Jacques stands astounded at this gigantic philological joke, to the great satisfaction of his friend, who caresses his sandy whiskers with still greater self-appreciation.
"Now call me Sir Asinus any longer, if you dare!" he says; and he begins chanting from the open book:
"Saltu vincit hinnulos,
Damas et capreolos,
Super dromedarios,
Velox Madianeos!
Dum trahit vehicula
Multa cum sarcinula,
Illius mandibula
Dura terit pabula!"
"Translate now!" cries Sir Asinus, "and bear testimony to my worth."
Jacques takes the book and reads over the Latin; then he extemporizes:
"In running he excels
Doctor Smalls and antelopes;
Swift beyond the camels.
Or Midianitish proctors.
While he drags his dulness
In verse along his pages,
His asinarian jaw-bones
Make havoc with the rhymes!"
Having modestly made this translation, Jacques closes the book and rises.
Sir Asinus tears his hair, and declares that his friend's ignorance of Latin is shocking.
"The ordinary plea when the rendering of disputed passages is not to our taste," says Jacques. "But I must go. By the by, the worthy Doctor came near seeing you in the Governor's chariot."
"It was more than he dared to recognise me," said Sir Asinus grandly.