'Tis melancholy darken the day
so gunk on their teeth
by musturd seed and rind
yet most measure stale purée
but her only worry a harlot
inhibits men with sorrow  
as an ongoing chagrin
collapses his chin
while such amour profane
with Montezuma then
in spite of industry and vanity    
grinds lust so indifferently  
where gravity was unsightly
and brevity fell inane.