Brander.  Stop there!  Or blows shall rain down round you!

      ALTMAYER
      [draws a stopper out of the table; fire flies at him]. 
I burn!  I burn!

Siebel.  Foul sorcery!  Shame!  Lay on! the rascal is fair game!

      [They draw their knives and rush at MEPHISTOPHELES.]

Mephistopheles [with a serious mien]. 
Word and shape of air! 
Change place, new meaning wear! 
Be here—­and there!

      [They stand astounded and look at each other.]

Altmayer.  Where am I?  What a charming land!

Frosch.  Vine hills!  My eyes!  Is’t true?

Siebel.  And grapes, too, close at hand!

Brander.  Beneath this green see what a stem is growing! 
See what a bunch of grapes is glowing!
       [He seizes SIEBEL by the nose.  The rest do the same to each
        other and raise their knives.]

Mephistopheles [as above].  Loose, Error, from their eyes the band! 
How Satan plays his tricks, you need not now be told of.
       [He vanishes with FAUST, the companions start back from each
        other.]

Siebel.  What ails me?

Altmayer.  How?

Frosch.  Was that thy nose, friend, I had hold of?

Brander [to Siebel].  And I have thine, too, in my hand!

Altmayer.  O what a shock! through all my limbs ’tis crawling!  Get me a chair, be quick, I’m falling!

Frosch.  No, say what was the real case?

Siebel.  O show me where the churl is hiding!  Alive he shall not leave the place!

Altmayer.  Out through the cellar-door I saw him riding—­
Upon a cask—­he went full chase.—­
Heavy as lead my feet are growing.

      [Turning towards the table.]

My!  If the wine should yet be flowing.

Siebel.  ’Twas all deception and moonshine.

Frosch.  Yet I was sure I did drink wine.

Brander.  But how about the bunches, brother?

Altmayer.  After such miracles, I’ll doubt no other!

     WITCHES’ KITCHEN.

[On a low hearth stands a great kettle over the fire.  In the smoke, which rises from it, are seen various forms.  A female monkey[28] sits by the kettle and skims it, and takes care that it does not run over.  The male monkey with the young ones sits close by, warming himself.  Walls and ceiling are adorned ’with the most singular witch-household stuff.]

     FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES.

Faust.  Would that this vile witch-business were well over! 
Dost promise me I shall recover
In this hodge-podge of craziness? 
From an old hag do I advice require? 
And will this filthy cooked-up mess
My youth by thirty years bring nigher? 
Woe’s me, if that’s the best you know! 
Already hope is from my bosom banished. 
Has not a noble mind found long ago
Some balsam to restore a youth that’s vanished?