Woe is me, for you who guard my mistress are neither male nor female; you can never know the mutual joys of Venus. The fellow who first gelded a boy should suffer the same injury himself!
If you’d felt the glow love toward either sex, you’d be indulgent and kindly toward those begging you. You weren’t born to ride horses nor are you suited for bold arms; the warlike spear isn’t shaped to your right hand. That work is for men.
You must set aside manly dreams and bear aloft the standards of your mistress. If your deeds satisfy her, then her thanks will well repay you. If you fail her, though, who else is there to help you?
Her beauty and youth are meant for loving games; it’d be a crime if that body were to waste away from dull neglect. Besides, she’ll be able to deceive you even if you try to put yourself in her way: what she and I both wish will come about regardless.
We prefer to ask first: grant us our wish while you still have time to profit by your assent.