No, he concluded, the great age of literature is past; the great age of literature was the Greek; the Elizabethan age was inferior in every respect to the Greek. In such ages men cherished a divine ambition which he might call La Gloire (he pronounced it Glawr, so that Orlando did not at first catch his meaning). Now all young writers were in the pay of the booksellers and poured out any trash that would sell. Shakespeare was the chief offender in this way and Shakespeare was already paying the penalty. Their own age, he said, was marked by precious conceits and wild experiments⁠—neither of which the Greeks would have tolerated for a moment. Much though it hurt him to say it⁠—for he loved literature as he loved his life⁠—he could see no good in the present and had no hope of the future. Here he poured himself out another glass of wine.