CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SECOND.
The loveliness of her form drew me to her and summoned me to love. Our lips were pressed together in a torrent of smacking kisses, our groping hands had discovered every trick of excitation, and our bodies, clasped in a mutual embrace, had fused our souls into one, (and then, in the very midst of these ravishing preliminaries my nerves again played me false and I was unable to last until the instant of supreme bliss.) Lashed to fury by these inexcusable affronts, the lady at last ran to avenge herself and, calling her house servants, she gave orders for me to be hoisted upon their shoulders and flogged; then, still unsatisfied with the drastic punishment she had inflicted upon me, she called all the spinning women and scrubbing wenches in the house and ordered them to spit upon me. I covered my face with my hands but I uttered no complaint as I well knew what I deserved and, overwhelmed with blows and spittle, I was driven from the house. Proselenos was kicked out too, Chrysis was beaten, and all the slaves grumbled among themselves and wondered what had upset their mistress's good humor. I took heart after having given some thought to my misfortunes and, artfully concealing the marks of the blows for fear that Eumolpus would make merry over my mishaps or, worse yet, that Giton might be saddened by my disgrace, I did the only thing I could do to save my self-respect, I pretended that I was sick and went to bed. There, I turned the full fury of my resentment against that recreant which had been the sole cause of all the evil accidents which had befallen me.
Three times I grasped the two-edged blade The recreant to cut away; Three times by Fear my hand was stayed And palsied Terror said me nay That which I might have done before 'Twas now impossible to do; For, cold with Fear, the wretch withdrew Into a thousand-wrinkled mare, And shrank in shame before my gaze Nor would his head uncover more. But though the scamp in terror skulked, With words I flayed him as he sulked.
Raising myself upon my elbow I rebuked the shirker in some such terms as these: "What have you to say for yourself, you disgrace to gods and men," I demanded, "for your name must never be mentioned among refined people. Did I deserve to be lifted up to heaven and then dragged down to hell by you? Was it right for you to slander my flourishing and vigorous years and land me in the shadows and lassitude of decrepit old age? Give me some sign, however faint, I beg of you, that you have returned to life!" I vented my anger in words such as these.
His eyes were fixed, and with averted look He stood, less moved by any word of mine Than weeping willows bending o'er a brook Or drooping poppies as at noon they pine.
When I had made an end of this invective, so out of keeping with good taste, I began to do penance for my soliloquy and blushed furtively because I had so far forgotten my modesty as to invoke in words that part of my body which men of dignity do not even recognize. Then, rubbing my forehead for a long time, "Why have I committed an indiscretion in relieving my resentment by natural abuse," I mused, "what does it amount to? Are we not accustomed to swear at every member of the human body, the belly, throat, or even the head when it aches, as it often does? Did not Ulysses wrangle with his own heart? Do not the tragedians 'Damn their eyes' just as if they could hear?
"Gouty patients swear at their feet, rheumatics at their hands, blear-eyed people at their eyes, and do not those who often stub their toes blame their feet for all their pain?
"Why will our Catos with their frowning brows Condemn a work of fresh simplicity'? A cheerful kindness my pure speech endows; What people do, I write, to my capacity. For who knows not the pleasures Venus gives? Who will not in a warm bed tease his members? Great Epicurus taught a truth that lives; Love and enjoy life! All the rest is embers.
"Nothing can be more insincere than the silly prejudices of mankind, and nothing sillier than the morality of bigotry,"
CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-THIRD.
I called Giton when I had finished my meditation: "Tell me, little brother," I demanded, "tell me, on your honor: Did Ascyltos stay awake until he had exacted his will of you, the night he stole you away from me? Or was he content to spend the night like a chaste widow?" Wiping his eyes the lad, in carefully chosen words took oath that Ascyltos had used no force against him. (The truth of the matter is, that I was so distraught with my own misfortunes that I knew not what I was saying. "Why recall past memories which can only cause pain," said I to myself. I then directed all my energies towards the recovery of my lost manhood. To achieve this I was ready even to devote myself to the gods; accordingly, I went out to invoke the aid of Priapus.) {Putting as good a face upon the matter as I could} I knelt upon the threshold of his shrine and invoked the God in the following verses:
"Of Bacchus and the nymphs, companion boon, Whom fair Dione set o'er forests wide As God: whom Lesbos and green Thasos own For deity, whom Lydians, far and wide Adore through all the seasons of the year; Whose temple in his own Hypaepa placed, Thou Dryad's joy and Bacchus', hear my prayer! To thee I come, by no dark blood disgraced, No shrine, in wicked lust have I profaned; When I was poor and worn with want, I sinned Not by intent, a pauper's sin's not banned As of another! Unto thee I pray Lift thou the load from off my tortured mind, Forgive a light offense! When fortune smiles I'll not thy glory shun and leave behind Thy worship! Unto thee, a goat that feels His primest vigor, father of the flocks Shall come! And suckling pigs, the tender young Of some fine grunting sow! New wine, in crocks Shall foam! Thy grateful praises shall be sung By youths who thrice shall dance around thy shrine Happy, in youth and full of this year's wine!"
While I was engaged in this diplomatic effort in behalf of the affected member, a hideous crone with disheveled hair, and clad in black garments which were in great disorder, entered the shrine and, laying hands upon me, led me {thoroughly frightened,} out into the portico.
CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FOURTH.
"What witches" (she cried,) "have devoured your manhood? What filth did you tread upon at some crossroads, in the dark? Not even by the boy could you do your duty but, weak and effeminate, you are worn out like a cart-horse at a hill, you have lost both labor and sweat! Not content with getting yourself into trouble, you have stirred up the wrath of the gods against me {and I will make you smart for it."} She then led me, unresisting, back into the priestess's room, pushed me down upon the bed, snatched a cane that hung upon the door, and gave me another thrashing: I remained silent and, had the cane not splintered at the first stroke, thereby diminishing the force of the blow, she might easily have broken my arms or my head. I groaned dismally, and especially when she manipulated my member and, shedding a flood of tears, I covered my head with my right arm and huddled down upon the pillow. Nor did she weep less bitterly:
The sailor, naked from his foundered barque, Some shipwrecked mariner seeks out to hear his woe; When hail beats down a farmer's crop, his cark Seeks consolation from another, too. Death levels caste and sufferers unites, And weeping parents are as one in grief; We also will beseech the starry heights, United prayers climb best, is the belief.
She seated herself upon the other side of the bed and in quavering tones commenced to accuse the delays of old age. At last the priestess came in. "Why," she cried, "what has brought you into my cell as if you were visiting a newly made grave? And on a feast-day, too, when even mourners ought to smile!" "OEnothea," the old hag replied, "this young man here was born under an unlucky star: he can't dispose of his goods to either boy or girl. Such an unfortunate fellow you never saw. He has no tool at all, only a piece of leather soaked in water! I wish you would tell me what you think of a man who could get up from Circe's bed without having tasted pleasure!" On hearing these words, OEnothea sat down between us and, after shaking her head for a while, "I'm the only one that knows how to cure that disease," said she, "and for fear you think I'm talking to hear myself talk, I'll just have the young fellow sleep with me for a night, and if I don't make it as hard as horn!