CONTUMELIA
friend of the same ancient profession, accuses her sister of alienating her lover’s affections. I avail myself of Sheridan’s masterly version.
PHILANIS TO PETALA.
As yesterday I went to dine
With Pamphilus, a swain of mine,
I took my sister, little heeding
The net I for myself was spreading:
Though many circumstances led
To prove she’d mischief in her head.
For first her dress in every part
Was studied with the nicest art:
Deck’d out with necklaces and rings,
And twenty other foolish things;
And she had curl’d and bound her hair
With more than ordinary care:
And then, to show her youth the more,
A light, transparent robe she wore—
From head to heel she seemed t’admire
In raptures all her fine attire:
And often turn’d aside to view
If others gazed with rapture too.—
At dinner, grown more bold and free,
She parted Pamphilus and me;
For veering round unheard, unseen,
She slily drew her chair between.
Then with alluring, am’rous smiles
And nods and other wanton wiles,
The unsuspecting youth insnared,
And rivall’d me in his regard.—
Next she affectedly would sip
The liquor that had touched his lip.
With Pamphilus, a swain of mine,
I took my sister, little heeding
The net I for myself was spreading:
Though many circumstances led
To prove she’d mischief in her head.
For first her dress in every part
Was studied with the nicest art:
Deck’d out with necklaces and rings,
And twenty other foolish things;
And she had curl’d and bound her hair
With more than ordinary care:
And then, to show her youth the more,
A light, transparent robe she wore—
From head to heel she seemed t’admire
In raptures all her fine attire:
And often turn’d aside to view
If others gazed with rapture too.—
At dinner, grown more bold and free,
She parted Pamphilus and me;
For veering round unheard, unseen,
She slily drew her chair between.
Then with alluring, am’rous smiles
And nods and other wanton wiles,
The unsuspecting youth insnared,
And rivall’d me in his regard.—
Next she affectedly would sip
The liquor that had touched his lip.
417
