or the hostile sword, nor pleurisy, nor cough, nor
the crippling gout destroy: a babbler shall one day demolish him; if he
be wise, let him avoid talkative people, as soon as he comes to man's
estate.'"

One fourth of the day being now passed, we came to Vesta's temple; and,
as good luck would have it, he was obliged to appear to his
recognizance; which unless he did, he must have lost his cause. "If you
love me," said he, "step in here a little." "May I die! if I be either
able to stand it out, or have any knowledge of the civil laws: and
besides, I am in a hurry, you know whither." "I am in doubt what I shall
do," said he; "whether desert you or my cause." "Me, I beg of you." "I
will not do it," said he; and began to take the lead of me. I (as it is
difficult to contend with one's master) follow him. "How stands it with
Maecenas and you?" Thus he begins his prate again. "He is one of few
intimates, and of a very wise way of thinking. No man ever made use of
opportunity with more cleverness. You should have a powerful assistant,
who could play an underpart, if you were disposed to recommend this man;
may I perish, if you should not supplant all the rest!" "We do not live
there in the manner you imagine; there is not a house that is freer or
more remote from evils of this nature. It is never of any disservice to
me, that any particular person is wealthier or a better scholar than I
am: every individual has his proper place." "You tell me a marvelous
thing, scarcely credible." "But it is even so." "You the more inflame my
desires to be near his person." "You need only be inclined to it: such
is your merit, you will accomplish it: and he is capable of being won;
and on that account the first access to him he makes difficult." "I will
not be wanting to myself: I will corrupt his servants with presents; if
I am excluded to-day, I will not desist; I will seek opportunities; I
will meet him in the public streets; I will wait upon him home. Life
allows nothing to mortals without great labor." While he was running on
at this rate, lo! Fuscus Aristius comes up, a dear friend of mine, and
one who knows the fellow well. We make a stop. "Whence come you? whither
are you going?" he asks and answers. I began to twitch him [by the
elbow], and to take hold of his arms [that were affectedly] passive,
nodding and distorting my eyes, that he might rescue me. Cruelly arch
he laughs, and pretends not to take the hint: anger galled my liver.