To those who say that they are “here,”
On what membrane doth thy joint?
Thy sounds of flattery I query,
As I am an umpire of “love.”

What parts of you feel satisfaction,
Having cried out to your faction,
Oh what ligaments extended,
That have made your voice distended?

What internal machinations,
Made you seek out their affections?
And what begot thy sinuous vice,
Of...