Who devours the withered husk!
Chorus.
I have plucked the flower, etc.
[They clink and empty their glasses.
Falk [to the ladies].
There—that’s the song you asked me for; but pray
Be lenient to it—I can’t think to-day.
Guldstad.
Oh, never mind the sense—the sound’s the thing.
Miss Jay [looking round].