Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

BOOK TEN
XIII
TO COTTA
A CARRIAGE bears your pampered horde along,
A Libyan toils behind to guard the throng,
Your rooms are strewn with couches everywhere,
You stain the very sea with unguents rare,
Fine vintages your crystal goblets crown,
And Venus lies not on a softer down;
Yet at the threshold of a haughty fair
All night you lie-she heeds not tear or prayerSighs rend your heart-I know beyond a doubt
What's wrong-you never learned to do without.
* XIV
THE PROOF OF FRIENDSHIP
You say you're my friend, but you never will lend
E'en a trifle: it's always ' No, No '!
Your coffers are brimming, your Nile-fields are swimming
With plenty, while I hungry go.
When winter draws nigh do you ever supply
Me with gown, or a fat present make?
No proof can I find of your friendship but wind:
And that in my face you will break.
* XV
THE CAREFUL LOVER
FROM Cupid Afer stole a dart
And with it pierced a maiden's heart.
It's true her dowry fanned love's flame;
But then friend Afer knows the game.
* XVI
TO GAIUS
IF ' promise' and 'give' mean exactly the same,
Though you never hand over, I'll play your own game.
Please accept all the ore of Asturia's mines
And the rich golden sand that old Tagus refines,
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