The swan murmurs sweet strains with a flattering tongue, itself the singer of its own dirge.
Some good, some so-so, and lots plain bad: that's how a book of poems is made, my Friend.
Epigrams need no crier, but are content with their own tongue.
You are sad in the midst of every blessing. Take care that Fortune does not observe--or she will call you ungrateful.
Some are good, some are middling, the most are bad.
Do you ask why I am unwilling to marry a rich wife? It is because I am unwilling to be taken to husband by my wife. The mistress of the house should be subordinate to her husband, for in no other way, Priscus, will the wife and husband be on an equality.