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.