404:01,000[' ]| 404:01,001[A ]| Tell me, abandoned miscreant, prithee tell, 404:01,002[A ]| What damned power, invoked and sent from hell 404:01,003[A ]| (If hell were bad enough) did thee inspire 404:01,004[A ]| To write what fiends ashamed would blushing hear? 404:01,005[A ]| Hast thou of late embraced some Succubus, 404:01,006[A ]| And used the lewd familiar for a muse? 404:01,007[A ]| Or didst thy soul by inch o'th' candle sell, 404:01,008[A ]| To gain the glorious name of pimp to hell? 404:01,009[A ]| If so; go, and its vowed allegiance swear, 404:01,010[A ]| Without press-money, be its volunteer: 404:01,011[A ]| May he who envies thee deserve thy fate, 404:01,012[A ]| Deserve both heaven's and mankind's scorn and hate. 404:01,013[A ]| Disgrace to libels! Foil to very shame! 404:01,014[A ]| Whom 'tis a scandal to vouchsafe to damn! 404:01,015[A ]| What foul description's foul enough for thee, 404:01,016[A ]| Sunk quite below the reach of infamy? 404:01,017[A ]| Thou covetst to be lewd, but wantst the might 404:01,018[A ]| And art all over devil, but in wit. 404:01,019[A ]| What feeble strainer at mere ribaldry, 404:01,020[A ]| Whose muse is impotent to that degree, 404:01,021[A ]| 'T had need, like age, be whipped to lechery. 404:01,022[A ]| Vile sot! who clapped with poetry art sick, 404:01,023[A ]| And voidst corruption like a shankered prick, 404:01,024[A ]| Like ulcers, thy imposthumed addle brains 404:01,025[A ]| Dropped out in matter, which thy paper stains: 404:01,026[A ]| Whence nauseous rhymes by filthy births proceed, 404:01,027[A ]| As maggots in some turd engendering breed. 404:01,028[A ]| Thy muse has got the flowers, and they ascend 404:01,029[A ]| As in some greensick girl, at upper end. 404:01,030[A ]| Sure nature made, or meant at least 't have don 't, 404:01,031[A ]| Thy tongue a clitoris, thy mouth a cunt. 404:01,032[A ]| How well a dildo would that place become, 404:01,033[A ]| To gag it up, and make 't for ever dumb! 404:01,034[A ]| At least it should be syringed ~~ 404:01,035[A ]| Or wear some stinking merkin for a beard, 404:01,036[A ]| That all from its base converse might be scared: 404:01,037[A ]| As they a door shut up, and mark 't beware, 404:01,038[A ]| That tells infection, and the plague is there. 404:01,039[A ]| Thou Moorfields author! fit for bawds to quote 404:01,040[A ]| (If bawds themselves with honour safe may do 't) 404:01,041[A ]| When suburb-prentice comes to hire delight, 404:01,042[A ]| And wants incentives to dull appetite, 404:01,043[A ]| There punk, perhaps, may thy brave works rehearse, 404:01,044[A ]| Frigging the senseless thing with hand and verse; 404:01,045[A ]| Which after shall (preferred to dressing-box) 404:01,046[A ]| Hold turpentine, and medicines for the pox: 404:01,047[A ]| Or (if I may ordain a fate more fit 404:01,048[A ]| For such foul, nasty excrements of wit) 404:01,049[A ]| May they, condemned, to th' public jakes be lent, 404:01,050[A ]| (For me, I'd fear the piles in vengeance sent 404:01,051[A ]| Should I with them profane my fundament) 404:01,052[A ]| There bugger wiping porters when they shite, 404:01,053[A ]| And so thy book itself turn sodomite.