Book VI, Epigram 82 (Ker)

A certain person, Rufus, lately looked me up and down carefully, just as if he were a purchaser of slaves or a trainer of gladiators, and when he had furtively observed me and pointed me out: "Are you, are you," he said, "that Martial, whose naughty jests everyone knows who at least has not a barbarous ear?" I smiled quietly, and with a slight bow, did not deny I was the person mentioned. "Why, then," said he, "do you wear a bad cloak?" I replied: "Because I am a bad poet." That this may not happen too often to a poet, send me, Rufus, a good cloak.