“Pox on you for a fop, your stomach’s too queasy.
Cannot I belch and fart, you coxcomb to ease me?
What if I let fly in your face and shall please ye?
Fogh, fogh, how sour he smells.
Now he’s at, now he’s at it again.
Out ye beast, I never met so nasty a man.
I’m not able to bear it.
What the devil d’ye mean?
No less than a Caesar decreed with great reason,
No restraint should be laid on the bum or the weason,
For belching and farting were always in season.”
Yes! Henry Purcell.