Thy feeble soldier sues for peace.
Alas! I am not now that man of might,
As when fair Cynara bade me fight.
Leave, Venus, leave! consider my gray hairs
Snow'd on by fifty tedious years.
My forts are slighted, and my bulwarks down:
Go, and beleaguer some strong town.
Make thy attempts on Maximus; there's game
10To entertain thy sword and flame.
There Peace and Plenty dwell: He's of the Court,