Book IV, Epigram 61 (Ker)

Proudly and joyfully the other day you boasted, Maiicinus, that a friend had bestowed on you two hundred thousand sesterces. Three days ago, while we were chatting in the Poets' Club, you told me that a cloak, Pompulla's present, cost ten thousand; you swore that Bassa and Caelia had given you a genuine sardonyx, one girt with triple lines, and two gems like the sea-waves. Yesterday, though your exit from the theatre, while Pollio was singing, was sudden, in your very flight you said that three hundred thousand sesterces had come to you by will, and this morning you added a hundred, and afterwards at noon another hundred. What great injury have we, your friends, done you? Cruel fellow, at length pity us, and at length hold your peace. Or, if that tongue of yours can't be still, prate sometimes of what we want to hear.