Fit for Jove's own guests to eat,
They, when happier moments shine,—
They, the Attic figs, are mine. —J. A. St. John.
Epicrates. (Book ii. § 54, p. 98.)
A. I pray, you, Sir, (for I perceive you learn'd
In these grave matters,) let my ignorance suck
Some profit from your courtesy, and tell me
What are your wise philosophers engaged in,
Your Plato, Menedemus and Speusippus?