How can'st thou, wretch! belie a mind so base,
With that undaunted air, and guiltless face?
Hypocrisy so steady and compleat,
A villain, cautious as thyself, might cheat;
No wonder then thy practis'd saintly shews
Should on my honest artless mind impose.
My soul entire to thee I did resign;
Except my bed, whate'er I had was thine.
In fetters let th' ungrateful slave be ty'd,
Some gloomy dungeon shall the monster hide.