Book XI, Epigram 7 (Ker)

Now at least you will not say, Paula, to your dolt of a husband, every time you want to go to a lover at a distance, "Caesar bade me come in the morning to his Alban villa, Caesar bade me come to Circeii." Now such a manoeuvre is off. 'Tis lawful for you to be a Penelope under Nerva as chief, but your itch and inveterate bent forbid you. Unfortunate woman, what will you do.'' Will you pretend the sickness of a friend? Your husband in person mil cling to his dame's skirts, and will go with you to brother and mother and father. What fraud then would your ingenuity devise? Another wanton would perhaps say she is hysterical, and wished to sit in Sinuessa's baths. How much better is your practice whenever you have a mind to stray! You, Paula, prefer to tell your husband the truth!