Faust. I was not trained to this--was never made To labor with the pick-axe and the spade; Such narrow round of life I may not brook. Mephistopheles. Then you must look into another book, And be content to take the witch for cook. Faust. But why this self-same ugly Jezebel? Could you not brew the drink yourself as well? Mephistopheles. A precious pastime that indeed! meanwhile I had built bridges many a German mile. Not art, and science strict, are here enough, But patience too, and perseverance tough. A thoughtful soul toils on through many a silent year. Time only makes the busy ferment clear, Besides that the ingredients all Are passing strange and mystical! 'Tis true the devil taught them how to do it, But not the devil with his own hands can brew it. [_Looking at the_ /Cat-Apes/.] Lo! what a tiny gay parade! Here's the man, and there's the maid! [_Addressing them._] It seems that your good mother has gone out? The Cat-Apes. Up the chimney, Went she out, To a drinking bout! Mephistopheles. Is it her wont to gossip long without? The Animals. As long as we sit here and warm our feet. Mephistopheles. [_to_ /Faust/] What think you of the brutes? are they not neat? Faust. I never saw such tasteless would-be-drolls! Mephistopheles. Pooh! pooh!--I know no greater delectation On earth, than such a merry conversation. [_To the brutes._] Now let us hear, you pretty dolls, What are you stirring there in the pot? The Brutes. Soup for beggars, hissing and hot, Thin and watery, that's the stew. Mephistopheles. Your customers will not be few. The Father Cat-Ape. [_comes up and fawns upon_ /Mephistopheles/] Come rattle the dice, Make me rich in a trice, Come, come, let me gain! My case is so bad, It scarce could be worse: Were I right in my purse, I'd be right in my brain! Mephistopheles. How happy would the apish creature be, To buy a ticket in the lottery! [_Meanwhile the young_ /Cat-Apes/ _have been playing with a large globe, and roll it forwards._ The Father Cat-Ape. Such is the world, So doth it go, Up and down, To and fro! Like glass it tinkles, Like glass it twinkles, Breaks in a minute, Has nothing within it; Here it sparkles, There it darkles, I am alive! My dear son, I say, Keep out of the way! If you don't strive, You will die, you will die! It is but of clay, And in pieces will fly! Mephistopheles. What make you with the sieve? The Father Cat-Ape. [_bringing down the sieve_] When comes a thief, On the instant we know him. [_He runs off to the_ /Mother Cat-Ape/, _and lets her look through the sieve._] Look through the sieve! See'st thou the thief, And fearest to show him?