hieron

The last-mentioned theorem naturally connects itself with the story of the crown made for Hieron.

Poor Hieron Is now the sweating agent of your will To see these callets dance.

Then Hieron May bear confirming word to him, and bring Assurance back.

Be mine this broken hour, And Hieron may flute through after-time At secret doors where you lock up your favors.

And the worst of all is, that where flattery reigneth, it is taken for a duty, and the neglect of it for a vice: as Hieron.