And shakes the wings and will not stay,
I puff the prostitute away.
Imitation of Horace. Book iii. Ode 29, Line 81.
And virtue, though in rags, will keep me warm.
Imitation of Horace. Book iii. Ode 29, Line 87.
Arms and the man I sing, who, forced by fate
And haughty Juno's unrelenting hate.
Virgil, Æneid, Line 1.
And new-laid eggs, which Baucis' busy care
Turn'd by a gentle fire and roasted rare.[274:1]