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Thou art so witty, profligate and thin,
At once we think thee Satan, Death and Sin.
Thou art so witty, profligate and thin,
At once we think thee Satan, Death and Sin.
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.
See how the mountain goat hangs from the summit of the cliff; you
would expect it to fall; it read more
See how the mountain goat hangs from the summit of the cliff; you
would expect it to fall; it is merely showing its contempt for
the dogs.
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?"
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.
And have you been able, Flaccus, to see the slender Thais? Then,
Flaccus, I suspect you can see what read more
And have you been able, Flaccus, to see the slender Thais? Then,
Flaccus, I suspect you can see what is invisible.
You were constantly, Matho, a guest at my villa at Tivoli. Now
you buy it--I have deceived you; I read more
You were constantly, Matho, a guest at my villa at Tivoli. Now
you buy it--I have deceived you; I have merely sold you what was
already your own.
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.
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.