Battus and Corydon, two rustic fellows, meeting in a glade, gossip
about their neighbour, Aegon, who has gone to try his fortune at the
Olympic games. After some random banter, the talk turns on the death
of Amaryllis, and the grief of Battus is disturbed by the roaming of
his cattle. Corydon removes a thorn that has run into his friend's
foot, and the conversation comes back to matters of rural scandal.

The scene is in Southern Italy.

Battus. Tell me, Corydon, whose kine are these,--the cattle of
Philondas?

Corydon. Nay, they are Aegon's, he gave me them to pasture.

Battus. Dost thou ever find a way to milk them all, on the sly, just
before evening?

Corydon. No chance of that, for the old man puts the calves beneath
their dams, and keeps watch on me.

Battus. But the neatherd himself,--to what land has he passed out of
sight?

Corydon. Hast thou not heard? Milon went and carried him off to the
Alpheus.

Battus. And when, pray, did HE ever set eyes on the wrestlers' oil?

Corydon. They say he is a match for Heracles, in strength and
hardihood.