Thou who bidest so chaste with mind ever set upon banquetsAnd with a futtering crew alway thy palace was filled:Then that thou learn of these which were most potent of swiving,Wont wast thou to bespeak, saying to suitors erect--'Than my Ulysses none was better at drawing the bowstringWhether by muscles of side or by superior skill;And, as he now is deceased, do ye all draw and inform meWhich of ye men be the best so that my man he become.'Thy heart, Penelope, right sure by such pow'r I had pleasèd,But at the time not yet had I been made of mankind.

When the fig's honied sweet thy taste shall catchAnd hither tempt thee hand of thee to stretch;Glance at my nature, Thief! and estimateThe mentule thou must cack and what's it weight.

A starveling stranger made me laughing-stock,Bringing me cakes and spelt with salt bestrown;Then, having scattered part upon the fire,Forthright he hied him, duty duly done.Hereat a neighbour's bitch incontinent comes--Led by the savour of the smoke, I ween--