Then in ambiguous words thy suit prefer;
Which she may know were all addrest to her.
Practice all the variations conceivable in winning your designated conquest, Ovid advises recurrently. Your wit and suavity will prevail: far more, in fact, than artificial aids, such as philtres. Philtres, Ovid asserts from the richness of his erotic experience, are futile in the contests of love:
Pallid philtres given to girls were of no avail. Philtres harm the mind and produce an impact of madness.
He enumerates many items that were popularly reputed to possess aphrodisiac properties. But you should shun them, he reiterates, for their effect is minimal. Hippomanes, the excrescence on a new-born colt, is ineffectual: similarly with the traditional magic herbs purchased furtively from some wizened old hag. Reject, equally, formulas for exorcism and similar enchantments. The best love philtre, in short, is the lover’s own passion. Even the ancient enchantress Circe, whom Homer describes so vividly, could not, by the aid of her occult devices, prevent the unfaithfulness of Ulysses: nor could the tumultuous Medea, practiced in the lore of the sorceress, combat the waywardness of Jason.
It is true, the poet acknowledges, that in the popular mind many objects, grasses, roots are associated with the virtues of the love potion: but erroneously so, he adds. He lists the items as follows:
Some teach that herbs will efficacious prove,
But in my judgment such things poison love.
Pepper with biting nettle-seed they bruise,
With yellow pellitory wine infuse.