No More Learning

Magnes.
[Flourished about b. c. 430. See Parabasis to Aristophanes' "Knights," end of Vol. 8. ]
Have you not heard the hot loaves from the pan Hissing when honey you have poured thereon ?
Teleclides.
[See Crates for a companion picture. Several other poets of the period have left similar skits, but these two are sufficient]
The Golden Age.
[Zeus speaks. ]
I will tell you, then, what the life was that at first I made ready for
mortals.
To begin with, peace was for all, just like water for washing the
hands.
The earth bore no fear nor diseases, all the needfuls were there of
themselves :
For each mountain stream flowed with wine, and the loaves had a
strife with the biscuits
To enter the mouths of the people, and begged to be taken and
eaten
If any one loved utter whiteness; the fishes came into the houses, And broiling themselves, placed their bodies for viands upon the
tables ;
Beside every couch ran a river of soup with hot meat floating
through it ;
And streamlets of salads were there for all who might chance to
desire them,
So that the tender mouthful was lavishly watered to swallow. Cakelets thrown into dishlets were ready and sprinkled with sauce-
lets ;
And one could see thrushes with toastlets flying into men's gullets ; From the pancakes jostling each other at mouths came a cry as of
battle,
And boys along with their mothers played dice with the tidbits and
cutlets.
Men were all corpulent then, and a huge aggregation of giants.
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS. 291
Cratinus.
[Flourished from about 480 to 423 b. c. The originator of political comedy. See, for a magnificent tribute to him, the Parabasis to Aristophanes' "Knights," end of Vol. 3. He won nine first prizes, one over Aristophanes himself after the latter had counted him out of the field, and when near death. ]
The Cyclops to Ulysses and his Company.
Fob all these services, my dear companions, When I have taken you and roasted you,
Boiled you, and broiled you on a charcoal fire, Salted you down and dipped you into pickle, — Warm vinegar and salt, or salt and garlic, — Him that seems cooked most perfectly of all I'll gnaw his bones myself, in soldier fashion.
The men who lived in times of yore, When Kronos was their king,
They gambled with the loaves of bread, And often used to fling
The ripe iEgina barley cakes
Down in the wrestling ring ; —
And they plumed themselves upon their lands When Kronos was the king.
Have you seen that Thasian pickle, how he does the big bow-wow ? How well and swiftly he pays back his grudges, here and now !
It's not " a blind man talking to a deaf one," you'll allow.
A. How can one break this man, how can one, pray, Break him from drink, from drinking much too much ?
B. I know : I'll smash his gallon jars for him, And burn his casks to ashes like the lightning, And all the other vessels for his liquor,
Till not a wine cup shall be his to own.
It takes more than the eating of one brook trout To make one an epicure out and out.
[Lampon was a soothsayer, whose gluttony and covetousness were constant butts of Aristophanes. ]
There's Lampon, whom never a law men could make
Would keep from his friends when a spread was at stake ; . . .
Now he's belching again ;
He eats all that's in sight — for a mullet he'd fight.
292
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POET*
Leda's Egg.
Leda, this is your work : now it is your duty Dignifiedly, like a hen, — there's no other wise, — To sit on and hatch us out perfect little beauty,
A bird so wonderful that one must praise to the skies.
[On the luxury of old times
By their ears stood the soft thyme, the lily, or the rose Sceptre-globe and staff held, market loungers those.
[On the Lacedaemonian feast called the Kopis compare Irving's " Knick erbocker," and the lump of sugar hung by string
Is true, as they say, that each stranger among The arrivals banqueted high at that feast
In the clubrooms are sausages skewered and hung For the elders to bite pieces off with their teeth
[On the youth
The land has trained and fed them free
At public cost to man's degree, That they may its defenders be.
[The woman speaks
Let us return to what we were discussing
Whether this man, who has another woman
In his heart, slandering me to her think His trouble part old age, and partly liquor For nothing comes before his drink to him.
Good Lord, don't know letters, they're no reliance of mine But I'll tell you the story with my tongue, for remember fine.
[On himself see Parabasis as above:]
Lord Apollo, what flood of words
The torrents roar twelve springs are in that mouth, Ilissus in that throat What shall tell you
For unless some one plugs that mouth of yours, Everything here will be o'erflowed with songs.
Time was that with only rag to your loin You cheerfully threw in your lot with mine, And drank the lees of the poorest wine.
Far from the lyre the asses sit.
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FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS. 293
Every spectator will take his chances to sleep, if he's wise, To be rid of the spell of stupidity cast by the poets' eyes.
Splendid things are waiting for you, you'll be glad to hit on ; Gracious beaming girls, that and maple stools to sit on.
The Cottabus.
It death to drink wine that water's come near
But she mixed half and half of two lots that were sheer,
And drank six quarts from curving cup, Then named the Corinthian pet she held dear,
And threw the last drops for what fate would show up.
Crates.
[Flourished about b. c. 440. For his literary character, see Parabasis to the "Knights," as above. ]
Old Age.
These shriveled sinews and this bending frame
The workmanship of Time's strong hand proclaim Skilled to reverse whate'er the gods create,
And make that crooked which they fashion straight. Hard choice for man — to die, or else to be
That tottering, wretched, wrinkled thing you see, Yet age we all prefer for age we pray,
And travel on to life's last lingering day
Then sinking slowly down from worse to worse, Find Heaven's extorted boon our greatest curse. . You've cursed to me as mighty ill,
Yet borne not, death the price — greater still We covet, yet reject when arrived —
So thanklessly our nature contrived.
The blossoming of bosoms that are maiden's dower
Is like
rosy apple or arbutus in flower.
Megabyzus feeds the hind Shivering at his door He will get dole of food
For wages — nothing more.
The Golden Age.
[See also Teleclides. ]
A. Then none shall own slave of either sex. B. But shall an old man have to serve himself
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294 FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
A. Oh no : I will make all these things come straight.
B. And how will it better them ?
A.
Why, all utensils
Will come of their own accord when called. " Here, table,
Come up and set yourself ! You bread-trough, knead ! — Pitcher, pour wine ! Where's the cup ? wash yourself ! — The dinner-pot had best give forth some beets ! —
March, fish ! " — " But I'm not cooked on the other side. " — " Turn over, then, and salt yourself, you fool ! "
B. Well, listen, tit for tat : contrariwise
I'll bring the hot baths to my friends' abodes,
On columns such as through the hospital
By the seaside, so that they shall flow to each
Into his bath : he speaks, the water stops.
And then an alabaster box of unguent
Shall come of its own accord, and sponge, and slippers.
Swarms and swarms of lovers come here,
We've so many young pigs and lambs for their cheer.
Python.
[Of Catana. Flourished in the time of Alexander the Great. For HarpalnB ("Pallides"), the subject of these sarcastic lines, see note under Dinarchus,
in the selections from the Ten Attic Orators. The courtesan referred to was his mistress Pythionica. ]
Where grew this reed, a lofty crag aspires, Beyond the reach of birds ; and on its left A harlot's famous temple, which Pallides Building, condemned himself to exile for. Then some of the Barbarians' magi, noting His sorry plight, persuaded him their spells Could raise the soul of Pythionica.
****** A. But I would learn from you,
Since far from there I dwell — the Attic land What fortunes hap, and how its people fare.
B. When they declared they led the life of slaves, They had food in plenty ; now they solely eat
Fennel and pulse, and very little corn.
A. And yet I hear that Harpalus has sent them Thousands of bushels of wheat, not less than Agen, And has been made a freeman of the city.
B. That was Glycera's wheat; and just the same A pledge of ruin, not of comradeship.
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS- 295
MOSCHION. [Contemporary with Chaeremon. ] Origin of Civilization.
First I come forward, and will put in words
The start and ordering of mortals' life.
When that time was, that like the savage beasts
Men had the mountain caves for their abode,
Dwelt in the sunless chasms of the rocks ;
When the thatched roof was not, nor cities wide Fended by towers of stone ; nor the curved plow
Had cleft the dark earth clod, the corn-fruit's mother, Nor the great workman iron had helped to till
The gardens flowing with Iacchus' wine,
But mute and barren was the virgin earth ;
And for all food, flesh-eaters slew each others
And furnished forth their feasts ; and law was helpless, And Force held joint dominion with the gods,
The weak being food for the stronger. But when Time, Progenitor and nourisher of all,
Brought changes to this pristine life of men,
Either instructed by Prometheus' care,
Or sheer necessity or experience hard —
Making their inner being's self a teacher,
They found a way to cultivate the food
Of chaste Demeter ; found the luscious fount
Of Bacchus ; and the earth, before untilled,
Now felt the plow as oxen bore the yoke.
And cities towered and houses covered round
They built ; and changed their old existence wild
For that of civilized amenities.
Henceforward, too, the law enjoined that dying,
One's dust be covered by a lot-drawn tomb ;
No longer lie unburied in men's sight,
Impious remembrancer of former feasts.
Patrocles.
[Date uncertain ; somewhere in this period. ]
See now the many formidable words
Fate gathers in this little instrument ! [the tongue]. Why do we mortals swell with idle threats,
And heap up tools of vengeance with our hands, Yet look not forward to our near-by doom,
To see and know our own unhappy lot?
—
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
Apollonides.
[Uncertain, but in this period. ]
Ah, ladies, in our human race
Not gold, or ease, or royal place, Afford such sweetness ever new
As to good men and women true Just judgment and right feeling do.
Ecdorus.
[As above. ] Body Like Soul.
Where'er you find a form that's foul of face, You'll always find it with befitting ways ; For nature out of evil evil breeds,
As serpent unto serpent still succeeds.
Sosiphaites.
[See above. ]
0 mortals most ill-fated, little blest,
Why do you magnify your offices,
Which one day gave, and one may take away ? If, being naught, you gain success, you straight Liken yourselves to Heaven, nor bear in mind Nor see the ruling Hades not far off.
Hermippus. [Flourished just before Aristophanes. ]
As to mischievous habits, if you ask my vote,
I say there are two common kinds of self -slaughter : One, constantly pouring strong wine down your throat,
'Tother, plunging in up to your throat in hot water.
[On a gluttonous rival :]
If there were such a race of men we had to fight to-day,
And they were captained by a big broiled fish or fatted hog, The rest should stay at home and send Nothippus to the fray
H6'd single-handed eat the whole Morea for his prog.
Do you know what to do for me ? Your little cup I scorn, But give me just one swig from out that jolly drinking-horn.
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
Hail, transmarine army ! " What then are we doing ? Our bodies are soft to appearance, but then,
The vigor of youth in our muscles is brewing :
Have you heard that Abydans have turned into men ?
War.
Now with shaggy cloaks we're done : Each one puts his breastplate on, Binds the greaves upon his thighs 5 Sandals white we all despise.
One may see the cottabus staff Rolled neglected in the chaff ; No last drops the Manes hears, And the wretched scale appears Lying on the rubbish pile
Just beside the garden stile.
Eupolis.
297
"
[Born B. C. 449 ; drowned at the battle of Cynossema, 410 ; also said, but probably without truth, to have been assassinated at the instance of Alcibiades for a lampoon in one of his plays. He collaborated with Aristophanes in the
"Knights," and is said to have written part of the closing chorus. lieved to have been second only to Aristophanes in genius. ]
The Parasite.
Mark now, and learn of me the thriving arts By which we parasites contrive to live :
Fine rogues we are, my friend, of that be sure, And daintily we gull mankind. — Observe! First I provide myself a nimble thing
He is be
To be my page, a varlet of all crafts ;
Next two new suits for feasts and gala days, Which I promote by turns, when I walk forth
To sun myself upon the public square ;
There if perchance I spy some rich, dull knave, Straight I accost him, do him reverence,
And sauntering up and down, with idle chat
Hold him awhile in play : at every word
Which his wise worship utters, I stop short
And bless myself for wonder ; if he ventures
On some vile joke, I blow it to the skies,
And hold my sides for laughter. — Then to supper With others of our brotherhood, to mess
In some night cellar on our barley cakes,
And club inventions for the next day's shift.
298
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
Yes, music is a science deep, involved,
And ever something new will be found in it By those who have the genius of discovery.
Those whom you'd once have not made wine inspectors Now you make generals. O city, city !
How much more lucky than rational you are !
A. Let Alcibiades keep away from the women.
B. You're talking nonsense : why don't you go home And train your own wife to her duty first ?
Pherecrates.
[Flourished b. c. 438-420. ] On Old Age.
Age is the heaviest burden man can bear, Compound of disappointment, pain, and care : For when the mind's experience comes at length, It comes to mourn the body's loss of strength ; Resigned to ignorance all our better days, Knowledge just ripens when the man decays ; One ray of light the closing eye receives,
And wisdom only takes what folly leaves.
The Musical Inventors of the Day.
[Music comes in, dressed in woman's garb, bruised and torn, and Justice in quires the reason. ]
Music — I speak not loath, for 'tis your part
To hear, and speaking glads my heart From Melanippides arose
My sorrows : he was first of those Who seizing me relaxed my wings, Giving a dozen slacker strings
For the old eleven ; yet, be sure,
He was a man I could endure
Compared with these, the last and worst. For one Cinesias, an accurst
Athenian, making discords vile
By sudden turns for novel style
In strophic endings, so destroyed me That in the verse where he employed me, His dithyrambs, like shields in fight You'd think the left side was the right. But even this you could not call
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
Rough in comparison at all :
Phrynis came next, and, having thrown
A certain whirlwind of his own
To the front, with twists and turns of tone Ruined me quite, while on five strings
A dozen harmonies he rings.
Yet even he could be endured,
For his wrong-doing could be cured,
But, dearest, Timotheus, you see,
— Buried and foully murdered me.
Justice— Timotheus who ? Music
— Milesian.
A red-head low
Justice Music —
Has he harmed you so ? All that I tell you : I'm undone
By tortuous melodies that run
Along the strings like swarms of ants.
And if by any evil chance
Walking alone he ever meets me,
With the twelve strings he ties and beats me.
The Real "Old Times. "
Nobody then had male or female servants, —
No help at all, — and each had for himself
To execute all labors in the house :
Mornings with their own hands they ground the corn, The hamlet echoed as they thumped the mills.
Settling a Bore.
If a conceited donkey start to bray,
I'd answer him — " Don't have so much to say ! Be pleased to turn your mind and ears this way. "
The Feminine Toper.
A. I'm just out of the hot-bath, quite cooked through ; My throat's as dry —
B.
I'll bring you something to drink. A. Dear me, my mouth is sticky with saliva.
B. How large a cup will satisfy you ?
A. Well,
Don't make it small : it always stirs my bile When I've drunk medicine from such a one ;
So have mine poured into a good-sized cup. . . .
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
A.
B. Isn't it watered ?
300
[The same topic elsewhere. ]
Then by the potters for the men were made
Broad cups that had no sides, but only bottoms,
Not holding a mussel-shellful — just like tasters ;
But for themselves [women] deep cups like merchant vessels Wine-ships, round, grasped by the middle, belly- shaped ; — Not thoughtlessly, but with long-sighted craft
How they could guzzle wine and give no reasons.
Then, when we charge that they've drunk up the wine,
They tongue us, swearing they have " drunk but one " ;
But that one's bigger than a thousand cups.
A Floral Invocation.
You with mallow sighings, hyacinthine breath, Honey-clover speeches, rose smiles for your mate,
Marjoram kisses, love-embraces in a parsley wreath, Tiger-lily laughter, larkspur gait, —
Pour the wine and raise the paean as the sacred laws dictate !
Plato ("Comiccs"). [Flourished B. C. 428-389. ]
On the Tomb of T/iemistocles.
By the sea's margin, on the watery strand, Thy monument, Themistocles, shall stand :
By this directed to thy native shore
The merchant shall convey his freighted store ; And when our fleets are summoned to the fight, Athens shall conquer with thy tomb in sight.
Epicureanism as its Enemies Fancy. Father —
Thou hast destroyed the morals of my son, And turned his mind, not so disposed, to vice,
Glyce, this isn't drinkable. A. Why, it's nothing but water.
What did you do, wretch ? B. Two parts, mamma. A.
B.
What did you pour in ? To how much wine ?
***#**##
Why, four. A. Go to the deuce ! You ought to mix for frogs.
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS. 801
Unholy pedagogue! With morning drams,
A filthy custom which he caught from thee,
Far from his former practice, now he saps
His youthful vigor. Is it thus you school him ?
Sophist —
And if he did, what harms him ? Why complain you ? He does but follow what the wise prescribe,
The great voluptuous law of Epicurus,
Pleasure, the best of all good things of earth ;
And how but thus can pleasure be obtained ?
Father —
Virtue will give it him.
Sophist — And what but virtue Is our philosophy ? When have you met
One of our sect flushed and disguised with wine ? Or one, but one, of those you tax so roundly
On whom to fix a fault ?
Father — Not one, but all,
All who march forth with supercilious brow
High arched with pride, beating the city rounds, Like constables in quest of rogues and outlaws, To find that prodigy in human nature,
A wise and perfect man ! What is your science But kitchen science ? Wisely to descant
Upon the choice bits of a savory cup,
And prove by logic that his summum bonum
Lies in his head ; there you can lecture well,
And whilst your gray hairs wag, the gaping guest Sits wondering with a foolish face of praise.
Amipsias. [Contemporary of Aristophanes. ]
A. Best of a few, most trifling of a crowd
Are you here with us also, Socrates ?
You're a sturdy man : where did you get that cloak ?
B. This happened ill — the tailors stand a loss. A. Yet he, thus dirty, would not suffer flattery.
Strattis.
[Flourished about b. c. 410-380. ]
No one can bear To drink his wine hot ; on the contrary
It should be cooled in a well, or mixed with snow.
302
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
Theopompus.
[Exhibited down to about b. c. 376. ]
Stop gambling, boy, and for the future eat
More vegetables. Your stomach's indurated :
I'd leave off eating oysters for the present ;
And furthermore, new wine's the best for counsel. If you do this, your fortunes will be easier.
Philonides.
[Date uncertain. ]
Because I hold the laws in due respect And fear to be unjust, am I a coward ? Meek let me be to all the friends of truth, And only terrible amongst its foes.
Polyzelus.
[Uncertain ; in this period. ]
Out of three evils before him, he has to make choice of one :
To drag the cross he'll be nailed to, drink hemlock, or scuttle and run From the ship, which will save him from such an evil reward : These are Theramenes' three, against which he wishes to guard
Demetbius.
[About b. c. 400. ]
The easiest thing to snare is villainy ; For, always working solely to its gain, With headlong folly it credits everything.
"MIDDLE COMEDY. " Antiphaotes.
[Of Smyrna or Rhodes ; began to exhibit about 383 b. c. One of the fore most poets of the " Middle Comedy " ; won thirty prizes. ]
On Women.
A. Ye foolish husbands, trick not out your wives ; Dress not their persons fine, but clothe their minds. Tell 'em your secrets ? — Tell 'em to the crier,
And make the market place your confidant !
B. Nay, but there's proper penalties for blabbing.
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
A. What penalties ? they'll drive you out of them Summon your children into court, convene
Relations, friends, and neighbors to confront
And nonsuit your complaint, till in the end
Justice is hooted down, and quiet prevails. . . . For this, and only this, I'll trust a woman : That if you take life from her, she will die, And being dead she'll come to life no more ;
In all things else I am an infidel.
Oh ! might I never more behold a woman !
Rather than I should meet that object, gods,
Strike out my eyes — I'll thank you for your mercy.
A Different View of the Same.
The man who first laid down the pedant rule That love is folly, was himself the fool ;
For if to life that transport you deny,
What privilege is left us — but to die ?
The Unwelcomeness of Death.
Ah, good my master, you may sigh for death, And call in vain upon him to release you,
But will you bid him welcome when he comes ? Not you : old Charon has a stubborn task
To tug you to his wherry and dislodge you From your rich tables, when your hour is come.
I
A good, brisk, sweeping, epidemic plague : There's nothing else can make you all immortal.
muse the gods send not a plague amongst you,
Death's Inn.
Cease, mourners, cease complaint, and weep no more. Your lost friends are not dead, but gone before, Advanced a stage or two upon that road
Which you must travel in the steps they trode ;
In the same inn we all shall meet at last, Then take new life and laugh at sorrows past.
The Parasite. [See also Eupolis. ]
What art, vocation, trade, or mystery
Can match with your fine parasite ? — The painter ?
FRAGMENTS OP GREEK COMIC POETS.
He ! a mere dauber ; a vile drudge the farmer : — Their business is to labor, ours to laugh,
To jeer, to quibble, faith, sirs ! and to drink, Aye, and drink lustily. Is not this rare ?
'Tis life — my life at least. The first of pleasures Were to be rich myself ; but next to this
I hold it best to be a parasite,
And feed upon the rich.
Now mark me right !
Set down my virtues one by one : imprimis, Good will to all men — would they were all rich So might I gull them all : malice to none ;
I envy no man's fortune — all I wish
Is but to share it. Would you have a friend,
A gallant steady friend ?
I
No striker I, no swaggerer, no defamer,
But one to bear all these, and still forbear :
If you insult, I laugh, unruffled, merry, Invincibly good-humored, still I laugh :
A stout good soldier I, valorous to a fault, When once my stomach's up and supper served. You know my humor — not one spark of pride, Such and the same forever to my friends.
If cudgeled, molten iron to the hammer
Is not so malleable ; but if I cudgel,
Bold as the thunder. Is one to be blinded ? I
I
am the lightning's flash : to be puffed up ?
am the wind to blow him to the bursting.
Cloaked, strangled ? I can do't and save a halter.
Would you break down his doors ? behold an earthquake; Open and enter them ? a battering-ram
Will you sit down to supper ? I'm your guest,
Your very fly to enter without bidding.
Would you move off ? You'll move a well as soon. — I'm for all work, and though the job were stabbing, Betraying, false-accusing, only say
" Do this," and it is done !
They call me Thunderbolt for my dispatch.
Friend of my friends am I. Let action speak me :
I'm much too modest to commend myself.
An honest man to law makes no resort : His conscience is the better rule of court.
am your man :
I stick at nothing
;
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
Anaxandbides.
[A Hhodian ; began to exhibit B. C. 376. ]
Evils of Secrecy.
Sweet it When one has had new idea rise,
To blazon for they whose knowledge lies Sole in themselves, first, have no test in mind Of technic next, they are hated, for mankind Should be given all the freshest things we find.
Ruled by their Stomachs.
[These mock serious lines apparently relate to a still-life picture of
A. The lovely handiwork of portrait painters, Set on an easel, a thing to admire
But this ignobly comes from off platter, Swiftly evanished from a frying pan
305
his longing ends in marriage train of evils in one's life.
Sensibly,
It starts
For
He has
Of whom he's slave and hired man. If again He takes one bringing naught, he's twice slave For then there's two to feed instead of one.
One takes punk she's not worth living with, Nor bringing into home in any way.
Another takes beauty she belongs — As much to her husband's neighbor as to him. So that there's no way evils won't attend it.
vol. iv. —20
hired man take woman's riches, lady mistress, not wife,
fish. ]
B. But by what other handicraft, good sir,
Are young men's mouths so quickly set on fire,
Or fingers set to choke their owners, poking
If they're unable to swallow quick enough
Are not our parties solely made delightful
By the fish market What men dine together Without fry, or black perch that you buy,
Or sprats And then, as to the blooming boy, What charms or speeches can you catch him with, Tell me, you but take away the skill
Of the fisherman — for this how he's tamed, Vanquished by the cooked faces of the fishes.
The Croaker upon Marriage.
Whoever longs to marry, doesn't long
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806 FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
EUBULUS.
[Flourished from about b. c. 375 to 325 ; his period almost exactly coinciding with that of the " Middle Comedy. "]
Three cups of wine a prudent man may take : The first of these for constitution's sake ;
The second to the girl he loves the best ;
The third and last to lull him to his rest,
Then home to bed ! But if a fourth he pours, That is the cup of folly, and not ours ;
Loud, noisy talking on the fifth attends ;
The sixth breeds feuds and falling out of friends ; Seven beget blows and faces stained with gore ; Eight, and the watch patrol breaks ope the door ; Mad with the ninth, another cup goes round,
And the swilled sot drops senseless to the ground.
On a Painting of Love.
Why, foolish painter, give those wings to love ? Love is not light, as my sad heart can prove : Love hath no wings, or none that I can see ;
If he can fly, oh ! bid him fly from me !
Nicostratus.
[A son of Aristophanes. ]
An Ancient Wonderland Animal.
A. Is it a man-of-war, a swan, or a beetle ? When I have found out what, I'll undertake Any adventure.
B. Doubtless a swan-beetle.
A Health.
A. And I, beloved,
Pour out to you the stirrup-cup of health. Good health to you !