It's true! Me, Dorus, and Milton, with our forced fingers rude, will enjoy the simple, country pleasures of Ovid. Shakespeare will be late, but tip a rustic ale. You, Ezra, and whoever else can have your fancy feasts and enjoy the depths of Propertius. They'll be berets, and everyone will pretend that there's something authentic about the whole ordeal. It will be good wine, I think, and I'll miss out.
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