Heed not the face of my good coz here.

_Foenum habet in cornu_, as Don Horace has it; but I warrant him harmless for all that." "Stint your bull's bellowing!" exclaimed the other.

"If it come to Horace, I have a line in my mind: _Loquaces si sapiat_----How doth it run?
The English o't being that a man of sense should ever avoid a great talker.

That being so, if all were men of sense then thou wouldst be a lonesome man, coz." "Alas! Dicon, I fear that your logic is as bad as your philosophy or your divinity--and God wot it would be hard to say a worse word than that for it.

For, hark ye: granting, _propter argumentum_, that I am a talker, then the true reasoning runs that since all men of sense should avoid me, and thou hast not avoided me, but art at the present moment eating herrings with me under a holly-bush, ergo you are no man of sense, which is exactly what I have been dinning into your long ears ever since I first clapped eyes on your sunken chops." "Tut, tut!" cried the other.