Schüler. Ich kann unmöglich wieder gehn, Ich muß euch noch mein Stammbuch überreichen. Mephistopheles. Sehr wohl. (Er schreibt und giebt's.) Schüler (lies't). Eritis sicut Deus, scientes bonum et malum. (Macht's ehrerbietig zu und empfiehlt sich.) Mephistopheles. Folg' nur dem alten Spruch und meiner Muhme, der Dir wird gewiß einmal bei deiner Gottähnlichkeit Faust tritt auf. Faust. Wohin soll es nun gehn? Mephistopheles. Wohin es dir gefällt. Wir sehn die kleine, dann die große Welt. 1700 Mit welcher Freude, welchem Nugen, Wirst du den Cursum durchschmarugen! Faust. Allein bei meinem langen Bart Es wird mir der Versuch nicht glücken; Ich wußte nie mich in die Welt zu schicken: Vor Andern fühl' ich mich so klein; Ich werde stets verlegen sein. Mephistopheles. Mein guter Freund, das wird sich alles geben; Sobald du dir vertraust, sobald weißt du zu leben. Faust. 1710 Wie kommen wir denn aus dem Haus? Wo hast du Pferde, Knecht und Wagen? Wir breiten nur den Mantel aus, Du nimmst bei diesem kühnen Schritt Ein Bischen Feuerluft, die ich bereiten werde, Und sind wir leicht, so geht es schnell hinauf; Auerbach's Keller in Leipzig. This scene opens with a carouse of four boon companions, Frosch, Brander, Siebel, and Altmayer. At the moment of their introduction to us, their merriment has fallen somewhat flat and sodden : Frosch complains of his comrades' dulness; Brander retorts that it is Frosch's business to make clownish merriment, and receives for answer a glass of wine on his head. Siebel hails his spluttering indignation as a sign for more roistering, and Altmayer complains of the deafening din of the hiccuping chorus. Frosch begins a song ironically wishing better health to the Holy Roman Empire, but after two lines is silenced by Brander with a cry of "No politics." Then Frosch tries a serenade to some nameless and fameless fair, but this annoys Siebel, who is smarting under the pang of rejected love. This fact is recognised by Brander, who proposes and sings a song suitable to his complaint the subject being the pain and death of a poisoned rat, facetiously compared to the inner sorrows of love. At this point Faust and Mephistopheles enter, the latter telling Faust that he now sees before him the type of the natural man in free, careless, empty-headed enjoyment. The topers, noticing the new-comers, proceed to discuss them; characteristically pitying them for their unfashionable manners: surely they cannot have been long in Leipzig, that miniature of Paris, or they would be more refined. However, they shall be duly scrutinised, and their true quality elicited; Frosch will undertake it. Faust salutes them with courtesy, returned by Siebel, who notices, aside, the lame foot of Mephistopheles: the latter proposes an union of the two parties on the ground that good company can make up for bad wine. This appears a piece of affectation to Altmayer, who growls ; while Frosch proceeds to cross-examine the new-comers in a rallying tone, returned with interest by Mephistopheles, who presently proposes a song, and after a little pressing consents to sing one himself—a vulgar and rather democratic ballad, detailing how a king made a flea his chief favourite, dressed him in a court-suit, and encouraged his all-pervading family, to the torment of courtiers and ladies, by day and by night. Having thus screwed them up to the point of merriment, he proposes more wine, offering some of his own store, if the company agree. They jump, or rather reel, at his offer-stipulating for his best tipple, in quantities large enough to form a satisfactory judgment. Mephistopheles, demanding a gimlet, bids them only name their choices-what they wish they shall have-and (amid demands for Rhenish from Frosch, for Champagne from Brander), bores holes in the table and plugs them with wax; then, promising Siebel, who likes sweet wine, some Tokay, and eliciting from Altmayer a thirsty miscellaneous demand for "anything wet," he utters, with appropriate gestures, a weird incantation to the table, and draws the plugs from the gimlet-holes, from which flow the wines each had requested: Mephistopheles only stipulating that none should be spilt. Faust, revolted at their swinish jollity, is weary to depart-but Mephistopheles detains him for the sequel, which follows immediately; Siebel, drinking carelessly, spills some of his Tokay, which instantly flashes up in flame; Mephistopheles, adjuring it to be quiet, says sneeringly in answer to Siebel's exclamation "Die Hölle brennt" "It was only purgatorial fire, this time." Annoyed at his tone, they begin to threaten him; he replies with contumelious scorn. As Siebel and Brander are growing warmer, Altmayer draws a stopper from the table, flame shoots out, and at his yell of terror, the others all rush at Mephistopheles, who in a moment, with solemn gestures, throws over them a strong delusion: they fancy themselves in a vineyard in some fair land, with the grape-clusters ready to their hand; they snatch at them, and each grasps unknowingly a comrade's nose, preparing to cut it off. Mephistopheles repeats his former gestures and undoes the charm, and as he disappears with Faust, the revellers discover their illusion; how comes each to be holding another's nose? Altmayer, who appears to be most unnerved by the shock, declares that he saw them riding out on a wine-cask, and turns in terror to the table to see if the wine is still flowing. Siebel condemns the whole thing as an imposture, Brander seems still too muddled to be clear about anything, while Altmayer, who at the first had been the most sceptical, now declares that he can no longer refuse to believe in miracles, and then the curtain falls. Zeche lustiger Gesellen. Frosch. 1720 Will keiner trinken? feiner lachen? Brander. Das liegt an dir; du bringst ja nichts herbei, Frosch (gießt ihm ein Glas Wein über den Kopf). Da hast du beides! Brander. Doppelt Schwein! Frosch. Ihr wollt' es ja, man soll es sein ! Siebel. Zur Thür hinaus, wer sich entzweit! Mit offner Brust singt Runda, sauft und schreit! 1730 Altmayer. Weh mir, ich bin verloren! Baumwolle her! der Kerl sprengt mir die Ohren. Siebel. Wenn das Gewölbe wiederschallt, Fühlt man erst recht des Basses Grundgewalt. Frosch. So recht! hinaus mit dem, der etwas übel nimmt! Altmayer. A! tara lara da ! Frosch. Die Kehlen sind gestimmt. Das liebe, heil'ge Röm'sche Reich, Brander. 1740 Ein garstig Lied! Pfui! ein politisch Lied! 1750 Ein leidig Lied! Dankt Gott mit jedem Morgen, Doch muß auch uns ein Oberhaupt nicht fehlen; Wir wollen einen Papst erwählen. Ihr wißt, welch eine Qualität Den Ausschlag giebt, den Mann erhöht. Frosch (singt). Schwing dich auf, Frau Nachtigall, |