George Gordon Noel Byron

His heart was one of those which most enamour us,
Wax to receive, and marble to retain.

His heart was one of those which most enamour us,
Wax to receive, and marble to retain.

And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but
The truth in masquerade.

And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but
The truth in masquerade.

Ye tuneful cobblers! still your notes prolong,
Compose at once a slipper and a song;
So shall read more

Ye tuneful cobblers! still your notes prolong,
Compose at once a slipper and a song;
So shall the fair your handiwork peruse,
Your sonnets sure shall please--perhaps your shoes.

So well she acted all and every part
By turns--with that vivacious versatility,
Which many people take read more

So well she acted all and every part
By turns--with that vivacious versatility,
Which many people take for want of heart.
They err--'tis merely what is call'd mobility,
A thing of temperament and not of art,
Though seeming so, from its supposed facility;
And false--though true; for surely they're sincerest
Who are strongly acted on by what is nearest.

I love the language, that soft bastard Latin,
Which melts like kisses from a female mouth.

I love the language, that soft bastard Latin,
Which melts like kisses from a female mouth.