Than she the lovely Jezebel unmask’d;
And by her haughty airs, and scornful pride,
My peace was wounded—nay, my reason tried;
I felt despised and fallen when we met,
And she, O folly! looks too lovely yet; 300
Yet love no longer in my bosom glows,
But my heart warms at the revenge it owes.
“O! that I saw her with her soul on fire,
Desperate from love, and sickening with desire;
While all beheld her just, unpitied pain,