Book IV, Epigram 8 (Ker)

The first and the second hour wearies clients at the levee, the third hour sets hoarse advocates to work; till the end of the fifth Rome extends her various tastes; the sixth gives rest to the tired; the seventh will be the end. The eighth to the ninth suffices for the oiled wrestlers; the ninth bids us crush the piled couches. The tenth hour is the hour for my poems, Euphemus, when your care sets out the ambrosial feast, and kindly Caesar soothes his heart with heavenly nectar, and holds in mighty hand his frugal cup. Then admit my jests: my Thalia fears with unlicensed step to approach a morning Jove.