That no fair woman will, wonder not why,
Clap (Rufus) under thine her tender thigh;
Not a silk gown shall once melt one of them,
Nor the delights of a transparent gemme.
A scurvy story kills thee, which doth tell,
That in thine armpits a fierce goat doth dwell.
Him they all fear full of an ugly stench:<106.2>
Nor 's 't fit he should lye with a handsome wench;
Wherefore this noses cursed plague first crush,
Or cease to wonder, why they fly you thus.
<106.1> An archaic form of QUOCUM.
<106.2> Original has STINCH.
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