Mir. But what of it?
Dor. This floating ram did bear his horns above, All tied with ribbands, ruffling in the wind: Sometimes he nodded down his head a-while, And then the waves did heave him to the moon, He clambering to the top of all the billows; And then again he curtsied down so low, I could not see him: Till at last, all side-long, With a great crack, his belly burst in pieces.
Mir. There all had perished, Had not my father's magic art relieved them.— But, sister, I have stranger news to tell you: In this great creature there were other creatures; And shortly we may chance to see that thing, Which you have heard my father call a man.
Dor. But, what is that? For yet he never told me.
Mir. I know no more than you:—But I have heard My father say, we women were made for him.
Dor. What, that he should eat us, sister?
Mir. No sure; you see my father is a man, and yet He does us good. I would he were not old.
Dor. Methinks, indeed, it would be finer, if We two had two young fathers.
Mir. No, sister, no: If they were young, my father Said, we must call them brothers.
Dor. But, pray, how does it come, that we two are Not brothers then, and have not beards like him?