Just where you please; CONSTANCE What, on this chair? CAMILLUS No, no, be more at ease; Come into bed. CONSTANCE Unlace me then, I pray. CAMILLUS I cannot: I'm undressed, and cold as clay: Unlace yourself.-- Just then the belle perceived A poinard, which anxiety relieved; She drew it from the scabbard, cut her lace, And many parts of dress designed for grace, The works of months, embroidery and flow'r Now perished in the sixtieth of an hour, Without regret, or seeming to lament, What more than life will of the sex content. YE dames of Britain, Germany, or France, Would you have done as much, through complaisance? You would not, I'm convinced: the thing is clear; But doubtless this, at Rome, must fine appear. POOR Constance softly to the bed approached, No longer now supposing she encroached, And trusting that, no stratagem again Would be contrived to give her bosom pain. Camillus said: my sentiments I'll speak; Dissimulation I will never seek; She who can proffer what should be denied, Shall never be admitted by my side; But if the place your approbation meet, I won't refuse your lying at my feet. FAIR Constance such reproof could not withstand, 'Twas well the poinard was not in her hand; Her bosom so severely felt the smart, She would have plunged the dagger through her heart: But Hope, sweet Hope! still fluttered to her view; And young Camillus pretty well she knew; Howe'er with such severity he spoke, That e'en the mildest saint it would provoke; Yet, in a swain so easy, gentle, kind, 'Twas strange so little lenity to find. SHE placed herself, as order'd, cross the bed, And at his feet at length reclined her head; A kiss on them she ventured to impress, But not too roughly, lest she should transgress: We may conjecture if he were at ease; What victory! to see her stoop to please; A beauty so renowned for charms and pride, 'Twould take a week, to note each trait described; No other fault than paleness he could trace, Which gave her (causes known) still higher grace.