"So speaks a one who never flipped a coin," he counters, beaming as Cesare gets into the spirit, "Nor never runner sent, Nor into spirits poured the fresher juice, Nor graced his meat with fruit or root or leaf. Who is this man? I know he stands not here, For this is one of nice resource and wit Who knows to sequence and who knows to meld, Who splits his thoughts and occupies each hand. You're very welcome, ever! Have you met my cousin?" he asks, apropos of nothing, pouring himself a cup and sitting down. "He's newly arrived."