This right worshipful father Bacchus, whom we have here nodding with his crimson phiz, to be revenged on the Thebans had got a fairy fox, who, whatever mischief he did, was never to be caught or wronged by any beast that wore a head.
The noble Vulcan here present had framed a dog of Monesian brass, and with long puffing and blowing put the spirit of life into him; he gave it to you, you gave it your Miss Europa, Miss Europa gave it Minos, Minos gave it Procris, Procris gave it Cephalus.

He was also of the fairy kind; so that, like the lawyers of our age, he was too hard for all other sorts of creatures; nothing could scape the dog.

Now who should happen to meet but these two?
What do you think they did?
Dog by his destiny was to take fox, and fox by his fate was not to be taken.
The case was brought before your council: you protested that you would not act against the fates; and the fates were contradictory.

In short, the end and result of the matter was, that to reconcile two contradictions was an impossibility in nature.

The very pang put you into a sweat; some drops of which happening to light on the earth, produced what the mortals call cauliflowers.