Persius, Satire 4
Translated by Lewis Evans (1889)
Formatted by C. Chinn (2008)

	Dost thou wield the affairs of the state?—(Imagine the bearded master, 
	whom the fell draught of hemlock took off, to be saying this:)—
	Relying on what? Speak, thou ward of great Pericles. 
	Has talent, forsooth, and precocious, knowledge of the world, come before 
5	thy beard? Knowest thou what must be spoken, and what kept back? 
	And, therefore, when the populace is boiling with excited passion, 
	does your spirit move you to impose silence on the crowd by the majesty, 
	of your hand I and what will you say then? “ I think, Quirites, 
	this is not just! That is bad! This is the properer course.” 
10	For you know how to weigh the justice of the case in the double scale 
	of the doubtful balance. You can discern the straight line when it lies 
	between curves, or when the rule misleads by its distorted foot; 
	and you are competent to affix the Theta of condemnation to a defect. 
	Why do you not then (adorned in vain with outer skin) cease 
15	to display your tail before the day to the fawning rabble, 
	more fit to swallow down undiluted Anticyras? 
	What is your chief good? to have lived always on rich dishes; 
	and a skin made delicate by constant basking in the sun? 
	Stay: this old woman would scarce give a different answer—” Go now! 
20	I am son of Dinomache!” Puff yourself up!—”I am beautiful.” Granted! 
	Still Baucis, though in tatters, has no worse philosophy, 
	when she has cried her herbs to good purpose to some slovenly slave. 
	
	How is it that not a man tries to descend into himself? Not a man! 
	But our gaze is fixed on the wallet on the back in front of us! 
25	You may ask, “Do you know Vectidius’ farms!” Whose? 
	“The rich fellow that cultivates more land at Cures than a kite can fly over!” 
	Him do you mean? Him, born under the wrath of Heaven, and an 
	inauspicious Genius, who whenever he fixes his yoke at the beaten 
	cross-ways, fearing to scrape off the clay incrusted on the diminutive 
30	vessel, groans out, “May this be well!” and munching an onion in 
	its hull, with some salt, and a dish of frumety (his slaves applauding 
	the while), sups up the mothery dregs of vapid. vinegar. 
	But if, well essenced, you lounge away your time and bask in the sun, 
	there stands by you one, unkenned, to touch you with his elbow, 
35	and spit out his bitter detestation on your morals—
	on you, who by vile arts make your body delicate! 
	While you comb the perfumed hair on your cheeks, 
	why does your penis project shaved from your loins? 
	When, though five wrestlers pluck out the weeds, 
40	and lay bare your buttocks, plucked by the hooked tweezers,
	the rank fern will yield to no amount of toil.” 
	
	We strike; and in our turn expose our limbs to the arrows. 
	It is thus we live. Thus we know it to-be. You have 
	a secret wound, though the baldric hides it with its broad 
45	gold. As you please! Impose upon your own powers; deceive them 
	if you can!” While the whole neighborhood pronounces me to be super-
	excellent, shall I not credit them?” If you grow pale, vile wretch, at the sight 
	of money; if you execute all that suggests itself to your lust; 
	if you cautiously lash the forum with many a stroke, in vain 
50	you present to the rabble your thirsty ears. Cast off from you that 
	which you are not. Let the cobbler bear off his presents. Dwell with 
	yourself, and you will know how short your household stuff is.