Came waddling in and grumbling:
'What is't so late, when the feast is done,
To fiddles ye are mumbling?
Cease! ye disturb the Doctor Faust,
In the garden tower behind there;
If from his studies he be roused,
No gold will he e'er find there.
A. V. K. L. W. H.
Cavete scandala!'
Herr Faust sat backwards by the wall,