Quod fellas; vitium dic mihi cuius habes? (But for your _fellation_: tell me whose vice you follow in this?) Still against the _cinaedus_ view the words _indignae fauces_ (unworthy throat) speak clearly. Probably in this connection the following passage of _Martial_ should also come in,—where the Poet says of his servant (Bk. I. Epigr. 102.): Destituit primos virides Demetrius annos: Quarta tribus lustris addita messis erat. Ne tamen ad Stygias famulus descenderet umbras, _Ureret implicitum cum scelerata lues_, Cavimus et domini ius omne remisimus aegro: Munere dignus erat convaluisse meo. Sensit deficiens sua praemia, meque patronum Dixit, ad infernas liber iturus aquas. (Demetrius left us in the first years of his bloom; the fourth summer was but just added to his three lustres. We took all means to save our faithful house-slave from descending to the shades of Styx, when he was consuming under a malignant contagion that had fastened upon him, and remitted all my master’s rights for the sick lad,—who indeed well deserved to win recovery at my hands. On his death-bed he recognized what I had done for him, and called me his _master_, though so soon to go forth a free man to the streams of the nether world.) Was this _famulus_ (house-slave) the same person as the _puer_ (boy, slave), who is mentioned by _Martial_, bk. XI. 95.? That not boys only, but girls too, had to suffer in this way among the Romans, and lost their lives from the complaint in question, is shown, we think, by the following Epigram of _Martial_, Bk. XI. Epigr. 91.: Aeolidon Canace iacet hoc tumulata sepulchro, Ultima cui parvae septima venit hiems. Ah scelus, ah facinus! properas quid flere viator? Non licet hic vitae de brevitate queri. _Tristius est leto leti genus: horrida vultus Abstulit et tenero sedit in ore lues: Ipsaque crudeles ederunt oscula morbi; Nec data sunt nigris tota labella rogis._ Si tam praecipiti fuerant ventura volatu, Debuerant alia fata venire via. (Canacé of the Aeolians lies buried in this tomb, who died a child,—her seventh winter was her last. Oh! the shame and horror of it! haste, a tear, thou that passest by. Here is no occasion to lament the short span of human life. Sadder than death is the way of her death; a dread contagion ate away her face, and settled in the tender little mouth. Cruel disease infected her very kisses; and her lips were half gone when they were consigned to the grim pyre. If death must needs have come to her with a flight so swift, at least he should have taken another way. Death so hasted to close the issue of her persuasive voice, that her tongue might not have time to bend the cruel goddesses to mercy).