The Monkeys

(who have hitherto been making all sorts of strange gestures, bring MEPHISTOPHELES a crown, with loud cries)

Oh, be so good, With Sweat and with blood The crown to lime!

(They handle the crown awkwardly and break it in two pieces, with which they skip about.)

'Twas fate's decree! We speak and see! We hear and rhyme.

FAUST (before the mirror)

Woe's me! well-nigh distraught I feel!

MEPHISTOPHELES (pointing to the beasts)

And even my own head almost begins to reel.