Shall I continue? I think the knight is in the wrong place. SACHS That will soon become clear: if he has true Art and is a good guardian of it, what does it matter who taught him? Von Finken und Meisen lerntet ihr Meisterweisen? Das wird denn wohl auch darnach sein! WALTHER Was Winternacht, was Waldespracht, was Buch und Hain mich wiesen, was Dichtersanges Wundermacht tried in secret to disclose to me; what my horse's step at a trial of arms, what a round-dance at a marry gathering gave me to attend to thoughtfully: if I must exchange life's highest prize for song, in my own words and to my own melody it will flow into a unity for me as a Mastersong, if I understand aright, and pour out before you Masters.
Therefore, Master Beckmesser, shut yourself in alone! Seven faults he allows you, he marks them up with chalk there: if he incurs more than seven faults, then the knightly gentleman has sung his chance away. Drum allein, Meister Beckmesser, schliesst euch ein! Wohl gibt's mit der Kreide manche Qual.
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Er verneigt sich gegen Walther. He seats himself in the box He listens very carefully; but so that he doesn't undermine your courage, as might happen if you saw him, he leaves you in peace and shuts himself up here. May God be with you.
With the last words he stretches his head out with a scornfully familiar nod, then pulls across the front curtains, so that he becomes invisible KOTHNER to Walther What the guiding principles of your song should be, learn from the Table of Rules. The apprentices have taken the "Leges Tabulaturae" from the wall and are holding it out to Kothner, who reads from it Reading "Each unit of a Mastersong shall present a proper balance of its different sections, against which no one shall offend.
A section consist of two stanzas, which shall have the same melody; the stanza is a group of so many lines, the line has its rhyme at the end. Thereupon follows the Aftersong which is also to be so many lines long and have its own special melody which is not to occur in the stanza. Each Mastersong shall have several units in this ratio; and whoever composes a new song which does not for more than four syllabies encroach upon other Master's melodies - his song may win a -master's prize.
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Darauf so folgt der Abgesang, der sei auch etlich' Verse lang, und hab' sein' besond're Melodei, als nicht im Stollen zu finden sei. Like the clanging of bells the throng of jubilation rings out! The forest, how soon it answers to the call which brought it new life, and struck up the sweet song of spring! During this, repeated groans of discouragement and scratchings of the chalk are heard from the Marker. Walther hears them too, and after a momentary pause of discomposure continues. In a thorn-hedge, consumed with jealousy and grief, winter, grimly armed, had to hide himself away: with dry leaves rustling about him he lies in wait and plans how he might harm this joyful singing.
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That was the call in my breast when it was still ignorant of love. Er steht vom Stuhle auf Doch: fanget an! So rief es mir in der Brust, als noch ich von Liebe nicht wusst'. I felt it rising deep within me as if it were waking me from a dream; my heart with its quivering beats filled my whole bosom: my blood pounds all-powerfully, swollen by this new feeling; from a warm night and with superior strength this host of sighs swells to a sea in a wild tumult of bliss: the breast, how soon it answers the call which brought it new life: strike up the majestic song of love!
He holds out the slate, completely covered with chalk marks. My lady's praises am I only now reaching with my melody.
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You're finished here! Masters, look at the slate: in all my life there has been nothing like it! I shouldn't belive it, even if you all swear to it! Am I to remain unheard by all? You are angry. Die Brust mit Lust antwortet sie dem Ruf, der neu ihr Leben schuf; stimmt nun an das hehre Liebeslied. Hier habt ihr vertan! Doch dass der Junker hier versungen hat, I'll first show before the Masters' assembly. To be sure, it will be a hard task: where begin, when there was no beginning nor end to it?
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Of false number and false grouping I'll make absolutely no mention: too short, too long, who might find an end there? Who would seriously call this a unit? I'll accuse him only of Blind Meaning; say, could a meaning be more meaningless? I must admit no one could descry its end. It made one uneasy! ZORN And nothing behind it! Or declare outright that he has sung his chance away?
Not so fast! Not everyone shares your opinion. Zwar wird's 'ne harte Arbeit sein: wo beginnen, da wo nicht aus noch ein? Wer meint hier im Ernst einen Bar? Auf "blinde Meinung" klag' ich allein, Sagt, konnt' ein Sinn unsinniger sein? Es ward einem bang! ZORN Auch gar nichts dahinter! Nicht so geeilt!
Nicht jeder eure Meinung teilt. If you wish to measure according to rules something which does not agree with your rules, forget your own ways, and first seek its rules! That's right! Now you hear it: Sachs is opening a loop-hole for bunglers who come and go as they please and follow their own frivolous course. Sing to the people on the market-place and in the streets; here admittance is only by the rules. Why so little calm?
Your judgement, it seems to me, would be more mature if you listened more carefully. That's why I'll finish by sayng that we must hear the knight to the end. But it is written: "The Marker shall be so disposed that neiter hatred nor love obscure the judgement which he gives. Des Ritters Lied und Weise, sie fand ich neu, doch nicht verwirrt; verliess er unsre Gleise, schritt er doch fest und unbeirrt. Wollt ihr nach Regeln messen, was nicht nach eurer Regeln Lauf, der eignen Spur vergessen, sucht davon erst die Regeln auf!
Singet dem Volk auf Markt und Gassen! Hier wird nach den Regeln nur eingelassen. Was doch so wenig Ruh'! Rather should he take care that nothing pinches my toes! But since my cobbler is a great poet thinas look bad for my footwear! Look how sloppy they are, they flap everywhere! All his verses and rhymes I'd glady have him leave at home, histories, plays, and farces too if he'd bring me my new shoes tomorrow! SACHS You do right to remind me; but is it fitting, Masters, tell me, that, if I make a little verse for even the donkey-driver's soles, I should write nothing on those of our highly learned town clerk?
Walther, much put out, remounts the Singer's seat The little verse which would be worthy of you I with all my humble poetic gifts have not yet found; but it will surely come to me now, when I've heard the knight's song - so let him sing on undisturbed! An end! Zum Schluss! What more should we hear? Unless it were to delude you? Each mistake, great and small, see it recorded exactly on the slate.
A "Patch-Song" here between the stanzas! A quite incomprehensible melody! A confused brew of all the tones! If you aren't put off by the toil, Masters, count the faults with me! He'd have failed with his eighth, but no one has yet got as far as he: certainly over fifty, at a rough count! Say, do you elect him Master? I see it clearly! It looks bad for the knight! Let Sachs think of him what he will, he must be silent here in the Singing-school! Is everyone of us not at liberty to decide whom he wishes as colleague?
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If every stranger were welcomed what worth would the Masters then have? How the knight is toiling away! Sachs has chosen him for his own. It's really vexatious! So put a stop to it!
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