Had Phædra lost her wealth, thou wouldst, Neptune, have spared thy descendant; [1273] nor would the bull, sent by his ancestor, have startled the steeds. Had you made the Gnossian [1274] damsel poor, she would have loved with prudence. Voluptuous passion is nourished by opulence. Why was there no one to court Hecale, [1275] no one to court Iras? [1276] It was because the one was in want, the other a pauper. Poverty has nothing by which to pamper its passion; still, this is not of so much consequence, that you should desire to be poor. But let it be of so much consequence to you, as not to be indulging yourself with the Theatres, until Love has entirely departed from your liberated breast. The harps, and the pipes, and the lyres, soften the feelings; the voices, too, and the arms, moved to their proper time. There, everlastingly, the parts of supposed lovers are being acted [1277] in the dance; by his skill, the actor teaches you what to avoid, and what is serviceable. Unwillingly must I say it: meddle not with the amorous Poets; unnaturally do I myself withhold my own productions. Avoid Callimachus; no enemy is he to Love; and together with Callimachus, thou, too, bard of Cos, [1278] art injurious. Beyond a doubt, Sappho has rendered me more lenient to my mistress; and the Teian Muse has imparted manners far from austere. Who can read in safety the lines of Tibullus, or thine, thou, whose sole subject Cynthia was? Who, after reading Gallus, could retire with obdurate feelings? Even my own lines have tones indescribably sweet. Unless Apollo, the inspirer of my work, is deceiving his bard, a rival is the especial cause of our torments. But do you refrain from conjuring up to yourself any rival; and believe that she lies alone upon her couch. Orestes loved Hermione [1279] more intensely for that very reason; because she had begun to belong to another man. Why, Menelaiis, dost thou grieve? Without thy wife thou didst go to Crete; and thou couldst, at thy ease, be absent from thy spouse. Soon as Paris has carried her off, then at last thou couldst not do without thy wife; through the passion of another was thine own increased. This, too, did Achilles lament, in the case of the daughter of Brises, when taken away from him, that she was administering to the pleasures of the couch of the son of Plisthenes. [1280] And not without reason, [1281] believe me, did he lament. The son of Atreus did that, which if he had not done, he would have been disgracefully torpid. At least, I should have done so, and 1 am not any wiser than he. That was the especial reward for the ill-will he got. For, inasmuch as he swore by his sceptre, that the daughter of Brises had never been touched by him; 'tis clear that he did not think [1282] his sceptre was the Gods.