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I always remember the prayer of Virgil's sailor in extremity: "Non jam prima peto Mnestheus, neque vincere certo; Quamquam O! Sed superent quibus hoc, Neptune, dedisti! Extremos pudeat rediisse: hoc vincite, cives, Et prohibete nefas!" We must to our oar; but I think this and another are all that even success would prompt me to write; and surely those that have been my defenders
To quarrel with a man over his cups, or in any wise to molest him in his drink, is an offense against the proprieties that even the good-natured Epicurean can not find it in his easy heart to palliate or pardon. On this point he speaks mildly, but very firmly: Natis in usum lætitiæ scyphis Pugnare, Thracum est. Tollite barbarum Morem: verecundumque Bacchum Sanguineis prohibete rixis.
We had ill-formed souls enough, without spoiling those that were generous and good; so that, if we hold on, there will scarcely remain any with whom to intrust the health of this State of ours, in case fortune chance to restore it: "Hunc saltem everso juvenem succurrere seclo, Ne prohibete." Virgil, Georg., i. 500.
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