I'm not for boasting. But thy wit hath all too keen an edge.
LACON.
Come sing, if singing's in thee—and may our friend get back
To town alive! Heaven help us, lad, how thy tongue doth clack!
COMETAS. [Sings]
Daphnis the mighty minstrel was less precious to the Nine
Than I. I offered yesterday two kids upon their shrine.
LACON. [Sings]
Ay, but Apollo fancies me hugely: for him I rear
A lordly ram: and, look you, the Carnival is near.