Quem tu, quod minimum facillimumquest,
Qua solatus es adlocutione?
Qua solatus es adlocutione?
Catullus - Carmina
5
Is't when like boobies sit ye incontinent here,
One or two hundred, deem ye that I fear
Two hundred ---- at one brunt?
Ay, think so, natheless all your tavern-front
With many a scorpion I will over-write. 10
For that my damsel, fro' my breast took flight,
By me so loved, as shall loved be none,
Wherefor so mighty wars were waged and won,
Does sit in public here. Ye fain, rich wights,
All woo her: thither too (the chief of slights! ) 15
All pitiful knaves and by-street wenchers fare,
And thou, (than any worse), with hanging hair,
In coney-breeding Celtiberia bred,
Egnatius! bonnified by beard full-fed,
And teeth with Spanish urine polished. 20
Tavern of lust and you its tippling crowd, (at ninth pile sign-post from
the Cap-donned Brothers) think ye that ye alone have mentules, that 'tis
allowed to you alone to touzle whatever may be feminine, and to deem all
other men mere goats? But, because ye sit, a row of fools numbering one
hundred or haply two hundred, do ye think I dare not irrumate your entire
two hundred--loungers! --at once! Think it! but I'll scrawl all over the
front of your tavern with scorpion-words. For my girl, who has fled from my
embrace (she whom I loved as ne'er a maid shall be beloved--for whom I
fought fierce fights) has seated herself here. All ye, both honest men and
rich, and also, (O cursed shame) all ye paltry back-slum fornicators, are
making hot love to her; and thou above all, one of the hairy-visaged sons
of coney-caverned Celtiberia, Egnatius, whose quality is stamped by
dense-grown beard, and teeth with Spanish urine scrubbed.
XXXVIII.
Malest, Cornifici, tuo Catullo,
Malest, me hercule, et est laboriose,
Et magis magis in dies et horas.
Quem tu, quod minimum facillimumquest,
Qua solatus es adlocutione? 5
Irascor tibi. sic meos amores?
Paulum quid lubet adlocutionis,
Maestius lacrimis Simonideis.
XXXVIII.
A COMPLAINT TO CORNIFICIUS.
Cornificius! 'Tis ill with thy Catullus,
'Tis ill (by Hercules) distressfully:
Iller and iller every day and hour.
Whose soul (as smallest boon and easiest)
With what of comfort hast thou deign'd console? 5
Wi' thee I'm angered! Dost so prize my love?
Yet some consoling utterance had been well
Though sadder 'twere than Simonidean tears.
'Tis ill, Cornificius, with thy Catullus, 'tis ill, by Hercules, and most
untoward; and greater, greater ill, each day and hour! And thou, what
solace givest thou, e'en the tiniest, the lightest, by thy words? I'm wroth
with thee. Is my love but worth this?
Is't when like boobies sit ye incontinent here,
One or two hundred, deem ye that I fear
Two hundred ---- at one brunt?
Ay, think so, natheless all your tavern-front
With many a scorpion I will over-write. 10
For that my damsel, fro' my breast took flight,
By me so loved, as shall loved be none,
Wherefor so mighty wars were waged and won,
Does sit in public here. Ye fain, rich wights,
All woo her: thither too (the chief of slights! ) 15
All pitiful knaves and by-street wenchers fare,
And thou, (than any worse), with hanging hair,
In coney-breeding Celtiberia bred,
Egnatius! bonnified by beard full-fed,
And teeth with Spanish urine polished. 20
Tavern of lust and you its tippling crowd, (at ninth pile sign-post from
the Cap-donned Brothers) think ye that ye alone have mentules, that 'tis
allowed to you alone to touzle whatever may be feminine, and to deem all
other men mere goats? But, because ye sit, a row of fools numbering one
hundred or haply two hundred, do ye think I dare not irrumate your entire
two hundred--loungers! --at once! Think it! but I'll scrawl all over the
front of your tavern with scorpion-words. For my girl, who has fled from my
embrace (she whom I loved as ne'er a maid shall be beloved--for whom I
fought fierce fights) has seated herself here. All ye, both honest men and
rich, and also, (O cursed shame) all ye paltry back-slum fornicators, are
making hot love to her; and thou above all, one of the hairy-visaged sons
of coney-caverned Celtiberia, Egnatius, whose quality is stamped by
dense-grown beard, and teeth with Spanish urine scrubbed.
XXXVIII.
Malest, Cornifici, tuo Catullo,
Malest, me hercule, et est laboriose,
Et magis magis in dies et horas.
Quem tu, quod minimum facillimumquest,
Qua solatus es adlocutione? 5
Irascor tibi. sic meos amores?
Paulum quid lubet adlocutionis,
Maestius lacrimis Simonideis.
XXXVIII.
A COMPLAINT TO CORNIFICIUS.
Cornificius! 'Tis ill with thy Catullus,
'Tis ill (by Hercules) distressfully:
Iller and iller every day and hour.
Whose soul (as smallest boon and easiest)
With what of comfort hast thou deign'd console? 5
Wi' thee I'm angered! Dost so prize my love?
Yet some consoling utterance had been well
Though sadder 'twere than Simonidean tears.
'Tis ill, Cornificius, with thy Catullus, 'tis ill, by Hercules, and most
untoward; and greater, greater ill, each day and hour! And thou, what
solace givest thou, e'en the tiniest, the lightest, by thy words? I'm wroth
with thee. Is my love but worth this?
