2.26: stringing along a greedy legacy-hunter

Naevia struggles to breathe. She has a hacking cough that sprays phlegm in your lap. And you think you're onto a sure thing? You've missed the point, Bithynicus: Naevia isn't dying, she's leading you on.

The greedy legacy-hunter, solicitously paying court to the elderly and sick (and childless) in the hopes of a generous bequest, is a fixture of Roman satire; Naevia knows exactly what Bithynicus is up to, and is milking the situation for all the attention and goodies she can squeeze out of him. The player, played.

2.60: coitus intersectus

You’re fucking the wife of a tribune, Hyllus my boy — a man who wears a sword to work. You think the worst that can happen is he’ll make you his bitch. I wouldn’t want to be you. There you’ll be, balls-deep, and he’ll lop it off. ‘But that’s against the law!’ Come again? What you’re up to, Hyllus — is that within the law?

2.25: Galla's a tease

You never put out, Galla; but when I ask, you always say you will. If you’re going to keep lying, Galla, I’ll start asking you to say ‘no’.

My fifth OUP blog post

http://blog.oup.com/2015/12/martial-epigrams-roman-food/

Martial 1.91: pushing back at a critic

You don’t publish your poems, Laelius, and still you pick at mine. Publish or stop picking.