English poem
The Witch
by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832)
Ough! ough! ough! ough! Accursed brute! accursed SOW! The caldron dost neglect, for shame! Accursed brute to scorch the dame!
(Perceiving FAUST and MEPHISTOPHELES)
Whom have we here? Who's sneaking here? Whence are ye come? With what desire? The plague of fire Your bones consume!
(She dips the skimming-ladle into the caldron and throws flames at FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, and the MONKEYS. The MONKEYS whimper.)
MEPHISTOPHELES (twirling the whisk which he holds in his hand, and striking among the glasses and pots)
Dash! Smash! There lies the glass! There lies the slime! 'Tis but a jest; I but keep time, Thou hellish pest, To thine own chime!
(While the WITCH steps back in rage aind astonishment.)
Dost know me! Skeleton! Vile scarecrow, thou! Thy lord and master dost thou know? What holds me, that I deal not now Thee and thine apes a stunning blow? No more respect to my red vest dost pay? Does my cock's feather no allegiance claim? Have I my visage masked to-day? Must I be forced myself to name?