Up to the altar, where devoted lies The priest himself, a panting sacrifice. Thus with his blood the temple they prophane; Losing their gods; Troy's ruin thus began: Now the bright taper of the night appears, Gayly attended with a train of stars: When midst the Trojans, dead in sleep and wine, The Grecians execute their dire design: When from the open'd caverns of the horse, Like a large flood, their hidden troops did gush; And now deliver'd, leave their horse and fear, With the same wanton motions colts appear: When from the plow, and heavy collar freed, They shake their rising crests, and try their speed. Their swords they brandish, and their shields they rear, And fix their helmets, then begin the war: A party here o' th' drunken Trojans light, And send them snoring to eternal night; Another there now made their altars smoke, And against Troy, Troy's guardian gods invoke." When Eumolpus had gone thus far in his story, the people that were walking there, began to fling stones at him: But he, conscious of his merit, cover'd his head, and took up his heels: I, fearing they wou'd have taken me for a poet too, made after him: When we were out of stone shot of the enemy, "I beseech you, sir," said I, "what will you do with this disease of yours? I don't wonder at the peoples humour, since I have hardly been acquainted with you two hours, and your entertainment has been more poetry than the conversation of a man. I think I must fill my pocket with stones, that when I perceive you going into a fit, I may bleed you in the head for it, with one of 'em." He turn'd to me, and, "Dear child," said he, "I rose to day without consulting my fortune; tho' 'tis confest I seldom appear even on the stage, but such a mobb as this are laughing at me: But that I may not be at difference with you too, I'll tye my self up from this humour of poetry:" "Well, well," said I, "on that condition I sup with you;" upon which, going into the poor cottage I lodg'd at, we order'd the master of it to get us a supper, and in the mean time we went to the bagnio, where I saw Gito standing against the wall, with towels and rubbing brushes in his hand; his troubl'd countenance easily perswaded me he serv'd on compulsion: As soon as he saw me, with joy addressing himself, he told me, that since I was not in that martial posture that once frighted him to belye his affections, he cou'd freely speak to me, upon which he entreated me to pity his circumstances; and, if I cou'd but deliver him from so barbarous a master, since he was now sorry he was forc'd to be my judge, I might take my satisfaction in any punishment I'de please to inflict; "for," added he, "if I must dye, 'twill be comfort enough to so unhappy a wretch to think that you are pleas'd in 't."