Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

MARTIAL'S EPIGRAMS

* XXXV
TO CALLISTRATUS
As though you were really the frankest of men
You talk of your amours, the how, why and when.
You are not as frank as you'ld have me believe,
For a lad who says so much hides more up his sleeve.
XXXVI
TO A STINGY PATRON
BECAUSE you send a needy friend a pound of plate-or lessA coat threadbare or cape to wear-is that free-handedness?
Because a few gold pieces too (how pleasantly they chink)
You sometimes sent-'tis two months' rent-you're liberal,
you think:
The rest, 'tis true, give less than you, but generous you are
not,
What are you then? 'Mid meaner men the best of a bad lot;
Piso I knew, and Crispus too, while yet their fortune stood,
Compared with such you would be much the worst of all the
good;
Let any steed who boasts of speed our thoroughbreds outpace:
'Tis small applause you get because you win a donkey-race!
* XXXVII
THE CRITICAL SENSE
WHEN we say of a critic-' What wonderful flair'
We don't to his out-size in noses refer.
* XXXVIII
TO CANDID US
THERE'S a fellow just now too well-known about town,
Whom in sedan-chairs we see borne up and down,
With hair black and oily, in bright purple dressed,
Smooth legs, wanton eyes, and a broad hairless breast.
You might think with your wife he some mischief will plan:
But you need not be frightened-he is not a man.
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