Lyly's Campaspe

Since to every rouged & rutting Phyllis

& our rude waking to what her bill is

Entelechy accords an Appelles

Tho' of suet her titties & sausage rings her bellies

Nathless, so hard has that whore ridden Aristotle

None can prove wine isn't its own bottle

Or Sherlock's smoke, Home's desiccating dottle

 Cupid's dick- Campaspe's demographic throttle.

Envoi- 

Turk! For its gate was greater,  Myndos fled through it

Brick up Mercy's- lest Kristos' dead rue it. 

Riposte- 

Tho' Homonoia's incarnate anointment

aint, for haemorrhoids, an ointment

Grieve who it will

It suffices to gate any City on a Hill. 

Siddhantha-

Euphuism sublates its own Erudition- rendering both so silly

Only an old darkie like me bothers with John Lyly.