Ars Amatoria; or, The Art Of Love: Literally Translated into English Prose, with Copious NotesOvid
General
Ars Amatoria; or, The Art Of Love: Literally Translated into English Prose, with Copious Notes
Ovid
Latin poetry -- Adaptations; Latin poetry -- Translations into English
Great must be [771] your dread of the birthday of your mistress, and
unlucky be that day on which any present must be made. Though you
should cleverly avoid her, still she will spoil you; a woman finds
contrivances, by means of which to plunder the riches of the eager
lover. The loosely-clad pedlar [772] will be coming to your mistress,
so fond of buying, and while you are by, will be exposing his wares. She
wills ask you to examine them, only that you may appear to be knowing;
then she will give you a kiss, and then entreat you to purchase. She
will swear that she will be content with this for many a year; she will
say that now she has need of it, now it may be bought a bargain. If you
shall make the excuse that you have not the money at home to give; a
promissory note [773] will be asked for; it would then profit you not to
have learned [774] to write. Besides, too; when she asks for a present,
as though for the birth-day cake, [775] and is born for her own pleasure
as often as she pleases. And further; when, full of tears, she laments
her pretended loss, and the jewel [776] is feigned to have fallen from
her pierced ear. They ask for many a sum to be lent them; so lent, they
have no inclination to return them. You lose the whole; and no thanks
are there for your loss. Had I ten mouths, with tongues as many, they
would not suffice for me to recount the abominable contrivances of
courtesans.
Let the wax that is poured upon the polished tablets first try the ford;
let the wax first go as the messenger of your feelings. Let it carry
your compliments; and whoever you are, add expressions that feign you
to be in love, and entreaties not a few. Achilles, moved with his
entreaties, granted Hector to Priam; an angered Divinity is moved by the
voice of entreaty. Take care to make promises: for what harm is there in
promising? Any person whatever can be rich in promises. Hope, if she
is only once cherished, holds out for a long time; she is, indeed, a
deceitful Goddess, but still a convenient one. Should you give her [777]
anything, you may for that reason be abandoned by her: she will bear off
the gift by-gone, and will have lost nothing in return. But that which
you have not given, you may always seem as though about to give; thus
has the sterile field full oft deceived its owner. So the gambler, in
order that he may not lose, does not cease to lose; and the alluring
dice ever recall the anxious hand. This is the task, this the labour;
to gain her without even the first present. What she has once given, she
will always give, that she may not have granted to no purpose. Let the
letter go then, and let it be couched in tender expressions; and let it
ascertain her feelings, and be the first to feel its way. A letter borne
upon an apple [778] deceived Cydippe; and by her own words the fair was
unconsciously caught.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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