As Donald Sterling tried to explain to Anderson Cooper, what he was attempting to say to V. Stiviano about her Instagram account was:
Since you are lovely, I know, of course that I can’t stop you from cheating;
All that I hope for, at best, is not to know when you do.
I am no censor to say that you always have to be decent:
Still, I wish you would try, or at least pretend that you are.
She who denies her guilt is never utterly guilty —
Only the guilt confessed brings the disgrace to her name.
What kind of madness is this, to broadcast the most intimate secrets,
Letting the light of day flood the events of the night?
Even the commonest tart receives her lovers with caution,
Keeping the people away, sliding the bolt on the door.
You, on the other hand, delight in the role of informer;
Scandal that implicates you, you are the first to make known.
Have better sense, or, at least, pretend to be one of the modest;
Let me think you behave, no matter what you may do. …
Lie to the people, to me; fool me, but don’t let me know it;
Let my folly enjoy all of its ignorant bliss.
Ovid, The Loves, Book III, Elegy XIV, c. 16 B.C.
Translation by Rolfe Humphries