Epigrammaton Liber

If worms and decay must needs be thy lot, my sheet, begin to perish under my verses first. Rather, thou sayest, the worms. Wisely, my woeful little book, dost thou choose to endure the lesser evil. But I like not to lose the leisure given to the wasteful Muse, who causes loss of slimmer and lamp-oil too. It had been better to sleep than to lose both slumber and oil. Well said: but this is my reason for it. I am angry with Proculus 1 whose eloquenee is equal to his rank. He has written reams, but keeps all close. On him I long to be avenged, and a poet has vengeance ready to hand: let him who publishes not his own verse read mine. For him is it to decide whether to bid thee keep thy youth with cedar oil,2 or to be food for cruel worms. To him I commit all that I have to show for my inglorious leisure, either to scan what I shall give him or to ban it.

EPIGRAMS ON VARIOUS MATTERS

'TIS said that Agathocles 1 when king dined off earthen plates and that his sideboard oft bare a load of Samian ware, whereas he used to lay his rustic trays with jewelled cups, thus mingling wealth and poverty together. To one who asked his reason he replied: I, who am king of Sicily, was born a potter's son. Bear good fortune modestly, whoe'er thou art who from a lowly place shall rise suddenly to riches.

A FAITHLESS wife gave poison to her jealous spouse, but believed that not enough was given to cause death. She added quicksilver of deadly weight, that the poison's redoubled strength might force on a speedy end. If one keep these apart, separate they act as poison; whoso shall drink them together, will take an antidote. Therefore while these baleful draughts strove with each other, the deadly force yielded to the wholesome. Forthwith they sought the void recesses of the belly by the accustomed easy path for swallowed food. Mark well the loving kindness of the gods! A wife too ruthless is a gain, and, when the Fates will, two poisons work for good.

EUNOMUS had once pronounced that Gains would die of his sickness. He slipped away, Fate—not the doctor—aiding. A little afterwards the doctor saw, or thought he saw, the man, pale, and in death's very likeness. Who art thou? he asked. Gaius, he answered. Art thou alive? He answered No. And what now dost thou here? I come, said he, at the behest of Dis, because I still retained knowledge of the world and men, to summon to him doctors. Eunomus grew stiff with fright. Then Gaius: Fear nothing, Eunomus: I said, as all men say, that no man who is wise calls you a doctor.

WHELPS' barking, horses' neighing thou dost copy, and imitate the bleating of herds of goats and woolly flocks, and a man would say asses were braying, when thou, Marcus, wouldst mimic the Arcadian herd.1 The cock's crow, the raven's throaty caw and whatever cry is uttered by beast or bird—though these thou canst imitate so naturally that no one believes them feigned, thou canst not command the sound of the human voice.

HOW can a master speak a word correctly who cannot utter his own name without mistake? Auxilium 2 (a help) callest thou thyself forsooth, ignorant usher? Give the nominative: straightway thou wilt be a solecism!

BECAUSE with purchased books thy library is crammed, dost think thyself a learned man and scholarly, Philomusus? After this sort thou will lay up strings, keys, and lyres, and, having purchased all, to-morrow thou wilt be a musician.

REMINISCO, 1 wrote Rufus in his verse: so then the verse—nay, Rufus—has no cor (wit).

THIS is a statue of Rufus the Rhetorician; nothing more life-like: 'tis the man himself, so much lacks it tongue and brain. 'Tis stiff and dumb and sees not: in these points it tallies. One single point of difference is there—he was a little softer.

WITH lips so fair and lips so dumb, wouldst know who I am? I would. I am a figure of Rufus the Pictavian rhetorician. Nay, I would have the rhetorician tell me this himself. He cannot. Why? The real rhetorician is an image of this image.

IS this a statue of Rufus the rhetorician? If 'tis of stone, 'tis Rufus's. Why sayest thou so? Rufus himself Mas always made of stone. VOL. II M

WHO painted thee, Rufus, tongue-tied, in the likeness of a speaking man? Tell me, Rufus. Thou art silent? Nothing is more like you.

THIS is a picture of Rufus. Nothing more lifelike. Where is Rufus himself? In his chair. What is he doing? The same as in the picture.

HE MEANT TO HANG HIMSELF (FROM THE GREEK) 2 HE who was knotting a halter for his own neck, found gold and buried the halter in the treasure's place. But he who had hidden the gold, not finding it, fitted about his neck the halter which he found.

The beginning is half the whole.3 BEGIN: to have commenced is half the deed. Half yet remains: begin again on this and thou wilt finish all.

Favours slow-fooled are unfavoured favours. FAVOURS which tarry meet small favour. For a favour when it hastes to be performed, is a favour more favoured.5

IF thou doest aught good, do it quickly. For what is done quickly will be acceptable. Favours slow granted are unfavourably received.

AS CAPANEUS A HAPPY chance combined with a fault in skill: a tumbler, dancing the part of Capaneus, fell to the ground.1

Dodra 2 (nines) is from dodrans (nine-twelfths). Thus compound: broth, Mater. Mine, salt, oil, bread, honey, pepper, herbs: there's nine!

I AM called dodra. Why so? 1 am made of nine ingredients. What are they? Broth, water, honey, Mine, bread, pepper, herbs, oil, salt.

I, dodra, brew and number both, contain honey, wine, oil, bread, salt, herbs, broth, water, pepper.

I LOVE one girl who hates me. and again another who loves me I hate. Settle the trouble between us, sweet Venus, if thou canst. Right easily will I: I will change thy leanings and thy loves; the one shall hate, the other love. Again I shall suffer the same fate. Wouldst love them both? If both should love me, I would. Bestow this, Mareus, on thyself: to be beloved, love.

LO, Venus, thou hast persuaded me to love two girls, a luckless lover. Each hates me: give me another counsel now. Overcome both with gifts. Fain would I: but scant is my store at home. Tempt them with promises. A poor man has no credit. Swear by the gods. But 'twere a sin to deceive the gods. Keep watch before their doors. I fear to be caught at night. Write sonnets. I cannot, having no skill of the Muses and Apollo. Break down their doors. I fear the legal penalties. Fool, thou dost let thyself be killed by love: wouldst thou not die for love? I would rather be called poor fellow than poor prisoner. I have advised thee all I can: now take others' counsel. Tell me whose? Phaedra and Elissa will give the advice they gave themselves, Canace, too, and Phyllis, and she whom Phaon scorned. Do you give this counsel? Such is given to the unhappy!

BREAK IN PIECES A HUMAN SKULL. THE bare skull of an unburied man lay cast away where three roads met—a bald thing now stripped of skin. Other men wept: by weeping all unmoved. Achilas even struck and cleft it with a stone. And so the avenging stone, glancing from the skull, flew back and caught the face and eyes of him who threw it. So may an impious hand ever aim it* deadly blows, that the weapon may rebound and smite the wielder.

HERE is what thou mayest read at morn, here also what at eve; I have mingled grave with gay, each to give pleasure at its season. Life wears not one hue, nor has my verse one reader only; each page has its due season; mitred Venus approves this, helmed Minerva that; the Stoic loves this part, Epicurus that. So long as the code of ancient maimers remains by me unbroken, let the grave Muse applaud at lawful jests.

PHOEBUS, thou lord of song and thou, Tritonia, queen of war, thou also, Victory, down-swooping in dizzy flight, deck with a two-fold diadem an unknitted brow 2: bring garlands, those which are gifts in peace, those which are prizes in fight. Mighty in war and eloquence, Augustus 3 doubly wins renown, so that he claims a two-fold title, since by the Muses' aid he allays wars and by Apollo's restrains the Getie Mars. 'Midst arms and Huns ferocious and Sauromatae dangerous in stealth, whatever rest he has from hours of war, in camp he lavishes it all upon the Clarian 1 Muses. Scarce has he laid aside his swift arrows, those whirring darts: 'tis to the Muses' shafts he turns his hand, repose he knows not, and setting the reed to new employ essays a song: yet 'tis a song not soft of strain; the frightful wars of Odrysian Mars and the prowess of the Thracian warrior-maid he treats anew. Rejoice, thou son of Aeacus! Thou art sung once more by a lofty bard and thou art blessed with a Roman Homer.2

THE beast which knows not how to yield when pierced with the broad steel, but hurls itself upon the gory spear of a full-armed man, how marvellous the death it surfers from a tiny wound, showing that on the hand alone death's might depends. Men wonder at swift disasters and sudden downfalls …..........and not content to drive its deadly course through the stricken limbs, a single arrow deals two deaths at once. If full many deaths come from one lightning stroke, these wounds also thou mayest deem sent from heaven.

LORD among streams of Illyricum, next to thee in greatness, O Nile, I, Danube, from my source put forth my head in joy. I bid the Emperors hail, father and son,1 whom I have nurtured amid the sword-wearing Pannonians. As herald to the Euxine Sea even now I long to speed, that Valens, who is Heaven's next care, may learn of this—that with slaughter, flight, and fire the Swabians 2 are hurled to destruction, and Rhine no longer is accounted the frontier of Gaul. But if at the sea's behest my stream should flow backwards may I hither bring from there news that the Goths are vanquished.

MARBLE STATUE Now we have made thee of marble, as our means afford: but when thine Emperor-brother is returned, he thou of gold.3

The death which the lion suffers through so frail a reed is due, not to the weapon's power, but to the wielder's.

OF THE EMPEROR VALENTINIAN I, DANUBE, whose head was once concealed in lands remote, now How at full length under your sway: where 'midst the Suebi I pour forth my chill source, where I divide the Pannonias pregnant with empire,1 and where with wealth of waters I open my mouth to the Scythian sea, all my streams I cause to pass beneath your Roman yoke. To Augustus shall the chief palm be given, but the next to Valens: lie too shall find out sources—even thine, O Nile.

Fond painter, why dost thou essay to limn my face, and vex a goddess whom eyes never saw? I am the daughter of Air and Speech, mother of empty utterance, in that I have a voice without a mind. From their dying close I bring back failing strains and in mimicry repeat the words of strangers with my own. I am Echo, dwelling in the recesses of your ears: and if thou wouldst paint my likeness, paint sound.

Whose work art thou? Pheidias's: his who made Pallas' statue, who made Jove's: his third masterpiece am I. I am a goddess seldom found and known to few, Opportunity my name. Why stand'st thou on a wheel? I cannot stand still. Why wearest thou winged sandals? I am ever flying. The gifts which Mercury scatters at random I bestow when I will. Thou coverest thy face with thy hair. I would not be recognised. But—what!—art thou bald at the back of thy head? That none may catch me as 1 flee. Who is she who bears thee company? Let her tell thee. Tell me, I beg, who thou art. I am a goddess to whom not even Cicero himself gave a name. I am a goddess who exacts penalties for what is done and what undone, to cause repentance. So I am called Metanoea.1" " Do thou 2 now tell me what does she along with thee? When I have flown away she remains: she is retained by those I have passed by. Thou also whilst thou keepest asking, whilst thou tarriest with questioning wilt say that I have slipped away out of thy hands.

I USED to say to thee: Galla, we grow old, Time Hies away, enjoy thy life: a chaste girl is an old woman. Thou didst scorn my warning. Age has crept upon thee unperceived, nor canst thou call back the days that are gone. Now thou art sorry and dost lament, either because then thou wert disinclined, or because now thou hast not that former beauty. Yet give me thine embrace and share forgotten joys with me. Give: I will take, albeit not what I would, yet what I once would.

ONCE on the strand of Sicily a sea-dog snapped up a hare speeding before the hounds. Then said the hare: Against me both sea and land direct their ravages, perchance heaven also; since there is a Dog among the stars.

AS lazy a scribe as a sluggish runner, thou, Pergamus, didst run away and wert caught at the first lap. Therefore thou hast felt letters 1 branded, Pergamus, upon thy face, and those which thy right hand neglected thy brow endures.

PERGAMUS, when thou wast punished't was not just thy brow should bear the penalty which thy slow hands earned. Nay, do thou, their master, control thy errant limbs: it is unfair to torment those not really guilty. Either mark that right hand which will not make a mark, or shackle those errant feet with an iron weight.

HOAR-HEADED Myron asked Lais for an assignation, and was refused outright: he understood the cause, and dyed his white poll with black soot. In face— though not in hair—the selfsame Myron, he begged what he had begged before. But she, contrasting his features with his hair, and thinking him like, though not the same (perchance even thinking him the same, but wishing to enjoy the jest), thus addressed the artful gallant: Fool, why askest thou what I have refused? I have already rejected thy father.

OF Lais and Glyeera, ladies of naughty fame, whene'er my wife read in my verse, she said 1 did but play and feign strange loves in jest. Such is her confidence in my integrity.

DEAR wife, as we have lived, so let us live and keep the names we took when first we wedded: let no day ever make us change in lapse of time; but I will be thy Lad still and thou wilt be my Lass. Though I should outlive Nestor, and thou too shouldst outstrip Deiphobe of Cumae 1 in rivalry of years, let us refuse to know the meaning of ripe age. Better to know Time's worth than count his years.

WHO first compounded thee thy name, Meroe, he for Hippolytus, Theseus' son, compounded a name. For 'tis divining to make such a name as betokens lot, or character, or death. So, Protesilaus, the Fates gave thee thy name, because thou wert to be Troy's first victim.2 When men call a poet Idmon,3 a physician Iapyx,4 the names anticipate the arts they are to learn. Even so art thou Meroe, not because thou art dusky-hued as one born in Nile-washed

Meroe.; but because thou never slakest wine with water, being used to drink draughts unallayed of wine, pure wine.1

AS a stone the Persians once brought me here to be a trophy of war; now am I Nemesis. And even as I stand here a trophy of Greek victory., so as Nemesis I requite the idly-boasting Persians.3

FELL FIGHTING MOST BRAVELY 4 THAT thou receivest seven gashes all in front, that thou art borne, Thrasybulus, upon thy shield, this grieves not thy sire, but adds greater glory to Pitana.5 Rare is the opportunity of so fair a death. After thy comrades laid thee upon the mournful bier, these words did thy stout-hearted sire pronounce: Weep ye for others: a son needs not any tears, being mine, so glorious, and a Spartan.

A Spartan mother slinging her son's shield, Return with this, said she, or upon it.

A fellow, purse-proud and swollen-headed, high born in words alone, scorns the illustrious names of the current age, hankering after an ancient pedigree and claiming Mars, Remus, and Romulus our founder as his own special forebears. Their figures he bids be woven in his silken robes, theirs he chases on his massy plate, or paints in encaustic on his threshold and on the ceiling of his halls. True for him! For his father was not known and his mother surely is a bitch.

I AM the first discoverer of the Cynic rule. How can that be? Men say Alcides 1 long preceded thee. Once 1 was second with Alcides for my master; now I am the first Cynic and he a god.

NONE had a better pupil or a better master in virtue and the Cynic lore. He knows that I speak truth who knows each of the two. Alcides the god and Diogenes the dog (Cynic).

THE sons of Ogyges 1 call me Bacchus, Egyptians think me Osiris, Mysians name me Phanaces, Indians regard me as Dionysus, Roman rites make me Liber, the Arab race thinks me Adoneus, Lucaniacus 2 the Universal God.

I AM Osiris of the Egyptians, Phanaces of the Mysians, Bacchus among the living, Adoneus among the dead, Fire-born, Twy-horned, Titan-slayer. Dionysus.

AGOAT, a ram, a wallet, a shepherd with his staff, an olive-tree, all in a monolith make up lithe 3 Corydon.

I, LESBIAN Sappho, adopted sister of the Muses, am ninth of the lyrists, 5 tenth of the Aonides.

RISEN from the firth, received by earth, Heaven's child by birth, mother of Aeneas' line, I, kindly Venus, here do dwell.

LET the proud Orient extol its Achaemenian looms: weave in thy robes, O Greece, soft threads of gold; but let fame equally renown Ausonian Sabina who, shunning their costliness, matches their skill.

WHETHER thou dost admire robes woven in Tyrian looms, or lovest a motto neatly traced, my mistress with her charming skill combines the twain: one hand—Sabina's—practises these twin arts.

SOME weave yarn and some weave verse: these of their verse make tribute to the Muses, those of their yarn to thee, O chaste Minerva. Put I, Sabina, will not divorce mated arts, who on my own webs have inscribed my verse.

HER I would have who will not, and her, who will, I would not: Venus would vanquish, not satisfy, the heart. Charms offered me I scorn, depreciate those denied: I would neither sate my heart nor torture it. Neither twice-girt Dian pleases, nor nude Cythere: the one gives no delight, the other overmuch. Be mine a mistress skilfully to display the art of attempered love, who can unite what I would, I would not mean. 3

CHRESTUS and Acindynus, own brothers but hapless children, bear names which belie their unhappy qualities: neither this one is Gracious, nor this Riskless. One letter can correct them both. If Chrestus should borrow alpha ("-less"), from his brother Acindynus, one will become Risk and his brother will be Graceless.

THESE are two own brothers, Chrestus and Acindynus. Both have been wrongly named: but that both may be set right, let Acindynus give his alpha to Chrestus, himself remaining without alpha; each will be an appropriate name.

TRIS uno in lecto: stuprum duo perpetiuntur, et duo committunt. Quattuor esse reor. Falleris: extremis da singula crimina et illum bis numera medium, qui facit et patitur.

He who thinks he can say reminisco and speak Latin, would put cot where co is written, if he had any sense.

RUFUS the rhetorician, being once invited to a wedding—a thing oft done at crowded festivals-— to show his skill in grammar, expressed these wishes for the wedded pair: May ye get sons of gender masculine, feminine and neuter.

GLAD youth verging upon thy sixteenth year already was encircling thy soft cheeks' with down, young Glaucias. And already thou hadst ceased to seem boy or maid indifferently when the day came too hurriedly and bare off all thy comeliness. Yet neither shalt thou join company with the common throng of dead, nor shalt thou, a piteous shade, dread the Stygian pools, but thou shalt go thither as Persephone's Adorns, the son of Cinyras, or thou shalt be the Ganymede of Elysian Jove.

I USED to live: I became stone, and then being polished by the hand of Praxiteles, I now live again as Niobe. The artist's hand has restored me all but sense: that, when I offended gods, I had not.

AT Lacedaemon Pallas saw Venus armed. Now, quoth she, let us contend, even with Paris for judge. Venus replied: When I am armed, rash maid, dost thou despise me, seeing that when I conquered thee I was bare?

I, LAÏS, grown old, to Venus dedicate my mirror: let eternal beauty have the eternal service which befits it. But for me there is no profit in this, for to behold myself such as I am I would not, such as I was I cannot.

THOSE whom thou seest springing from a triple egg, declare their ancestry doubtful on either side. These Nemesis conceived, but pregnant Leda bare them in her womb; Tyndareus to them was father and Juppiter: the one believes he is, the other knows.2

THE real Venus, when she saw the Cnidian Cypris, said: Methinks, Praxiteles, thou hast seen me unclad. I have not seen thee, 'twould be sin: but 'tis with steel I finish every work. Steel is at the disposal of Mars Gradivus. Therefore my steel chisel has fashioned a goddess such as the Cythera whom it knew to have pleased its lord.

I AM a heifer, wrought in bronze by the chisel of Myron my creator: nay, I think I was not wrought but born, so does the bull make for me, so does the heifer by my side low, so the calf athirst seeks my udders. Dost wonder that the herd mistakes me? The master of the herd himself oft reekons me with his grazing beasts.

WHY thrustest thou at the cold udders of a brazen dam, O calf, and seedkest milky liquid from bronze? That also would 1 supply had Heaven made me within as Myron without.

DAEDALUS, why wastest thou pains in idle craft? Rather expose me with Pasiphae enclosed within. If thou wouldst offer the allurement of a real cow, Myron's shall be for thee a living image.

Myron's brazen heifer could low aloud, but fears to spoil the artist's craftsmanship. For to make me seem alive is more than to make me live; and not the works of God are wondrous, but the artist's.1

I had stood here a brazen heifer; a cow was slaughtered to Minerva; but the goddess transferred to me the life breathed forth. And now I am twofold: part is brazen, part alive. This is ascribed to the artist's skill, that to the goddess.

WHY seekest thou to make for me, lord of the herd, beguiled by appearance? I am no contrivance of Pasiphae, Minos' wife.

ERE the sinking sun was set, evening now drawing on, the neatherd, while he drove his heifers home, left one of his own and chid me as though one of his.

A NEATHERD chanced to have lost a single heifer, and, bidden to deliver up the tale, complained that I was missing because I would not follow the others home.

AT VALLEBANA 1 (a thing strange and scarce credible in a poet, but which is taken from a truthful tale) a male bird changed into female form, and an erstwhile peacock stood a peahen before men's eyes. All marvelled at the portent; but a girl softer than any lamb spake thus with maiden voice: Fools, why so amazed to see a thing strange yet not unknown? Or do ye not read Naso's verse? Consus, old Saturn's son, changed Caenis to a boy and Tiresias was not always of one sex. The fount Salmacis saw Hermaphro'ditus the half-man 2: Pliny 3 saw a man-woman in the act. Nor is the tale yet old that in Campanian Beneventum a certain lad suddenly became a maid. Vet I would not cite you instances of old report: lo, I was changed from boy to girl.

PYTHAGORAS, Euphorbus' son, thou who dost renew the seeds of nature and to fresh bodies dost assign souls brought back to earth, say, what will Mareus be who has now felt fate's final stroke, if he return again to live in our air? Who is Marcus? One lately known as seducer and kidnapper, who has debauched the entire sex, an unnatural scoundrel, or, as the bard Lucilius says, a pilfering paederast. No bull, no mule, no hippocamel shall he be, no goat or ram, but he shall be a scarabaeus. 1

Lambere cum vellet mediorum membra virorum Castor nec posset vulgus habere domi, repperit, ut nullum fellator perderet inguen: uxoris coepit lingere membra suae.

PRAETER legitimi genialia foedera coetus repperit obscenas veneres vitiosa libido: Herculis heredi quam Lemnia suasit egestas, quam toga facundi scaenis agitavit Afrani et quam Nolanis capitalis luxus inussit. Crispa tamen cunetas exercet corpore in uno: deglubit, fellat, molitur per utramque cavernam, ne quid inexpertum frustra moritura relinquat.

WHEN Marcus was sick, Diodorus the soothsayer told him that no more than six days of life remained. But the doctor, Alcon, more potent than the gods and fates, straightway proved the divination false and touched his patient's hand who might have lived had he not touched; for straightway Marcus' six days came to an end.

YESTERDAY Alcon touched Jove's statue. He, though of marble, felt the doctor's influence. To-day, Io, he is being carried off, bidden to be removed from his ancient place, for all he is a god and made of stone.

EUNUS, why dost thou seek to win Phyllis, the scent-seller? Diceris hanc mediam lambere, non moiere. Look that the names of her wares do not deceive thee, or that thou beest not deceived by the scent of Seplasia,1 while you think rank and fragrant smell alike and that spikenard and stockfish have the same savour.

UNHAPPY Eunus tastes and smells things much unlike: his nose has one sense, his tongue another.

SMELL NEITHER SWEET NOR RANK PICKLES are one thing, balsam another: away with scents! Neither to smell rank nor to smell sweet pleases me.

LAIS, Eros, and Itys. Chiron and Eros, Itys again, these names write down and take their initials, that thou mayest form a word describing what thou dost, schoolmaster Eunus. To name the infamy in Latin becomes me not.

EUNE, quod uxoris gravidae putria inguina Iambis, festinas glossas non natis tradere natis.

EUNUS Syriscus, inguinum ligurritor. opicus magister (sic enim docet Phyllis) muliebre membrum quadrangulum cernit: triquetro coacto.Δ. litteram ducit, de valle femorum altrinsecus pares rugas mediumque, fissi rima qua patet, callem.Ψ. dicit esse: nam trifissilis forma est. cui ipse linguam cum dedit suam..Λ. est:

veramque in illis esse.Φ. notam sentit, quid, imperite,.P. putas ibi scriptum, ubi locare.1. convenit longum? miselle doctor,.S. tibi sit obsceno, tuumque nomen.Θ. sectilis signet.

SOME say that thou art deformed, Crispa: that I know not: for me thou art fair, 'tis enough since Ι am judge. Nay more, I long—for jealousy is yoked with love—that thou mayest seem to others ugly, comely to me alone.

FAIN would I have such a mistress as may lightly start a quarrel, nor be careful to speak as if an honest woman: pretty, saucy, hasty of hand, one to take blows and return them, and, if beaten, to take refuge in kisses. For if she be not of this character, but live chaste, subdued, shamefastly—I shudder to say it—she will be a wife.

THIS thing which they call love bring to an end or spread evenly, Cupid: either burn neither with thy flame or burn both.

EITHER put out this fire wherein I burn, sweet Dione, or bid it pass over from me, or make it equal on both sides.

A LAWYER who had a faithless wife approved of the Papian statute1 but disapproved of the Julian.2 Do ye ask why this difference? Effeminate himself, tearing the Scantinian, 3 he feared not the Titian Law.4

INGUINA quod calido levas tibi dropace, causa est: irritant volsas levia membra lupas. sed quod et elixo plantaria podiee vellis et teris incusas pumice Clazomenas, causa latet: bimarem nisi quod patientia morbum adpetit et tergo femina, pube vir es.

EFFEMINATE thyself, Zoïlus, thou hast wedded an unchaste wife: how great a profit will ye twain earn at home, when thy debaucher pays thy wife, and her lover thee, the fees of shame! But lust, which now seems to you profitable, will soon, as age creeps on, cause loss: lovers will begin to sell you their services for pay, whom prostituted youth now makes your customers.

HYLAS, the boxer, with Phegeus, skilled in wrestling, and Lyeus, famous on the Olympian track, asked Ammon at his Libyan shrine 1 whether they;all would win at the approaching games. Put the god (so wise was he) replied: if Victory shall be assured you, if only ye take heed that none excel Hylas with the gloves, Phegeus in clinching, and thee, Lycus, in speed of foot.

A CRIMSON girdle bound Hermione's swelling breasts: and on the girdle this couplet was embrodered: Thou who dost read this inscription, know that the Paphian commands thee to love me, and by thy conduct to forbid none to love.

BEHOLD with how sweet and proud a death is fair Hylas blessed, tasting of joys that bring destruction! Doomed to perish amid kisses and fatal love, 'twere hard to say whether Naiads or Eumenides so afflict him.

YE rave, ye wanton Nymphs, with love as cruel as 'tis fruitless. That lad shall be a flower.

WERT thou to desire another, Narcissus, then mightest thou win him. Of love thou hast abundance; 'tis the enjoyment fails.

WHAT would a lover not surfer through the beauty of this youth who thus pines away for his own reflection?

ALONG with thee, Narcissus, dies resounding Echo, her spirit passing with the last tones of thy voice: both while thou wert pining away, thy sighs she has hitherto answered with her plaints, and now also when she loves the latest words of thy voice.

BY Mercury begotten, conceived by Cythera, Hermaphroditus, compound alike in name and frame, combining either sex, complete in neither, neutral in love, unable to enjoy either passion.

THE nymph Salmacis grew one with the mate she desired. Ah, happy maid, if she is conscious of a man's embrace. And twice happy thou, O youth, united with a lovely bride, if one being may still be two.

PUT by thy bow, Paean, and hide thy swift arrows: not thee the maid flees, but fears thy shafts.

TOO envious bark, why hastest thou to overlap the maid? Laurel is Phoebus' due, if the damsel is denied.

WHOE'ER has seen Polygiton in a tub at the baths chafing the caked and rotting ulcers on his limbs, ranks such a sight above every comic show. First, he makes the air ring with his quavering howls, yells words suggestive of a brothel and sounds the full gamut of impurity. Next, he whirls his arms like a Maenad possessed by some spirit, while the itch strays at random, now in this part now in that, over his breast, legs, flanks, belly, thighs, loins and calves, his back, neck, shoulders, and his hinder parts. At length he droops with the heat of his scalding bath, and kind exhaustion makes him relax in a death-like swoon. Just as they say that men emasculate, when vain desire attacks them, exhaust themselves without fruition, mocked by pleasure unachieved; even so Polygiton relaxes his nerveless limbs. And, since at the last he must expiate his life, let him now make ready for the waters of Phlegethon.

THAT Silvius Good who attacks my verse, has the more fully earned my lampoon, being a good Briton.1

THIS is Silvius 'Good.' Who is Silvius? He is a Briton. Either this Silvius is no Briton, or he is Silvius ' Bad.'

SILVIUS is called Good and called a Briton: who would believe a good citizen had sunk so low?

NO good man is a Briton. If he should begin to be plain Silvius, let the plain man cease to be good.

THIS is Silvius Good, but the same Silvius is a Briton: a plainer thing—believe me—is a bad Briton.

THOU Silvius art Good, a Briton: yet 'tis said thou art no good man, nor can a Briton link himself with Good.