Still, this I shall _be able to_ see; but what the clothing carefully conceals, the same will be a cause for me of apprehension full of doubts. Touch not his thigh with yours, and cross not legs with him, and do not unite your delicate foot with his uncouth leg. To my misery, I am apprehensive of many a thing, because many a thing have I done in my wantonness; and I myself am tormented, through fear of my own precedent. Oft _by joining hands_ beneath the cloth, [048] have my mistress and I forestalled our hurried delights. This, I _am sure_, you will not do _for him_; but that you may not _even_ be supposed to do so, take away the conscious covering [049] from your bosom. Bid your husband drink incessantly, but let there be no kisses with your entreaties; and while he is drinking, if you can, add wine by stealth. [050] If he shall be soundly laid asleep with dozing and wine, circumstances and opportunity will give us _fitting_ counsel. When you shall rise to go home, we all will rise as well; _and_ remember that you walk in the middle rank of the throng. In that rank you will either find me, or be found _by me_; _and_ whatever part of me you can there touch, _mind and_ touch. Ah wretched me! I have given advice to be good for _but_ a few hours; _then_, at the bidding of night, I am separated from my mistress. At night her husband will lock her in; I, sad with my gushing tears, will follow her as far as I may, even to her obdurate door. _And_ now will he be snatching a kiss; _and_ now not kisses only will he snatch; you will be compelled to grant him that, which by stealth you grant to me. But grant him this (you can do so) with a bad grace, and like one acting by compulsion; let no caresses be heard; and let Venus prove inauspicious. If my wishes avail, I trust, too, that he will find no satisfaction therein; but if otherwise, still at least let it have no delights for you. But, however, whatever luck may attend upon the night, assure me in positive language to-morrow, that you did not dally with him. ELEGY V. _The beauties of Corinna._ |Twas summer time, [051] and the day had passed the hour of noon; _when_ I threw my limbs to be refreshed on the middle of the couch. A part of the window [053] was thrown open, the other part shut; the light was such as the woods are wont to have; just as the twilight glimmers, when Phoebus is retreating; or _as_ when the night has gone, and still the day is not risen. Such light should be given to the bashful fair, in which coy modesty may hope to have concealment. Behold! Corinna [054] came, clothed in a tunic [055] hanging loose, her flowing hair [056] covering her white neck.