Brander. You take their case so much to heart?
Altmayer. The bald pate and the butter-belly!
The sad tale makes him mild and tame;
He sees in the swollen rat, poor fellow!
His own true likeness set in a frame.
FAUST and MEPHISTOPHELES.
Mephistopheles. Now, first of all, 'tis necessary
To show you people making merry,
That you may see how lightly life can run.
Each day to this small folk's a feast of fun;
Not over-witty, self-contented,
Still round and round in circle-dance they whirl,
As with their tails young kittens twirl.
If with no headache they're tormented,
Nor dunned by landlord for his pay,
They're careless, unconcerned, and gay.
Brander. They're fresh from travel, one might know it, Their air and manner plainly show it; They came here not an hour ago.
Frosch. Thou verily art right! My Leipsic well I know! Paris in small it is, and cultivates its people.
Siebel. What do the strangers seem to thee?
Frosch. Just let me go! When wine our friendship mellows,
Easy as drawing a child's tooth 'twill be
To worm their secrets out of these two fellows.
They're of a noble house, I dare to swear,
They have a proud and discontented air.
Brander. They're mountebanks, I'll bet a dollar!
Altmayer. Perhaps.