Book III, Epigram 46 (Ker)

You exact from me gowned service without end; I don't attend, but I despatch to you my freedman. "It isn't the same thing," you say. I will prove it is much more: I could hardly escort a litter, lie will carry it. Supposing you get into a crowd, he will thrust them all back with his elbow; my flanks are weak, and a gentleman's. Supposing you tell a story in your pleading, I myself will hold my peace; but he will bellow for you a thrice-redoubled "Bravo!" If you have a lawsuit he will pour abuse in stentorian tones; shyness has forbidden me strong language. "So you, though a friend, will give me no service?" you say. Whatever, Candidus, my freedman cannot.