Art of Love

Yet no precaution to this rule belongs;

Let us at most suspect, not prove our wrongs.

Sometimes your lover, to incite the more,

Pretends your husband's spies beset the door;

Tho' free as Thais, still affect a fright,

For seeming danger heightens the delight.

Oft let the youth in thro' your windows steal,

Tho' he might enter at the door as well;

And sometimes let your maid surprise pretend,

And beg you in some hole to hide your friend:

Yet ever and anon dispel his fear,

And let him taste of happiness sincere;

Lest, quite dishearten'd with too much fatigue,

He should grow weary of the dull intrigue.

But I forgot to tell how you may try

Both to evade the husband and the spy.

That wives should of their husbands stand in awe,

Agrees with justice, modesty, and law;

But that a mistress may be lawful prize,

None but her keeper I am sure denies.

For such fair nymphs these precepts are design'd,

Which ne'er can fail, join'd with a willing mind.

Tho' stuck with Argus' eyes your keeper were,

Advis'd by me you shall elude his care.

When you to wash or bathe retire from eight,

Can he observe what letters then you write?

Or can his caution against such provide,

Which in her breast your confidant may hide!

Can he that note beneath her garter view,

Or that which more conceal'd is in her shoe ?

Yet, these perceived, you may her back undress,

And writing on her skin your mind express.

New milk, or pointed spires of flax when green,

Will ink supply, and letters mark unseen.

Fair will the paper, show, nor can be read,

Till all the writing 's with warm ashes spread.

Acresius was with all his care betray'd,

And in his tow'r of brass a grandsire made.

Can spies avail when you to plays resort,

Or in the circus view the noble sport?

Or can you be to Isis' fane pursu'd,

Or Cybele's, whose rights all men exclude?

Tho' watchful servants to the Bagnio come,

They're ne'er admitted to the bathing-room.

Or when some sudden sickness you pretend,

May you not take to your sick bed a friend?

False keys a private passage may procure,

If not, there are more ways besides the door.

Sometimes with wine your watchful follower treat;

When drunk, you may with ease his care defeat:

Or, to prevent too sudden a surprise,

Prepare a sleeping draught to seal his eyes;

Or let your maid, still longer time to gain,

An inclination for his person feign;

With faint resistance let her drill him on,

And, after competent delays, be won.

But what need all these various doubtful wiles,

Since gold the greatest vigilance beguiles?

Believe me, men and gods with gifts are pleas'd,

E'en angry Jove with offerings is appeas'd;

With presents fools and wise alike are caught;

Give but enough, the husband may be bought,

But let we warn you, when you bribe a spy,

That you for ever his connivance buy;

Pay him his price at once, for with such men

You'll know no end of giving now and then.

Once, I remember, I with cause complain'd

Of jealousy occasion'd by a friend.

Believe me, apprehensions of that kind

Are not alone to our false sex confin'd.

Trust not too far your she-companion's truth,

Lest she sometimes should intercept the youth;

The very confidant that lends the bed,

May entertain your lover in your stead.

Nor keep a servant with too fair a face,

For such I've known supply her lady's place.

But whither do I run with heedless rage,

Teaching the foe unequal war to wage?

Did ever bird the fowler's net prepare?

Was ever hound instructed by the hare?

But all self-ends and int'rests set apart,

I'll faithfully proceed to teach my art;

Defenceless and unarm'd expose my life,

And for the Lemnian ladies whet the knife.

Perpetual fondness of your lover feign,

Nor will you find it hard belief to gain;

Full of himself, he your design will aid!

To what we wish 'tis easy to persuade.

With dying eyes his face and form survey,

Then sigh, and wonder he so long could stay;

Now, drop a tear your sorrows to assuage,

Anon, reproach him, and pretend to rage.

Such proofs as these will all distrust remove,

And make him pity your excessive love.

Scarce to himself will he forbear to cry,

"How can I let this poor fond creature die?"

But chiefly one such fond behaviour fires,

Who courts his glass, and his own charms admires.

Proud of the homage to his merit done,

He'll think a goddess might with ease be won.