This said, his guilty hand pluck'd up the latch, (359)
And with his knee the door he opens wide. (360)
The dove sleeps fast that this night-owl will catch: (361)
Thus treason works ere traitors be espied. (362)
Who sees the lurking serpent steps aside;
But she, sound sleeping, fearing no such thing, (364)
Lies at the mercy of his mortal sting.