you no faults?” Indeed, but not the same,and maybe ones that are a bit more tame.
When Maenius decided to attack35
the name of Novius behind his back,
somebody interrupted him with,
“Hey! Do you not know yourself, or do you say you do not notice due to all your lies?” “I'm no self-critic,” Maenius replies.40
It's silly and obscene, this egotism,
and it deserves your public criticism.
For your own shortcomings, your eyes will burn,
then blur when smeared with balm. Why do they turn
as clear as any eagle's or a snake45
of Epidaurus when it's time to take
a look at how friends fail?—although what goes
around comes back again whenever those
who scrutinize your faults are these same friends:
“He is a bit pugnacious, and offends50 the keener noses of the present day.”
He may feel ridiculed when people say
he cuts his hair the way that bumpkins do,
his toga drags, and an ill-fitting shoe
keeps slipping off, but he's a decent guy—55
you won't find someone better if you try,
and vast capacities may hide within
that fellow's unsophisticated skin.
Once finished, shake yourself to check if seeds
of evil in your nature or bad deeds60
are sown within you; in neglected fields
we need to burn away the weedy yields.
Let's turn now to this subject: being blind,
a man who is in love can never find
his girlfriend's blemishes and may extol65
her flaws, just like Balbinus and the mole
of Hagna. With our friends I wish we'd make
a reasonably similar mistake
and ethics labeled it accordingly—
for if a friend has some deformity70
we should, like fathers with their kids, not shun
the handicap. A dad will name a son
who's crosseyed “Blinky.” If he is as tall
as Sisyphus the Midget, he will call
the son “Small Fry.” A bowlegged boy who limps75
will be affectionately known as “Gimps”
and one with twisted anklebones who hobbles
unsteadily will win the nickname “Wobbles.”
Somebody's tight with money? Let's just say
that he's “quite frugal.” Does a man display80
few signs of tactfulness or self-restraint?
Within his social crowd, he tries to paint
himself as “eager.” Is somebody loud
and blunt? Let's call him “candid” and “uncowed.”
Obnoxious? Let's relabel him “empassioned.”85
For me this practice shows how bonds are fashioned
and preserved once formed, and yet we turn
good habits on their head and foul an urn
that was pristine. When someone lives nearby
who is an unassuming, honest guy,90
we'll call him “Ox” or “Sluggo.” One who glides
past every obstacle and always hides
his naked flank from likely enemies
while life is churning with its jealousies
and innuendos will be labeled “fake”95
or “too conniving”—never “wide awake”
or “shrewd”—though if a person's so sincere
(as I would think, Maecenas, I appear
to you so often) that he'll interject,
perhaps, with chitchat, as his friends reflect100
or read, we say he's short on savoir faire.
Alas! Despite remaining unaware
of adverse consequences, we endure
this rule inflicted on ourselves! For sure,
there's no one born without some faults; the best105
possess those less substantial than the rest.
As is fair, any worthwhile friend will balance
my deficiencies against my talents,
and if he wants my friendship, he'll place weight
upon my qualities that compensate110
for my shortcomings—if, in fact, they do!
And if he is intending to pursue
my friendship, fairness means he must be weighed
upon that scale. No one should be dismayed
if he discovers pimples on a friend—115
unless he wants his own warts to offend.
If absolution is what someone wants,
he should expect to grant the same response.
Moreover, since we can't completely weed
out violent rage and errors of that breed120
for people stuck with their stupidity,
why couldn't Reason with validity
rely upon its weights and measurements
and match fair penalties to each offense?
Suppose a servant who had cleared a dish125
had
