MENALCAS.
Who hates not living Bavius, let him be
(Dead Mævius!) damn'd to love thy works and thee!
The same ill taste of sense would serve to join
Dog-foxes in the yoke, and shear the swine.
DAMŒTAS.
Ye boys, who pluck the flowers, and spoil the spring,
Beware the secret snake that shoots a sting.
MENALCAS.
Graze not too near the banks, my jolly sheep;
The ground is false, the running streams are deep:
See, they have caught the father of the flock,
Who dries his fleece upon the neighbouring rock.
DAMŒTAS.
From rivers drive the kids, and sling your hook;
Anon I'll wash them in the shallow brook.
MENALCAS.