BOOK 2, ELEGY 4
Quod amet mulieres, cuiuscunque formae sint (That he loves women, whatever their looks)
I mean not to defend the scapes of any, Or justify my vices being many, For I confess, if that might merit favour, Here I display my lewd and loose behaviour. I loathe, yet after that I loathe, I run: Oh how the burden irks, that we should shun. I cannot rule myself, but where love please Am driven like a ship upon rough seas, No one face likes me best, all faces move, A hundred reasons makes me ever love. If any eye me with a modest look, I burn, and by that blushful glance am took: And she that's coy I like for being no clown, Methinks she should be nimble when she's down. Though her sour looks a Sabine's brow resemble, I think she'll do, but deeply can dissemble. If she be learned, then for her skill I crave her, If not, because she's simple I would have her. Before Callimachus one prefers me far, Seeing she likes my books, why should we jar? Another rails at me, and that I write, Yet would I lie with her if that I might. Trips she, it likes me well, plods she, what than? She would be nimbler, lying with a man. And when one sweetly sings, then straight I long, To quaver on her lips ev'n in her song, Or if one touch the lute with art and cunning, Who would not love those hands for their swift running? And she I like that with a majesty, Folds up her arms, and makes low courtesy. To leave myself, that am in love with all, Some one of these might make the chastest fall. If she be tall, she's like an Amazon, And therefore fills the bed she lies upon: If short, she lies the rounder: to speak troth, Both short and long please me, for I love both: I think what one undeckt would be, being dress'd; Is she attired, then show her graces best. A white wench thralls me, so doth golden yellow, And nut-brown girls in doing have no fellow. If her white neck be shadowed with black hair, Why so was Leda's, yet was Leda fair. Amber-tress'd is she, then on the morn think I, My love alludes to every history: A young wench pleaseth, and an old is good, This for her looks, that for her womanhood: Nay what is she that any Roman loves, But my ambitious ranging mind approves?
BOOK 2, ELEGY 5
Ad amicam corruptam (To his unfaithful mistress)
No love is so dear (quiver'd Cupid, fly) That my chief wish should be so oft to die. Minding thy fault, with death I wish to revel, Alas a wench is a perpetual evil. No intercepted lines thy deeds display, No gifts given secretly thy crime bewray. O would my proofs as vain might be withstood, Ay me, poor soul, why is my cause so good. He's happy, that his love dares boldly credit, To whom his wench can say, I never did it. He's cruel, and too much his grief doth favour That seeks the conquest by her loose behaviour. Poor wretch, I saw when thou didst think I slumber'd, Not drunk, your faults in the spilt wine I number'd. I saw your nodding eyebrows much to speak, Even from your cheeks part of a voice did break. Not silent were thine eyes, the board with wine Was scribbled, and thy fingers writ a line. I knew your speech (what do not lovers see?) And words that seem'd for certain marks to be. Now many guests were gone, the feast being done, The youthful sort to divers pastimes run. I saw you then unlawful kisses join, (Such with my tongue it likes me to purloin). None such the sister gives her brother grave, But such kind wenches let their lovers have. Phoebus gave not Diana such 'tis thought, But Venus often to her Mars such brought. 'What dost?', I cried, 'Transport'st thou my delight? My lordly hands I'll throw upon my right. Such bliss is only common to us two, In this sweet good, why hath a third to do? This, and what grief enforc'd me say I said, A scarlet blush her guilty face arrayed. Even such as by Aurora hath the sky, Or maids that their betrothed husbands spy. Such as a rose mixed with a lily breeds, Or when the moon travels with charmed steeds. Or such as, lest long years should turn the die, Arachne stains Assyrian ivory. To these, or some of these, like was her colour, By chance her beauty never shined fuller. She viewed the earth: the earth to view, beseem'd her. She looked sad: sad, comely I esteem'd her. Even kembed as they were, her locks to rend, And scratch her fair soft cheeks I did intend. Seeing her face, mine uprear'd arms descended, With her own armour was my wench defended. I that ere-while was fierce, now humbly sue, Lest with worse kisses she should me endue. She laugh'd, and kiss'd so sweetly as might make Wrath-kindled Jove away his thunder shake. I grieve lest others should such good perceive, And wish hereby them all unknown to leave. Also much better were they than I tell, And ever seem'd as some new sweet befell. 'Tis ill they pleas'd so much, for in my lips, Lay her whole tongue hid, mine in hers she dips. This grieves me not, no joined kisses spent, Bewail I only, though I them lament. No where can they be taught but in the bed, I know no master of so great hire sped.