FAUST

Sweet love!

MARGARET

Just wait awhile! [She gathers a star-flower and plucks off the leaves one after another.]

FAUST

A nosegay may that be?

MARGARET

No!  It is but a game.

FAUST

How?

MARGARET

Go, you’ll laugh at me!

[She plucks off the leaves and murmurs to herself.]

FAUST

What murmurest thou?

MARGARET (half aloud)

He loves me—­loves me not.

FAUST

Sweet angel, with thy face of heavenly bliss!

MARGARET (continues)

He loves me—­not—­he loves me—­not—­
    [plucking off the last leaf with fond joy.]

He loves me!

FAUST

        
                         Yes! 

And this flower-language, darling, let it be
A heavenly oracle!  He loveth thee! 
Know’st thou the meaning of, He loveth thee?
                     [He seizes both her hands.]

MARGARET

I tremble so!

FAUST

Nay! do not tremble, love! 
Let this hand-pressure, let this glance reveal
Feelings, all power of speech above;
To give oneself up wholly and to feel
A joy that must eternal prove! 
Eternal!—­Yes, its end would be despair,
No end!—­It cannot end!

[MARGARET presses his hand, extricates herself, and runs away.  He stands a moment in thought, and then follows her.]

MARTHA (approaching)

Night’s closing.

MEPHISTOPHELES

 Yes, we’ll presently away.

MARTHA

I would entreat you longer yet to stay;
But ’tis a wicked place, just here about;
It is as if the folk had nothing else to do,
Nothing to think of too,
But gaping watch their neighbors, who goes in and out;
And scandal’s busy still, do whatsoe’er one may. 
And our young couple?

MEPHISTOPHELES

They have flown up there,
The wanton butterflies!

MARTHA

He seems to take to her. 
And she to him.  ’Tis of the world the way!

A SUMMER-HOUSE

[MARGARET runs in, hides behind the door, holds the tip of her finger to her lip, and peeps through the crevice.]

MARGARET