“yes, the jingle ran thus. Now listen, madame—listen, the while that I have my singing out, whatever any little cut-throats may be planning in corners.”
Sang Sire Edward:
“As, later on,
Death will, half-idly, still our pleasuring,
And change for fevered laughter in the sun
Sleep such as Merlin’s,—and excess thereof,—
Whence we, divorceless Death our Viviaine
Implacable, may never more regain
The unforgotten rapture, and the pain
And grief and ecstasy of life and love.