So many conquests proud of having made,
          And over full the book of—­those who’d play’d;
          Said gay Astolphus we will now, my friend,
          Return the shortest road and poaching end;
          If false our mates, yet we’ll console ourselves,
          That many others have inconstant elves. 
          Perhaps, in things a change will be one day,
          And only tender flames love’s torch display;
          But now it seems some evil star presides,
          And Hymen’s flock the devil surely rides. 
          Besides, vile fiends the universe pervade,
          Whose constant aim is mortals to degrade,
          And cheat us to our noses if they can,
          (Hell’s imps in human shape, disgrace to man!)
          Perhaps these wretches have bewitch’d our wives,
          And made us fancy errors in their lives. 
          Then let us like good citizens, our days
          In future pass amidst domestick ways;
          Our absence may indeed restore their hearts,
          For jealousy oft virtuous truths imparts.

          Inthis Astolphus certainly believ’d;
          The friends return’d, and kindly were receiv’d;
          A little scolding first assail’d the ear;
          But blissful kisses banish’d ev’ry fear. 
          To balls and banquets all themselves resigned;
          Of dwarf or valet nothing more we find;
          Each with his wife contentedly remained:—­
          ’Tis thus alone true happiness is gained.

ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS: 

Criticism never stops short nor ever wants for subjects
In the midst of society, he was absent from it
Regarded almost as an imbecile by the crowd
The less of such misfortunes said is best
The promises of kings are airy dreams
Who only make friends in order to gain voices in their favour
Who would wish to reduce Boccaccio to the same modesty as Virgil
Wife beautiful, witty and chaste woman, who drove him to despair

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