Catullus 14

Unless I love you more than my own eyes, most pleasant Calvus, I would hate you for that gift with Vatianan hatred: for what have I done or what have I said that you ruin me badly with so many poets? May the gods give many evils to that client who sent you so many soundrels. But if, as I suspect, Sulla the schoolteacher gave you this newly discovered gift , it is not bad for me but good and blessed, because your labors are not for nothing. Great gods, (what a) horrible and detestable little book! Which you clearly sent to your Catullus to kill (him) this very day, the Saturnalia, best of days! No, witty one, this will not escape you so. For, if it becomes light, I will run to the stalls of the booksellers; I will collect Caesii, Aquini, Suffenus—all the poisons—and I will pay you back for these punishments. You, meanwhile, goodbye, get away from here to this place from where you bore (your) evil foot, misfortunes of (our) age, worst poets.