You are a man of iron, Flaccus, if you can show amorous power for a woman, who values herself at no more than half a dozen jars of pickle, or a couple of slices of tunny fish, or a paltry sea-lizard; who does not think herself worth a bunch of raisins; who makes only one
of a red herring, which a servant maid fetches in an earthenware dish; or who, with a brazen face and lost to shame, lowers her demand to five skins for a cloak.
Martial - Book XI - Epigrams
