rattling rage! To how many I gave an example! Now I have outlived my life, and only the husk is left for death! “Catch the moments”—that’s my motto! And I have not been idle to catch them! I’ve caught so many that I want no more. Now, perhaps, another kiss, a little draught of wine, a burst of merry laughter—and it will be!
Columbine: But aren’t you afraid?
Harlequin: It would be more frightful to be born! Now I’m going back again.
Columbine: To sink into nothing!
Harlequin: But if death’s nothing, what have I to fear?
Columbine: Anyhow, I’m afraid.
Harlequin: Your bowl’s not emptied; you’re afraid not to be ready.
Columbine: But only think
Harlequin: It thinks for us.
Columbine: But we?
Harlequin: We’ll remember the march of the clock—the swift march of the clock! Stretch out, Columbine! Press the clusters of life! Turn them to wine! Don’t tarry for delight, so as to be sated when death comes! (Takes the lute.)
