Once again in this little book the Muse prepares her ornaments and wants to tell fabricated stories at first, remembering that utility cannot clothe the naked truth; she regards it as a weakness of the poet to make straightforward and undisguised statements, and she brings a light touch to literary style and adds beauty to a page that is already heavily colored. “But,” I cried, “in the previous book notice is given that the myths have been put away and that the precepts in the volumes which follow are a work of those Arts which tell that which is the truth.” But with a laugh she joked at this and said: “Let us tell no lies, and yet let the Arts be clothed. Surely you will not give the band of sisters naked to the bridal couple? Surely they will not go like that before the senate of the Thunderer and the heavenly gods? To say no more about embellishment, what is to be the program?” “Surely let them speak on their own teachings, and let them be clothed in incorporeal utterance.” “Now you are deceiving me and are not consistent with your promise; why do you not admit that your work cannot be composed except by the use of imagery?” With these words the Muse got the better of me: “Are you running away?” “I am joining in the game.”
