Finirent multi letho mala; credula vitam
Spes alit, et melius cras fore semper ait.
TIBULLUS.
He fell to juggle, cant, and cheat . . .
For as those fowls that live in water
Are never wet, he did but smatter;
Whate’er he labour’d to appear,
His understanding still was clear.
A paltry wretch he had, half starved,
That him in place of zany served.