Le. Let us have it then:
_Hi. Cui renidet hortus undiquaque flosculis,
Animumque nullis expolitum dotibus
Squalere patitur, is facit praepostere.
Whose Garden is all grac'd with Flowers sweet,
His Soul mean While being impolite,
Is far from doing what is meet._
Here's Verses for you, without the Muses or Apollo; but it will be very entertaining, if every one of you will render this Sentence into several different Kinds of Verse.
Le. What shall be his Prize that gets the Victory?
Hi. This Basket full, either of Apples, or Plumbs, or Cherries, or Medlars, or Pears, or of any Thing else he likes better.
Le. Who should be the Umpire of the Trial of Skill?
Hi. Who shall but Crato? And therefore he shall be excused from versifying, that he may attend the more diligently.
Cr. I'm afraid you'll have such a Kind of Judge, as the Cuckoo and Nightingal once had, when they vy'd one with the other, who should sing best.
Hi. I like him if the rest do.