Lysias took the tablet in his hand, and after considering it carefully on both sides he said:
“It belongs to the sculptor, for there is his name. And there—why she has actually spiced the sauce or, if you like it better the bitter dose, with verses. They are written more clearly than beautifully, still they are of the learned sort.”
“Well?” asked the Roman with curiosity, as Lysias read the lines to himself; the Greek did not look up from the writing but sighed softly, and rubbing the side of his finely-cut nose with his finger he replied:
“Very pretty, indeed, for any one to whom they are not directly addressed. Would you like to hear the distich?”
“Read it to me, I beg of you.”
“Well then,” said the Corinthian, and sighing again he read aloud;
‘Sweet is the lot of the couple whom love has united;
But gold is a debt, and needs must at once be restored.’
“There, that is the dose. But doves are not human creatures, and I know at once what my answer shall be. Give me the fibula, Publius, that clasps that cloak in which you look like one of your own messengers. I will write my answer on the wax.”
The Roman handed to Lysias the golden circlet armed with a strong pin, and while he stood holding his cloak together with his hands, as he was anxious to avoid recognition by the passers-by that frequented this street, the Corinthian wrote as follows:
“When doves are courting the lover adorns himself only;
But when a youth loves, he fain would adorn his beloved.”