Cum quendam rigidus deus videret
ferventi caput ustulare ferro,
ut Maurae similis foret puellae,
'heus' inquit 'tibi dicimus, cinaede,
uras te licet usque torqueasque,
num tandem prior es puella, quaeso,
quod sunt, mentula quos habet, capilli?'
Whenas the Rigid God espied a wight
Crisping his head with curling-tongs aglow
That he be likest to a Moorish maid,
'Ho thou! (cried he) we tell thee, catamite;
However much thou toast and curl thyself
Is then a damsel more of worth, I ask,
Than are the hairy honours of thy yard?'
When the Rigid God beheld an effeminate crisping his hair with the heated curling-irons, to liken himself to a Moorish damsel, 'Ho there, thou catamite,' quoth he. 'We tell thee, thou mayst crisp and curl to thy liking, but is a girl, prithee, of more value than are the hairs which deck thy mentule?'[2]