Page:Satires, Epistles, Art of Poetry of Horace - Coningsby (1874).djvu/73



OME think in satire I'm too keen, and press The spirit of invective to excess: Some call my verses nerveless: once begin, A thousand such per day a man might spin. Trebatius, pray advise me. T.Wipe your pen. H. What, never write a single line again? T. That's what I mean. H.'Twould suit me, I protest, Exactly: but at nights I get no rest. T. First rub yourself three times with oil all o'er, Then swim the Tiber through from shore to shore,