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.