Here's Verses for you, without the _Muses_ or _Apollo_; but it will be very entertaining, if every one of you will render this Sentence into several different Kinds of Verse.

_Le._ What shall be his Prize that gets the Victory?

_Hi._ This Basket full, either of Apples, or Plumbs, or Cherries, or Medlars, or Pears, or of any Thing else he likes better.

_Le._ Who should be the Umpire of the Trial of Skill?

_Hi._ Who shall but _Crato_? And therefore he shall be excused from versifying, that he may attend the more diligently.

_Cr._ I'm afraid you'll have such a Kind of Judge, as the Cuckoo and Nightingal once had, when they vy'd one with the other, who should sing best.

_Hi._ I like him if the rest do.

_Gu._ We like our Umpire. Begin, _Leonard_.

_Le. Cui tot deliciis renidet hortus, Herbis, fioribus, arborumque foetu, Et multo et vario, nec excolendum Curat pectus et artibus probatis, Et virtutibus, is mihi videtur Laevo judicio, parumque recto.

Who that his Garden shine doth mind With Herbs and Flowers, and Fruits of various kind; And in mean While, his Mind neglected lies Of Art and Virtue void, he is not wise._

I have said.

_Hi. Carinus_ bites his Nails, we look for something elaborate from him.

_Ca._ I'm out of the poetical Vein.

_Cura cui est, ut niteat hortus flosculis ac foetibus, Negligenti excolere pectus disciplinis optimis; Hic labore, mihi ut videtur, ringitur praepostero.

Whose only Care is that his Gardens be With Flow'rs and Fruits furnish'd most pleasantly, But disregards his Mind with Art to grace, Bestows his Pains and Care much like an a.s.s._

_Hi._ You han't bit your Nails for nothing.

_Eu._ Well, since my Turn is next, that I may do something,

_Qui studet ut variis niteat cultissimus hortus Deliciis, patiens animum squalere, nec ullis Artibus expoliens, huic est praepostera cura.

Who cares to have his Garden neat and rare.

And doth of Ornaments his Mind leave bare, Acts but with a preposterous Care._

We have no Need to spur _Sbrulius_ on, for he is so fluent at Verses, that he oftentimes tumbles 'em out, before he is aware.

Sb. _Cui vernat hortus cultus et elegans, Nee pectus uttis artibus excolit; Praepostera is mra laborat.

Sit ratio tibiprima mentis.

Who to make his Garden spring, much Care imparts, And yet neglects his Mind to grace with Arts, Acts wrong: Look chiefly to improve thy Parts._

Pa. _Quisquis accurat, variis ut hortus Floribus vernet, neque pectus idem Artibus sanctis colit, hunc habet praepostera cura.

Who to his Soul prefers a Flower or worse, May well be said to set the Cart before the Horse._

_Hi._ Now let us try to which of us the Garden will afford the most Sentences.

_Le._ How can so rich a Garden but do that? even this Rose-Bed will furnish me with what to say. _As the Beauty of a Rose is fading, so is Youth soon gone; you make haste to gather your Rose before it withers; you ought more earnestly to endeavour that your Youth pa.s.s not away without Fruit._

_Hi._ It is a Theme very fit for a Verse.

_Ca. As among Trees, every one hath its Fruits: So among Men, every one hath his natural Gift._

_Eu. As the Earth, if it be till'd, brings forth various Things for human Use; and being neglected, is covered with Thorns and Briars: So the Genius of a Man, if it be accomplish'd with honest Studies, yields a great many Virtues; but if it be neglected, is over-run with various Vices._

_Sb. A Garden ought to be drest every Year, that it may look handsome: The Mind being once furnish'd with good Learning, does always flourish and spring forth._

_Pa. As the Pleasantness of Gardens does not draw the Mind off from honest Studies, but rather invites it to them: So we ought to seek for such Recreations and Divertis.e.m.e.nts, as are not contrary to Learning._

_Hi._ O brave! I see a whole Swarm of Sentences. Now for Verse: But before we go upon that, I am of the Mind, it will be no improper nor unprofitable Exercise to turn the first Sentence into _Greek_ Verse, as often as we have turn'd it into _Latin._ And let _Leonard_ begin, that has been an old Acquaintance of the _Greek_ Poets.

_Le._ I'll begin if you bid me.

_Hi._ I both bid and command you.

_Le._ [Greek: Hoi kepos estin anthesin gelon kalois, Ho de nous mal auchmon tois kalois muthemasin, Ouk esti kompsos outos, ouk orthos phronei, Peri pleionos poion ta phaul, e kreittona].

He never entered Wisdom's Doors Who delights himself in simple Flowers, And his foul Soul neglects to cleanse.

This Man knows not what Virtue means.

I have begun, let him follow me that will.

_Hi. Carinus._

_Ca._ Nay, _Hilary._

_Le._ But I see here's _Margaret_ coming upon us of a sudden, she's bringing I know not what Dainties.

_Hi._ If she does so, my Fury'll do more than I thought she'd do. What hast brought us?

_Ma._ Mustard-Seed, to season your Sweet-Meats. An't you ashamed to stand prating here till I can't tell what Time of Night? And yet you Poets are always reflecting against Womens Talkativeness.

_Cr. Margaret_ says very right, it is high Time for every one to go Home to Bed: At another Time we'll spend a Day in this commendable Kind of Contest.

_Hi._ But who do you give the Prize to?

_Cr._ For this Time I allot it to myself. For no Body has overcome but I.

_Hi._ How did you overcome that did not contend at all.

_Cr._ Ye have contended, but not try'd it out. I have overcome _Marget_, and that is more than any of you could do.

_Ca. Hilary._ He demands what's his Right, let him have the Basket.