Ibycus. (Book xiii. § 17, p. 903.)
Sweetest flower, Euryale!
Whom the maids with tresses fair,
Sister Graces, make their care—
Thee Cythera nourish'd—thee
Pitho, with the radiant brow;
And 'mid bowers where roses blow
Led thy laughing infancy.—Bland.
Alexis. (Book xiii. § 18, p. 904.)
Dost thou see any fellow poll'd and shaven,
And askest me from whence the cause should come?
He goes unto the wars to filch and raven,
And play such pranks he cannot do at home.
Such pranks become not those that beards do weare:
And what harm is it if long beards we beare?
For so it is apparent to be scene,
That we are men, not women, by our chin.—Molle.
Timocles. (Book xiii. § 22, p. 908.)
Wretch that I am,
She had my love, when a mere caper-gatherer,
And fortune's smiles as yet were wanting to her.
I never pinch'd nor spared in my expenses,
Yet now—doors closely barr'd are all the recompence
That waits on former bounties ill bestow'd.—Mitchell.
Alexis. (Book xiii. § 23, p. 908.)
They fly at all, and, as their funds increase,
With fresh recruits they still augment their stock,
Moulding the young novitiate to her trade;
Form, features, manners, everything so changed,
That not a trace of former self is left.
Is the wench short? a triple sole of cork
