pila,
Solis putatis esse mentulas vobis,
Solis licere, quidquid est puellarum,
Confutuere et putare ceteros hircos? 5
An, continenter quod sedetis insulsi
Centum an ducenti, non putatis ausurum
Me una ducentos inrumare sessores?
Atqui putate: namque totius vobis
Frontem tabernae scorpionibus scribam. 10
Puella nam mi, quae meo sinu fugit,
Amata tantum quantum amabitur nulla,
Pro qua mihi sunt magna bella pugnata,
Consedit istic. hanc boni beatique
Omnes amatis, et quidem, quod indignumst, 15
Omnes pusilli et semitarii moechi;
Tu praeter omnes une de capillatis,
Cuniculosae Celtiberiae fili
Egnati, opaca quem bonum facit barba
Et dens Hibera defricatus urina. 20

XXXVII.

TO THE FREQUENTERS OF A LOW TAVERN.

Salacious Tavern and ye taverner-host,
From Pileate Brothers the ninth pile-post,
D'ye claim, you only of the mentule boast,
D'ye claim alone what damsels be the best
To swive: as he-goats holding all the rest? 5
Is't when like boobies sit ye incontinent here,
One or two hundred, deem ye that I fear
Two hundred ---- at one brunt?
Ay, think so, natheless all your tavern-front
With many a scorpion I will over-write. 10
For that my damsel, fro' my breast took flight,
By me so loved, as shall loved be none,
Wherefor so mighty wars were waged and won,
Does sit in public here. Ye fain, rich wights,
All woo her: thither too (the chief of slights!) 15
All pitiful knaves and by-street wenchers fare,
And thou, (than any worse), with hanging hair,
In coney-breeding Celtiberia bred,
Egnatius! bonnified by beard full-fed,
And teeth with Spanish urine polished. 20

Tavern of lust and you its tippling crowd, (at ninth pile sign-post from
the Cap-donned Brothers) think ye that ye alone have mentules, that 'tis
allowed to you alone to touzle whatever may be feminine, and to deem all
other men mere goats? But, because ye sit, a row of fools numbering one
hundred or haply two hundred, do ye think I dare not irrumate your entire
two hundred--loungers!--at once! Think it! but I'll scrawl all over the
front of your tavern with scorpion-words. For my girl, who has fled from my
embrace (she whom I loved as ne'er a maid shall be beloved--for whom I
fought fierce fights) has seat