old sot, your lips already
licking!
Faust, a Tragedy by Goethe
_Brander_. What shall be done with that?
You've not the casks before the door, I take it?
_Altmayer_. The landlord's tool-chest there is easily got at.
_Mephistopheles_ [_takes the gimlet_] (_to Frosch_).
What will you have? It costs but speaking.
_Frosch_. How do you mean? Have you so many kinds?
_Mephistopheles_. Enough to suit all sorts of minds.
_Altmayer_. Aha!
old sot, your lips already licking!
_Frosch_. Well, then! if I must choose, let Rhine-wine fill my beaker,
Our fatherland supplies the noblest liquor.
MEPHISTOPHELES
[_boring a hole in the rim of the table near the place
where_ FROSCH _sits_].
Get us a little wax right off to make the stoppers!
_Altmayer_. Ah, these are jugglers' tricks, and whappers!
_Mephistopheles_ [_to Brander_]. And you?
_Brander_. Champaigne's the wine for me,
But then right sparkling it must be!
[MEPHISTOPHELES _bores; meanwhile one of them has made
the wax-stoppers and stopped the holes_. ]
_Brander_. Hankerings for foreign things will sometimes haunt you,
The good so far one often finds;
Your real German man can't bear the French, I grant you,
And yet will gladly drink their wines.
_Siebel_ [_while Mephistopheles approaches his seat_].
