So e’re Arachne to her Cell repairs,
Insidiously she weaves her glewy Snares.
Sullen, she meditates on Deaths to come,
And meliorates the Poison in her Womb.
[h] Should hapless Clarion thither take his Flight,
He falls her Prey, mindful of ancient Spite.
With Malice swoll’n, Pride, Envy, Avarice,
Ingratitude attends this Train to Vice.
Yet one remains untold; with Lust endu’d,
Behold the Fribler lab’ring to be lewd.