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The Master Singers of Nuremberg.
47
Beckmesser (as Sachs begins to sing).
What is it now?
Atrocious row!
That vulgar cobbler's drunk, I trow!
Atrocious row!
That vulgar cobbler's drunk, I trow!
(advancing.)
What Master! Up, so long after dark!
Sachs.
You also out, Master Town-clerk?
The shoes perhaps on your mind are weighing?
You see me at work: I'm not delaying.
The shoes perhaps on your mind are weighing?
You see me at work: I'm not delaying.
Beckmesser.
Deuce take boots and shoe!
Be quiet, do!
Be quiet, do!
Walter (to Eva).
What is that song? He speaks of thee.
Eva.
I know it well; he means not me.
But hidden malice here I trace.
But hidden malice here I trace.
Walter.
What vile delay! Time flies apace!
Sachs (continuing his work).
Tooral looral!
Tiddy fol de rol!
O Eve! Hear how my poor heart aches
By grief and trouble sodden;
The works of Art a cobbler makes
All under foot are trodden.
Did not an angel bring
For such work comforting,
And call me oft to Heaven's gate,
I'd quickly leave this trade I hate!
But when he takes me up on high,
The world beneath my feet does lie:
Then rest doth woo
Hans Sachs, the shoe-
Maker and the Poet too.
Tiddy fol de rol!
O Eve! Hear how my poor heart aches
By grief and trouble sodden;
The works of Art a cobbler makes
All under foot are trodden.
Did not an angel bring
For such work comforting,
And call me oft to Heaven's gate,
I'd quickly leave this trade I hate!
But when he takes me up on high,
The world beneath my feet does lie:
Then rest doth woo
Hans Sachs, the shoe-
Maker and the Poet too.
Beckmesser
(watching the window, which now opens softly).
The window's unclosed:—Oh heavens! 'tis she!
Eva (to Walter).
Why does that song dispirit me!
O hence, let us hasten!
O hence, let us hasten!
Walter (half drawing his sword).
But one way remains!
Eva.
Oh no! Forbear!
Walter.
He's scarce worth the pains!
Eva.
Yes, patience is best. Oh dearest love,
That I should such a trouble prove!
That I should such a trouble prove!
Walter.
Who's at the window?
Eva.
'Tis Magdalena.
Walter.
That's retribution: it sets me grinning.
Eva.
Would we could end, and fly this arena!
Walter.
I only wish he'd make a beginning.
(They follow the proceedings with increasing interest.)
Beckmesser
(who, while Sachs has continued his song and work, takes counsel with himself in great perturbation).
Now if he continues I am undone!
(He advances to the shop.)
Friend Sachs! pray hear a word—just one!
You work there at my shoes so fleetly,
While I'd forgotten them completely.
The cobbler worshipful I deem;
The critic, though, I more esteem.
Your taste, I know, is seldom wrong,
So, please you, hear this little song,
With which I seek to win to-morrow:
Your estimate I fain would borrow.
You work there at my shoes so fleetly,
While I'd forgotten them completely.
The cobbler worshipful I deem;
The critic, though, I more esteem.
Your taste, I know, is seldom wrong,
So, please you, hear this little song,
With which I seek to win to-morrow:
Your estimate I fain would borrow.
(With his back turned to the alley he strums on the lute to attract the attention of Magdalena and keep her at the window.)
Sachs.
Oh peace, and let me be!
Why seek to honor me?
'Tis clap-trap stuff that I put together:
I sing in the streets while I hammer my leather.
Why seek to honor me?
'Tis clap-trap stuff that I put together:
I sing in the streets while I hammer my leather.
(continuing to work.)
Tooral looral!
Tiddy fol de rol!
Tiddy fol de rol!
Beckmesser.
Confound the rogue!—How my brain he's racking!
His ditty reeks of pitch and blacking!—
Silence! Neighbors and all you'll awake.
His ditty reeks of pitch and blacking!—
Silence! Neighbors and all you'll awake.
Sachs.
They're used to this; no heed they'll take.—
"Oh Eve! oh Eve, you wicked wench!"—
"Oh Eve! oh Eve, you wicked wench!"—
Beckmesser.
Atrocious malice!—Zounds! it grows late!
She'll go from the window if longer I wait!
She'll go from the window if longer I wait!
(He strums a prelude.)
Sachs (With a blow of his hammer).
"Now begin!" Look sharp, or I too shall sing!
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