is an orator, it will be most pleasant to be one of his patients.

TOI. Certainly, it will be something admirable if his cures are as
wonderful as his speeches.

ARG. Now, quick, my chair; and seats for everybody. (_Servants bring
chairs._) Sit down here, my daughter. (_To_ MR. DIAFOIRUS) You
see, Sir, that everybody admires your son; and I think you very
fortunate in being the father of such a fine young man.

MR. DIA. Sir, it is not because I am his father, but I can boast that
I have reason to be satisfied with him, and that all those who see him
speak of him as of a youth without guile. He has not a very lively
imagination, nor that sparkling wit which is found in some others; but
it is this which has always made me augur well of his judgment, a
quality required for the exercise of our art. As a child he never was
what is called sharp or lively. He was always gentle, peaceful,
taciturn, never saying a word, and never playing at any of those
little pastimes that we call children's games. It was found most
difficult to teach him to read, and he was nine years old before he
knew his letters. A good omen, I used to say to myself; trees slow of
growth bear the best fruit. We engrave on marble with much more
difficulty than on sand, but the result is more lasting; and that
dulness of apprehension, that heaviness of imagination, is a mark of a
sound judgment in the future. When I sent him to college, he found it
hard work, but he stuck to his duty, and bore up with obstinacy
against all difficulties. His tutors always praised him for his
assiduity and the trouble he took. In short, by dint of continual
hammering, he at last succeeded gloriously in obtaining his degree;
and I can say, without vanity, that from that time till now there has