Page:Satires, Epistles, Art of Poetry of Horace - Coningsby (1874).djvu/66

It chanced he had a suit, and was bound fast
Either to make appearance or be cast.
"Step here a moment, if you love me." "Nay;
I know no law: 'twould hurt my health to stay:
And then, my call." "I'm doubting what to do,
Whether to give my lawsuit up or you.
"Me, pray!" "I will not." On he strides again:
I follow, unresisting, in his train.
"How stand you with Mæcenas?" he began:
"He picks his friends with care; a shrewd wise man:
In fact, I take it, one could hardly name
A head so cool in life's exciting game.
'Twould be a good deed done, if you could throw
Your servant in his way; I mean, you know,
Just to play second: in a month, I'll swear,
You'd make an end of every rival there."
"O, you mistake: we don't live there in league:
I know no house more sacred from intrigue:
I'm never distanced in my friend's good grace
By wealth or talent: each man finds his place."
"A miracle! if 'twere not told by you,
I scarce should credit it." "And yet 'tis true."
"Ah, well, you double my desire to rise
To special favour with a man so wise."
"You've but to wish it: 'twill be your own fault,
If, with your nerve, you win not by assault:
He can be won: that puts him on his guard,
And so the first approach is always hard."
"No fear of me, sir: a judicious bribe