If was well after nine when we reached Vesta’s temple,
The hour, as it happened, when he was due to answer
A charge: on pain of losing his case if he didn’t appear.
‘Give me some help for a while, as you love me,’ he says.
‘Slay me if I’ve the strength for it, and I don’t know the law:
And I’ve got to go, you know where.’ ‘I’m not sure,’ says he,
Whether to abandon you or my case.’ ‘Me , please.’ ‘No, no,’
Says he, and forges ahead. I follow, it’s hard to fight
When you’re beaten. ‘How do you get on with Maecenas?’
He starts in again; ‘a man of good judgement, few friends.
No one’s used opportunity better. You’d gain
A helper, a good number two, if you’d introduce
Yours truly to him: blow me, if you couldn’t have blown
Away all the rest!’ ‘The life up there’s not what you think:
No house is freer from taint or intrigue than that one:
It never troubles me, I can tell you, if someone
Is richer than me or more learned: everyone has
His own place.’ ‘What a tale, I can hardly believe that!’
‘Well, it’s true.’ ‘You inflame my desire to get closer
To him.’ ‘Only wish: with your virtues you’ll carry
The day: he’s a person who can be won, and that’s why
He makes the first entrance so hard.’ I’ll not fail:
I’ll bribe his servants with gifts: if I’m excluded
Today, I’ll persist: I’ll search out a suitable time,
Encounter him in the street, escort him home. Life grants
Nothing to mortals without a great effort.’ While he
Rabbits on, we meet Aristius Fuscus, a dear friend
Who knows the man well. We stop. ‘Where’ve you been,
Where are you going?’ He asks, he answers. I start to
Tug at his cloak, and press on his irresponsive arms,
Nodding and winking at him to save me, the joker
Cruelly laughing in non-comprehension: I grew
Heated with anger. ‘Wasn’t there something you needed
To say in private.’ Yes I remember, I’ll tell you
At some more convenient time: it’s the thirtieth,
Sabbath: do you want to offend the circumcised Jews?’
‘Nothing’s sacred to me.’ ‘It is to me: I’m one
Of the many, somewhat weaker. Pardon: another day.’
That so black a sun had risen for me! The rascal flees
Leaving me under the knife. Suddenly we’re faced
By the plaintiff. ‘Where are you off to, you scoundrel?’
A great voice shouts, then to me: ‘Will you be a witness?’
I offer my ear. He hurries him off: clamour ensures
People come running. And that’s how Apollo saved me.