Part 19 (2/2)

BRANDER

He ran around, he ran about, His thirst in puddles laving; He gnawed and scratched the house throughout.

But nothing cured his raving.

He whirled and jumped, with torment mad, And soon enough the poor beast had, As if he had love in his bosom.

CHORUS

As if he had love in his bosom!

BRANDER

And driven at last, in open day, He ran into the kitchen, Fell on the hearth, and squirming lay, In the last convulsion twitching.

Then laughed the murderess in her glee: ”Ha! ha! he's at his last gasp,” said she, ”As if he had love in his bosom!”

CHORUS

As if he had love in his bosom!

SIEBEL

How the dull fools enjoy the matter!

To me it is a proper art Poison for such poor rats to scatter.

BRANDER

Perhaps you'll warmly take their part?

ALTMAYER

The bald-pate pot-belly I have noted: Misfortune tames him by degrees; For in the rat by poison bloated His own most natural form he sees.

FAUST AND MEPHISTOPHELES

MEPHISTOPHELES

Before all else, I bring thee hither Where boon companions meet together, To let thee see how smooth life runs away.

Here, for the folk, each day's a holiday: With little wit, and ease to suit them, They whirl in narrow, circling trails, Like kittens playing with their tails?

And if no headache persecute them, So long the host may credit give, They merrily and careless live.

BRANDER

The fact is easy to unravel, Their air's so odd, they've just returned from travel: A single hour they've not been here.

FROSCH

You've verily hit the truth! Leipzig to me is dear: Paris in miniature, how it refines its people!

SIEBEL

Who are the strangers, should you guess?

<script>