Long ones are not good; and the best, if not
carefully
shelled, are apt
to be a little rancid on account of the gall!
to be a little rancid on account of the gall!
Poe - 5
as I called him when he sung a seculare for my amusement, while
I toasted him, in pure good humor, on a fork. But they want flavor,
these Romans. One fat Greek is worth a dozen of them, and besides will
keep, which cannot be said of a Quirite. --Let us taste your Sauterne. "
Bon-Bon had by this time made up his mind to nil admirari and endeavored
to hand down the bottles in question. He was, however, conscious of a
strange sound in the room like the wagging of a tail. Of this,
although extremely indecent in his Majesty, the philosopher took no
notice:--simply kicking the dog, and requesting him to be quiet. The
visiter continued:
"I found that Horace tasted very much like Aristotle;--you know I am
fond of variety. Terentius I could not have told from Menander. Naso, to
my astonishment, was Nicander in disguise. Virgilius had a strong twang
of Theocritus. Martial put me much in mind of Archilochus--and Titus
Livius was positively Polybius and none other. "
"Hic-cup! " here replied Bon-Bon, and his majesty proceeded:
"But if I have a penchant, Monsieur Bon-Bon--if I have a penchant, it
is for a philosopher. Yet, let me tell you, sir, it is not every dev--I
mean it is not every gentleman who knows how to choose a philosopher.
Long ones are not good; and the best, if not carefully shelled, are apt
to be a little rancid on account of the gall! "
"Shelled! "
"I mean taken out of the carcass. "
"What do you think of a--hic-cup! --physician? "
"Don't mention them! --ugh! ugh! ugh! " (Here his Majesty retched
violently. ) "I never tasted but one--that rascal Hippocrates! --smelt of
asafoetida--ugh! ugh! ugh! --caught a wretched cold washing him in the
Styx--and after all he gave me the cholera morbus. "
"The--hiccup--wretch!
I toasted him, in pure good humor, on a fork. But they want flavor,
these Romans. One fat Greek is worth a dozen of them, and besides will
keep, which cannot be said of a Quirite. --Let us taste your Sauterne. "
Bon-Bon had by this time made up his mind to nil admirari and endeavored
to hand down the bottles in question. He was, however, conscious of a
strange sound in the room like the wagging of a tail. Of this,
although extremely indecent in his Majesty, the philosopher took no
notice:--simply kicking the dog, and requesting him to be quiet. The
visiter continued:
"I found that Horace tasted very much like Aristotle;--you know I am
fond of variety. Terentius I could not have told from Menander. Naso, to
my astonishment, was Nicander in disguise. Virgilius had a strong twang
of Theocritus. Martial put me much in mind of Archilochus--and Titus
Livius was positively Polybius and none other. "
"Hic-cup! " here replied Bon-Bon, and his majesty proceeded:
"But if I have a penchant, Monsieur Bon-Bon--if I have a penchant, it
is for a philosopher. Yet, let me tell you, sir, it is not every dev--I
mean it is not every gentleman who knows how to choose a philosopher.
Long ones are not good; and the best, if not carefully shelled, are apt
to be a little rancid on account of the gall! "
"Shelled! "
"I mean taken out of the carcass. "
"What do you think of a--hic-cup! --physician? "
"Don't mention them! --ugh! ugh! ugh! " (Here his Majesty retched
violently. ) "I never tasted but one--that rascal Hippocrates! --smelt of
asafoetida--ugh! ugh! ugh! --caught a wretched cold washing him in the
Styx--and after all he gave me the cholera morbus. "
"The--hiccup--wretch!
