Love’s Labor’s Lost, [4.2.118-128]. Holofernes. “You find not the apostraphas, and so miss the accent. Let me supervise the canzonet. [Takes the letter]. Here are only numbers ratified; but, for the elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poesy, caret. Ovidius Naso was the man. And why, indeed, ‘Naso,’ but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention? Imitari is nothing. So doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired horse his rider. But, damosella virgin, was this directed to you?”


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