Adm. Since summer’s fiery Sirius, fair cousin,
Neither from place nor power in heaven declines,
Will you not rest?
Leonor. Ah, what a noble sport
Is hunting! who so abject-spirited
As not to love its generous cruelty!
Adm. It is indeed a noble imitation
Of noblest war. As when a white-tuskt boar
Holds out alone against the yelling pack,
Gores one, o’erthrows another, all the while