Page:Satires, Epistles, Art of Poetry of Horace - Coningsby (1874).djvu/65

 "No need to take you such a round: I go To visit an acquaintance you don't know: Poor man! he's ailing at his lodging, far Beyond the bridge, where Caesar's gardens are." "O, never mind: I've nothing else to do, And want a walk, so I'll step on with you."
 * Down go my ears, in donkey-fashion, straight;

You've seen them do it, when their load's too great. "If I mistake not," he begins, "you'll find Viscus not more, nor Varius, to your mind: There's not a man can turn a verse so soon, Or dance so nimbly when he hears a tune: While, as for singing—ah! my forte is there: Tigellius' self might envy me, I'll swear."
 * He paused for breath: I falteringly strike in:

"Have you a mother? have you kith or kin To whom your life is precious?" "Not a soul: My line's extinct: I have interred the whole." O happy they! (so into thought I fell) After life's endless babble they sleep well: My turn is next: dispatch me: for the weird Has come to pass which I so long have feared, The fatal weird a Sabine beldame sung, All in my nursery days, when life was young: "No sword nor poison e'er shall take him off, Nor gout, nor pleurisy, nor racking cough: A babbling tongue shall kill him: let him fly All talkers, as he wishes not to die."
 * We got to Vesta's temple, and the sun

Told us a quarter of the day was done.