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...his new friend, still bridled and bestrid. So he who, fearing penury, loses hold Of independence, better far than gold, Will toil, a hopeless drudge, till life is spent, Because he'll never, never learn content. Means should, like shoes, be neither large nor small; Too wide, they trip us up, too strait, they gall.
Then live contented, Fuscus, nor be slow To give a friendly rap to one you know, Whene'er you find me struggling to increase My neat sufficiency, and ne'er at peace.Gold will be slave or master.'tis more fit That it be led by us than we by it.
From tumble-down Vacuna's fane I write, Wanting but you to make me happy quite.
XI. TO BULLATIUS.
QUID TIBI VISA CHIOS?
How like you Chios, good Bullatius? what Think you of Lesbos, that world-famous spot? What of the town of Samos, trim and neat, And what of Sardis, Croesus' royal seat? Of Smyrna what and Colophon? are they Greater or less than travellers' stories say? Do all look poor beside our scenes at home, The... Horace
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