Your husband will be with us at the treat,May that be the last supper he shall eat.And am poor I, a guest invited there,Only to see, while he may touch the fair?To see you kiss, and hug your nauseous lord,While his lewd hand descends below the board?No wonder that Hippodamia's charms,At such a sight, the Centaurs urg'd to arms:That in a rage, they threw their cups aside,Assail'd the bridegroom, and would force the bride.