3720Last, a tough cheese must lock the stomach's door,
Milked from a cow that fed on naught but burrs,
Had lain five winters on [a] spongy floor,
To gain an harness and a coat of furs;
So neatly peopled too, 'twas judg'd a court,
Such herds of gentles did about it sport.
Qualmish Bellama could not eat a bit,
'Cause luscious meats a surfeit soon provoke.
Albino vent'red but was fain to spit,
Lest those harsh viands should his monkship choke.