A hundred eyes had Argus, yet the whileOne silly maid did all those eyes beguile;Danae, tho' shut within a brazen tow'r,Felt the male virtue of the golden show'r;But chaste Penelope, left to her own willAnd free disposal, never thought of ill;She to her absent lord preserv'd her truth,For all th' addresses of the smoother youth,What's rarely seen, our fancy magnifies;Permitted pleasure who does not despise ?Thy care provokes beyond her face, and moreMen strive to make tho cuckold than the whore.They're wondrous charms we think, and long to knowThat in a wife enchants a husband so:Rage, swear, and curse, no matter, she alonePleases, who sighs, and cries, " I am undone."But could thy spies say, " We have kept her chaste,"Good servants then, but an ill wife thou hast;Who fears to be a cuckold is a clown,Not worthy to partake of this lewd town,