your prisoner." "Dog!" said Pindar, "let your ransom stay with
your friends; but your carcase shall be left for the fowls of the
air and the beasts of the field." With that he raised his sword,
and, with a mighty stroke, cleft the wretched Modern in twain, the
sword pursuing the blow; and one half lay panting on the ground, to
be trod in pieces by the horses' feet; the other half was borne by
the frighted steed through the field. This Venus took, washed it
seven times in ambrosia, then struck it thrice with a sprig of
amaranth; upon which the leather grow round and soft, and the
leaves turned into feathers, and, being gilded before, continued
gilded still; so it became a dove, and she harnessed it to her
chariot. . . .
. . . . HIATUS VALDE DE-
. . . . FLENDUS IN MS.


THE EPISODE OF BENTLEY AND WOTTON.


Day being far spent, and the numerous forces of the Moderns half
inclining to a retreat, there issued forth, from a squadron of
their heavy-armed foot, a captain whose name was Bentley, the most
deformed of all the Moderns; tall, but without shape or comeliness;
large, but without strength or proportion. His armour was patched
up of a thousand incoherent pieces, and the sound of it, as he
marched, was loud and dry, like that made by the fall of a sheet of
lead, which an Etesian wind blows suddenly down from the roof of
some steeple. His helmet was of old rusty iron, but the vizor was
brass, which, tainted by his breath, corrupted into copperas, nor
wanted gall from the same fountain, so that, whenever provoked by