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.

You complain, Velox, that the epigrams which I write are long.
You yourself write nothing; your attempts are shorter.

You complain, Velox, that the epigrams which I write are long.
You yourself write nothing; your attempts are shorter.

Report says that you, Fidentinus, recite my compositions in
public as if they were your own. If you allow read more

Report says that you, Fidentinus, recite my compositions in
public as if they were your own. If you allow them to be called
mine, I will send you my verses gratis; if you wish them to be
called yours, pray buy them, that they may be mine no longer.

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.

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 are pretty,--we know it; and young,--it is true; and rich,--
who can deny it? But when you praise yourself read more

You are pretty,--we know it; and young,--it is true; and rich,--
who can deny it? But when you praise yourself extravagantly,
Fabulla, you appear neither rich, nor pretty, nor young.

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.

Sir Drake whom well the world's end knew
Which thou did'st compass round,
And whom both Poles read more

Sir Drake whom well the world's end knew
Which thou did'st compass round,
And whom both Poles of heaven once saw
Which North and South do bound,
The stars above would make thee known,
If men here silent were;
The sun himself cannot forget
His fellow traveller.

This picture, plac'd the busts between
Gives Satire all its strength;
Wisdom and Wit are little seen
read more

This picture, plac'd the busts between
Gives Satire all its strength;
Wisdom and Wit are little seen
While Folly glares at length.