Book V, 191

O stars, and moon, that lightest well Love’s friends on their way, and Night, and thou, my little mandoline, companion of my serenades, shall I see her, the wanton one, yet lying awake and crying much to her lamp; or has she some companion of the night ? Then will I hang at her door my suppliant garlands, all wilted with my tears, and inscribe thereon but these words, “Cypris, to thee doth Meleager, he to whom thou hast revealed the secrets of thy revels, suspend these spoils of his love.”