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"There you go," cried he, "and a precious pair you are. See how
heaven brings birds of the same feather to one another. Where,
pray, master swineherd, are you taking this poor miserable
object? It would make any one sick to see such a creature at
table. A fellow like this never won a prize for anything in his
life, but will go about rubbing his shoulders against every
man's door post, and begging, not for swords and cauldrons {144}
like a man, but only for a few scraps not worth begging for. If
you would give him to me for a hand on my station, he might do
to clean out the folds, or bring a bit of sweet feed to the
kids, and he could fatten his thighs as much as he pleased on
whey; but he has taken to bad ways and will not go about any
kind of work; he will do nothing but beg victuals all the town
over, to feed his insatiable belly. I say, therefore--and it
shall surely be--if he goes near Ulysses' house he will get his
head broken by the stools they will fling at him, till they turn
him out."
On this, as he passed, he gave Ulysses a kick on the hip out of
pure wantonness, but Ulysses stood firm, and did not budge from
the path. For a moment he doubted whether or no to fly at
Melanthius and kill him with his staff, or fling him to the
ground and beat his brains out; he resolved, however, to endure
it and keep himself in check, but the swineherd looked straight
at Melanthius and rebuked him, lifting up his hands and praying
to heaven as he did so.
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