your left hand too well: in wine and jest
you take neglected table-linen.
Do you think that’s witty? Get lost, you fool:
it’s such a sordid and such an unattractive
Don’t you believe me? Believe Pollionus
your brother, who wishes your thefts
could be fixed by money: he’s a boy
truly stuffed with wit and humour.
So expect three hundred hendecasylla
or return my napkin, whose value
doesn’t disturb me, truly,
it’s a remembrance of my friends.
Fabullus and Veranius sent me the gift,
napkins from Spain: they must be cherished
as my Veranius and Fabullus must be.
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