The Elegies of Tibullus, indirectly translated by someone who does not read Latin:
The hour does not call for less wine, I think. Let’s pit pain against the grape and see which puts paid to which. Let me sleep. Let’s all sleep. Delia’s husband has locked all the doors to the house. I call that surly. I call that churlish. I hope lightning strikes him everywhere. Him and his doors.
