Of fools, "Does this evince thy Master men so vaunt?
Did he then perpetrate the plain abortion here?"—
Who cries, "His work am I! full fraught by him, I clear
His fame from each result of accident and time,
Myself restore his work to its fresh morning-prime,
Not daring touch the mass of marble, fools deride,
But putting my idea in plaster by its side,
His, since mine; I, he made, vindicate who made me!"
LVII
For you must know, I too achieved Eidotheé,