Yesterday, Licinius, in leisure much we played upon my tablets, as became us, men of fancy. Each jotting verses in turn played first in this meter then in that, exchanging mutual epigrams amid jokes and wine. But I departed from there, afire, Licinius, with your wit and charm, so that food was useless to my wretched self; nor could sleep close my eyes in quiet, but all over the bed in restless fury did I toss, longing to behold daylight that I might speak with you, and again we might be together. But afterwards, when my limbs, weakened by my restless labours, lay stretched in semi-death upon the bed, I made this poem for you, my delight, from which you will perceive my pain. Now beware of presumptuousness, and beware of rejecting our pleadings, I pray you, apple of my eye, lest Nemesis exact her dues from you. She is a forceful Goddess; beware her wrath.

He seems to me to be equal to a god, he, if such were lawful, to surpass the gods, who sitting across from you again and again gazes on you, and listens to you sweetly laughing, which snatches away from sombre me my every sense: for the instant I glance on you, Lesbia, nothing is left to me [of voice], but my tongue is numbed, a keen-edged flame spreads through my limbs, with sound self-caused my twin ears sing, and my eyes are enwrapped with night. Leisure, Catullus, to you is hurtful: in leisure beyond measure do you exult and pass your life. Leisure first ruined rulers and prosperous cities.

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!"