‘Another man’s wife tempted you: a whore caught Davus.
Which of our sins more deserves the gallows? When Nature
Goads me fiercely, she who naked in the lamplight
Feels the flicking of a distended tail, or wildly,
With her buttocks, urges on the stallion she rides,
Won’t send me off disgraced, or anxious lest some richer
Or more handsome rival’s also watering there.
While when you’ve shed your badges of rank, your knight’s ring,
Your Roman clothes, and no longer a worthy, step out
As Dama the servant, hiding your perfumed hair
Under a cowl, aren’t you the slave you pretend to be?
Anxious, you gain admittance, body trembling with fear
That vies with your lust. What matter whether you sell yourself
To be seared by the lash, killed by the sword, or are shut
Shamefully in her mistress’ chest by a knowing maid,
Cowering, with head between your knees? Hasn’t the husband
Of a sinful wife with lawful powers over both, more
Power over her seducer? Not for her to forgo
Her clothes or rank, and take the lead in sinning, since she’s
A woman, frightened, not able to trust a lover.
It’s ‘wise’ you who goes under the yoke, committing
Self, wealth, reputation and life, to her furious lord.’