What the devil’s the matter with me? I don’t stand right on my legs. Coming afoul of that old man has a sort of turned me wrong side out.

How many pipes, as many sounds Do still impart To your Sonne's hart / As many deadly wounds : How many strokes, as many stounds, Each stroke a dart, Each stound a smart, Poore captive me confounds.

This example turns out to be an instance of the misarrangement of the verses rather than of epiploce: and the same may be said of every case in which a syllable must be transferred from the end of one verse to the beginning of another. But there are many reasons to conclude that the Ancients did not divide words between verses as the Moderns do, and that it was this which gave rise to the epiploce of adjectione per syllabas, which Mar. Victorinus learned from some ancient grammarian, who had more rhythmical knowledge than reached the times of the former.

It is related in the same archives of cosmogony that the King of the Goats is a White Goat, who carries his head in a melancholy and cogitabund position, regarding the ground,— …