Lucasta [89]
bina venena juvant.
IN ENGLISH.
Her jealous husband an adultresse gave Cold poysons, to[o] weak she thought for's grave; A fatal dose of quicksilver then she Mingles to hast his double destinie; Now whilst within themselves they are at strife, The deadly potion yields to that of life, And straight from th' hollow stomack both retreat To th' slippery pipes known to digested meat. Strange care o' th' gods the murth'resse doth avail! So, when fates please, ev'n double poysons heal.
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AUSONIUS EPIG.
Emptis quod libris tibi bibliotheca referta est, Doctum et grammaticum te, philomuse, putas. Quinetiam cytharas, chordas et barbita conde: Mercator hodie, cras citharoedus, eris.
IN ENGLISH.
Because with bought books, sir, your study's fraught, A learned grammarian you would fain be thought; Nay then, buy lutes and strings; so you may play The merchant now, the fidler, the next day.
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AVIENI<103.1> V. C. AD AMICOS.
Rure morans, quid agam, respondi, pauca rogatus: Mane, deum exoro famulos, post arvaque viso, Partitusque meis justos indico labores; Inde lego, Phoebumque cio, Musamque lacesso; Tunc oleo corpus fingo, mollique palaestra Stringo libens animo, gaudensque ac foenore liber Prandeo, poto, cano, ludo, lavo, caeno, quiesco.
ENGLISHED.
Ask'd in the country what I did, I said: I view my men and meads, first having pray'd; Then each of mine hath his just task outlay'd; I read, Apollo court, I rouse my Muse; Then I anoynt me, and stript willing loose My self on a soft plat, from us'ry blest; I dine, drink, sing, play, bath, I sup, I rest.
<103.1> Rufus Festus Avienus, the Latin poet.
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AD FABULLUM. CATUL. LIB. I. EP. 13.
Caenabis bene, mi Fabulle, apud me Paucis, si dii tibi favent, diebus; Si tecum attuleris bonam atque magnam Caenam, non sine candida puella, Et vino, et sale, et omnibus cachinnis. Haec si, inquam, attuleris, Fabulle noster, Caenabis bene: nam tui Catulli Plenus sacculus est aranearum. Sed, contra, accipies meros amores, Seu quod suavius elegantiusve est: Nam unguentum dabo, quod meae puellae Donarunt Veneres Cupidinesque; Quod tu cum olfacies, deos rogabis, Totum te faciant, Fabulle, nasum.
ENGLISHED.
Fabullus, I will treat you handsomely Shortly, if the kind gods will favour thee. If thou dost bring with thee a del'cate messe, An olio or so, a pretty lass, Brisk wine, sharp tales, all sorts of drollery, These if thou bringst (I say) along with thee, You shall feed highly, friend: for, know, the ebbs Of my lank purse are full of spiders webs; But then again you shall receive clear love, Or what more grateful or more sweet may prove: For with an ointment I will favour thee My Venus's and Cupids gave to me, Of which once smelt, the gods thou wilt implore, Fabullus, that they'd make thee nose all ore.
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MART. LIB. I. EPI. 14.
Casta suo gladium cum traderet Arria Paeto, Quem de visceribus traxerat ipsa suis; Si qua fides, vulnus quod feci non dolet, inquit: Sed quod tu facies, hoc mihi, Paete, dolet.
ENGLISHED.
When brave chast Arria to her Poetus gave The sword from her own breast did bleeding wave: If there be faith, this wound smarts not, said she; But what you'l make, ah, that will murder me.
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MART. EPI. XLIII. LIB. I.
Conjugis audisset fatum cum Portia Bruti, Et substracta sibi quaereret arma dolor, Nondum scitis, ait, mortem non posse negari, Credideram satis hoc vos docuisse patrem. Dixit, et ardentes avido bibit ore favillas. I nunc, et ferrum turba molesta nega.
IN ENGLISH.
When Portia her dear lord's sad fate did hear, And noble grief sought arms were hid from her: Know you not yet no hinderance of death is, Cato, I thought, enough had taught you this, So said, her thirsty lips drink flaming
IN ENGLISH.
Her jealous husband an adultresse gave Cold poysons, to[o] weak she thought for's grave; A fatal dose of quicksilver then she Mingles to hast his double destinie; Now whilst within themselves they are at strife, The deadly potion yields to that of life, And straight from th' hollow stomack both retreat To th' slippery pipes known to digested meat. Strange care o' th' gods the murth'resse doth avail! So, when fates please, ev'n double poysons heal.
<-------------------->
AUSONIUS EPIG.
Emptis quod libris tibi bibliotheca referta est, Doctum et grammaticum te, philomuse, putas. Quinetiam cytharas, chordas et barbita conde: Mercator hodie, cras citharoedus, eris.
IN ENGLISH.
Because with bought books, sir, your study's fraught, A learned grammarian you would fain be thought; Nay then, buy lutes and strings; so you may play The merchant now, the fidler, the next day.
<-------------------->
AVIENI<103.1> V. C. AD AMICOS.
Rure morans, quid agam, respondi, pauca rogatus: Mane, deum exoro famulos, post arvaque viso, Partitusque meis justos indico labores; Inde lego, Phoebumque cio, Musamque lacesso; Tunc oleo corpus fingo, mollique palaestra Stringo libens animo, gaudensque ac foenore liber Prandeo, poto, cano, ludo, lavo, caeno, quiesco.
ENGLISHED.
Ask'd in the country what I did, I said: I view my men and meads, first having pray'd; Then each of mine hath his just task outlay'd; I read, Apollo court, I rouse my Muse; Then I anoynt me, and stript willing loose My self on a soft plat, from us'ry blest; I dine, drink, sing, play, bath, I sup, I rest.
<103.1> Rufus Festus Avienus, the Latin poet.
<-------------------->
AD FABULLUM. CATUL. LIB. I. EP. 13.
Caenabis bene, mi Fabulle, apud me Paucis, si dii tibi favent, diebus; Si tecum attuleris bonam atque magnam Caenam, non sine candida puella, Et vino, et sale, et omnibus cachinnis. Haec si, inquam, attuleris, Fabulle noster, Caenabis bene: nam tui Catulli Plenus sacculus est aranearum. Sed, contra, accipies meros amores, Seu quod suavius elegantiusve est: Nam unguentum dabo, quod meae puellae Donarunt Veneres Cupidinesque; Quod tu cum olfacies, deos rogabis, Totum te faciant, Fabulle, nasum.
ENGLISHED.
Fabullus, I will treat you handsomely Shortly, if the kind gods will favour thee. If thou dost bring with thee a del'cate messe, An olio or so, a pretty lass, Brisk wine, sharp tales, all sorts of drollery, These if thou bringst (I say) along with thee, You shall feed highly, friend: for, know, the ebbs Of my lank purse are full of spiders webs; But then again you shall receive clear love, Or what more grateful or more sweet may prove: For with an ointment I will favour thee My Venus's and Cupids gave to me, Of which once smelt, the gods thou wilt implore, Fabullus, that they'd make thee nose all ore.
<-------------------->
MART. LIB. I. EPI. 14.
Casta suo gladium cum traderet Arria Paeto, Quem de visceribus traxerat ipsa suis; Si qua fides, vulnus quod feci non dolet, inquit: Sed quod tu facies, hoc mihi, Paete, dolet.
ENGLISHED.
When brave chast Arria to her Poetus gave The sword from her own breast did bleeding wave: If there be faith, this wound smarts not, said she; But what you'l make, ah, that will murder me.
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MART. EPI. XLIII. LIB. I.
Conjugis audisset fatum cum Portia Bruti, Et substracta sibi quaereret arma dolor, Nondum scitis, ait, mortem non posse negari, Credideram satis hoc vos docuisse patrem. Dixit, et ardentes avido bibit ore favillas. I nunc, et ferrum turba molesta nega.
IN ENGLISH.
When Portia her dear lord's sad fate did hear, And noble grief sought arms were hid from her: Know you not yet no hinderance of death is, Cato, I thought, enough had taught you this, So said, her thirsty lips drink flaming