Book VI, Epigram 39 (Ker)

You have been made, Cinna, by Marulla the father of seven — not children, for there is no son of yours, nor son of a friend or neighbour; but creatures conceived on truckle-beds and mats betray by their features their mother's adulteries. This one who struts with curly hair, a Moor, confesses he is the offspring of Santra the cook; but that other with flat nostrils, blubber lips is the very image of Pannichus the wrestler. Who is not aware, if he has known and seen blear-eyed Dama, that the third is the baker's son? The fourth, with his shameless brow, pallid face, was born to you from your minion Lygdus: use your son as you do him, if you wish; 'tis no crime. But this creature with pointed head, and long ears which move just as donkeys' ears are wont — who could deny he is the son of Cyrta the cretin? Two sisters — one is dark, the other red-haired — are the children of Crotus, fluter to the chorus, and of Carpus the bailiff. By now your troupe of slaves would have been made up of as many sons as Niobe's if Coresus and Dindymus had not been eunuchs.