Brander.  Champaigne’s the wine for me, But then right sparkling it must be!

     [MEPHISTOPHELES bores; meanwhile one of them has made
      the wax-stoppers and stopped the holes.]

Brander.  Hankerings for foreign things will sometimes haunt you, The good so far one often finds; Your real German man can’t bear the French, I grant you, And yet will gladly drink their wines.

Siebel [while Mephistopheles approaches his seat].  I don’t like sour, it sets my mouth awry, Let mine have real sweetness in it!

Mephistopheles [bores].  Well, you shall have Tokay this minute.

Altmayer.  No, sirs, just look me in the eye!  I see through this, ’tis what the chaps call smoking.

Mephistopheles.  Come now!  That would be serious joking,
To make so free with worthy men. 
But quickly now!  Speak out again! 
With what description can I serve you?

Altmayer.  Wait not to ask; with any, then.

      [After all the holes are bored and stopped.]

Mephistopheles [with singular gestures]. 
From the vine-stock grapes we pluck;
Horns grow on the buck;
Wine is juicy, the wooden table,
Like wooden vines, to give wine is able. 
An eye for nature’s depths receive! 
Here is a miracle, only believe! 
Now draw the plugs and drink your fill!

       ALL
    [drawing the stoppers, and catching each in his glass
     the wine he had desired]. 
Sweet spring, that yields us what we will!

Mephistopheles.  Only be careful not a drop to spill!
    [They drink repeatedly.]

All [sing].  We’re happy all as cannibals,
     Five hundred hogs together.

Mephistopheles.  Look at them now, they’re happy as can be!

Faust.  To go would suit my inclination.

Mephistopheles.  But first give heed, their bestiality Will make a glorious demonstration.

     SIEBEL
     [drinks carelessly; the wine is spilt upon the ground
      and turns to flame]. 
Help! fire!  Ho!  Help!  The flames of hell!

Mephistopheles [conjuring the flame_]. 
Peace, friendly element, be still!
     [To the Toper.]
This time ’twas but a drop of fire from purgatory.

Siebel.  What does this mean?  Wait there, or you’ll be sorry!  It seems you do not know us well.

Frosch.  Not twice, in this way, will it do to joke us!

Altmayer.  I vote, we give him leave himself here scarce to make.

Siebel.  What, sir!  How dare you undertake To carry on here your old hocus-pocus?

Mephistopheles.  Be still, old wine-cask!

Siebel.  Broomstick, you!  Insult to injury add?  Confound you!