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.