Before you start your recitation, You say your throat is sore: Dear sir, we hear your explanation, We don't want any more! ANSWER TO A POETASTER Pompilianus asks why I omit To send him all the poetry that is mine; The reason is that in return for it, Pompilianus, thou might'st send me _thine_. ON A PLAGIARIST Paul buys up poems, and to your surprise, Paul then recites them as his own: And Paul is right; for what a person buys Is his, as can by law be shown! A LOVER OF OLD-FASHIONED POETRY Vacerra likes no bards but those of old-- Only the poets dead are poets true! Really, Vacerra--may I make so bold?-- It's not worth dying to be liked by _you_. A GOOD RIDDANCE Linus, you mock my distant farm, And ask what good it is to me? Well, it has got at least one charm-- When there, from Linus I am free! HOW A WET SEASON HELPS THE ADULTERATION OF WINE Not everywhere the vintage yield has failed, Dear Ovid; copious rain has much availed. Coranus has a hundred gallons good For sale--_well watered_, be it understood. THE SYSTEMATIC DINER-OUT Philo declares he never dines at home, And that is no exaggeration: He has no place to dine in Rome, If he can't hook an invitation. THE LEGACY-HUNTER CONSIDERS A MARRIAGE _de Convenance_ Paula would like to marry me; But I have no desire to get her. Paula is old; if only she Were nearer dead, I'd like it better! WIDOWER AND WIDOW Fabius buries all his wives: Chrestilla ends her husbands' lives. The torch which from the marriage-bed They brandish soon attends the dead. O Venus, link this conquering pair! Their match will meet with issue fair, Whereby for such a dangerous _two_ A single funeral will do! THE IMPORTUNATE BEGGAR 'Tis best to grant me, Cinna, what I crave; And next best, Cinna, is refusal straight. Givers I like: refusal I can brave; But you don't give--you only hesitate! TO A FRIEND OVER-CAUTIOUS IN LENDING A loan without security You say you have not got for me; But if I pledge my bit of land, You have the money close at hand. Thus, though you cannot trust your friend, To cabbages and trees you lend. Now _you_ have to be tried in court-- Get from my bit of land support! Exiled, you'd like a comrade true-- Well, take my land abroad with you! AN OLD DANDY You wish, Lætinus, to be thought a youth, And so you dye your hair. You're suddenly a crow, forsooth: Of late a swan you were! You can't cheat all: there is a Lady dread Who knows your hair is grey: Proserpina will pounce upon your head, And tear the mask away. PATIENT AND DOCTOR