Once known, for ever lost would be her fame
          Besides the heinous sin and vile offence,
          God knew she rather would with all dispense;
          Mere complaisance had led her to comply;
          Would she admit a wretch with blearing eye,
          To incommode, and banish tranquil ease? 
          Who could conceive her formed a clod to please? 
          Can I, said she, the paths of honour quit,
          And in my bed a loathsome brute permit? 
          Or e’er regard the plan but with disdain? 
          No, by saint John, I ever will maintain,
          Nor beau, nor clown, nor king, nor lord, nor ’squire,
          Save Nicia, with me freely shall retire.

          Thefair Lucretia seemed so firmly bent,
          To father Timothy at length they went,
          Who preached the lady such a fine discourse,
          She ceded more through penitence than force.

          Moreovershe was promised that the lad
          Should be nor clownish, nor in person bad;
          Nor such as any way might give disgust,
          But one to whom she perfectly might trust.

          Thewondrous draught was taken by the fair;
          Next day our Wight prepared his wily snare: 
          Himself bepowdered like a miller’s man,
          With beard and whiskers to complete his plan;
          A better metamorphose ne’er was seen;
          Ligurio, who had in the secret been,
          So thoroughly disguised the lover thought,
          At midnight him to Nicia freely brought,
          With bandage o’er the eyes and hair disdained,
          Not once the husband of deceit complained.

          Besidethe dame in silence slid our spark;
          In silence she attended in the dark,
          Perfumed and nicely ev’ry way bedecked;
          For what? you ask, or whom did she expect;
          Were all these pains a miller to receive?—­
          Too much they cannot take, the sex believe;
          And whether kings or millers be their aim,
          The wish to please is ever found the same. 
          ’Tis double honour in a woman thought,
          When by her charms a torpid heart is caught;
          She, who in icy bosoms flame can raise,
          Deserving doubtless is of treble praise.

          Thespark disguised, his place no sooner took,
          But awkwardness he presently forsook;
          No more the miller, but the smart gallant: 
          The lady found him kind and complaisant;
          Such moments we’ll suppose were well employed;
          Though trembling fears not perfectly destroyed.