Componit furtim, subsequiturque decor.
Or what do you think of those in a modern play, which might actually have been composed with an eye to this little trifler—
——‘See with what a waving air she goes
Along the corridor. How like a fawn!
Yet statelier. No sound (however soft)
Nor gentlest echo telleth when she treads,
But every motion of her shape doth seem
Hallowed by silence. So did Hebe grow
Among the gods a paragon! Away, I’m grown
The very fool of Love!’