Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

BOOK FOUR
* LXXVI
A MULTIPLICA.TION SUM
I ASKED you a loan of one hundred to send,
But you say that you only have fifty to lend.
Well, now in the future I know what to do;
When I want just a hundred, I'll ask you for two.
LXXVII
ON ZOIL US
CONTENTED with my little store,
I've never asked the gods for more;
Now, Poverty, retire.
Why have I grown so covetous?
Because I know that Zoilus
Will hang himself for ire.
* LXXVIII
TO A FER
YOUR sixtieth summer has passed, you old frisker,
And your cheeks are snow-white with a forest of whisker,
But yet you go gadding all over the city,
And at each sedan-chair every morning are witty.
When a tribune appears, you are sure to attend him,
If a consul comes out, then your escort you lend him;
Ten times to the palace you climb the steep hill,
And your talk is of nothing but chamberlains still.
Young men may behave in this fashion no doubt;
But there's nothing looks worse than an old gadabout.
* LXXIX
TO MA THO
OF my villa at Tibur you now are possessed,
And reside in the house where you oft were a guest.
You have bought it from me and have paid thel cash down:
Well, you're gulled; what you've bought was already your
own.
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