What then?


NATHANAEL.

You need not blush, I imagine
Our friend Wilhelm who's there,
Burns for Leonor and finds her divine.
Hermann loves Gretchen and I am near ruined
For the Fausta.


HOFFMANN (to Wilhelm).

Yes, Leonor, thy virtuose.

(To Hermann.)

Yes, Gretchen, thy doll inert, of icy heart.

(to Nathanael.)

And thy Fausta, poor insensate,
The courtezan with front of brass.


NATHANAEL.

Morose spirit,