Should’st thou take one, alike are our conditions.”
Solve me this problem, ye arithmeticians.
If the reader be at all skilled in threading the labyrinths of Algebra, he may discover that the ass bore five, and the mule seven measures. (Vide Day’s Alg. passim.)
Here we have a compliment to a beautiful girl, from Plato, even from the veritable Ipse Dixit himself, whose frosty philosophy thawed before the fire of love.
Thou gazest at the stars, my star,
And would I were the sky,
That I might view thee from afar
With many a glowing eye.
By Theodorus, to Harmocrates, whose nasal developement was uncommonly huge.
Thy nose, my friend, is so excessive,