Stern was her front, her cloak[343] on ground did lie.
Her left hand held abroad a regal sceptre,
The Lydian buskin [in] fit paces kept her.
And first she[344] said, "When will thy love be spent,
O poet careless of thy argument?
Wine-bibbing banquets tell thy naughtiness,
Each cross-way's corner doth as much express.
Oft some points at the prophet passing by,
And, 'This is he whom fierce love burns,' they cry.20
A laughing-stock thou art to all the city;