T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22.
From Elegies: Book III. Elegia XIV.
By Ovid (43 B.C.–18 A.D.)(Translated by Christopher Marlowe) Ad amicam, si peccatura est, ut occulte peccet. |
SEEING thou art fair, I bar not thy false playing, | |
| But let not me, poor soul, know of thy straying. | |
| Nor do I give thee counsel to live chaste, | |
| But that thou would’st dissemble, when ’tis past. | |
| She hath not trod awry, that doth deny it. | 5 |
| Such as confess have lost their good names by it. | |
| What madness is’t to tell night-pranks by day? | |
| And hidden secrets openly to bewray? | |
| The strumpet with the stranger will not do, | |
| Before the room be clear, and door put-to. | 10 |
| Will you make shipwreck of your honest name, | |
| And let the world be witness of the same? | |
| Be more advised, walk as a puritan, | |
| And I shall think you chaste, do what you can. | |
| Slip still, only deny it when ’tis done, | 15 |
| And, before folk, immodest speeches shun. | |
| The bed is for lascivious toyings meet, | |
| There use all tricks, and tread shame under feet. | |
| When you are up and dressed, be sage and grave, | |
| And in the bed hide all the faults you have. | 20 |
| Be not ashamed to strip you, being there, | |
| And mingle thighs, yours ever mine to bear. | |
| There in your rosy lips my tongue entomb, | |
| Practise a thousand sports when there you come. | |
| Forbear no wanton words you there would speak, | 25 |
| And with your pastime let the bedstead creak; | |
| But with your robes put on an honest face, | |
| And blush and seem as you were full of grace. | |
| Deceive all; let me err; and think I’m right, | |
| And like a wittol think thee void of slight. | 30 |
| Why see I lines so oft received and given? | |
| This bed and that by tumbling made uneven? | |
| Like one start up your hair tost and displaced, | |
| And with a wanton’s tooth your neck new-rased. | |
| Grant this, that what you do I may not see; | 35 |
| If you weigh not ill speeches, yet weigh me. | |
| My soul fleets when I think what you have done, | |
| And thorough every vein doth cold blood run. | |
| Then thee whom I must love, I hate in vain, | |
| And would be dead, but dead with thee remain. | 40 |
| I’ll not sift much, but hold thee soon excused. | |
| Say but thou wert injuriously accused. | |
| Though while the deed be doing you be took, | |
| And I see when you ope the two-leaved book, | |
| Swear I was blind; deny, if you be wise, | 45 |
| And I will trust your words more than mine eyes. | |
| From him that yields, the palm is quickly got, | |
| Teach but your tongue to say, “I did it not,” | |
| And being justified by two words think | |
| The cause acquits you not, but I that wink. | 50 |