[2500]With this conceit, Felice frolic grew,
And sported bravely in the silent hours.
Her bed-mates call'd her Angel; yet none knew
That 'twas Albino which had cropped their flowers.
But, though they revelled in the night, the day
Threw hailstorms on their lust to chill their play.
Yet had their pleasure not a grandsire life,
For tattling slumbers did their joys untone.
'You vowed, Felice, I should be your wife,'
Says Cloe, 'ere you loosed my virgin-zone,