No More Learning

_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_].
I don't like sour, it sets my mouth awry,
Let mine have real sweetness in it!

_Mephistopheles_ [_bores_]. Well, you shall have Tokay this minute.

_Altmayer_. No, sirs, just look me in the eye!
I see through this, 'tis what the chaps call smoking.

_Mephistopheles_. Come now! That would be serious joking,
To make so free with worthy men.
But quickly now! Speak out again!
With what description can I serve you?

_Altmayer_. Wait not to ask; with any, then.

[_After all the holes are bored and stopped_. ]

_Mephistopheles_ [_with singular gestures_].