Ovid

“ Nor is there a lack of sophistication greater than your rank;
It is likely that you too have felt Cupid’s bow:
Defend the standards of your own army in me.
If she asks how I am, say that I live in hope of night;
The soft wax marked by my persuasive hand tells the rest.
While I speak, time flies: deliver the tablets [to her] when she is quite free,
But nonetheless make sure she reads them immediately.
I order you to study her eye and brow as she reads:
Even from a silent countenance one can know the future. ”