O BATHING man, I like your plan
Of counting, for I heard
Stout Spatale was charged as three,
And paid without a word.

" I WON'T marry Betty: she's too fond of men,"
" Well, boys find her charming." " I'll marry her then."

S UBDOLA famosae moneo fuge retia moechae,
Leuior o conchis, Galle, Cytheriacis.
Confidis natibus? Non est pedico maritus:
Quae faciat duo sunt: irrumat aut futuit.

When your duty you never could do to your wife,
Why offer yourself to the surgeon's sharp knife?

The bath-water's fouled when your buttocks you swill.
Just put in your head; 'twill be dirtier still.

A GUE they say! I know what his complaint is,
A case of greed suppressed and thirst unsated:
Exhibit thrushes fat and other dainties;
Red mullets too and pike are indicated;
With fine old port his thirst should be abated,
And rare liqueurs stored in their slender bottles —
The faculty have all miscalculated
Hydropathy won't cure such fevered throttles.

You took a woman off the street,
You gave her dresses rich and rare,
And yet the penitential sheet
She might with greater fitness wear.

You ask me how my farm can pay,
Since little it will bear;
It pays me thus. — 'Tis far away
And you are never there.

As your legs are as curved as the moon's horns when new,
Then your bath should be shaped like a drinking-horn too.

To buy a young minion you've spent all your gold,
And let your three children go hungry and cold,
While you force him on you his male vigour to prove,
Who are long past the age for legitimate love.
May you grow old together, and never another
Embrace you but he, you unnatural mother.