How fertile in new tricks is Chærephon, To sup scot-free and everywhere find welcome! Spies he a broker's door with pots to let? There from the earliest dawn he takes his stand, To see whose cook arrives; from him he learns Who 'tis that gives the feast,—flies to the house, Watches his time, and, when the yawning door Gapes for the guests, glides in among the first.—J. A. ST. JOHN. * * * * * ANAXIPPUS. (Book iv. § 68, p. 271.) Soup-ladle, flesh-hook, mortar, spit, Bucket and haft, with tool to fit, Such knives as oxen's hides explore, Add dishes, be they three or more.—MITCHELL. * * * * * TIMOCLES. (Book vi. § 2, p. 354.) Nay, my good friend, but hear me! I confess Man is the child of sorrow, and this world, In which we breathe, hath cares enough to plague us; But it hath means withal to soothe these cares, And he, who meditates on other's woes, Shall in that meditation lose his own: Call then the tragic poet to your aid, Hear him, and take instruction from the stage: Let Telephus appear; behold a prince, A spectacle of poverty and pain, Wretched in both.—And what if you are poor? Are you a demi-god? are you the son Of Hercules? begone! complain no more. Doth your mind struggle with distracting thoughts? Do your wits wander? are you mad? Alas! So was Alcmæon, whilst the world adored His father as their God. Your eyes are dim; What then? the eyes of Œdipus were dark, Totally dark. You mourn a son; he's dead; Turn to the tale of Niobe for comfort, And match your loss with hers. You're lame of foot; Compare it with the foot of Philoctetes, And make no more complaint. But you are old, Old and unfortunate; consult Oëneus; Hear what a king endured, and learn content. Sum up your miseries, number up your sighs, The tragic stage shall give you tear for tear, And wash out all afflictions but its own.—CUMBERLAND. * * * * * _From the same._ (Book vi. § 3, p. 355.) Bid me say anything rather than this; But on this theme Demosthenes himself Shall sooner check the torrent of his speech Than I—Demosthenes! that angry orator, That bold Briareus, whose tremendous throat, Charged to the teeth with battering-rams and spears, Beats down opposers; brief in speech was he, But, crost in argument, his threat'ning eyes Flash'd fire, whilst thunder vollied from his lips.—CUMBERLAND. * * * * * ANTIPHANES. (Book vi. § 3, p. 355.)