Tell her that, Dorcas; tell her everything over, Dorcas, a second and a third time.
Run, don't linger, fly!
A moment, Dorcas! Wait just a moment.
Why do you hurry off, Dorcas, before you have heard all I have to say?
Add to what I said before — or rather (why am I such a fool?) say nothing at all — but only — say everything, be sure you say everything.
What use is there in sending you, Dorcas? I go with you and arrive there before you!

Are lovers full of fire?
How comes it then my verses are so cold?
And how, when I am nigh her,
And fit occasion wills me to be bold,
The more I burn, the more I do desire,
The less I dare require?
Ah love! this is thy wond'rous art,
To freeze the tongue, and fire the heart.

ANSWER TO HER QUESTION, WHAT LOVE WAS .

If I behold your eyes,
Love is a paradise:
But if I view my heart,
'Tis an infernal smart.

F RAGMENT

Think not that with Kevser's praises hearts become of joy full;
Preacher, rather doth the tale of mouth and kiss the soul rule.
Thinking of her rubies red, whene'er I drink tobacco,
The nargila's a flask of wine, the pipe-bowl is a sumbul.
Know how holy is her land: — who dwelleth in Edirna,
Ere he to the Ka'ba bends, doth turn him to Istambul.

Let him be sold as he sleeps in his mother's arms, let him be sold! Why should such a wastrel be nourished?
He was born snub-nosed and winged; he scratches savagely with his nails, he laughs and cries at once; moreover he is obstinate, ever-talking, sharp-sighted, wild, and not even gentle to his mother. A complete monster.
Let him be sold. If any merchant, just about to sail, wishes to buy a slave, let him step forward.
But see! he begs, he weeps! I will not sell you! Be happy, you shall stay and grow up near Zenophile.

I make a proclamation after wild Love, who flew from my bed this very morning.
He is a child, causing-sweet-tears, ever-talking, sharp, fearless, laughing with wrinkled nose, winged on his back and carrying a quiver.
I cannot tell who was his father, for neither the Air, the Earth nor the Sea would boast of begetting him; everywhere and by every one he is hated. Take care he does not set new snares in your souls!
But look! there he is in his lair. I see you, little arrowshooter, hiding in Zenophile's eyes!

Terrible — O Love, you are terrible!
What use is it for me to lament, saying again and again: " Love is terrible " ? He laughs at me; he is glad to be abused; he feeds upon curses!
It is a marvel to me, Aphrodite, how you who were born from the hoary sea, brought forth fire from water!

You sleep, Zenophile, a slender branch.
If only now I could enter your eyelids like wingless Sleep so that not even he who enchants the eyes of Zeus should enter you but I alone possess you!

Morning Star, enemy of lovers, why do you move so slowly around the earth now that another is warm under Demo's bedcover?
When I held her loveliness in my arms you came swiftly, shedding light as if in mockery of me!

Morning Star, enemy of lovers, why do you stand by the bed when I am just warm on the breast of my loved Demo?
Turn back your swift course and become the Evening Star, O you who shed so sweet a light so bitter to me!
Before now you came against Zeus with Alcmene and you are not ignorant of how to turn back.