If you can sit upon a humble seat,
My friend Torquatus, and endure to eat
A homely dish, a salad all the treat:
Sir, I shall make a feast, my friends invite,
And beg that you wou’d sup with me tonight.
My liquor flow’d from the Minturnian vine,
In Taurus’ Consulship, ’tis common wine;
If you have better, let your flasks be sent;
Or let what I, the lord, provide, content.
My servants sweep and furnish ev’ry room,
My dishes all are cleans’d against you come:
Forbear thy wanton hopes, and toil for gain,
And Moschus’ cause; ’tis all but idle pain.
Tomorrow Caesar’s Birthday comes, to give
Release to cares, and a small time to live.
Then we may sleep ’till Noon, and gay delight
And merry talk prolong the summer’s night


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s