“I would inquire of him himself all this, which you report; bid him come to sup with me.”  Maena can not believe it; he wonders silently within himself.  Why many words?  He answers, “It is kind.”  “Can he deny me?” “The rascal denies, and disregards or dreads you.”  In the morning Philip comes unawares upon Vulteius, as he is selling brokery-goods to the tunic’d populace, and salutes him first.  He pleads to Philip his employment, and the confinement of his business, in excuse for not having waited upon him in the morning; and afterward, for not seeing him first.  “Expect that I will excuse you on this condition, that you sup with me to-day.”  “As you please.”  “Then you will come after the ninth hour:  now go:  strenuously increase your stock.”  When they were come to supper, having discoursed of things of a public and private nature, at length he is dismissed to go to sleep.  When he had often been seen, to repair like a fish to the concealed hook, in the morning a client, and now as a constant guest; he is desired to accompany [Philip] to his country-seat near the city, at the proclaiming of the Latin festivals.  Mounted on horseback, he ceases not to cry up the Sabine fields and air.  Philip sees it, and smiles:  and, while he is seeking amusement and diversion for himself out of every thing, while he makes him a present of seven thousand sesterces, and promises to lend him seven thousand more:  he persuades him to purchase a farm:  he purchases one.  That I may not detain you with a long story beyond what is necessary, from a smart cit he becomes a downright rustic, and prates of nothing but furrows and vineyards; prepares his elms; is ready to die with eager diligence, and grows old through a passionate desire of possessing.  But when his sheep were lost by theft, his goats by distemper, his harvest deceived his hopes, his ox was killed with plowing; fretted with these losses, at midnight he snatches his nag, and in a passion makes his way to Philip’s house.  Whom as soon as Philip beheld, rough and unshaven, “Vulteius,” said he, “you seem to me to be too laborious and earnest.”  “In truth, patron,” replied he, “you would call me a wretch, if you would apply to me my true name.  I beseech and conjure you then, by your genius and your right hand and your household gods, restore me to my former life.”  As soon as a man perceives, how much the things he has discarded excel those which he pursues, let him return in time, and resume those which he relinquished.

It is a truth, that every one ought to measure himself by his own proper foot and standard.

* * * * *

EPISTLE VIII.

TO CELSUS ALBINOVANUS.

That he was neither well in body, nor in mind; that Celtics should bear his prosperity with moderation.