Thou beckonest ever with a face all smiles,
Then, God of Love, thou lookest fierce and pale.
Unfeeling boy! why waste on me such wiles?
What glory if a god o'er man prevails?

Once more thy snares are set. My Delia flies
To steal a night--with whom I cannot tell.
Can I believe when she denies, denies--
I, for whose sake she tricked her lord so well?

By me, alas! those cunning ways were shown
To fool her slaves. My skill I now deplore!
For me she made excuse to sleep alone,
Or silenced the shrill hinges of her door.

"Twas I prescribed what remedies to use
If mutual passion somewhat fiercely play;
If there were tell-tale bite or rosy bruise,
I showed what simples take the scars away.

Hear me! fond husband of the false and fair,
Make me thy guest, and she shall chastely go!
When she makes talk with men I shall take care,
Nor shall she at the wine her bosom show.

I shall take care she does not nod or smile
To any other, nor her hand imbue
With his fast-flowing wine, that her swift guile
May scribble on the board their rendez-vous.