COMETAS.
The skin that Crocylus gave me, a dark one streaked with white,
The day he slew his she-goat. Why, thou wert ill with spite,
Then, my false friend; and thou would'st end by beggaring me quite.

LACON.
Did Lacon, did Calæthis' son purloin a goatskin? No,
By Pan that haunts the sea-beach! Lad, if I served thee so,
Crazed may I drop from yon hill-top to Crathis' stream below!

COMETAS.
Nor pipe of thine, good fellow--the Ladies of the Lake
So be still kind and good to me--did e'er Cometas take.

LACON.
Be Daphnis' woes my portion, should that my credence win!
Still, if thou list to stake a kid--that surely were no sin--
Come on, I'll sing it out with thee--until thou givest in.

COMETAS.
'_The hog he braved Athene._' As for the kid, 'tis there:
You stake a lamb against him--that fat one--if you dare.

LACON.
Fox! were that fair for either? At shearing who'd prefer
Horsehair to wool? or when the goat stood handy, suffer her
To nurse her firstling, and himself go milk a blatant cur?

COMETAS.
The same who deemed his hornet's-buzz the true cicala's note,