{"product_id":"epigrams-isbn-9780375760426","title":"Epigrams","description":"Martial, the father of the epigram, was one of the brilliant provincial poets who made their literary mark on first-century Rome. His \u003cb\u003eEpigrams\u003c\/b\u003e can be affectionate or cruel, elegiac or playful; they target every element of Roman society, from slaves to schoolmasters to, above all, the aristocratic elite. With wit and wisdom, Martial evokes not “the grandeur that was Rome,” but rather the timeless themes of urban life and society.“Martial, . . . concentrating on the epigram as his one form of literary expression, brought it to a pitch of technical perfection never afterwards rivaled.” —\u003cb\u003ePeter Howell\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eJames Michie\u003c\/b\u003e studied classics at Trinity College, Oxford. His other translations include \u003ci\u003eThe Poems of Catullus\u003c\/i\u003e and Horace’s \u003ci\u003eOdes\u003c\/i\u003e (available as a Modern Library Paperback Classic). His \u003ci\u003eCollected Poems\u003c\/i\u003e was awarded the Hawthornden Prize.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eShadi Bartsch\u003c\/b\u003e is Chair of the Department of Classics at the University of Chicago, the editor in chief of \u003ci\u003eClassical Philology\u003c\/i\u003e, and the author of \u003ci\u003eDecoding the Ancient Novel; Ideology in Cold Blood: A Reading of Lucan’s “Civil War”;\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eActors in the Audi-ence: Theatricality and Doublespeak from Nero to Hadrian\u003c\/i\u003e.Hic est quem legis ille, quem requiris,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003etoto notus in orbe Martialis\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eargutis epigrammaton libellis:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ecui, lector studiose, quod dedisti\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eviventi decus atque sentienti,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003erari post cineres habent poetae.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eiii\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eArgiletanas mavis habitare tabernas,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ecum tibi, parve liber, scrinia nostra vacent.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003enescis, heu, nescis dominae fastidia Romae:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ecrede mihi, nimium Martia turba sapit.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003emaiores nusquam rhonchi: iuvenesque senesque\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eet pueri nasum rhinocerotis habent.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eaudieris cum grande sophos, dum basia iactas,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eibis ab excusso missus in astra sago.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esed tu ne totiens domini patiare lituras\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eneve notet lusus tristis harundo tuos,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eaetherias, lascive, cupis volitare per auras:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ei, fuge; sed poteras tutior esse domi.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBOOK ONE\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e1\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMay I present myself—the man\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYou read, admire and long to meet,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKnown the world over for his neat\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd witty epigrams? The name\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIs Martial. Thank you, earnest fan,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor having granted me the fame\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSeldom enjoyed by a dead poet\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhile I’m alive and here to know it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e3\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFrail book, although there’s room for you to stay\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSnug on my shelves, you’d rather fly away\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTo the bookshops and be published. How I pity\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYour ignorance of this supercilious city!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBelieve me, little one, our know-all crowd\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIs hard to please. Nobody sneers as loud\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs a Roman: old or young, even newly-born,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe turns his nose up like a rhino horn.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs soon as one hears the deafening “bravos!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd begins blowing kisses, up one goes\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSkywards, tossed in a blanket. And yet you,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFed up with the interminable “few,”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Final” revisions of your natural song\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBy my strict pen, being a wild thing, long\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTo try your wings and flutter about Rome.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOff you go, then! You’re safer, though, at home.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eiv\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eContigeris nostros, Caesar, si forte libellos,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eterrarum dominum pone supercilium.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003econsuevere iocos vestri quoque ferre triumphi,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003emateriam dictis nec pudet esse ducem.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003equa Thymelen spectas derisoremque Latinum,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eilla fronte precor carmina nostra legas.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003einnocuos censura potest permittere lusus:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003elasciva est nobis pagina, vita proba.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ex\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePetit Gemellus nuptias Maronillae\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eet cupit et instat et precatur et donat.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAdeone pulchra est? Immo foedius nil est.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eQuid ergo in illa petitur et placet? Tussit.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003exxvii\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHesterna tibi nocte dixeramus,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003equincunces puto post decem peractos,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ecenares hodie, Procille, mecum.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003etu factam tibi rem statim putasti\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eet non sobria verba subnotasti\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eexemplo nimium periculoso:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003emisˆv mn´amona symp´otan, Procille.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e4\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCaesar, if you should chance to handle my book,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI hope that you’ll relax the frowning look\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat rules the world. Soldiers are free to mock\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe triumphs of you emperors—there’s no shame\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn a general being made a laughing-stock.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI beg you, read my verses with the same\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFace as you watch Latinus on the stage\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOr Thymele the dancer. Harmless wit\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYou may, as Censor, reasonably permit:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy life is strict, however lax my page.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e10\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGemellus wants to marry Maronilla:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe sighs, pleads, pesters, sends a daily present.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIs she a beauty? No, a hideous peasant.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhat’s the attraction, then? That cough will kill her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e27\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLast night, after five pints of wine,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI said, “Procillus, come and dine\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTomorrow.” You assumed I meant\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhat I said (a dangerous precedent)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd slyly jotted down a note\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOf my drunk offer. Let me quote\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA proverb from the Greek: “I hate\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAn unforgetful drinking mate.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003exxxiv\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIncustoditis et apertis, Lesbia, semper\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eliminibus peccas nec tua furta tegis,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eet plus spectator quam te delectat adulter\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003enec sunt grata tibi gaudia si qua latent.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eat meretrix abigit testem veloque seraque\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eraraque Submemmi fornice rima patet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ea Chione saltem vel ab Iade disce pudorem:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eabscondunt spurcas et monumenta lupas.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003enumquid dura tibi nimium censura videtur?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003edeprendi veto te, Lesbia, non futui.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003exxxviii\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eQuem recitas meus est, o Fidentine, libellus:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esed male cum recitas, incipit esse tuus.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003exlvi\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCum dicis “Propero, fac si facis,” Hedyle, languet\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eprotinus et cessat debilitata Venus.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eexpectare iube: velocius ibo retentus.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHedyle, si properas, dic mihi, ne properem.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e34\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLesbia, why are your amours\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAlways conducted behind open, unguarded doors?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhy do you get more excitement out of a voyeur than a lover?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhy is pleasure no pleasure when it’s under cover?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhores use a curtain, a bolt or a porter\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTo bar the public—you won’t find many chinks in the red-light quarter.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAsk Chione or Ias how to behave:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEven the cheapest tart conceals her business inside a monumental grave.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIf I seem too hard on you, remember my objection\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIs not to fornication but detection.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e38\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey’re mine, but while a fool like you recites\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy poems I resign the author’s rights.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e46\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen you say, “Quick, I’m going to come,”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHedylus, I go limp and numb.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut ask me to hold back my fire,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd the brake accelerates desire.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDear boy, if you’re in such a hurry,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTell me to slow up, not to worry.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003exlvii\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNuper erat medicus, nunc est vispillo Diaulus:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003equod vispillo facit, fecerat et medicus.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eliv\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSi quid, Fusce, vacas adhuc amari—\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003enam sunt hinc tibi, sunt et hinc amici—\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eunum, si superest, locum rogamus,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003enec me, quod tibi sim novus, recuses:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eomnes hoc veteres tui fuerunt.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003etu tantum inspice qui novus paratur\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ean possit fieri vetus sodalis.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003elxiv\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBella es, novimus, et puella, verum est,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eet dives, quis enim potest negare?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esed cum te nimium, Fabulla, laudas,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003enec dives neque bella nec puella es.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e47\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDiaulus, recently physician,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHas set up now as a mortician:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNo change, though, in the clients’ condition.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e54\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIf you’ve still room in your affections—\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor you have friends in all directions—\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor one more, may I occupy\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe vacant place? You can’t deny\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMe this simply because I’m “new”:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAll your old chums were once that, too.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThink, Fuscus: might not in the end\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe newest prove the oldest friend?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e64\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat you’re young, beautiful and rich,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFabulla, no one can deny.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut when you praise yourself too much,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNone of the epithets apply.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003elxxiii\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNullus in urbe fuit tota qui tangere vellet\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003euxorem gratis, Caeciliane, tuam,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003edum licuit: sed nunc positis custodibus ingens\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eturba fututorum est: ingeniosus homo es.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003elxxvii\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePulchre valet Charinus et tamen pallet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eparce bibit Charinus et tamen pallet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ebene concoquit Charinus et tamen pallet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esole utitur Charinus et tamen pallet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003etingit cutem Charinus et tamen pallet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ecunnum Charinus lingit et tamen pallet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e73\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen you complaisantly allowed\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAny man, free of charge, to lay\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHands on your wife, not one would play.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut now you’ve posted a house guard\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere’s an enormous randy crowd.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCaecilianus, you’re a card.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e77\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe’s healthy—yet he’s deathly pale;\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSeldom drinks wine and has a hale\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDigestion—but looks white and ill;\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSunbathes, rouges his cheeks—and still\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHas a pasty face; licks all the cunts\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn Rome—and never blushes once.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003elxxxvi\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eVicinus meus est manuque tangi\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ede nostris Novius potest fenestris.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003equis non invideat mihi putetque\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ehoris omnibus esse me beatum,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eiuncto cui liceat frui sodale?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTam longe est mihi quam Terentianus,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003equi nunc Niliacam regit Syenen.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003enon convivere, nec videre saltem,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003enon audire licet, nec urbe tota\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003equisquam est tam prope tam proculque nobis.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMigrandum est mihi longius vel illi.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003evicinus Novio vel inquilinus\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esit, si quis Novium videre non volt.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003elxxxvii\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNe gravis hesterno fragres, Fescennia, vino,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003epastillos Cosmi luxuriosa voras.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eista linunt dentes iantacula, sed nihil opstant,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eextremo ructus cum redit a barathro.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003equid quod olet gravius mixtum diapasmate virus\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eatque duplex animae longius exit odor?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003enotas ergo nimis fraudes deprensaque furta\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eiam tollas et sis ebria simpliciter.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e86\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNovius is so close a neighbour, I could stand\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAt my window and touch him with a hand.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Lucky you,” you say.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I envy you being able to enjoy at all hours of the day\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe companionship of a true brother.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNot a bit of it. We couldn’t have less to do with each other\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIf he were Terentianus, Governor of the Lower Nile.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI’m not allowed to dine with him, he won’t vouchsafe a word or a smile.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere’s no one so near and yet so distant in all Rome.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eClearly one of us must find a new home.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIf you don’t want to see Novius, you should live next door\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOr, better still, in the same house, on the same floor.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e87\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHoping, Fescennia, to overpower\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe reek of last night’s drinking, you devour\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCosmus’ sweet-scented pastilles by the gross.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut though they give your teeth a whitish gloss\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey fail to make your breath any less smelly\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen a belch boils from your abyss-like belly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn fact, blended with lozenges it’s much stronger,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt travels farther and it lingers longer.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGive up these stale, transparent tricks. A skunk\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMust be itself. Why not just be a drunk?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003elxxxix\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGarris in aurem semper omnibus, Cinna,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003egarrire et illud teste quod licet turba.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003erides in aurem, quereris, arguis, ploras,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ecantas in aurem, iudicas, taces, clamas,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eadeoque penitus sedit hic tibi morbus,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eut saepe in aurem, Cinna, Caesarem laudes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003excvi\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSi non molestum est teque non piget, scazon,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003enostro rogamus pauca verba Materno\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003edicas in aurem sic ut audiat solus.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAmator ille tristium lacernarum\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eet baeticatus atque leucophaeatus,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003equi coccinatos non putat viros esse\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eamethystinasque mulierum vocat vestes,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003enativa laudet, habeat et licet semper\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003efuscos colores, galbinos habet mores.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRogabit unde suspicer virum mollem.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eUna lavamur: aspicit nihil sursum,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esed spectat oculis devorantibus draucos\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003enec otiosis mentulas videt labris.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eQuaeris quis hic sit? Excidit mihi nomen.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e89\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYou’re always whispering in one’s ear\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Secrets” the world might safely hear.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYou crack jokes, grumble, weep, accuse\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYour enemies, proclaim your views,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSing songs and shout and even keep\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eQuiet in a whisper. It’s so deep\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA sickness that you seldom raise\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYour voice, Cinna, in Caesar’s praise.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e96\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy hobbling metre, if it’s not a task\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eToo onerous for you, not too much to ask,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGo and drop a few words in Maternus’ ear\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJust loud enough for him alone to hear.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe favours drab, dark cloaks, he has a passion\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor wearing Baetic wool and grey; the fashion\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor scarlet he calls “degenerate,” “un-Roman,”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd, as for mauve, that’s “only fit for women.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe’s all for “Nature”; yet, though no one’s duller\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn dress, his morals sport a different colour.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe may demand the grounds of my suspicion.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWe bathe together, and his line of vision\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKeeps below waist-level, he devours\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOcularly the boys under the showers,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd his lips twitch at the sight of a luscious member.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDid you ask his name? How odd, I can’t remember!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ecvii\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSaepe mihi dicis, Luci carissime Iuli,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Scribe aliquid magnum: desidiosus homo es.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOtia da nobis, sed qualia fecerat olim\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMaecenas Flacco Vergilioque suo:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003econdere victuras temptem per saecula curas\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eet nomen flammis eripuisse meum.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ein steriles nolunt campos iuga ferre iuvenci:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003epingue solum lassat, sed iuvat ipse labor.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ecix\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIssa est passere nequior Catulli,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIssa est purior osculo columbae,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIssa est blandior omnibus puellis,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIssa est carior Indicis lapillis,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIssa est deliciae catella Publi.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ehanc tu, si queritur, loqui putabis;\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esentit tristitiamque gaudiumque.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ecollo nixa cubat capitque somnos,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eut suspiria nulla sentiantur;\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eet desiderio coacta ventris\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003egutta pallia non fefellit ulla,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esed blando pede suscitat toroque\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003edeponi monet et rogat levari.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ecastae tantus inest pudor catellae,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eignorat Venerem; nec invenimus\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003edignum tam tenera virum puella.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHanc ne lux rapiat suprema totam,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e107\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDear Lucius Julius, you often sigh,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Write something great—you’re a lazy fellow.” Give\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMe leisure, all the time Maecenas found\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor Horace and his Virgil, and I’ll try\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTo build a masterpiece destined to live\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd save my name from ashes. When the ground\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIs poor, the ox works listlessly; rich soil\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTires, but there’s satisfaction then in toil.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e109\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIssa is naughtier than Catullus’ sparrow, Issa is more appealing than any girl,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIssa is purer than a dove’s kiss, Issa is more precious than an Indian pearl,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIssa is—to end this catalogue—\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePublius’ doted-on dog.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen she whines, you’d think it was a human voice;\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe knows what it is to grieve and to rejoice.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe lies on her master’s lap,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBreathing so softly it’s inaudible, and takes her nap.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen the call of nature can’t be resisted,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe never lets a drop soil the quilt, but wakes you charmingly with a paw and asks to be set down and assisted.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe’s so innocent of the facts of life\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat we’re unable to find a mate for such a delicate little wife.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003epicta Publius exprimit tabella,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ein qua tam similem videbis Issam,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eut sit tam similis sibi nec ipsa.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIssam denique pone cum tabella:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eaut utramque putabis esse veram,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eaut utramque putabis esse pictam.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ecxvii\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOccurris quotiens, Luperce, nobis,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Vis mittam puerum” subinde dicis,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“cui tradas epigrammaton libellum,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003electum quem tibi protinus remittam?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNon est quod puerum, Luperce, vexes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003elongum est, si velit ad Pirum venire,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eet scalis habito tribus sed altis.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003equod quaeris propius petas licebit.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eArgi nempe soles subire Letum:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003econtra Caesaris est forum taberna\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003escriptis postibus hinc et inde totis,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eomnis ut cito perlegas poetas.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eillinc me pete. Nec roges Atrectum—\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ehoc nomen dominus gerit tabernae—:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTo prevent her last dog-day\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTaking her altogether away\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePublius has had her picture painted. The likeness is so complete\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat even Issa herself can’t compete.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn fact, put both together and you can’t tell, which is which—\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePainting or bitch.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e117\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLupercus, whenever you meet me\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYou instantly greet me\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWith, “Is it all right by you if I send\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy slave to pick up your book of epigrams? It’s only to lend:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI’ll return it when I’ve read it.” There’s no call\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTo trouble your boy. It’s a long haul\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTo the Pear-tree district, and my flat\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIs up three flights of stairs, steep ones at that.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYou can find what you want nearer home. No doubt you often go\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDown Booksellers’ Row.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWell, then, opposite Caesar’s Forum there’s a shop\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWith door-posts plastered with advertisements from bottom to top,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSo that at a glance you can read\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe list of available poets. There I am. There’s no need\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTo ask Atrectus (the owner’s name) for my scroll:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBefore you’ve said a word he’ll whip out of the first or second pigeon-hole\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ede primo dabit alterove nido\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003erasum pumice purpuraque cultum\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003edenarîs tibi quinque Martialem.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Tanti non es” ais? Sapis, Luperce.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ecxviii\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCui legisse satis non est epigrammata centum,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003enil illi satis est, Caediciane, mali.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMe,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePumice-stone-smoothed and purple-wrapped, for five denarii.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDo I hear you say, “You’re not worth that expense”?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLupercus, you’ve got sense.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e118\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCaedicianus, if my reader\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAfter a hundred epigrams still\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWants more, then he’s a greedy feeder\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhom no amount of swill can fill.Introduction by Shadi Bartsch; Selected and translated by James Michie","brand":"Modern Library","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46302174675173,"sku":"NP9780375760426","price":19.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780375760426.jpg?v=1767726324","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/epigrams-isbn-9780375760426","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}