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Rh I ever met with," says the slave in waiting, "this fellow is the worst. He eats like a half-famished wolf, drinks in proportion, calls for more than is set before him, and sings, or rather howls, his ribald songs out of all tune,—

"Nor content with being voracious and dainty, he drinks till the wine fires his brain."

Hercules marks the rueful visage of his attendant, and thinking that Admetus has bidden him be as cheerful as usual, the family affliction being only a slight one, rates him roundly for his woe-begone looks:

"Hercules. Why look'st so solemn and so thought-absorbed?

To guests, a servant should not sour-faced be,

But do the honours with a mind urbane.

Whilst thou, contrariwise, beholding here

Arrive thy master's comrade, hast for him

A churlish visage, all one beetle-brow—

Having regard to grief that's out of door!

Come hither, and so get to grow more wise.