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ON EGNATIUS OF THE WHITE TEETH.

Egnatius for that owns he teeth snow-white,
Grins ever, everywhere. When placed a wight
In dock, when pleader would draw tears, the while
He grins. When pious son at funeral pile
Mourns, or lone mother sobs for sole lost son, 5
He grins. Whate'er, whene'er, howe'er is done,
Of deed he grins. Such be his malady,
Nor kind, nor courteous--so beseemeth me--
Then take thou good Egnatius, rede of mine!
Wert thou corrupt Sabine or a Tiburtine, 10
Stuffed Umbrian or Tuscan overgrown
Swarthy Lanuvian with his teeth-rows shown,
Transpadan also, that mine own I touch,
Or any washing teeth to shine o'er much,
Yet thy incessant grin I would not see, 15
For naught than laughter silly sillier be.
Thou Celtiber art, in Celtiberia born,
Where man who's urined therewith loves a-morn
His teeth and ruddy gums to scour and score;
So the more polisht are your teeth, the more 20
Argue they sipping stale in ampler store.

Egnatius, who has milk-white teeth, grins for ever and aye. An he be in
court, when counsel excites tears, he grins. An he be at funeral pyre where
one mourns a son devoted, where a bereft mother's tears stream for her only
one, he grins. Whatever it may be, wherever he is, whate'er may happen, he
grins. Such ill habit has he--neither in good taste, well assumed, nor
refined. Wherefore do thou take note from me, my good Egnatius. Be thou
refined Sabine or Tiburtine, paunch-full Umbrian or obese Tuscan, Lanuvian
dusky and large-tusked, or Transpadine (to touch upon mine own folk also),
or whom thou wilt of those who cleanly wash their teeth, still I'd wish
thee not to grin for ever and aye; for than senseless giggling nothing is
more senseless.
Now thou'rt a Celtiberian! and in the Celtiberian land each
wight who has urined is wont each morn to scrub with it his teeth and pinky
gums, so that the higher the polish on thy teeth, the greater fund it notes
that thou hast drunk of urine.

XXXX.

Quaenam te mala mens, miselle Ravide,
Agit praecipitem in meos iambos?
Quis deus tibi non bene advocatus
Vecordem parat excitare rixam?
An ut pervenias in ora vulgi? 5
Quid vis? qua lubet esse notus optas?
Eris, quandoquidem meos amores
Cum longa voluisti amare poena.

XXXX.

THREATENING RAVIDUS WHO STOLE HIS MISTRESS.

What thought of folly Ravidus (poor churl! )
Upon my iambs thus would headlong hurl?
What good or cunning counsellor would fain
Urge thee to struggle in such strife insane?
Is't that the vulgar mouth thy name by rote? 5
What will'st thou?