80. The Connoisseur

When Eros weeps in blank despair
To see a cup of Myrrine ware,
Fair slaves, a citrus table-top,
The very pick of all the shop,
And groans for bitterness to spy them
Because, poor wretch, he cannot buy them,
You laugh and jeer to hear him sigh,
Good onlooker, whose eyes are dry!
Though envious tears your soul bedew,
Is he a greater fool than you?
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Martial
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