Explore "In Charidemum" by Robert Louis Stevenson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
YOU, Charidemus, who my cradle swung, / And watched me all the days that I was young; / You, at whose step the laziest slaves awake, / And both the bailiff and the butler quake; / The barber's suds now blacken with my beard, / And my rough kisses make the maids afeared; / But with reproach your awful eyebrows twitch, / And for the cane, I see, your fingers itch.
If something daintily attired I go, / Straight you exclaim: "Your father did not so. " / And fuming, count the bottles on the board / As though my cellar were your private hoard.
Enough, at last: I have done all I can, / And your own mistress hails me for a man.