University of Virginia Library

MARTIALL

Lib. I. Epig.

Ad Catonem.

When thou didst know the merry Feast
Of jocund Flora was at best,
Our solemn sports, how loosely free,
And debonaire the vulgar be,
Strict Cato, why didst thou intrude
Into the seated multitude?
Was it thy frolick here alone
Only to enter and be gone?

Ad Lectorem Epig. 2.

This whom thou readst is he by thee required,
Martiall, through all the world fam'd and desired,
For sharpest Books of Epigrams, on whom
(Ingenious Reader) living, without Tombe,
Thou hast bestow'd that high and glorious wreath,
Which seldome Poets after death receive.

Ad Librum suum, Epig. 4.

Among the Stationers th'hadst rather be
(My litle Book) though my shelf's void for thee,
Alas! thou knowst not Madam Rome's disdain,
Great Mars his sons are of a pregnant brain,
Gybes no where are more free: young men and old,
And Boyes their Nose up in derision hold,
Whiles thou shalt hear thy praise, and kisses have,
Thou shalt be toss'd from th'bosome to the Grave.
But thou for fear thou feel'st thy Masters hand,
And thy loose sports should by his reed be scann'd,
(Lascivious Book) thou seek'st to mount abroad,
Go, fly, but home were yet thy safer road.

Ad Cæsarem, Epig. 5.

If by chance (Cæsar) thou take up my Books,
Lord of the world put by thy morning looks:
Thy greatest tryumphs have admitted mirth,
Nor need'st thou blush to give my fancy birth,
With what aspect thou smilest on Thymele,
Or mimicall Latinus, read thou mee.
Innocent sports, strict censure may peruse,
My life is modest though my lines be loose.

Ad Decianum Epig. 9.

Because thou follow'st so in thy intents
Great Thrasea's, and brave Cato's presidents,
That thou maist be secure: nor runn'st thy brest
Naked on drawn Swords in a frantick jest,
(Decian) thou dost what I would have thee do:
I like not him, who to redeem, or wo
An empty fame by's easie blood is rais'd,
Give me the man that lives and yet is prais'd.

De Gemello & Maronilla. Epig. 11.

Gemellus seeks old Maronill to wed,
Desires it much, is instant, prayes, and fees,
Is she so fair? Nought's more ill favoured:
What then provokes? O she doth cough and wheeze.

De Arria & Pæto. Epig. 14.

When Arria to her Pæto gave the sword,
Which she in her own bowels first had gor'd,
Trust me quoth she, that wound I made, do'nt grieve.
But that doth Pætus which thou meanest to give.

Ad Julium. 16. Epig.

O thou to mee 'mongst my chiefe friends in mind.
(Julius) if antient faith, and tyes ought bind,
The sixtith Consull present is to thee,
And yet thy life knowes small felicitie.
Thou dost not well defer thus to denye,
And call that only thine that is past by:
Cares, and chainpd toyles expect thee, joys nere stay,
But fleeting take their leave, and flie away;
These with spread armes and with eaeh hand embrace,
They oft slide from our bosomes secret'st place.
Credit me t'is not wise, I'le live to stay
To morrow's lif's too late, live thou to day.

In Æliam. Epig. 20.

Ælia just four teeth had, if I told right,
One Cough ejected two, another two:
Now she may cough securely day and night
There's nothing left for the third cough to doe.

De Porsena & Mucio Scævola. Epig. 22.

When the right hand mistaken in the guard
Seeking t'assault the king; in fell reward
Threw it self in the holy flames to dye,
Such Cruell wonders the good enemie
Could not sustain, but by command anon
Snatchd from the flames injoyns him to be gon;
That hand which Mucius in contempt was bold
To burn, King Porsena could not behold:
The failing hand the greater glory found,
Had it not err'd, it had been lesse renown'd.

Ad Cottam Epig. 24.

Cotta th'invitest none, but such with thee
Are bath'd, and baths provide thee companie:
I wondred long how I escaped thy call:
But now I see my naked truth spoil'd all.

Ad Sabidum Epig. 33.

I do not love the (Sabidus),
Nor can I tell thee why:
Only my humour happens thus,
I doe not fancy thee.

De Gellia, Epig. 34.

Gellia nere mourns her fathers losse
Whiles no one's by to see,
But yet her soon commanded tears
Flow in societie:
‘To weep for praise is but a feigned moan,
‘He grieves most truly that does grieve alone.

Ad Lesbiam, Epig. 35.

Lesbia thou sin'st still with an unpimp'd door,
And open, and nere cloak'st thy pleasure ore,
Thy peepers more than active friends delight,
Nor are thy joys in kind if out of sight:
But yet the common wench with veil and key
Strives to expell the witnesse far away,
No chinck doth in a Brothel-house appear,
Of vulgar Strumpets learn this modest care,
Stews hide this filthinesse: but Lesbia see
If this my censure seem too hard to be?
I do'nt forbid thee to imploy thy prime,
But to be taken Lesbia, there's the crime.

Ad Fidentinum, Epig. 39.

That Book thou read'st is ours, my Fidentine,
But now thou readst so ill, 'tis surely thine.

Ad Lividum, Epig. 41.

Thou that look'st sowre, & readst unwillingly,
Mayst th'envy all men! no man envy thee!

De Porcia Epig. 43.

When Porcia heard her husband Brutus fate,
And grief pursued substracted armes to take,
Know ye not yet death cannot be denyed?
Quoth she, this proof enough my father tried
This sayd, she drank the burning Coals in ire,
Go now vexatious Crowd your sword retyre.

Ad Hedylam Epig. 47.

When thou sayst I hasten to't,
Doe it if thou meanst to do't;
Hedyla, delayd desire
Soon languishes and doth expire.
Command me to expect, then I
Withheld shall run more speedily,
But Hedyla if thou dost hast,
Tell me that I not come too fast.

Ad Fuscum Epig. 55.

If any room (my Fuscus) yet there be
Voyd in thy Love; for here and there we see
Thy freinds abound, one place I doe implore,
Nor me reject because unknown before,
Thy antientest familiars were as new,
When first thy parts their apt affection drew,
O let my later love this boon obtain,
To be embraced in the elder strain.

Ad Frontonem, Epig. 56.

Wouldst know thy Marcus wish here in a word?
(Fronto) thou great renown of Gown and Sword,
Tis to be master of a little Field,
His own, course pleasures him such pleasures yeeld.
Every man courts the walks of Spartan stone,
And wearies his how dey' simply till noone:
He that enjoyes his happy grove and land,
Before whose fire the loaded Nets spread stand,
And leaping fish hangs with a trembling line,
Drawing sweet hony from red casks for wine?
Whose fat made spreads his Table with three legs,
And whose unpurchased embers roast his egs,
May he hate me that hates this life or this,
And live imployd in City Offices.

Ad Flaccum, Epig. 58

My Flaccus, if thou needs wouldest crave
What wench I would, and would not have?
I loath the too too easy field
A like with her that nere will yield.
A moderation I embrace,
And most approve the middle place,
I fancy none that wring my gutts,
Nor her that in enjoying gluts.

De Lævina Epig. 63.

Lævina Chast as Sabines were of old
Whose face look'd stricter than her husbands, could,
Whiles she permits her selfe refresh'd to be
Oft in the baths held in communitie,
She fell on fire, embraced a lad, and burn'd,
Chast she came there, but too much chasd return'd.

Ad Somnum Epig. 72.

Nævia six Cupps Justina seaven Comprize,
Lycas five, Lyde four, and Ida three,
Each man his love by healths arithmatize,
If none appeare, then Sleep come thou to me

Ad Fidentinum Epig. 73.

Fidentine dost thou think and seek to be
A Poet by my verse in thievery?
So Ægle with her bought and Indian bone
may seem to have a sound mouth of her own.
So painted-faced Lycoris may seem white,
Though black as Moores veild in a nat'rall night.
For that same cause that thou art Poet call'd,
Thou mayst be said bush-haird when thou art bald.

Ad Cæcilianum Epig. 74.

Scarce on in all the Citty would embrace
Thy proffer'd wife (Cæcilian) free to have:
But now she guarded, and lock'd up: apace
Thy custom comes. O th'art a witty knave!

Ad Flaccum Epig. 77.

Flaccus thou greatest of my cares to me,
The heire of old Antenors familie!
Out with these Muses songs, and companie,
No Girle among them will bring ought to thee.
What seekst of Phœbus? tis Minerva's chest
Is full, shee's wise and hoards up all the rest.
What can poor Bacchus wreaths give? Pallas tree
Weighs down her boughs with superfluitie.
Helicon has no more but springs, and bays,
The harps of Goddesses and empty praise.
With th'Sacred Fountains what hast thou to doe?
The Roman Courts more rich, and nearer too.
There the chink gingles, but about our chayr
And pulpits, Kisses only fill the Ayre.

De Manneia's Epig. 84.

A puppie licks Manneia's lipps, the sense
I grant, a dog may kis.—sir reverence.

De Quicinali Epig. 85.

Sly Quicinalis cares not much to wed,
Yet would partake the off-spring of the bed,
But yet what trick? what custom is't he uses?
Most certain he his chamber-maids abuses.
So stocks his house and feilds: how truly he
Is calld the Father of his familie?

De Novio Microspico Epig. 87.

Novius my neighbour is, and he
From out my windows reacht may be,
Who will not envy me? and say
I'm happy all howers of the day?
Who may, enjoy a freind so near?
But he's as farr from me, as where
Terentian guards Syene's wall,
Nor can I feast with him at all,
Nor is it granted once to me
To hear him, or at least to see,
Nor in this City one throughout
Lives me more near, or more remote.
Well he or I must further move,
Who so would Novius neighbour prove:
And verily his Inmate be,
Must never Novius mean to see.

Ad Bassam tribadem Epig. 91.

Cause amongst males thou nere was seen to be
Nor as unchast no fable feigned thee,
But all thy offices discharged were
By thy own sex, no man intruding there,
I grant thou seem'dst Lucretia to our eye,
But (o mistake!) Bassa th'art out ont, fie.
Two Twatts commit the fact, and dare it can,
Whiles a prodigious lust supplies the man,
Th'hast made a riddle worth the Thebane guile,
Where no man is, adultery bred the while.

Ad Nævolum Causidicum Epig. 98.

Still in a crowd of noise thy voyce is heard,
And thinkst thy self a Lawyer for thy table,
On this account each man that wears a beard
May be as wise: lo all men peace! now pratle.

Ad Calenum avarum Epig. 100.

Thou scarce hadst twenty sesterties in all,
Yet wast so bountifull, and liberall,
So richly neat (Calenus) that all wee
Thy friends did wish thee much more great to be,
Jove heard our prayers, and what we then desired,
And ere seaven months (I think) were full expired
Foure funerals bequeathd thee such a summ:
But, thou as if no Legacies had come,
But rather hadst bin robd, grewst so in care,
So basely hard, that our more sumptuous fare
That in a year thou dost provide one time
Costs thee no more then th'offal of thy coyn:
And we thy seaven old friends are by thee thought
Worth but a lead half pound if to be bought,
What mischief shall we wish that's worthy thee?
Even a thousand times more rich to bee!
If this shall happen which we pray it might,
Wretched Calenus thou wilt starve out-right.

Ad Scævolam Epig. 104.

Scævola not as yet dubbd Knight he prays
For one ten thousand pounds his stock to raise,
How largely would he live! how happilie!
The easie gods smil'd and vouchsaf'd it free.
Upon this boon his coat was much more bare,
His Cloak far worse, his shoos thrice clouted are,
His olives were of seaven years vintage standing,
One Table serves two meales by his commanding:
The course dreggs ofred wine are his chiefe drink,
His pease and wench scarce cost one doit I think,
Let us appeale to Law, thou cheating Bore,
Live, or else to the gods their goods restore.

Ad Lucium Julium Epig. 108.

Most famous Julius thou sayst oft to mee,
Th'art idle, write things for eternitie:
Give me such boons I cry, such as of old
Horace and Virgil from their Patron hold,
Ile strive to raise my cares beyond times date,
And snatch my name from fire's consuming hate,
The Oxe on barren fields his yoke wiln't beare,
A fast soyle tyres, but yet the labour's dear.

Ad Uelocem Epig. 111.

Uelox complaines my Epigrams are long,
whiles he writes none: he sings a shorter song

Lib. 2.

Epig. 3.

Sextus ows nought, nor fears his quarter day,
Tis true: he ows most truly that can pay.

Ad Decianum, Epig. 5.

Let me not live (my Decian) if the day
And the whole night I would not with thee stay,
But there are two miles that divide our home,
Which are made foure to me when I back come.
Th'art oft abroad: when not, th'art oft denied,
Or with thy causes, or thy self imploy'd.
But yet to see thee two miles I will go;
But not to see thee, foure don't please me so.

De Selio, Epig. 11.

In Posthumum, Epig. 12.

What's this that myrrh doth still smel in thy kisse's,
And that with thee no other odour is?
Tis doubt (my Posthumus) he that doth smel
So sweetly alwayes, smels not very well.

In Hermum, Epig. 15.

Hermus because thou givest thy Cup to none:
It is not proudly, but humanely done.

De Paulo, Epig. 20.

Paulus buyes verse, recites, and owns them all,
For what thou buy'st, thou mayst thine truly call.

In Posthumum, Epig. 21.

Posthumus kisses some must have,
And some salute his fist:
Thy hand good Posthumus I crave,
If I may choose my lift.

De eodem, Epig. 22.

O Phœbus and ye sisters nine,
What shall I do with you?
Behold that merry Muse of mine
Her Poet will undoe.
Posthumus late was wont to kisse
With half lips, which I loath,
But now my plague redoubled is,
He kisses me with both.

In Candidum, Epig. 24.

If thy crosse fortune send thee some sad fate,
I must persist thy pale and squallid mate.
If from thy Country thou must banish'd be.
Through seas and rocks I still must follow thee.
If riches come, will they be free to many?
Wilt thou give part? tis much; wilt thou give any?
Tis crosses makes thee mine: when they are gone,
Candidus will be happy then alone.

Ad Gallam, Epig. 25.

Galla dares promise, but makes good no ty,
If thou still failest? I prethee once deny.

Ad Bithynicum, Epig. 26.

Cause Nevia coughs, and grieves, breaths thick and short,
And drops her spittle on her brest in sport:
Do'st think thy self her heire made presently?
Th'art out, thy Nævia flatters, will not dye.

In Cajum Epig. 30.

Twice twenty sesterties I once besought,
Which were they given could not much be thought,
Cause 'twas my happy and my antient friend
I askd, whose cofferd treasures knew no end?
He answered: follow suits, thou mayst buy land:
I ask no Counsel Cajus, crosse my hand.

In Cæcilianium Epig. 37.

What's here and there thou dost purloyn,
A pregnat sow's papps, a hoggs chine,
A woodcock, commons for two men,
A whole Jack, half a Barble, then
A Lamprey's side, a Pullet's thigh,
A Stock-dove boyld in pottage by:
When these are hid in greasy clout,
And to thy Boy deliverd out
To be brought to thy home: we sit
An idle crowd without a bit.
Restore the feast if any shame there bee,
To morrow I have not invited thee.

In Linum Epig. 38.

Linus dost ask what my field yeilds to mee?
Even this profit, that I nere see thee.

De codem

Linus gives purple and rich scarlet gowns
To his notorious and adult'rous woman:
If thou wouldst give what her degree becoms?
A loose coat would more fitly stock her common.

In Candidum Epig. 43.

These are thy Κοινα φιλων these are they
(Candidus) which thou soundst out night and day.
Thy gown is washd in the Calabrian spring,
Or of those flocks their fleece to Parma bring.
But mine as one that passed the bulls hornes, stares,
Or which would scarce be owned by the first haires,
Agenor's son's regret countrey sends thee coats,
Thou canst not fell my scarlet for three groats.
Thou hangst with Indian teeth thy Libian rings,
My beechen table's propd with earthen things
Thy gold-tipd plates rich barbles do bedight
My dish is red with self-look'd Aconite.
Thy boyes may with the Ilian lad compare,
My hands my Ganymedes most duly are.
Of this thy wealth thou nought bestowest on us
Thy friends: yet cry'st out Κεινα Candidus.

In Sextum Epig. 44.

Whether I've bought a freeze coat or a boy,
For three or four times double the pound Troy,
Forthwith the us'rer Sextus, which ye know
To be my antient neighbour-friend in show,
In care, least I should borrow of him, fears
And whispers to himself, but by my eares,
I to Secundus owe seaven thousand pounds,
To Phœbus four, eleven Philetus sounds;
Whiles I have not one farthing in my chest:
O my conceited friend's ingenious jest!
Sextus 'tis hard to give a flat denyal,
When thou art askd: much more before the tryal.

In Maximum [illeg.]

Maximus wouldst be free? tis false, thou'lt not,
But if thou wouldst indeed, hence take the plot;
Thou shalt: if thou can'st choose to sup abroad:
Or if small wine thy thirst can quench or load:
If thou can'st scorne poore Cinna's bravery,
And with our homely gown contented bee,
If thy lust may be calmd for half a sowse,
And entring can'st stoop to thy low-roofd house:
If thou this power of self and minde canst bring,
Thou shalt live freer then the Parthian king.

Ad Gallum de ejus uxore Epig. 56.

In Lybia thy wife they stigmatize
With the foule crime of too much avarice.
But they are lyes they tell: she is not wont
To take, but give for scouring of her ---.

In Zoilum Epig. 58.

Zoilus well cloathd, derides my thred-bare gowne,
Tis true tis thred-bare Zoilus, but my owne.

In Taurum Epig. 64.

While now thou'lt Lawyer be, now Rhetorician,
And knowst not to make forth thy wishd condition,
Peleus, and Priam's, Nestor's age slips by,
And it was grown too late for thee to try;
Begin: three Rhetoricians dyed one yeare!
If thou hast any skill or stomack here?
If Schools dislike? Courts swarm with the old trade,
And Marsya's self a Lawyer may be made.
Fie, out with this delay: how long shall wee
Expect? whiles doubting, nothing thou wilt bee.

In Saletanum Epig. 65.

Why doe we see old Saletan so sad?
Is the cause light? thou sayst his wife is dead.
O the grand crime of fate! ô the sad chance!
Is Secundilla dead? that did advance
A thousand sesterties in dowry to thee?
O would this hap had neer came to undoe thee!

De Fannio Epig. 80.

When Fannius should have scaped his Foe,
His own hands stopt his breath:
And was't not madness I would know,
By dying to 'scape death;

In Mamercum Epig. 88.

Thou nought recit'st, and yet wouldst bee
Thought Poet on that score:
Be what thou wilt Mamercus free,
So thou wilt speak no more.

Ad Quinctilianum Epig. 90.

O thou great master of the youth of Rome
Quinctilian, the glory of the gowne!
Pardon though poor, nor struck in yeares, I hast
To live, since no man strives to live too fast:
Let him delay that's Fathers rents would raise,
And fill his house with shapes of antient days,
Me fire, and houses please smoakd with their steame,
A native sallet, and a living stream,
A bond-man serves my turne, an unlearnd wife,
A night with sleep, a day without all strife.

Lib. 3.

Epig. 9.

Cinna writes verses against me tis said,
He writes not, whose bad verse no man doth read.

In Candidum Epig. 26.

Candidus has alone fine farmes, gold, coyne,
Myrrh, and drinks Cæcuba and Massick wine.
Has the sole wisdom, and the only wit,
Enjoyes the world alone and all in it.
But has he all alone? that I deny:
His wife with ours is in community,

Ad Gargilianum Epig. 30.

No money's payd, yet gratis eat'st my cheare,
But when at Rome (Gargilian) what dost there?
Whence hast thou house-rent? or whence a coat?
How canst thou pay thy wench? whence hast a groat?
Though with much reason thou art said to live,
Yet how thou dost it none can reason give.

Ad Rufinum Epig. 31.

I grant thy large spread fields yeild much to thee
And to thy Citty houses great farmes bee,
The debtors to thy chest are numerous,
And golden tables furnish out thy house:
Yet doe not scorn, such as inferiour bee;
Since other men have greater wealth then thee.

In Matriniam Epig. 32.

Matrinia asks if I can love
A woman that is old:
And such a one I doe approve,
But thou art dead and cold.
I can embrace old Hecub's itch,
Or Niobe all one;
But not till she's turnd to a bitch,
The other to a stone.

Qualem puellam velit Epig. 33.

I'de rather have the gentile lass,
But if she be denyd?
The Libertine shall freely pass,
And with my fancy side.
The hand-maid which excels them both,
Comes in the latest place:
If that she have in very troth,
But an ingenious face?

In Pollam Epig. 42.

Cause Polla thou dost strive so fine
With paint to smooth thy wrinckled groin,
Thou daubst thy belly, not thy lips to mee,
And peradventure in simplicitie
The smaller fault lyes open freely still,
That which is hid is thought the greater ill.

In Lentinum Epig. 43.

Lentinus Counterfeits his youth
With Periwigs I trow,
But art thou changd so soon in truth,
From a Swan to a Crow?
Thou canst not all the world deceive,
Proserpine knows thee gray:
And shee'le make bold without your leave,
To take your Cap away.

Ad Ligurinum Epig. 45.

Whether sacred Phœbus fled (my Ligurine)
Thyestes feast? I Know not; we fly thine:
Though that thy Table's rich and nobly spread,
Yet thy sole talke knocks all th'enjoyment dead.
I care not for thy Barbles, Turbots, Plase,
Thy Oysters, nor thy Mushrooms, hold thy peace.

Ad Tongilianum Epig. 52.

Thy house two hundred pounds (Tongilian) cost,
Which by a frequent chance of fire was lost:
Thy Brief rose ten times more: let me require
Was't not thy plot to set thy house on fire?

Ad Chloën Epig. 53.

I could not freely want thine eyes,
Thy praised neck, and hands, and thighs,
Thy paps, thy giblets, and thy hips,
And least I should quite tyre my lips
Thy several parts to minde to call
Chloë in short I'de want thee all.

In Gelliam Epig. 55.

Where ere thou comm'st we think Cosmus goes by,
As from crackd viols spices cast their smel:
I care not for thy forreign frippery,
For at this charge my dog shall smell as well.

In Cinnam Epig. 61.

What ere thou askdst (Cinna) tis nought said by thee:
If it be nothing? nothing I deny thee.

In Cotilum. Epig. 63.

Cotilus thou art calld a pretty man,
I hear, but tell, what is that pretty than?
Hee's pretty, that in order curles his haire,
Or smells all baulm or Cinnamon most rare.
That Nile's loose songs, or Gaditane doth sing,
And into various modes his arms doth swing.
Hee that in crowds of females wasts the day,
And in their ears has somewhat still to say,
That reades; then writes new letters here and there,
And nicely leanes not on his neighbor's chair:
That knowes whom each man loves, that runs through feasts,
Blazons Nirpinus great Grand-Fathers crests.
What sayst? is this thy pretty man? this tool?
He then that's pretty's but a fribling fool.

Ad Lauferam. Epig. 72.

Thou darest be nought, yet wilt not bathe wtih mee,
I know no guilt to ground thy jealousie.
Either thy ragged brests hang ugly down,
Or being naked, fearst to shew thy own,
Else thy torn groin, gapes with a monstrous slit,
Or some prodigious thing hangs over it;
If none of these? thou art a beauteous tool,
If true? thou hast a worse fault, th'art a fool.

In Lupercum Epig. 75.

Lupercus now thy—has left to stand,
Yet thou striv'st madly him up to command.
But scallions and lose rochets nought prevail,
And heightning meats in operation fayl;
Thy wealth begins thy pure cheeks to defile,
So venery provok'd lives but awhile.
Who can admire enough, the wonder's such,
That thy not standing stands thee in so much?

Ad Apicium Epig. 80.

Apicius nere complains, does no man wrong,
Yet the voyce goes, he has a filthy tongue.

In Tongilionem Epig. 84.

What does thy Strumpet say Tongilion?
I doe not mean thy wench, what then? thy tongue.

De Galla Epig. 90.

My Galla will, and will not buss,
My fancy never could;
By willing and not willing thus,
Suppose what Galla would.

In Uetustillam Epig. 93.

Thou Uetustill hast liv'd three hundred years,
Hast but four teeth in all, and but three hairs,
A grashoper's thin waist, an emet's thigh,
A brow more wrinkled then old wives gowns bee,
Dugs like the webs of spiders, and if Nile
Should with thy chops compare her Crocodile,
His jawes would seem but streight: the frogs that bee
Bred at Ravenna croke better then thee,
The Adrian gnats sing sweeter, birds of night
Blinded in morning beames equall thy sight,
Thou smellst all hee-goat, hast a rump as fine
As the extream end, of a lean duck's chine:
The bony tout out-vyes th'old Cinnick quite,
When she the bath-man with extinguish'd light
Admits among the bustuary sluts,
When August brings a winter to thy guts,
Nor yet can thaw thee with a pestilence,
After two hundred deaths, darest thou commence
Bride still? and seek a husband in thy dust
To raise an itch? what though he harrow must
A stone? who'le call thee wife, or ought that's so?
Whom thy last mate, call'd grandam long ago:
And if thou askst thy carkase scratchd to bee,
Lame Coricles shall make thy bed for thee;
He that alone becomes thy bridal cheare,
The burner of dead bodies best can beare
A taper at thy nuptials, torches can
Best enter at the Salli-port of man.

In Nævolum Epig. 95.

Nævolus nere salutes first, but replies,
Which the taught crow, himself seldome denies.
Why dost expect this from mee Nævolus?
Since thou art not more great nor good then us?
Both Cæsars have rewarded my due praise,
And me to th'priv'ledg of three sons did raise,
I'me read by every mouth, known through the town,
And before death receive my quick renown,
And this is worth your note I'me Tribune too,
And sit where that Oceanus caps you;
How many by great Cæsar's grant are made
Free denizons because by me twas prayd?
The number far exceeds thy family,
But thou art buggred Nævolus, feedst high,
Now now thou over-comst me sheere, thus, thus,
Thou art my betters, Salve Nævolus.

Ad Cerdonem Epig. 99.

Why art offended (Cerdo) with my book?
Thy life, and not thy person's by me strook,
Then suffer harmless-wit, why is't not due
For me to sport? when stabbing's free to you?

Lib. 4.

De Natali Domitiani Epig. 1.

This is great Cæsar's day, and far above
That wherein Ide produced mighty Jove.
Mayst thou come long! and and Nestor's years fullfill,
And with this, or a better face, shine still.
May he adore his Sea-god in rich gold,
And let his hands great Jove's tree still infold!
May he enjoy the Serpent-ages long,
Such as Terentus consecrates in song!
Tis much we ask, ye Gods, but to us due,
And since tis Cæsar, what is much to you?

Ad Faustinum Epig. 10.

Whiles that thy book is new and rough, and feares
To have its undryed page took by the ears,
Goe boy, present this small gift to my friend,
He that deserves my toys at the first end:
Run, but yet let the sponge accompanie
The book, for it becomes each gift from mee.
Faustinus tis not many blots we say,
Can mend my merry flashes, one blot may.

In Thaidem Epig. 12.

Thais denyes no man: If no shame thence spring?
Yet let this shame thee, to deny no-thing.

De Nuptiis Pudentis & Claudiæ Epig. 13.

Strange, Claudia's married to a friend of mine,
O Hymen be thou ready with thy Pine!
Thus the rare Cinnamons with the Spicknard joyne:
And the Thesean sweets, with massick wine.
Nor bettor doe the Elm and Vine embrace,
Nor the Lote tree affect the fenny place.
Nor yet the Myrtles more
Love and desire the shore.
Let a perpetual peace surround thy bed,
And may their loves with equall fire be fed!
May she so love him old, that to him shee,
Though old indeed, may not seem so to bee.

De Selio Epig. 21.

Selius affirnes there are no gods,
And that the heavens are voyd:
And well he proves what he avers,
Whiles he lives undestroyd.

De Cleopatra Epig. 22.

The virgin danger pass'd, the Bride enraged,
Sweet Cleopatra to be disengaged
And, scarce mine armes dives in the baths most cleare:
But the kind waters soon betrayd her there,
For though thus hid her glories did appeare,
Like to soft Lillies in a christal grave,
Or Roses closed in Gemms no cover have;
With that I div'd, and cropd the strugling kisses,
Ye glittering streames forbad the other blisses.

Ad Fabianum Epig. 24.

Lycoris kills up all his wives apace,
I would he had my wife in the same chace!

Ad Hyppodamum, Epig. 31.

Cause thou desirest to be read and named
So in my books, as by it to be famed,
Let me not live the thing much pleases mee,
And in my lines I would insert thee free,
But that thy name is so averse to all
The Muses, which thy Mother did thee call,
Which nor Melpom'ne, nor Poly'mnia may
Nor sweet Calliope with Phœbus say.
Adopt thee then some grateful name to us,
How wretchedly this sounds? Hyppodamus?

De Ape electro inclusa, Epig. 32.

Shining and yet shut up in th'amber drop,
The Bee as clos'd in its own waxe did lye,
Of all her labours reaping this the crop:
It's credible she fancied thus to dye.

Ad Gallum, Epig. 38.

Galla deny: love's glutted if the joy
At first doe not seem coy:
But Galla yet take care least you deny
Too long, and fancy dy.

Ad Colinum, Epig. 54.

O thou to whom tis free to wear Jov's Tree,
And with his first leaves honoured to bee,
If thou art wise, enjoy thy days repast,
Colinus think the present still the last:
The fatal Sisters grant no wish'd delay
To any, but observe the destin'd day.
Wert thou more rich than Crispus, constanter
Then Thrasea's self, more free than Melior,
Lachesis adds no tow, the spindles be
Unwound, the thred's cut by one of three.

In Gargillianum, Epig. 56.

Cause thou bestow'st vast gifts on aged men,
And widdows struck in years, Gargilian,
Wouldst have me call thee bountiful for this?
Nothing's more base than thou, nought more vile is.
Which mayst thy gifts thine ambuscadoes call,
So the false hooks indulge the fishes fall,
So the sly bayt traps silly beasts and all,
Knowst thou not how to give? how to be free?
I'le teach thee then Gargilian: give to mee.

De vipera electro inclusa, Epig. 59.

Whiles up the Viper climbes the weeping boughs,
The amber drop the strugling beast ore flowes,
Wondring to see himself in rich dew found,
The freezing gemm inclosed him quickly round.
Boast not then Cleopatra of thy Tombe
Since a Snake lyes in a more noble room.

De Curiatio, Epig. 60.

Ardea in the solstice we desire,
And baths the Cleonæan Star doth heat,
Bur Curiatius death condemns their sweat,
Since in those praised streames he did expire,
‘No place excludes the fates: when death shall come,
‘Sardinia is in the midst of Rome.

Ad Quinctum, Epig. 72.

Quinctus requires I should give him my books:
I have them not, at Tryphon's he may speed:
Shall I buy toys (quoth he) with sober looks?
And verse? I'me not so mad: nor I indeed.

In Zoilum invidum, Epig. 77.

I never askd the gods for gold,
Content with mean things, and my own,
Now povety let me be bold
I ask thee pardon to be gone.
But what is the cause of this vote for pelf;
I would see Zoilus hanging of himself.

In Uarum, Epig. 78.

Uarus did lately me to supper call,
The furniture was rich, the Feast but small:
The Table's spread with plate, not meat: they put
Much to accost the eyes, nought for the gut.
We came to feast our bellies, not our eyes:
Pray take away your gold, give us some Pyes.

In Afrum, Epig. 79.

Now that the sixtieth harvest thou hast known,
And that thy face with snow is over-grown
Thou runn'st through all the Citty, every seat,
And bringst thine Ave in a toylsome sweat,
Nor can a man salute a Tribune free,
There's never a Consul can be rid of thee.
To Cæsar's House thou walkst ten times a day,
And talkst of nothing less than Courtiers gay,
(Afer) tis bad in Boyes that go to School,
Nought's more absurd than an old medling fool.

De Bassa, Epig. 88.

Thy Bassa's used to place a childe up by her,
And calls it her delight her pretty pinck:
Yet loves no childe, which thou mayst more admire,
What then's the cause? why, Bassa's wont to stinck.

Lib. 5.

Ad Lectores. Epig. 2.

Ye Matrons, Boyes, and Vigins neat,
To you my Page I dedicate,
Thou whom more shameless sports delight,
And naked pleasant wit, invite.
Thy fancy to my foure first books:
This fifth shall sport with Cæsar's looks.
Which great Domitian may be bold,
Before his Goddess to unfold.

Ad Vulcanum. Epig. 7.

As ruines renovate th'Assyrian nests,
When twice five ages the sols bird hath spent:
So Rome her old decrepitness digests,
Dress'd in the visage of her president.
Now (Vulcan,) I beseech forget and spare
Our greife, w'are Mars and Venus progenie:
So thy loose wife shall passe the Lemnian snare,
And in chast love affect thee patiently.

Ad Regulum de fama Poetarum. Epig. 10.

What's this? that fame to living men's denyd.
And Readers their own Lines seldom affect?
(Regulus) these are tricks of envious pride,
The present still for old things to reject.
So most ingrate wee seek old Pompey's shades,
And praise the tottered fane of Catulus.
While Maro liv'd, Ennius whole Rome invades
And Homer's age laughd him rediculous.
Crowned Menander seldom heard a shout,
Corinna her owne Naso knew alone,
O my small books nere hasten to goe out,
If praise come after death I'le not go on.

In Calistratum. Epig. 13.

Calistratus I doe confesse
I have been poor, and am no lesse,
But not obscurely base as yet,
Nor a Knight of the lowest seat.
But through the world I'me freely read,
And as I passe here's he tis said,
What dust and ashes give to some,
My life affords without a Tombe.
But thy house leans on stately props,
Thy chests inclose great silver crops,
Rich Ægypts glebes thy houshold keep,
And Parma sheare thy numerous sheep.
Thus what we are we both may see,
But what I am thou canst not be,
What thou art each plebeian may
With thy estate be any day.

In Gelliam, Epig. 17.

Whiles Gellia cryd up her Fore-fathers House,
And our low Knight-hood valued not a lowse,
While's she denied all under the Broad Key,
A Basket-bearer swept her quite away.

De Crispo, Epig. 33.

Crispus by will no doit of all his pelf
Gave to his wife: whom then? even to himself.

In Caussidicum, Epig. 34.

A Lawyer's said unknown my Book to flout,
But wo be to thee, if I finde thee out.

De Erotio, Epig. 35.

Ye Parents Fronto and Flaccilla here
To you I doe commend my Girle, my Deare,
Least pale Erotion tremble at the shades,
And the fowl Dog of Hell's prodigious heads,
Her age fullfilling just six winters was,
Had she but known so many dayes to pass.
'Mongst you old Patrons may she sport and play,
And with her lisping tongue my name oft say.
May the smooth turf her soft bones hide, and bee
O Earth as light to her as she to thee!

Quod datur non perire, Epig. 43.

A Thief may break thy Chests, and steal thy gold,
A fire consume thy Fathers House of old,
Debtors detain thy use and principal,
Thy sown seed bring thee no increase at all:
A crafty Harlot may thy Steward plunder,
Thy Ships and goods the rageing Seas sinck under:
‘What's on thy friends bestow'd is above fate:
‘Thy gifts thou still shalt have inviolate.

De Thaide & Lecania. Epig. 44.

Thais her teeth are black and nought,
Lecania's white are grown,
But what's the reason; these are bought,
The other wears her own.

De Philone, Epig. 48.

Philo nere sups at home he swears: tis true,
For not invited crib must want his due.

Ad Labienum, Epig. 50.

When (Labiene) by chance I thee did see
Sitting alone, I thought thou hadst bin three.
The number of thy baldnesse me deceivd,
For here and there thy haires I then retreivd,
Which a boy's head will hardly well become,
Upon thy crown lyes a large vacant room,
A floor wherein no hair's observ'd to bee.
Yet this December's error yeilds to thee,
That when the Emp'ror keeps his solemn day,
Thou carry'st three shares of his almes away.
Geryon I suppose was such a one,
But when thou seest Phillippus Porch, begon,
If Hercules shall spy thee th'art undone.

In Posthumum, Epig. 53.

What thou conferr'st on me I do
Remember, and shall think on too.
Why therefore doe I hold my tongue?
Cause (Posthumus) thou nere hast done.
As often as I go to treat
Of these thy gifts to them I meet,
Tis presently replyd, forbear,
He whisperd it into my eare.
Two men some things cannot doe well,
One person may suffice to tell,
And doe this work: if it may please
That I shall speak, then hold thy peace.
For prethee Posthumus believe
Though that thy gifts are great to give,
‘All thanks must perish, and are lost
‘When Authors their own actions boast.

Ad Bassum, Epig. 54.

My Bassus why? why dost thou write
Thyestes Feast? Medea's flight?
What hast to doe with Niobe?
Or Troys remains Andromache?
Deucalion's feat's a theam more fit,
Or Phaethon's to share thy wit.

Ad Lupum, Epig. 57.

Lupus is careful, and of me doth crave
To know what Master for his Son to have?
I give thee warning all Grammarians shun,
And Rhetoricians too: then out upon
Tullie's and Uirgill's barren books and name,
Leave old Tutilius to enjoy his fame.
If he makes verse? expell the Poet streight,
But if he fancy Arts of richer weight,
Let him turn Fidler, or a Minstrel bee,
But if he's dull of ingenuitie?
Make him a noble publique Citty Cryer,
Or famous Architect that works by squire.

Ad Posthumum Epig. 59.

To morrow Posthumus, to morrow still
Thou sayst thou'lt live: but Posthumus when will
That morrow come? how far? where to be found?
Is't in the Parthian, or Armenian ground?
Or can that morrow Priam's age out-boast?
Or Nestor's? tell what will that morrow cost?
Thou'lt live to morrow? this days life's too late,
Hee's wise that liv'd before the present date.

Ad Detractorem, Epig. 91.

Though thou dost bark against me still
With bitter yelpings of ill will,
That fame shall sure thee be denyed
In my books to be notified,
Though tis desired of old by thee
Through the world to be read with mee.
For why should men know thou hast bin?
Obscurely perish in thy fin.
Yet peradventure there may bee
In this great Citty two or three
A dogs skin that would dain to gnaw,
That scab my nails shall never claw.

In Marianum, Epig. 92.

Who is that Crispulus? (my Marian)
That sticks so to thy wife? what is he man?
I know not what that prattles in her eare?
And leans with his right elboe on her chaire?
Through all whose fingers her light ring doe run?
Whose smoother legs no rough haire growes upon?
Reply'st thou not? he's one thou dost confesse
That doth solicite thy wife's businesse.
A sharp observant lad, that wears the Proctor
Lock'd in his looks, more strict than an old Doctor?
How worthy thou deserv'st stage buffets thus?
Or to succeed old blind Panniclus?
Crispulus doe thy wife's work? he does none;
Tis not thy wife's he does, but 'tis thy own.

Ad suos ministros, Epig. 65.

Callistus fill four cups of muscadine,
And in coole snow my boy dissolve the wine.
Let my moyst hair grow rich with perfurme sweats,
And tyre my brows with rose-bud coronets.
The royal tombes commands us live: since they
Teach that the very gods themselves decay.

Id Pontilianum, Epig. 67.

Pontilian nere salutes till after mee:
So his farwel will everlasting bee.

De origine Bacchi, 73.

He that affirmes Jove, Bacchus mother, may
Prove Semele his Father the same way.

Ad Theodorem, Epig. 74.

Why I nere give my books to thee
Desiring, and beseeching mee,
Dost wonder Theodore? the cause is cleare,
That thine to me may not appeare.

De Pompeio, Epig. 75.

Great Pompey's Sons Europe and Asia both
Interr, Lybia himselfe, if any doth?
What wonder through the world to see him slain;
So great a fall one field could not contain.

Ad Quinctum, Epig. 76.

(Quinctus) why Lælia married is to thee?
Tis only once legitimate to bee.

Ad Cinnam, Epig. 77.

Oft drinking poyson prepared Mithridate,
No venom could his brains intoxicate:
So Cinna by bad meales so fixd doth grow,
Hunger cannot prevail to starve him now.

Ad Æmilianum, Epig. 76.

If thou art poor Æmilian?
Thou shalt be ever so.
For no man now their presents can
But on the rich bestow.

Lib. 6.

Adulatorium Cæsarem, Epig. 4.

Most Mighty Cæsar, King of kings, to whom
Rome owes so many tryumphs yet to come,
So many Temples growing and restored,
So many Spectacles, gods, Cities: Lord
She yet in debt to thee doth more remain,
That she by thee is once made chast again.

De Thelesina, Epig. 7.

(Faustinus) from the hour the Julian Law
Revived, and chastity began to draw
By publique Edict into every House,
Scarce thirty days have pass'd,
Since Thelesine was askd,
And ten times over hath bin made a Spouse.
She that doth wed so oft, weds not at all:
But rather her we may more truly call
A meer legitimate Adulteresse:
A simple arrant wench offends me lesse

De Fabulla, Epig. 12.

Fabulla sweares
Those new bought hairs
Paulus now by her worne,
Are all her own,
Most truly shown;
Prethee is she forsworn?
If thou deny,
So cannot I.

Ad Priscum de Salonino, Epig. 18.

Salonine lyes interr'd in Spanish ground,
A sweeter shade nere pass'd the Stygian sound.
But it's a sin
To mourn for him.
For since (my Priscus) thou surviving art,
He lives yet in his more beloved part.

Ad Posthumum Causidicum, Epig. 19.

No action of battery,
Of murder, or of poyson, I
Pursue: but of three Kids bereft
I doe accuse my Neighbour's theft.
The Judge requires how I it know:
Thou tell'st th'Apulian overthrow,
The Pontick war, and perjury
Of Hannibal's rash cruelty,
Scylla and Marius, Mutius wrath,
With open mouth, and spead armes both.
Now Posthumus I prethee tell
At last where I my Kids may smell.

In Proculinam, Epig. 22.

Because thou joynst (my Proculine)
In Marriage with thy Concubine,
One that most palpably before
Did only love thee as a Whore,
Least that the Law thee should distresse,
Thou dost not Marry but confesse.

In Lesbiam, Epig. 23.

Lesbia thou seemst my Thomas to command,
As 'twere a finger at thy will to stand:
Which though thou temp'st with flatt'ring hands and voice,
Thy crosse grain'd face still countermands thy choice.

Epitaphium Glauciæ, Epig. 28.

The free born Boy of Melior
Which being dead, whole Rome mournd for,
His dearest Patron's short delight,
(Glaucias) interr'd in endlesse night
Under this marble Tombe doth ly,
The great Flaminian road hard by,
Of modest life, and purely chast
Accutely witty, and sweet faced,
Just twice six Harvests he passd by
Scarcely disroab'd of infancy,
O Traveller that these dost moan
Mayst thou nere weep such of thine own!

De eodem, Epig. 29.

No Slave of a Plebeian House or kind,
But a Lad worthy his Lord's love to finde,
Glaucia my Meliar's manumitted Boy
Scarce capable his gifts yet to enjoy,
This boon with life and form he did partake,
None look'd more lovely, none more sweetly spake.
‘Things too much doted on live short: and such
Thou wouldst love long, let them not please too much.

In Pætum, Epig. 30.

If thou hadst sent mee presentlie
Six sesterties, when first to mee
Thou saydst (my Pætus) take, I give,
Ide ow'd there ten score as I live.
But now to doe't with this delay
When seaven or nine months slipd away,
Wouldst have me tell thee what I think?
Pætus th'hast clearly lost thy chinck.

De Morte Othonis, Epig. 32.

Whiles yet Bellona doubts the warlike doom,
And softer Otho might have overcome,
He stops the costly charge of blood in War,
And by his sword fals his own murderer.
He liv'd a Cato, more than Cæsar too,
Yet dying, how like Otho he did doe?

Ad Diadumenum, Epig. 34.

Seale me squeez'd kisses (Diadumene)
How many? count the Billows of the Sea,
Or spread Cockles on th'Ægæan shore,
Or wandring Bees in the Cecropian store,
Or th'hands and voices in the Theatre
When Rome salutes her suddain Emperor:
I slight how many courted Lesbia gave
Catullus: he that numbers, few would have.

In Carinum, Epig. 37.

Medall so fine,
Short breech'd (Carine)
No vain superfluous reliques hast,
Yet itchest from the head to th'wast!
O wretch what pain
Dost thou sustain?
I'have no place for't,
Yet love the sport?

In Lygdum & Lectoriam, Epig. 45.

Y'have playd, enough, lascivious cronies wed,
No lust is lawfull but in marriage bed,
Is this love chast? Lygdus and Lectore joyn?
Shee'le prove a worse wife, than a Concubine.

In Pomponiam, Epig. 48.

Cause the long robe applaudes thine eloquence,
Tis not thy self, thy supper strikes the sence.

De Thelesino, Epig. 50

Whiles Thelesine embraced his chast friends stil.
His gown was short and thred-bare, cold and mean,
But since he serv'd foul Gamesters and obscæne
Now he buyes Fields, Plate, Tables at his will.
Wouldst thou grow rich Bithinicus? live vain:
Pure kisses will yield none, or little gain.

Ad Luperlum, Epig. 51.

Cause thou dost feast so often without mee
Luperlus, I have found a plague for thee.
Though thou dost importune, and send, and call,
I'le shew a seeming anger over all.
And when thou sayst, what wilt thou? doe in summ
What will I doe? I am resolv'd to come.

Epitaphium Pantagathi, Epig. 52.

Here lyes interrd cropt in his youthful years
Pantagathus, his Masters joy, and tears.
Learnd with a flying touch to trim loose hairs.
And shave the brisly cheek that roughly stares,
O earth lye pleasing! and light on him stand,
Thou canst not be more light then was his hand.

In Phœbum, Epig. 57.

Phœbus belyes with Oyle his fained haires,
And ore his scalp a painted border wears:
Thou needst no Barber to corect thy pate,
Phœbus a spung would better doe the feat.

In Invidum, Epig. 61.

Rome praises, loves, and sings my merry leaves,
Me every bosom, every hand receives.
One blushes, one growes pale, and one disdains,
One stands amazd, one hates me for my pains:
This was my great desire, my wishd increas,
Now now my verses, now my verses please.

Ad Marianum, Epig. 63.

Thou knowst thy self entrapd, and art aware
How coveteous he was that layd the snare.
And (Marian) needs must know his second care;
Yet notwithstanding dost make him thine heir,
And headily wouldst have him to succeed
Thee in thy goods and lands by thy last Deed.
Tis true he sent rich gifts, but layd in wire,
And can the Fish their murderer desire?
Or will he (Marian) truly weep for thee?
To have true tears, reverse thy Legacie.

De præcone Puellam vendente, Epig. 66.

Gællian the Cryer brought a Lass
To market, of smale fame to pass,
Such as in Baudy-houses sate:
Whiles she stood long at a smale rate,
He to approve her sound and good
Drew her near to him as she stood,
And kissd her three or four times ore
But wouldst thou know what fruit these bore?
Why he that bad six hundred pieces for her
Upon this score did utterly abhor her.

Ad Pannieum de Gellia uxore, Epig. 67.

Pannicus dost desire to know
Why thy Gellia keeps I trow
Eunuches only with her still?
Tis thy cunning Gellia's will,
To have the secret active sport,
Yet feel no throws nor anguish for't.

Ad Martianum, Epig. 70.

Cotta has livd full sixty years and more,
And yet (my Martian) never felt the sore
Affliction of a Feaver one short 'bout;
Thence though unchastly holds his finger out
Against Alcontis, Dacus, Symmachus,
But if our years were well computed thus,
And what sharp Feavers have took from us, what
Languishing grief, and sicknesse, we are not
Less then divided from the happier day,
We are but Boys in years and yet seem gray.
He that conceives (my Martian) Priam's age,
Or Nestor's to be long on the worlds stage,
Is much deceived, much out: for I thee tell
To be, is not call'd life, but to be well.

De Cilice Fure, Epig. 72.

Cilix a knave of noted theft,
Resolv'd to rob a Garden by:
But there was nought (Fabullus) left
But a huge Marble-dyetie.
Yet least his empty hand should miss its prey,
Cilix presumed to steal the god away.

Ad Lupum, Epig. 79.

How? Sad and rich? Beware least fortune catch
Thee Lupus, then she'le call thee thanklesse wretch.

In mortem Rufi Camonii Epig. 85.

In th'absence (Rufus) my sixth Booke is out,
But thou her Reader she doth sadly doubt,
Base Capadocia by a fate unjust
Gives to thy friends thy bones, to thee thy dust.
Widdowd Bononia bathe friend in tears,
While that Æmilia thy griefs eccho beares,
How Pious? but how short lived did he fall?
Five bare Olimpiads he had seen in all.
Rufus thou that wast wont to bear in minde
Out sports, and them in memory to finde
Accept this sad verse which I send,
As the sweet incense of thy absent friend.

De Thaide, Epig. 93.

Thais smells as ill as doth a Fullers vate
That long hath steepd, broke in the street of late:
The tyred Goats not more ranck, the breath and breech
Of Lyons, nor stripd Dogs-skins in a ditch;
Nor adle egg that putrifying lyes,
Nor pot of rotten fish that stinking dyes.
That she may change this plague for some sweet scent,
Naked and oft she doth the Baths frequent,
And shines with Oyle, lyes in sharp fennell hid,
Or in bean meale twice or thrice covered.
When safe by thousand slights her self she thinks,
When all's done, Thais still all Thais stinks.

Lib. 7.

De reditu Domitiani, Epig. 7.

Now sport, if ere, ye Muses with my vein,
From the north world the god returnes again.
December first brings forth the peoples vote,
Tis just we cry, He comes, with open throat.
Blest in thy chance, from Janus share the day
Since what he'd give, thou givest to us, our joy.
Let the crownd Souldier play his solemn sport,
While he attends the bayes invested Court
Tis right (great Cæsar) our light jokes to heare,
Since that thy Tryumph them doth love and beare.

De Casselio, Epig. 8.

When sixty years Casselius has liv'd meet,
He's witty: when will he be cald discreet?

Ad Faustinum, Epig. 11.

(Faustinus) to let Cæsar read my booke
With that same face he on my spots doth look.
As my Page hurts no one it justly hates,
I like no glory gain'd at blushrng rates.
What does it profit me? if others whet
Their spleen in my stile? and Jambiques sweat?
And in my name their viprous poyson vent?
Which cannot brook the day? or orient?
We blameless sport. Thou know'st it well, I swear
By Helicon, and every Genius there;
And by thy ears as dieties to mee,
Reader, I'me from inhumane envy free.

Ad Regulum, Epig. 15.

I have no money (Regulus) at home,
Only thy gifts to sell, wilt thou buy some?

In Gallum, Epig. 17.

When th'hast a face of which no woman may
And body without blur, have ought to say,
Why suitors thee so seldom doe repeat
And seek, dost wonder Galla? the fault's great,
As oft as thou and I in the worke joynd,
Thy lips were silent, but thou prat'st behinde.
Heavens grant that thou wouldst speak, but bridle that,
I'me angry with thy tatling Twit com Twat.
I'de rather hear thee fart: for Symmachus
Says that's a means of laughter unto us.
But who can smile to hear the foolish smack
Of thy loose Toul? and when it gives a crack
Whose minde and mettle will not fall? at least
Speak somthing that may usher in a jest
Of thy C---'s noise: but if thou art so mute,
Articulately learn thence to dispute.

De natali Lucani, ad Pollam, Epig. 20

This is the day known by its mighty birth
Which Lucane gave to thee, and to the Earth
O cruel Prince! more cursd in no decree,
This at least was not lawfull unto thee.

In Malum Poetam. Epig. 24.

When thou dost write sweet Epigrams alway,
Which look more smooth than painted features may,
Without one grane of salt, or dropp of gall,
O mad man wouldst thou have them read at al?
Meat does not please without it's vinegar,
Nor faces which in mirth nere wrinckled are,
Give luscious Figs and Pomes to Boyes: but mine
That please, are Figs that rellish Salt and Wine.

In Cæliam, Epig. 29.

To Parthians, Germans, Dacians thou art spread,
In Cappidocians and Cilicians bed.
From Memphis comes a whipster unto thee,
And a Black Indian from the red Sea;
Nor dost thou fly the circumcised Jew,
Nor can the Muscovite once passe by you;
Why being a Roman lasse dost do thus? tell,
Is't cause no Roman-knack can please so well?

De Cælio, Epig. 38.

When various walks, and dayes in wandring on,
And pride, and great mens salutation,
Cælius could not endure, and bear about,
He feign'd himself tormented with the gout,
Which while he strove to personate too much,
In a laborious gate upon his crutch,
Binding, and 'noynting his sound feet: O see
How much the care and curiositie,
And Art of feigned grief, did work and please!
Cælius has left dissembling his disease.

Ad Licinium Suram, Epig. 46.

Licinius! thou crown of learned men!
Whose tongue brought back our Grand-fathers agen,
Thou art restored, but with how great a fate?
Returnd almost from the eternal gate,
Our wishes now had loss'd their fear: secure
Our tears did weep thy losse as pass'd all cure.
But yet the King of death could not sustain
Our grief, and sent the fates their threds again.
Thou knowst what moan thy false death moved for thee,
Enjoy thy self in thy posteritie.
Live as thine own surviver, hug thy joy:
A life returnd will never loose a day.

De Annio, Epig. 47.

Annius two hundred Tables has I think,
And for those Tables Boyes to fill him drink.
The platters fly,
And charges run about most fluently.
Rich men take to your selves these Feasts and stir,
I care not for your walking supper Sir.

In umbrem, Epig. 52.

The five dayes presents which were given to thee
In the Saturnal Feasts thou sendst to mee.
Twelve threefoot Tables, and seven tooth pickers,
A Sponge, a Napkin, and a Cup with ears,
Two Pecks of Beans, of Olives one smal twig,
A bottle of course Spanish Wine to swig.
Smal Syrian Figs with musty damsins came,
And a huge cask of Lybian figs o'th same:
Thy gifts were worth scarce five shillings in all,
Which to me saild on thy eight Syrians tall.
With how much ease mightst thou have sent in short
Me five pounds by thy Boy and nere sweat fort.

De Cæcilianum, Epig. 58.

Without a Bore Cæcilan neere doth feast,
(Titus) Cæcilan has a pretty guest.

In Cinnamum, Epig. 63.

Thou wast a Barber through the Citty known,
Though by thy Mistris raised to the gown,
Of Knight-hood (Cinnamus) when thou shalt fly
The judgment of the Court to Sicily,
What Art shall then sustain thy uselesse age?
How will thy Fugitive rest foot the stage?
Thou canst not be Grammarian, Rhetorician,
Fencer, nor Cinick on any condition,
Nor yet a Stoick, nor canst sell thy tongue
Or thy applause in the Sicilian throng:
What then (my Cinnamus) doth yet remain?
Why thou must e'en turn shaver once again.

In Gargilanum, Epig. 64.

Full twenty years (Gargilian) thou hast lost
In one suit in three Courts to thy great cost.
O mad and wretched! that in strifes dost run
Through twenty years, and mayst be overcome?

De Labieno, Epig. 65.

Fabius left Labian heir to all his store:
Yet Labian sayes that he deserved more.

Ad Maximum, Epig. 72.

Thou hast a house on the Aventine hill,
Another where Dianan's worshipped still,
In the Patrician street more of them stand,
Hence thou beholdst within thine eyes command
The widdowed Cybells, thence Vesta with all,
There either Jove earth'd in the Capitall.
Where shall I meet thee? tell, where wilt appear.
‘He dwels just no where, that dwels every where.

In anum deformem, Epig. 74.

Wouldst thou be wimbled gratis when thou art
A wrinkled wretch deformd in every part?
O tis a thing more than ridiculous:
To take a man's full sum, and not pay Use?

Ad Philomusum, 75. Epig.

Cause great ones carry thee themselves to please
To Feasts, to Galleries, and Spectacles,
And Coach thee up and down, and bathe with thee
As oft as thou jump'st in their company:
Nere hug thy self for this, or look proud for't,
Th'art not beloved, but onely makest them sport.

In Tuccam, Epig. 76.

Tucca most earnestly doth look,
I should present him with my Book:
But that I will not: For I smell
My Book he will not read, but sell.

Ad Lausam, Epig. 80.

(Lausus) just thirty Epigrams in all,
My volume thou most truly bad mayst call:
But if beside so many good there be,
The Book is good enough then credit me.

De Eutrapelo, Epig. 82.

While that the Barber went to trim
And shave Lupercus chops and chin,
He was so tedious on the face
Another beard grew in the place.

Ad Sabellum, Epig. 84.

Cause thou dost pen Tetrasticks clean and sweet
And some few pretty disticks with smooth feet,
I praise but not admire:
Tis easie to acquire
Short modest Epigrams that pretty look,
But it is hard and tough to write a book.

In Sextum, Epig. 85.

Sextus was wont me to his feasts to call,
When I was scarce made known to him at all
What have I done so late? so sudenly?
That I his old companion am pass'd by?
After so many pledges, many years?
But I perceive the cause: no gift appears
Of beaten silver from me, no light coat,
No cloak, fee, or negotiating groat.
Sextus invites his gifts, but not his friends.
Then cryes his servants bones shall make amends.

Epitaphium Urbici Pueri, Epig. 95.

My Parents grief I here lye in this Tombe,
Who had my birth and name from mighty Rome:
Six months I wanted of three years to mee,
When my life's thred was cut by destinie.
What favour shall age, tongue, or beauty have?
Thou that readst this shed some teares on my grave.
So he that thou wouldst have thy self survive,
Shall longer then decre pit Nestor live.

De Milone, Epig. 101.

Milo is not at home, but travell'd out,
His fields ly barren, but his wife doth sprout:
But why's his land so bare? his wife so full?
His land has none, his wife has many a pull.

Lib. 8.

Ad Librum suum, Epig. 1.

Thou that art entring the tryumphant Court,
Learn with a blushing grace more chast to sport.
Strip'd Uenus hence: this is not thy book,
Great Cæsar's goddess come, and on me look.

Ad Cæsarem Domitianum, Epig. 4.

How great a concourse of the world doth bring
Their Iô? and make prayers for their king?
But this is not alone a humane joy,
Cæsar, the gods themselves keep Holy-day.

In Cinnam, Epig. 7.

Cinna is this to plead? and wisely say
Only nine words in ten hours of the day?
But with a mighty voyce thou cravest for thee
The hour-glass twice two times revers'd to bee,
Cinna, how great's thy taciturnitie!

Ad Quinctum, Epig. 9.

Nine ounces blear-ey'd Hylas would have payd
Now dusk he tenders half thy debt delayd:
Take his next offer: gain's occasion's short,
If he prove blinde, thou wilt have nothing for't.

De Basso, Epig. 10.

Bassus bought cloaks of the best Tyrian dy,
Forbear ten thousand pieces, gaind thereby:
But was his bargain so good cheap you'le say?
He took it upon trust, or stole't away.

Ad Priscum, Epig. 12.

Dost ask why I'de not marry a rich wife?
I'le not be subject in that double strife.
Let matrons to their heads inferior be
Else man and wife have no equalitie.

De Cinna, Epig. 19.

Cinna would seem to need,
And so he does indeed.

Ad Luciferum, Epig. 21.

Phosphor produce the day: why dost delay
Our joys? lo, Cæsar comes, produce the day.
Rome begs it. What slow Chariot carryes thee?
What signe? that thy sweet rayes retarded bee?
Take Cyllaron from the Ledæan Star,
Castor himself will lend his Horse for war,
Why dost rein in the forward eager Sun?
Apollo's Courser with their harness on,
Aurora waites: but yet the spangled night
Will not give room to the more glorious light,
Diana longs to see the Ausonian king,
Come Cæsar, though in night, thy presence bring:
For though the Stars their revolution stay,
Thee coming we shall never want a day.

Ad Cæsarem Domitianum, Epig. 24.

If I in fear chance to petition thee,
If I'me not impudent, vouchsafe it mee.
If thou'lt not grant, daign to be askd in love,
Incense and Prayers ne're offended Jove.
‘He that an Image frames in gold or stone,
‘Makes not a god, he that kneels, makes it one.

In Oppianum, Epig. 25.

Oppiane thou only once didst come to see
Me very sick: I'le oftner visit thee.

Ad Gaurum, Epig. 27.

Gaurus he that doth gifts bestow
On thee both rich and old,
If thou art wise thou needs must know
Hee'd have thee dead and cold.

In pessimos Conjuges, Epig. 35.

When that yee are so like in life
An extream wicked man and wife,
I wonder how you live in strife.

Ad Priapum, Epig. 40.

No Guardian of a Garden, or vine bud,
But (my Priapus) of a mighty wood,
From whence th'art born, and again born mayst bee,
I charge thee keep all thievish hands from me.
Preserve thy Masters grove for firing too,
For if that faile, we shall finde wood in you.

Ad Faustinum, Epig. 41.

Sad Athenagoras us no presents sent
Which in the winter he did still present:
I'le see (Faustinus) if he be so sad,
I'm sure he me hath truly sorry made.

Ad Cestum Puerum, Epig. 46.

How sweet's thy vertue, and thy shape to us?
Cestus my Boy, chast as Hippolitus!
Diana's self may teach, and swim with thee,
More wish'd then Phrygus by old Cybele.
Thou mayst succeed Ganymede in his place,
And unsuspected Smug the Thund'rer's face.
O happy she shall climbe thy tender bed!
And make thee man first for a maiden head!

In variè se tondentem, Epig. 47.

Part of thy hair is shorn, part shaved to thee,
Part pull'd: who'le think it but one head to be.

De Aspro, Epig. 49.

Blinde Asper loves a lass that beauteous is,
Yet as it seems he loves more than he sees.

Ad Cæsarem Domitianum, Epig. 54.

Though thou givest great boons oft, and wilt give more
O King of Kings, and thy self's Conquerour!
The people love thee not cause they partake
Thy Blessings: But thy Blessings for thy sake.

Ad Flaccum, Epig. 56.

When to our age times may subscribe of yore,
And Rome's encreased great with her Emperour,
Dost wonder Maro's fancy wanting is?
And none sound wars like that brave Trump of his?
Let patrons (Flaccus) Poets soon will bee,
Thy Country shall yield Uirgil unto thee.
When near Cremona Tytirus did weep
His wretched acres, and loss'd flock of sheep
The royal Tuscan smiled: Fell poverty
Repuls'd, and by command away to fly:
Bad him be rich, and best of Poets bee,
And cryed my sweet Alexis love with mee.
He that most amiable did waiting stand
Filling black falerne wine with snowy hand,
And tasted cups gave to his rosie lip,
Which might solicite Jove himselfe to sip.
Course Galatea from the Poet drops,
And Sun-burnt Thestilis in harvest crops.
Forthwith he fancied Rome, arms, and the Prince:
Which the poor Gnat mournd but a moment since.
What should I quote the Uari? Marsi? and
The glorious names of Poets rich in land?
Which to recfunt would be a tedious pain?
Shall I then be thy Virgil, if again
Thou wilt Mæcenas bounty shew to mee?
I'le not thy Virgil, but thy Marsus bee.

De Picente, Epig. 57.

Old Picens had three teeth which from him come
As he sat coughing hard over his Tombe:
Which fragments he tooke up into his brest
Dropd from his mouth: Then laid his bones to rest.
Least that his Heire should not them safely see
Interr'd: He did himself the curtesie.

Ad Entellum, Epig. 68.

Oh that the famed Alcinous garden sees
May well prefer (Entellus) thine to his.
Least nipping winter peirce the purple grapes,
And on the Vines smart Frosts commit their rapes.
Thy vintage in a gem inclosed lyes,
And the Grape cover'd, not hid from our eyes.
So female shapes shine through their Tifanie,
And Pibbles in the waters numbred bee,
What would not nature free, to wit, impart?
When winter's made an Autumn by thy art.

In Uacerram, Epig. 69.

Thou only dost admire old Poets past,
And praisest none but such have writ their last:
Hence I beseech (Uacerra) pardon mee,
Tis not worth perishing to humor thee.

Ad Liberum amicum, Epig. 77.

(Liber) thy friends sweet care! worthy to bee
Crownd with Rose-buds to all eternitie!
Art wise? still let thy hair with unguents flow!
While flowry garlands compasse in thy brow!
May thy clear glass with falerne wine black prove!
And thy soft bed growe warme with softer love!
A life thus led, though in its youth resign'd,
Is made much longer than it was design'd.

In Fabullum, Epig. 79.

When wrinckled Beldames thy familiars bee,
Or filthy Bauds, or worse if ought you see,
When these compagnions thou dost leade a-long
Through every Feast with thee, and walke, and throng,
(Fabulla) thus compared we needs must say
Th'art handsome and dost bear the bell a-way.

Lib. 9.

Ad Domitianum, Epig. 4.

If thou shouldst challenge what is due to thee
From heaven, and its creditor wouldst bee;
If publique sale should be cryed through the sphæres,
And th'gods sell all to satisfy arrears,
Atlas will banq'rrupt prove, nor one ounce bee
Reserved for Jupiter to treat with thee.
What canst thou for the Capitol receive?
Or for the honour of the Laurel-wreath?
Or what will Juno give thee for her shrine?
Pallas I pass, she waits on thee and thine.
Alcides, Phœbus, Pollux I slip by
And Flavia's Temple neighb'ring on the sky.
Cæsar thou must forbear, and trust the heaven:
Jove's Chest has not enough to make all even.

In Æschylum, Epig. 5.

When for two guilders Galla thou might'st swive,
And more then so if thou it double give:
Æschylus why did she take ten of thee?
The feate's not worth it: what? the secresie.

In Paullam, Epig. 6.

Paulla thou very fain wouldst Priscus wed,
I wonder not, tis witty so to doe:
But Priseus will not medle with thy bed,
And therein he is full as witty too.

In amicum Cænipetam, Epig. 15.

Dost think this man whom thy Feast makes thy freind
A heart of faithfull friendship can pretend?
He loves thy brawn thy oysters, but not thee,
Let me sup so, he shall be friend to mee.

In Afrum, Epig. 26.

As oft as we thy Hyllus doe behold
Filling thy wine, thy browes doe seem to scold,
What crime is't, I would know to view thy Boy?
We look upon the gods, the stars, the day,
Shall I fling back as when a Gorgon lyes
Steep'd in the cup? and hide my face and eyes?
Great Hercules was feirce in crueltie
Yet we might see his pretty Hylas free:
Nor would great Jove have ought in wrath to say
If Mercury with Ganimede did play.
(Afer) if then we must not view thy loose
Soft ministers that serve thee in thy house,
Invite such men as Phineas to bee
Thy guests or Oedipus that nere could see.

Epitaphium Latini, Epig. 29.

The stage his sweet renown, the fame
Of playes, Latinus known by name,
I here lye seiz'd in deaths cold night,
Thy great applause, thy delight.
I that could make strict Cato be
My joy'd spectator, and at mee
The Curii and Fabricii smile
And loose their gravity the while.
But yet my life nere bore away.
Ought from the theatre or play,
I only there did act my part
Not out of nature, but by art.
Nor could I to great Cæsar bee
Grateful without my vanitie.
Yet Deifi'd Domitian might
See that my inward parts were right.
But ye may call me at your will
A Parasite of Phœbus still,
While Rome may know me rais'd above
Into the family of Jove.

Qualem velit amicam, Epig. 33.

I love a Lasse that's apt, and plain doth goe,
And with my Boy hath had a bout or two.
And her that two-pence makes her mine all ore,
And being one can tugg with half a Score,
Shee that asks pay, and in bigg straines doth ball,
Let her bee drudg to thickskinn'd Burdigal.

In Ponticum. Epig. 42.

(Ponticus) Cause thou ne're doth swive,
But some by-lusts contentment give,
And thy more conscious hands supply
The service of thy venery:
Dost think that this is no offence?
(Believe it) it's damn'd excellence
Is of so foule and high a weight
Thou can'st not reach it in conceipt.
Horace but once did doe the feat
That he three glorious twins might get,
Mars and chast Ilia once did joyn
That Rome's great founders they might coyn.
All had been loss'd, had either's list,
Spent his foule pleasure in his fist.
When thus then thou shalt tempted bee
Think that Dame nature cryes to thee,
That which thy fingers doe destroy
O Pontieus it is a Boy.

In Gaurum. Epig. 51.

Gaurus approves my wit but slenderly,
Cause I write verse that please for brevity,
But he in twenty volumes drives a trade
Of Priam's warrs. O hee's a mighty blade!
We give an Elegant young pregnant birth,
He makes a dirty Gyant all of earth.

In Mamurram. Epig. 60.

Mamurra, long and much stalk'd up and down
The stalls, where all the goods are fold in Rome,
Beholds the boyes, and with them feeds his eyes,
Nere prostitute from their first cottages,
Such whom the Cages kept in secresie,
Close from my cronies and the peoples eye,
Thence ful, he calls for the round tables down,
And t'have the high placed Ivory open showne,
And measuring the Tortoise beds thrice ore,
As too small for his Cypress groaned sore.
Then smells if purely Corinth the brass scent,
And Delian statues give him no content.
Complains the crystalls mix'd with Courser glass.
Marks myrrhine Cupps, and ten aside doth place,
Cheapens old baskets and if any were
Wrought cups by noble Mentur's cunning there,
And numbers the green Em'ralds layd in gold,
Or any from the eares that take their hold,
Then seeks true gems in table boards most nice.
And of rich pretious Jaspers asks the price.
Tyred and departing when the eleventh houre come,
He bought two farthing cupps, and carr'd them home.

In Æschylum, Epig. 68.

I enjoyd a buxsom lass all night with mee,
Which none could overcome in venerie.
Thousand wayes tyred, I askd that childish thing,
Which she did grant at the first motioning,
Blushing and laughing I a worse besought,
Which she most loose vouchsafed as quick as thought.
Yet she was pure, but if she deale with you
Shee'l not be so, and thou shalt pay dear too.

In Cæcilianum, Epig. 71.

O times! ô manners! Tully cry'd of old
When Cateline his curs'd plot did unfold,
When Cæsar and great Pompey took the field,
And civill war with blood the ground did guild.
Why dost thou cry ô times, ô manners now?
What doth displease (Cæcilian) what cramps you?
There's not contest of Princes, no swords rage,
But peace and gladness all the world asswage,
‘Tis not our guilt makes the times bad to thee,
‘Thy own (Cæcilian) force them such to bee.

In Sutorem, Epig. 74.

O thou whose teeth were wont to reach old hides,
And gnaw base rotten soles with dirty sides,
Thou hast thy Patron's lands now in thy grave,
In which I vexe that thou a crib shouldst have,
And drunk dost break the christals with burn wine,
And frigst thy late Lord's Boy as he were thine.
With letters my sad Parents fooled mee,
O learning, what have I to doe with thee?
Thalia burn thy Books, and thy quills too,
If Coblers get such boons from an old shooe.

De effigie Camoni, Epig. 77.

This which you see is my Camonus face,
Such his young looks, such his first beauty was.
Thy countenance grew stronger twice ten years
Till a beard cream'd his cheeks with downy haires.
The offer'd Purple once his shoulders spread,
But one of the three Sisters wish'd him dead,
And thence his hast'ned thred of life did cut,
Which to his Father in a sad Urne put
Came from his absent pile: but least alone
This Picture should present his beauty gone,
His Image yet more sweetly drawn shall be
In never dying papers writ by mee.

De Gellia, Epig. 81.

An old rich wife starv'd Gellius bare and poore
Did wed: So she cramm'd him and he cram'd her.

Ad Auctum, Epig. 82.

My readers and my hearers like my Books,
But a quaint Poet sayes th'are not done cleare:
I care not much for pleasing of the Cooks,
If that my guests affect my slender cheare.

In Munnam, Epig. 83.

Th'Astrologer fore-told of thee,
That thou shouldst perish sudden lie;
Nor (Munna) doe I think he told a lye;
For thou for fear least there should bee
Ought left for thy posteritie,
Hast wasted all thy wealth in luxurie,
Thy brace of millions in one year was spent,
Was not this perishing incontinent?

Ad Rufum; Epig. 89.

While thou didst seek my love, thou senst mee some
Presents, but now thou hast it no gifts come.
That thou mayst hold mee (Rufus) still bee free
Least th'ill fed Bore break from his franck and flie.

Domitiano Adulatorium, Epig. 92.

If that a diverse invitation came
At once in Jove's and in great Cæsar's name,
Though that the Stars were near, Rome more remote,
The gods in answer should have this my vote,
Go seek an other that Jove's guest would bee,
My Jupiter on Earth hath fett'red mee.

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.

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.

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.

12. Lib. 12.

De Ligeia, Epig. 7.

If by thy hairs thy age be to be told,
Ligeia by thy crown th'art three years old.

De Africano, Epig. 10.

African has a thousand pound in store,
Yet he desires, and hunts, and rakes for more:
Fortune hath overmuch bestow'd on some;
But plenary content to none doth come.

In Posthumum Epig. 12.

Whiles in loose Cups thou top'st the night away,
Then thou wilt promise any thing to doe,
But nothing wilt performe on the next day,
Pray (Posthumus) drink in the morning too.

Ad Auctum, Epig. 13.

Anger's a kinde of gain that rich men know:
It costs them less to hate then to bestow.

Adulatorium Cæsari, Epig. 15.

Whatever shined in the Parrhasian Hall
Is to our eyes and to our gods given all,
Jupiter stands and wonders to behold
Himself in Scythian flames of sparckling gold;
Great Cæsar's pleasant pride, and vast expence.
These Cups may suit with Jove's magnificence,
Such as may well become the Phrygian Boy,
Now all with Jove are rich and clad with joy.
It shames it shames me to confess of yore
How all of us with Jove were very poor.

In Lentinum, Epig. 17.

Lentinus why dost thou complain and groan
That all this while thine Ague is not gone?
Hee's carried in a Chair, and bath'd with thee,
Eates Mushrooms, Oysters, Sow's paps, and Brawn free,
Oft fox'd with Setine, oft with Falerne Wine,
Nor Cæcube drinks without its Snow to joyn,
Lyes compass'd in with Rose-buds, black with sweets,
In a rich purple Bed, soft Down, fine Sheets.
When he doth live so well so brave with thee,
Wouldst have thy Ague to poor Dama flie?

In Thelesinum, Epig. 25.

When money without pledg I ask of thee,
I have it not thou soon replyst to mee.
Yet thou the same man if my field or land
Will but pass for me, hast it out of hand.
When to thy friend thou wilt not credit give,
Thou cann'st my little hils and trees believe.
Lo, thou art to be banish'd: Come field prethee,
Wouldst have me now? No, let my field go with thee.

Ad Julium Martialem, Epig. 34.

Julius 'twas foure and thirty year,
That thou and I together were.
Sweeter dayes were mix'd with soure,
But yet the pleasanter were more.
And if we should divide the time
with a diverse coloured line,
The white would over-vie the black.
If thou wouldst shun the bitter smack,
And stinging tortures of the mind,
No man to thee too much bind,
Or too much in thy friend believe:
Thou shalt joy less, and lesse shalt grieve.

In Pontilianum, Epig. 40.

When thou dost lye, I seemingly believe,
When thou repeatst bad verse, my praise I give,
When thou dost sing (Pontilian) I sing out,
And when thou dost carouse, I drink about,
When thou dost fart, I grunt too in conceipt,
And when thou playst at Chesse, I am still beat.
Yet thou dost give nothing: dead, you cry
I shall be heir: I care not, prethee dye.

In Tuccam, Epig. 41.

Tis not sufficient that thou drunk hast been,
But thou desirest so to be call'd and seen.

Ad Phœbum, Epig. 45.

Thou that with Leather cap hast covered
The naked Temples of thy hair strippd head,
How elegantly did he sport and plod,
(Phœbus) that verified thy head was shod.

In habentem varios Mores, Epig. 47.

Thou the same man hard, soft, sweet, bitter art,
Nor can I live with thee, nor yet apart.

In Lautum Invitatorem, Epig. 48.

If Brawn and Mushrooms thou servst up as vile,
As though I wish'd them not, know tis my will.
If thou conceiv'st me wealthy, and wouldst bee
My Heir for five bare Oysters, farwel thee.
But yet thy supper's rich, most rich, yet there
To day, to morrow, streight nought will appeare,
That thy unhappy Maide's base broom know may,
Or Dog, or house of Office by the way.
Of Barbles, Hares, and Sow's paps this the end,
A pale sulpherous look, and gowty friend.
Domitian's Feast's not so much worth to me,
Nor Jove's, nor can the high Priest's junckets bee.
Upon this score should Jove bring Nectar here,
It were as dead Wine, or Crab-vineger.
Some other guests go seek Sir to your meat,
Whom the vast kingdoms of thy chear may cheat.
My friend to some short Steaks may me invite,
I like that Supper which I can requite.

In habentem amœnas ædes, Epig. 50.

Thou hast bay Groves, plain, and high Cypress Trees,
And Baths for more than one man's privacies.
Thy lofty Porch on hundred Pillars joynes,
And the spurn'd Onix under thy feet shines.
The flying hoofs the dusty race rejoyce,
And falls of water each where make a noyse,
Thy Courts stretch wide: But yet no place we smell
To sup, or sleep. How well thou dost not dwell!

De Fabullo, Epig. 51.

Why (Aullus) dost thou wonder that
Fabullus is so oft snapt by deceipt?
I'le give thee satisfaction streight,
A good man's still an undergraduate.

Ad Semproniam, Epig. 52.

He that his brows deck'd with the Muses crowne
Whose voyce to guilty men no less was known
Sempronia here thy Rufus, here is layd.
Whose dust even with thy love still drives a trade,
'Mongst the blest shades thy story he doth bear,
And Helen's self thy rape admires to hear,
Thou better from thy spoyler didst returne,
She though redeem'd did after Troy still burn.
Menalaus laughs and hears the Ilian loves,
Thy rape old Paris guilt forgives, removes.
And when thee those blessed mansions shall receive,
No shade greater acquaintance there shall have.
Proserpine loves although she cannot see
Such rapes, that love shall make her kinde to thee.

In Avarum, Epig. 53.

When thou hast so much coyn and wealth with thee
That seldom Cittizens or Fathers see.
Yet are not liberal, but thy heaps hangst ore
Like the great Dragon, whom the Bards of yore
Feign'd to be keeper of the Scythian Grove,
But the base cause of this thy Muck-worm love,
Thou brag'st and dost pretend thy Son to bee:
Why dost delude us with this foolerie
As though we Blocks or Idiots had bin?
Thou wast a Father ever to this sin.

In Zoilum, Epig. 54.

Red haird, black faced, club-footed, and blear-eyed,
Zoilus tis much if thou art good beside.

In Polycarmum, Epig. 56

Thou ten times in a year art sick or more.
This is not thine (my friend) but tis our sore.
No sooner well but for thy gifts dost call.
Blush: Prethee once be sick for good and all.

Ad suum Natalem, Epig. 60.

Dear son of Mars, wherein I first did see
Great Phœbus rosie-glittering Dietie.
If Countrey worship, and green Altars may
Displease, cause I at Rome observ'd thy day?
Pardon, if there thy Calends slighted bee,
And on my Birth-day if I would live free.

De Ligurra, Epig. 62.

Ligurra thou dost fear that I
Verses, and quick sharp Poetry
Would spend upon thee, and desirest to bee
Thought worthy of that fear conceiv'd on mee,
But thou in vain dost tremble and desire,
On Bulls the Lybian Lyons their strength tyre,
But are not troublesom to Butter flies:
Seek then, if thou dost wish thy name should rise,
Some poor Pot-poet of the sooty Vault,
That with a course Coale, or some putrid Chaulk
Writes verses, which are read upon Close-stooles,
Thy head shall nere be raised with my tools.

De Phillede, Epig. 66.

When beauteous Phillis to me all the night,
Had gave her self in all garbes of delight,
And in the morning I began to sound
What gift were best, of Cosmus sweets a pound,
Or Niceros his Unguents, or of fine
Rich Spanish Wooll eight pound, or Cæsar's coyn
Ten yellow boyes: My neck embraced shee,
And with as long a kisse alluring mee
As marriages of Doves are making up,
Phillis desired nought else but a merry Cup.

Ad Clientes, Epig. 69.

Thou early Client that didst cause mee fly
The Citty, some ambitious Courts imply,
I am no Lawyer, nor ordaind for strife,
But slow, and old, and of a quiet life.
Rest, and sweet sleep delight me: Which great Rome
Denyed: If I must watch here too, I'le come.

Ad Cautullum, Epig. 74.

I am thy Heir Cantullus, thou hast said it,
But I will not believe it till I read it.

De Callistrato, Epig. 82.

Least that Callistratus should not
Praise worthy men, he praises all;
He that thinks no one hath a blot,
Whom can he then a good man call?

De Umbro, Epig. 83.

In winter time and Saturn's holy dayes
Umber when poor did me present alwayes
With finest Wheat: but now with courser grain,
For now hee's rich, and made a man of gain.

Ad Charinum, Epig. 91.

Charinus cause thou bind'st thy head with wooll,
Tis not thy ears that grieve: Tis thy ball'd skull.

De Marone, Epig. 92.

Maro a Vow did make but somthing lowd
For an old Friend, by a feirce Ague bow'd;
That if this sickness spared him from the Grave,
Great Jove a grateful Sacrifice should have.
The Doctors promised certain health: O now
Maro makes Vowes to scape the former Vow.

Ad Priscum, Epig. 95.

Priscus thou oft dost ask what I would bee
If I were rich and rais'd to Potencie.
Can any man his future soule declare?
Suppose thou wert a Lyon: How wouldst stare?

In Tuccam, Epig. 96.

I penn'd an Epod: Thou beganst to write?
Therefore I ceas'd, least thine with mine unite.
My Muse to Tragick fancies soard her strain,
Thou strov'st to fit the buskin to thy brain.
Thence then I touch'd the Harp with learned skill,
With new ambition thou pursu'dst mee stil.
I Satyrs dared: Thou more exact wouldst bee,
I playd light Elegee's, thou ecchod'st mee;
What could be less? I Epigrams did frame:
And here thou soughtst to rob me of my fame.
Say what thou wilt not: Blush all things to bee:
And what thou wilt not, Tucca leave to mee.

In Bassum, Epig. 99.

When thou awife so youthful hast,
So rich, so noble, wise, and chast,
That the most wicked Goat that is
A better cannot wish for his.
Thou spendst thy strength with Boyes (we see)
Which thy wife's dowry bought for thee,
So to his Mistris thy Prick comes
Tyred, thus redeemed with mighty summs.
Nor will he stand though tempted by
The voyce's or thumbs flattery.
Blush then, or let the Law unfold it,
(Bassus) this is not thine, th'hast sold it.

Ad Mattum, Epig. 102.

He that denyes himself at home
When thou dost knock to see,
Dost thou not know his meaning in't?
He is a sleep to thee.

Ad Milonem, Epig. 103.

Th'art wont to sell clothes, incense, pretious stone,
Cloaks, pepper, silver, bought away th'are gone:
Thy wife's a better chaffer: Though oft sold
She never doth forsake thee, or loose hold.

Libell. Spect.

Epig. 1.

In silence Nile thy miracles conceale
Nor let great Babylon her cost reveale,
May the soft gloryes of Diana's fane
Sinck with the Cuckold-god that hornd Jove's name.
Nor let the Carian People boast so high
Their hanging Monuments twixt earth and sky.
Whiles Cæsar's single Piece confines alone
Fame and the world to one encomion.

In Opera publica Cæsaris, Spect. Epig. 2.

Here where that high Coloss the Stars surveys,
And lofty engines swell up in the wayes
The envied Courts of Nero shined: And one
One only house this Citty filld alone.
Here where the Amphitheatres vast Pile
Is now erected were his Pools ere while.
Where we admire the Baths that running gift
The proud Field from poor men their dwellings shrift.
Where Claudia's Walk extends its ample shade
Was the extream part of his Pallace made.
Rome's to it self returnd, And by thee they
Though once thine Cæsar, are the Peoples joy.

De Gentium confluxu & congratulatione, Epig. 3.

What Nation's so remote or barbarous
That has not some spectator here with us?
The Thracian High-shooe from Mount Hæmus comes,
And Russians that in bloud pick up their crums,
He that sips the first streams of suddain Nile
And he that in the utmost Sea doth toyle.
Th'Arabian and Sabæans hither beat,
And moist Cilicians in their unguents sweat.
The Germans with their hair curld in a ring
And th'otherwise crisp'd Moores their presence bring.
The voyce sounds divers, but the votes agree
When Rome's true Father thou art said to bee.

Ad Cæsarem quod expulerit delatores, Epig. 4.

An envious crue to pleasant rest and peace
Which wretched wealth still studyed to increase
Are to the Getes exil'd: Nor could the sand
Receive the guilty Vagabonds on land.
So now the Teazers have
That bannishment they gave.
The Pick-thank's bannish'd the Ausonian gate,
The lifes of Princes from their gifts take date.

De Dædalo, Epig. 8.

Now Dædalus thou thus art torne
By the Lucanian Bear,
How dost thou with thy waxen wings
Again to cut the Ayre?

De sue quæ ex vulnere peperit, Epig. 13.

Peircd with a deadly Dart the wounded Mother
At one time loos'd one life and gave another.
How sure the levell'd Steel the right hand throwes!
This was Lucina's arme I doe suppose.
Diana's double power she did sustain,
When th'Parents was deliverd and yet slain.

De Orpheo, Epig. 21.

What Thrace on Orpheus Stage was said to see
Cæsar the Sand exhibits here to thee.
The Rocks have crept, and the strange Wood did move,
Such as was once believd th'Hisperian Grove.
A mingled troop of all wilde Beasts were there,
And ore the Bard a cloud of Birds in th'aire.
But he lay torn by the ungrateful Bear
As it came feigned thence so twas true here.

De Priseo & vero Gladiatoribus, Epig. 29.

When Priscus and Uerus did enter the field
And their valour proved equall and neither would yield,
The people besought that they parted might bee
But Cæsar the law of Armes would satisfie.
The Law was to cuff it out at fingers end,
Thence cherishing Cups and gifts he oft did fend,
A conclusion at last this equal strife found,
They both box'd alike, and both fell to the ground.
Cæsar to both gave rods, both did reward
Such guerdons their vertue found that fought so hard
This thing hath happ'd (Cæsar) to no Prince but thee,
When two men contended both victors should be.

Poems.

The Publique Faith.

A Lenten Letany.

Composed for a confiding Brother, for the benefit and edification of the faithful Ones.

A Hue and Cry

after the Reformation.

When Temples lye like batter'd Quarrs,
Rich in their ruin'd Sepulchers,
When Saints forsake their painted glass
To meet their worship as they pass,
When Altars grow luxurious with the dye
Of humane bloud,
Is this the floud
Of Christianity?
When Kings are cup-boarded like cheese,
Sights to be seen for pence a piece,
When Dyadems like brokers tyre
Are custom'd reliques set to hire
When Soverainty and Scepters loose their names
Stream'd into words
Carv'd out by swords
Are these refining flames?
When subjects and Religion stir
Like Meteors in the Metaphor,
When zealous hinting and the yawn
Excize our Miniver and Lawn
When blue digressions fill the troubled ayre
And th'Pulpit's let
To every Set
That will usurp the chair?
Call yee me this the night's farewel
When our noon day's as darke as Hell?
How can we less than term such lights
Ecclesiastick Heteroclites?
Bold sons of Adam when in fire you crawle
Thus high to bee
Perch'd on the tree
Remember but the fall.
Was it the glory of a King
To make him great by suffering?
Was there no way to build God's House
But rendring of it infamous?
If this be then the merry ghostly trade?
To work in gall?
Pray take it all
Good brother of the blade.
Call it no more the Reformation
According to the new translation,
Why will you wrack the common brain
With words of an unwonted strain?
As plunder? or a phrase in senses cleft?
When things more nigh
May well supply
And call it down right theft.
Here all the School-men and Divines
Consent, and swear the naked lines
Want no expounding or contest,
Or Bellarmine to breake a jest.
Since then the Heroes of the pen with mee
Nere scrue the sense
With difference,
We all agree agree.

A Committee.

On the happy Memory of Alderman Hoyle that hang'd himself.

On Clarinda Praying.

On Clarinda Singing.

Platonique Love.

A Sigh.

Love's Farewell.

Christmas Day;

Or the Shutle of an inspired Weaver bolted against the Order of the Church for its Solemnity.

Good Fryday.

Easter Day.

Holy Thursday.

Whitsunday.

A short Ejaculation Upon that truly worthy Patron of the Law Sr. John Bridgman Kt. and Lord Chief Justice of Chester and the Marshes of Wales deceased.

Obsequies On that right Reverend Father in God John Prideaux late Bishop of Worcester deceased.

On the death of his Royall Majesty Charles late King of England &c.

An Epitaph.

A Survey of the World.

An old Man Courting a young Girle.

Come beauteous Nymph, canst thou embrace
An aged, wise, majestick grace
To mingle with thy youthfull flames?
And make thy glories stayd? The Dames
Of looser gesture blush to see
Thy Lillies cloth'd with gravitie?
Thy happier choice? thy gentle Uine
With a sober Elm entwine?
Seal fair Nymph that lovely tye
Shall speak thy honour loud and high.
Nym:
Cease Grandsire Lover, and forbear
To court me with thy Sepulcher,
Thy chill December and my May,
Thy Evening and my Break of Day
Can brook no mixture, no condition,
But stand in perfect opposition.
Nor can my active heart embrace
A shivering Ague in love's chase.
Only perhaps the luky tye
May make thy forked fortune high.

Man:
If fretted roofs, and beds of down,
And the wonder of the Town,
Bended knees, and costly fare,
Richest dainties without care,
May temptatious motives bee
Here they all attend on thee,
And to raise thy blisse the more,
Swell thy Truncks with pretious Ore,
The glittering entrailes of the East
To varnish and perfume thy Nest.

Nym.
I question not Sage Sir but shee
That weds your grave obliquitie,
Your Tizick, Rhewms, and Soldans face
Shall meet with Fretted Roofs apace,
I fancy not your bended knees
Least bowing you can sprightly rise,
Your gold too when you leave to woo
Will quickly become Pretious too.
And dainty Cates without delight,
May glut the day but starve the night.
For when thou boasts the Beds of bliss,
The man, the man still wanting is.

Man.
Nay gentle Nymph think not my fire
So quench'd, but that the strong desire
Of love can wake it, and create
New action to cooperate.
The sparks of youth are not so gone,
But I—ay marry that I can.
Come smack mee then me pretty dear,
Tast what a lively change is here.
Why fly'st thou me?—

Nym.

Man.
Hold hasty soul, beauty's a flower
That may perish in an hour,
No disease but can disgrace
The trifling blossoms of a face,
And nip the heights of those fond toyes
That now are doted on with praise.
The noon-glory of the Sun
To the shades of night must come.
May, for all her guilded prime
Has its weak and withering time.
Not a bud that owes its birth
From the teeming-mother earth
But excells the fading dress
Of a womans loveliness.
For when flowers vanish here
They may spring another year.
But frail beauty when 'tis gone
Findes no resurrection.
Scorn me then coy Nymph no more,
Fly no higher, doe not soare,
Those pretty rubies of thy lips
Once must know a pale Eclipse.
And that plump alluring skin
Will be furrow'd deeply in.
And those curled locks so bright
Time will all besnow with white.
Not a glory, not a glance,
But must suffer change and chance.
Then, though now you'l not contact
With me in the marriage Act,
Yet perforce chuse, chuse you whether
You and I shall Lye together.

An Epitaph on his deceased Friend.

Here lies the ruin'd Cabinet
Of a rich soul more highly set.
The drosse and refuse of a minde
Too glorious to be here confin'd.
Earth for a while bespake his stay
Only to bait and so away:
So that what here he doted on
Was meerly accommodation.
Not that his active soul could bee
At home, but in eternitie.
Yet while he blest us with the rayes
Of his short continued daies,
Each minute had its weight of worth,
Each pregnant hour some Star brought forth.
So whiles he travell'd here beneath
He liv'd, when others only breathe.
For not a sand of time slip'd by
Without its action sweet as high.
So good, so peacable, so blest,
Angels alone can speak the rest.

Mount Ida, or, Beauties Contest.

Upon a Flye that flew into a Lady's eye, and there lay buried in a tear.

Obsequies

To the memory of the truly Noble, right Valiant and right Honourable Spencer Earle of Northampton Slain at Hopton Field in Saffordshire in the beginning of this Civill War.

The London Lady.

The Times.

The Model of the new Religion.

On Brittanicus his leap three story high, and his escape from London.

Paul from Damascus in a basket slides
Craned by the faithfull Brethren down the sides
Of their embattel'd walls: Britanicus
As loath to trust the Brethrens God with us.
Slides too, but yet more desp'rate, and yet thrives
In his descent, needs must the Devil drives.
Their cause was both the same, & herein meet,
Only their fall was not with equal feet,
Which makes the case Iambick: Thus we see
How much news falls short of Divinitie.
Truth was their crying crime: One takes the night,
Th'other th'advantage of ye New sprung Light
Mo mantle his escape: How different be
The Pristin and the Modern Policie?
Have Ages their Antipodes? Yet still
Close in the Propagation of ill?
Hence flowes this use and doctrine from the thump
I last sustain'd (belov'd) Good wits may Jump.

Content.

May Day.

An Epig. to Doulus.

Doulus advanced upon a goodly Steed,
Came mounting ore the plain in very deed,
Wherat the people cring'd & bow'd the knee,
In honour of my Lord's rich Liverie.
Hence swell not Doulus, nor erect thy crest,
Twas for the Goddess sake we capp'd the beast.

An Epig. on the people of England.

Sweating and chafing hot Ardelio cryes
A Boat a Boat, else farwel all the prize.
But having once set foot upon the deep
Hotspur Ardelio fell fast a sleep.
So we, on fire with zealous discontent,
Call'd out a Parliament, a Parliament.
Which being obtain'd at last, what did they doe?
Even squeez the wool-packs, & lye snorting too.

Another.

Brittain a lovely Orchard seem'd to be
Furnish'd with nature's choise varietie,
Temptatious golden fruit of every sort,
Th'Hesperian Garden fann'd from fein'd report,
Great boyes and smal together in we brake,
No matter what disdain'd Priapus spake,
Up, up we lift the great Boyes in the trees,
Hoping a common share to sympathize:
But they no sooner there neglected streight
The shoulders that so rais'd them to this height;
And fell to stuffing of their own bags first,
And as their treasure grew, so did their thirst.
Whiles we in lean expectance gaping stand
For one shake from their charitable hand.
But all in vain the dropsie of desire
So scortch'd them, three Realms could not quench the fire.
Be wise then in ynur Ale bold youths: for fear
The Gardner catch us as Moss caught his Mare.

An Elegie Upon my dear little friend M. I: F. Who dyed the same morning he was born. Decem. 10. 1654.

A short reflection on the creation of the World.

John chap. 18. ver. 36. My Kingdom is not of this World.

True blessed Saviour, true! thy Kingdom's not
Of this world. For we cannot finde a spot
Of thy Crown Land, where Geometrie may stay
Her reeling compass to move any way
In demonstration of that circling Round
That may define th'inclosure Holy ground:
But since thy Church grew Stately & fell down,
The lands are all confiscate from the Crown.
Countrey freez Elders have thy Flesh hooks bin
To shrive the Levites Pot and all within.
And never conscious of thy pious rule
Leave poor Elias to th'charity of the foul.
Or like the Indian Astomi, to smell
His way to life, or live by miracle.
Thus Sion's wasted, and thy Prophets slain:
And Godlinesse hath proov'd the only Gain.

Math. chap. 11 ver. 28. Come unto me all yee that labour and are heavy laden &c.

A Sing-song on Clarinda's Wedding

On the much to be lamented Death of that gallant Antiquary and great Master both of Law and Learning, John Selden Esquire.

Upon the death of John Selden Esquire.

Upon the incomparable Learned John Selden.

Upon the death of John Selden.

Degenerate Love and Choyce.

A Dialogue between two water Nymphs Thamesis and Sabrina.

Tha.
Ho! all yee sister-streams that govern'd be.
By great Diana's watry diety.
Yee silver Nymphs that gliding sport and play,
And kis your flowry bancks, and flowing stray
In lofty murmurs, ô come sit you here,
And lend my swelling grief a voice or tear.

Sab.
What poor afflicted Soul with mournful cries
And sobs awakes my long benighted eyes?
What hapless maid of her first love bereav'd
Bemoans her friend in death's black armes received?
Perhaps some pining Votress in ye dark
Bedews a Lover's tombe with tears; hark! hark!

Tha.
Ah me forlorn! ah me forsaken maid!
Where is my loveliness and honour strayd?
Those glories dwelt upon me? & those swans
That sung my name beyond proud Ganges sands,
And fill'd both Indies with the wide renown
Of my spread fame? Now tost now tumbled down?

Sab.
I thought my crimson streams had buried all
The bitter land-flouds of a Kingdoms thrall.
But lo! a louder eccho living is,
A floud of yet continued miseries.
A tide of wo at last has found a tongue
To bear a sad part in my doleful song:
Speak wretched Maid, whence art?—

Tha.
—tis I, tis I,
Poor Thamesis out of my ruines cry,
Gravell'd with sorrow and scortch'd up with heat
Of war, struck deaf with drums, who was the seat
Of peace and plenty, now the rouling map
Of violence and tyranous mishap.

Sab.
Alas fair Princess! were there left in mee
A Creek reserv'd from grief to pitty thee,
With what swift hast should I divert ye course
Of my salt waves to mixt their scatter'd force
With that vast body of thy tears? And close
My springs with thine to make a sea of woes?

Tha.
Can there be such a monster that dares own
It's small undoing when my mischief's shown?
O can there be proportion 'twixt the drops
Of private ills, and the full plenteous crops
And buckets of mine anguish? O forbear!
I drank those showers whereof thy storms skirts were.

Sab.

Tha.
Tis true Sabrina I have acted right
The fable of ye Horse; who needs would fight
The Hart: But finding streight himself to bee
Too weak for his Pallizadoed enemie;
He begs the man to ride him, and became
His slave, to gain an empty victor's name.

Sab.

Tha.
Crush not Sabrina now my smarting sores,
But let the offring of my crumbled Towers,
And rubbish Palaces appease thy feirce
Censure: For lo I speak but in my hearse.
This issue of my breath's a parting groan:
Add not affliction to affliction.

Sab.

Tha.

Sab.
And rightly, since thou wast ye wombe and well
From whence those Spirits rose, to be their Hell.
The high throne of that many headed Beast
Popular Soveraignty: A snaky nest
And Synagogue of Asps, which share the sweat
Of three tame Nations tyed up from their meat.

Tha.
What thē Sabrina rests yet to be done?
But that we shun with shame and fly the sun,
Suffring a willing winter to congeal
Our drops to christal, which wee'le mildly deal
In softer showers of pious tears again
Till we have purg'd a scarlet Kingdoms stain.

The Myrtle Grove.

To my honoured friend Mr. T. C. that ask'd mee how I liked his Mistris being an old widdow.

But prethee first how long hast bin
Lost in this sad estate of sin?
That the milde Gout, or Pox, or worse
Serves not to expiate thy curse?
Some Pestilence else may be thought upon,
And not such absolute damnation.
Are rocks and halters grown so dear
That there's no perishing but here?
Doe no Committee yet survive
Those cheaper Gregories of men alive?
If thou wilt needs to Sea, ô must it bee
In an old Galliasse of sixty three?
A snail-crawl'd botom? A gray Bark
That stood at Font for Noah's Ark?
Whose wrinkled Poop in figures furl'd
Describes her travels round the world?
A Nut, wch whē th'hast crack'd & fumbled ore
Thou'lt finde the Squiril has bin there before?
Then raise the Siedge from falling on
That old dismantled garrison.
Rash Lover speak what pleasure hath
Thy Spring in such an Aftermath?
Who, were she to the best advantage spread,
Is but the dull husk of a maiden head.
How canst thou then delight the sense
In beautie's preterperfectense?
And dote upon that free-stone face
Which wears but the records of grace?
Whose antick Monast'ry brags but a Chest
Of venerable Reliques at the best?
O can there such a famine bee
Of piping hot virginitie,
That thou art forc'd to slur and cheat
Thy stomack with the broken meat?
Why he that wooes a Widdow does no more
Then court that Quagmire where one sunk before.
Fie, prize not then those Arras Looks
Sullied and thumb'd like Town-hall Books!
I like thy fancy well to have
Its misery so near its Grave.
And tis a general shrift that most men use,
But yet tis tedious waiting dead mens shoes.
If 'twere thy plot I do confess
For to make Mummee of her grease,
Or swop her to the Paper Mill,
This were extracting good from ill.
But if thou wed'st on any worse condition,
Thou'lt prove Delinquent for thy Superstition.
But prethee hold, let me advise,
Perhaps shee's rich and seems a prize,
New chalk'd, new rigg'd, a stately Friggot,
But yet she's tapp'd at lower spiggot.
Yet if no med'cine for thy grief be found,
There's smal ods Tom 'twixt being hang'd or drown'd.

The Engagement Stated.