sinus,
Pulcher et fortissimus,
Sarcinis aptissimus.

"Hez, sire asne, car chantez
Belle bouche rechignez,
Vous aurez du foin assez,
Et de l'avoine a plantez."

"Good," said the visitor satirically; "that suits you--except it
should be '_occidentis_ partibus:' our Sir Asinus comes from the west.
And by my faith, I think I will in future dub you _Sir Asinus_, in
revenge for calling me--me, the most cheerful of light-hearted
mortals--the 'melancholy Jacques.'"

"Come, come!" said the gentleman threatened with this sobriquet,
"that's too bad, Jacques."

"_Jacques!_ You persist in calling me _Jacques_, just as you persist
in calling Belinda, _Campana in die_--_Bell in day_. What a deplorable
witticism! I could find a better in a moment. Stay," he added, "I have
discovered it already."

"What is it, pray, most sapient Jacques?"

"Listen, most long-eared Sir Asinus."

And the young man read once again;

"Hez, sire asne, car chantez,
BELLE BOUCHE rechignez;
Vous aurez du foin assez,
Et de l'avoine a plantez."

"Well," said his friend, "now that you have mangled that French with
your wretched pronunciation, please explain how my lovely
Belinda--come, don't sigh and scowl because I say 'my,' for you know
it's all settled--tell me where in these lines you find her name."

"In the second," sighed Jacques.

"Oh yes!--bah!"

"There you are sneering. You make a miserable Latin pun, by which you
translate Belinda into _Campana in die_--Bell in day--and when I
improve your idea, making it really good, you sneer."

"Really, now!--well, I don't say!"

"Belle-bouche! Could any thing be finer? 'Pretty-mouth!' And then the
play upon _Bel_, in Belinda, by the word _Belle_. Positively, I will
in future call her nothing else. Belle-bouche--pretty-mouth! Ah!"

And the unfortunate lover stretched languidly upon the lounge, studied
the ceiling, and sighed piteously.

His friend burst into a roar of laughter. Jacques--for let us adopt
the sobriquets all round--turned negligently and said:

"Pray what are you braying at, Sir Asinus?"

"At your sighs."

"Did I sigh?"

"Yes, portentously!"

"I think you are mistaken."

"No!"

"I never sigh."

And the melancholy Jacques uttered a sigh which was enough to shatter
all his bulk.

The consequence was that Sir Asinus burst into a second roar of
laughter louder than before, and said:

"Come, my dear Jacques, unbosom!