_Gott._ (_after a pause_). Go, sir--I spare thy life. My heart has lost its vigour, and my hand Is stayed against thee. Go! thou knowest now The virtue of her love--its alchemy Hath made _thee_ sacred in mine eyes! Go, sir, Amend thy mis-spent life--she loveth thee! When evil thoughts assail thine impious soul, Remember that, despite thy wrong to her, She loveth thee! If a man’s heart is beating in thy breast, That amulet should hold thee Satan-proof! [_Exit._ _Faus._ Gretchen, I thank thee for my granted life, For it hath taught me that, for all my sin, Thine heart is turned towards me. But for that, ’Twere better I had died by Gottfried’s hand Than by mine own! _Gret._ Faustus, thou shalt not die. Oh, Faustus, Faustus! _I_ am marked for death-- Is not one life enough! _Faus._ Ay, verily, So that that life be mine. I must atone! _Gret._ Thou shalt atone, for thou hast greatly sinned-- Thou shalt atone with worthy deeds lifelong; Thou shalt atone with steadfast, humbled heart, With faith, and truth, and works of charity. Atone with life--with brave and blameless life, And not with coward death. Resign thyself. _Enter LISA._ Heaven wills that thou shouldst live--that I should die-- So let us yield ourselves to Heaven’s will! [_GRETCHEN grows gradually fainter. FAUSTUS leads her to couch._ _Enter MARTHA and ANSELM._ _Mar._ Too late! Oh, Heaven, too late! _Lisa._ Oh, Gretchen, Gretchen! Poor loved one--speak to us--one word! one word! Oh, Heaven, pity us! _Gret._ Nay, gentle one, Weep not for Gretchen--three sad months ago Poor Gretchen died! ’Tis a long time to mourn, Three months! Nay, Martha, dry thine eyes again, And deck thyself as for a holiday. Rejoice with me-- 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-- And I can close mine eyes, but not my heart-- And still my foolish tongue, but not my heart-- So, Faustus, it is meet that I should die! Weep not-- [_FAUSTUS rises and turns towards ANSELM._ I go from Death to Life--from Night to Day! Weep not--my heart is glad, and all my cares Fold their black wings and creep away abashed, As shrinks the night before the coming dawn. [_The lamp at her feet begins to die out. MEPHISTO is seen at door._