Falk.
Ah but—you ‘only sit and live’—remember!
Drunk with the moment, you demand no more—
Not even a modest third-class next December.
You’ve caught the bird of Fortune fair and fleet,
You feel as if the world with all its store
Were scattered in profusion at your feet.
Lind.
Those were my words; they must be understood,
Of course, cum grano salis—