Brother, hello and good-bye. Frater, ave atque vale
I write of youth, of love, and have access by these to sing of cleanly wantonness.
There is nothing more silly than a silly laugh.
Oh, this age! How tasteless and ill bred it is!
The vows that woman makes to her fond lover are only fit to be written on air or on the swiftly passing stream.
So a maiden, whilst she remains untouched, so long is she dear to her own; when she has lost her chaste flower with sullied body, she remains neither lovely to boys nor dear to girls.