Thank that incomparable paragon, that consummate swan, that pearl of all perfection, my mistress, of whose brightness I am but the mirror and medium." "Pardon me, sir," said I, feeling very foolish to comprehend not a word of his fine talk, "if you have anything to tell me, pray, say so; but, for the life of me, I cannot discover what you mean by all this." "I mean," said he, "that she, my lady, the Aphrodite who rules these waves, the star who guides our course, the nymph who suns her locks on this poor ship, the same condescends to call you her servant; wherefore, owe it to her, that thou mayest also call me thy master." I began to weary of this jargon.

Moreover, the fellow now seemed to be talking about matters which he had better leave to Ludar and me.

So I said: "You are none of my master.

I have a better." He looked a little hurt at this, I thought, and said: "Can an ass call the horse its master when a man claimeth both?
Who is this mortal, sirrah, that I may scorn him ?" "This gentleman is my master," said I, growing very hot, and laying my hand on Ludar's arm.
The gallant laughed.
"Pretty, on my life! The dog hath its parasites, the scullion his menial, the earthen pot his mug, and each puffeth himself into a gentleman thereby.

And who may you be, forsooth ?" "Ludar McSomhairle Buidhe McDonnell of the Glyns," said Ludar, solemnly.
The fellow laughed outright.
"I do remember," said he, "a pretty jest of Dan Aesopus about a jackdaw who thought himself a peacock because he had a monstrous long feather to his tail.