Book IV, Epigram 10: Ad Faustinum

Whiles that thy book is new and rough, and feares
To have its undryed page took by the ears,
Goe boy, present this small gift to my friend
He that deserves my toys at the first end:
Run, but yet let the sponge accompanie
The book, for it becomes each gift from mee.
Faustinus tis not many blots we say,
Can mend my merry flashes, one blot may.