To visit an acquaintance you don’t know.
Poor man, he’s ailing at his lodging, far
Beyond the bridge, where Cæsar’s gardens are.”
“Oh, never mind; I’ve nothing else to do,
And want a walk, so I’ll step on with you.”
Down go my ears in donkey-fashion, straight;
You’ve seen them do it, when their load’s too great.
“If I mistake not,” he begins, “you’ll find
Viscus not more, nor Varius, to your mind;
There’s not a man can turn a verse so soon,