MEPHISTOPHELES (pointing to the beasts)
And even my own head almost begins to reel.
THE MONKEYS
If good luck attend,
If fitly things blend,
Our jargon with thought
And with reason is fraught!
FAUST (as above)
A flame is kindled in my breast!
Let us begone! nor linger here!
MEPHISTOPHELES (in the same position)
It now at least must be confessed,
That poets sometimes are sincere.
[The caldron which the SHE-MONKEY has neglected begins to boil over; a great flame arises, which streams up the chimney. The WITCH comes down the chimney with horrible cries.]