Altmayer. Aha! old sot, your lips already licking!
Frosch. Well, then! if I must choose, let Rhine-wine fill my beaker, Our fatherland supplies the noblest liquor.
MEPHISTOPHELES
[boring a hole in the rim of the table near the place
where FROSCH sits].
Get us a little wax right off to make the stoppers!
Altmayer. Ah, these are jugglers' tricks, and whappers!
Mephistopheles [to Brander]. And you?
Brander. Champaigne's the wine for me, But then right sparkling it must be!
[MEPHISTOPHELES bores; meanwhile one of them has made
the wax-stoppers and stopped the holes.]
Brander. Hankerings for foreign things will sometimes haunt you,
The good so far one often finds;
Your real German man can't bear the French, I grant you,
And yet will gladly drink their wines.
Siebel [while Mephistopheles approaches his seat]. I don't like sour, it sets my mouth awry, Let mine have real sweetness in it!
Mephistopheles [bores]. Well, you shall have Tokay this minute.