Think'st thou 'twill not be laid i' th' dish,
Thou turn'dst thy back?" Quoth Echo, Pish.
To run from those th' hadst overcome
Thus cowardly?" Quoth Echo, Mum.
"But what a-vengeance makes thee fly
From me too as thine enemy?
Or if thou hadst no thought of me,
Nor what I have endured for thee,
Yet shame and honour might prevail
To keep thee thus from turning tail:
For who would grudge to spend his blood in
His honour's cause?" Quoth she, A pudding.

Part I., Cant. 3, 183.



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Hoc est quod palles? Cur quis non prandeat, hoc est?
PERS., Sat. iii. 85.

Is it for this you gain those meagre looks,
And sacrifice your dinner to your books?

Several kinds of false wit that vanished in the refined ages of the
world, discovered themselves again in the times of monkish
ignorance.