Nay, I'm sorrowful. You to slight my passion?
Ah! one word, but a tiny word to cheer me,
Sad as ever a tear Simonidean.
XXXIX.
1.
Egnatius, spruce owner of superb white teeth,
Smiles sweetly, smiles for ever: is the bench in view
Where stands a pleader just prepar'd to rouse our tears,
Egnatius smiles sweetly; near the pyre they mourn
5 Where weeps a mother o'er the lost, the kind one son,
Egnatius smiles sweetly; what the time or place
Or thing soe'er, smiles sweetly; such a rare complaint
Is his, not handsome, scarce to please the town, say I.
2.
So take a warning for the nonce, my friend; town-bred
10 Were you, a Sabine hale, a pearly Tiburtine,
A frugal Umbrian body, Tuscan huge of paunch,
A grim Lanuvian black of hue, prodigious-tooth'd,
A Transpadane, my country not to pass untax'd,
In short whoever cleanly cares to rinse foul teeth,
15 Yet sweetly smiling ever I would have you not,
For silly laughter, it's a silly thing indeed.