Short Poems

His cloak is brand-new, the best Tyrian hue,
He has got a good bargain I know.
" Was it cheap?" do you say? Well, of course, he won't pay,
And what is ten thousand — to owe?

H YLAS , one quarter of his eyesight gone,
Proposed to pay three quarters of your fee;
But now one eye is ruined, whereupon
He says he'll pay you half: if you agree,
Close with the offer quick ere worse befall,
Or soon, stone-blind, he will not pay at all.

Your skill, your eloquence, are vast indeed,
One word an hour suffices you — or less;
Yet for extended time you loudly plead:
How great your golden gift of speechlessness!

You spent so much on rings for many a fair one,
That now, a Knight no more, you may not wear one.

W HENE'ER he dines he's served on gold in state,
In town or out, in company, alone,
Aye at an inn! Has he no meaner plate?
No, he has none; for this not his own.

A SNAKE round Ammianus' cup doth twine,
Wrought there by Myron's art: i'faith, 'tis fit
His cup should bear a serpent as a sign
Of the vile poison that he drinks from it.

Once a Cilician rascal tried
To raid a garden: far and wide
He searched, but nothing he espied
Above the barren sod,
Except the stone Priapus, foe
To thieves, but he was loth to go
All empty-handed thence — and so
He stole the guardian god!

He courts you — of the fact you are aware;
He is a greedy rogue — you know that too;
And yet, poor fool, you name him as your heir,
Content the rascal should succeed to you!
" He sent fat gifts," you say; so anglers do;
But earn they gratitude from silly fish?
If you would have him mourn with sorrow true,
Then leave him nothing, you will have your wish.

Me kindly Rome loves, quotes my books, and buys them;
But till that critic feigning to despise them
Blushed and turned pale, then yawned and looked confounded,
I never felt my fame was surely grounded.

When nature's tresses you would imitate
By smearing unguents on your greasy pate,
At least the barber's toil and shears you save —
A sponge can give a clean and easy shave.