Fair dames forbear rewards for nights to crave: Ill-gotten goods good end will never have. The Sabine gauntlets were too dearly won, That unto death did press the holy nun. 50 The son slew her, that forth to meet him went, And a rich necklace caused that punishment. Yet think no scorn to ask a wealthy churl; He wants no gifts into thy lap to hurl. Take clustered grapes from an o'er-laden vine, May[195] bounteous love[196] Alcinous' fruit resign. Let poor men show their service, faith and care; All for their mistress, what they have, prepare. In verse to praise kind wenches 'tis my part, And whom I like eternise by mine art. 60 Garments do wear, jewels and gold do waste, The fame that verse gives doth for ever last. To give I love, but to be asked disdain; Leave asking, and I'll give what I refrain. FOOTNOTES: [187] Not in Isham copy or ed. A. [188] "Simplex." [189] Sans. [190] "Nec _Venus_ apta," &c. [191] Old eds. "to." [192] "Vendit." [193] "Non bene conducti testes." [194] So ed. B.--ed. C "bad merchandise." [195] Old eds. "many." [196] The original has "ager." ELEGIA XI.[197] Napen alloquitur, ut paratas tabellas ad Corinnam perferat. In skilful gathering ruffled hairs in order, NapË, free-born, whose cunning hath no border,[198] Thy service for night's scapes is known commodious, And to give signs dull wit to thee is odious.[199] Corinna clips me oft by thy persuasion: Never to harm me made thy faith evasion. Receive these lines; them to my mistress carry; Be sedulous; let no stay cause thee tarry, Nor flint nor iron are in thy soft breast, But pure simplicity in thee doth rest. 10 And 'tis supposed Love's bow hath wounded thee; Defend the ensigns of thy war in me. If what I do, she asks, say "hope for night;" The rest my hand doth in my letters write. Time passeth while I speak; give her my writ, But see that forthwith she peruseth it. I charge thee mark her eyes and front in reading: By speechless looks we guess at things succeeding. Straight being read, will her to write much back, I hate fair paper should writ matter lack. 20 Let her make verses and some blotted letter On the last edge to stay mine eyes the better. What needs she tire[200] her hand to hold the quill? Let this word "Come," alone the tables fill. Then with triumphant laurel will I grace them And in the midst of Venus' temple place them, Subscribing, that to her I consecrate My faithful tables, being vile maple late. FOOTNOTES: [197] Not in Isham copy or ed. A. [198] Bound. [199] "Et dandis ingeniosa notis." [200] So Dyce for "try" of the old eds. ELEGIA XII.[201] Tabellas quas miserat execratur quod amica noctem negabat.