# The Satires, Epistles & Art of Poetry of Horace/Ep1-6

VI. To Numicius.
Nil admirari.
OT to admire, Numicius, is the best, The only way, to make and keep men blest. The sun, the stars, the seasons of the year That come and go, some gaze at without fear:
What think you of the gifts of earth and sea, The untold wealth of Ind or Araby, Or, to come nearer home, our games and shows, The plaudits and the honours Rome bestows? How should we view them? ought they to convulse The well-strung frame and agitate the pulse? Who fears the contrary, or who desires The things themselves, in either case admires; Each way there's flutter; something unforeseen Disturbs the mind that else had been serene. Joy, grief, desire or fear, whate'er the name The passion bears, its influence is the same; Where things exceed your hope or fall below, You stare, look blank, grow numb from top to toe. E'en virtue's self, if followed to excess, Turns right to wrong, good sense to foolishness. Go now, my friend, drink in with all your eyes Bronze, silver, marble, gems, and Tyrian dyes, Feel pride when speaking in the sight of Rome, Go early out to 'Change and late come home, For fear your income drop beneath the rate That comes to Mutus from his wife's estate, And (shame and scandal!), though his line is new, You give the pas to him, not he to you. Whate'er is buried mounts at last to light, While things get hid in turn that once looked bright. So when Agrippa's mall and Appius' way Have watched your well-known figure day by day,
At length the summons comes, and you must go To Numa and to Ancus down below. Your side's in pain; a doctor hits the blot: You wish to live aright (and who does not?); If virtue holds the secret, don't defer; Be off with pleasure, and be on with her. But no; you think all morals sophists' tricks, Bring virtue down to words, a grove to sticks; Then hey for wealth! quick, quick, forestall the trade With Phrygia and the East, your fortune's made. One thousand talents here—one thousand there— A third—a fourth, to make the thing four-square. A dowried wife, friends, beauty, birth, fair fame, These are the gifts of money, heavenly dame: Be but a moneyed man, persuasion tips Your tongue, and Venus settles on your lips. The Cappadocian king has slaves enow, But gold he lacks: so be it not with you. Lucullus was requested once, they say, A hundred scarves to furnish for the play: "A hundred!" he replied, "'tis monstrous; still I'll look; and send you what I have, I will." Ere long he writes: "Five thousand scarves I find; Take part of them, or all if you're inclined." That's a poor house where there's not much to spare Which masters never miss and servants wear. So, if 'tis wealth that makes and keeps us blest, Be first to start and last to drop the quest.
If power and mob-applause be man's chief aims, Let's hire a slave to tell us people's names, To jog us on the side, and make us reach, At risk of tumbling down, a hand to each: "This rules the Fabian, that the Veline clan; Just as he likes, he seats or ousts his man:" Observe their ages, have your greeting pat, And duly "brother" this, and "father" that. Say that the art to live's the art to sup, Go fishing, hunting, soon as sunlight's up, As did Gargilius, who at break of day Swept with his nets and spears the crowded way, Then, while all Rome looked on in wonder, brought Home on a single mule a boar he'd bought. Thence pass on to the bath-room, gorged and crude, Our stomachs stretched with undigested food, Lost to all self-respect, all sense of shame, Disfranchised freemen, Romans but in name, Like to Ulysses' crew, that worthless band, Who cared for pleasure more than fatherland. If, as Mimnermus tells you, life is flat With nought to love, devote yourself to that. Farewell: if you can mend these precepts, do: If not, what serves for me may serve for you.