And I by myself scann’d his name secretly;
For well I knew it was some mad-headed child
That invented this name, that the log-headed knave might be beguil’d.
In tossing it often with myself to and fro,
I found out that Onaphets backward spelled Stephano.
I smiled in my sleeve, how to see by turning his name he dress’d him,
And how for Damon his master’s sake with a wooden cudgel he bless’d him.
None pitied the knave, no man nor woman; but all laugh’d him to scorn.
To be thus hated of all, better unborn:
Far better Aristippus hath provided, I trow;