Æsculapius.
What song has the missel-thrush?
Dionysus.
It does not sing at all. Nor do trout.
Æsculapius.
You are sententious, Dionysus.
Dionysus.
No, but closely occupied. I am intent on the subtle movements of my rod, round which my thoughts and fancies wind and blossom till they have made a thyrsus of it. Now, however, I shall certainly catch no more fish, and so I may rest and talk to you. Are you searching for simples in this glen?
Æsculapius.