And there was a case in Colchis, Jason and that woman in Colchis;

And besides, Lynceus,

you were drunk.

Could you endure such promiscuity?

She was not renowned for fidelity;

But to jab a knife in my vitals, to have passed on a swig of poison,

Preferable, my dear boy, my dear Lynceus,

Comrade, comrade of my life, of my purse, of my person;

But in one bed, in one bed alone, my dear Lynceus

I deprecate your attendance;

I would ask a like boon of Jove.

And you write of Achelöus, who contended with Hercules,

You write of Adrastus’ horses and the funeral rites of Achenor,

And you will not leave off imitating Aeschylus.

Though you make a hash of Antimachus,

You think you are going to do Homer.

And still a girl scorns the gods,

Of all these young women

not one has enquired the cause of the world,

Nor the modus of lunar eclipses

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