Nescio. “That’s Apple, through and through, to circumvent truth by a quibble.”
Pulito. “But have you no sympathy with this verdant city and its lovely scenes? Why, this very evening,
‘When the sweet wind doth gently kiss the trees.
And they do make no noise,’
is a copy of Paradise.”
Apple. “Yes! the ‘Paradise of fools.’”
Pulito.
“‘On such a night
Stood Dido, with a willow in her hand,
Upon the wild sea-banks, and waved her love