The waste? to lust a little? on the belly less?
Begin; a glutted hoard paternal; ebb the first.
To this, the booty Pontic; add the spoil from out
Iberia, known to Tagus' amber ory stream.
20 Not only Gaul, nor only quail the Briton isles.
What help a rogue to fondle? is not all his act
To swallow monies, empty purses heap on heap?
But you—to please him only, shame to Rome, to me!
Could you the son, the father, idly ruin all?
XXX.
False Alfenus, in all amity frail, duty a prodigal,
Doth thy pity depart? Shall not a friend, traitor, a friend recal
Love? what courage is here me to betray, me to repudiate?
. . . . . . . . . . .
5 . . . . . . . . . . .
Never sure did a lie, never a sin, please the celestials.
(5) This you heed not; alas! leave me to new misery, desolate.
O where now shall a man trust? liveth yet any fidelity?
You, you only did urge love to be free, life to surrender, you.
10 Guiding into the snare, falsely secure, prophet of happiness.
Now you leave me, retract, every deed, every word allow
(10) Into nullity winds far to remove, vapoury clouds to bear.
You forget me, but yet surely the Gods, surely remembereth
Faith; hereafter again honour awakes, causeth a wretch to rue.