University of Virginia Library

Lib. 10.

Liber ad Lectorem, Epig. 1.

If I seem of a tedious length to thee,
Read but a few, I will a manual be,
My Page in three or four short lines shall cease,
{Mak}e mee as brief as may thy fancy please.

Ad eundem, Epig. 2.

My tenth Book's care once hast'ned from my hand
Is now revok'd againe to be new scann'd,
Part hath been publick, but they new smooth'd are,
O favour both, the last's the greater share.
Reader, these riches when Rome gave to mee,
Shee said no greater we can give to thee.
By these thou shalt escape oblivion,
And live in thy best part when thou art gone.
The Fig-tree may Messala's Marble weare,
And base Mule-drivers Crispus Statues jeare,
No theft can papers hurt, no age thrust by,
These Monuments alone can never dye.

In maledicum Poetam, Epig. 5.

Who so by impious verse in all the Towne
Scandals the Senators or Matrons gown,
Which rather ought be worshipp'd: Let him bee
Bannish'd through all the seats of beggerie.
And let him from the Dogs bespeak their meat,
Be his December long, his winter wet,
Let his shut Vault prolong the frost most sad,
And let him cry such happy that are dead
On hellish-bedsteads carried to their grave,
And when his last threds their fulfilling have,
And the slow day shall come, ô let him see
Himself the strife of Dogs, and his limbes bee
The prey of ravenous Birds, nor let his pains
End in the simple crack of his heart's veins,
But feeling the strict doom of Æacus,
One while let him relieve old Sisyphus,
Then scortch in Tantalus his dry desire,
And all the fables of the Poets tyre,
And when the truth the Furies shall demand,
May his false conscience cry this was the hand.

De Paulla, Epig. 8.

Paulla thou needs would'st marry mee
When thou art old and tough:
I cannot: yet I'de venture thee
Wert thou but old enough.

In Calliodorem, Epig. 11.

(Calliodore) there's no other talk with thee
But Theseus and Perithous: And would'st bee
Conceiv'd like Pylades. But let mee dye
If thou deserv'st to hold a Mallet by
To Pylades, or feed Perithous Swine,
Yet thou sayst thou hast serv'd some friends of thine
With twice five Millions, and a Coat thrice wore,
What? as if sweet Orestes gave no more
At any time to his dear friend? why hee
That giveth much, not all, doth more denie.

Ad Crispum, Epig. 14.

Crispus thou say'st thou art best friend to mee,
But how you'le make it good I ask let's see?
When I desired ten pieces, 'twas denyed,
Though that thy Chest could not thy coyne bestride,
When didst thou send me one peck of bean meale?
When thou didst reap thy fields by fruitfull Nile?
In winter frosts when did a short Coat come?
Or one half pound of silver in a sum?
I see not how thou my familiar art,
But that before me thou art wont to fart.

In Cajum, Epig. 16.

(Cajus) if promises be all thy gifts,
I'le overcome thee in thy bounteous shifts.
Take all th'Asturian Digs in Spanish fields,
And all the Ore that golden Tagus yields,
What ere the Indian finds in the Sea weed,
And what the Phœnix in her Nest hath hid,
Take all great Tyros cloath of richest dy,
Take all men have: O how thy gifts doe fly!

De M. Antonio, Epig. 23.

Happy Antonius in a pleasant age
Hath seen fifteen Olympiads on Earth's stage:
Looks back on his pass'd dayes and safer years
With joy, nor at his near grave shrinks or fears.
No day's ingrate or sad to think upon,
Nor doth he blush to mention any gone,
A good man doubles his life's date: For hee
Lives twice, that can his age with comfort see.

In Calliodorum, Epig. 31.

Thou for three hund'red pence thy man didst sell,
(Callidore) that thou might'st but once sup well.
Nor didst that neither: For afour pound fish
Was the crown of thy feast, and thy chief dish,
Pase wretch this is not fish we justly can
Exclaim, tis man, thou dost devoure a man.

De Imagine M. Antonio ad Cæditianum, Epig. 32.

This draught adorn'd with Rose-buds which you see,
Whose Picture is't (Cæditian) ask'st thou mee?
Such was Mark Antoni in his prime years,
When old such was his unchanged look and hairs,
O would that Art his minde and parts could draw,
A fairer portraicture earth never saw!

In Lesbiam, Epig. 39.

Lesbia why dost thou swear
That thou wast born that year
When Brutus was made Consull? tis a lye.
Thy Mother brought thee forth her womb
When Numa reigned first in Rome,
And so again thou dost the truth deny.
For thy long dated ages seem to say
Thou wast produced from Prometheus clay.

Ad Philerotem, Epig. 43.

Thy seaventh wife now lyes buried in the field,
Thy ground more gain than any mans doth yield.

Ad Julium Martialem, Epig. 47.

Most pleasant Martial these are they
That make the happyer life and day,
Means not sweat for, but resign'd,
Fire without end, fields still in kinde,
No strife, no office, inward peace,
Free strength, a body sans disease,
A prudent plainesse, equal friends,
Cheap Cates, not scraped from the world's ends,
A night not drown'd, but free from care,
Sheets never sad, and yet chast are,
Sleep that makes short the shades of night,
Art such thou would'st be, if there might
A choice be offer'd, nor dost fear
Nor wish thy last dayes exit here.

Epitaphium nobilis Matronæ, Epig. 63.

Behold these little Marble stones
Which veile not to those mighty ones
Of Cæsar, nor the Carian pride:
Terentus twice my life hath try'd,
And twas sincere to my last end.
Five Boyes great Juno did me send,
And just as many Girles as those
Whose hands my dying eyes did close.
And this rare glory happ'ned more to mee,
One prick was privy to my chastitie.

Epitaphium vetulæ. Epig. 67.

Here Pyrrha's Daughter, Nestor's Mother in Law,
Whom youthful Noibe in gray hairs saw,
Whom old Laertes did his Beldame name,
Great Priam's Nurse, Thyestes wive's grandam,
Surviver to all nine lived Dawes are gone,
Old Plotia with her bald Melanthion
Lyes itching here at last under this stone.

De Phillide, Epig. 81.

Two men betimes came Phillida to swive,
And strove which of them first the feat should doe,
She promised both, to both her self to give,
Did it, one stole her gown, th'other her shooe.

Ad Cæcilianum, Epig. 84.

Dost wonder Afer cannot sleep? dost see
What a sweet faced companion hath hee?

In Ligellam, Epig. 90.

Why dost thou reach thy Merkin now half dust?
Why dost provoke the ashes of thy lust?
Girles such lasciviousnesse doth best beseem,
For thou art pass'd old woman in esteem.
That trick (Ligella) suites not, credit mee,
With Hecuba, but young Andromache.
Thou err'st, if this a C--- thou dar'st to call
To which no Prick doth now belong at all,
If thou cann'st blush Ligella, be afear'd
To pull a deceas'd Lyon by the beard.

De Numa, Epig. 97.

While they the Funeral charge prepare
Which in the paper piles placed are,
And Numa's weeping wife now buyes
Sweet perfumes for his Obsequies,
His Grave and Beere being ready made,
And one to wash his body dead,
And me left Heire by his own Pen,
Pox on him! he grew well agen.