The days of mourning for thy kinswoman
Are past and gone!
Faus.Oh, Gretchen—oh, my love—
My heart will break. Gretchen, tell me, at least,
That thou forgivest me!
[Faint indications of coming daylight are seen through window.
Gret.I love thee, Faustus
Ah me! but it is meet that I should die,
For I can turn my head, but not my heart—