Ah well! we’ve done it now. He has the gold;
It’s customary I suppose, and old—
It’s very sad—but stay! ’tis nearly ten,
Let’s brush ourselves a bit and try again.
(Music and jingling of bells outside.)
1st S.—
What sound is that—how palpitates my heart,
They must be coming—do you know your part?
Get in your places—don’t appear to see,
But fold your hands and sigh—and copy me.