SATIRE VII.
Horace
_He humorously describes a squabble betwixt Rupilius and Persius._
In what manner the mongrel Persius revenged the filth and venom of
Rupilius, surnamed King, is I think known to all the blind men and
barbers. This Persius, being a man of fortune, had very great business
at Clazomenae, and, into the bargain, certain troublesome litigations
with King; a hardened fellow, and one who was able to exceed even King
in virulence; confident, blustering, of such a bitterness of speech,
that he would outstrip the Sisennae and Barri, if ever so well equipped.
I return to King. After nothing could be settled betwixt them (for
people among whom adverse war breaks out, are proportionably vexatious
on the same account as they are brave. Thus between Hector, the son of
Priam, and the high-spirited Achilles, the rage was of so capital a
nature, that only the final destruction [one of them] could determine
it; on no other account, than that valor in each of them was
consummate. If discord sets two cowards to work; or if an engagement
happens between two that are not of a match, as that of Diomed and the
Lycian Glaucus; the worst man will walk off, [buying his peace] by
voluntarily sending presents), when Brutus held as praetor the fertile
Asia, this pair, Rupilius and Persius, encountered; in such a manner,
that [the gladiators] Bacchius and Bithus were not better matched.
Impetuous they hurry to the cause, each of them a fine sight.
Persius opens his case; and is laughed at by all the assembly; he extols
Brutus, and extols the guard; he styles Brutus the sun of Asia, and his
attendants he styles salutary stars, all except King; that he [he says,]
came like that dog, the constellation hateful to husbandman: he poured
along like a wintery flood, where the ax seldom comes.
Then, upon his running on in so smart and fluent a manner, the
Praenestine [king] directs some witticisms squeezed from the vineyard,
himself a hardy vine-dresser, never defeated, to whom the passenger had
often been obliged to yield, bawling cuckoo with roaring voice.
But the Grecian Persius, as soon as he had been well sprinkled with
Italian vinegar, bellows out: O Brutus, by the great gods I conjure you,
who are accustomed to take off kings, why do you not dispatch this King?
Believe me, this is a piece of work which of right belongs to you.
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