With cruel art Corinna would destroyThe ripening fruit of our repeated joy.While on herself she practises her skill,She's like the mother, not the child, to kill.Me she would not acquaint with what she did,From me a thing, which I abhorr'd, she hid;Well might I now be angry, but I fear,Ill as she is, I might endanger her.By me, I must confess, she did conceive,The fact is so, or else I so believe;We've cause to think, what may so likely be,So is, and then the babe belongs to meOh Isis, who delight'st to haunt the fields,Where fruitful Nile his golden harvest yields,Where with seven mouths into the sea it falls,And hast thy walks around Canope's walls,Who Memphis visit'st, and the Pharian tower,Assist Corinna with thy friendly powers.Thee by thy silver Sistra I conjure,A life so precious by thy aid secure;So mayst thou with Osiris still find grace:By Anubis's venerable face,I pray thee, so may still thy rights divineFlourish, and serpents round thy offerings twineMay Apis with his horns the pomp attend,And be to thee, as thou'rt to her, a friend.Look down, oh Isis! on the teeming fair,And make at once her life and mine thy care:Have pity on her pains; the help you giveTo her, her lover saves, in her I live.From thee this favour she deserves; she paysHer vows to thee on all thy solemn days;And when the Galli at thy altars wait,She's present at the feast they celebrate.And thou, Lucina, who the labouring wombDost with compassion view, to her assistance come:Nor dost thou, when to thee thy votaries prayFor speedy help, thy wanted help delay.Lucina, listen to Corinna's pray'r;Thy votary she, and worthy of thy care.I'll with my off'rings to thy altar come,With votive myrrh thy sacred fane perfume;The vows I make that thou my fair mayst bless,In words inscrib'd, I'll on thy shrine express:-"Ovid, the servant of Corinna, pray'dThe goddess here, the teeming dame to aid."Ah, goddess! of my humble suit allow;Give place to my inscription and my vow.If frighted as I am, I may presumeYour conduct to direct in time to come,Corinna, since you've suffer'd thus before,Ah, try the bold experiment no more!
Dum labefactat onus gravidi temeraria ventris,In dubio vitae lassa Corinna iacet.Illa quidem clam me tantum molita pericliIra digna mea; sed cadit ira metu.Sed tamen aut ex me conceperat — aut ego credo;Est mihi pro facto saepe, quod esse potest.Isi, Paraetonium genialiaque arva CanopiQuae colis et Memphin palmiferamque Pharon,Quaque celer Nilus lato delapsus in alveoPer septem portus in maris exit aquas,Per tua sistra precor, per Anubidis ora verendi —Sic tua sacra pius semper Osiris amet,Pigraque labatur circa donaria serpens,Et comes in pompa corniger Apis eat!Huc adhibe vultus, et in una parce duobus!Nam vitam dominae tu dabis, illa mihi.Saepe tibi sedit certis operata diebus,Qua cingit laurus Gallica turma tuas.Tuque laborantes utero miserata puellas,Quarum tarda latens corpora tendit onus,Lenis ades precibusque meis fave, Ilithyia!Digna est, quam iubeas muneris esse tui.Ipse ego tura dabo fumosis candidus aris,Ipse feram ante tuos munera vota pedes.Adiciam titulum: 'servata Naso Corinna!'Tu modo fac titulo muneribusque locum.Si tamen in tanto fas est monuisse timore,Hac tibi sit pugna dimicuisse satis!
What boots it that the fair are free from war,And what that they're forbid the shield to bear,Against themselves if they knew arms employAnd madly with new wounds their lives destroy?The cruel mother who did first contriveHer babe to butcher ere 'twas scarce alive,Who thus from nature's tender dictates swerv'd,To perish by her proper hands deserv'd.Why do the sex forget their softness? whySuch projects for a foolish fancy try?The belly must be smooth, no wrinkle thereTo shock the lover's wanton glance appear;His touch as well as sight they fain would please,And the womb early of its burden ease.Had woman sooner known this wicked trade,Among the race of men what havock had they made.Mankind had been extinct, and lost the seed,Without a wonder to restore the breed,As when Deucalion and his Purrha hurl'dThe stones that sow'd with men the delug'd world,Had Thetis, goddess of the sea, refus'dTo bear the burden, and her fruit abus'd,Who would have Priam's royal seat destroy'd?Or had the vestal whom fierce Mars enjoy'd,Stifled the twins within her pergnant womb,What founder would have then been born to Rome?Had Venus, when she with Aeneas teem'd,To death, ere born, Anchises' son condemn'd,The world had of the Caesars been depriv'd;Augustus ne'er had reign'd, nor Julius liv'd.And thou, whose beauty is the boast of fame,Hadst perish'd, had thy mother done the same;Nor had I liv'd love's faithful slave to be,Had my own mother dealt as ill by me.Ah, vile invention, ah, accurs'd design,To rob of rip'ning fruit the loaded vineAh, let it grow for nature's use mature,Ah, let it its full length of time endure;'Twill of itself, alas! too soon decay,And quickly fall, like autumn leaves, awayWhy barb'rously dost thou thy bowels tearTo kill the human load that quickens there?On venom'd drugs why venture, to destroyThe pledge of pleasure past, the promis'd boy?Medea, guilty of her childrens' blood,The mark of ev'ry age's curse has stood;And Atys, murder'd by his mothers rage,Been pitied since by each succeeding age;Thy cruel parents by false lords abus'd,Had yet some plea, tho' none their crime excus'd.What, Jason, did your dire revenge provoke?What, Tereus, urge you to the fatal stroke?What rage your reason led so far away,As furious hands upon yourself to lay?The tigresses that haunt th' Armenian wood,Will spare their proper young, though pinch'd for food;Nor will the Libyan lionesses slayTheir whelps,—but woman are more fierce than they;More barb'rous to the tender fruit they bear,Nor nature's call, tho' loud she cries, will hear.But righteous vengeance oft their crimes pursues,And they are lost themselves, who would theirchildren lose;The pois'nous drugs with mortal juices fillTheir veins, and, undesign'd, themselves they killThemselves upon the bier are breathless borne,With hair tied up that was in ringlets worn,Thro' weeping crowds that on their course attend;Well may they weep for their unhappy end.Forbid it, heaven, that what I say may provePresaging to the fair I blame and love;Thus let me ne'er, ye pow'rs, her death deplore,'Twas her first fault, and she'll offend no more;No pardon she'll deserve a second time,But, without mercy, punish then her crime.
Quid iuvat inmunes belli cessare puellas,Nec fera peltatas agmina velle sequi,Si sine Marte suis patiuntur vulnera telis,Et caecas armant in sua fata manus?Quae prima instituit teneros convellere fetus,Militia fuerat digna perire sua.Scilicet, ut careat rugarum crimine venter,Sternetur pugnae tristis harena tuae?Si mos antiquis placuisset matribus idem,Gens hominum vitio deperitura fuit,Quique iterum iaceret generis primordia nostriIn vacuo lapides orbe, parandus erat.Quis Priami fregisset opes, si numen aquarumIusta recusasset pondera ferre Thetis?Ilia si tumido geminos in ventre necasset,Casurus dominae conditor Urbis erat;Si Venus Aenean gravida temerasset in alvo,Caesaribus tellus orba futura fuit.Tu quoque, cum posses nasci formosa, perisses,Temptasset, quod tu, si tua mater opus;Ipse ego, cum fuerim melius periturus amando,Vidissem nullos matre negante dies.Quid plenam fraudas vitem crescentibus uvis,Pomaque crudeli vellis acerba manu?Sponte fluant matura sua — sine crescere nata;Est pretium parvae non leve vita morae.Vestra quid effoditis subiectis viscera telis,Et nondum natis dira venena datis?Colchida respersam puerorum sanguine culpantAque sua caesum matre queruntur Ityn;Utraque saeva parens, sed tristibus utraque causisIactura socii sanguinis ulta virum.Dicite, quis Tereus, quis vos inritet IasonFigere sollicita corpora vestra manu?Hoc neque in Armeniis tigres fecere latebris,Perdere nec fetus ausa leaena suos.At tenerae faciunt, sed non inpune, puellae;Saepe, suos utero quae necat, ipsa perit.Ipsa perit, ferturque rogo resoluta capillos,Et clamant 'merito!' qui modo cumque vident.Ista sed aetherias vanescant dicta per auras,Et sint ominibus pondera nulla meis!Di faciles, peccasse semel concedite tuto,Et satis est; poenam culpa secunda ferat!
Go, happy ring, who art about to bindThe fair one's finger; may the fair be kind.Small is the present, tho' the love be great;May she swift slip thee on thy taper seat.As she and I, may thou with her agree,And not too large, nor yet too little be.To touch her hand thou wilt the pleasure have;I now must envy what myself I gave.O! would a Proteus or a Circe changeMe to thy form, that I like thee might range!Then would I wish thee with her breasts to play,And her left hand beneath her robes to stray.Tho' straight she thought me, I will then appearLoose and unfix'd, and slip I know not where.Whene'er she writes some secret lines of love,Lest the dry gum and wax should sticking prove,He first she moistens: then sly care I take,And but, when lines I like, impression make.Of in her pocket fain she would me hide,Close will I press her finger, and not slide;Then cry, "My life, I ne'er shall thee disgrace,And I am light; give me my proper place.Still let me stick when in the bath you are;If I catch damage,'tis not worth your care.Yea, when the ring thy naked body spies,It will transform, and I a man arise."Why do I rave? thou little trifle, go,And that I die for her let the dear creature know.
Anule, formosae digitum vincture puellae,In quo censendum nil nisi dantis amor,Munus eas gratum! te laeta mente receptumProtinus articulis induat illa suis;Tam bene convenias, quam mecum convenit illi,Et digitum iusto commodus orbe teras!Felix, a domina tractaberis, anule, nostra;Invideo donis iam miser ipse meis.O utinam fieri subito mea munera possemArtibus Aeaeae Carpathiive senis!Tunc ego, cum cupiam dominae tetigisse papillasEt laevam tunicis inseruisse manum,Elabar digito quamvis angustus et haerens,Inque sinum mira laxus ab arte cadam.Idem ego, ut arcanas possim signare tabellas,Neve tenax ceram siccaque gemma trahat,Umida formosae tangam prius ora puellae —Tantum ne signem scripta dolenda mihi.Sit labor, ut condar loculis: exire negabo,Adstringens digitos orbe minore tuos.Non ego dedecori tibi sum, mea vita, futurus,Quodve tener digitus ferre recuset, onus.Me gere, cum calidis perfundes imbribus artus,Damnaque sub gemmam fer pereuntis aquae —Sed, puto, te nuda mea membra libidine surgent,Et peragam partes anulus ille viri.Inrita quid voveo? parvum proficiscere munus;Illa datam tecum sentiat esse fidem!
I'm now at—where my eyes can view,Their old delights, but what I want in you:Here purling streams cut thro' my pleasing bowr's,Adorn my banks, and raise my drooping flow'rs;Here trees with bending fruit in order stand,Invite my eye, and tempt my greedy hand;But half the pleasure of enjoyment's gone;Since I must pluck them single and alone;Why could not nature's kindness first contrive,That faithful lovers should like spirits live,Mix'd in one point and yet divided lie,Enjoying an united liberty?But since we must thro' distant regions go,Why was not the same way design'd for two?One single care determined still for both,And the kind virgin join'd the loving youth?Then should I think it pleasant way to goOe'r Alpine frost, and trace the hills of snow;Then should I dare to view the horrid moors,And walk the deserts of the Libyan shores;Hear Scylla bark, and see Charybdis rave,Suck in and vomit out the threat'ning wave;Fearless through all I'd steer my feeble barge,Secure, and safe with the celestial charge,But now, though here my grateful fields affordChoice fruits to cheer their malancholy lord;Though here obedient streams the gard'ner leads,In narrow channels through my flow'ry beds;The poplars rise, and spread a shady grove,Where I might lie, my little life improve,And spend my minutes 'twixt a muse and love:Yet these contributes little to my ease,For without you they lose the power to please;I seem to walk oe'r the fields of naked sand,Or tread an antic maze in fairy land,Where frightful specires, and pale shades appear,And hollow groans invade my troubled ear;Where ev'ry breeze that through my arbour flies,First sadly murmurs, and then turns to sighs.The vines love elms; what elms from vines remove?Then why should I be parted from my love?And yet by me you once devoutly swore,By your own eyes, those stars that I adore,That all my bus'ness you would make your own,And never suffer me to be alone:But faithless woman nat'rally deceives,Their frequent oaths are like the falling leaves,Which when a storm has from the branches toreAre lost by ev'ry blast, and seen no more:Yet if you will be true, your vows retrieve,Be kind, and I can easily forgive;Prepare your coach, to me direct your course,Drive fiercely on, and lash the lazy horse;And while you ride I will prolong the day,And try the power of verse to smooth your way.Sink down ye mountains, sink ye lofty hills,Ye vallies be obedient to her wheels,Ye streams be dry, ye hindr'ing woods remove,'Tis love that drives, and all must yield to love!
Pars me Sulmo tenet Paeligni tertia ruris —Parva, sed inriguis ora salubris aquis.Sol licet admoto tellurem sidere findat,Et micet Icarii stella proterva canis,Arva pererrantur Paeligna liquentibus undis,Et viret in tenero fertilis herba solo.Terra ferax Cereris multoque feracior uvis;Dat quoque baciferam Pallada rarus ager;Perque resurgentes rivis labentibus herbasGramineus madidam caespes obumbrat humum.At meus ignis abest. verbo peccavimus uno! —Quae movet ardores est procul; ardor adest.Non ego, si medius Polluce et Castore ponar,In caeli sine te parte fuisse velim.Solliciti iaceant terraque premantur iniqua,In longas orbem qui secuere vias! —Aut iuvenum comites iussissent ire puellas,Si fuit in longas terra secanda vias!Tum mihi, si premerem ventosas horridus Alpes,Dummodo cum domina, molle fuisset iter.Cum domina Libycas ausim perrumpere SyrtesEt dare non aequis vela ferenda Notis.Non quae virgineo portenta sub inguine latrant,Nec timeam vestros, curva Malea, sinus;Non quae submersis ratibus saturata CharybdisFundit et effusas ore receptat aquas.Quod si Neptuni ventosa potentia vincat,Et subventuros auferat unda deos,Tu nostris niveos umeris inpone lacertos;Corpore nos facili dulce feremus onus.Saepe petens Hero iuvenis transnaverat undas;Tum quoque transnasset, sed via caeca fuit.At sine te, quamvis operosi vitibus agriMe teneant, quamvis amnibus arva natent,Et vocet in rivos currentem rusticus undam,Frigidaque arboreas mulceat aura comas,Non ego Paelignos videor celebrare salubres,Non ego natalem, rura paterna, locum —Sed Scythiam Cilicasque feros viridesque Britannos,Quaeque Prometheo saxa cruore rubent.Ulmus amat vitem, vitis non deserit ulmum;Separor a domina cur ego saepe mea?At mihi te comitem iuraras usque futuram —Per me perque oculos, sidera nostra, tuos!Verba puellarum, foliis leviora caducis,Inrita, qua visum est, ventus et unda ferunt.Siqua mei tamen est in te pia cura relicti,Incipe pollicitis addere facta tuis,Parvaque quamprimum rapientibus esseda mannisIpsa per admissas concute lora iubas!At vos, qua veniet, tumidi, subsidite, montes,Et faciles curvis vallibus este, viae!
If there's a wretch, who thinks it is a shame,To serve a lovely and a loving dame:If such a slave he loads with infamy,I'm willing he should judge as hard of me;I'm willing all the world should know my shameIf Venus will abate my raging flame.Let me a fair and gentle mistress have,And then proclaim aloud that I'm her slave.Beauty is apt to swell a maiden's mind,And thus Corinna is to pride inclin'd:But as she is above all maiden's fair,What's pride in them is insolence in her;Less fair I wish she was, or knew it less;How learnt she, she is lovely by her face!Her mirror tells her so, she often triesHer mirror, and believes her charming eyes.The looks she then puts on, are still her best,And she ne'er uses it but when she's dress'd.Though wide the empire of your beauties spread,Beauty to draw my am'rous glances made:Compare your servant's merit with your eyes,You'll find no cause his service to dispise.Don't think I press upon your pride too hard.For little things may be with great compar'd:We're told Calypso, an immortal pow'r,Detain'd a mortal in th' Ogygian pow'r,And when her pray'r to stay he would not grant,So strong her love, she kept him by constraint.A Nereid took the Pythian to her arms.And Numa knew divine Egeria's charms.Vulcan though lame, and of a form obscene,Was oft made happy by the Paphian queen;She matter'd not his limping, but approv'dHis flame, and saw no faults in him she lov'dMy verses are unequal like his feet,Yet the long kindly with the shorter meet.As they with them, why shouldst thou not with meComply, my life and my divinity!Myself, when I am in thy arms, I'll ownThy subject, and the bed shall be thy throne;Thou there, my lovely queen, shall give me laws,Nor in my absence, to rejoice have cause,Nor ever shall my services be blam'dNor shalt thou of thy servant be asham'd.My poetry's my purse, my fortun's there,I have no other way to win the fair;Nor is that way the worst; the brightest damesWould in my verse immortalize their names.My muse the place of an estate supplies,And none that know her worth, her wealth despise.Some tempted by Corinna's spreading fame,In envy rob her, and usurp her name;What would they give, d'ye think, to be the same?But neither could Eurotas, nor the Po,With poplar shaded, in one channel flew;By diff'rent, and by distant banks they glide,Are rivers both, but various in their tide.There are more beauties, but there's none like thine,There are more versed, but thou hast only mine;No other charms can e'er inspire my muse,And other themes I with disdain refuse.
Siquis erit, qui turpe putet servire puellae,Illo convincar iudice turpis ego!Sim licet infamis, dum me moderatius urat,Quae Paphon et fluctu pulsa Cythera tenet.Atque utinam dominae miti quoque praeda fuissemFormosae quoniam praeda futurus eram!Dat facies animos. facie violenta Corinna est —Me miserum! cur est tam bene nota sibi?Scilicet a speculi sumuntur imagine fastus,Nec nisi conpositam se prius illa videt!Non, tibi si facies animum dat et omina regni —O facies oculos nata tenere meos! —Collatum idcirco tibi me contemnere debes;Aptari magnis inferiora licet.Traditur et nymphe mortalis amore CalypsoCapta recusantem detinuisse virum.Creditur aequoream Pthio Nereida regi,Egeriam iusto concubuisse Numae,Vulcano Venerem, quamvis incude relictaTurpiter obliquo claudicet ille pede.Carminis hoc ipsum genus inpar; sed tamen apteIungitur herous cum breviore modo.Tu quoque me, mea lux, in quaslibet accipe leges;Te deceat medio iura dedisse foro.Non tibi crimen ero, nec quo laetere remoto;Non erit hic nobis infitiandus amor.Sunt mihi pro magno felicia carmina censu,Et multae per me nomen habere volunt;Novi aliquam, quae se circumferat esse Corinnam.Ut fiat, quid non illa dedisse velit?Sed neque diversi ripa labuntur eademFrigidus Eurotas populiferque Padus,Nec nisi tu nostris cantabitur ulla libellis;Ingenio causas tu dabis una meo.
While, Macer, you Achilles' choler sing,And Greece before the walls of Ilium bring;While feats of arms in Phrygian fields you tell,And how old Tory by Grecion vengeance fell;I my soft hours in softer songs employ,And all my leisure give to love and joy.When to high acts, my voice I strive to raise,Love laughs at my attempt, and mocks my lays;"Begone!" I often to my mistress cry,But have not courage, yet, myself to fly.Whene'er she sees me in this sullen fit,She fondles me, and, on my knee will sit:"Enough of this (say I), for shame give o'er,Enough of love, we'll play the fool no more."" Ah, is it then a shame to love?" she cries,And chides, and melts me with her weeping eyes.Around my neck her snowy arms she throws,And to my lips with stifling kisses grows.How can I all this tenderness refuse?At once my wisdom, and my will I lose;I'm conquer'd, and renounce the glorious trainOf arms, and war, to sing of love again:My themes are acts, which I myself have done,And my muse sings no battles but my own.Once I confess I did the drama try,And ventur'd with success on tragedy;My genius with a moving scene agrees,And if I ventured further I might please:But love my heroics makes a jest,And laughs to see me in my buskins drest.Asham'd, and weary of this tragic whim,For tender thoughts I quitted the sublime.My mind my mistress bends another way,Her must my muse in all her songs obey;Though oft I do not what I write approve,Like, or not like it, I must sing of love.Whether for Ithaca's illustrious dame,To great Ulysses I a letter frame,Or for Oenone tender things indite,Or soft complaints for injur'd Phillis write;Whether fair Canace's incestuous careI sooth, or flatter Dido's fierce despair;Whether I fan Medea's raging fire,Or for sweet Sappho touch the Lesbian lyre;Whether I Phaedra's lawless love relate,Or Theseus' flight and Ariadne's fate:Oh, that Sabinus, my departed friend,Could from all quarters now his answers send!Ulysses' hand should to his queen be known,And wretched Phaedra hear from Theseus' son;Dido Aeneas' answer should receive,And Phillis Demophoon's, if alive;Jason should to Hypsipyle returnA sad reply, and Sappho cease to mourn:Nor him whom she can ne'er possess, desire,But give to Phoebus fane her votive lyre.As much as you in lofty epics deal,You, Macer, show that you love's passion feel,And sensible of beauty's powerful charm,You hear their call amid the noise of arms.A place for Paris in your verse we find,And Helen's to the young adult'rer kind;There lovely Laodamia mourns her lord,The first that fell by Hector's fatal sword.If well I know you, and your mind can tell,The theme's as grateful, and you like as wellTo tune your lyre for Cupid as for Mars,And Thracian combats change for Paphian wars;If well I know you, and your works designYour will, you often quit your camp for mine.
Carmen ad iratum dum tu perducis AchillenPrimaque iuratis induis arma viris,Nos, Macer, ignava Veneris cessamus in umbra,Et tener ausuros grandia frangit Amor.Saepe meae 'tandem' dixi 'discede' puellae —In gremio sedit protinus illa meo.Saepe 'pudet!' dixi — lacrimis vix illa retentis'Me miseram! iam te' dixit 'amare pudet?'Inplicuitque suos circum mea colla lacertosEt, quae me perdunt, oscula mille dedit.Vincor, et ingenium sumptis revocatur ab armis,Resque domi gestas et mea bella cano.Sceptra tamen sumpsi, curaque tragoedia nostraCrevit, et huic operi quamlibet aptus eram.Risit Amor pallamque meam pictosque cothurnosSceptraque privata tam cito sumpta manu.Hinc quoque me dominae numen deduxit iniquae,Deque cothurnato vate triumphat Amor.Quod licet, aut artes teneri profitemur Amoris —Ei mihi, praeceptis urgeor ipse meis! —Aut, quod Penelopes verbis reddatur Ulixi,Scribimus et lacrimas, Phylli relicta, tuas,Quod Paris et Macareus et quod male gratus IasonHippolytique parens Hippolytusque legant,Quodque tenens strictum Dido miserabilis ensemDicat et Aoniae Lesbis amata lyrae.Quam cito de toto rediit meus orbe SabinusScriptaque diversis rettulit ille locis!Candida Penelope signum cognovit Ulixis;Legit ab Hippolyto scripta noverca suo.Iam pius Aeneas miserae rescripsit Elissae,Quodque legat Phyllis, si modo vivit, adest.Tristis ad Hypsipylen ab Iasone littera venit;Det votam Phoebo Lesbis amata lyram.Nec tibi, qua tutum vati, Macer, arma canentiAureus in medio Marte tacetur Amor.Et Paris est illic et adultera, nobile crimen,Et comes extincto Laodamia viro.Si bene te novi, non bella libentius istisDicis, et a vestris in mea castra venis.
If for thyself thou wilt not watch thy whore,Watch her for me that I may love her more.What comes with ease we nauseously receive,Who but a sot would scorn to love with leave?With hopes and fears my flames are blown up higher;Make me despair, and then I can desire.Give me a jilt to tease my jealous mind;Deceits are virtues in the female kind.Corinna my fantastic humour knew,Play'd trick for trick, and kept herself still new;She, that next night I might the sharper come,Fell out with me, and sent me fasting home.Or some pretence to lie alone would take;Whene'er she pleas'd her head and teeth would ache:Till having won me to the highest strain,She took occasion to be sweet again.With what a gust, ye gods, we then embrac'd!How ev'ry kiss was dearer than the last!Thou whom I now adore, be edified,Take care that I may often be denied;Forget the promis'd hour, or feign some fright,Make me lie rough on bulks each other night.These are the arts that best secure thy reign,And this the food that must my fires maintain.Gross easy love does, like gross diet, pall;In squeasy stomachs honey turns to gall.Had Danae not been kept in brazen tow'rs,Jove had not thought her worth his golden show'rs:When Juno to a cow turn'd Io's shape,The watchman help'd her to a second leap.Let him who loves an easy whetstone whore,Pluck leaves from trees, and drink the common shore.The jilting harlot strikes the surest blow,A truth which I by sad experience know;The kind, poor, constant creature we despise,Man but pursues the quarry while it flies.But thou dull husband of a wife too fair,Stand on thy guard, and watch the precious ware;If creaking doors, or barking dogs, thou hear,Or windows scratch'd, suspect a rival there.An orange wench would tempt thy wife abroad;Kick her, for she's a letter-bearing bawd.In short, be jealous as the devil in hell,And set my wit on work to cheat thee well.The sneaking city-cuckold is my foe;I scorn to strike but when he wards the blow.Look to thy hits and leave off thy conniving,I'll be no drudge to any wittol living;I have been patient, and forborne thee long,In hope thou wouldst not pocket up thy wrong:If no affront can rouse thee, understandI'll take no more indulgence at thy hand.What, ne'er to be forbid thy house and wifeDamn him who loves to lead so ill a life.Now I can neither sigh, nor whine, nor pray;All those occasions thou hast ta'en away.Why art thou so incorrigibly civil?Do somewhat I may wish thee at the devilFor shame, be no accomplice in my treason;A pimping husband is too much in reason.Once more wear horns, before I quite forsake herIn hopes whereof, I rest thy cuckold-maker.
Si tibi non opus est servata, stulte, puella,At mihi fac serves, quo magis ipse velim!Quod licet, ingratum est; quod non licet acrius urit.Ferreus est, siquis, quod sinit alter, amatSperemus pariter, pariter metuamus amantes,Et faciat voto rara repulsa locum.Quo mihi fortunam, quae numquam fallere curet?Nil ego, quod nullo tempore laedat, amo!Viderat hoc in me vitium versuta Corinna,Quaque capi possem, callida norat opem.A, quotiens sani capitis mentita doloresCunctantem tardo iussit abire pede!A, quotiens finxit culpam, quantumque licebatInsonti, speciem praebuit esse nocens!Sic ubi vexarat tepidosque refoverat ignis,Rursus erat votis comis et apta meis.Quas mihi blanditias, quam dulcia verba parabatOscula, di magni, qualia quotque dabat!Tu quoque, quae nostros rapuisti nuper ocellos,Saepe time simulans, saepe rogata nega;Et sine me ante tuos proiectum in limine postisLonga pruinosa frigora nocte pati.Sic mihi durat amor longosque adolescit in annos;Hoc iuvat; haec animi sunt alimenta mei.Pinguis amor nimiumque patens in taedia nobisVertitur et, stomacho dulcis ut esca, nocet.Si numquam Danaen habuisset aenea turris,Non esset Danae de Iove facta parens;Dum servat Iuno mutatam cornibus Io,Facta est, quam fuerat, gratior illa Iovi.Quod licet et facile est quisquis cupit, arbore frondisCarpat et e magno flumine potet aquam.Siqua volet regnare diu, deludat amantem.Ei mihi, ne monitis torquear ipse meis!Quidlibet eveniat, nocet indulgentia nobis —Quod sequitur, fugio; quod fugit, ipse sequor.At tu, formosae nimium secure puellae,Incipe iam prima claudere nocte forem.Incipe, quis totiens furtim tua limina pulset,Quaerere, quid latrent nocte silente canes,Quas ferat et referat sollers ancilla tabellas,Cur totiens vacuo secubet ipsa toro.Mordeat ista tuas aliquando cura medullas,Daque locum nostris materiamque dolis.Ille potest vacuo furari litore harenas,Uxorem stulti siquis amare potest.Iamque ego praemoneo: nisi tu servare puellamIncipis, incipiet desinere esse mea!Multa diuque tuli; speravi saepe futurum,Cum bene servasses, ut bene verba darem.Lentus es et pateris nulli patienda marito;At mihi concessi finis amoris erit!Scilicet infelix numquam prohibebor adire?Nox mihi sub nullo vindice semper erit?Nil metuam? per nulla traham suspiria somnos?Nil facies, cur te iure perisse velim?Quid mihi cum facili, quid cum lenone marito?Corrumpit vitio gaudia nostra suo.Quin alium, quem tanta iuvat patientia, quaeris?Me tibi rivalem si iuvat esse, veta!