Page:Satires, Epistles, Art of Poetry of Horace - Coningsby (1874).djvu/171

 Perhaps a worse offender, hates and dreads, Or says to him what tender parents say, Who'd have their children better men than they: "Don't vie with me," he says, and he says true; "My wealth will bear the silly things I do; Yours is a slender pittance at the best; A wise man cuts his coat—you know the rest." Eutrapelus, whene'er a grudge he owed To any, gave him garments a la mode; Because, said he, the wretch will feel inspired With new conceptions when he's new attired; He'll sleep through half the day, let business go For pleasure, teach a usurer's cash to grow; At last he'll turn a fencer, or will trudge Beside a cart, a market-gardener's drudge.
 * Avoid all prying; what you're told, keep back,

Though wine or anger put you on the rack; Nor puff your own, nor slight your friend's pursuits, Nor court the Muses when he'd chase the brutes. 'Twas thus the Theban brethren jarred, until The harp that vexed the stern one became still. Amphion humoured his stern brother: well, Your friend speaks gently; do not you rebel: No; when he gives the summons, and prepares To take the field with hounds, and darts, and snares, Leave your dull Muse to sulkiness and sloth, That both may feast on dainties earned by both. 'Tis a true Roman pastime, and your frame Will gain thereby, no less than your good name: Besides, you're strong; in running you can match