Carmina

What is it, Catullus, why delay your death? Nonius the tumor is seated in the curule chair, Vatinius lies his way to the consulship: what is it, Catullus, why delay your death?

I just had to laugh at someone in the crowded court who, when with admirable art my Calvus had set forth Vatinius' crimes, with hands uplifted in admiration thus spoke: "Great Gods, the fluent little Salaputian!"