To AURELIUS THE SKINFLINTAurelius, father of the famisht crew,Not sole of starvelings now, but wretches whoWere, are, or shall be in the years to come,My love, my dearling, fain art thou to strum.Nor privately; for nigh thou com'st and jestestAnd to his side close-sticking all things questest.'Tis vain: while lay'st thou snares for me the worst,By . . . . I will teach thee first.An food-full thus do thou, my peace I'd keep:But what (ah me ! ah me !) compels me weepAre thirst and famine to my dearling fated.Cease thou so doing while as modest rated,Lest to thy will thou win—but . . . .

To VARUS ABUSING SUFFENUSVarus, yon wight Suffenus known to theeFairly for wit, free talk, urbanity,The same who scribbles verse in amplest store—Methinks he fathers thousands ten or moreIndited not as wont on palimpsest,But paper-royal, brand-new boards, and best