Oft with a studious heart, which hunted closely, requiring
Sk** great Battiades' poesies haply to send,
Laying thus thy rage in rest, lest everlasting
Darts should reach me, to wound still an a**ailable head:
Barren now I see that labour of any requital,
Gellius; here all prayers fall to the ground, nor avail.
No; but a robe I carry, the barbs, thy folly, to muffle;
Mine strike sure; thy deep injury they shall atone.