And others call’d it want of sense,
Always to rail at what they lov’d:
But Jove with indignation mov’d,
At last in anger swore, he’d rid 230
The bawling hive of fraud; and did.
The very moment it departs,
And honesty fills all their hearts;
There shows ’em, like th’ instructive tree,
Those crimes which they’re asham’d to see; 235
Which now in silence they confess,