quod facto aut dicto adeost opus, quietus ne sis.

This is where it comes hard slaving it for a nabob, this is
where a plutocrat’s servant is worse off--night and day
there’s work enough and more for him, no end, always
something to be done, yes, or said, so that you can’t rest.

ipse dominus dives, operis et laboris expers, 170
quodcumque homini accidit libere, posse retur:
aequom esse putat, non reputat laboris quid sit[10] (172)
ergo in servitute expetunt multa iniqua: (174)
habendum et ferundum hoc onust cum labore.

And your plutocrat of a master, that never does a handsturn
of work himself, takes it for granted that any whim that
comes into a man’s head can be gratified: yes, he counts
that the fair thing, and never takes account of how much
the work is. Ah, I tell you, there’s a great deal of
injustice this slavery lets you in for: you’ve got to take
your load and carry it, and that is work.

_Mer._

Satius me queri illo modo servitutem:
hodie qui fuerim liber,
cum nunc potivit pater servitutis,
his qui verna natus est queritur.

(_aside_) It would be more in order for Mercury to do some
of this grumbling about menial station--was free this very