Make ends meet

Caesar shall fly! Fly? Though in adverse war

Our best had fallen, and the savage Gaul

Were hard upon our track, we would not fly.

And now, when fortune smiles and kindly gods

Beckon us on to glory! -- Let him come

Fresh from his years of peace, with all his crowd

Of conscript burgesses, Marcellus' tongue (12)

And Cato's empty name! We will not fly.