It is the privilege of posterity to set matters right between those antagonists who, by their rivalry for greatness, divided a whole age.

Sometimes even it is necessary to imitate God's dealings with souls, Who often so softens His rebuke that the person rebuked feels rather as though he were accusing himself than being accused. Anything like impatient reproof from being shocked at great faults becomes a very human correction, not that of grace.Our own imperfection makes us hasty to rebuke the imperfect, and it is a very subtle and ll-permeating self-love which cannot forgive the self-love of others. The stronger it is, the more critical the censor will be: there is nothing so irritating to a proud, self-willed mind, as the self-will of a neighbor; and another man's passions seem intolerably ridiculous and unbearable to one who is given up to his own. But he who is full oft he love of God, on the contrary, is full of forbearance, consideration, and indulgence. He waits and adapts himself, and goes softly, one step at a time: the less self-love he has, the more he tolerates that of others in order to heal it.

Ev’ry mans ordure well,
To his owne sense doth smell.
[tr. Florio (1603)]

To each one their own manure smells good.
[tr. Cotton/Hazlitt (1877)]

Every man's filth smells sweet to himself.
[tr. Ives (1925)]

Each man likes best the smell of his own dung.
[tr. Zeitlin (1934)]

Every man likes the smell of his own dung.
[tr. Frame (1943)]

Every man's filth smells sweet to him.
[tr. Cohen (1958)]

Everyone thinks his own fart smells sweet.
[tr. Drysdall (2001); of Erasmus]

The more we love any one, the less we ought to flatter her. True love shows itself in overlooking nothing; and, were I a lady, I would banish all those mean-spirited lovers who submit to all my sentiments, and whose mild complacencies every moment offer up incense to my vagaries.
[tr. Van Laun (1878)]

The more we love any one, the less it behoves us to flatter them; true love shows itself by pardoning nothing, and for my part I would banish all those mean-spirited lovers whom I found submissive to all my opinions, and whose soft complaisance offered incense to all my extravagant ideas.
[tr. Mathew (1890), 2.6]

The more we love our friends, the less we flatter them; it is by excusing nothing that pure love shows itself. For my part, I would banish those unworthy lovers who slavishly submit to all my sentiments, and by their weak compliance swing incense to my follies.
[tr. Wormeley (1894)]

The more we love, the less ought we to flatter. True love shows itself in not pardoning anything; and, for my part, I would banish every one of those mean-spirited lovers who submit to all my views, whose tame compliance on every occasion burns incense to my vagaries.
[tr. Waller (1903), 2.4]

The more we love, the less we ought to flatter;
True love is proven by condoning nothing;
For my part, I would banish those base lovers
I found agreeing with my own opinions,
And pandering with weak obsequiousness
To my vagaries upon all occasions.
[tr. Page (1913)]

The more you love, the less you ought to flatter;
And true love is incapable of pardon.
If I were she, I'd banish all admirers
Submissive to my slightest sentiment,
Fawning upon me with their cheap applause
For even my most extreme extravagances.
[tr. Bishop (1957)]

Loving and flattering are worlds apart;
The least forgiving is the truest heart;
And I would send those soft suitors away,
Seeing they dote on everything I say,
And that their praise, complaisant to excess,
Encourages me in my foolishness.
[tr. Frame (1967), 2.4]

Our city is morose, and prone to slander.
[tr. Wodhull (1809)]

Our citizens are hard to please, and love to blame.
[tr. Coleridge (1891)]

Our city is hard to please and fond of slander.
[tr. Buckley (1892)]

Our folk be ill to please, and censure-prone.
[tr. Way (1896)]

Our city gives
Quick blame; and little love have men for me.
[tr. Murray (1905)]

The city has an ill will towards us. Argos will shun us.
[tr. Theodoridis (2006)]

Still, the city
is hard to please and loves to criticize.
[tr. Johnston (2009)]

Our state is hard to please and loves complaints.
[tr. @sentantiq (2020)]

The less we talk of the powerful, the better; what we say good of them, is often flattery: 'Tis dangerous to speak ill of 'em while they live, and villainous when they are dead.
[Bullord ed. (1696)]

The less we talk of the Great and Powerful, the better; what good we say of them is often Flattery 'Tis dangerous to speak ill of them while they are alive, and villainous when dead.
[Curll ed. (1713)]

The less we talk of the Great and Powerful, the better; what good we say of them is often Flattery: It is dangerous to speak of of them while living, it is base to insult over them when dead.
[Browne ed. (1752)]

The less we talk of the great and powerful the better; if we say any good of them, it is often almost flattery; it is dangerous to speak ill of them whilst they are alive, and cowardly when they are dead.
[tr. Van Laun (1885)]

We are liberal of our remonstrances and reprehensions towards those, whom we think guilty of miscarriages; but we therein betray more pride, than charity. Our reproving them does not so much proceed from any desire in us of their reformation, as from an insinuation that we our selves are not chargeable with the like faults.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶142]

Pride hath a greater share than Goodness in the reproofs we give other people for their faults; and we chide them, not so much with a design to mend them, as to make them believe that we ourselves are not guilty of them.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶38]

Pride is more concerned than benevolence in our remonstrances to persons guilty of faults; and we reprove them not so much with a design to correct, as to make them believe that we ourselves are free from such failings.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶349; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶37]

In our reprehensions, pride has a greater share than good nature. We reprove, not so much in order to correct, as to intimate that we hold ourselves free from such failings.
[ed. Carville (1835), ¶309]

Pride has a greater share than goodness of heart in the remonstrances we make to those who are guilty of faults; we reprove not so much with a view to correct them as to persuade them that we are exempt from those faults ourselves.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶38]

Pride has a larger part than goodness in our remonstrances with those who commit faults, and we reprove them not so much to correct as to persuade them that we ourselves are free from faults.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶37]

Pride, rather than virtue, makes us reprove those who have done wrong; our reproaches are not so much intended to improve the evil-doer, as to show him that we are quite free of his taint.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶37]

Pride plays a greater part than kindness in our remonstrating with those who make mistakes; and we point out their faults, less to correct them than to indicate they are not ours.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶37]

Pride plays a greater part than kindness in the reprimands we address to wrongdoers; we reprove them not so much to reform them as to make them believe that we are free from their faults.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶37]

Pride shares a greater part than the goodness of our hearts in the reprimands we give to those who commit faults; and we do not reprove so much in order to correct them, as in order to persuade them that we are ourselves exempt from those faults.
[tr. Whichello (2016), ¶37]

Oh what times! what a world do we live in!
[tr. Wase (1671)]

But O degenerate times!
[tr. Sydney (1795)]

Shame on the age and on its principles!
[tr. Yonge (1856)]

O the times! O the manners.
[tr. Underwood (1885)]

O times! O manners!
[tr. Dewey (1916)]

What a scandalous commentary on our age and its standards!
[tr. Grant (1960)]

O what times (we live in)! O what customs (we pursue)!
[IB Notes]

What times! What morals!
[Source]

He who regards nothing more in his Works than the taste of the Age, has a greater value for his Person than his Writings: He should always aim at Perfection; and tho his Contemporaries refuse him Justice, Posterity will give it him.
[Bullord ed. (1696)]

He who regards nothing more in his Works than the Taste of his own Age, Considers his Person more than his Writings: He should always aim at Perfection, and tho his Contemporaries refuse him Justice, Posterity will give it him.
[Curll ed. (1713)]

He who regards nothing more in his Works than the Taste of the Age, has a greater value for his Person than his Writings: He should always aim at Perfection; and though his Cotempararies refuse him Justice, he will be better used by Posterity.
[Browne ed. (1752)]

He who only writes to suit the taste of the age, considers himself more than his writings. We should always aim at perfection, and then posterity will do us that justice which sometimes our contemporaries refuse.
[tr. Van Laun (1885)]

For if aftir this presente life I be dede as wele in soule as in body as that some yong and smale philosophers of whiche men name Epycures that affermyn, Certayne it is that I shall feele nothyng. And also I am not afferde that suche philosophers so ded mockyn me nor of this myne oppinion. Aftir whiche I verily beleve that the soules be undedly.
[tr. Worcester/Worcester/Scrope (1481)]

And if it were not so, that after death I should feel nothing nor have any sense at all (as certain perrifoggers and bastard philosophers hold opinino) I fear not a whit least these lip-labourers and ideitical philosophers, when they themselves be dead, should scoff and make a mocking-stock at this mine assertion and belief, because they themselves shall also be without sense, and like to brute beasts.
[tr. Newton (1569)]

But if when I am dead (as some small Philosophers say) I shall feel nothing, I fear not least the dead Philosophers should laugh at this my error.
[tr. Austin (1648)]

If those who this Opinion have despis'd,
And their whole life to pleasure sacrific'd;
Should feel their error, they when undeceiv'd,
Too late will wish, that me they had believ'd.
[tr. Denham (1669)]

But if after this Life I shall no longer be sensible, as some little Philosophers imagine, then am I in no Fear that dead Philosophers will laugh at my mistaken Opinion.
[tr. J. D. (1744)]

And if, when dead, I should (as some minute Philosophers imagine) be deprived of all further Sense, I am safe at least in this, that those Blades themselves will have no Opportunity beyond the Grave to laugh at me for my Opinion.
[tr. Logan (1744)]

I have the satisfaction in the meantime to be assured that if death should utterly extinguish my existence, as some minute philosophers assert, the groundless hope I entertained of an after-life in some better state cannot expose me to the derision of these wonderful sages, when they and I shall be no more.
[tr. Melmoth (1773)]

But if (as certain super-subtle philosophers conclude) I shall feel nothing, I am not afraid lest these philosophers, when dead, should ridicule this error of mine.
[Cornish Bros. ed. (1847)]

But if I, when dead, shall have no consciousness, as some narrow-minded philosophers imagine, I do not fear lest dead philosophers should ridicule this my delusion.
[tr. Edmonds (1874)]

While if in death, as some paltry philosophers think, I shall have no consciousness, the dead philosophers cannot ridicule this delusion of mine.
[tr. Peabody (1884)]

But if when dead, as some insignificant philosophers think, I am to be without sensation, I am not afraid of dead philosophers deriding my errors.
[tr. Shuckburgh (1895)]

But if when dead;
As some philosophers of little note
Believe, I feel no more, there is no fear
These dead philosophers should mock me there.
[tr. Allison (1916)]

But if when dead I am going to be without sensation (as some petty philosophers think), then I have no fear that these seers, when they are dead, will have the laugh on me!
[tr. Falconer (1923)]

True, certain insignificant philosophers hold that I shall feel nothing after death. If so, then at least I need not fear that after their own deaths they will be able to mock my conviction!
[tr. Grant (1960, 1971 ed.)]

If on the other hand, as certain petty philosophers have held, I shall have no sensation when I am dead, then I need have no fear that deceased philosophers will make fun of this delusion of mine.
[tr. Copley (1967)]

Some second-rate philosophers suggest that when I am dead I will be conscious of nothing. But all that means is that, if I’m wrong, they won't be able to make fun of me after their death.
[tr. Cobbold (2012)]

But anyway, if when I die my spirit also dies, I certainly won't give a flip about the opinions of dead philosophers.
[tr. Gerberding (2014)]

If when I am dead I’ll have no sensation,
As some small philosophers think, I won’t fear
Accents of derision from their graves to hear.
[tr. Bozzi (2015)]

One sure way to lose another woman's friendship is to try to improve her husband.
(1955-12)

The quickest way to lose another woman's friendship is to endeavor to improve her husband, her children, or her flower arrangements.
(1959-05)

One sure way to lose another woman's friendship is to try to improve either her children or her flower arrangements.
(1961-07)

Modern men praise ancient things, and those that are here, things that are there. All that's past seems best, and all that's remote is most esteemed.
[Flesher ed. (1685)]

People of today praise things of yesterday, and those who are here, the things that are there. The past seems better, and everything distant is held more dear.
[tr. Maurer (1992)]

They of today glorify only things of yesterday, and those from here only the things from afar. Or that all that is past is better, and everything that is distant, more valuable.
[tr. Fischer (1937)]

Velox complains my epigrams are long,
When he writes none: he sings a shorter song.
[tr. Fletcher (c. 1650)]

You say my epigrams, Velox, too long are:
You nothing write; sure yours are shorter far.
[tr. Wright (1663)]

Of my long epigrams, you, Swift, complain;
And nothing write: I laud your shorter strain.
[tr. Elphinston (1782), Book 12, ep. 16, "To Velox, or Swift"]

You complain, Velox, that the epigrams which I write are long. You yourself write nothing; your attempts are shorter.
[tr. Bohn's Classical (1859)]

You complain, Velox, that I write long epigrams, you yourself write nothing. Yours are shorter.
[tr. Ker (1919)]

"Such lengthy epigrams," you say, "affright one."
True, yours are shorter, for you never write one.
[tr. Pott & Wright (1921)]

Velox, I make my epigrams too long, you snort?
You don't write any: That's making them too short.
[tr. Bovie (1970)]

Velox, you complain that I write long epigrams, and yourself write nothing. Do you make shorter ones?
[tr. Shackleton Bailey (1993)]

You say I write lines longer than I ought?
It's true your lines are shorter -- they are nought.
[tr. Wills (2007)]

You say my epigrams are too long.
Yours are shorter.
You write nothing.
[tr. Kennelly (2008), "Nothing"]

Swifty, you moan that I write long epigrams. You aren't writing anything yourself; is that you making shorter ones?
[tr. Nisbet (2015)]

My epigrams are word, you've complained;
But you write nothing. Yours are more restrained.
[tr. O'Connell]

“Much too long” you say, Velox, censorious,
Of my epigrams -- that’s quite uproarious.
You write none. Your brevity is glorious.
[tr. Schmidgall (2001)]

You call my epigrams verbose and lacking in concision
while you yourself write nothing. Wise decision.
[tr. Clark, "Short Enough?"]

My epigrams are wordy, you’ve complained;
But you write nothing. Yours are more restrained.
[tr. Oliver]

• "A painting in a museum hears more ridiculous opinions than anything else in the world."
• "What hears the most stupid remarks in the world is perhaps a painting in a museum." [Source]
• "Perhaps what hears the most nonsense in the world is a museum painting." [Source]

• "It is better to examine one's own faults than those of others." [tr. Freeman (1948)]
• "It is better to examine your own mistakes than those of others." [tr. Barnes (1987)]
• "It is better to rebuke familiar faults than foreign ones." [tr. @sententiq (2018)]
• "Rather examine your own faults than those of others." [Source]

And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye? Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye; and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye? Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye.
[KJV (1611)]

Why do you observe the splinter in your brother’s eye and never notice the plank in your own? How dare you say to your brother, “Let me take the splinter out of your eye”, when all the time there is a plank in your own? Hypocrite! Take the plank out of your own eye first, and then you will see clearly enough to take the splinter out of your brother’s eye.
[JB (1966)]

Why, then, do you look at the speck in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the log in your own eye? How dare you say to your brother, 'Please, let me take that speck out of your eye,' when you have a log in your own eye? You hypocrite! First take the log out of your own eye, and then you will be able to see clearly to take the speck out of your brother's eye.
[GNT (1976)]

Why do you see the splinter that’s in your brother’s or sister’s eye, but don’t notice the log in your own eye? How can you say to your brother or sister, ‘Let me take the splinter out of your eye,’ when there’s a log in your eye? You deceive yourself! First take the log out of your eye, and then you’ll see clearly to take the splinter out of your brother’s or sister’s eye.
[CEB (2011)]

Why do you see the speck in your neighbor’s eye but do not notice the log in your own eye? Or how can you say to your neighbor, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ while the log is in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your neighbor’s eye.
[NRSV (2021 ed.)]

Why seid Appius haue ye inclyned and revaled youre couragious hertys whiche til nowe were accustumyd to be ferme and stidfast. Be ye madd or for lak of discressyon agree ye for to condescend and desyre ye to make alliance and peas with kyng Pirrus bycause that he putteth in strength for to putt you downe and in subjection and wolde destroye yowe?
[tr. Worcester/Worcester/Scrope (1481)]

Why do your wits
And senses so rave?
What foolish conceit
Doth encumber your brain?
Where be the ripe judgments,
Which wont you were to have,
To agree to your country's
Ruin most plain?
[tr. Newton (1569)]

Whether now bend your minds, a headlong fall to bring,
Which heretofore had wont to stand, as straight as any thing.
[tr. Austin (1648)]

Whither now do you bend your Thoughts
Which, heretofore, were firm and resolute,
What! madly on your Ruin. ? --
[tr. J. D. (1744)]

What Frenzy now has your wild Minds possest?
You, who were first with sagest Counsels blest,
Your selves on sure Destruction thus to throw!
[tr. Logan (1744)]

Shall folly now that honoured Council sway,
Where sacred wisdom wont to point the way!
[tr. Melmoth (1773)]

Ah! wither have your minds demented turned themselves, wich heretofore were wont to stand erect?
[Cornish Bros. ed. (1847)]

Whither have your minds, which used to stand upright before, in folly turned away?
[tr. Edmonds (1874)]

Wont to stand firm, upon what devious way
Demented rush ye now?
[tr. Peabody (1884)]

Whither have swerved the souls so firm of yore?
Is sense grown senseless? Can feet stand no more?
[tr. Shuckburgh (1895)]

Where are the minds that used to stand serene,
where is the bravery that once has been?
[tr. Allison (1916)]

What is this madness that has turned your minds, until now firm and strong, from their course?
[tr. Grant (1960, 1971 ed.)]

Where are your minds? They always stood up straight till now! Are you mad? Where did you miss the road?
[tr. Copley (1967)]

Up until now your minds were straight and firm.
What bends them now onto this foolish path?
[tr. Cobbold (2012)]

How on earth could your mind
Once upright and dignified
Take a downturn and backslide?
[tr. Bozzi (2015)]

What madness has turned your minds, once firm and strong, from their course?
[tr. Freeman (2016)]

How much time and leisure doth he gain, who is not curious to know what his neighbour hath said, or hath done, or hath attempted, but only what he doth himself, that it may be just and holy?
[tr. Casaubon (1634), #15]

What a great deal of Time and Ease that Man gains who is not troubled with the Spirit of Curiosity: Who lets his Neighbor's Thoughts and Behavior alone, confines his Inspections to himself' And takes care of the Points of Honesty and Conscience.
[tr. Collier (1701)]

What agreeable leisure does he procure to himself, who takes no no¬ tice what others say, do, or intend; but attends to this only, that his own actions be just and holy?
[tr. Hutcheson/Moor (1742)]

How much time and leisure does that man gain, who is not curious to enquire what his neighbours say, or do, or think, but confines his whole attention to his own conduct, and is only solicitous to preserve that just and irreproachable.
[tr. Graves (1792)]

What a great deal of time and ease that man gains who lets his neighbor's words, thoughts, and behavior alone, confines his inspections to himself, and takes care that his own actions are honest and righteous.
[tr. Collier/Zimmern (1887)]

How much time he gains who does not look to see what his neighbor says or does or thinks, but only at what he does himself, to make it just and holy.
[tr. Morgan, in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations (1894)]

How much valuable time may be gained by not looking at what some neighbor says or does or thinks, but only taking care that our own acts are just and holy.
[tr. Rendall (1898 ed.)]

How much he gains in leisure who looks not to what his neighbours say, or do, or intend; but considers only how his own actions may be just and holy.
[tr. Hutcheson/Chrystal (1902)]

What richness of leisure does he gain who has no eye for his neighbour's words or deeds or thoughts, but only for his own doings, that they be just and righteous!
[tr. Haines (Loeb) (1916)]

How great a rest from labour he gains who does not look to what his neighbour says or does or thinks, but only to what he himself is doing, in order that exactly this may be just and holy, or in accord with a good man's conduct.
[tr. Farquharson (1944); he notes "The text is faulty and the sense obscure."]

He who ignores what his neighbour is saying or doing or thinking, and cares only that his own actions should be just and godly, is greatly the gainer in time and ease.
[tr. Staniforth (1964)]

What ease of mind he gains who casts no eye on what his neighbour says or does or thinks, but looks only to what he himself is doing, to ensure that his own action may be just, and holy, and good in every regard.
[tr. Hard (1997 ed.)]

The tranquility that comes when you stop caring what they say. Or think, or do. Only what you do. (Is this fair? Is this the right thing to do?)
[tr. Hays (2003)]

What ease of mind you gain from not looking at what your neighbour has said or done or thought, but only at your own actions, to make them just, reverential, imbued with good!
[tr. Hammond (2006)]

What an abundance of leisure the person gains who is not looking over at what his neighbor is saying, doing, or thinking, but only at what he himself is doing, in order that he does what is just and respectful of the gods.
[tr. Needleman/Piazza (2008)]

What ease of mind a person gains if he casts no eye on what his neighbour has said, done, or thought, but looks only to what he himself is doing, to ensure that his own action may be just, and holy, and good in every respect.
[tr. Hard (2011 ed.)]

What ease of mind a person gains when he keeps his eye not on what his neighbor has said or done or thought but only on what he himself does, to ensure that it is just or holy or matches what a good person does.
[tr. Gill (2013)]

To determine the true rulers of any society, all you must do is ask yourself this question: Who is it that I am not permitted to criticize?

The more deale of us Poets, both the olde, and younge most parte,
Are ofte begylde by shewe of good, affectinge to muche arte.
I laboure to be verye breife, it makes me verye harde.
I followe flowinge easynes, my style is clearely marde
For lacke of pith and saverye sence, Write loftie, thou shalte swell:
He creepes by the grounde to lowe, afrayde with stormie vayne to mell.
He that in varyinge one pointe muche would bringe forth monstruouse store,
Would make the dolphin dwell in wooddes and in the flud the bore.
The shunning of a faulte is such that now and then it will
Procure a greater faulte, if it be not eschewde by skill.
[tr. Drant (1567)]

The greater part, that boast the Muses fire
Father, and sons right worthy of your Sire,
Are with the likenesse of the truth beguil'd:
My selfe for shortnesse labour, and am stil'd
Obscure. Another striving smooth to runne,
Wants strength, and sinewes, as his spirits were done;
His Muse professing height, and greatnesse, swells;
Downe close by shore, this other creeping steales,
Being over-safe, and fearing of the flaw:
So he that varying still affects to draw
One thing prodigiously, paints in the woods
A Dolphin and a Boare amidst the floods:
The shunning vice, to greater vice doth lead,
If in th'escape an artlesse path we tread.
[tr. Jonson (1640), l. 33ff]

Most Poets fall into the grossest faults,
Deluded by a seeming Excellence:
By striving to be short, they grow Obscure,
And when they would write smoothly they want strength,
Their Spirits sink; while others that affect,
A lofty Stile, swell to a Tympany;
Some timerous wretches start at every blast,
And fearing Tempests, dare not leave the Shore.
Others in love with wild variety,
Draw Boars in Waves, and Dolphins in a Wood;
Thus fear of Erring, joyn'd with want of Skill,
Is a most certain way of Erring still.
[tr. Roscommon (1680)]

But oft, our greatest errors take their rise
From our best views. I strive to be concise;
I prove obscure. My strength, my fire decays,
When in pursuit of elegance and ease.
Aiming at greatness, some to fustian soar;
Some in cold safety creep along the shore,
Too much afraid of storms; while he, who tries
With ever-varying wonders to surprise,
In the broad forest bids his dolphins play,
And paints his boars disporting in the sea.
Thus, injudicious, while one fault we shun,
Into its opposite extreme we run.
[tr. Francis (1747)]

Lov'd sire! lov'd sons, well worthy such a sire!
Most bards are dupes to beauties they admire.
Proud to be brief, for brevity must please,
I grow obscure; the follower of ease
Wants nerve and soul; the lover of sublime
Swells to bombast; while he who dreads that crime,
Too fearful of the whirlwind rising round,
A wretched reptile, creeps along the ground.
The bard, ambitious fancies who displays,
And tortures one poor thought a thousand ways,
Heaps prodigies on prodigies; in woods
Pictures the dolphin, and the boar in floods!
Thus ev'n the fear of faults to faults betrays,
Unless a master-hand conduct the lays.
[tr. Coleman (1783)]

The great majority of us poets, father, and youths worthy such a father, are misled by the appearance of right. I labor to be concise, I become obscure: nerves and spirit fail him, that aims at the easy: one, that pretends to be sublime, proves bombastical: he who is too cautious and fearful of the storm, crawls along the ground: he who wants to vary his subject in a marvelous manner, paints the dolphin in the woods, the boar in the sea. The avoiding of an error leads to a fault, if it lack skill.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]

Ye worthy trio! we poor sons of song
Oft find 'tis fancied right that leads us wrong.
I prove obscure in trying to be terse;
Attempts at ease emasculate my verse;
Who aims at grandeur into bombast falls;
Who fears to stretch his pinions creeps and crawls;
Who hopes by strange variety to please
Puts dolphins among forests, boars in seas.
Thus zeal to 'scape from error, if unchecked
By sense of art, creates a new defect.
[tr. Conington (1874)]

We poets, most of us, by the pretence,
Dear friends, are duped of seeming excellence.
We grow obscure in striving to be terse;
Aiming at ease, we enervate our verse;
For grandeur soaring, into bombast fall,
And, dreading that, like merest reptiles crawl;
Whilst he, who seeks his readers to surprise
With common things shown in uncommon wise,
Will make his dolphins through the forests roam.
His wild boars ride upon the billows' foam.
So unskilled writers, in their haste to shun
One fault, are apt into a worse to run.
[tr. Martin (1881)]

The greater part of us poets, O ye Father and Sons worthy of your parent, deceive ourselves under our illusion of what is right. I strive to write briefly, and so write obscurely. Compositions of a smooth nature argue a writer's deficiency both in force and spirit. An attempt at great subjects swells into bombast. A too cautious writer, and dreader of opposition, confines himself to common things. One who desires to amplify a single theme in an extravagant way, puts a dophin innto a wood, and a wild boar into the sea. The avoidance of one error, if unguarded by art, leads to another.
[tr. Elgood (1893)]

Most of us poets are misled by insistence upon our idea of what is right. I try to be brief and I become obscure; aiming at smoothness, we lose in vigor and spirit; attempting the sublime, we become turgid. Timid of the storm, we crawl along the ground. Thus if one lacks art, the over careful avoidance of one fault leads to another.
[tr. Dana/Dana (1911)]

Most of us poets, O father and ye sons worthy of the father, deceive ourselves by the semblance of truth. Striving to be brief, I become obscure. Aiming at smoothness, I fail in force and fire. One promising grandeur, is bombastic; another, overcautious and fearful of the gale, creeps along the ground. The man who tries to vary a single subject in monstrous fashion, is like a painter adding a dolphin to the woods, a boar to the waves. Shunning a fault may lead to error, if there be lack of art.
[tr. Fairclough (Loeb) (1926)]

Most of us poets -- O father, and sons worthy of your father, -- are misled by our idea of what is correct. I try to be terse, and end by being obscure; another strives after smoothness, to the sacrifice of vigour and spirit; a third aims at grandeur, and drops into bombast; a fourth, through an excess of caution and fear of squalls, goes creeping along the ground. He who is bent on lending variety to a theme that is by nature uniform, so as to produce an unnatural effect, is like a man who paints a dolphin in a forest or a wild boar in the waves. If artistic feeling is not there, mere avoidance of a fault leads to some worse defect.
[tr. Blakeney; ed. Kramer, Jr. (1936)]

O father, and sons who deserve a father like yours,
We poets are too often tricked into trying to achieve
A particular kind of perfection: I studiously try
To be brief, and become obscure; I try to be smooth,
And my vigor and force disappear; another assures us
Of something big which turns out to be merely pompous.
Another one crawls on the ground because he's too safe,
Too much afraid of the storm. The poet who strives
To vary his single subject in wonderful ways
Paints dolphins in woods and foaming boars on the waves.
Avoiding mistakes, if awkwardly done, leads to an error.
[tr. Palmer Bovie (1959)]

Most poets, father and young men deserving such a father,
go wrong in trying to be right: I struggle for concision,
I wind up being obscure; others try for smoothness
and lose strength, or for sublimit, and get gas.
One poet, too cautious, fears storms and craws along,
the other craves bizarre variety in a single subject
and paints a dolphin in a forest, a boar among the waves.
Fear of criticism leads to faults if we lack art.
[tr. Fuchs (1977)]

Most poets, leaders and led,
Chase a will-o’-the-wisp of abstract Right.
Thus:
I aim
at concision,
I hit
on darkness.
I aim to be smooth, my lines go slack.
The eloquent idealist rants and raves,
The timid, the gutless, crawl like beetles,
Seekers after novelty hang dolphins in trees,
Float a boar in the sea:
O rare effects!
O marvelous.
Ugh.
[tr. Raffel (1983 ed.)]

Father and worthy sons, we poets often
Know what we're aiming at, and often we miss.
I try my best to be terse, and I'm obscure;
I try for mellifluous smoothness, smooth as can be,
And the line comes out as spineless as a worm;
One poet, aiming for grandeur, booms and blusters;
Another one, scared, creeps his way under the storm;
And another, desiring to vary his single theme
In wonderful ways, produces not wonders but monsters --
Dolphins up in the trees, pigs in the ocean.
If you don't know what you're doing you can go wrong
Just out of trying to do your best to do right.
[tr. Ferry (2001)]

Poets in the main (I’m speaking to a father and his excellent sons)
are baffled by the outer form of what’s right. I strive to be brief,
and become obscure; I try for smoothness, and instantly lose
muscle and spirit; to aim at grandeur invites inflation;
excessive caution or fear of the wind induces groveling.
The man who brings in marvels to vary a simple theme
is painting a dolphin among the trees, a boar in the billows.
Avoiding a fault will lead to error if art is missing.
[tr. Rudd (2005 ed.)]

Most poets (dear sir, and you sons worthy of your sire),
Are beguiled by accepted form. I try to be brief
And become obscure: aiming at smoothness I fail
In strength and spirit: claiming grandeur he’s turgid:
Too cautious, fearing the blast, he crawls on the ground:
But the man who wants to distort something unnaturally
Paints a dolphin among the trees, a boar in the waves.
Avoiding faults leads to error, if art is lacking.
[tr. Kline (2015)]

For it is the property of Folly, to look upon other mens Failings, and to forget their own.
[tr. Wase (1643)]

For it is the peculiar characteristic of folly to discover the vices of others, forgetting its own.
[tr. Main (1824)]

For it is the peculiar characteristic of folly to perceive the vices of others, but to forget its own.
[tr. Yonge (1853)]

It is the peculiar quality of a fool to perceive the faults of others and to forget his own.
[Source (1882)]

It is the property of folly to see the faults of others, to forget its own.
[tr. Peabody (1886)]

This is just how foolish people behave: they observe the faults of others and forget their own.
[tr. Graver (2002)]

It is a trait of fools to perceive the faults of others but not their own.

Three weeks after the US entered WW I.

The wise man draws more advantage from his Enemies, than the fool does from his Friends.
[Flesher ed. (1685)]

To a wise man, his enemies avail him more, than to a fool, his friends.
[tr. Fischer (1937)]

The wise person finds enemies more useful than the fool finds friends.
[tr. Maurer (1992)]

• To escape criticism -- do nothing, say nothing, be nothing.
• To avoid unkind criticism: do nothing, say nothing, be nothing.
• There is only one way to avoid criticism: do nothing, say nothing and be nothing.

Children have more need of models than of critics.
[tr. Attwell (1896), ¶ 261]

Children need models rather than critics.
[tr. Lyttelton (1899), ch. 18, ¶ 1]

Children. Need models more than critics.
[tr. Auster (1983), 1800 entry]