"Bon-Bon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Poe Edgar Allan)

third bottle of Chambertin.)
"Then- hic-cup!- pray, sir- what- what is it?"
"That is neither here nor there, Monsieur Bon-Bon," replied his
Majesty, musingly. "I have tasted- that is to say, I have known some
very bad souls, and some too- pretty good ones." Here he smacked his
lips, and, having unconsciously let fall his hand upon the volume in
his pocket, was seized with a violent fit of sneezing.
He continued.
"There was the soul of Cratinus- passable: Aristophanes- racy:
Plato- exquisite- not your Plato, but Plato the comic poet; your Plato
would have turned the stomach of Cerberus- faugh! Then let me see!
there were Naevius, and Andronicus, and Plautus, and Terentius. Then
there were Lucilius, and Catullus, and Naso, and Quintus Flaccus,-
dear Quinty! as I called him when he sung a seculare for my amusement,
while I toasted him, in pure good humor, on a fork. But they want
flavor, these Romans. One fat Greek is worth a dozen of them, and
besides will keep, which cannot be said of a Quirite.- Let us taste
your Sauterne."
Bon-Bon had by this time made up his mind to nil admirari and
endeavored to hand down the bottles in question. He was, however,
conscious of a strange sound in the room like the wagging of a tail.
Of this, although extremely indecent in his Majesty, the philosopher
took no notice:- simply kicking the dog, and requesting him to be
quiet. The visiter continued:
"I found that Horace tasted very much like Aristotle;- you know I
am fond of variety. Terentius I could not have told from Menander.
Naso, to my astonishment, was Nicander in disguise. Virgilius had a
strong twang of Theocritus. Martial put me much in mind of
Archilochus- and Titus Livius was positively Polybius and none other."
"Hic-cup!" here replied Bon-Bon, and his majesty proceeded:
"But if I have a penchant, Monsieur Bon-Bon- if I have a penchant,
it is for a philosopher. Yet, let me tell you, sir, it is not every
dev- I mean it is not every gentleman who knows how to choose a
philosopher. Long ones are not good; and the best, if not carefully
shelled, are apt to be a little rancid on account of the gall!"
"Shelled!"
"I mean taken out of the carcass."
"What do you think of a- hic-cup!- physician?"
"Don't mention them!- ugh! ugh! ugh!" (Here his Majesty retched
violently.) "I never tasted but one- that rascal Hippocrates!- smelt
of asafoetida- ugh! ugh! ugh!- caught a wretched cold washing him in
the Styx- and after all he gave me the cholera morbus."
"The- hiccup- wretch!" ejaculated Bon-Bon, "the- hic-cup!-
absorption of a pill-box!"- and the philosopher dropped a tear.
"After all," continued the visiter, "after all, if a dev- if a
gentleman wishes to live, he must have more talents than one or two;
and with us a fat face is an evidence of diplomacy."
"How so?"
"Why, we are sometimes exceedingly pushed for provisions. You must
know that, in a climate so sultry as mine, it is frequently impossible