As was Postumia's law that rules the feastThan ebriate grape-stone more inebriate.But ye fare whither please ye (water-nymphs!)To wine pernicious, and to sober folkMigrate ye: mere Thyonian juice be here!
TO FRIENDS ON RETURN FROM TRAVELFollowers of Piso, empty bandWith your light budgets packt to hand,Veránius best! Fabúllus mine!What do ye? Bore ye enough, in fineOf frost and famine with yon sot?What loss or gain have haply gotYour tablets? so, whenas I rangedWith Praetor, gains for loss were changed."O Memmius! thou did'st long and late . . me supine slow and . . . "But (truly see I) in such caseDiddled you were by wight as baseSans mercy. Noble friends go claim!Now god and goddess give you grameDisgrace of Romulus! Remus' shame!