_Mephistopheles_. Now, first of all, 'tis necessary To show you people making merry, That you may see how lightly life can run. Each day to this small folk's a feast of fun; Not over-witty, self-contented, Still round and round in circle-dance they whirl, As with their tails young kittens twirl. If with no headache they're tormented, Nor dunned by landlord for his pay, They're careless, unconcerned, and gay.
_Brander_. They're fresh from travel, one might know it, Their air and manner plainly show it; They came here not an hour ago.
_Frosch_. Thou verily art right! My Leipsic well I know! Paris in small it is, and cultivates its people.
_Siebel_. What do the strangers seem to thee?
_Frosch_. Just let me go! When wine our friendship mellows, Easy as drawing a child's tooth 'twill be To worm their secrets out of these two fellows. They're of a noble house, I dare to swear, They have a proud and discontented air.
_Brander_. They're mountebanks, I'll bet a dollar!
_Frosch_. I'll smoke them, mark you that!
_Mephistopheles_ [_to Faust_]. These people never smell the old rat, E'en when he has them by the collar.
_Siebel_. The same, and thanks to boot. [_In a low tone, faking a side look at MEPHISTOPHELES_.] Why has the churl one halting foot?
_Mephistopheles_. With your permission, shall we make one party? Instead of a good drink, which get here no one can, Good company must make us hearty.
_Altmayer_. You seem a very fastidious man.
_Frosch_. I think you spent some time at Rippach[22] lately? You supped with Mister Hans not long since, I dare say?
_Mephistopheles_. We passed him on the road today! Fine man! it grieved us parting with him, greatly. He'd much to say to us about his cousins, And sent to each, through us, his compliments by dozens. [_He bows to_ FROSCH.]
_Altmayer_ [_softly_]. You've got it there! he takes!
_Frosch_. I'll have him next time, wait a bit!
_Mephistopheles_. If I mistook not, didn't we hear Some well-trained voices chorus singing? 'Faith, music must sound finely here. From all these echoing arches ringing!
_Mephistopheles_. O no! my powers are small, I'm but an amateur.
_Siebel_. But let it be a bran-new strain!
_Mephistopheles_. No fear of that! We've just come back from Spain, The lovely land of wine and song and lyre. [_Sings_.] There was a king, right stately, Who had a great, big flea,--