"I think I hear a footstep light of tripping feet like hers!

"Away vain arts of love! false aids to win the fair!
"Henceforth a cloak of filthy shag shall be my only wear!

"Her door is shut! She doth deny one moment's interview!
"I'll wear my toga loose no more, as happier lovers do."

_To Marathus_

Have done, dear lad! In vain thy tears! She will not heed thy plea!
Redden no more thy bright young eyes to please her cruelty!

_To Pholoe_

I warn thee, Pholoe, when the gods chastise thy naughty pride,
No incense burned at holy shrines will turn their wrath aside.

This Marathus himself, erewhile, made mock of lovers' moan,
Nor knew how soon the vengeful god would mark him for his own.

He also laughed at sighs and tears, and oft would make delay,
And oft a lover's fondest wish would baffle and betray.

But now on beauty's haughty ways he looks in fierce disdain;
He scarce may pass a bolted door without a secret pain.

Beware, proud girl, some plague will fall, unless thy pride give way;
Thou wilt in vain the gods implore to send thee back this day!