LIV.

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.