But they want
flavor, these Romans. One fat Greek is worth a dozen of them, and
besides will keep, which cannot be said of a Quirite.- Let us taste
your Sauterne."
Bon-Bon had by this time made up his mind to nil admirari and
endeavored to hand down the bottles in question. He was, however,
conscious of a strange sound in the room like the wagging of a tail.
Of this, although extremely indecent in his Majesty, the philosopher
took no notice:- simply kicking the dog, and requesting him to be
quiet. The visiter continued:
"I found that Horace tasted very much like Aristotle;- you know I
am fond of variety. Terentius I could not have told from Menander.
Naso, to my astonishment, was Nicander in disguise. Virgilius had a
strong twang of Theocritus. Martial put me much in mind of
Archilochus- and Titus Livius was positively Polybius and none other."
"Hic-cup!" here replied Bon-Bon, and his majesty proceeded:
"But if I have a penchant, Monsieur Bon-Bon- if I have a penchant,
it is for a philosopher. Yet, let me tell you, sir, it is not every
dev- I mean it is not every gentleman who knows how to choose a
philosopher. Long ones are not good; and the best, if not carefully
shelled, are apt to be a little rancid on account of the gall!"
"Shelled!"
"I mean taken out of the carcass.
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