Listen!"
And now did Sir Thomas clear his voice, always high and sonorous,
and did repeat from the stores of his memory these rich and proud
verses, -
"'Chloe! mean men must ever make mean loves;
They deal in dog-roses, but I in cloves.
They are just scorch'd enough to blow their fingers;
I am a phoenix downright burnt to cinders.'"
At which noble conceits, so far above what poor Bill had ever
imagined, he lifted up his eyes to heaven, and exclaimed, -
"The world itself must be reduced to that condition before such
glorious verses die! CHLOE and CLOVE! Why, sir! Chloe wants but a
V toward the tail to become the very thing! Never tell me that such
matters can come about of themselves. And how truly is it said that
we mean men deal in dog-roses.
"Sir, if it were permitted me to swear on that holy Bible, I would
swear I never until this day heard that dog-roses were our
provender; and yet did I, no longer ago than last summer, write, not
indeed upon a dog-rose, but upon a sweet-briar, what would only
serve to rinse the mouth withal after the clove."
SIR THOMAS.
"Repeat the same, youth. We may haply give thee our counsel
thereupon."
Willy took heart, and lowering his voice, which hath much natural
mellowness, repeated these from memory:-
"My briar that smelledst sweet
When gentle spring's first heat
Ran through thy quiet veins, -
Thou that wouldst injure none,
But wouldst be left alone, -
Alone thou leavest me, and nought of thine remains.
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