My friend, I give you here, your wit to whet,
A little lesson in witch-etiquette.
The Witch.
Now say, good sirs, what would you have with me?
Mephistopheles.
A glass of your restoring liquor,
That makes an old man’s blood run quicker:
And bring the best out from your bins;
With years the juice in virtue wins.
The Witch.
Most willingly. Here I have got a phial
Of which myself at times make trial:
’Tis now a pleasant mellow potion;
You shall not meet with a denial.
[Softly.] Yet if this worthy man drinks it without precaution,
His life can’t stand an hour against its strong infection.
Mephistopheles.
Leave that to me; he’s under my protection,
Ripe for the draught; no harm will come to him.
[The Witch, with strange gestures, draws a circle and places many curious things within it; meanwhile the glasses begin to tinkle, and the kettle to sound and make music. She brings a large book, puts the Cat-Apes into the circle, and makes them serve as a desk to lay the book on, and hold the torches. She motions to Faust to come near.
Faust. [to Mephistopheles]
Now say, what would she with this flummery?
These antic gestures, this wild bedlam-stuff,
This most insipid of all mummery,
I know it well, I hate it well enough.
Mephistopheles.
Pshaw, nonsense! come, give up your sermonizing,
And learn to understand what a good joke is!
Like other quacks, she plays her hocus-pocus;
It gives the juice a virtue most surprising!
[He obliges Faust to enter the circle.
The Witch. [declaiming from the book with great emphasis]
Now be exact!
Of one make ten,
Then two subtract,
And add three then,
This makes thee rich.
Four shalt thou bate,
Of five and six,
So says the Witch,
