"What a simile!" cried Gagabu. "You must explain it."
"It cleanses the soul of sorrow," answered the other. "Good, friend!" they all exclaimed. "Now every one in turn shall praise the noble juice in some worthy saying."
"You begin—the chief prophet of the temple of Atnenophis."
"Sorrow is a poison," said the priest, "and wine is the antidote."
"Well said!—go on; it is your turn, my lord privy councillor."
"Every thing has its secret spring," said the official, "and wine is the secret of joy."
"Now you, my lord keeper of the seal."
"Wine seals the door on discontent, and locks the gates on sorrow."
"That it does, that it certainly does!—Now the governor of Hermothis, the oldest of all the company."
"Wine ripens especially for us old folks, and not for you young people."