Arria and Paetus, from Martial
When, from her breast, chaste Arria dragg'd the sword,
And, faintly, reach'd it her expecting lord;
My wound, said she, but wastes unvalu'd breath,
'Tis thine, dear Paetus , gives the sting to death.
And, faintly, reach'd it her expecting lord;
My wound, said she, but wastes unvalu'd breath,
'Tis thine, dear Paetus , gives the sting to death.
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