[De duobus amantibus Euryalo et Lucretia]

Sosias, terrified by this voice, said, "Moderate the unrestrained impulses of your mind, mistress. Restrain your spirits. You are worthy of life, though you think yourself worthy of death."

"It is decided," said Lucretia, "to die. The crime committed has brought me to the point of avenging myself with the sword."

"I, ignorant of these things," Sosias replied, "have come to death..." The text here appears to be a repetitive OCR error from the manuscript. "What kind of death do you seek? By noose, by steel, by precipice, by poison? It is permitted to vindicate chastity; I will pursue this one thing."

"I will not suffer it," said Sosias.

But Lucretia answered, "If someone decides to die, they cannot be forbidden. When the life of Procia, wife of Brutus, was taken from her after Cato's death, she drank burning coals. If a similar madness lies in your mind, your life must be saved from the fame that is often deceptive, which sometimes makes the better appear worse."

"Let us try this Eurialus," said Sosias, "and devote ourselves to love. This will be my labor, and if I am not mistaken, I will give you the finished task." With these words, he inflamed her soul with love and gave hope to a wavering mind. But he had no intention of doing what he said. He sought to delay the mind and diminish the madness, just as time often extinguishes flames and days remove sickness. Sosias thought to deceive the girl with false joys until either Caesar left or her mind changed, fearing that if he refused, she would seek another messenger or bring death upon herself.

Therefore, he often pretended to go and return, and he spoke of the time and place they could meet, and of how she was enjoying her love. Sometimes he said there was no opportunity to speak, and other times he said he was being sent out of the city, delaying the joy. Thus, for many days he fed her sick mind. And so as not to lie entirely, once he only approached Eurialus while the latter was occupied. He said, "You are loved here." He did not answer when asked what this meant.

But Eurialus was suspended in desire. He gave no rest to his limbs. A furtive fire devastated his veins and completely consumed his marrow. Yet Sosias did not know this, nor did he think Lucretia had been sent, for we all have less of hope than of desire. When he saw himself burning, he marveled at his own prudence and frequently rebuked himself.

"Behold, Eurialus," he said, "you know the symptoms of love: long griefs, brief smiles, small joys, great fears. He who loves is always dying and is never dead. Why do you mingle yourself in these yokes again?"

But when he realized he was struggling in vain against love, he said, "May it be allowed to me what was allowed to Julius, to Alexander, to Hannibal, men of arms. Look at the poets. Virgilius was pulled up by a rope and hung in the middle of a tower while he hoped to enjoy the embraces of a little woman. Should one have considered the poet an author of a wanton life? What shall we say of the masters of the disciplines and the arts of living well?"