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Thou shalt ne'er a true maiden be. Thou hast neither womb nor ovary Thou art a catamite, twist'd by foul perversion of chirurgeon's art to crude fleer'ry of Divine perfection. All validation as thou receivest like unto Janus' own be, and tepid to boot. 'Pon thy hind, good folk fleer. Thy good father and kind mother art in troth disgust'd and in shame of thee. Thy friends doth make sport of thine hideous countenance 'twixt themselves. By thee art all of Adam's sons utterly repuls'd. Our Lord didst fortuitously permit all menfolk to divine thy fraud with wondrous accuracy. If by trickery, thou didst 'pon occasion "pass", all gentle folk verily wouldst 'pon closer examination revile thee. By the Lord's, arrangement, thy very bones betray thee. And if 'pon chance thou pliest with drink an unfortunate companion unto thy fetid bed, twould soonest fly as drink in the aromas from thine diseas'd, fest'ring wound, the which thou cherish in mockery of Eve's daughters. Tis certaine that never shalt the devil's spawn pass from thine false womb, thus fruitless art thy efforts to ensnare gentlefolk. Joy shall likewise escape thee. 'Pon waking, thou paint upon thy face a Deceiver's frippery, but inside thine heart, parlous despair circles like Leviathan, eft t' crush thee 'neath th'unbearable weight. In the end 'twill be too much to bear - thou shalt find thyself procuring firm rope, mocking the hangman's noble art, and plunging into the bitter abyss of the Divill's embrace, to spend thy days better cavorting with thine masters. Thine father or mother shall occasion upon thine empty shell and weep, caught 'twixt heartbreak and relief that the shame thou, broughtest them hast, anon, abated. Thine headstone shall reflect thine Christian name, and hist'ry shall record thee a man. As worms and creatures of the earth feast on thine unholy corpse, thine bones shalt betray thee again - unmistak'bly like unto Adam's. 'Tis thy fate, self-appointed. Ne'er shall thee revoke it.
