When I had determined to put an end to my labours, with the view that there might be material enough left for others, in my mind I silently condemned my resolve. For even if there is any one desirous of the like fame, how will he guess what it is I have omitted, so as to wish to hand down that same to posterity; since each man has a turn of thinking of his own, and a tone peculiar to himself.
It was not, therefore, any fickleness, but assured grounds, that set me upon writing again. Wherefore, Particulo, as you are amused by Fables (which I will style “Æsopian,” not “those of Æsop;” for whereas he published but few, I have brought out a great many, employing the old style, but with modern subjects), now at your leisure you shall peruse a Fourth Book. If envy shall choose to carp at it, so long as it cannot imitate, why let it carp.
I have gained glory enough, in that you, and others like to you, have quoted my words in your writings, and have thought me worthy of being long remembered. Why should I stand in need of the applause of the illiterate?