on that one condition.
For, truth to tell, my wretched purse is
In its last stage of inanition,
And not a single coin disburses:
A cobweb's over it, and in it--
That Spider Want there loves to spin it.

Setting aside this lack of coffer,
Which you can supply, Fabullus,
Accept good welcome--and I offer,
For company, your friend Catullus.
Yet, though so hard my purse's case is,
With such rare unguents I'll present you,
Compounded by the Loves and Graces
For my dear girl, that you shall scent you
With perfume more divine than roses;
And after, pray the gods, within you,
To change sense, nerve, bone, muscle, sinew,
And make you all compact of noses.

CURATE.--There you are again bolting out of the course. Sending poor
Fabullus to market, without money in his purse,--not a word in the
original of fruit-culling and "paying the piper."

AQUILIUS.--If Gratian had not the book in his hand, I would boldly
assert that it is all there. He will admit it is the entire meaning.

CURATE.--With the elegant diction, "paying the piper," indeed! "Haec si,
inquam, attuleris, venuste noster."

GRATIAN.--Well, I almost think "venuste noster," "my good fellow," or
"my pleasant fellow," will allow the freedom of the translation, for it
is a free and easy appellative. Come, then, Curate, let us have your
accurate version.

CURATE.--Perhaps you may think, when you hear it, that I am in the same
predicament of blame with Aquilius, and that my criticism was a ruse, to
divide the censure pretty equally.

AD FABULLUM.

Fabullus, if the gods will let you,
Before a table I will set you,
A few days hence, with welcome hearty,
To my domestic dinner-party.
That is to say--you bring the food,
(Which must be plentiful and good,)
With wine--remembering, I presume,
For one fair girl I've always room.
On these conditions you shall dine
Luxurious, boon-companion mine.
Seeing that your Catullus' purse
Has nought but cobwebs left to nurse,
I can but give you in return
The loves that undiluted burn;
And, something sweeter, neater still--
A scented unguent I'll impart,
Which Venus and her Loves distil
To please the girl that owns my heart:
Which when you smell, this boon--this solely
You'll ask the gods to recompose;
And metamorphose you, and wholly,
To one e