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.]

You were constantly, Matho, a guest at my villa at Tivoli. Now
you buy it--I have deceived you; I read more

You were constantly, Matho, a guest at my villa at Tivoli. Now
you buy it--I have deceived you; I have merely sold you what was
already your own.

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.

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.

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.

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?"

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.

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.