Cronies of Piso, empty-hand cohort,
Baggage equipped for marching light,
Veranius, best of men, and you, dear Fabullus,
What suffer you? Haven’t you endured
Enough cold and hunger with that waste of space?
Do your expense accounts reveal any slight profit
As mine – after, following my praetor’s example,
I recorded expenditure as gain?
Oh Memmius, for long now you’ve excelled at slowly
Inserting the length of that pole of yours into my face
As I lie flat out. But as far as I can see you have both fared
Just the same, for you are screwed by no smaller a cock.
Seek noble friends, they say.
May the gods and goddesses punish you harshly,
Blots upon Romulus and Remus.