Social Commentaries
Book IX, Epigram 92 (Ker)
Translated by Walter C. A. Ker (1919–20) · From Epigrams (Loeb, 1919–20)
What are a master's ills, what a slave's blessings you do not know, Condylus, who groan that you are so long a slave. Your common rush-mat affords you sleep untroubled; wakeful all night on down, see, Gaius lies! Gaius from early morn salutes trembling many masters; but you, Condylus, not even your master. "VVhat you owe, Gaius, pay," says Phoebus, and after him Cinnamus: this no one, Condylus, says to you. Do you dread the torturer.'' By gout in foot and hand Gaius is stabbed, and would choose instead to endure a thousand blows. You do not vomit in the morning, nor are you given to filthy vice, Condylus: do you not prefer this to being your Gaius three times over .''
This translation is printed as prose in its source edition.
Cite this poem
MLA
Martial. “Book IX, Epigram 92 (Ker).” Translated by Walter C. A. Ker. Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/martial/1154/.
Chicago
Martial. “Book IX, Epigram 92 (Ker).” Translated by Walter C. A. Ker. Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/martial/1154/.
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