Away with you, water, destruction of wine!
To whom do I give my new elegant little book? Cui dono lepidum novum libellum?
The vows that woman makes to her fond lover are only fit to be written on air or on the swiftly passing stream.
Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred, then a thousand more.
Stop wishing to merit anyone's gratitude or thinking that anyone can become grateful.
Oh, this age! How tasteless and ill bred it is!