But a distended yard makes me an object of awe.

Wealth is my loss! Do thou vouchsafe lend aid to my prayer,Nor, by thy signal shown, me, O Priapus, betray:Whatso before thee I laid, of home-grown apples the firstlings,(Prithee, be pleased not to tell!) from Via Sacra be ta'en.

An fro' me woman shall thieve or plunder me man or a man-child,She shall pay me with coynte, that with his mouth, this with arse.

Whoso of violets here shall pluck or rose,