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Link to an image of this page  Link to an image of this page  [N1v p194]

Ferè simile ex Theocrito.[1]

Something more or less the same from Theocritus

Alveolis dum mella legit, percussit Amorem
Furacem mala apes, & summis spicula liquit
In digitis: tumido gemit at puer anxius ungue,
Et quatit errabundus humum, Venerique dolorem
Indicat, & graviter queritur, quòd apicula parvum
Ipsa inferre animal tam noxia vulnera possit.
Cui ridens Venus, hanc imitaris tu quoque dixit
Nate feram, qui das tot noxia vulnera parvus.

While he was taking honey from the hives, a vicious bee stung thieving Amor, and left its sting in the end of his finger. The boy in distress cried out as his finger-end swelled up. He ran about, stamping his foot, showed his hurt to Venus, and complained bitterly that a little bee, that tiny creature, could inflict such grievous wounds. Venus smiled at him and said, “You are like this creature, my son; small as you are you deal many a grievous wound”.

Link to an image of this page  Link to an image of this page  [N2r p195]

Presque se [=le] semblable au precedent,
compris de Theocrite.

Cupido chast du meil desrobe,
La mouche a miel surce le pique.
Il va puis, il vient, puis ne hobe,
Frappant du pied en fantasticque:
Ha dit il, ma mere impudicque,
Je meurs sans que eusse sceu penser,
Que si peu de corps mellificque,
Eust peu tant asprement blesser.
Aultrement.
Cupido yvrognet & chast,
Roba du miel pour sa pasture:
Mais pas nadvient quil y touchast,
Sans soudain recepvoir poincture:
Venus le ot crier daventure,
Lors dit, Regarde donc foireux,
Si telle petite creature
Te ard, que fais tu aux amoureux.[2]

Notes:

1.  3rd-century BC bucolic poet, who may or may not have wrriten the Idylls (19, The Honey Stealer), of which this is a fairly close translation, in dactylic hexameters, as in the Greek original.

2.  These French verses were not in the 1536 edition.


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Link to an image of this page  Link to an image of this page  [E6v]

IN RECEPTATORES
siccariorum.

Those who harbour cut-throats

Latronum furumque manus tibi scaeva[1] per urbem,
It comes, & diris cincta cohors gladiis.
Atque ita te mentis generosum prodige censes,
Quod tua complureîs allicit olla malos.
En novus Actaeon qui postquam cornua sumpsit,
In praedam canibus se dedit ipse suis.[2]

An evil-minded band of ruffians and thieves accompanies you about the city, a gang of supporters armed with lethal swords. And so, you wastrel, you consider yourself a fine lordly fellow because your cooking pot draws in crowds of scoundrels. - Here’s a fresh Actaeon - he, after he grew his horns, became the prey of his own hunting dogs.

Notes:

1.  Scaeva, ‘evil-minded’. The capital letter in later editions suggests that the Latin word could be taken as a proper name in the vocative case, i.e addressing one Scaeva.

2.  For the story of Actaeon turned into a stag and killed by his own hounds, see Ovid, Metamorphoses 3.138ff. Similarly, the hangers-on will destroy the one who has fed them.


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