I complained, I recollect, that new-made friends are to be dreaded; that complaint does not extend to men alone. If you are too trusting, other women will interrupt your pleasures; and this hare of yours will be destined to be hunted down by other persons. Even she, [1118] who so obligingly lends her couch and her room, believe me, has not once only been in my company. And do not let too pretty a maid wait upon you; many a time has she filled [1119] her mistress's place for me. Whither, in my folly, am I led on? Why with bared breast do I strive against the foe, and why, myself, am I betrayed through information that is my own? The bird does not instruct the fowler in which direction he may be taken: the hind does not teach the hostile hounds how to run. Still, let interest see to itself; my precepts, with fidelity will I give. To the Lemnian dames, [1120] for my own destruction, will I present the sword.
Give reason (and 'tis easy to do so) for us to believe ourselves to be loved. Belief arises readily in those who are anxious for the fulfilment of their desires. Let the fair one eye the youth in a kindly manner; let her heave sighs from her very heart, and let her enquire, why it is he comes so late? Let tears be added, too, and feigned apprehensions about a rival, and with her fingers let her tear her face. Soon will he be thoroughly persuaded, one? he will pity you of his own accord; and will say to himself "This woman is consumed by affection for me." Especially, if he shall be well drest, and shall please himself at the looking-glass, he will believe that the Goddesses might be touched with love for him. But, whoever you are, let an injury disturb you only in a moderate degree; and don't, on hearing of a rival, go out of your mind. And don't at once believe it; how injurious it is at once to believe things, Procris will be no slight proof to you.
There is near the empurpled hills of blooming Hymettus a sacred spring, and the ground is soft with the verdant turf. The wood, of no great height, there forms a grove; the strawberry tree overshadows the grass; rosemary, and laurels, and swarthy myrtles give their perfume. Neither the box-trees with their thick foliage and the slender tamarisks, nor yet the tiny trefoil and the garden pine, are wanting there. Moved by the gentle Zephyrs and the balmy air, the leaves of these many kinds, and the tops of the grass quiver. Pleasant was this retreat to Cephalus; [1121] his servants and his hounds left behind, the youth, when weary, often sat down in this spot. And here he was in the habit of repeating, "Come, gentle Aura [breeze], to be received in my bosom, that thou mayst moderate my heat."
Some person, maliciously officious, with retentive lips carried the words he had heard to the timid ears of his wife. Procris, when she heard the name of Aura [breeze], as though of a rival, fainted away, and with this sudden apprehension she was mute. She turned pale, just as the late leaves become wan, which the coming winter has nipped, the clusters now gathered from the vine; and as the quinces [1122] which in their ripeness are bending their boughs; and as the cornels not yet quite fit for food for man. When her senses had returned, she tore her thin garments from off her body with her nails, and wounded her guiltless cheeks. And no delay was there; raving, with dishevelled locks, she flew amid the tracks, like a Bacchanal aroused by the thyrsus. When she had come near the spot, she left her attendants in the valley; and with silent footsteps, in her boldness, she herself stealthily entered the grove. What, Procris, were thy feelings, when thus, in thy frenzy, thou didst he concealed? What the impulse of thy disquieted breast? Each moment, forsooth, wast thou expecting that she would come, whoever Aura might be, and that their criminality would be witnessed with thine eyes.
Now dost thou repent of having come, for indeed thou wouldst not wish to detect him; and now thou art glad; fluctuating affection is tormenting thy breast. There is the spot, and the name, and the informant to bid thee give credence; and the fact that the lover always apprehends that to exist which he dreads. When she beheld the grass beaten down, the impress of his body, her trembling bosom was throbbing with her palpitating heart. And now midday had made the unsubstantial shadows small, and at an equal distance were the evening and the morn. Behold! Cephalus, the offspring of the Cyilenian God, [1123] returns from the woods, and sprinkles his glowing face with water of the fountain. In thy anxiety, Procris, art thou lying concealed. Along the grass he lies as wont, and says, "Ye gentle Zephyrs, and thou Aura [breeze], come hither." When the welcome mistake of the name was thus revealed to the sorrowing fair, both her senses and the real colour of her face returned.
She arose; and the wife, about to rush into the embrace of her husband, by the moving of her body, shook the leaves that were in her way. He, thinking that a wild beast had made the noise, with alacrity snatched up his bow; his arrows were in his right hand. What, wretched man, art thou about? 'Tis no wild beast; keep still thy weapons. Ah wretched me! by thy dart has the fair been pierced. "Ah me!" she cries aloud, "a loving heart hast thou pierced. That spot has ever retained the wound inflicted by Cephalus. Before my time I die, but injured by no rival; this, O Earth, will make thee light when I am entombed. Now is my breath departing in the breeze that I had thus suspected; I sink, alas! close my eyes with those dear hands."
In his sorrowing bosom he supports the dying body of his spouse, and with his tears he bathes her cruel wounds. Her breath departs; and gradually fleeting from her senseless breast, her breath [1124] is received into the mouth of her wretched husband.
But let us return to our path; I must deal with my subject undisguised, that my wearied bark may reach its port. You may be waiting, in fact, for me to escort you to the banquet, and may be requesting my advice in this respect as well. Come late, and enter when the lights are brought in; delay is a friend to passion; a very great stimulant is delay. Even should you be ugly, to the tipsy you will appear charming: and night itself will afford a concealment for your imperfections. Take up your food with your fingers; [1125] the method of eating is something; and do not besmear all your face with your dirty hand. And do not first [1126] take food at home; but cease to eat a little sooner than you could wish, and could have eaten. Had the son of Priam seen Helen greedily devouring, he would have detested her; and he would have said, "That prize of mine is an oaf."
It is more proper and is more becoming for the fair to drink to excess. Thou dost not, Bacchus, consort amiss with the son of Venus. This too, only so far as the head will bear it, and the senses and the feet will be able to perform their duty; [1127] and do not see each object that is single, as double. A woman sprawling along, and drenched in plenteous wine, is a disgusting object; she is worthy to endure the embraces of any kind of fellows. And it is no safe thing when the tables are removed to fall asleep; in sleep many a shocking thing is wont to happen. I feel ashamed to instruct you any further, but genial Dione says, "That which shames you is especially my own province." Let each particular then be known unto you:
——modos a corpore certos