On the last edge to stay mine eyes the better.
What needs she tire[200] her hand to hold the quill?
Let this word "Come," alone the tables fill.
Then with triumphant laurel will I grace them
And in the midst of Venus' temple place them,
Subscribing, that to her I consecrate
My faithful tables, being vile maple late.
FOOTNOTES:
[197] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.
[198] Bound.