Never (so love me the Gods!) deemed I 'twas preference matterOr Aemilius' mouth choose I to smell or his . . . .Nothing is this more clean, uncleaner nothing that other,Yet I ajudge . . . . cleaner and nicer to be;For while this one lacks teeth, that one has cubit-long tushes,Set in their battered gums favouring a muddy old box,Not to say aught of gape like wide-cleft gap of a she-muleWhenas in summer-heat wont peradventure to stale.Yet has he many a motte and holds himself to be handsome—Why wi' the baker's ass is he not bound to the mill?Him if a damsel kiss we fain must think she be readyWith her fair lips . . . .