Otho's head is a very dwarf; a rustic's
Shanks has Herius, only semi-cleanly;
Libo's airs to a fume of art refine them.
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . 5
_Yet thou flee'st not above my keen iambics_.
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
[_So may destiny doom me quite to silence_]
As I care not if every line offend thee 10
And Sufficius, age in youth's revival.
. . . . . . . .
Thou shalt kindle at innocent iambics,
Mighty general, once again returning.