Book V, Epigram 19 (Ker)

If one may trust truth, no ages, most mighty Caesar, can be set above your times. When could we view more noble triumphs? when have the Palatine gods more deserved our thanks? under what chief was Rome, city of Mars, fairer and greater? under what prince was liberty so great? Yet is there this blot, no small one, though it be but one: that a poor man courts ungrateful friendships. Who lavishes his wealth on an old and loyal comrade, or whom does a knight he himself made escort? To have dispatched at the Saturnalia a table-spoon weighing half a pound, or a flame-hued toga worth ten scruples in all, is to them extravagance, and our puffed-up lords call these bounties, though perhaps just one of them may make sovereigns chink. So long as these men are no friends, be you, Caesar, our friend; no merit in a chief can be more pleasing. All this while you are smiling, Caesar, with a quiet sneer because I am giving you advice profitable to myself.