Ex otio Negotium :: :: University of Virginia Library

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?