Book V, Epigram 39 (Ker)

While you were thirty times in the year sealing your last will, Charinus, I sent you cakes steeped with Hybla's thyme-fed honey. I am used up: pity me now, Charinus; seal more seldom, or do once for all what your cough constantly suggests falsely. I have shaken out my boxes and my money-bag; had I been richer than Croesus, yet I should now be poorer than Irus, Charinus, had you so often eaten beans of mine.