tune meos hostes hucusque exosus, et ultra sospes ego? exuerat vagina turbidus ensem aptabatque neci: comites tenuere, socerque castigat bellique vices ac fata revolvens.
Did you hate my enemies thus far, and do I live on? Wildly he drew his sword from its scabbard and made it ready for killing. His companions hold him back and his father-in-law rebukes him, comforting his bursting breast with recital of wars chances and of Fate.
final_alignments\Statius_Thebaid_Book9.json