dic tamen, unde alia mihi fronte et nubila vultus? anne quod Euboicos fessus remeare penates auguror et patria senium componere terra? cur hoc triste tibi? certe lascivia corde nulla nec aut rabidi mulcent te proelia Circi aut intrat sensus clamosi turba theatri, sed probitas et opaca quies et sordida numquam gaudia.
But say, why do I see your brow changed, your face in cloud? Is it because in my weariness I propose to return to my Euboean home and settle my old age in my native land? Why does this make you sad? For of a certainty you have no frolicking at heart, no contests of the crazy Circus have charm for you, you are deaf to the crowd of the noisy theater; virtue is for you and sheltered peace and joys never vulgar.
final_alignments\Statius_Silvae_Book3.json