LXVII
Catullus.
Hail, house-door, once dear to a well-beloved husband and to his father, hail, and may Jupiter bless you with kindly help; you door, who once, they say, did kindly service to Balbus, when the old man himself held the house, and who since then,5 they tell us, are doing grudging service to his son, now that the old man is dead and laid out, and you are become the door of a wedded house.
Come tell us why you are said to be changed,
and to have deserted your old faithfulness to your
master.
House-door.
It is not — so may I please Caecilius whose property I am now become — it is not my fault, though10 it is said to be mine, nor can any one speak of any wrong done by me. Rut of course people will have it that the door does it all; they, whenever any ill deed is discovered, all cry out to me, 'housedoor, the fault is yours.'
Catullus.
It is not enough for you to say that with15 a single word, but so to do that any one may feel and see it.
House-door.
How can I? no one asks or cares to know.
Catullus. I wish to know — do not scruple to tell me.
15—2
