Pests of the Century, ye pernicious Poets.
An of my trifles peradventure chanceYou to be readers, and the hands of you Without a shudder unto us be offer'd
TO AURELIUS—HANDS OFF THE BOY!To thee I trust my loves and me,(Aurelius!) craving modesty.That (if in mind didst ever longTo win aught chaste unknowing wrong)Then guard my boy in purest way.