PHILOCHORUS TO POLYANEUS
by: Aristaenetus
- S Hippias
t'other day and I
- Walk'd arm and arm, he said,
- "That pretty creature dost thou spy,
- Who leans upon her maid?
-
- "She's tall, and has a comely shape,
- And treads well, too, I swear:
- Come on--by this good light we'll scrape
- Acquaintance with the fair."
-
- "Good God!" cried I, "she is not game,
- I'm sure, for you or me:
- Do nothing rashly--you're to blame;
- She's modest, you may see."
-
- But he, who knew all womankind,
- Thus answer'd with a sneer:
- "You're quite a novice, friend, I find--
- There's nothing modest here.
-
- "A virtuous dame this hour, no doubt
- Would choose to walk the streets;
- Especially so dizen'd out,
- And smile on all she meets.
-
- "Her rings, her bracelets, her perfumes
- Her wanton actions, prove
- The character which she assumes,
- And that her trade is love.
-
- "See now, she fidgets with her vest--
- To settle it, be sure,
- And not at all to show her breast,
- Nor wishing to allure.
-
- "Her robe tuck'd up with nicest care--
- But that's to show she's neat;
- And though her legs are half-way bare,
- She means to hide her feet.
-
- "But see! she turns to look behind,
- And laughs, I'll take my oath:
- Come on--I warrant we shall find
- The damsel nothing loth."
-
- So up he march'd, and made his bow--
- No sooner off his hat,
- But, lover-like, he 'gan to vow,
- And soon grew intimate.
-
- But first premised the ways were rough--
- "Madam, for fear of harm,
- I beg"--so cleverly enough
- He made her take his arm.
-
- Then--"Fairest, for thy beauty's sake,
- Which long has fired my breast,
- Permit me to your maid to make
- A single short request!
-
- "And yet you know what I'd require,
- And wherefore I apply:
- Nought unrequited I desire,
- But gold the boon shall buy.
-
- "I'll give, my fairest, what you please--
- You'll not exact, I'm sure:
- Then deign, bright charmer, deign to ease
- The torments I endure."
-
- Assent sat smiling in her eyes;
- Her lily hand he seized;
- Nor feign'd she very great surprise,
- Nor look'd so much displeased.
-
- She blush'd a little too, methought,
- As though she should refuse--
- But women, I've been told, are taught
- To blush whene'er they choose.
-
- Hippias was now quite hand in glove,
- With Miss, and firmly bent
- To take her to the bower of Love,
- He whisper'd as he went--
-
- "Well, Phil, say now whose judgment's best?
- Was I so very wrong?
- You saw, not eagerly I press'd,
- Nor did I press her long.
-
- "But you are ignorant, I see,
- So follow and improve;
- For few, I ween, can teach like me
- The mysteries of Love."
-
- TRANSLATED BY RICHARD BRINSLEY
SHERIDAN (1751-1816) AND MR. HALHED
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