If a goat’s smell under the arms rightly prevents anyone,
or if a slow gout deservedly cripples them,
your rival, who keeps your lover busy,
is discovered by you to be wonderfully sick with both.
Now whenever he fucks her, you’re revenged on the pair:
she’s troubled by the smell, he’s ruined by the gout.

Si cui iure bono sacer alarum obstitit hircus,
aut si quem merito tarda podagra secat.
Aemulus iste tuus, qui vestrem exercet amorem,
mirifice est a te nactus utrumque malum.
Nam quotiens futuit, totiens ulciscitur ambos:
illam affligit odore, ipse perit podagra.