Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

BOOK TWELVE

LXVIII
A WARNING TO HIS SPANISH FRIENDS
I FLED from Rome and early calls,
So, Spanish friends, I pray you,
Be wise and seek the lordly halls
Of those who can repay you.
I hate the courts, and legal strife
My lazy mind refuses,
For I am getting on in life
And love to serve the Muses;
Unbroken sleep I love; the stir
And din of Rome destroy it;
But I am going back to her
If here I can't enjoy it.
* LXIX
TO PA UL US
YOUR friends are like your pictures and your wine:
All three are old and all are genuine.
* LXX
FORCED SOBRIETY
WHEN his bath-towel by one bow-legged servant was carried,
And a one-eyed old crone watched his gown while he tarried,
And he got his scant oil from a ruptured masseur,
Then Afer could never potations endure;
And if he saw any one drinking would say'Smash the bottle and throw the vile liquor away'.
But since he's been left his old uncle's estate,
I am told from the baths he can seldom walk straight.
Chaliced cups and five slaves have more charm than you think:
While Afer was poor he'd no fancy for drink.
* LXXI
TO L YGD US
THERE is nothing you do not deny me to-day:
Yet once there was nothing to which you said nay.
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