This is hard work! Well, of course people cannot be deserting every day either. I only wish the harvest were over. After all, life consists of nothing but work; now draw beer, then clean glasses, then pour it out—now even reap. Life means work—and here some learned folk are even so wicked, in their books, as to try to put sleep out of fashion, because one does not live enough for one's time. But I am a great friend of sleep.
[Enter HINZE.]
HINZE.
Whoever wants to hear something wonderful, listen to me now! How I have been running!—first from the royal palace to Gottlieb, second with Gottlieb to the palace of the Bugbear where I left him, third from there back again to the king, fourth I am now racing ahead of the king's coach like a courier and showing him the way. Hey! good friend!
HOST.
Who's that? Countryman, you must probably be a stranger, for the people in this neighborhood know that I do not sell any beer about this time; I need it for myself; when one does work like mine, one must also fortify one's self. I am sorry, but I cannot help you.
HINZE.
I do not want any beer, I never drink beer; I only want to say a few words to you.
HOST.
You must certainly be a regular idler, to attempt to disturb industrious people in their occupation.