Lib. 11.
Ad Lectores, Epig. 2.
Sad looks, and rigid Cato's stricter brow,
And course Fabricius Daughter from the plough,
Disguised pride, manners by rule put on,
And what we are not in the dark, begon.
My verses Iô Saturnalia cry,
And (Nerva) under thee 'tis liberty.
De suis Libellis, Epig. 4.
My lines are not alone delighted here,
Nor doe I spend them on the idle eare,
But by the sowre Centurion they are lost
Under his ensignes in the Getick frost.
And Brittain's said my verse to sing: But what
Can thence accrew? my purse ne're hears of that.
What never dying Papers could I write?
And glorious wars in a rich strain Indite!
Should Heaven Augustus once again revive,
And Rome to me a sweet Mæcenas give!
Ad Romam, Epig. 7.
In Sythe-crown'd Saturn's Feasts, wherein
The box of Dice doth reign as King,
All-cover'd Rome thou dost permit
Me now to sport my fluent wit,
So I suppose, for thou did'st smile,
Thence we are not forbid the while.
Ye pallid cares far hence begon,
I'le speak what ere I think upon,
Sans any studied delay,
So fill me out three cups my Boy,
Such as Pithagoras did give
To Nero when he here did live,
But (Dindymus) fill faster too,
For sober I can nothing doe.
When I am drunck up to the height
Full fifteen Poets seize me streight.
Now give me kisses, such as were
Catullus his and if they are
So numerous as his are said to bee,
I will Catullus Sparrow give to thee.
Epitaphium Paridis, Epig. 14.
Thou that beat'st the Flaminian way
Passe not this Noble Tombe but stay,
Here Rome's delight, and Nile's salt treasure,
Art, Graces, Sport, and sweetest Pleasure,
The grief and glory of the Stage,
And all the Cupids of the Age,
And all the Uenusses lye here
Interr'd in Paris Sepulcher.
De Libro suo, Epig. 16.
I have such papers that grim Cato's wife
May read, and strictest Sabines in their life.
I will this Book should laugh throughout and jest,
And be more wicked than are all the rest,
And sweat with wine, and with rich unguents flow,
And sport with Boyes, and with the wenches too;
Nor by Periphrasis describe that thing
That common Parent whence we all doe spring;
Which Sacred Numa once a Prick did call.
Yet still suppose these verses Saturnal.
(O my Apollinaris) this my book
Has no dissembled manners, no feign'd look.
Ad Lupum, Epig. 19.
(Lupus) thou gavest a Farm in Rome to mee,
A larger through my loop-hole I can see,
But canst thou this a Living call or prove?
Which one poor sprig of Rue shades like a Grove?
Which one sly Grashopper's wing hides all ore?
And which an Ant can in a day devoure?
Which with a Rose-leaf may be crown'd,
In which a larger herb cannot be found
Than a small Pepper-blade that's newly sprung?
In which a Cucumer can't lye along?
Nor Serpent safely dwell unlesse half seen?
The Garden scarce a Cancker-worm can dine,
The wood consumed it starves a single Moth,
A Mole's my laborer and Plough-man both,
A Mushroom cannot blow in't, nor a Rush
Smile, nor sweet Violets their heads forth push.
A Mouse layes wast the bounds by the Farmer more
Is fear'd than was the Caladonian Bore.
The Herbage in a Swallow's foot at best
Is carryed at a burden to her Nest.
Nor can Priapus when hee's but half man'd
Without a prick or sickle in it stand.
The gathered Crop will scarce a Snails house fill,
The Vintage may be housed in a Nut-shell.
(Lupus) thou err'dst but in a
single letter,
For when thou gavest mee this thou hadst done better
To have invited mee—to dine with thee.
In Gallam, Epig. 20.
Galla dost ask why thee I will not take
In marriage bonds to joyn with mee?
Thou art too eloquent I see.
My Prick doth oft a Solæcisme make.
In Pædiconem masturbantem, Epig. 23.
Cause thou dost kisse thy Boyes soft lips with thy
Rough chin, and with strip'd Ganimede dost lye,
Who does deny thee this? tis well. At least
Frig not thy self with thy lascivious fist,
This in light toyes more than the Prick offends,
Their fingers hasten and the man up sends,
Hence Goatish rancknesse, suddain hairs, a beard
Springs forth to wondring Mothers much admired.
Nor doe they please by day when in the Bath
They wash their skins. Nature divided hath
The males: Half to the Girles born to be shown,
The other half to men: Use then thy own.
In Silam, Epig. 24.
Sila's prepared to marry mee
On any score what ere it bee.
But I shall put by Sila still;
Be the condition what it will.
Yet when she needs would fasten hold
Give me cryd I in ready gold
Ten hundred thousand sesterties
In dowry: For what can be less?
Nor will I swive thee though it bee
Our very first nights jollitie.
Nor shall my Couch or Pallat lye
In common both to thee and I.
And when my Hand-maid I embrace
Thou shalt not dare to make a face.
But if thine too I doe command
She shall be sent me out of hand.
My wanton Boy my lips most sweet
Shall smack though thou art by to see't.
It makes no matters whether he
My Boy or else thy Eunuch bee.
And when thou dost to supper come
Thou shall sit in a distant room:
That my Mantle take no smutch
From thy courser garments touch.
And when thy kisses I receive
It shall be seldom and with leave.
Not as a wife, but cold as shee
That may my rivel'd Grandame bee.
If thou canst bear such things as these,
And nought refuse that I shall please;
Sila thou suddainly shalt finde
A man to satisfy thy minde.
Ad Phillidem, Epig. 30.
When thou beginst to raise
By thy old hand and wayes
My languishing desire to force it come
Phillis I'me tortured with thy active thumb.
For when thou call'st me thy
Dear life, thy pretty eye,
Me thinks I scarcely am wound up by thee
In ten houres to the height of Venerie.
Thou knowst not the true flatterie:
Say but once thou wilt give to mee
A hundred thousand sesterties in hand,
So many Acres of Campanian land,
A House, and Boyes, and Wine that's old,
Tables, and Cups border'd with gold:
No fingers then will needful be to thee,
Thus Phillis rub me up, thus tickle mee.
In Nestorem, Epig. 33.
When thou hast neither Coat, nor Fire, nor Bed
That's eat with Wormes, nor Mat with Sedg patch'd up,
Nor Boy, nor Man, nor Maid, nor infant head,
Nor Lock with thee, nor Key, nor Dog, nor Cup.
Yet thou affectest to be call'd and seem
Poor, and to have a popular esteem.
Thou lyest: Thou soothst thy self with vanity,
(Nester) this is not want, but beggery.
Ad Fabullam, Epig. 36.
Fabullus when thou dost invite
Three hundred Strangers to my sight,
Dost wonder? and complain? and chide?
When thus unknown accompanied?
Though call'd I doe not forthwith wait on thee?
Me thinks I sup alone, and am not free.
In Uxorem, Epig. 44.
Caught with my Boyes, at me my wife the Froe
Scolds, and cryes out she hath an ars-hole too.
How oft hath Juno thus reprov'd loose Jove?
Yet he with Ganimede doth act his love.
Hercules bent his Boy, layd-by his Bow,
Though Megara had hanches too we know.
Phœbus was tortured by the flying Wench,
Yet the Oebalian Lad those flames did quench.
Though much denyed Briseis from him lay
Achilles with Patroclus yet did play.
Give not male names then to such things as thine,
But think thou hast two Twats ô wife of mine.
Ad senem Orbum, Epig. 45.
Th'art blinde, and rich and under Brutus bore,
And dost thou think true friendship now to have?
Tis true: But such thou hadst when young and poor,
He that comes now, desires thee in thy Grave.
In Phillida, Epig. 50.
There's not an houre thou dost not plunder mee
When thou perceiv'st me mad with love of thee,
Phillis thou thiev'st with such calliditie.
One while thy cheating Maid weeps for the loss
Of some rich Gem, Earing, or Looking-glasse,
Which from her hand or eare did slip or passe.
Then the Silk-gowns are stolen away shee'le fain.
To be recovered at my charge and pain,
Or else some Sweet-box must be fill'd again.
Another while there is an appetite
To a rich Jug of falerne wine that's right
To expiate the terrors of the night.
Another while a great Jack I must buy,
Or else a two pound Barble: some sweet shee
Bespeaks a supper at thy cost with thee.
Blush then at last, and Phillis let there bee
A just respect of truth and equitie,
I grudg thee nothing: Nought deny to mee.
In Cheræmonem, Epig. 57.
Stoick Cheræmon cause that thou
Canst cry up death I know not how
Thou would'st have me this thy fortitude admire:
Some broken Pitcher bred in thee
This seeming piece of gallantrie,
Or else some frozen Chimney without Fire;
A noysom Worm, or Coverlid,
Or Side-piece of thy naked Bed,
Or a short Coat worn by thee day and night,
O what a mighty Man thou'lt seem
That canst the Dregs of sower red Wine,
And thatch, and poor course black bread dare to slight!
But yet suppose thy Couch should bee
Stuft with Leuconick wooll for thee,
And Purple Vallions should thy Bed attire,
And that thy Boy with thee should sleep,
Which fill'd rich Wine with rosy lip
And set thy love-inflamed guests on fire?
O how wouldst thou then wish to see
Thrice Nestor's years fullfill'd in thee?
And not a minute of a day loss'd have?
To slight a life in miserie
Is nothing: But he that can bee
Contentedly distress'd is truly brave.
De Lesbia, Epig. 63.
Lesbia swears she doth never gratis sport,
Tis true: For when shee's swived she payes well for't.
In Uacerram, Epig. 67.
Th'art both a Pick-thank, and Detractor,
A cunning Cheater, and a Factor,
A Lick-twat, and a Fencer too,
I wonder much (Uacerra) how now?
With all these trades thou canst want mony
In Maronem, Epig. 68.
Maro you'le give mee nothing while you live
But after death you cry then then you'le give:
If thou art not indeed turn'd arrant Ass,
Thou know'st what I desire to come to pass.
De Læda, Epig. 72.
Læda complain'd to her old man that shee
Was choak'd up in her womb, and swived must bee.
But weeps and whines her health's not so much worth,
And rather choose to dye than thus hold forth.
The poor Man begs her live, her youth run on,
And what he could not suffers to be done.
Hence male Phisitians come, and female fly,
Up goes her heels: O mighty remedy!
Ad Pætum, Epig. 77.
Pætus thou took'st ten sesterties from mee
Cause Bucco loos'd two hundred due to thee,
May others crimes I pray nere hurt me! when
Two hundred thou canst loose, why not my ten?
Ad Pætum, Epig. 80.
By ten of clock cause we came but a mile
We are accused of tedious sloth the while:
Tis not the way's, nor mine, the fault's in thee
Pætus, that sent'st thy drowsy Mules for mee.
De Spadone & Sene, Epig. 82.
An Eunuch and an old man strove to lye
With Ægle, but twixt both she still lay dry,
One wanted meanes the other strength to frig,
So either's labor itbh'd without a Jig.
To Uenus then for them and her shee groans,
To give the one his youth, th'other his stones.
Ad Sosibianum, Epig. 84.
Sosibian no man dwells with thee
Under thy roofe gratis or free,
Unlesse hee's rich or in an Orphans state,
No House is let out at a dearer rate.
In Parthenopæum, Epig. 87.
That thy Doctor may asswage
Thy Jawes whose cough doth seem to rage
Daily (Parthenopæus) hee
Commands that they shall give to thee
Life-honny, Kernels, and sweet Cakes,
That every Boy unbidden takes.
But day by day thy cough growes more on thee,
This is no cough (I fear) tis Gluttonie.
Epitaphium Canaces, Epig. 92.
Sweet Canace lyes buryed in this Tombe,
On whom the seaventh Winter just hath come.
O mischief! Traveler why dost hast to weep?
We must not mourn life shortness now a sleep
This kinde of death was worse than death: Her face
The Pox consumed, and spoyl'd its tender grace,
Those cruel plagues her kisses eate and have,
Nor were her lips brought whole to the black Grave.
If the hard Fates could not admit of stay,
Me thinks they might have come some milder way,
But death made hast her pretty tongue to seize,
Least her sweet words should meet the Destinies.
In Zoilum, Epig. 93.
Zoilus he lyed that call'd thee vicious Elf,
Thou art not vicious, but Vice it self.
De Theodoro, Epig. 94.
A fire consumed the Poet's trumperie:
Apollo can this please the nine and thee?
O the great crime of Heaven! ô sad disaster!
Because the House was burnt and not the Master!
In Thelesillam, Epig. 98.
I can swive four times in a night: But thee
Once in four years I cannot occupie.
Ad Flaccum, Epig. 101
Flaccus I would not have a Wench so thin
Whose armes my litle Rings can compass in.
Whose buttock bones would shave, and knee prick harsh,
That wears th'Saws in her loyns, Spears in her arss.
Nor would I one that's of a thousand weight,
I'de have some flesh but not all glory fat,
In Lydiam, Epig. 103.
Lydia he lyed not that reported has
Thou hast a handsom skin but not a face,
Tis so whiles silent, and whiles mute you lye,
Like Pictures wrought in Wax or Tapestry.
But when thou speakst thy skin its grace doth loose,
And no tongue more than thine doth thee abuse.
Beware least th'Officer thee hear and take,
Tis monstrous when an Image goes to speak.
Ad Sophronium, Epig. 104.
Th'hast so much shamefastness and honestie
I wonder how a Father thou couldst bee.
In Uxorem, Epig. 105.
Sweet heart begon: Or use our wayes with us,
I am no Curius, Numa, Tatius.
Nights spent in pleasant Cups best please my sense,
Thou to drink water cann'st rise and dispence.
Thou joy'st in darkness, I by light to sport,
Or else by day to loose my Breeches for't.
Swathes or Coats cover thee, or obscure stuff,
No Wench to me can lye displayd enough.
Such kisses please like Doves that are a billing,
Thou smackst me like thy Grandam so unwilling,
Nor towards the work dost voyce or motion bring,
Nor hand: But makest it as some Offering.
The Phrygian Boyes in secret spent their Seed
As oft as Hector's wife rid on his Steed,
Whiles her Sire slept, Penelope though chast
Was wont to play her hand below her wast.
Thou'lt not be buggerd: Although Gracchus wife
Pompey's and others did it without strife.
And when the Boy not present was tis said
To fill Wine: Juno was Jove's Ganimede,
If gravity by day doth thee delight,
Lucretia be: I'le have thee Lais by night.
Ad Lectorem, Epig. 109.
Though thou mayst justly vex at this long Book,
Yet for some further distichs thou dost look,
But Lupus for his use doth call,
And School-boyes for their dinner ball,
Then let me goe: Thou holdst thy peace: but tell
(Reader) dost thou dissemble too? farwel.
