mouse tastes pitch,[1] Thyonichus—; and what may be the medicine for a love there’s no getting away from, ’faith, I know not—save that Simus that fell in love, as the saying is, with Mistress Brassbound[2] and went overseas, he came home whole; a mate of mine he was. Suppose I cross the water, like him; your soldier’s life, as ’tis not maybe o’ the highest, so is it not o’ the lowest, but ’tis e’en as good as another.
THYONICHUS
I would indeed thy desire had run smooth, Aeschinas. But if so be thy mind is made up to go thy ways abroad, I’ll e’en tell thee the best paymaster a freeman can have; King Ptolemy.
AESCHINAS
And what sort of man, pray, is this that is the best a freeman can have?
THYONICHUS
A kind heart, a man of parts, a true gallant, and the top o’ good-fellowship; knows well the colour of a friend, and still better the look of a foe; like a true king, gives far and wide and says no man nay——albeit ’tis true one should not be for ever asking alms, Aeschinas. (in mock-heroic strain) So an thou be’st minded to clasp the warrior’s cloak about thee, and legs astride to abide the onset of the hardy foe-man, to Egypt with thee. To judge by our noddles we’re all waxing old, and old Time comes us grizzling line by line down the cheek. We must fain be up and doing while there’s sap in our legs.
