Amores I.4

That husband of yours will attend the same banquet with us — may that dinner, I pray, be your husband's last! Must I then merely look upon the girl I love, be merely a fellow-guest? Is the delight of feeling your touch to be another's, and must it be another's breast you warm, reclining close to him? Shall he throw his arm about your neck whenever he wills? No longer marvel that when the wine had been set the fair daughter of At rax drove to combat the men of ambiguous form! My dwelling-place is not the forest, nor are my members partly man and partly horse — yet I seem scarce able to keep my hands from you!

Yet learn what your task must be, nor give my words to the East-wind to be borne away, nor to the tepid South! Arrive before your husband — and yet I do not see what can be done if you do arrive before; and yet, arrive before him. When he shall press the couch, you will come yourself with modest mien to recline beside him — in secret give my foot a touch! Keep your eyes on me, to get my nods and the Language of my eyes; and catch my stealthy signs, and yourself return them. With my brows I shall say to you words that speak without sound; you will read words from my fingers, you will read word-traced in wine. When you think of the wanton delights of our love, touch your rosy cheeks with tender finger. If you have in mind some silent grievance against me, let your hand gently hold to the lowest part of your ear. When what I do or what I say shall please you, light of mine, keep turning your ring about your finger. Lav your hand upon the table as those who place their hands in prayer, when you wish your husband the many ills he deserves.

The wine he mingles for you, be wise and bid him drink himself; quietly ask the slave for the kind you yourself desire. The cup that you give to him to fill, I will be first to take, and I'll drink from the part where you have drunk. If he chance to give you food that he has tasted first, refuse what his lips have touched. And don't allow him to place his arms about your neck, don't let your yielding head lie on his rigid breast; and don't let your hidden charms submit to his touch; and, more than all, don't let him kiss you — not once! If you let him kiss you, I'll declare myself your lover before his eyes, and say, "Those kisses are mine!" and lay hand to my claim.

Yet these offences I shall see, but those that the robe well hides will rouse in me blind fears. Bring not thigh near thigh, nor press with the limb, nor touch rough feet with tender ones. There are many things I wretchedly tear, because there are many I have wantonly wrought, and I am in torment, see! from fear of my own example. Oft have my lady-love and I stolen in haste our sweet delights with her robe to cover us. This you will not do; but lest you be thought to have done it. remove from your shoulders the conspiring mantle. Keep pressing your husband to drink — only add no kisses to your prayers! — and while he drinks, in secret it' you can, keep pouring him pure vine. If once we have him laid to rest in sleep and wine, our counsel we can take from place and circumstance. When you rise to go home, and all the rest of us rise, remember to lose yourself in the midst of the crowd. You will find me there in that crowd, or will be found by me. Wherever you can touch me there, lay hand on me.

Miserable that I am, I have urged you to what will help for only a few scant hours; I must be separated from my lady-love — night will command it. At night your husband will shut you in, and I all gloomy and pouring forth my tears, shall follow you — as far as I may — up to the cruel doors. Then he will take kisses from you, yes, then he will take not only kisses; what you give me in secret, you will give him as a right, because you must. Hut give against your will — this much you can do — and like one made to yield; let your favours be without word, and let him find V'enus ill-disposed. If my vows have any weight, I pray she grant him no delight; if not, may you at least have no delight from him. But whatsoever, none the less, shall be the fortune of the night, to-morrow with steadfast voice tell me you were not kind!