Marcus Valerius Martial

Since your legs, Phoebus, resemble the horns of the moon, you
might bathe your feet in a cornucopia.

Since your legs, Phoebus, resemble the horns of the moon, you
might bathe your feet in a cornucopia.

Where McGregor sits, there is the head of the table.

Where McGregor sits, there is the head of the table.

I could do without your face, and your neck, and your hands, and
your limbs, and your bosom, and read more

I could do without your face, and your neck, and your hands, and
your limbs, and your bosom, and other of your charms. Indeed,
not to fatigue myself with enumerating each of them, I could do
without you, Chloe, altogether.

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?"

To-morrow you will live, you always cry;
In what fair country does this morrow lie,
That 'tis read more

To-morrow you will live, you always cry;
In what fair country does this morrow lie,
That 'tis so mighty long ere it arrive?
Beyond the Indies does this morrow live?
'Tis so far-fetched, this morrow, that I fear
'Twill be both very old and very dear.
"To-morrow I will live," the fool does say:
To-day itself's too late;--the wise lived yesterday.