Book III, Elegy 8

Right glad am I of our brawl by the lamplight yestereve and all the railings of thy frenzied tongue, when mad with wine thou didst thrust away the table and cast goblets of wine at me with angry hand. Nay, be bold! Assail my hair and scar my face with thy fair talons! Threaten to hold fire beneath mine eyes and burn them from their sockets! Tear my raiment and leave my bosom bare!

In all this forsooth thou givest me tokens of thy passion's truth: never is woman vexed, save if her love be strong. She, that hurls taunts with raving tongue, lies grovelling at the feet of mighty Venus; she throngs herself close with flocks of guardians, or rushes down the street like some frenzied Maenad; or wild dreams fright her timid soul continually, or the painted portrait of some girl fills her with woe. From all these torments of soul I draw sure auguries: these have I learned to be the signs of constant passion. No love is constant that cannot be provoked to quarrel: be girls that naught may move the fate of them that hate me.

Let my comrades see the wounds where her teeth have torn my neck; let dark bruises show that my love hath been with me. I would have sorrow myself in love, or else hear thine; I would see thy tears or else mine own, that fall if ever thou sendest secret messages with nodding brow, or with thy fingers writest words thou wouldst not speak aloud. I hate those sighs that never break through sleep: 'tis for an angry mistress I would ever be pale with longing. Sweeter to Paris was his passion's fire, when he must cleave his way through the hosts of Greece ere he could bring joy to his love, the daughter of Tyndareus. While the Danaans conquered, while savage Hector barred their path, he waged a mightier war in Helen's arms. Either with thee or for thee with my rival will I wage truceless war: where thou art, peace hath for me no pleasure.

Rejoice that none is fair as thou! Thou wouldst grieve if there were any. But now thou hast just cause for pride.

But for thee, that didst spread a snare for our love, may thy wife's father live for ever and thy house ne'er have peace from her mother! If ever thou wast granted the boon of one stolen night, 'twas anger against me, not love for thee, that made her grant it.