"Yes, Mohi; and my talk is my overflowing, not my fullness." "And what may you be so full of ?" "Of myself." "So it seems," said Mohi, whisking away a fly with his beard.
"Babbalanja," said Media, "you did right in selecting this ebon night for discussing the theme you did; and truly, you mortals are but too apt to talk in the dark." "Ay, my lord, and we mortals may prate still more in the dark, when we are dead; for methinks, that if we then prate at all, 'twill be in our sleep.

Ah! my lord, think not that in aught I've said this night, I would assert any wisdom of my own.

I but fight against the armed and crested Lies of Mardi, that like a host, assail me.

I am stuck full of darts; but, tearing them from out me, gasping, I discharge them whence they come." So saying, Babbalanja slowly drooped, and fell reclining; then lay motionless as the marble Gladiator, that for centuries has been dying..