Pinge duos angues : pueri, sacer est locus: extra
Meiite, discedo. Secuit Lucilius urbem,

Te Lupe, te Muti, et genuinum fregit in illis.
Omne vafer vitium ridenti Flaccus amico
Tangit, et admissus circum præcordia ludit,
Callidus excusso populum suspendere naso.
Men' mutire nefas, nec clam, nec cum scrobe? nusquam.
Heic tamen infodiam. Vidi, vidi ipse, libelle:
Auriculas asini Mida rex habet. Hoc ego opertum,

Hoc ridere meum tam nil, nulla tibi vendo
Iliade. Audaci quicunque afflate Cratino,
Iratum Eupolidem prægrandi cum sene palles,
Aspice et hæc, si fortè aliquid decoctius audis ;

Be it resolved, that this be sacred ground,
That babbling critics be to silence bound:
Be it resolved, that when occasion calls,
Unlucky boys do not pollute these walls.
Yet let me say, when old Lucilius sung,
Invectives fell not garbled from his tongue.
With greater art sly Horace gain'd his end,
But spared no failing of his smiling friend ;
Sportive and pleasant round the heart he play'd,
And wrapt in jests the censure he convey'd ;
With such address his willing victims seized,
That tickled fools were rallied, and were pleased.
But why should I then bridle in my rage?
Why tremble thus to lash a guilty age?
Here let me dig-ev'n here the truth unfold
(As once the gossip barber did of old),
Here to my little book I will declare,

Of ass's ears I've seen a royal pair.

Nor would I now have miss'd this single hit
For all the Iliads by the Accii writ.

If such there be who feel the force and fire
Of bold Cratinus' free and manly lyre;

Who, while they see triumphant vice prevail,
O'er the stern page of Eupolis grow pale;
Or nightly loiter with that comic sage,
Who lash'd, amused, did all but mend his age;
Let them look here; and if by chance they find
Men well described, or manners well design'd,

Inde- -vaporata lector mihi ferveat aure.

Non hic, qui in crepidas Graiorum ludere gestit Sordidus, et lusco qui poscit dicere, lusce;

Sese aliquem credens, Italo quod honore supinus Fregerit heminas Areti ædilis iniquas:

Nec qui abaco numeros, et secto in pulvere metas
Scit risisse vafer, multum gaudere paratus,

Si Cynico barbam petulans Nonaria vellat.
His mane edictum, post prandia Callirhoën do.

Let them acknowledge that my breast has known
Fires not less pure, less generous than their own.
But let that sordid wretch approach not here,
Whose utmost wit is some offensive jeer;
Whose narrow mind,nor sense, nor honour knows;
Who mocks the tear which from affliction flows;
Who never kindred sigh of sorrow heaves,
But dares to laugh when suffering nature grieves :
Hence let such readers fly, though on them wait,
An Edile's honours, or Proconsul's state :
And hence, far hence, be all that vulgar crew,
Whose theme still is the stable or the stew;
Who mock all science, all her laws despise,
Insult the good, and ridicule the wise;

Hence too, that mushroom race of beardless fools,
An annual crop, the produce of our schools;
Who hear unmoved the sage's warning tongue,
To mark his shoe ill form'd, or gown ill hung;
Whose noisy laugh, whose plaudits still are heard,
When the pert wanton plucks the Cynic's beard,
Ye thoughtless fools, for greater things unfit,
The paths of vice for those of dullness quit:
There kill the time-there linger out your day :
Grow women's men, and dream your lives away.