(Faust continues to gaze into the mirror. Mephistophles stretching himself on the settle and playing with the whisk, continues to speak.)
Here sit I, like a king upon his throne; My sceptre this;the crown I want alone.
The Monkeys (who have hitherto been making all sorts of strange gestures, bring MEPHISTOPHELES a crown, with loud cries)
Oh, be so good, With sweat and with blood The crown to lime!
(They handle the crown awkwardly and break it in two pieces, with which they skip about.)
'Twas fate’s decree! We speak and see! We hear and rhyme.
Faust (before the mirror)
Woe’s me! well-nigh distraught I feel!
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!
