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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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
"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.
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.
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.