Which thro' the livelong nights for aye fatigueThe neighbour-women rutting endlessly,Lewder than sparrows in the lusty spring;Or I shall burst and ye Priapus lose.How I be futtered-out yourselves espyUsed-up, bejaded, lean and pallid grown,Who erstwhile ruddy, in my doughtiness wontTo kill with poking thieves however doughty.