Marcus Valerius Martial

You give me back, Phoebus, my bond for four hundred thousand
sesterces; lend me rather a hundred thousand more. read more

You give me back, Phoebus, my bond for four hundred thousand
sesterces; lend me rather a hundred thousand more. Seek some one
else to whom you may vaunt your empty present: what I cannot pay
you, Phoebus, is my own.

My books need no one to accuse or judge you: the page which is
yours stands up against you read more

My books need no one to accuse or judge you: the page which is
yours stands up against you and says, "You are a thief."

You complain, Velox, that the epigrams which I write are long.
You yourself write nothing; your attempts are shorter.

You complain, Velox, that the epigrams which I write are long.
You yourself write nothing; your attempts are shorter.

You are pretty,--we know it; and young,--it is true; and rich,--
who can deny it? But when you praise yourself read more

You are pretty,--we know it; and young,--it is true; and rich,--
who can deny it? But when you praise yourself extravagantly,
Fabulla, you appear neither rich, nor pretty, nor young.

You put fine dishes on your table, Olus, but you always put them
on covered. This is ridiculous; in read more

You put fine dishes on your table, Olus, but you always put them
on covered. This is ridiculous; in the same way I could put fine
dished on my table.