MEPHISTOPT'IELES
(in the same position)

It now at least must be confessed,
That poets sometimes are sincere.

(The caldron begins to boil over; a great flame arises,
which streams up the chimney. The WITCH comes down the
chimney with horrible cries.)

THE WITCH

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.)