# Ancient and Modern Pederasty Investigated and Exemplify'd/Eumolpus

paraphrase of Satyricon chapters 85–87
We commonly conceive the P-th-c’s Part disagreeable; But Petronius, whose Experience is hardly questionable, represents him sharing in the accurst Rapture. This Master of the Pleasures to Nero introduces a P-th-c, who, over and over enj-y’d urges on the detestable Lewdness. All the Story is so high Colour’d, and Strikes with such strong Delineation, I shall present it to the Reader. It is related by Eumolpus, (a Soldier turn’d Poet,) as happening to himself.
    When I was drafted by the Quæstor into Asia, I took up my Quarters at Pergamus; where being delighted with my Situation, not only upon Account of the elegant Dwelling, but of the all-surpassing Beauty of my Host’s son, I manag’d to render the Passion, already glowing in my Swoln Veins, unsuspected by the Father: The Discourse never fell upon the Ven-r-al use of Boys, that I was not all Indignation, and perform’d the execrating Part so well, pathetically resenting the very Sound shou’d violate my Ears, that I blinded every Body, and particularly was regarded by the Mother, as one of your Supernatural Stoics. The Boy, the priceless Gem, is soon entrusted to me: I order his Studies; accompany him to the Schools, and make a great Point with the Parents, that no Pederast sets foot within the Doors. A Festival suspends our literary Ardor. The Mirth of the Day having exhausted our Spirits, we lay down upon a Couch, not caring to undress. About Midnight I find the Boy awake; when, with Desire and Apprehension all-trembling in the most timid Murmur I make a Supplication;
       Love-inspiring Goddess, by thy heart-bowing Divinity I swear, if I kiss this Boy, unperceiv’d by him, I will present him with a choice Pair of Doves To-morrow.
    The Words are scarce dropt, when he Affects a Snore. The Nectar of Kisses is all my own. I attempt no further: in the Morning come with my Doves to the expecting Beauty. At Night this is my Address;
       O Venus, if I feel this Charming Creature, feel him with an uncontroul’d Hand, a Couple of thoroughbred Game-cocks To-morrow shall be his.
    The sweet Youngster hearing what I bid for the Joy, moves Insensibly towards me, afraid, I suppose, of my falling asleep in Reality: But I quickly reassure him, and slide my Hand over his delicious Body; ’till grasping L-ve’s Bolt, spurt myself away, plunging in a Gulph of unutterable Delight. I rise at Daybreak, fulfill my vow, and exalt the Hue of my Bloomer’s Cheeks. But it is not only the Gift, that warms these living Peaches; a new Soul-stealing Desire, raised by my rambling Touches, makes itself felt within and diffuses over him a Strength of Lustre beyond Description, and even Imagination. The wonted Appearance he as much outlooks, as breathing Forms excel the lifeless Canvass. His Features are in full Play, and such a Grace dignifys his least Motion, that, upon strict Consideration I pronounce the Star-glowing Sky an inferior Object. Night with numberless Throbs expected at length arrives. Faint from longing Ardors, I raise myself to the Ear of the seeming Sleeper, and in faltering Accents whisper my fervent vow;
       Immortal Rulers of the World. If I have the Enj-ym-nt of this adorable Boy, I will give him To-morrow an Excellent Macedonian Gennet: But Still upon Condition, he knows Nothing of the Matter.
    The dear Rogue appears immerst in Sleep: So first I fill my Grasp with his milk white Breasts; presently cleave to him in a Kiss of all Parts; then each fond Wish to one fierce Point contract. My Joys launch into Inexpressibleness: expiring and recovering I rush to expire anew upon the dissolving lovely Dissolver. All Morning my Charmer stays at Home, looking out every Minute for the Gennet. But a Dove is one Thing, and a Horse is an other. Besides I am a good deal apprehensive, such a Present will open Eyes upon the real Motive of my Liberality; wherefore keep Sauntering up and down without going near our House: But at last, not able to support the Boy’s Absence, return and lose my Soul in Embraces: the lovely Creature’s Emition is little Short of mine; yet soon the confounded Galloper comes into his Head, and with his Arms round my Neck he says;
       where’s the Horse, Sir?
    I am quite out of Favour about this for a while: But a second Festival having plac’d us as before, the Father in a Loud Snore upon another Couch, I implore his Forgiveness; beg, he will permit himself to be gratify’d and the Dictates of Bursting L-st to be obey’d. He in an ill Humour crys;
       go to Sleep or I’ll tell Father.
    Resolution carries all it’s Points: I invade the Half-resister, while he threatens, and ravish a repeated Joy. Not displeased at the amorous Violence, he yet complains of my Want of Real Affection; tells me, he is the Jest of his School-fellows, to whom he had boasted my promise: But, concludes, to shew you, I am not like you, do it again, if you have a Mind. Happy to come off so easily, I wreathe my Arms about his delicate Body, imprint a thousand hungry Kisses, and, emerging spout: Then sink in gentle Sleep’s reviving Down. But all this does not satisfy the Boy, who is of that Maturity, which loves to take it: I am soon wak’d with,
       won’t you have a Bout?
    The Office is not yet grown troublesome: moiling a little I give him what he wants, and recompose myself, now jaded with Bliss. An Hour does not intervene, ere he hunches me; let us do it. Disturbed at this Rate, I out-right flame, returning him his own Words;
       go to Sleep, or I’ll tell Father.