Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, EPIGRAM: 101, by MARCUS VALERIUS MARTIALIS



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EPIGRAM: 101, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Tonight, grave sir, both my poor house and I
Last Line: The liberty that we'll enjoy to-night.
Alternate Author Name(s): Martial
Variant Title(s): Ben Invites A Friend To Supper;inviting A Friend To Supper
Subject(s): Hospitality


TO-NIGHT, grave sir, both my poor house and I
Do equally desire your company:
Not that we think us worthy such a guest,
But that your worth will dignify our feast,
With those that come; whose grace may make that seem
Something, which else, could hope for no esteem.
It is the fair acceptance, sir, creates
The entertainment perfect, not the cates.
Yet shall you have, to rectify your palate,
An olive, capers, or some better salad
Ushering the mutton, with short-legged hen
If we can get her, full of eggs, and then
Lemons, and wine for sauce; to these, a coney
Is not to be despaired of for our money;
And though fowl now be scarce, yet there are clerks,
The sky not falling, think we may have larks.
I'll tell you of more, and lie, so you will come:
Of partridge, pheasant, woodcock, of which some
May yet be there; and godwit if we can,
Knat, rail and ruff too. Howsoe'er, my man
Shall read a piece of Virgil, Tacitus,
Livy, or of some better book to us,
Of which we'll speak our minds, amidst our meat
And I'll profess no verses to repeat:
To this if aught appear, which I not know of,
That will the pastry, not the paper, show of.
Digestive cheese and fruit there sure will be,
But that which most doth take my Muse and me,
Is a pure cup of rich Canary wine,
Which is the Mermaid's now, but shall be mine:
Of which had Horace or Anacreon tasted,
Their lives, as do their lines, till now had lasted.
Tobacco, nectar, or the Thespian spring,
Are all but Luther's beer, to this I sing.
Of this we will sup free, but moderately,
And we will have no Pooly or Parrot by;
Nor shall our cups make any guilty men
But, at our parting, we will be as when
We innocently met. No simple word.
That shall be uttered at our mirthful board,
Shall make us sad next morning: or affright
The liberty that we'll enjoy to-night.





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