"Well say the vulgar, that the man's an ass, Who, having his own villa roofed with glass, Wreaks or his hate or spleen, from all aloof, In flinging stones upon his neighbour's roof. * * * * * The grave authority of gold, Never provoked by harsh asperity, Because it never heard a harsh reply. * * * * * The nuptial bed your industry profanes With lawless tires, and even the cradle stains; Into the winepress throws, ere half matured, The virgin grapes; delay is not endured; Picks locks, breaks bars, climbs walls however steep, And drugs the total family with sleep. * * * * * So the genteel adult'ress, on her charms Relying, with feigned warmth and false alarms, Stands sure of her soothed consort; now she faints, Now, agitated, pours forth wild complaints; From her disloyal bosom breathes deep sighs, And for a flood of tears prepares her eyes; Storms at the servants for their lawful zeal, And acts the indignant rage she does not feel: Her honest husband, credulous, beholds, And growing tenderer as she louder scolds, Gives useless satisfaction to his wife, Embraces, kneels to her to end the strife, Drinks with warm kiss the atrocious tears that rise To his dear Portia's well commanded eyes: But, though her protestations more renew, Her escritoire will tell thee if they are true; Search but the desk, and, gracious Gods! what schemes Must be found out, in what perfidious reams! * * * * * And if the jug's of plate, engraved with cost, Or with a Satyr's laughing face embossed, 'Twill more, forsooth, assuage thy thirst than e'er Did the plain jug of horrid earthenware! When from plain vessels, filled with water pure, I wet the thirsty lip, I drink secure: Say, would a vase whereon rich sculptures live, Filled in a palace, like assurance give? No! the Greek tyrants for their guests of old, Mixed poison always in a vase of gold."