Acon his right, Leonilla her left eye
Doth want; yet each in form, the gods out-vie.
Sweet boy, with thine, thy sister's sight improved:
So shall she Venus be, thou God of Love.
[Lat., Lumine Acon dextre,--capta est Leonilla sinistre,
Et potis est forma vincere uterque dees:
Blande puer, lumen quod habes concede sorori,
Sic tu caecus Amor, sic erit illa Venus.]
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The diamond's virtues well might grace
The epigram, and both excel
In brilliancy in smallest space,
read more
The diamond's virtues well might grace
The epigram, and both excel
In brilliancy in smallest space,
And power to cut as well.
Since your legs, Phoebus, resemble the horns of the moon, you
might bathe your feet in a cornucopia.
Since your legs, Phoebus, resemble the horns of the moon, you
might bathe your feet in a cornucopia.
I could do without your face, and your neck, and your hands, and
your limbs, and your bosom, and read more
I could do without your face, and your neck, and your hands, and
your limbs, and your bosom, and other of your charms. Indeed,
not to fatigue myself with enumerating each of them, I could do
without you, Chloe, altogether.
Some learned writers . . . have compared a Scorpion to an Epigram
. . . because as the read more
Some learned writers . . . have compared a Scorpion to an Epigram
. . . because as the sting of the Scorpion lyeth in the tayl, so
the force and virtue of an epigram is in the conclusion.
Unlike my subject, I will make my song.
It shall be witty, and it shan't be long.
Unlike my subject, I will make my song.
It shall be witty, and it shan't be long.
When to secure your bald pate from the weather,
You lately wore a cape of black neats' leather;
read more
When to secure your bald pate from the weather,
You lately wore a cape of black neats' leather;
He was a very wag, who to you said,
"Why do you wear your slippers on your head?"
The book which you are reading aloud is mine, Fidentinus; but,
while you read it so badly, it begins read more
The book which you are reading aloud is mine, Fidentinus; but,
while you read it so badly, it begins to be yours.
What's this that myrrh doth still smell in thy kiss,
And that with thee no other odour is?
read more
What's this that myrrh doth still smell in thy kiss,
And that with thee no other odour is?
'Tis doubt, my Postumus, he that doth smell
So sweetly always, smells not very well.
Never think of leaving perfumes or wine to your heir. Administer
these yourself, and let him have your money.
Never think of leaving perfumes or wine to your heir. Administer
these yourself, and let him have your money.
