XLII: Come all hendecasyllables whatever

Come all hendecasyllables whatever,
Wheresoever ye house you, all whatever.

I the game of an impudent adultress?
She refuse to return to me the tablets
Where you syllable? O ye can't be silent.
Up, have after her, ask renunciation.

Would ye know her? a woman, you shall eye her
Strutting loftily, whiles she laughs a loud laugh
Vast and vulgar, a Gaulish hound beseeming.
Form your circle about her, ask her, urge her.

'Hark, adulteress, hand the note-book over.
Hark, the note-book, adultress, hand it over.'

What? you scorn us? O ugly filth, detested
Trull, whatever is all abomination.

Nay then, louder. Enough as yet it is not.
If this only remains, perhaps the dog-like
Face may colour, a brassy blush may yield us.
Swell your voices in higher harsher yellings,

'Hark, adulteress, hand the note-book over;
Hark, the note-book; adultress, hand it over.'

Look, she moves not at all: we waste the moments.
Change your quality, try another issue.
Such composure a sweeter air may alter.
'Pure and virtuous, hand the note-book over.'