Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

MARTIAL'S EPIGRAMS

And though no Attis here shall spout smooth doggerel-you
know it?
'Tis sound with all the sense left out-am I so vile a poet?
What if one bade a runner try contortions acrobatic?
Ask Ladas this, and his reply methinks will be emphatic.
A silly task it is to make all difficulties double,
And foolery for fooling's sake is merely wasted trouble.
Such tricks let dull Palaemon do, his dullards entertaining,
And let me please the chosen few whose ear is worth the
gaining.
* LXXXVII
TO SEXTUS
You pretend for your kisses the girls are athirst,
With your cheeks, like a diver's, just ready to burst.
* LXXXVIII
TO.MA MERCUS
You never recite, though you pose as a poet.
Well, for that many thanks: we will gladly forgo it.
* LXXXIX
TO GA URUS
I CAN pardon your habit of spending the night
O'er the wine-cup; for Cato in that did delight.
And though with your verses the Muses you sully,
I praise them; for here you take pattern by Tully.
When you vomit, you do as Mark Antony did;
And your greed by Apicius' shadow is hid.
But when you indulge in your beastliest tricks,
To find you a model I'm quite in a fix.
XC
TO QUINTILIAN
GUIDE of our wayward youth, whose golden tongue
Is Rome's delight and boast, if I am wrong
In making haste to live whilst poor and young,
Forgive me; others dally all too long,
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