One he would call Lion, another Hawk, one Sturdy and another Spot; and they, as if they were endowed with understanding, came up to him and, by the movement of their heads, expressed the pleasure which they felt at _his_ pleasure. In such wise came Erastro to where he was amiably received by Elicio, and even asked, allowing that he had not determined to spend the warm season of the sultry noon-tide in any other place, since that place in which they were was so fitted for it, whether it would be irksome to him to spend it in his company. 'With no one,' replied Erastro, 'could I pass it better than with you, Elicio, unless indeed it were with her who is as stubborn to my entreaties as she has proved herself a very oak to your unending plaints.' Straightway the twain sat them down on the close-cropped grass, allowing the herd to wander at will, blunting, with teeth that chew the cud, the tender little shoots of the grassy plain. And as Erastro by many plain tokens knew perfectly well that Elicio loved Galatea, and that the merit of Elicio was of greater carat than his own, in token that he recognised this truth, in the midst of his converse, among other discourses addressed to him the following: 'I know not, gay and enamoured Elicio, if the love I have for Galatea has been the cause of giving you pain, and if it has, you must pardon me, for I never thought to offend you, nor of Galatea did I seek aught save to serve her. May evil madness or cruel rot consume and destroy my frisky kids and my tender lambkins! when they leave the teats of their dear mothers, may they not find in the green meadow aught to sustain them save bitter colocynth and poisonous oleander, if I have not striven a thousand times to put her from my memory, and if I have not gone as many times more to the leeches and priests of the place, that they might give me a cure for the anguish I suffer on her account! Some of them bid me take all kinds of love-potions, others tell me to commend myself to God, who cures everything, or that it is all madness. Suffer me, good Elicio, to love her, for you can be sure that if you, with your talents and admirable graces and discourses, do not soften her, I shall scarce be able, with my simple ways, to move her to pity. This favour I beg of you, by what I am indebted to your deserving: for, even if you do not grant it me, it would be as impossible to cease loving her, as to cause these waters to cease from giving moisture, or the sun with his combed tresses from giving us light.'