In cuckoldom he took his full degrees;
          The horse he daily mounted at his ease,
          And so delighted with his bargain seemed,
          Three days, to prove it, requisite he deemed. 
          The country house received him ev’ry night;
          At home he never dreamed but all was right.

What numbers round, whom Fortune favours less;
Have got a wife, but not a horse possess;
And, what yet still more wond’rous may appear,
Know ey’ry thing that passes with their dear.

The Ephesian matron

[Note:  See Chapters 111 & 112 from The Satyricon by
Petronius Arbiter.  DW]

If there’s a tale more common than the rest,
The one I mean to give is such confessed. 
Why choose it then? you ask; at whose desire? 
Hast not enough already tuned thy lyre? 
What favour can thy matron now expect,
Since novelty thou clearly dost neglect? 
Besides, thou’lt doubtless raise the critick’s rage. 
See if it looks more modern in my page.

          AtEphesus, in former times, once shone,
          A fair, whose charms would dignify a throne;
          And, if to publick rumour credit ’s due,
          Celestial bliss her husband with her knew. 
          Naught else was talked of but her beauteous face,
          And chastity that adds the highest grace;
          From ev’ry quarter numbers flocked to see
          This belle, regarded as from errors free. 
          The honour of her sex, and country too;
          As such, old mothers held her up to view,
          And wished their offspring’s wives like her to act: 
          The sons desired the very same in fact;
          From her, beyond a doubt, our prudes descend,
          An ancient, celebrated house, depend.

          Thespouse adored his beauteous charming wife: 
          But soon, alas! he lost his precious life;
          ’Twere useless on particulars to dwell: 
          His testament, indeed, provided well
          For her he loved on earth to fond excess,
          Which, ’yond a doubt, would have relieved distress;
          Could gold a cherished husband’s loss repair,
          That filled her soul with black corroding care.

          A widow, howsoever, oft appears
          Distracted ’mid incessant floods of tears,
          Who thoroughly her int’rest recollects,
          And, spite of sobs, her property inspects.

          OurMatron’s cries were loudly heard around,
          And feeling bosoms shuddered at the sound;
          Though, we, on these occasions, truly know,
          The plaint is always greater than the woe. 
          Some ostentation ever is with grief
          Those who weep most the soonest gain relief.