Cloe, coquet and debon air ,
Haughty, flatter'd, vain, and fair ;
No longer obstinately coy ,
Let loose her soul to dreams of joy .
She took the husband to her arms ,
Resign'd her freedom and her charms ;
Grew tame, and passive to his will ,
And bid her eyes forbear to kill .
But mighty happy still at heart ,
Nor room was there for pain, or smart .

At length she found the name of wife
Was but another word for strife .
That cheek, which late out-blush'd the rose ,
Now with unwonted fury glows .
Those tender words, " my dear, I die , "
The moving tear, and melting sigh ,
Were now exchang'd for something new ,
And feign'd emotions yeild to true .
Reproach, debate, and loss of fame ,
Intrigues, diseases, duns, and shame .
No single fault He strives to hide ;
Madam has virtue, therefore pride .
Thus both resent, while neither spares ,
And curse, but cannot break their snares .