5 But be'st a Sabine, be'st a very Tiburtine,
At thy suburban villa what delight I knew
To spit the tiresome cough away, my lungs' ill guest,
My belly brought me, not without a sad weak sin,
Because a costly dinner I desir'd too much.
10 For I, to feast with Sestius, that host unmatch'd,
A speech of his, pure poison, every line deep-drugg'd,
His speech against the plaintiff Antius, read through.
Whereat a cold chill, soon a gusty cough in fits,
Shook, shook me ever, till to thy retreat I fled,
15 There duly dosed with nettle and repose found cure.
So, now recruited, thanks superlative, dear farm,
I give thee, who so lightly didst avenge that sin.
And trust me, farm, if ever I again take up
With Sextius' black charges, I'll rebel no more;
20 But let the chill things damn to cold, to cough, not me
That read the volume—no, but him, the man's vain self.
XLV.
1.
While Septimius in his arms his Acme
Fondled closely, 'My own,' said he, 'my Acme,
If I love not as unto death, nor hold me
Ever faithfully well-prepar'd to largest
5 Strain of fiery wooer yet to love thee,
Then in Libya, then may I alone in
Burning India face a sulky lion.'
Scarce he ended, upon the right did eager
Love sneeze amity; 'twas before to leftward.