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Ovid - Duplicity
Work rating: Low

i 

Then must I always bear your endless accusations? 
They all prove false, but still I have to fight them.
If I happen to glance at the marble theater`s topmost row, 
you pick some girl in the crowd to moan about; 
or if a beautiful woman looks at me wordlessly, 
you charge she`s using lovers` wordless signs.
If I compliment a girl, you try to tear out my hair; 
if I criticize one, you think I`ve got something to hide.
If I look well, I love no one - not even you; 
if I`m pale, you say that I`m pining for someone else.
I wish I really had committed some such sin: 
punishment hurts less when you deserve it; 
but as it is, your wild indictments at every turn
themselves forbid your wrath to have much weight.
Think of the little long-eared donkey`s wretched lot: 
continual beatings only make him stubborn.
Now look, here`s another charge: Cypassis, your coiffeuse, 
is cast at me for defiling her mistress`s bed! 
The gods forbid that I, even if I yearned to sin, 
should find delight in a slave-girl`s lowly lot! 
What man, being free, would want a servile liaison, 
or wish to embrace a body the whip has scarred? 
And furthermore, the girl`s your personal beautician, 
and valued by you because of her skillful hands.
Is it likely that I`d approach such a trusted serving-maid? 
What would I get, but rejection and exposure? 
By Venus and by the bow of her swift boy I swear, 
you`ll never find me guilty of that crime.

ii

Cypassis, expert at dressing the hair in a thousand ways
(but you ought to arrange the tresses of goddesses only) 
you that I`ve found quite polished in stolen ecstasy, 
fit for your mistress`s service, but fitter for mine, 
whoever was it that told of our bodies joining together? 
Where did Corinna learn of our affair? 
Could I have blushed? Or slipped by a single word to give
some sign that has betrayed our furtive joys? 
And what of it, if I argued that nobody could transgress
with a servant, except for a man who was out of his mind
The Thessalian burned with passion for lovely Briseis, a servant; 
the Mycenean leader loved Apollo`s slave.
I`m no greater man than Achilles, or the scion of Tantalus.
How can what`s fine for kings be foul for me? 
And yet, when your mistress turned her glowering eyes on you, 
I saw a deep blush spread all over your face.
But how much more possessed I was, if you recall, 
I swore my faith by Venus`s great godhead! 
(You, goddess, bid, I pray, the warm Southwind to blow
those innocent lies across the Carpathian sea.) 
Now give me a sweet return for the favor I did you then, 
by bedding with me, you dusky Cypassis, today.
Don`t shake your head, you ingrate, pretending you`re still afraid: 
you can please one of your masters, and that`s enough.
If you`re silly enough to refuse, I`ll confess all that we`ve done, 
making myself the betrayer of my own crime, 
and I`ll tell your mistress how often we met, Cypassis, and where, 
and how many times we did it, and how many ways!
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