Satires of Juvenal and Persius

the kind whom Fortune, whenever she wishes to joke,
raises from the humblest beginnings to the great heights of affairs.
What should I do in Rome? I do not know how to lie; if a book
is bad, I cannot praise it, and ask for it; I am ignorant of the motions
of the stars; I neither wish nor can I promise the death of a father;
I have never inspected the entrails of frogs; let others know how to carry
what an adulterer sends to a married woman,
what he commands; with me as an assistant, no one
will be a thief, and therefore I am a companion to no one, as if I were
maimed and a useless body with a withered right hand.
Who is now loved unless he is an accomplice? And whose burning
mind seethes with secrets that must always remain unspoken?
He thinks he owes nothing to you, and will never bestow anything,
who has made you a participant in an honest secret.
He will be dear to Verres who can accuse Verres
at a time he wishes; may all the sand of the Tagus a river known for gold and the gold that is rolled into the sea
not be worth so much to you, that you lose your sleep,
and take rewards that must be put aside,
sad, and always be feared by your great friend.
Which race is now most acceptable to our rich men,
and whom I should especially flee, I will hasten to confess,
nor will shame stand in the way. I cannot bear, citizens,
a Greek city, although what portion of the dregs of Achaea is this?
Long ago the Syrian Orontes flowed into the Tiber,
and brought with it the language, and customs, and strings
with a flute-player, and also native tambourines,
and girls ordered to stand for hire at the circus.
Go, you for whom the barbarian prostitute with a painted turban is pleasing.
That rustic of yours of yours, Quirinus, takes up the rechedipna supper after the main course,
and carries the victory prizes on his perfumed neck.