“Nay, nay, Signors—there is enough for all.”
“Thou hast poured all out, Gubetta. Thou hast none—now drink with me, Orsini, from the same cup. ’Twill drown our quarrel.”
“Nay, Signor Orsini, as a punishment on me, drink thou the whole draught thyself.”
“Obedience is good-will. Behold—the cup is empty.”
“Orsini! Orsini! the song.”
“Here ’tis.”
“‘Oh, I’ll teach you the secret I’ve taught me,
I mean the sure way to be glad,
’Tis—or cloudy—or freezing—or sunshine,
Oh! never, oh! never be SAD.
“Oh!—oh—sing, drink, and laugh at the madmen
Who give to the future a thought;
Let to-morrow look after to-morrow,
For double is trouble when sought.”
Hark—as the last note dies away, there is a slow chanting without.
“The joy of the profane is a passing smoke.”