He like a thievish dog creeps sadly thence; (737)
She like a wearied lamb lies panting there; (738)
He scowls and hates himself for his offence; (739)
She, desperate, with her nails her flesh doth tear; (740)
He faintly flies, sweating with guilty fear;
She stays, exclaiming on the direful night; (742)
He runs, and chides his vanish'd, loathed delight.