Fulvia

Welcome, ye shades of summer eve, that close
My day among the tongues of yonder town!
I would not pluck them out nor pin them down,
As vengeful Fulvia did with Cicero's —
Nor to mere petulance of speech assign
The cruel meed of his rare excellence —
Enough for me this stillness, and the sense
That they no longer vex these ears of mine;
I will not vent my rage on foolish lungs,
Nor, even in fancy, re-enact the deed
Wreak'd on the Roman, in the stress and need
Of a great anger; why should ribald songs
Scourge like impeaching eloquence? or why
Should either tax our needles for reply?