Come hither, and trample dainty fern and poppy-blossom: sleep
On goatskins that are softer than thy fleeces piled three deep.
Here will I plant eight milkpails, great Pan's regard to gain,
Bound them eight cups: full honeycombs shall every cup contain.
LACON.
Well! there essay thy woodcraft: thence fight me, never budge
From thine own oak; e'en have thy way. But who shall be our judge?
Oh, if Lycopas with his kine should chance this way to trudge!
COMETAS.
Nay, I want no Lycopas. But hail yon woodsman, do: