Philosopher. Ah! gentlemen, what are you about?
Trissotin (to Vadius). Go, go, and make restitution to the Greeks and Romans for all your shameful thefts!
Vadius. Go, and do penance on Parnassus for having murdered Horace in your verses!
Trissotin. Remember your book, and the little stir it made.
Vadius. And you, remember your bookseller, reduced to the workhouse.
Trissotin. My fame is established; in vain would you endeavor to shake it.
Vadius. Yes, yes; I’ll send you to the author of the Satires.
Trissotin. I, too, will send you to him.
Vadius. I have the satisfaction of having been honorably treated by him; he gives me a passing thrust, and includes me among several authors well known at court. But you he never leaves in peace; in all his verses he attacks you.
Trissotin. By that we see the honorable rank I hold. He leaves you in the crowd, and esteems one blow enough to crush you. He has never done you the honor of repeating his attacks, whereas he assails me separately, as a noble adversary against whom all his efforts are necessary. His blows, repeated against me on all occasions, show that he never thinks himself victorious.