Well, well, I can’t stay to argue with you. I’ve but a little time to flutter myself.
[Exit on the wing.
[Enter Omar from tavern. He is by this time magnificently intoxicated and is leaning on the arm of a fascinating Sáki. He has a jug of wine in his hand.
Omar.
[Trying to kiss her.] Ah, my beloved, fill the cup that clears to-day of past regrets and future fears. To-morrow! Why to-morrow I may be——
Sáki.
[Interrupting.] I know what you’re going to say. To-morrow you’ll be sober. But you won’t. I know you. Go home!
Omar.
Home!—hic. What do I want with home? A book of verses underneath the bough, a jug of wine, a loaf of bread—no, no bread, two jugs of wine—and thou [puts arm round her waist] beside me singing like a bulbul.