"What have you there in front of you?"
"Ink."
"And I do not drink ink, but I'll taste your drink; give me some."
"Ink is not to drink."
"What is it for?"
"You see. Men dip quills in it, and write letters with it, and what is in the letters causes greater delight to the human soul than your wine to the human throat."
"Give me a swallow of it that I may learn its taste."
"Nobody can give of this drink."
"Is it frozen?"
"Yes, just that. It is written in a foreign language that I do not myself understand."