Siebel. What ails me?
Altmayer. How?
Frosch. Was that thy nose, friend, I had hold of?
Brander [to Siebel]. And I have thine, too, in my hand!
Altmayer. O what a shock! through all my limbs 'tis crawling! Get me a chair, be quick, I'm falling!
Frosch. No, say what was the real case?
Siebel. O show me where the churl is hiding! Alive he shall not leave the place!
Altmayer. Out through the cellar-door I saw him riding— Upon a cask—he went full chase.— Heavy as lead my feet are growing.
[Turning towards the table.]
My! If the wine should yet be flowing.