The First Book of the Odes of Horace.
Ode iii. To the Ship, in Which Virgil Was About to Sail to Athens.
Ode xvi. To a Young Lady Horace Had Offended.
Ode xxxiii. To Albius Tibullus.
Ode xxxiv. Against the Epicurians.
Ode xxxvii. To His Companions.
The Second Book of the Odes of Horace.
Ode ii. To Crispus Sallustius.
Ode xv. Against the Luxury of the Romans.
Ode xviii. Against Avarice and Luxury.
A Dithyrambic, or Drinking Song.
The Third Book of the Odes of Horace.
Ode ii. Against the Degeneracy of the Roman Youth.
Ode iii. On Steadiness and Integrity.
Ode v. On the Recovery of the Standards From Phraates.
Ode xiii. To the Bandusian Fountain.
Ode xxvii. To Galatea, Upon Her Going to Sea.
The Fourth Book of the Odes of Horace.
Ode viii. To Marcius Censorinus.
Ode xv. To Augustus, on the Restoration of Peace.
The Book of the Epodes of Horace.
Ode ii. The Praises of a Country Life.
Ode v. The Witches Mangling a Boy.
Ode vi. Against Cassius Severus.
Ode viii. Upon a Wanton Old Woman.
Ode xii. To a Woman Whose Charms Were Over.
Dialogue Between Horace and Canidia.
The Secular Poem of Horace. To Apollo and Diana.
The First Book of the Satires of Horace.
Satire i. That all, but especially the covetous, think their own condition the hardest.
Satire ii. Bad men, when they avoid certain vices, fall into their opposite extremes.
Satire v. He describes a certain journey of his from Rome to Brundusium with great pleasantry.
Satire vii. He humorously describes a squabble betwixt Rupilius and Persius.
Satire ix. He describes his sufferings from the loquacity of an impertinent fellow.
The Second Book of the Satires of Horace.
Satire viii. A smart description of a miser ridiculously acting the extravagant.
The First Book of the Epistles of Horace.
Epistle v. To Torquatus. He invites him to a frugal entertainment, but a cleanly and cheerful one.
Epistle vi. To Numicius. That a wise man is in love with nothing but virtue.
Epistle ix. To Claudius Tiberius Nero. He recommends Septimius to him.
The Second Book of the Epistles of Horace.
Horace's Book Upon the Art of Poetry. To the Pisos.
What would you be at, you woman fitter for the swarthy monsters? Why do you send tokens, why billet-doux to me, and not to some vigorous youth, and of a taste not nice? For I am one who discerns a polypus, or fetid ramminess, however concealed, more quickly than the keenest dog the covert of the boar. What sweatiness, and how rank an odor every where rises from her withered limbs! when she strives to lay her furious rage with impossibilities; now she has no longer the advantage of moist cosmetics, and her color appears as if stained with crocodile's ordure; and now, in wild impetuosity, she tears her bed, bedding, and all she has. She attacks even my loathings in the most angry terms:-"You are always less dull with Inachia than me: in her company you are threefold complaisance; but you are ever unprepared to oblige me in a single instance. Lesbia, who first recommended you - so unfit a help in time of need - may she come to an ill end! when Coan Amyntas paid me his addresses; who is ever as constant in his fair one's service, as the young tree to the hill it grows on. For whom were labored the fleeces of the richest Tyrian dye? For you? Even so that there was not one in company, among gentlemen of your own rank, whom his own wife admired preferably to you: oh, unhappy me, whom you fly, as the lamb dreads the fierce wolves, or the she-goats the lions!"