No More Learning

Fool it passeth thee
How 'tis a sordid deed, a sorry jest. 5
Dost misbelieve me? Trust to Pollio,
Thy brother, ready to compound such thefts
E'en at a talent's cost; for he's a youth
In speech past master and in fair pleasantries.
Of hendecasyllabics hundreds three 10
Therefore expect thou, or return forthright
Linens whose loss affects me not for worth
But as mementoes of a comrade mine.
For napkins Saetaban from Ebro-land
Fabullus sent me a free-giftie given 15
Also Veranius: these perforce I love
E'en as my Veraniolus and Fabullus.

Marrucinius Asinius, thou dost use thy left hand in no fair fashion 'midst
the jests and wine: thou dost filch away the napkins of the heedless. Dost
thou think this a joke? it flies thee, stupid fool, how coarse a thing and
unbecoming 'tis! Dost not credit me? credit thy brother Pollio who would
willingly give a talent to divert thee from thy thefts: for he is a lad
skilled in pleasantries and facetiousness. Wherefore, either expect
hendecasyllables three hundred, or return me my napkin which I esteem, not
for its value but as a pledge of remembrance from my comrade. For Fabullus
and Veranius sent me as a gift handkerchiefs from Iberian Saetabis; these
must I prize e'en as I do Veraniolus and Fabullus.

XIII.

Cenabis bene, mi Fabulle, apud me
Paucis, si tibi di favent, diebus,
Si tecum attuleris bonam atque magnam
Cenam, non sine candida puella
Et vino et sale et omnibus cachinnis. 5
Haec si, inquam, attuleris, venuste noster,
Cenabis bene: nam tui Catulli
Plenus sacculus est aranearum.
Sed contra accipies meros amores
Seu quid suavius elegantiusvest: 10
Nam unguentum dabo, quod meae puellae
Donarunt Veneres Cupidinesque,
Quod tu cum olfacies, deos rogabis,
Totum ut te faciant, Fabulle, nasum.

XIII.

FABULLUS IS INVITED TO A POET'S SUPPER.

Thou'lt sup right well with me, Fabullus mine,
In days few-numbered an the Gods design,
An great and goodly meal thou bring wi' thee
Nowise forgetting damsel bright o' blee,
With wine, and salty wit and laughs all-gay. 5
An these my bonny man, thou bring, I say
Thou'lt sup right well, for thy Catullus' purse
Save web of spider nothing does imburse.
But thou in countergift mere loves shalt take
Or aught of sweeter taste or fairer make: 10
I'll give thee unguent lent my girl to scent
By every Venus and all Cupids sent,
Which, as thou savour, pray Gods interpose
And thee, Fabullus, make a Naught-but-nose.

Thou shalt feast well with me, my Fabullus, in a few days, if the gods
favour thee, provided thou dost bear hither with thee a good and great
feast, not forgetting a fair damsel and wine and wit and all kinds of
laughter. Provided, I say, thou dost bear hither these, our charming one,
thou wilt feast well: for thy Catullus' purse is brimful of cobwebs. But in
return thou may'st receive a perfect love, or whatever is sweeter or more
elegant: for I will give thee an unguent which the Loves and Cupids gave
unto my girl, which when thou dost smell it, thou wilt entreat the gods to
make thee, O Fabullus, one total Nose!

XIIII.

Ni te plus oculis meis amarem,
Iocundissime Calve, munere isto
Odissem te odio Vatiniano:
Nam quid feci ego quidve sum locutus,
Cur me tot male perderes poetis? 5
Isti di mala multa dent clienti,
Qui tantum tibi misit inpiorum.
Quod si, ut suspicor, hoc novum ac repertum
Munus dat tibi Sulla litterator,
Non est mi male, sed bene ac beate, 10
Quod non dispereunt tui labores.
Di magni, horribilem et sacrum libellum
Quem tu scilicet ad tuum Catullum
Misti, continuo ut die periret,
Saturnalibus, optimo dierum! 15
Non non hoc tibi, salse, sic abibit:
Nam, si luxerit, ad librariorum
Curram scrinia, Caesios, Aquinos,
Suffenum, omnia colligam venena,
Ac te his suppliciis remunerabor. 20
Vos hinc interea (valete) abite
Illuc, unde malum pedem attulistis,
Saecli incommoda, pessimi poetae.