’Tis not every monk ceases living
With so pleasant a taste on his lips;
But, lest Montepulciano unsurely should kiss,
Take this![588] and this! and this!
* * * * *
Cover him over, Pietro,[589]
And bury him in the court below[590]—
You can be secret, lad, I know!
And, hark you,[591] then to the convent[592] go—
Bid every bell[593] in the convent toll,