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.

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?"

Do you wonder for what reason, Theodorus, notwithstanding your
frequent requests and importunities, I have never presented you
read more

Do you wonder for what reason, Theodorus, notwithstanding your
frequent requests and importunities, I have never presented you
with my works? I have an excellent reason; it is lest you should
present me with yours.

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.

You ask for lively epigrams, and propose lifeless subjects. What
can I do, Caecilianus? You expect Hyblaen or Hymethian read more

You ask for lively epigrams, and propose lifeless subjects. What
can I do, Caecilianus? You expect Hyblaen or Hymethian honey to
be produced, and yet offer the Attic bee nothing but Corsican
thyme?

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.

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.

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.

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.]