High on the Monarch's Diadem, attractest

More worship than the majesty who sweats

Beneath the crown which makes his head ache, like

Millions of hearts which bleed to lend it lustre!

Shalt thou be mine? I am, methinks, already

A little king, a lucky alchymist!—340

A wise magician, who has bound the devil

Without the forfeit of his soul. But come,

Werner, or what else?

Wer.‍Call me Werner still;