"'There is one misery on earth,
Well, well for him, who knows it not!
With beggar's staff to wander forth,
Imploring alms from spot to spot.'
"And the last verse:
"'And shall we never receive our due?
Will our sore trials never end?
Leader to victory, be true,
Come quickly, death, beloved friend.'
"I often sang it in those days; but now: What does the world cost? A thousand zechins is not too much for me to pay for it!"
"Have you gained booty, Hans?"
"Better must come; but I'm faring tolerably well. Nothing but feasting!
Three of us came here from Venice through Lombardy, by ship from Genoa to
Barcelona, and thence through this barren, stony country here to Madrid."
"To take service?"
"No, indeed. I'm satisfied with my company and regiment. We brought some pictures here, painted by the great master, Titian, whose fame must surely have reached you. See this little purse! hear its jingle—it's all gold! If any one calls King Philip a niggard again, I'll knock his teeth down his throat."
"Good tidings, good reward!" laughed Moor. "Have you had board and lodging too?"
"A bed fit for the Roman Emperor,—and as for the rest?—I told you, nothing but feasting. Unluckily, the fun will be all over to-night, but to go without paying my respects to you…..Zounds! is that the little fellow—the Hop-o'my-Thumb-who pressed forward to the muster-table at Emmendingen?"