It shall contain a man, a woman, a child,
A dozen men and women if I will.
So far the gods and I run neck and neck,
Nay, so far I can beat them at their trade;
I am no bungler—all the men I make
Are straight limbed fellows, each magnificent
In the perfection of his manly grace;
I make no crook-backs; all my men are gods,
My women, goddesses, in outward form.
But there's my tether—I can go so far,