Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

BOOK SEVEN

So to escape these toils he feigned the gout,
But, fearing lest his patron found him out,
With drugs he smeared and bandaged both his feet,
And crawled with dragging footsteps down the street;
So well he feigned disease, when he had not it,
That now he shams no more; for he has got it.
* XL
ON THE TOMIB OF CLAUDIUS ETRUSCUS
AND HIS WIFE
HERE lies the sage, long in the palace known,
Who bore the Emperor's favour and his frown
Undaunted. By their children's love at rest
Husband and wife are of one grave possessed.
She died in youth, robbed of her life's spring bloom;
The father to his ninetieth year did come.
Yet all who see his children's tears believe
That they for one untimely taken grieve.
XLI
THE CITIZEN OF THE WORLD
You boast 'The world's my country! ' Be it so;
It takes all sorts to make a world you know!
XLII
TO CASTRICUS
WHO can dispute with you the meed
For tuneful verse or noble deed?
Not I, who readily concede
The palm;
'Tis ease and quiet I pursue'Then why send feeble verses? ' True,
Yet coals to Newcastle can do
No harm.:209

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