num me laetitia tumefactum fallis inani, haec referens, quae me credere velle putas? sicin eram incomptis vidisti flere capillis? illius ex oculis multa cadebat aqua? nec speculum in strato vidisti, Lygdame, lecto, scriniaque ad lecti clausa iacere pedes, ac maestam teneris vestem pendere lacertis? ornabat niveas nullane gemma manus? tristis erat domus, et tristes sua pensa ministrae carpebant, medio nebat et ipsa loco, umidaque impressa siccabat lumina lana, rettulit et querulo iurgia nostra sono?.
I hope you will not deceive me, and fill me with baseless joy, reporting what you think I wish to believe. So you saw your mistress weeping and with hair awry, a flood of tears streaming from her eyes? And on the bedcover you saw no mirror, Lygdamus, and at the foot of the bed her toilet-box lying locked? So her dress hung forlornly from her delicate arms, and no jewel adorned her snow-white hands? So the house was sad, and sad the maidservants as they picked their wool, she spinning in their midst, and she pressed the wool to her eyes to dry them as she poured forth reproaches of me in plaintive tone?
final_alignments\Propertius_Elegies_Book3.json