Seest not the fruits of the market, how of two kinds they be? Some are for figs,[FN#52] but more for the fruit of the sycamore-tree.[FN#53]
Full many an one, whose ankle-rings are dumb, her girdle sounds; So this one is content and that a tale of need must tell. Thou'dst have me, foolwise, in her charms forget thee. God forfend I, that a true believer am, should turn an infidel! No, by a whisker that makes mock of all her curls, I swear, Nor maid nor strumpet from thy side shall me by guile compel!
O pearl of loveliness, to love thee is my faith; Yea, and my choice of all the faiths that have been aye. Women I have forsworn, indeed, for thy sweet sake, So that the folk avouch I'm grown a monk to-day
Compare not a wench with a boy and to the spy, Who says to thee, "This is wrong," pay thou no heed. 'Twixt a woman whose feet one's lips kiss and a smooth-faced fawn, Who kisses the earth, the diff'rence is great indeed.
My soul be thy ransom! Indeed, I've chosen thee out with intent, Because thou layest no eggs and dost not menstruate. For, an I inclined to foregather with harlots, upon my faith, The wide, wide world for the brats I should get would prove too strait.
Quoth she to me,--and sore enraged for wounded pride was she, For she in sooth had bidden me to that which might not be,-- "An if thou swive me not forthright, as one should swive his wife, If thou be made a cuckold straight, reproach it not to me. Meseems thy yard is made of wax, for very flaccidness; For, when I rub it with my hand, it softens instantly."
Quoth she (for I to lie with her would not consent), "O fool, that followest on thy folly to the extent, If thou reject my kaze for Kibleh[FN#54] to thy yard, We'll show thee one wherewith thou shalt be sure content."
She proffered me a tender kaze; But I, "I will not swive," replied. She drew back, saying, "From the truth Needs must he turn who's turned aside;[FN#55] And swiving frontwise in our day Is all abandoned and decried;" Then turned and showed me, as it were A lump of silver, her backside. "Well done, O mistress mine! No more Am I in pain for thee," I cried, "Whose poke of all God's openings[FN#56] Is sure the amplest and most wide!"
Men crave forgiveness with uplifted hands; But women pray with lifted legs, I trow.[FN#57] Out on it for a pious piece of work! God shall exalt it to the deeps below.[FN#58]