Oh, oh, whence comes this ill temper?

NATHANAEL (to Hoffmann).

It's as if one did not know you.

HERMANN.

On what thorn have you trod?

HOFFMANN.

Alas, on a dead herb With the iced breath of the north.

NICKLAUSSE.

And there by this door, On a drunkard who sleeps.

HOFFMANN.

'Tis true... that rascal, by Jove, I envy him.

A drink. Like him, let's sleep in the gutter.

HERMANN.

Without pillow.

HOFFMANN.

The flags.

NATHANAEL.

Without curtains.

HOFFMANN.

The sky.

NATHANAEL.

The rain.

HERMANN.

Have you a nightmare, Hoffmann?

HOFFMANN.

No, but to-night, A while since, at the play...

ALL.

Well?

HOFFMANN.

I thought to see again...

The deuce... why reopen old wounds?

Life is short. Enjoy it while we can.

We must drink, sing, laugh, as we may, Left to weep to-morrow!

NATHANAEL.

Then sing the first without asking, We'll do chorus.

HOFFMANN.

Agreed!

NATHANAEL.

Something gay.

HERMANN.

The song of the Rat!

NATHANAEL.