The monkey.  ’The world’s the ball;
        See’t rise and fall,
        Its roll you follow;
        Like glass it rings: 
        Both, brittle things! 
        Within ’tis hollow. 
        There it shines clear,
        And brighter here,—­
        I live—­by ’Pollo!—­
        Dear son, I pray,
        Keep hands away!
        Thou shalt fall so! 
        ’Tis made of clay,
        Pots are, also.

Mephistopheles.  What means the sieve?

The monkey [takes it down].  Wert thou a thief,
        ’Twould show the thief and shame him.
    [Runs to his mate and makes her look through.]
        Look through the sieve! 
        Discern’st thou the thief,
        And darest not name him?

Mephistopheles [approaching the fire].  And what’s this pot?

The monkeys.  The dunce!  I’ll be shot! 
        He knows not the pot,
        He knows not the kettle!

Mephistopheles.  Impertinence!  Hush!

The monkey.  Here, take you the brush,
        And sit on the settle!
     [He forces MEPHISTOPHELES to sit down.]

         FAUST
    [who all this time has been standing before a looking-glass,
     now approaching and now receding from it].

What do I see?  What heavenly face
Doth, in this magic glass, enchant me! 
O love, in mercy, now, thy swiftest pinions grant me! 
And bear me to her field of space! 
Ah, if I seek to approach what doth so haunt me,
If from this spot I dare to stir,
Dimly as through a mist I gaze on her!—­
The loveliest vision of a woman! 
Such lovely woman can there be? 
Must I in these reposing limbs naught human. 
But of all heavens the finest essence see? 
Was such a thing on earth seen ever?

Mephistopheles.  Why, when you see a God six days in hard work spend,
And then cry bravo at the end,
Of course you look for something clever. 
Look now thy fill; I have for thee
Just such a jewel, and will lead thee to her;
And happy, whose good fortune it shall be,
To bear her home, a prospered wooer!

[FAUST keeps on looking into the mirror.  MEPHISTOPHELES stretching himself out on the settle and playing with the brush, continues speaking.] Here sit I like a king upon his throne, The sceptre in my hand,—­I want the crown alone.

          THE ANIMALS
   [who up to this time have been going through all sorts of queer antics
    with each other, bring MEPHISTOPHELES a crown with a loud cry]. 
        O do be so good,—­
        With sweat and with blood,
        To take it and lime it;
   [They go about clumsily with the crown and break it into two pieces,
    with which they jump round.]
        ’Tis done now!  We’re free! 
        We speak and we see,
        We hear and we rhyme it;