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Ad rivalem, cui uxor curae non erat

Foole if to keepe thy wife thou hast no neede,
Keepe her for me, my more desire to breede.
Wee skorne things lawfiill, stolne sweetes we affect,
Cruell is he, that loves whom none protect.
Let us both lovers hope, and feare a like,
And may repulse place for our wishes strike.
What should I do with fortune that nere failes me?
Nothing I love, that at all times availes me.
Wily Corinna sawe this blemish in me,
And craftily knowes by what meanes to winne me.
Ah often, that her hale head aked, she lying,
Wild me, whose slowe feete sought delay, be flying.
Ah oft how much she might she feignd offence;
And doing wrong made shew of innocence.
So having vext she nourisht my warme fire,
And was againe most apt to my desire.
To please me, what faire termes and sweet words ha's shee,
Great gods what kisses, and how many gave she?
Thou also that late tookest mine eyes away,
Oft couzen me, oft being wooed say nay.
And on thy thre-shold let me lie dispred,
Suffring much cold by hoary nights frost bred.
So shall my love continue many yeares,
This doth delight me, this my courage cheares.
Fat love, and too much fulsome me annoyes,
Even as sweete meate a glutted stomacke cloyes.
In brazen tower had not Danae dwelt,
A mothers joy by Jove she had not felt.
While JunoJo keepes when hornes she wore,
Jove liked her better then he did before.
Who covets lawfull things takes leaves from woods,
And drinkes stolne waters in surrownding floudes.
Her lover let her mocke, that long will raigne,
Aye me, let not my warnings cause my paine.
What ever haps, by suifrance harme is done,
What flies, I followe, what followes me I shunne.
But thou of thy faire damsell too secure,
Beginne to shut thy house at evening sure.
Search at the dore who knocks oft in the darke,
In nights deepe silence why the ban-dogges barke.
Whether the subtile maide lines bringes and carries,
Why she alone in empty bed oft tarries.
Let this care some-times bite thee to the quick,
That to deceits it may me forward pricke.
To steale sands from the shore he loves alife,
That can effect a foolish wittalls wife.
Now I forewarne, unlesse to keepe her stronger,
Thou doest beginne, she shall be mine no longer.
Long have I borne much, hoping time would beate thee
To guard her well, that well I might entreate thee.
Thou suifrest what no husband can endure,
But of my love it will an end procure.
Shall I poore soule be never interdicted?
Nor never with nights sharpe revenge afflicted?
In sleeping shall I fearelesse drawe my breath?
Wilt nothing do, why I should wish thy death?
Can I but loath a husband growne a baude?
By thy default thou doest our joyes defraude.
Some other seeke that may in patience strive with thee,
To pleasure me, for-bid me to corive with thee.

load focus Latin (R. Ehwald, 1907)
load focus English (various, 1855)
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  • Commentary references to this page (1):
    • George W. Mooney, Commentary on Apollonius: Argonautica, 3.1018
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