Book VII, Epigram 72 (Ker)

So may December be pleasant to you, Paulus, and no worthless three-leaved tablets and scant)' napkins come to you, nor light half-pounds of frankincense; but may either some hulking defendant or wealthy friend bring you dishes and antique goblets; or — what pleases and attracts you more — so may you beat Novius and Publius hemmed in by your pawns and glass robbers; so may the oiled ring's3 favourable judgment award you victory over the thin-clad hand-ball players, and not praise more than yours the left-handers of Polybus — if some malignant fellow claim as mine poems that are steeped in black venom, do you lend me a patron's voice, and with all your strength and without stop-ping shout: "My Martial did not write that."