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THE TORN DRESS<br />
Ho! by the two goddesses, who is the brute who put his foot upon my dress? --One<br />
who loves you. --He's a blockhead. --I was clumsy, pardon me.<br />
The idiot! my yellow dress is all torn up the back, and if I walk the streets like<br />
this they'll take me for a wretched girl who serves inverted Venus.<br />
--Won't you stop? --I think he still is speaking to me! --Are you going to leave me<br />
when you are so angry? . . . you will not answer? Alas! I dare not say another<br />
word.<br />
--I surely must go home to change my dress. --And mayn't I come with you? --Who<br />
is your father? --He's the rich ship--owner, Nikias. --You have lovely eyes, I<br />
pardon you.<br />
JEWELS<br />
A diadem <strong>of</strong> pierced gold crowns my white and narrow forehead. Five golden<br />
chainlets, hung from cheek to cheek, swing from my hair by two large golden<br />
hasps.<br />
Upon my arms, which Iris 130 herself would envy, thirteen silver bracelets rise in<br />
tiers. How heavy they are! But these are weapons; I know an enemy who has felt<br />
their weight.<br />
I am truly clothed in gold. My breasts are cased beneath two golden plates. The<br />
statues <strong>of</strong> the gods are not all as rich as I am.<br />
And I wear about my heavy robe, a girdle worked with silver. You can read these<br />
verses on it: "Love me always; but do not be unhappy if I should deceive you<br />
thrice a day."<br />
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