Flesh and Bone

From an essay that supposedly is going to be on Virgil eventually but so far he’s just talking about how when he was young he had to try hard to not be a dumbass but now that he’s old he’s a dumbass on purpose, and then—

My bad translation:

Sombre and stupid tranquility is enough for me, but it bores and brains me; I can’t be contented. If there is someone, some good company, in the country, in the city, in France or elsewhere, homebody or traveler, to whom my humours seem good, and whose humours seem to me good, they have only to whistle, and I will bring them essays of flesh and bone.

Essays of flesh and bone!!!!