The qualities all in a bee that we meet,
In an epigram never should fail;
The body read more

The qualities all in a bee that we meet,
In an epigram never should fail;
The body should always be little and sweet,
And a sting should be felt in its tail.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Acon his right, Leonilla her left eye
Doth want; yet each in form, the gods out-vie.
Sweet read more

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.]

In whatever place you meet me, Postumus, you cry out immediately,
and your very first words are, "How do read more

In whatever place you meet me, Postumus, you cry out immediately,
and your very first words are, "How do you do?" You say this,
even if you meet me ten times in one single hour: you, Postumus,
have nothing, I suppose, to do.