ALBERICH
What the boy has won
Would the niggard deny him?
'Tis not thine; the hero
Who won it is now its lord.
MIME
I brought him up;
For my pains now he shall pay;
For its reward
My trouble has waited too long.
ALBERICH
Just for rearing him,
The old niggardly,
Beggarly knave,
Bold as brass,
A king now would become?
The ring would befit
Better a dog
Than bumpkin like thee.
Never to thee
The magical ring shall fall!
MIME [Scratches his head.
Well, keep it, then,
And guard with care
The gleaming gold;
Be thou lord,
But treat me as a brother;
Give me against it
Tarnhelm for toy,
Fairly exchanged;
Divided thus,
There will be booty for both.
[He rubs his hands confidingly.