Sportive Epigrams on Priapus (in prose) (41-45)

Whoever comes hither let him become a poet and dedicate to me jocose verses. He who does not, shall, teeming with piles,[*] walk amongst learned poets.

The steward Aristagoras, rejoicing in his promising grapes, offers to thee, O God, apples formed from wax. Do thou, O Priapus, contented with the semblance of a votive apple, cause him to bear genuine fruit

Think not that everything I say is spoken in jest and for my own amusement. That ye may not be in doubt, I tell ye this, that all thieves who are often caught I shall irrumate.

What dost thou say this spear, although I be wooden, is wishing, if any girl give kisses to my middle? It needs no soothsayer, for, believe me, she has said, 'The rude spear will exercise its true functions on me.

When the Rigid God beheld an effeminate crisping his hair with the heated curling-irons, to liken himself to a Moorish damsel, 'Ho there, thou catamite,' quoth he. 'We tell thee, thou mayst crisp and curl to thy liking, but is a girl, prithee, of more value than are the hairs which deck thy mentule?'[*]