[Martial] Lib. XI. Epigr. XCV. Translated in Dialogue. Nahum Tate Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. Tate, Nahum, c. 1652-1715. Poems by N. Tate. London Printed by T.M. for Benj. Tooke ... 1677 pp. 85-86. [15],133p.

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[ Martial ] Lib. XI . Epigr. XCV . Translated in Dialogue . A. FRiend Giles and I had late â bloody bout . B. Eternal Cronies how cou'd you fall out ? A. Faith guess th'Occasion . B. Some fresh Doxie ? A. No , Fools as we are , we have more Sense than So . He that Asserts a modest Lady's Right , ( Tho soundly Drub'd ) is a true Errant Knight ; But Whelps are they , who for such Carrion Fight . B. When Toapt ( which he's of course some twice a Day ) He'l rail on's Grandsire's Beard if't come in's way ; Perhaps mis-call'd you then , gave you the Lye , Or in rude Language damn'd your Poetry . A. Had Lillye to resolve the Quaere try'd , Ev'n Lilly's self cou'd not have guest more wide ! Don Critick nere cou'd wound my thoughts so deep As to beguil me of one minutes sleep ; Censures I still despise as things of course , But th' damage I sustain by Giles is worse . The Rascal stole — B. Your Poems ? C. No , my Horse .