And that hag, Vengeance, in a corner, charms.
Hatred her brothel has, as well as Love,
Where horrid epicures debauch in blood.
Whate’er the motive, pleasure is the mark:
For her, the black assassin draws his sword;
For her, dark statesmen trim their midnight lamp, 560
To which no single sacrifice may fall;
For her, the saint abstains; the miser starves;
The Stoic proud, for Pleasure, pleasure scorn’d;
For her, Affliction’s daughters grief indulge,