Help me, kind friend, my faggots to adjust!
But thou that silly cripple’s words mistrust;
’Tis planted for thy death. Note it and pass.
20
‘And when thy road the Stygian river joins,
Where woolly Charon ferries o’er the dead,
He will demand his fare: one of thy coins
Force with thy tongue between thy teeth, thy head
Offering instead of hand to give the doit.
His fingers in this custom are adroit,