Mephistopheles. No! a discourse like this to me, I own, is one of life's most pleasant features; [To the animals.] Say, cursed dolls, that sweat, there, toiling! What are you twirling with the spoon?
Animals. A common beggar-soup we're boiling.
Mephistopheles. You'll have a run of custom soon.
THE HE-MONKEY
[Comes along and fawns on MEPHISTOPHELES].
O fling up the dice,
Make me rich in a trice,
Turn fortune's wheel over!
My lot is right bad,
If money I had,
My wits would recover.
Mephistopheles. The monkey'd be as merry as a cricket, Would somebody give him a lottery-ticket!
[Meanwhile the young monkeys have been playing with a great
ball, which they roll backward and forward.]
The monkey. 'The world's the ball;
See't rise and fall,
Its roll you follow;
Like glass it rings:
Both, brittle things!
Within 'tis hollow.
There it shines clear,
And brighter here,—
I live—by 'Pollo!—
Dear son, I pray,
Keep hands away!
Thou shalt fall so!
'Tis made of clay,
Pots are, also.
Mephistopheles. What means the sieve?
The monkey [takes it down]. Wert thou a thief,
'Twould show the thief and shame him.
[Runs to his mate and makes her look through.]
Look through the sieve!
Discern'st thou the thief,
And darest not name him?
Mephistopheles [approaching the fire]. And what's this pot?