begin
the serenade, Sachs, vigourously hammering on his last, prevents
him by bursting forth on his own account in a lusty ditty with
much loud Ohe, Ohe, Trallalei!--a playful ditty, sweet at the core,
about Eve, the original mother, and the first pair of shoes, ordered
for her from an angel by the Lord himself, who was sorry to see the
pitiful sinner, when turned out of Paradise, go bruising her little
feet, for which He had a tenderness, on the hard stones; and Adam,
too, stubbing his toes against the flints, the song tells how he
on the same occasion was measured for boots. Beckmesser can hardly
contain his impatience and disgust till the first verse comes to an
end. Upon the last note of it, he addresses the shoe-maker with
what sickly civility he can summon: "How is this, master? Still
up? So late at night?" Sachs expresses an equal surprise to find
the town-clerk moving abroad: "I suppose you are concerned for
your shoes. I am at work on them, as you see; you shall have them
to-morrow."--"Devil take the shoes!" groans Beckmesser; "What I want
here is quiet!" But his words are lost amid Sachs's hammer-blows
and unmoderated voice launching forth upon the second verse. "You
are to stop at once!" Beckmesser, in mounting anger, orders Sachs,
as, hardly pausing to take breath, the shoe-maker is attacking
the third verse. "Is it a practical joke you are playing on me?
Do you make no distinction between the night and the day?" Sachs
looks at him in innocent surprise. "What does it matter to you that
I should sing? You are anxious, are you not, to have your shoes
finished?"--"Shut yourself up indoors then and keep quiet!"--"Nay,
night-labour is burdensome; if I am to keep cheerful at my work, I
must have air and light-hearted song. So hear how the third verse
goes!" And he attacks it with a will. There is added to Beckmesser's
other troubles the fearful thought that the maiden may mistake this
outrageous bellowing for his love-song. A second-story window in
Pogner's house has softly opened, a form is dimly outlined within
the frame of it. "I am lost now," Beckmesser desperately reflects,
"if he goes on singing!" He resolutely steps up to Sachs: "Friend
Sachs, just listen to one word! How bent you seem upon those shoes!
I truly had forgotten all about them. As a shoe-maker, the fact is,
I hold you in great esteem, but as an artist and critic I honour
you even more highly. I beseech you therefore to give your attention
to a