That I've forgot--but I have not, how once Eumares tied
You to that selfsame oak-trunk, and tanned your unclean hide.
COMETAS.
There's some one ill--of heartburn. You note it, I presume,
Morson? Go quick, and fetch a squill from some old beldam's tomb.
LACON.
I think I'm stinging somebody, as Morson too perceives--
Go to the river and dig up a clump of sowbread-leaves.
COMETAS.
May Himera flow, not water, but milk: and may'st thou blush,
Crathis, with wine; and fruitage grow upon every rush.
LACON.
For me may Sybaris' fountain flow, pure honey: so that you,
My fair, may dip your pitcher each morn in honey-dew.
COMETAS.
My goats are fed on clover and goat's-delight: they tread
On lentisk leaves; or lie them down, ripe strawberries o'er their head.
LACON.
My sheep crop honeysuckle bloom, while all around them blows
In clusters rich the jasmine, as brave as any rose.
COMETAS.
I scorn my maid; for when she took my cushat, she did not
Draw with both hands my face to hers and kiss me on the spot.
LACON.
I love my love, and hugely: for, when I gave my flute,
I was rewarded with a kiss, a loving one to boot.
COMETAS.
Lacon, the nightingale should scarce be challenged by the jay,
Nor swan by hoopoe: but, poor boy, thou aye wert for a fray.
MORSON.
I bid the shepherd hold his peace.
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