Aufilena, the fair, if kind, is a favourite ever;
Asks she a price, then yields frankly? the price is her own.
You, that agreed to be kind, now vilely the treaty dishonour,
Give not at all, nor again take;—'tis a wrong to a wrong.
Not to deceive were noble, a chastity ne'er had a**ented,
Aufilena; but you—blindly to grasp at a gain,
Yet to withhold the effects,—'tis a greed more loathly than harlot's
Vileness, a wretch whose limbs ply to the lusts of a town.