To pour his soul out in your royal ears.
Chro. Then use thy master's tongue with reverence.
Nor waste it in thine own loquacity,
But briefly and at large declare thy message.
Her. Suspend awhile, great Chrononhotonthologos,
The fate of empires and the toils of war;
And in my tent let's quaff Falernian wine
Till our souls mount and emulate the gods.
Two captive females, beauteous as the morn,
Submissive to your wishes, court your option.