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.

What is an epigram? a dwarfish whole,
Its body brevity, and wit its soul.

What is an epigram? a dwarfish whole,
Its body brevity, and wit its soul.

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.

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.]

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 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.

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.

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.

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.