Martial: EPIGRAMMATON LIBRI

1. 'What have we,' you say, 'to do with an epistle? do we render too little to you, if we read epigrams? what, then, are you going to say here that you cannot say in verses?

2. Video quare tragoedia aut comoedia epistolam accipiant, quibus pro se loqui non licet: epigrammata curione non egent et contenta sunt sua, id est mala, lingua: in quacumque pagina uisum est, epistolam faciunt. 3. Noli ergo, si tibi uidetur, rem facere ridiculam et in toga saltantis inducere personam. 4. Denique uideris an te delectet contra retiarium ferula.

2. I see why a tragedy or a comedy accepts an epistle, for which it is not permitted to speak on their own behalf: epigrams have no need of a stage‑manager and are content with their own, that is, bad, tongue: on whatever page it has seemed good, they make a letter. 3. Therefore do not, if it seems good to you, do a ridiculous thing and bring on a persona dancing in a toga. 4. Finally, see whether it delights you to go against a net‑fighter (retiarius) with a ferule.

5. Ego inter illos sedeo qui protinus reclamant.' 6. Puto me hercules, Deciane, uerum dicis. 7. Quid si scias cum qua et quam longa epistola negotium fueris habiturus? 8. Itaque quod exigis fiat.

5. I sit among those who at once protest.' 6. I think, by Hercules, Decianus, you speak true. 7. What if you were to know with what sort, and how long, a letter you are going to have business? 8. And so let what you demand be done.

Debebunt tibi si qui in hunc librum inciderint, quod ad primam paginam non lassi peruenient.

They will owe it to you, if any should chance upon this book, that they will arrive at the first page not weary.

Ter centena quidem poteras epigrammata ferre,
     sed quis te ferret perlegeretque, liber?
At nunc succincti quae sint bona disce libelli.
     Hoc primum est, breuior quod mihi charta perit;
deinde, quod haec una peragit librarius hora,              5
     nec tantum nugis seruiet ille meis;
tertia res haec est, quod si cui forte legeris,
     sis licet usque malus, non odiosus eris.

Thrice a hundred epigrams you could indeed carry,
     but who would carry you and read you through, book?
But now learn what the good things of a succinct little book are.
     This is first: that a briefer sheet is wasted on me;
then, that a scribe completes this in a single hour,              5
     nor will he serve only my trifles;
this is the third point: that if you happen to read to someone,
     though you be ever so bad, you will not be odious.

Te conuiua leget mixto quincunce, sed ante
incipiat positus quam tepuisse calix. 10
Esse tibi tanta cautus breuitate uideris?
Ei mihi, quam multis sic quoque longus eris!

A dinner-guest will read you with a mixed quincunx, but before
the cup set down has begun to grow tepid. 10
Do you think yourself cautious to have such great brevity?
Alas, to how many you will be long even so!

Creta dedit magnum, maius dedit Africa nomen,
     Scipio quod uictor quodque Metellus habet;
nobilius domito tribuit Germania Rheno,
     et puer hoc dignus nomine, Caesar, eras.
Frater Idumaeos meruit cum patre triumphos:              5
     quae datur ex Chattis laurea, tota tua est.

Crete gave a great, Africa gave a greater name,
     such as the victor Scipio and such as Metellus possess;
Germany, with the Rhine tamed, bestowed a more noble one,
     and as a boy, Caesar, you were worthy of this name.
Your brother earned Idumaean triumphs with your father:              5
     the laurel granted from the Chatti is wholly yours.

Sexte, nihil debes, nil debes, Sexte, fatemur:
debet enim, si quis soluere, Sexte, potest.

Sextus, you owe nothing, you owe nothing, Sextus, we confess:
for one owes, Sextus, if he is able to pay.

O quam blandus es, Ammiane, matri!
quam blanda est tibi mater, Ammiane!
Fratrem te uocat et soror uocatur.

O how affectionate you are, Ammiane, to your mother!
how affectionate to you is your mother, Ammiane!
She calls you brother, and is called sister.

Cur uos nomina nequiora tangunt?
Quare non iuuat hoc quod estis esse? 5
Lusum creditis hoc iocumque? Non est:
matrem, quae cupit esse se sororem,
nec matrem iuuat esse nec sororem.

Why do baser names touch you?
Why does it not please you to be what you are? 5
Do you think this is play and a joke? It is not:
a mother, who longs to be herself a sister,
is pleased to be neither mother nor sister.

Ne ualeam, si non totis, Deciane, diebus
     et tecum totis noctibus esse uelim.
Sed duo sunt quae nos disiungunt milia passum:
     quattuor haec fiunt, cum rediturus eam.
Saepe domi non es; cum sis quoque, saepe negaris:              5
     uel tantum causis uel tibi saepe uacas.

May I not be well, if I do not wish, Decianus, to be with you for whole days
     and to be with you for whole nights.
But there are two miles that separate us:
     these become four, when I go meaning to return.
Often you are not at home; even when you are, you are often denied:              5
     either you have leisure only for causes, or you are often at leisure for yourself.

Te tamen ut uideam, duo milia non piget ire;
ut te non uideam, quattuor ire piget.

Yet, that I may see you, it is no trouble to go two miles;
that I may not see you, it is a bother to go four.

I nunc, edere me iube libellos.
Lectis uix tibi paginis duabus
spectas eschatocollion, Seuere,
et longas trahis oscitationes.
Haec sunt, quae relegente me solebas 5
rapta exscribere, sed Vitellianis;
haec sunt, singula quae sinu ferebas
per conuiuia cuncta, per theatra;
haec sunt aut meliora si qua nescis.

Go now, and bid me publish my little books.
With scarcely two pages read by you,
you gaze at the eschatocollion, Severus,
and you drag out long oscitations.
These are the things which, as I was re-reading, you were wont 5
to copy off in snatches, but on Vitellian tablets;
these are the pieces, each of which you carried in your bosom
through all the banquets, through the theaters;
these are they—or, if there are any you do not know, better ones.

Quid prodest mihi tam macer libellus, 10
nullo crassior ut sit umbilico,
si totus tibi triduo legatur?
Numquam deliciae supiniores.
Lassus tam cito deficis uiator,
et cum currere debeas Bouillas, 15

What good is so lean a little book to me, 10
with its umbilicus no thicker at all,
if the whole of it is read by you in three days?
Never were indulgences more supine.
Weary traveler, you give out so quickly,
and when you ought to run to Bovillae, 15

interiungere quaeris ad Camenas?
I nunc, edere me iube libellos.

Do you seek to join me to the Camenae?
Go now, bid me to publish little books.

Declamas belle, causas agis, Attice, belle;
     historias bellas, carmina bella facis;
componis belle mimos, epigrammata belle;
     bellus grammaticus, bellus es astrologus,
et belle cantas et saltas, Attice, belle;              5
     bellus es arte lyrae, bellus es arte pilae.
Nil bene cum facias, facias tamen omnia belle,
     uis dicam quid sis? Magnus es ardalio.

You declaim pretty, you plead causes, Atticus, pretty;
     you make pretty histories, pretty poems;
you compose mimes pretty, epigrams pretty;
     a pretty grammarian, you are a pretty astrologer,
and you sing pretty and you dance, Atticus, pretty;              5
     you are pretty in the art of the lyre, pretty in the art of the ball.
Since you do nothing well, yet you do everything pretty,
     do you wish me to say what you are? You are a great busybody.

Si qua uidebuntur chartis tibi, lector, in istis
     siue obscura nimis siue latina parum,
non meus est error: nocuit librarius illis
     dum properat uersus adnumerare tibi.
Quod si non illum sed me peccasse putabis,
              5      tunc ego te credam cordis habere nihil.
'Ista tamen mala sunt.' Quasi nos manifesta negemus!

If anything should seem to you, reader, in these pages
     either too obscure or insufficiently Latinate,
it is not my error: the copyist did them harm
     while he hastens to enumerate the verses for you.
But if you will think that not he but I have erred,
              5      then I shall believe you to have no heart.
'Yet those things are bad.' As if we were denying the manifest!

Haec mala sunt, sed tu non meliora facis.

These are bad, but you do not make better ones.

Scripsi, rescripsit nil Naeuia, non dabit ergo.
Sed puto quod scripsi legerat: ergo dabit.

I wrote; Naeuia wrote back nothing—therefore she will not give.
But I think she had read what I wrote: therefore she will give.

Basia dimidio quod das mihi, Postume, labro,
laudo: licet demas hinc quoque dimidium.
Vis dare maius adhuc et inenarrabile munus?
Hoc tibi habe totum, Postume, dimidium.

That you give me kisses with a half lip, Postumus, I praise:
you may take away a half from here too.
Do you wish to give a greater and inenarrable gift?
Have this for yourself whole, Postumus—the half.

Quod fronte Selium nubila uides, Rufe,
quod ambulator porticum terit seram,
lugubre quiddam quod tacet piger uoltus,
quod paene terram nasus indecens tangit,
quod dextra pectus pulsat et comam uellit: 5
non ille amici fata luget aut fratris,
uterque natus uiuit et precor uiuat,
salua est et uxor sarcinaeque seruique,
nihil colonus uilicusque decoxit.
Maeroris igitur causa quae? Domi cenat. 10

That you see Selius with a clouded brow, Rufus,
that the ambulator wears down the portico late,
that there is something lugubrious which his sluggish face keeps silent,
that his unseemly nose almost touches the earth,
that his right hand beats his breast and plucks his hair: 5
he is not mourning a friend’s or a brother’s fate;
both sons live, and I pray may they live;
his wife is safe, and the baggage and the slaves;
the tenant-farmer and the estate-manager have boiled nothing down (have not gone bankrupt).
What, therefore, is the cause of grief? He dines at home. 10

Esse quid hoc dicam quod olent tua basia murram
quodque tibi est numquam non alienus odor?
Hoc mihi suspectum est, quod oles bene, Postume,semper:
Postume, non bene olet qui bene semper olet.

What am I to call this, that your kisses smell of myrrh,
and that you have a never-not-alien odor?
This is suspect to me, that you smell good, Postumus, always:
Postumus, he does not smell good who always smells good.

Et iudex petit et petit patronus:
soluas censeo, Sexte, creditori.

Both the judge petitions and the patron petitions:
I opine, Sextus, that you pay the creditor.

Nil intemptatum Selius, nil linquit inausum,
     cenandum quotiens iam uidet esse domi.
Currit ad Europen et te, Pauline, tuosque
     laudat Achilleos, sed sine fine, pedes.
Si nihil Europe fecit, tunc Saepta petundur,              5
     si quid Phillyrides praestet et Aesonides.

Nothing unattempted does Selius, nothing does he leave undared,
     whenever he sees that dining must be at home.
He runs to Europa and to you, Paulinus, and
     praises—without end—your Achillean feet.
If Europa has accomplished nothing, then the Saepta are sought,              5
     if Phillyrides and Aesonides might furnish anything.

Hinc quoque deceptus Memphitica templa frequentat,
     adsidet et cathedris, maesta iuuenca, tuis.
Inde petit centum pendentia tecta columnis,
     illinc Pompei dona nemusque duplex;              10
nec Fortunati spernit nec balnea Fausti,
     nec Grylli tenebras Aeoliamque Lupi:
nam thermis iterumque iterumque iterumque lauatur.
     Omnia cum fecit, sed renuente deo,
lotus ad Europes tepidae buxeta recurrit,              15

From here too, deceived, he frequents the Memphitic temples,
     and sits beside your chairs, sorrowful heifer.
Thence he seeks the roofs hanging on a hundred columns,
     from there Pompey’s gifts and the double grove;              10
nor does he spurn Fortunatus’s nor Faustus’s baths,
     nor Gryllus’s darkness and Lupus’s Aeolian [baths]:
for in the baths again and again and again he is washed.
     When he has done everything, but with the god refusing,
bathed he runs back to the boxwood-groves of warm Europa,              15

si quis ibi serum carpat amicus iter.
Per te perque tuam, uector lasciue, puellam,
ad cenam Selium tu, rogo, taure, uoca.

if any friend there should make a late journey.
By you and by your girl, wanton bearer,
call Selius to dinner, I beg, bull.

Quod nulli calicem tuum propinas
humane facis, Horme, non superbe.

That to no one you proffer your chalice
you act humanely, Horme, not haughtily.

Zoilus aegrotat: faciunt hanc stragula febrem.
Si fuerit sanus, coccina quid facient?
quid torus a Nilo, quid Sidone tinctus olenti?

Zoilus is sick: the coverlets make this fever.
If he shall be well, what will the scarlets do?
what the couch from the Nile, what one dyed by odorous Sidon?

     ostendit stultas quid nisi morbus opes?
Quid tibi cum medicis? dimitte Machaonas omnis.              5
     Vis fieri sanus?

     what does disease show but foolish opulence?
     What have you to do with physicians? dismiss all the Machaons.              5
     Do you wish to become healthy?

stragula sume mea.

take my coverlets.

Tonstrix Suburae faucibus sedet primis,
cruenta pendent qua flagella tortorum
Argique Letum multus obsidet sutor:
sed ista tonstrix, Ammiane, non tondet,
non tondet, inquam. Quid igitur facit? Radit. 5

A female barber sits at the Subura’s first defiles,
where the bloody flagella of torturers hang,
and many a cobbler besieges the Death of Argus:
but that female barber, Ammianus, does not shear,
she does not shear, I say. What then does she do? She scrapes. 5

Capto tuam, pudet heu, sed capto, Maxime, cenam,
     tu captas aliam: iam sumus ergo pares.
Mane salutatum uenio, tu diceris isse
     ante salutatum: iam sumus ergo pares.
Sum comes ipse tuus tumidique anteambulo regis,              5
     tu comes alterius: iam sumus ergo pares.

I hunt your dinner—shame, alas, but I hunt it, Maximus,—
     you hunt another’s: therefore now we are equals.
In the morning I come to give greeting; you are said to have gone
     to give greeting beforehand: therefore now we are equals.
I myself am your companion and the fore-walker of a puffed-up king,              5
     you the companion of another: therefore now we are equals.

Esse sat est seruum, iam nolo uicarius esse.
Qui rex est regem, Maxime, non habeat.

It is enough to be a servant; now I do not want to be a vicarious one.
Let him who is a king, Maximus, not have a king.

Felicem fieri credis me, Zoile, cena?
felicem cena, Zoile, deinde tua?
Debet Aricino conuiua recumbere cliuo,
quem tua felicem, Zoile, cena facit.

Do you believe, Zoilus, that a dinner makes me felicitous?
felicitous by a dinner, Zoilus—then by yours?
The convive ought to recline on the Arician slope,
he whom your dinner, Zoilus, makes felicitous.

Carmina Paulus emit, recitat sua carmina Paulus.
Nam quod emas possis iure uocare tuum.

Paulus buys poems; Paulus recites his own poems.
For what you buy you can by right call your own.

Basia das aliis, aliis das, Postume, dextram.
Dicis 'Vtrum mauis? elige.' Malo manum.

You give kisses to some, to others, Postumus, the right hand.
You say: 'Which do you prefer? choose.' I prefer the hand.

Quid mihi uobiscum est, o Phoebe nouemque sorores?
ecce nocet uati Musa iocosa suo.
Dimidio nobis dare Postumus ante solebat
basia, nunc labro coepit utroque dare.

What have I to do with you, O Phoebus and the nine sisters?
behold, the jocose Muse harms her own poet.
Postumus formerly used to give me half-kisses,
now he has begun to give them with both lips.

Non dicam, licet usque me rogetis,
qui sit Postumus in meo libello,
non dicam: quid enim mihi necesse est
has offendere basiationes,
quae se tam bene uindicare possunt? 5

I will not say, though you keep asking me continually,
who Postumus is in my little book;
I will not say: for what need have I
to offend these kisses,
which can so well vindicate themselves? 5

'Si det iniqua tibi tristem fortuna reatum,
     squalidus haerebo pallidiorque reo:
si iubeat patria damnatum excedere terra,
     per freta, per scopulos exulis ibo comes.'
Dat tibi diuitias: ecquid sunt ista duorum?              5
     Das partem? Multum est? Candide, das aliquid?

'If unjust Fortune should give you a grim indictment,
     I shall cling in squalor and be paler than the defendant:
if your fatherland should order you, condemned, to depart the land,
     over the straits, over the crags I will go as the exile’s companion.'
He gives you riches: are those things in any way for the two of you?              5
     Do you give a portion? Is that too much? Good fellow, do you give anything?

Mecum eris ergo miser: quod si deus ore sereno
adnuerit, felix, Candide, solus eris.

Therefore you will be wretched with me; but if a god, with a serene countenance, shall assent,
happy, Candide, you alone will be.

Das numquam, semper promittis, Galla, roganti:
si semper fallis, iam rogo, Galla, nega.

You never give, you always promise, Galla, to the one asking:
if you always deceive, now I ask, Galla, deny.

Quod querulum spirat, quod acerbum Naeuia tussit,
inque tuos mittit sputa subinde sinus,
iam te rem factam, Bithynice, credis habere?
Erras: blanditur Naeuia, non moritur.

What breathes querulous, what Naevia coughs up, bitter,
and again and again she sends sputa into your bosom,
do you already believe, Bithynicus, you have a done deal?
You are wrong: Naevia flatters, she is not dying.

Laudantem Selium cenae cum retia tendit
accipe, siue legas siue patronus agas:
'Effecte! grauiter! cito!

Take Selius as praising, when he spreads his nets for a dinner,
whether you read or whether you act as patron:
'Effectively! Gravely! Quickly!

nequiter! euge! beate!'—
'Hoc uolui!

wickedly! bravo! blessedly!'—
'This is what I wanted!

Facta est iam tibi cena, tace.'

Dinner has now been made for you, be silent.'

Rideto multum qui te, Sextille, cinaedum
     dixerit et digitum porrigito medium.
Sed nec pedico es nec tu, Sextille, fututor,
     calda Vetustinae nec tibi bucca placet.
Ex istis nihil es fateor, Sextille: quid ergo es?              5
     Nescio, sed tu scis res superesse duas.

Laugh a lot at the man who shall call you, Sextillus, a pathic,
     and extend the middle finger.
But you are neither a sodomizer nor you, Sextillus, a fucker,
     nor does Vetustina’s hot mouth please you.
Of these you are none, I admit, Sextillus: what then are you?              5
     I do not know, but you know two options remain.

Rufe, uides illum subsellia prima terentem,
     cuius et hinc lucet sardonychata manus
quaeque Tyron totiens epotauere lacernae
     et toga non tactas uincere iussa niues,
cuius olet toto pinguis coma Marcelliano              5
     et splendent uolso bracchia trita pilo,
non hesterna sedet lunata lingula planta,
     coccina non laesum pingit aluta pedem,
et numerosa linunt stellantem splenia frontem.
     Ignoras quid sit? Splenia tolle, leges.              10

Rufus, you see that fellow wearing out the front benches,
     whose sardonyx-studded hand even from here shines,
and whose lacernae have so often drunk Tyre,
     and whose toga, commanded to conquer untouched snows,
whose greasy hair reeks throughout of Marcellian perfume,              5
     and whose arms, the hair plucked, gleam from much rubbing,
the crescent-shaped shoe-tongue sits on no “yesterday” sole,
     scarlet aluta paints a foot unchafed,
and numerous splenia smear his star-studded forehead.
     Do you not know what he is? Take off the splenia—you will read.              10

Mutua uiginti sestertia forte rogabam,
     quae uel donanti non graue munus erat:
quippe rogabatur felixque uetusque sodalis
     et cuius laxas arca flagellat opes.
Is mihi 'Diues eris, si causas egeris' inquit.              5
     Quod peto da, Gai: non peto consilium.

By way of a loan I chanced to be asking for twenty thousand sesterces,
     which was not a heavy gift even for a donor:
for the one being asked was a fortunate and long-standing companion
     and one whose coffer flagellates his unbridled opulence.
He says to me, "You will be rich, if you plead cases."              5
     Give what I ask, Gaius: I am not asking for counsel.

Saepe ego Chrestinam futui. Det quam bene quaeris?
Supra quod fieri nil, Mariane, potest.

Often I have fucked Chrestina. You ask how well she gives?
Nothing better can be, Marianus.

Lis mihi cum Balbo est, tu Balbum offendere non uis,
Pontice. Cum Licino est: hic quoque magnus homo est.
Vexat saepe meum Patrobas confinis agelllum:
contra libertum Caesaris ire times.

I have a lawsuit with Balbus; you do not wish to offend Balbus,
Pontice. With Licinus as well: this one too is a great man.
My adjoining neighbor Patrobas often vexes my little plot:
you are afraid to go against a freedman of Caesar.

Abnegat et retinet nostrum Laronia seruum:              5
     respondes 'Orba est, diues, anus, uidua.'
Non bene, crede mihi, seruo seruitur amico:
     sit liber, dominus qui uolet esse meus.

Laronia disowns and yet detains my slave:              5
     you answer, 'She is childless, rich, an old woman, a widow.'
Not well, believe me, is a friend served as by a slave:
     let him be free, whoever wishes to be my master.

Cur non basio te, Philaeni? calua es.
Cur non basio te, Philaeni? rufa es.
Cur non basio te, Philaeni?

Why do I not kiss you, Philaeni? You are bald.
Why do I not kiss you, Philaeni? You are red‑haired.
Why do I not kiss you, Philaeni?

lusca es.
Haec qui basiat, o Philaeni, fellat.

you are one-eyed.
Whoever kisses these, o Philaenis, fellates.

Cum placeat Phileros tota tibi dote redemptus,
     tres pateris natos, Galla, perire fame.
Praestatur cano tanta indulgentia cunno
     quem nec casta potest iam decuisse Venus.
Perpetuam di te faciant Philerotis amicam,              5
     o mater, qua nec Pontia deterior.

Since Phileros, redeemed with your whole dowry, pleases you,
     you allow, Galla, three sons to perish of starvation.
So great an indulgence is afforded to a hoary cunt
     which not even chaste Venus can now make becoming.
May the gods make you a perpetual mistress of Phileros,              5
     O mother, than whom not even Pontia is worse.

Cum sint crura tibi similent quae cornua lunae,
in rhytio poteras, Phoebe, lauare pedes.

Since your legs are like the horns of the moon,
in a rhyton you could wash your feet, Phoebe.

Flectere te nolim, sed nec turbare capillos;
     splendida sit nolo, sordida nolo cutis;
nec mitratorum nec sit tibi barba reorum:
     nolo uirum nimium, Pannyche, nolo parum.
Nunc sunt crura pilis et sunt tibi pectora saetis              5
     horrida, sed mens est, Pannyche, uolsa tibi.

I would not have you curl yourself, nor yet disturb your hair;
     I do not want the skin splendid, I do not want it sordid;
nor let your beard be of the mitred nor of the accused:
     I do not want a man too much, Pannyche, nor too little.
Now your legs are with hairs and your breast with bristles, horrid,              5
     rough; but your mind, Pannyche, is depilated.

Quidquid ponitur hinc et inde uerris,
mammas suminis imbricemque porci
communemque duobus attagenam,
mullum dimidium lupumque totum
muraenaeque latus femurque pulli5
stillantemque alica sua palumbum.
Haec cum condita sunt madente mappa,
traduntur puero domum ferenda:
nos accumbimus otiosa turba.
Vllus si pudor est, repone cenam: 10
cras te, Caeciliane, non uocaui.

Whatever is set down, you sweep up from here and there:
the teats of a sow and the pig’s imbrex (chine),
and an attagen shared between two,
half a mullet and a whole wolf-fish,
the side of a muraena and a chicken’s thigh5
and a wood-pigeon dripping with its own alica.
When these things have been packed away in a soaking napkin,
they are handed to a boy to be carried home:
we recline, an idle crowd.
If there is any shame at all, put the dinner back; 10
tomorrow, Caeciliane, I did not invite you.

Quid mihi reddat ager quaeris, Line, Nomentanus?
Hoc mihi reddit ager: te, Line, non uideo.

You ask, Line, what the Nomentan field returns to me?
This is what the field returns to me: you, Line, I do not see.

Coccina famosae donas et ianthina moechae:
uis dare quae meruit munera? Mitte togam.

You give scarlet and hyacinthine finery to an infamous adulteress:
do you wish to give the gifts she has merited? Send a toga.

Vri Tongilius male dicitur hemitritaeo.
Noui hominis fraudes: esurit atque sitit.
Subdola tenduntur crassis nunc retia turdis,
hamus et in mullum mittitur atque lupum.

Uri Tongilius is wrongly called hemitritaean.
I know the man’s frauds: he hungers and he thirsts.
Subtle nets are now being spread for fat thrushes,
and a hook is being cast for mullet and for wolf-fish.

Caecuba saccentur quaeque annus coxit Opimi,              5
     condantur parco fusca Falerna uitro.
omnes Tongilium medici iussere lauari:
     o stulti, febrem creditis esse? Gula est.

Let Caecubans be strained, and whatever the year of Opimius has cooked,              5
     let dusky Falernian be stored in a frugal glass.
all the physicians have ordered Tongilius to be washed:
     O fools, do you think it is a fever? It is the gullet.

'Ride si sapis, o puella, ride'
Paelignus, puto, dixerat poeta:
sed non dixerat omnibus puellis.
Verum ut dixerit omnibus puellis,
non dixit tibi: tu puella non es,              5
et tres sunt tibi, Maximina, dentes,
sed plane piceique buxeique.
Quare si speculo mihique credis,
debes non aliter timere risum,
quam uentum Spanius manumque Priscus,              10
quam cretata timet Fabulla nimbum,
cerussata timet Sabella solem.
Voltus indue tu magis seueros,
quam coniunx Priami nurusque maior;
mimos ridiculi Philistionis              15

'Laugh, if you are wise, o girl, laugh'
the Paelignian poet, I think, had said:
but he had not said it to all girls.
Granted that he had said it to all girls,
he did not say it to you: you are not a girl,              5
and you have three teeth, Maximina,
but plainly of pitch and of boxwood.
Therefore, if you trust the mirror and me,
you ought to fear laughter no otherwise
than Spanius the wind and Priscus the hand,              10
than chalked Fabulla fears a rain-cloud,
ceruse-painted Sabella the sun.
Assume faces more severe
than the wife of Priam and the elder daughter-in-law;
the mimes of the ridiculous Philistio              15

et conuiuia nequiora uita
et quidquid lepida procacitate
laxat perspicuo labella risu.
Te maestae decet adsidere matri
lugentique uirum piumue fratrem, 20
et tantum tragicis uacare Musis.
At tu iudicium secuta nostrum
plora, si sapis, o puella, plora.

and the banquets more wanton than life,
and whatever with charming procacity
loosens the little lips with a perspicuous laugh.
It befits you to sit beside a sorrowful mother
and one mourning a husband or a dutiful brother, 20
and to be free only for the tragic Muses.
But do you, following our judgment,
weep, if you are wise, o girl, weep.

Zoile, quid solium subluto podice perdis?
Spurcius ut fiat, Zoile, merge caput.

Zoilus, why do you ruin the seat with your besmeared buttocks?
So that it may become filthier, Zoilus, plunge your head.

Koina philon haec sunt, haec sunt tua, Candide, koina,
     quae tu magnilocus nocte dieque sonas:
te Lacedaemonio uelat toga lota Galaeso
     uel quam seposito de grege Parma dedit:
at me, quae passa est furias et cornua tauri,              5
     noluerit dici quam pila prima suam.
Misit Agenoreas Cadmi tibi terra lacernas:
     non uendes nummis coccina nostra tribus.
Tu Libycos Indis suspendis dentibus orbis:
     fulcitur testa fagina mensa mihi.              10
Inmodici tibi flaua tegunt chrysendeta mulli:
     concolor in nostra, cammare, lance rubes.

Koina, friend—these are, these are your koina, Candidus,
     which you, big-talking, sound forth night and day:
a toga washed in the Lacedaemonian Galaesus veils you,
     or one which Parma gave from a set-apart flock;
but for me—the hide that has suffered the frenzies and the horns of the bull—              5
     would not wish even the first sales-post to call it its own.
The land of Cadmus of Agenor has sent you cloaks:
     you will not sell our scarlets for three coins.
You hang Libyan table-disks from Indian teeth;
     my beechwood table is propped with a potsherd.              10
For you, tawny mullets cover immoderate gold-plate;
     prawn, blush of like color on our platter.

Grex tuus Iliaco poterat certare cinaedo:
at mihi succurrit pro Ganymede manus.
Ex opibus tantis ueteri fidoque sodali 15

Your flock could compete with the Iliac catamite:
but for me a hand comes to my aid in place of Ganymede.
Out of such great opulence to an old and faithful comrade 15

das nihil et dicis, Candide, Koina philon?

you give nothing, and you say, Candide, 'friends have things in common'?

Emi seu puerum togamue pexam
seu tres, ut puta, quattuorue libras,
Sextus protinus ille fenerator,
quem nostis ueterem meum sodalem,
ne quid forte petam timet cauetque, 5
et secum, sed ut audiam, susurrat:
'Septem milia debeo Secundo,
Phoebo quattuor, undecim Phileto,
et quadrans mihi nullus est in arca.'
O grande ingenium mei sodalis! 10
Durum est, Sexte, negare, cum rogaris:
quanto durius, antequam rogeris!

Whether I buy a slave-boy or a brushed toga,
or three, say, or even four pounds,
Sextus—straightway that moneylender,
whom you know, my old comrade—
lest by chance I might ask for anything, he fears and is on guard, 5
and mutters to himself, but so that I may hear:
‘I owe seven thousand to Secundus,
four to Phoebus, eleven to Philetus,
and I have not a farthing in the coffer.’
O great cleverness of my comrade! 10
It is hard, Sextus, to refuse when you are asked:
how much harder, before you are asked!

Quae tibi non stabat praecisa est mentula, Glypte.
Demens, cum ferro quid tibi? Gallus eras.

The penis which did not stand for you has been cut off, Glyptus.
Madman, what had you to do with the blade? You were a Gallus.

Florida per uarios ut pingitur Hybla colores,
     cum breue Sicaniae uer populantur apes,
sic tua subpositis conlucent prela lacernis,
     sic micat innumeris arcula synthesibus,
+atque unam+ uestire tribum tua candida possunt,              5
     Apula non uno quae grege terra tulit.
Tu spectas hiemem succincti lentus amici
     pro scelus! et lateris frigora trita tui.

As flowery Hybla is painted with various colors,
     when the brief spring of Sicily the bees populate,
so your presses shine with cloaks set underneath,
     so your little coffer flashes with innumerable syntheses,
+and a single+ tribe your shining whites can clothe,              5
     which the Apulian land has produced not from one flock.
You look upon the winter of a girded friend, slow to help—
     for shame!—and the oft-worn frigidity of your side.

Quantum erat, infelix, pannis fraudare duobus —
quid renuis? — non te, Naeuole, sed tineas? 10

How small a thing it would have been, unlucky one, to defraud of two rags —
why do you refuse? — not yourself, Naevolus, but the moths? 10

Subdola famosae moneo fuge retia moechae,
leuior o conchis, Galle, Cytheriacis.
Confidis natibus? Non est pedico maritus;
quae faciat duo sunt: irrumat aut futuit.

I warn you: flee the nets of the sly, notorious adulteress,
lighter, O Gallus, than the Cytherian shells.
Do you trust in your buttocks? The husband is not a sodomizer;
what he does is twofold: he forces oral sex or he fucks.

Coponem laniumque balneumque,
tonsorem tabulamque calculosque
et paucos, sed ut eligam, libellos:
unum non nimium rudem sodalem
et grandem puerum diuque leuem 5
et caram puero meo puellam:
haec praesta mihi, Rufe, uel Butuntis,
et thermas tibi habe Neronianas.

A tavern-keeper and a butcher and a bath,
a barber and a board and counters
and a few, but chosen, little books:
one comrade not too raw
and a big boy smooth for a long time 5
and a girl dear to my boy:
provide these for me, Rufus, even at Butuntis,
and keep for yourself the Neronian baths.

Vxorem nolo Telesinam ducere: quare?
Moecha est. Sed pueris dat Telesina: uolo.

I do not want to take Telesina as wife: why?
She is an adulteress. But Telesina gives to the boys: I want to.

Quod fellas et aquam potas, nil, Lesbia, peccas:
qua tibi parte opus est, Lesbia, sumis aquam.

Because you fellate and drink water, you do nothing wrong, Lesbia:
with the part where you have need, Lesbia, you take water.

Vnus saepe tibi tota denarius arca
     cum sit et hic culo tritior, Hylle, tuo,
non tamen hunc pistor, non auferet hunc tibi copo,
     sed si quis nimio pene superbus erit.
Infelix uenter spectat conuiuia culi,              5
     et semper miser hic esurit, ille uorat.

One denarius is often your whole coffer,
     and even this is more rubbed than your ass, Hylle;
yet neither the baker nor the innkeeper will take this from you,
     but one who is overproud with an excessively large penis will.
The unlucky belly watches the banquets of the ass,              5
     and always this one is hungry, that one devours.

Nouit loturos Dasius numerare: poposcit
mammosam Spatalen pro tribus; illa dedit.

Dasius knows how to count the bathers: he demanded buxom Spatale as three; she paid.

Vis fieri liber? Mentiris, Maxime, non uis:
     sed fieri si uis, hac ratione potes.
Liber eris, cenare foris si, Maxime, nolis,
     Veintana tuam si domat uua sitim,
si ridere potes miseri chrydendeta Cinnae,              5
     contentus nostra si potes esse toga,
si plebeia Venus gemino tibi uincitur asse,
     si tua non rectus tecta subire potes.

Do you want to be free? You lie, Maximus, you do not want it:
     but if you do want to become so, by this method you can.
You will be free, if you, Maximus, are unwilling to dine out,
     if Veientane grape tames your thirst,
if you can laugh at the gold-embroidered finery of wretched Cinna,              5
     if you can be content with our toga,
if plebeian Venus is won for you with a double as,
     if you can go under your own roof not upright.

Haec tibi si uis est, si mentis tanta potestas,
liberior Partho uiuere rege potes. 10

If you have this will, if there is such a power of mind,
you can live freer than the Parthian king. 10

Quid de te, Line, suspicetur uxor
et qua parte uelit pudiciorem,
certis indiciis satis probauit,
custodem tibi quae dedit spadonem.
Nil nasutius hac maligniusque. 5

What your wife suspects about you, Linus,
and in what respect she wants you more chaste,
she has sufficiently proved by sure indications,
she who gave you a eunuch as a guardian.
Nothing more nosy and more malicious than this. 5

Vis te, Sexte, coli: uolebam amare.
Parendum est tibi: quod iubes, coleris;
sed si te colo, Sexte, non amabo.

You want to be courted, Sextus; I wanted to love.
One must obey you: what you command, you’ll be courted;
but if I court you, Sextus, I shall not love.

Gentibus in Libycis uxor tua, Galle, male audit
inmodicae foedo crimine auaritiae.
Sed mera narrantur mendacia: non solet illa
accipere omnino. Quid solet ergo?

Among the Libyan peoples, your wife, Galle, has a bad reputation
for the foul charge of immoderate avarice.
But mere lies are told: she is not accustomed
to receive at all. What, then, is she accustomed to do?

Dare.

To give.

Hic quem uidetis gressibus uagis lentum,
amethystinatus media qui secat Saepta,
quem non lacernis Publius meus uincit,
non ipse Cordus alpha paenulatorum,
quem grex togatus sequitur et capillatus 5
recensque sella linteisque lorisque,
oppignerauit modo modo ad Cladi mensam
uix octo nummis anulum, unde cenaret.

This man whom you see slow with wandering steps,
amethystine-clad, who cuts through the middle of the Saepta,
whom my Publius does not surpass in cloaks,
nor Cordus himself, the alpha of the paenula-wearers,
whom a band, toga-clad and long-haired, follows, 5
and a new sedan-chair, and linens and straps,
has just now pawned at Cladus’s counter
his ring for scarcely eight coins, so that he might dine.

Pexatus pulchre rides mea, Zoile, trita.
Sunt haec trita quidem, Zoile, sed mea sunt.

Well-combed, you laugh at my trite things, Zoilus.
These are trite indeed, Zoilus, but they are mine.

Mica uocor: quid sim cernis, cenatio parua:
ex me Caesareum prospicis ecce tholum.
Frange toros, pete uina, rosas cape, tinguere nardo:
ipse iubet mortis te meminisse deus.

I am called Mica: you discern what I am, a small dining-room:
from me you look out—behold—the Caesarean dome.
Break the couches, seek the wines, take roses, be tinged with nard:
the god himself bids you to remember death.

Vxorem armati futuis, Puer Hylle, tribuni,
supplicium tantum dum puerile times.
Vae tibi! dum ludis, castrabere.

You bed the wife of an armed tribune, Youth Hylas,
only so long as you fear a puerile punishment.
Woe to you! while you play, you will be castrated.

Iam mihi dices
'Non licet hoc'. Quid? tu quod facis, Hylle, licet?

Now you will say to me
'This is not permitted.' What? Is what you do, Hylle, permitted?

Cum tibi uernarent dubia lanugine malae,
     lambebat medios improba lingua uiros.
Postquam triste caput fastidia uispillonum
     et miseri meruit taedia carnificis,
uteris ore aliter nimiaque aerugine captus              5
     adlatras nomen quod tibi cumque datur.
Haereat inguinibus potius tam noxia lingua:
     nam cum fellaret, purior illa fuit.

When your cheeks were sprouting with doubtful down,
     your impudent tongue was licking men in their middles.
After your grim head earned the disgusts of corpse-bearers
     and the tedium of the wretched executioner,
you use your mouth otherwise, and, seized by excessive verdigris              5
     you bark at whatever name is given to you.
Let so noxious a tongue rather stick to groins:
     for when it used to fellate, it was purer.

Quod pectus, quod crura tibi, quod bracchia uellis,
quod cincta est breuibus mentula tonsa pilis,
hoc praestas, Labiene, tuae — quis nescit? — amicae.
Cui praestas, culum quod, Labiene, pilas?

That you depilate your chest, your legs, your arms,
that your penis, tonsured, is girt with short hairs,
this you provide, Labienus, for your girlfriend — who does not know it?
For whom do you provide that you depilate your ass, Labienus?

Sola tibi fuerant sestertia, Miliche, centum,
quae tulit e sacra Leda redempta uia.
Miliche, luxuria est si tanti diues amares.
'Non amo' iam dices: haec quoque luxuria est.

Only a hundred sestertia had been yours, Miliche,
which Leda, redeemed, carried off from the Sacred Way.
Miliche, it is luxury if, rich, you would love at so great a price.
'I do not love,' you will now say: this too is luxury.

Dum modo causidicum, dum te modo rhetora fingis
     et non decernis, Laure, quid esse uelis,
Peleos et Priami transit et Nestoris aetas
     et fuerat serum iam tibi desinere.
Incipe, tres uno perierunt rhetores anno,              5
     si quid habes animi, si quid in arte uales.
Si schola damnatur, fora litibus omnia feruent,
     ipse potest fieri Marsua causidicus.

While now you fashion yourself an advocate, now a rhetor,
     and do not decide, Laure, what you wish to be,
the age of Peleus and of Priam and of Nestor passes
     and it had already been too late for you to desist.
Begin; three rhetors have perished in one year,              5
     if you have any spirit, if you are worth anything in the art.
If the school is condemned, the fora all seethe with lawsuits,
     Marsyas himself can become an advocate.

Heia age, rumpe moras: quo te sperabimus usque?
Dum quid sis dubitas, iam potes esse nihil. 10

Hey, come on, break the delays: how long shall we hope for you?
While you doubt what you are, already you can be nothing. 10

Cur tristiorem cernimus Saleianum?
'An causa leuis est?' inquis, 'extuli uxorem.'
O grande fati crimen! O grauem casum!

Why do we see Saleianus sadder?
'Or is the cause slight?' you say, 'I have carried out my wife to burial.'
O great crime of Fate! O grave misfortune!

Illa, illa diues mortua est Secundilla,
centena decies quae tibi dedit dotis? 5
Nollem accidisset hoc tibi, Saleiane.

She—she, rich Secundilla—is dead,
who gave you a million in dowry? 5
I wish this had not happened to you, Saleiane.

Vnus de toto peccauerat orbe comarum
     anulus, incerta non bene fixus acu:
hoc facinus Lalage speculo, quo uiderat, ulta est,
     et cecidit saeuis icta Plecusa comis.
Desine iam, Lalage, tristes ornare capillos,              5
     tangat et insanum nulla puella caput.
Hoc salamandra notet uel saeua nouacula nudet,
     ut digna speculo fiat imago tua.

One little ringlet from the whole orb of tresses had sinned—
     a ring, not well fastened by an unsure pin:
this crime Lalage avenged with the mirror in which she had seen it,
     and Plecusa fell, smitten by savage tresses.
Cease now, Lalage, to adorn your gloomy locks,              5
     and let no girl touch your mad head.
Let a salamander mark this, or a cruel razor strip it bare,
     so that your image may become worthy of the mirror.

Occurris quocumque loco mihi, Postume, clamas
protinus et prima est haec tua uox 'Quid agis?'
Hoc, si me decies una conueneris hora,
dicis: habes puto tu, Postume, nil quod agas.

You run into me wherever I am, Postumus, you shout
at once, and these are your first words: 'What are you doing?'
This, even if you meet me ten times in one hour,
you say: you have, I think, Postumus, nothing to do.

Quod te nomine iam tuo saluto,
quem regem et dominum prius uocabam,
ne me dixeris esse contumacem:
totis pillea sarcinis redemi.
Reges et dominos habere debet 5
qui se non habet atque concupiscit
quod reges dominique concupiscunt.
Seruom si potes, Ole, non habere,
et regem potes, Ole, non habere.

Because I now salute you by your own name,
whom earlier I used to call king and lord,
do not say that I am contumacious:
with all my baggage I redeemed the caps of freedom.
He ought to have kings and lords 5
who does not possess himself and covets
what kings and lords covet.
If you can, Ole, not have a slave,
you can, Ole, not have a king.

Inuitum cenare foris te, Classice, dicis:
     si non mentiris, Classice, dispeream.
Ipse quoque ad cenam gaudebat Apicius ire:
     cum cenaret, erat tristior ille, domi.
Si tamen inuitus uadis, cur, Classice, uadis?              5
     'Cogor' ais: uerum est; cogitur et Selius.

You say you dine out unwillingly, Classicus:
     if you are not lying, Classicus, may I perish.
Apicius himself also rejoiced to go to dinner:
     when he dined at home, he was sadder.
If, however, you go unwilling, why, Classicus, do you go?              5
     'I am compelled,' you say: it is true; Selius too is compelled.

En rogat ad cenam Melior te, Classice, rectam:
grandia uerba ubi sunt? Si uir es, ecce, nega.

Behold, Melior invites you, Classicus, to a proper, straight dinner:
where are the grand words? If you are a man, behold, refuse.

Non uis in solio prius lauari
quemquam, Cotile: causa quae, nisi haec est,
undis ne fouearis irrumatis?
Primus te licet abluas: necesse est
ante hic mentula quam caput lauetur. 5

You do not want anyone to bathe in the tub before you, Cotile:
what is the reason, unless it is this,
so that you may not be warmed by waters defiled with irrumation?
Even if you wash first: it is necessary
here that the prick be washed before the head. 5

Candidius nihil est te, Caeciliane. Notaui,
si quando ex nostris disticha pauca lego,
protinus aut Marsi recitas aut scripta Catulli.
Hoc mihi das, tamquam deteriora legas,
ut conlata magis placeant mea?

Nothing is more candid than you, Caecilianus. I have noted,
if ever I read a few distichs from my own,
immediately you recite either the writings of Marsus or of Catullus.
Do you grant me this, as though you were reading worse things,
so that mine, when compared, may please more?

Credimus istud: 5
malo tamen recites, Caeciliane, tua.

We believe that: 5
yet I would rather you recite your own, Caecilianus.

Hesterna factum narratur, Postume, cena
     quod nollem — quis enim talia facta probet? —
os tibi percisum quanto non ipse Latinus
     uilia Panniculi percutit ora sono:
quodque magis mirum est, auctorem criminis huius              5
     Caecilium tota rumor in urbe sonat.
Esse negas factum: uis hoc me credere?

It is reported that at yesterday’s dinner, Postumus, a deed occurred
     which I would not wish—for who, indeed, approves such deeds?—
that your face was smitten, with a sound than which not even Latinus himself
     strikes the cheap cheeks of Panniculus with a sound:
and what is more wondrous, the rumor in the whole city resounds that the author of this crime              5
     is Caecilius.
You deny it was done: do you want me to believe this?

credo.
Quid quod habet testes, Postume, Caecilius?

I believe.
What about the fact that Caecilius has witnesses, Postumus?

Quid faciat uolt scire Lyris. Quid? Sobria fellat.

Lyris wants to know what she should do. What? Sober, she fellates.

Cinctum togatis post et ante Saufeium,
quanta reduci Regulus solet turba,
ad alta tonsum templa cum reum misit,
Materne, cernis? Inuidere nolito:
comitatus iste sit precor tuus numquam. 5
Hos illi amicos et greges togatorum
Fuficulenus praestat et Fauentinus.

Saufeius, surrounded by toga-wearers behind and before,
as great a throng as Regulus is wont to have when returning,
when he sent the shorn defendant to the lofty temples—
do you see, Maternus? Do not envy:
may that escort, I pray, never be yours. 5
Those friends and herds of toga-wearers for him
Fuficulenus and Faventinus supply.

Verbera securi solitus leo ferre magistri
     insertamque pati blandus in ora manum
dedidicit pacem subito feritate reuersa,
     quanta nec in Libycis debuit esse iugis.
Nam duo de tenera puerilia corpora turba,              5
     sanguineam rastris quae renouabat humum,
saeuos et infelix furiali dente peremit:
     Martia non uidit maius harena nefas.
Exclamare libet: 'Crudelis, perfide, praedo,
     a nostra pueris parcere disce lupa!'              10

A lion, accustomed to bear the blows of his master’s axe,
     and, gentle, to endure a hand thrust into his mouth,
unlearned peace, savagery suddenly returned—
     such as ought not to have been even on Libyan ridges.
For two boyish bodies from the tender crowd,              5
     who were renewing the blood-red soil with rakes,
the savage beast, luckless, destroyed with a fury-driven tooth:
     the Martial sand has not seen a greater impiety.
One is moved to cry: “Cruel, treacherous plunderer,
     learn from our she-wolf to spare boys!”              10

Argenti libras Marius tibi quinque reliquit,
cui nihil ipse dabas: hic tibi uerba dedit?

Of silver Marius left you five pounds,
to whom you yourself were giving nothing: did this man give you mere words?

Cosconi, qui longa putas epigrammata nostra,
     utilis unguendis axibus esse potes.
Hac tu credideris longum ratione colosson
     et puerum Bruti dixeris esse breuem.
Disce quod ignoras: Marsi doctique Pedonis              5
     saepe duplex unum pagina tractat opus.

Cosconius, you who think our epigrams long,
     you can be useful for greasing axles.
By this rationale you would believe the Colossus long
     and you would say that Brutus’s boy is short.
Learn what you do not know: of Marsus and of learned Pedo              5
     often a double page handles a single work.

Non sunt longa quibus nihil est quod demere possis,
sed tu, Cosconi, disticha longa facis.

They are not long, those from which there is nothing you can take away;
but you, Cosconi, make distichs long.

Aestiuo serues ubi piscem tempore, quaeris?
In thermis serua, Caeciliane, tuis.

Where should you keep fish in summertime, you ask?
Keep it in your baths, Caecilianus.

Inuitas tunc me cum scis, Nasica, uocasse.
Excusatum habeas me rogo: ceno domi.

You invite me then, when you know, Nasica, that I have invited.
Have me excused, I ask: I dine at home.

Hostem cum fugeret, se Fannius ipse peremit.
Hic, rogo, non furor est, ne moriare, mori?

While fleeing the enemy, Fannius himself killed himself.
Here, I ask, is this not furor—to die, lest you die?

Laxior hexaphoris tua sit lectica licebit:
cum tamen haec tua sit, Zoile, sandapila est.

Let your litter be roomier—fit for six bearers, if you like:
yet since this is yours, Zoilus, it is a bier.

Abscisa seruom quid figis, Pontice, lingua?
Nescis tu populum, quod tacet ille, loqui?

Why do you fix a slave, Ponticus, with his tongue cut off?
Do you not know that the people speak what he keeps silent?

Foedasti miserum, marite, moechum,
et se, qui fuerant prius, requirunt
trunci naribus auribusque uoltus.
Credis te satis esse uindicatum?
Erras: iste potest et irrumare. 5

You have disfigured the wretched adulterer, husband,
and faces, maimed of noses and ears, look for what they once were.
Do you think yourself sufficiently avenged?
You’re wrong: that fellow can still irrumate. 5

Mollis erat facilisque uiris Poeantius heros:
uolnera sic Paridis dicitur ulta Venus.
Cur lingat cunnum Siculus Sertorius, hoc est:
abs hoc occisus, Rufe, uidetur Eryx.

The Poeantian hero was soft and easy for men:
thus Venus is said to have avenged the wounds of Paris.
Why the Sicilian Sertorius licks cunt, this is it:
by this man, Rufus, Eryx seems to have been slain.

Vimine clausa leui niueae custodia coctae,
hoc tibi Saturni tempore munus erit.
Dona quod aestatis misi tibi mense Decembri
si quereris, rasam tu mihi mitte togam.

Shut in light withy-work, a guardian of a boiled snow-white [egg],
this will be your gift at Saturn’s season.
If you complain that I sent you gifts of summer in the month of December,
send me in return a shorn, smoothed toga.

Quod nec carmine glorior supino
nec retro lego Sotaden cinaedum,
nusquam Graecula quod recantat echo
nec dictat mihi luculentus Attis
mollem debilitate galliambon, 5
non sum, Classice, tam malus poeta.
Quid si per gracilis uias petauri
inuitum iubeas subire Ladan?
Turpe est difficiles habere nugas
et stultus labor est ineptiarum. 10
Scribat carmina circulis Palaemon,
me raris iuuat auribus placere.

Because I neither vaunt in supine song
nor read backward Sotades the catamite,
because nowhere does a little Greek echo re-chant,
nor does brilliant Attis dictate to me
a soft galliambic weakened by debility, 5
I am not, Classicus, so bad a poet.
What if along the slender ways of the acrobat’s tightrope
you bid me, unwilling, to emulate Ladas?
It is shameful to have difficult trifles,
and a foolish labor is that of ineptitudes. 10
Let Palaemon write songs for circles;
it delights me to please with rare ears.

Dicis amore tui bellas ardere puellas,
qui faciem sub aqua, Sexte, natantis habes.

You say that beautiful girls burn with love for you,
you who have, Sextus, the face of a swimmer under water.

Nil recitas et uis, Mamerce, poeta uideri:
quidquid uis esto, dummodo nil recites.

You recite nothing, and you wish to appear a poet, Mamercus:
be whatever you wish, provided that you recite nothing.

Quod nimio gaudes noctem producere uino
     ignosco: uitium, Gaure, Catonis habes.
Carmina quod scribis Musis et Apolline nullo
     laudari debes: hoc Ciceronis habes.
Quod uomis, Antoni: quod luxuriaris, Apici.              5
     Quod fellas, uitium dic mihi cuius habes?

That you delight to prolong the night with excessive wine
     I excuse: you have Cato’s vice, Gaurus.
That you write poems with no Muses and no Apollo
     you ought to be praised: this you have of Cicero.
That you vomit, is Antony’s; that you are luxurious, Apicius’s.              5
     That you perform fellatio—tell me, whose vice do you have?

Quintiliane,uagae moderator summe iuuentae,
     gloria Romanae, Quintiliane, togae,
uiuere quod propero pauper nec inutilis annis,
     da ueniam: properat uiuere nemo satis.
Differat hoc patrios optat qui uincere census              5
     atriaque inmodicis artat imaginibus:
me focus et nigros non indignantia fumos
     tecta iuuant et fons uiuus et herba rudis.
Sit mihi uerna satur, sit non doctissima coniunx,
     sit nox cum somno, sit sine lite dies.              10

Quintilian, supreme moderator of roving youth,
     glory of the Roman toga, Quintilian,
because I hasten to live, poor and not yet made useless by my years,
     grant pardon: no one hastens enough to live.
Let him defer this who wishes to surpass his ancestral revenues              5
     and cramps his halls with immoderate images:
I am pleased by a hearth and a roof that does not resent black smokes,
     and a living spring and rough grass.
Let there be for me a well-fed homeborn slave, let my wife not be most learned,
     let the night be with sleep, let the day be without litigation.              10

Rerum certa salus, terrarum gloria, Caesar,
     sospite quo magnos credimus esse deos,
si festinatis totiens tibi lecta libellis
     detinuere oculos carmina nostra tuos,
quod fortuna uetat fieri permitte uideri,              5
     natorum genitor credar ut esse trium.
Haec, si displicui, fuerint solacia nobis;
     haec fuerint nobis praemia, si placui.

Sure safeguard of affairs, glory of the lands, Caesar,
     with you in safety we believe the gods to be great,
if our songs, so often read to you from hurried little books,
     have detained your eyes,
allow that to seem which Fortune forbids to be,              5
     so that I may be believed to be the father of three children.
These, if I have displeased, shall have been consolations to me;
     these shall have been my rewards, if I have pleased.

     Natorum mihi ius trium roganti
     Musarum pretium dedit mearum
     solus qui poterat. Valebis, uxor:
     non debet domini perire munus.

     To me, asking for the right of three children,
     he alone who could gave the reward of my Muses.
     Farewell, wife:
     the master’s gift ought not to perish.

'Primus ubi est' inquis 'cum sit liber iste secundus?'
Quid faciam, si plus ille pudoris habet?
Tu tamen hunc fieri si mauis, Regule, primum,
unum de titulo tollere iota potes.

'Where is the first,' you say, 'since this book is the second?'
What am I to do, if that one has more modesty?
Yet if you prefer this one to become the first, Regulus,
you can take away one iota from the title.