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Str. Sleep, if you like; but these debts, I can tell you,

Will fall on your own head some day, young man.

Heugh! may those match-makers come to an evil end

Who drew me into marrying your good mother!

There I was living a quiet life in the country,—

Shaved once a-week, may-be, wore my old clothes—

Full of my sheep, and goats, and bees, and vineyards,

And I must marry the fine niece of Megacles.

The son of Megacles! an awkward country fellow

Marry a fine town belle, all airs and graces!

A pretty pair we were to come together—

I smelling of the vineyard and the sheep-shearing,

She with her scents, and essences, and cosmetics,

And all the devilries of modern fashion.

Not a bad housekeeper though—I will say that—

For she kept open house. "Madam," said I,

Showing her one day my old coat with a hole in't,

By way of parable,—"this can't last long."

Slave (examining the lamp, which is going out). This lamp has got no oil in it.

Str. Deuce take you,

Why did you light that thirsty beast of a lamp?

Come here, and you shall catch it.

Slave. Catch it,—why?

Str. (boxes his ears). For putting such a thick wick in, to be sure.—

Well,—in due time this boy of ours was born

To me and my grand lady. First of all,

We got to loggerheads about his name;

She would have something that had got a horse in it,—

Xanthippus—or Charippus—or Philippides;

I was for his grandfather's name—Pheidonides.

Well, for some time we squabbled; then at last