[De duobus amantibus Euryalo et Lucretia]

A small, detailed ink drawing of a butterfly or moth with spread wings and long antennae is positioned in the left margin of the first column.

"Aristotle, as if a horse, mounted a woman, restrained her with a bridle, and spurred her. Does the power of Caesar equal the gods? It is not as the common people say: majesty and love do not dwell well in the same seat. Who is a greater lover than Caesar? How often has he devoted himself to the works of love? They say that Hercules, who was the strongest and even the offspring of the gods, once laid aside his quiver and lion's skin, took up the distaff, allowed emeralds to be fitted to his fingers, and submitted to the law with his hair unkempt, leading the threads with a hand that was accustomed to wielding a club. This passion is natural. The species feeds the species. The thrush is loved by the green bird, and doves often join themselves in various ways. If I remember the verses that Sappho writes to Phaon in the Heroides Ovid's collection of epistles from mythological heroines, why should I mention the quadrupeds? The beast moves for a mate; timid deer fight; lowing cattle give signs of conceived fury; Hyrcanian tigresses burn; the boar sharpens his teeth with wounding intent; four lions in Poeni move with love; the sea beasts of Pontus burn insanely. Nothing is immune; nothing is denied to love. Love commands the soul to lose hatred. It stirs the ferocious flames of youth and summons extinguished heats back to exhausted senses. It strikes the breast of maidens with an unknown fire. Why, therefore, do I resist the laws of nature? Love conquered all, and we yield to love."

Where this was settled, he sought a go-between to carry wax tablets for the wedding. A trusted companion was his witness, a master skilled in these things. He undertook the task and led the woman to him. When the letters were committed, they were written in this sentiment:

"I would wish health to you, Lucretia, in my writings if there were any supply of health for me, but all hope of my life and solace depends on you. I love you more than I love myself, nor do I think my burning, wounded chest is hidden from you. My face, often wet with tears when I see you, could have been an index to you. I send sighs. Bear with me benignly, I pray, as I open myself to you. Your beauty has captured me and holds me bound, with the exceptional grace of charm that you surpass in all. I did not know what love was before this. You have subjected me to the empire of Cupid. I struggled long, I confess, to flee the violent master, but your splendor conquered my attempts, and the rays of your eyes, by which you are more powerful than the sun, conquered. I am taken, yours, and no longer master of myself. You have taken from me the use of both food and drink. I love you days and nights; I desire you, I call to you, I expect you, I think of you, I hope for you, and from you, I am delighted. My spirit is yours; I am entirely yours. You alone can save me and alone ruin me. Choose which of these you will have me be. I have made myself yours. Do not be harder toward me with your words than you had been with the eyes by which you collected me. I do not ask for anything in deed, even that I may have the opportunity to speak to you. I request only this: that my letters may be able to say what I could say before you. If you give this, I live, and I live happily. If you deny it, you extinguish my heart, which loves you more than it loves me. I commend myself and my faith to you. Farewell, my soul and the subsidy of my life."