"Thou hast bewitched him well," to Shimei Turning, the chiliarch said; then, with cold eye Regarding and repelling him, exclaimed "Hoar head, thou lookest every inch a rogue!"
Shimei had marked with a considering mind The chiliarch's manner with the sentinel; In dilatory parry, he replied: "Not what we look, but what we are, we are."
"But what we are, conforms at length our looks," Surprised, amused, in doubt, but dallying, matched The Roman his rejoinder. Then the Jew, Adventuring on one more avoidance, said: "Well dost thou say 'at length'; for it might chance That looks were obstinate, requiring time."
"Coiner of wisdom into apothegm! An undiscovered Seneca in sooth, Where least expected, seems I meet to-night! But spare to bandy sentences with me." With change to chilling dignity from sneer, The Roman so rebuffed the cringing Jew; Who, cringing, yet was no least whit abashed, But answered: "Pardon, sir, thy servant, who Has missed his mark in his simplicity. I thought, 'If I might spare my lord his time!' And dutifully thereto spared my words. The farthest was it from my humble aim To mint my silly thought in adages. Forgive me, if, unconsciously set on By thy example of sententious speech-- True wisdom closed in fitting words and few-- I seemed to match my worthless wit with thine. I have a helpless habit of the mind, A trick of mimicry that masters me; When I observe in them what I admire, I can not but my betters imitate. I fear me I have compromised my cause; Had I been deeper, I had less seemed deep! I lack the art to show the artless man That in my own true self, sir, thou shouldst see. With my superiors, I am not myself; I take on airs, or seem to, copying them. Quite other am I with my proper like; I feel at home, and am the man I am. Ask that plain-spoken, honest sentinel-- He now was my own sort, I never thought To strain myself above my natural mark With him; we were hail fellows, he and I, And talked the harmless wise that such know how. With thee--oh, sir, myself I quite forsook, And slipped into a different Shimei. Pity my weakness, I am sick of it; To ape the great is folly for the small-- But small may hope forgiveness from the great!"
The chiliarch listened, unconvinced; yet charmed, Like the bird gazing by the serpent charmed. "Pretend that I am of thy kind," said he, "And show me how thou with the sentry talkedst."