Classic Poem

With jealousy he's like to burst —
What have I done to rouse him so —
Until he cracks with rage accurst?
Rome reads my books — that is the worst
Of all offence to him — and lo!
With jealousy he's like to burst;
But other grudges he has nursed,
I'm pointed out in street and show
Until he cracks with rage accurst
Because the grant is not reversed
That Titus gave me long ago.
With jealousy he's like to burst,
Not yet my crimes are all rehearsed;
My house and farm annoy my foe
Until he cracks with rage accurst;
He'd ban my friendships if he durst;
My dinners give him bitter woe;
With jealousy he's like to burst.
Men love me, spite has not aspersed
My fame — that makes his gall to flow
Until he cracks with rage accurst;
He's near to bursting — let him burst!