Brander.  But don’t forget to charge the knight of stitches,
The measure carefully to take,
And, as he loves his precious neck,
To leave no wrinkles in the breeches.

Mephistopheles.  In silk and velvet splendid
     The creature now was drest,
     To his coat were ribbons appended,
     A cross was on his breast. 
     He had a great star on his collar,
     Was a minister, in short;
     And his relatives, greater and smaller,
     Became great people at court.

     The lords and ladies of honor
     Fared worse than if they were hung,
     The queen, she got them upon her,
     And all were bitten and stung,
     And did not dare to attack them,
     Nor scratch, but let them stick. 
     We choke them and we crack them
     The moment we feel one prick.

Chorus [loud].  We choke ’em and we crack ’em The moment we feel one prick.

Frosch.  Bravo!  Bravo!  That was fine!

Siebel.  So shall each flea his life resign!

Brander.  Point your fingers and nip them fine!

Altmayer.  Hurra for Liberty!  Hurra for Wine!

Mephistopheles.  I’d pledge the goddess, too, to show how high I set her, Right gladly, if your wines were just a trifle better.

Siebel.  Don’t say that thing again, you fretter!

Mephistopheles.  Did I not fear the landlord to affront; I’d show these worthy guests this minute What kind of stuff our stock has in it.

Siebel.  Just bring it on!  I’ll bear the brunt.

Frosch.  Give us a brimming glass, our praise shall then be ample,
But don’t dole out too small a sample;
For if I’m to judge and criticize,
I need a good mouthful to make me wise.

Altmayer [softly].  They’re from the Rhine, as near as I can make it.

Mephistopheles.  Bring us a gimlet here!

Brander.  What shall be done with that?  You’ve not the casks before the door, I take it?

Altmayer.  The landlord’s tool-chest there is easily got at.

Mephistopheles [takes the gimlet] (to Frosch).  What will you have?  It costs but speaking.

Frosch.  How do you mean?  Have you so many kinds?

Mephistopheles.  Enough to suit all sorts of minds.

Altmayer.  Aha! old sot, your lips already licking!

Frosch.  Well, then! if I must choose, let Rhine-wine fill my beaker, Our fatherland supplies the noblest liquor.

      MEPHISTOPHELES
   [boring a hole in the rim of the table near the place
    where FROSCH sits]. 
Get us a little wax right off to make the stoppers!

Altmayer.  Ah, these are jugglers’ tricks, and whappers!

Mephistopheles [to Brander].  And you?