If feeling prompt not, if it doth not flow Fresh from the spirit's depths, withstrong control Swaying to rapture every listener's soul, Idle your toil; thechase you may forego! Brood o'er your task! Together glue, Cook fromanother's feast your own ragout, Still prosecute your paltry game, And fanyour ash - heaps into flame! Thus children's wonder you'll excite, And apes', ifsuch your appetite; But that which issues from the heart alone, Will bend thehearts of others to your own.
An ugly song! a song political! A song offensive! Thank God, every morn Torule the Roman empire, that you were not born! I bless my stars at least thatmine is not Either a kaiser's or a chancellor's lot. Yet 'mong ourselves shouldone still lord it o'er the rest; That we elect a pope I now suggest. Ye know,what quality ensures A man's success, his rise secures.Frosch (sings)
'Tis sorcery, I vow! Strike home! The fellow is fair game, I trow!(They draw their knives and attack Mephistopheles.)Mephistopheles (with solemn gestures)
Thou nam'st thyself a part, and yet a whole I see.Mephistopheles