Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/552

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DIALOGUE BETWEEN ECHO AND A GLUTTON.
Knowest thou whether London will henceforth continue to resist?
                   Echo—Resist.
Whether Vienna and other Courts will oppose me always?
                   Echo—Always.
O, Heaven! what must I expect after so many reverses?
                   Echo—Reverses.
What? should I, like a coward vile, to compound he reduced?
                   Echo—Reduced.
After so many bright exploits be forced to restitution?
                   Echo—Restitution.
Restitution of what I've got by true heroic feats and martial address?
                   Echo—Yes.
What will be the fate of so much toil and trouble?
                   Echo—Trouble.
What will become of my people, already too unhappy?
                   Echo—Happy.
What shall I then be, that I think myself immortal?
                   Echo—Mortal.
The whole world is filled with the glory of my name, you know.
                   Echo—No.
Formerly its fame struck this vast globe with terror.
                   Echo—Error.
Sad Echo, begone! I grow infuriate! I die!
                   Echo—Die.

Dialogue Between Echo and a Glutton.
1609.
Who curbs his appetite's a fool.
                Ah, Fool.
I do not like this abstinence.
                Hence.
My joy's a feast, my wish is wine.
                Swine.
We epicures are happy truly.
                You lie.
May I not, Echo, eat my fill?
                Ill.
Will it hurt me if I eat too much?
                Much.
Thou mock'st me, nymph; I'll not believe it.
                Believe it.
Dost thou condemn, then, what I do?
                I do.
Is it that which brings infirmities?
                It is.

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