Corydon, what madness has caught thee? thy vine hangs half unpruned on her leaf-laden elm. Nay but rather at least something of all that daily work needs, set thou to weave of osiers or soft rushes: if he scorns thee, thou wilt find another Alexis.
ECLOGUE III.—PALAEMON.
Menalcas. Damoetas. Palaemon.
M.—Tell me, Damoetas, who is the flock's master? Meliboeus?
D.—No, but Aegon: Aegon gave it of late to my keeping.
M.—Poor sheep, ever a luckless flock! while the master clings by Neaera and dreads lest she prefer me before him, this hireling shepherd milks the sheep twice an hour: the juice is stolen from the flock, the milk from the lambs.
D.—Yet remember to be more sparing in thy jeers at men. We know by whom thou, while the he-goats peered sideways—and in what shrine, though the easy Nymphs laughed.
M.—Then, I think, when they saw me slashing Micon"s orchard and nursery vines with jealous hedgebill.
D.—Yes, or here by the old beeches, where thou brakest Daphnis' bow and reeds: for thou didst grieve, wicked Menalcas, when thou sawest
