human
Why, mistress, have I said aught amiss?
gpt
Nay, sir, what you say is naught to me, but—but I like not to be equalled with some English wench.
human
Good now! said I, and could not forbear smiling.
gpt
Know you, mistress, that Hebe was no English wench, but a fair maiden of most illustrious lineage, daughter of gods, herself a goddess, eternally young, and her office was to bear the wine-cup of the high Olympians, and I bethink me she was given as wife to Hercules himself.
human
Oh, mock me not with your Hebes and your Hercules! she cried in a pet.
gpt
I wish I had not brought you drink.
human
Nay, madam, for that I thank you heartily; and I shall hope to give you a better opinion of those of whom the poets sing, after this business is concluded.
gpt
A long after, I fear me,
human
Why no; I trow we have taught them a lesson,
gpt
You English are puffed up with your own conceit, she cried scornfully.
human
Think you an Irishman, and Rory Mac Shane, will be daunted by one failure? He is reputed the best fighter of all men hereabout. But indeed, Master Rudd —and ’twas marvellous how sudden her mood would change—
gpt
Two are past help, madam, I said gravely;