Page:Satires, Epistles, Art of Poetry of Horace - Coningsby (1874).djvu/116

 Half dead, they scurry round the room, poor things, While the whole house with barking mastiffs rings. Then says the rustic: "It may do for you, This life, but I don't like it; so adieu: Give me my hole, secure from all alarms, I'll prove that tares and vetches still have charms."



'VE listened long, and fain a word would say, But, as a slave, I dare not.
 * H. Davus, eh?
 * D. Yes, Davus, true and faithful, good enough,

But not too good to be of lasting stuff.
 * H. Well, take December's licence: I'll not balk

Our fathers' good intentions: have your talk.
 * D. Some men there are take pleasure in what's ill

Persistently, and do it with a will: The greater part keep wavering to and fro, And now all right, and now all wrong they go.