92 
THE WORLD’S TRAGEDY. 
 
Whose windy letch hath blown me out  
Like a rich man with flatulence and gout ! 
 
THE HAG 
 
Ho !  stanch thy throttle ! 
Come forth ! 
 
She delivers her. 
 
O jest insane !  
For all this pious pain  
Naught but an old brass bottle ! 
 
GOVINDA 
 
Maybe it holds the two and seventy Jinn 
That Solomon screwed in. 
 
ALEXANDER 
 
More like, the wine that Dionysus spilled  
From Cyprus grapes distilled. 
 
CHAU 
 
We lose our wagers ?  It may be  
Best to unscrew it, and to see.