ps, and peeps through the crack_].

_Margaret_. He comes!

_Enter_ FAUST.

_Faust_. Ah rogue, how sly thou art!
I've caught thee!
[_Kisses her_.]

_Margaret [embracing him and returning the kiss_].
Dear good man! I love thee from my heart!

[MEPHISTOPHELES _knocks_.]

_Faust [stamping_]. Who's there?

_Mephistopheles_. A friend!

_Faust_. A beast!

_Mephistopheles_. Time flies, I don't offend you?

_Martha [entering_]. Yes, sir, 'tis growing late.

_Faust_. May I not now attend you?

_Margaret_. Mother would--Fare thee well!

_Faust_. And must I leave thee then? Farewell!

_Martha_. Ade!

_Margaret_. Till, soon, we meet again!

[_Exeunt_ FAUST _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES.]

_Margaret_. Good heavens! what such a man's one brain
Can in itself alone contain!
I blush my rudeness to confess,
And answer all he says with yes.
Am a poor, ignorant child, don't see
What he can possibly find in me.

[_Exit_.]

WOODS AND CAVERN.

_Faust_ [_alone_]. Spirit sublime, thou gav'st me, gav'st me all
For which I prayed. Thou didst not lift in vain
Thy face upon me in a flame of fire.
Gav'st me majestic nature for a realm,
The power to feel, enjoy her. Not alone
A freezing, formal visit didst thou grant;
Deep down into her breast invitedst me
To look, as if she were a bosom-friend.
The series of animated things
Thou bidst pass by me, teaching me to know
My brothers in the waters, woods, and air.
And when the storm-swept forest creaks and groans,
The giant pine-tree crashes, rending off
The neighboring boughs and limbs, and with deep roar
The thundering mountain echoes to its fall,
To a safe cavern then thou leadest me,
Showst me myself; and my own bosom's deep
Mysterious wonders open on my view.
And when before my sight the moon comes up
With soft effulgence; from the walls of rock,
From the damp thicket, slowly float around
The silvery shadows of a world gone by,
And temper meditation's sterner joy.
O! nothing perfect is vouchsafed to man:
I feel it now! Attendant on this bliss,
Which brings me ever nearer to the Gods,
Thou gav'st me the companion, whom I now
No more can spare, though cold and insolent;
He makes me hate, despise myself, and turns
Thy gifts to nothing with a word--a breath.
He kindles up a wild-fire in my breast,
Of restless longing for that lovely form.
Thus from desire I hurry to enjoyment,
And in enjoyment languish for desire.

_E