What ill-set mind, poor little Ravidus, thrusts you headlong at my iambics? What
god, none advocate of good for you, stirs you to a senseless quarrel? That you
may be in the people's mouth? What do you want? Do you want to be famous, no
matter in what way? You will be, but by our long-drawn vengeance, since you
wanted to love my lover.
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