Page:Satires, Epistles, Art of Poetry of Horace - Coningsby (1874).djvu/169

Rh "The loaf's in cut; pray spare a slice for me." But if in peace the raven would have fed, He'd have had less of clawing, more of bread.
 * A poor companion whom his friend takes down

To fair Surrentum or Brundisium's town, If he makes much of cold, bad roads, and rain, Or moans o'er cash-box forced and money ta'en, Reminds us of a girl, some artful thing, Who cries for a lost bracelet or a ring, With this result, that when she comes to grieve For real misfortunes, no one will believe. So, hoaxed by one impostor, in the street A man won't set a cripple on his feet, Though he invoke Osiris, and appeal With streaming tears to hearts that will not feel, "Lift up a poor lame man! I tell no lie;" "Treat foreigners to that," the neighbours cry.



OU'D blush, good Lollius, if I judge you right, To mix the parts of friend and parasite. 'Twixt parasite and friend a gulf is placed, Wide as between the wanton and the chaste;