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.

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 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.

"You are too free spoken," is your constant remark to me,
Choerilus. He who speaks against you, Choerilus, is read more

"You are too free spoken," is your constant remark to me,
Choerilus. He who speaks against you, Choerilus, is indeed a
free speaker.

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.

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?"

If you wish, Faustinus, a bath of boiling water to be reduced in
temperature,--a bath, such as scarcely Julianus read more

If you wish, Faustinus, a bath of boiling water to be reduced in
temperature,--a bath, such as scarcely Julianus could enter,--ask
the rhetorician Sabinaeus to bathe himself in it. He would
freeze the warm baths of Nero.

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.

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.