"'Vixere fortes ante Agamemnona
Multi—'
my Lord!" said I. I was drawing the bishop out. "There were ironical cheers at 'Agamemnona.'"
"'Mutato nomine, de te
Fabula narratur,'"
said the bishop, smiling. "Of course, we have many a rich depositary of classical lore here,
"'At suave est ex magno tollere acervo.'"
"My Lord," said I, pointing around the table,
"'Omnes hi metuunt versus, odere poetas,'"—
("Oh! Oh! Oh!" from the Conference.)
"'Nec recito cuiquam nisi amicis, idque coactus
Non ubivis coramve quibuslibet.'"
Here the Master of Conference, seeing that the bishop was getting the worst of it, though his Lordship is a profound scholar, broke in:—