bet at one point to see who could write the most. Horace doesn't say who won but does comment that Crispinus tends to puff like a bellows (in other words, he blows a lot of hot air!). Finally, Horace remarks that Fannius had enough ego to donate his own manuscripts and a picture of himself to a library so that his work (and its author) would always be remembered. Poets are quite a silly crowd, Horace implies, but he is not above including himself in that group.

The poet then moves on to an explanation of why most people don't like satirical poetry: it hits too close to home! Those who are crooks and who give into their vices don't want to hear about it! They want to go on being vicious in peace without the poets reminding them that they are doing wrong. So they insult the poet who calls out their behavior, saying “He has hay on his horn, avoid him at a great distance.” In other words, to wrong-doers, the poet is like an angry bull ready to charge them down, and they need to run as fast as they can in the other direction!

Horace, with a somewhat playful humility, then notes that he really isn't talented enough to be called a poet in any case. He is no genius, he says, and even his chosen form is more like prose than poetry. Yet there is a reason he writes as he does, and really, his railing against vice is no different that that found in the popular plays of his day. Horace has set himself to accuse scoundrels wherever they may be found, and if men live honest, clean lives, they have no reason to fear him (not that they do anyway, he remarks, for no bookshop even carries his books!).

The poet continues by reminding his audience that all people need to be on guard against rogues, those who lie and backbite and betray. These are dangerous men, and all Horace does in his poetry is expose them for what they are. What is so wrong with that? Why shouldn't he speak the truth about evil and stupidity? Such is the poet's duty. Besides, Horace adds, he learned such practices from his father, who taught him morality by pointing out the bad examples (and the worse ends) of other men. Awareness of such corruption deters others from following the same path. Horace (again, probably with a bit of self-deprecating humor) declares that he is free of the vices his father (and now his poetry) always railed against, although he does have lesser foibles, including writing poetry! So his readers will just have to excuse his bad habit, or better yet, perhaps he can convince them to adopt his view of the necessity of satire.