Page:Frogs (Murray 1912).djvu/50

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What? Surely you don't mean to take away

Your own gift?

Mean it? No; I'm doing it!

Off with that lion-skin, quick.

[Begins to strip off the lion-skin by force.

Help! I'm assaulted

I leave it with the Gods!

The Gods, indeed!

What senseless vanity to expect to be

Alcmena's son, a mortal and a slave!

Well, take it. I don't care.—The time may be,

God willing, when you'll feel the need of me!

That's the way such points to settle,

Like a chief of tested mettle,

Weather-worn on many seas,

Not in one fixed pattern stopping,

Like a painted thing, but dropping

Always towards the side of ease.

'Tis this instinct for soft places,

To keep warm while others freeze,

Marks a man of gifts and graces,

Like our own Theramenes!