You see now, Statilius, the wisdom of my rule to permit no freedman in my household: all my servants are my own property. You will buy me the best cook in Rome in three hours. What, sir? You are a free man, and I employed you only to work at my pedigree and my library? True: I am satisfied with you. But understand that if I bid you litter my horses you will do it, or I sell you up tomorrow. Now, sir, the best cook in Rome is Iulus Antonius’s Dama: buy him. Antonius is a rich man? Very true, but I think we need not be afraid of that. We can tempt him, I imagine, Statilius. At any price whatever: do you understand? And not a penny more than he will sell at: understand that also. If he is stubborn, hint at my influence with the Prince; that will be sufficient. Go. Iulus knows that he is whispered against, and he looks to me to prop him up. I shall not do so. Again and again I have urged on Octavian the necessity of putting these malcontents out of the way. His father’s son cannot but be a danger to a settled State, however soundly disposed himself. It appears to me that Octavian is losing his aptitude for politics, and Agrippa exercises the worst possible influence upon him. This stupid, expensive system of banishment: it should never have had my voice had I remained in politics. Thucydides, I have told you once already I am not to be disturbed in meditation. The poet Horace is in attendance? Horatius, I think you mean; avoid these vulgarisms, Thucydides. Bid Horatius wait. Indeed, I doubt not whether Octavian had at any time any real grasp of the principles of government. I was deceived by the facility with which he lent himself to my views. He is a man incapable of understanding any system between militarism and license. Of the finer arts of statecraft I am afraid he knows very little. How often have I explained to that man how the law of treason might be developed into an infallible engine of sound government! Yes: I was wise to leave politics, though Octavian is ungrateful to his Mentor. Well, I will see Horatius. He, at least, with all his faults, is a faithful soul. A man I have made. Good-day, Horatius. I hope you are well and keeping sober. Have you brought the work I commissioned? Very well; let me see it. There has been a very great improvement in your manner of writing, Horatius, since I took you up: the large P’s are very much bolder than they were. But what is this? This is not the Epistle Dedicatory I ordered. That comes second? Ah! yes, here it is; you should have given it to me first. Maecenas, born of grandsire kings— Quite right: “grandsire kings” is very good. It is not, of course, literally correct, but one may, in poetry, fairly write the particular term “grandsire” for the general “ancestor”— O my defense and proud delight!