The world’s the ball: 
     Doth rise and fall,
     And roll incessant: 
     Like glass doth ring,
     A hollow thing,—­
     How soon will’t spring,
     And drop, quiescent? 
     Here bright it gleams,
     Here brighter seems: 
     I live at present! 
     Dear son, I say,
     Keep thou away! 
     Thy doom is spoken! 
     ’Tis made of clay,
     And will be broken.

MEPHISTOPHELES

What means the sieve?

THE HE-APE (taking it down)

     Wert thou the thief,
     I’d know him and shame him.

(He runs to the SHE-APE, and lets her look through it.)

     Look through the sieve! 
     Know’st thou the thief,
     And darest not name him?

MEPHISTOPHELES (approaching the fire)

And what’s this pot?

HE-APE AND SHE-APE

     The fool knows it not! 
     He knows not the pot,
     He knows not the kettle!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Impertinent beast!

THE HE-APE

Take the brush here, at least,
And sit down on the settle!

(He invites MEPHISTOPHELES to sit down.)

FAUST

(who during all this time has been standing before a mirror, now approaching and now retreating from it)

What do I see?  What heavenly form revealed
Shows through the glass from Magic’s fair dominions! 
O lend me, Love, the swiftest of thy pinions,
And bear me to her beauteous field! 
Ah, if I leave this spot with fond designing,
If I attempt to venture near,
Dim, as through gathering mist, her charms appear!—­
A woman’s form, in beauty shining! 
Can woman, then, so lovely be? 
And must I find her body, there reclining,
Of all the heavens the bright epitome? 
Can Earth with such a thing be mated?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Why, surely, if a God first plagues Himself six days,
Then, self-contented, Bravo! says,
Must something clever be created. 
This time, thine eyes be satiate! 
I’ll yet detect thy sweetheart and ensnare her,
And blest is he, who has the lucky fate,
Some day, as bridegroom, home to bear her.

(FAUST gazes continually in the mirror.  MEPHISTOPHELES, stretching himself out on the settle, and playing with the brush, continues to speak.)

So sit I, like the King upon his throne: 
I hold the sceptre, here,—­and lack the crown alone.

THE ANIMALS

(who up to this time have been making all kinds of fantastic movements together bring a crown to MEPHISTOPHELES with great noise.)