MEPHISTOPHELES

Attend, of brutishness ere long
You'll see a glorious revelation.

SIEBEL (drinks carelessly; the wine is spilt upon the ground, and turns to fame)

Help! fire! help! Hell is burning!

MEPHISTOPHELES (addressing the flames)

Stop,
Kind element, be still, I say!
(To the Company)
Of purgatorial fire as yet 'tis but a drop.

What means the knave! For this you'll dearly pay!
Us, it appears, you do not know.

Such tricks a second time he'd better show!

Methinks 'twere well we pack'd him quietly away.

What, sir! with us your hocus-pocus play!