Nor swan by hoopoe: but, poor boy, thou aye wert for a fray.
MORSON.
I bid the shepherd hold his peace. Cometas, unto you
I, Morson, do adjudge the lamb. You'll first make offering due
Unto the nymphs: then savoury meat you'll send to Morson too.
COMETAS.
By Pan I will! Snort, all my herd of he-goats: I shall now
O'er Lacon, shepherd as he is, crow ye shall soon see how.
I've won, and I could leap sky-high! Ye also dance and skip,
My hornèd ewes: in Sybaris' fount to-morrow all shall dip.