Versatur urna; serius ocius
Sors exitura, et nos in æternum
Exilium impositura cymbæ.[[22]]
“In the meanwhile, let us drink! Citizen, will you join us at table?”
Epicharis said it would only be polite of him, and made to seize him by the arm. But he tore himself away, relying on the promise the deputy public prosecutor had made.
[22].
We all must tread the paths of Fate,
And ever shakes the mortal Urn,
Whose Lot embarks us, soon or late,