A knaue, that moues[°] as light as leaues by winde;
That[°] bendeth not, nor fouldeth anie deale,
But stands as stiff as he were made of steele;
And playes at peacock twixt my leggs right blythe[°],
And doeth my tickling swage with manie a sighe.
For, by saint Runnion! he'le[°] refresh me well;
And neuer make my tender bellie[°] swell.
Poore Priapus! whose triumph now must falle[°],
Except thou thrust this weakeling to the walle[°].
Behould! how he usurps, in bed and bowre[°]