She, to herself, remarked, ’tis very strange,
          This lad’s demeanour should so quickly change;
          He’s quite another character, ’tis clear;
          What pity that his end should be so near;
          Alas! he merits not so hard a fate;
          I feel regret the lot should him await;
          And while soft pleasure seems his heart’s delight;
          His soul is doomed from hence to take its flight.

          Thehusband who so fully gave consent,
          Was led his partner’s suff’rings to lament
          The spirit of a queen in truth she showed,
          When cuckoldom was on her spouse bestowed;
          In decoration, forced to acquiesce,
          She would not condescend to join caress.

          Lucretiahowsoe’er the lad approved;
          His winning manners much her favour moved.

          Whenhe the subtle venom had subdued,
          He took her hand, and having fondly sued,
          Said he, your pardon lady now I ask;
          Be not displeased when I remove the mask;
          Your rage restrain; a trick on you’s been played;
          Calimachus am I; be not dismayed;
          Approve my sacrifice; the secret’s known;
          Your rigour would be useless now if shown;
          Should I be doomed howe’er to breathe my last,
          I die content, rememb’ring what has passed;
          You have the means my life at will to take;
          More havock with me soft delight could make,
          Than any poison that the draught possessed;
          Mere folly, imposition, all the rest.

          Tillthen Lucretia had resistance made;
          To seem submissive she was still afraid;
          The lover was not hated by the belle,
          But bashfulness she could not well dispel,
          Which, joined to simple manners mixed with fear,
          Ungrateful made her, spite of self, appear.

          Insilence wrapt, and scarcely drawing breath,
          By passion moved, and yet ashamed to death,
          Not knowing how to act, so great her grief,
          From tears, her throbbing bosom sought relief. 
          Look, could she e’er her lover in the face? 
          Will he not think me covered with disgrace? 
          Said she, within herself;—­what else believe? 
          My wits were lost to let him thus deceive. 
          O’ercome by sorrow, then she turned her head,
          And tried to hide herself within the bed,
          At furthest end, but vain alas her aim,
          The lover thither in a moment came: 
          Her only ground, remaining unsubdued,
          Surrendered when the vanquisher pursued,
          Who every thing submitted to his will,
          And tears no more her eyes were found to fill;
          Shame took to flight, and scruples spread the wing;
          How happy those whom duping gain can bring!