"To the brim, gentlemen," he commanded.

Then, in the silence that ensued, he attempted to stand with one foot on the ground and one on his chair; but encountering difficulties of balance, he remained upright--safer if less picturesque.
"Messieurs, I give you the most peerless, the most beautiful, the most difficult and cold lady in all France.

I drink to those her thousand graces, of which Fame has told us, and to that greatest and most vexing charm of all--her cold indifference to man.

I pledge you, too, the swain whose good fortune it maybe to play Endymion to this Diana.
"It will need," pursued La Fosse, who dealt much in mythology and classic lore--"it will need an Adonis in beauty, a Mars in valour, an Apollo in song, and a very Eros in love to accomplish it.

And I fear me," he hiccoughed, "that it will go unaccomplished, since the one man in all France on whom we have based our hopes has failed.