Not she whose cognomen is Ilia the Roman
Was happier than I.

HORACE

Ah, Chloe the Thracian--whose sweet modulation
Of voice as she lilts to the lyre
Is sweeter and fairer? Would but the Fates spare her
I'd love to expire.

LYDIA

Tush! Calais claims me and wholly inflames me,
He pesters me never with rhymes;
If they should spare Cally, I'd perish to_tal_ly
A couple of times.

HORACE

Suppose my affection in Lyddy's direction
Returned; that I gave the good-by
To Chloe the golden, and back to the olden?--
I pause for reply.

LYDIA

Cheer up, mine ensnarer! Be Calais fairer
Than stars, be you blustery and base,
I'll love you, adore you; in brief, I am for you
All over the place.