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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 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.
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?
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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.
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.
You complain, Velox, that the epigrams which I write are long.
You yourself write nothing; your attempts are shorter.
You complain, Velox, that the epigrams which I write are long.
You yourself write nothing; your attempts are shorter.
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.
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.
The diamond's virtues well might grace
The epigram, and both excel
In brilliancy in smallest space,
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The diamond's virtues well might grace
The epigram, and both excel
In brilliancy in smallest space,
And power to cut as well.