Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

BOOK FOUR
XXVII
ON A JEALOUS RIVAL
CAESAR, I know you often praise
My books-and will it change your wont
That yonder jealous rascal says
You don't?
If rumoured words his anger stir,
His envious wrath must rise anew
At boons no other could confer,
Save you.
He gnaws his grimy nails for spite,
Just watch him turning livid green;
Grant me fresh bounties to excite
His spleen.
* XXVIII
TO CHLOE
You give Spanish cloaks to Lupercus as hire,
Their wool dyed in scarlet and purple of Tyre,
And a toga new dipped in Galesus' warm tide,
Sardonyx from India and emeralds beside,
And a hundred new sovereigns fresh from the mint;
Whatever he asks for you grant without stint.
His skin may be smooth and his cheeks may be fair;
But your stripling Lupercus will soon strip you bare.
XXIX
TO PUDENS
THEIR wealth has wrought my verses harm,
Their sated reader yawns and dozes;
'Tis rarity gives books their charm,
Like early fruits or winter roses.
Let mistresses be coy and hard,
And men will spend their all to win them;
If doors are never shut and barred
They cannot draw young love within them.
I15