Perlustrant, tales non vult mea mensa sodales.
Te non invito, tibi consimiles ego vito;
Me tamen invito potieris pane petito.
Ablue, terge, sede, prande, bibe, terge, recede.
In another similar epigram, the goliard complains of the bishop who had given him as his reward nothing but an old worn-out mantle. Most of the writers of the goliardic poetry complain of their poverty, and some of them admit that this poverty arose from the tavern and the love of gambling. One of them alleges as his claim to the liberality of his host, that, as he was a scholar, he had not learnt to labour, that his parents were knights, but he had no taste for fighting, and that, in a word, he preferred poetry to any occupation. Another speaks still more to the point, and complains that he is in danger of being obliged to sell his clothes. “If this garment of vair which I wear,” he says, “be sold for money, it will be a great disgrace to me; I would rather suffer a long fast. A bishop, who is the most generous of all generous men, gave me this cloak, and will have for it heaven, a greater reward than St. Martin has, who only gave half of his cloak. It is needful now that the poet’s want be relieved by your liberality [addressing his hearers]; let noble men give noble gifts—gold, and robes, and the like.”
Si vendatur propter denarium
Indumentum quod porto varium,
Grande mihi fiet opprobrium;
Malo diu pati jejunium.
Largissimus largorum omnium