For him who feels the passionate thirst of fame:
Battle of home-bred birds ... I name it not;
This it is thine to choose as gift from me;
Well-doing, well-entreated, and well-honoured,
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To share the land best loved of all the Gods.
Chor. That I should suffer this, fie on it! fie!
That I, with thoughts of hoar antiquity,
Should now in this land dwell,
Dishonoured, deemed a plague,