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Reply to: Classical Wit

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Previously on "Classical Wit"

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  • Gibbon
    replied
    Originally posted by TimberWolf View Post
    Who? Menelaus?
    Trimalchio.

    Leave a comment:


  • thunderlizard
    replied
    Aye,
    Though the concept of a "dream job" is something of an oxymoron, Petronius Arbiter came closest.

    Leave a comment:


  • TimberWolf
    replied
    Originally posted by Gibbon View Post
    He was made up.
    Who? Menelaus?

    Leave a comment:


  • Gibbon
    replied
    Originally posted by TimberWolf View Post
    He must have been rich.
    He was made up.

    Leave a comment:


  • TimberWolf
    replied
    Originally posted by OwlHoot View Post
    He'd fit right in at one of Trimalchio's dinners.
    Menelaus, assistant to Agamemnon, tells them that they will be dining with this man and this is this beginning of the dinner - Trimalchio calls for the silver pissing bottle and wipes his hands on the eunuchs head to start the dinner!
    He must have been rich.

    Leave a comment:


  • Gibbon
    replied
    Originally posted by Old Greg View Post
    I prefer Aristophanes.
    I tend towards Aeschylus. Aristophones got it wrong with Socrates.

    As an aside Socrates was one of the two ancients whose thought has had the biggest impact on the western world yet, neither wrote a word.......

    Leave a comment:


  • OwlHoot
    replied
    Originally posted by DimPrawn View Post

    Wow. You get many invites to parties?
    He'd fit right in at one of Trimalchio's dinners.

    Leave a comment:


  • Gibbon
    replied
    Originally posted by DimPrawn View Post
    Wow. You get many invites to parties?
    Not gobal warming ones.

    Leave a comment:


  • Old Greg
    replied
    I prefer Aristophanes.

    Leave a comment:


  • TimberWolf
    replied
    Just goes to show that the oldies aren't always the goldies.

    Leave a comment:


  • DimPrawn
    replied
    Wow. You get many invites to parties?

    Leave a comment:


  • Gibbon
    started a topic Classical Wit

    Classical Wit

    Martial

    Selected Epigrams


    De Spectaculis:6 On display

    Pasiphae really was mated to that Cretan bull:
    believe it: we’ve seen it, the old story’s true.
    old antiquity needn’t pride itself so, Caesar:
    whatever legend sings, the arena offers you.

    Book I:77 Charinus, exhausted

    He’s quite well, Charinus, still he’s pale.
    Hardly drinks, Charinus, still he’s pale.
    A fine digestion too, Charinus, still he’s pale.
    He takes the sun, Charinus, still he’s pale.
    He dyes his skin, Charinus, still he’s pale.
    Eats pussy, yet, Charinus, still he’s pale.

    Book II:38 A fine view

    You ask what I see in my farm near Nomentum, Linus?
    What I see in it, Linus, is: from there I can’t see you.

    Book II:87 Amazing

    You say pretty girls burn with love for you, Sextus,
    with your face too, like a man swimming underwater.

    Book III:26 Possession

    Only you have land, then, Candidus,
    Gold plate, cash, and porcelain, only you,
    Massic or Caecuban wine of famous vintage,
    only you judgement and wit, only you.
    You have it all – well say I don’t deny it –
    But everyone has your wife, along with you.

    Book III:53 Sorry Chloe (you’re dumped)

    Chloe, I could live without your face,
    without your neck, and hands, and legs
    without your breasts, and ass, and hips,
    and Chloe, not to labour over details,
    I could live without the whole of you.

    Book V:58 Carpe diem

    Postumus, tomorrow you’ll live, tomorrow you say.
    When is it coming, tell me, that tomorrow?
    How far off, and where, and how will you find it?
    In Armenia, or Parthia, is it concealed then?
    Your tomorrow’s as old as Nestor or Priam.
    How much would it cost you, tell me, to buy?
    Tomorrow? It’s already too late to live today:
    He who lived yesterday, Postumus, he is wise.

    Book V:81 It’s a law

    Aemilianus, you’ll always be poor if you’re poor.
    These days they only give wealth to the rich.

    Book VII:14 True loss

    Aulus, atrocious tragedy’s struck my girl;
    she’s lost her plaything and her fond delight:
    not such as Catullus’ tender mistress wept for
    his Lesbia, bereft of worthless sparrow,
    nor, sung by Stella, his Ianthis grieves for,
    whose black dove wings it through Elysium:
    She’s not won by such loves, such nonsense,
    mea lux: they don’t stir my lady’s heart:
    she’s lost a slave boy hardly twelve years old,
    his member not yet eighteen inches long.

    Book XIV: Us pipes

    The tipsy flute-girl blows us with moistened cheeks:
    sometimes she blows just one, often both together.

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