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May you grow old together, and never another Embrace you but he, you unnatural mother. The pigeon stewed in sauces rare — And we, the hungry company, Had nothing left to do but stare! That bulging cloth, a dripping pack, Your slave bore off. So if thou trust thy glass and me, Put thoughts of laughter out of mind ; The merry mood is not for thee, Nor for the fops a blustering wind. These shun the jostling of their kind, The beldame with her powdered grace Fears rain and is not glad to find Bright sunshine on her painted face.

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For you huge mullets lie in golden dish : 1 from red earthen plates eat red crawfish. A troop of pages serve your every need : I help myself and have no Ganymede. Were I to ask, refusing me Would wound your generosity ; It needs must be a harder task Refusing what I do not ask. And yet — O shame — you look with careless eye Upon your friend who passes shivering by In threadbare coat, and do not think to give A rag or two to keep him just alive.

Confidis natibus? Non est pedico maritus : Ouae faciat duo sunt : irrumat aut futuit. Ah, friend, if you would give me these, Though in a small provincial home, Td leave you all the luxuries Of Rome. Oua tibi parte opus est, Lesbia, sumis aquam. Infelix uenter spectat conuiuia culi Et semper miser hie esurit, ille uorat. But such a charge of rankest falsehood savours ; She rather is too generous with her favours.

The costliest of clothes he loves to wear, And after him there comes a motley throng Of clients spruce and slaves with curly hair. His chair is gay and decked with curtains fair; Say you the smartest dandy in the town? Just now to buy a meal of plainest fare He pawned his only ring for half-a-crown. Forget not death.

Well, are they quite legal, your goings-on, pray? LXI Cum tibi uernarent dubia lanugine malae, Lambebat medios improba lingua viros. Postquam triste caput fastidia uispillonum Et miseri meruit taedia carnificis, Uteris ore aliter nimiaque aerugine captus Adlatras nomen quod tibi cumque datur.

Haereat inguinibus potius tarn noxia lingua : Nam cum fellaret, purior ilia fuit. LXII Quod pectus, quod crura tibi, quod bracchia uellis, Quod cincta est breuibus mentula tonsa pilis, Hoc praestas, Labiene, tuae quis nescit?

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Cui praestas, culum quod, Labiene, pilas? And all her money now is yours to spend! I am indeed distressed, my worthy friend. A razor is what you require To make you like your mirror.

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Why should they your caprice obey, And to your fancies pander. Cut all those cruel locks away. Or touch a salamander.

The man whose mean desires accord With all that masters crave Must cringe ; but he shall need no lord Who doth not need a slave. The famous epicures of Rome Were always pleased to dine from home. Why, if it bores you, should you go? Causa quae, nisi haec est, Undis ne fouearis irrumatis? Primus te licet abluas : necesse est Ante hie mentula quam caput lauetur. Pm informed you received such a tempest of knocks As the pantaloon gets when they play Box and Cox.

Two boys belonging to the youthful band, Who with their rakes smooth out the bloody sand, The savage beast with fangs accursed slew— A greater crime the circus never knew. Learn from our Roman wolf young lives to spare.

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Your critic eyes perhaps despise Colossus as too tall? Tis plain indeed you never read Marsus or Pedo sage ; One piece of each will often reach Beyond a single page. A word remove and I will prove You do my poem wrong. Your couplets are too long by far — That is two lines too long. And, as to-day I eat at home, Your invitation I decline.

But your vengeance remains incomplete it appears ; He has still got another part left. I want a summer suit : that is the reason. What if one bade a runner try contortions acrobatic? Ask Ladas this, and his reply methinks will be emphatic. Such tricks let dull Palaemon do, his dullards entertaining, And let me please the chosen few whose ear is worth the gaining.

Well, for that many thanks : we will gladly forgo it. And though with your verses the Muses you sully, I praise them ; for here you take pattern by Tully.


And this the generous guerdon of success. The boon that one alone can give By his divine prerogative Must not be made in vain. Should you prefer the former book, Yet I will not repine ; Such preference I lightly brook Since both of them are mine. Tis fit indeed that verse from Rome Should be the best of all. For e'en a house-slave born at home Is better than a Gaul.

Choose thee a patron soon, or, I foresee, Snatched to a gloomy kitchen in a trice Thou shalt wrap dripping fish or pungent spice ; Thy clammy end the scullion shall decree ; Sayst thou that to Faustinus thou wouldst flee? A happy choice — from ills shalt thou be free Safe in his cedar-scented paradise, My little book, For bindings rich no niggard hand hath he, But thou shalt dwell a tome of high degree With bosses decked and many a gay device In purple rare or scarlet dyes of price. And critics shall not dare to mangle thee, My little book.

So, bidden by the water-nymphs, I pray, Bathe fully dressed or cast your veil away. Would you have me commend you to many or one? He lives by the Closed Colonnade, in the flat Which Daphnis some years ago used to live at. On him hath Fortune never frowned — To-day his life began In happiness that now is crowned — His son becomes a man. Poor starvelings, what a blow to you! Had I said Thais, Whereas your lady-love was Lais, You might complain of that ; beside You swear your love is not one-eyed!

Methinks a curious sort of treat. Perhaps you thought your guests had died And came there to be mummified! A meal of nothing gives no indigestion. My praise is just. If you go on as you begin You soon must be a worthless Tanner. We accept your excuse : but pray read us no more. Young Hylas in its jaw Thrust his fair hand to try the gaping maw. But lo, a viper grim was lurking there, Alert and far more deadly than the bear.

The boy knew nothing till he felt the sting. Shame that the bear was not a living thing! Perchance some bathhouse sees him take a dipper, Titus or Tigellinus or Agrippa ; Or else he sits and walks quite free from care Amid the box-trees where Europa fair Enjoys the sun ; or in some snug retreat He and Lucanus and friend Tullus meet. He smiles. That to you was starvation ; so into your cup You poured deadly poison and drank the lot up. You were always a gourmet, of that I am sure ; But by death you were proved the complete epicure.

A Tuscan priest prepared the rogue to slay And bade a rustic who had come that way With sickle sharp to geld the unclean beast, Lest the rank odour should offend the feast. But as he leaned, a hernia came to view, And the dull rustic without more ado Cut off the titbit, thinking, I suppose, The gods were honoured by such meats as those. Bring Sabineius there ; a speech of his Once froze the baths of Nero through and through. Your Massic and Opimian rare For others are too exquisite, And no man is allowed to share The products of your learned wit. And somehow you succeed. Is this my reward For thirty long years of attentive regard?

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Some idle hope of fortune or renown? So Civis thought and Atestinus too, — You know them — but their rent is overdue. The man is mad ; our Virgils you may meet And threadbare Ovids, cowering in the street. I mean to live here — -tell me how I can.