Burlesque upon Burlesque :: :: University of Virginia Library

Burlesque upon Burlesque

Or, the Scoffer Scoft. Being some of Lucians Dialogues Newly put into English fustian. For the Consolation of those who had rather Laugh and be Merry, then be Merry and Wise [by Charles Cotton]

Cotton, Charles (1630-1687)

[section]

Prologue.

PROMETHEUS, OR, CAUCASUS.

DIALOGUE.

THE DIALOGUES OF THE GODS.

DIALOGUE.

The Judgment of Paris. DIALOGUE.

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Prologue.

Gentles behold a Rural Muse
In home-spun Robes, and clowted shoos,
Presents you old, but new translated News.

We in the Country do not scorn
Our Walls with Ballads to adorn
Of patient Grizell, and the Lord of Lorne.

Old Tales, old Songs, and an old Jest,
Our stomachs easili'st disgest;
And of all Plays Hieronimo's the best.

We bring you hear a Fustian peece,
Writ by a merry Wagg of Greece,
Which yet the learned say's not much amiss.

And if 'gainst stile Except you shall,
Wee must acquaint you once for all,
'Tis but Burlesque in the Original.

The Subject is without offence,
Doe but some smutty words dispence,
Wee'l make amends with Ryme, if not with Sence.

Besides you must not take a Picque,
If he sometimes speak plain, and gleek,
Without that Licence he could be no Greek.

But we our selves so hate prophaners,
And all corrupters of good manners,
Hee's qualified for all entertainers,

And is so well reform'd from riot,
His Book is made so wholsome diet,
Virgins and Boys can run no danger by it.

But why a Prologue, you will say,
To what nor is nor's like a Play?
That I expect you in my dish should lay.

Why though this Antick new-vaump't Wit,
With no such vain design was writ,
That it should either Gallery, Box, or Pit:

Yet my renowned Author sayes,
These Scenes with those may pass for Playes
Were writ i'th' Dutchess of --- --- dayes.

But she is gone (I speak it quaking,
The sleeping Lioness for waking)
To write in a new world of her own making.

And now that she has shot the Pit,
You even must contented sit,
And take such homely fare as you can get.

For this, the Rymer says that penn'd it,
For a fine piece 'twas nere intended,
Since in a Month 'twas both begun, and ended.

Some favour he expects therefore,
And does your mercies (Sirs) implore,
On one that never troubled you before.

But yet he bid me e're I went hence
To tell you, that what ere's your Sentence,
It shall not cost him half an hours repentance.

PROMETHEUS, OR, CAUCASUS.

The Author (who no doubt had wit)
This piece of Railery then writ
When Paganism was in fashion:
By this ridiculous narration
To beat into the brains o'th' rude
And logger-headed multitude,
That what the wanton Poets feign
Of one Prometheus is vain,
And fit to be (here be it sed)
By none but Coxcombs credited.

Wherein his meaning further is
To take away th'Authorities
Of Lies, and Fables, which did Pigeon
The Rabble into false Religion.
Which also was his drift ('tis odds)
In th'other Dialogues o'th' Gods,
Of which this here plac't first of all
Seems to be Captain General.

DIALOGUE.

Vulcan, Mercury, and Prometheus.

Merc.
So now to Caucasus w'are got,
Come Vulcan, let us look about
For some good Rock, where we may fall
To nayling fast the Criminal.
'Tis more than time that we had done it:
But let's choose one has no Snow on it,
That of both Manacle and Gieve
The Nayls we to the head may drive.

And one that also on each side
Does open lye to be descry'd,
That Passengers may be aware on't,
And the Rogue's shame the more apparent.

Vulcan.
Content, but we must nayl him so,
That he may neither hang so low,
That Mortals soon as they shall spy him
May presently come and untie him;
Nor must we fasten him so high,
As to be out of reach of eye,
The torment then would be unknown,
That's meant an exemplary one.
Therefore be rul'd by my advice,
Wee'l hang him on this Precipice
I'th' middle of the Mountain there,
Chaining one hand to this Rock here,
T'other to that that's opposite,
And there he will hang fair in sight,
Where friend and foe at ease may view him,
But the grand Devil can't get to him.

Mercury.
I like thy Reasons wondrous well,
They both are inaccessible.

Come (Sir Prometheus) if you please,
And mount a step for your own ease;
Nay, never hang an Arse for th'matter,
It is in vain to cog and flatter:
Come on I say, and ne're draw back for't,
Or those large luggs of yours will crack for't;
Why when I say! come mount apace
And hang man with a handsome grace.

Promet.
Hale me not prethee on this fashion:
But take some small commiseration
Upon a pauvre Diable,
Unjustly made thus miserable.

Merc.
What! I believe thou art so kind
(Thou bear'st a very loving mind)
To have us truss't up in thy room
For disobeying great Jove's Doom!
Do'st think this Caucasus to be
Too little to hold all us Three;
Or would it comfort be to thee
T'have fellows in thy misery!
Your Servant Sir, we thank you kindly,
And in return we mean to bind yee,
Where any friend you have may find yee.

Come (Sir) your right hand; Vulcan drive:
Well driven as I hope to live!
Such things I see thou hast an art in,
That hand I warrant's fast for starting.
Come (Sir) your left; here strike again,
And drive this home with might and main.
Ha! ha! old smutty face, well sed,
Th'ast hit the nayl (I faith) o'th' head.
Here, here, now take me this right legg,
And drive me here another pegg.
Well said! here make me this fast too,
And then there is no more to do.
'Slid, thou hast done it to a hair:
So, now (Sir) you may take the Air,
And may contemplate all alone;
The Vulture will come down anon
To prey upon your Entrals Don,
A recompence a worthy one,
For your most sine invention.

Promet.
O gentle mother Earth that bore me,
And in thy throes didst loud groan for me!
Thou Saturn and Japetus too,
Alass the day, what shall I do.

What! must I undergoe this wo-thing,
And suffer thus for doing nothing.

Merc.
No, call'st it nothing (wicked Beast)
To cheat great Jove at a great Feast!
To give him bones (a trick that new is)
Smear'd over with a little Brewis,
And keep the best o'th' meat (forsooth)
For your own Worships dainty tooth!
Besides, I wonder much (Wise-aker)
Who 'twas that made you a Man-maker,
That subtle crafty Animal!
And Woman too the worst of all!
And then to steal the fire from Heaven
Which only to the Gods was given,
And that they prize above all measure
Much more then all their other treasure!
After all which hast thou a face
So varnish't, nay so vaump't with brass;
Or rather steel'd with impudence,
To preach to us thy innocence!
And to complain thou hast wrong done thee!
Thou wicked Rogue, now out upon thee!

Promet.
Hast thou the stony heart to rate
And use me thus in this estate?
And to reproach me for things here,
For which, by all the Gods I swear,
And all of them to witness call,
That dine and sup in Jove's fair Hall,
I deserve, rather than this Doom,
A pension i'th'

The Exchequer of Athens.

Prytoneum.
And if thou would'st but give me leisure,
In sadness, I could take a pleasure
(For all I know, thou much do'st glory
In thy renowned Oratory)
Now with thee to dispute the case,
And argu't with thee face to face:
To baffle in thy person here
Thy mighty Master Jupiter.
Take then upon thee his defence
With all thy mighty Eloquence,
And mak't appear that he has reason
To chain me here this bitter season,
In prospect of the Caspian-Ports
To which the trading world resorts,

To all these crowds of men to be
A Spectacle of misery;
Yea (and what's more) of horror, even
To Scythians, to whom is given
By all that have been hither

The Author means driven by necessity of Trading, as well as by the Winds.

driven,
The name of bloodiest under Heaven.

Merc.
Faith thy defence comes now too late;
But if thou hast a mind to prate,
Wee'l give thee hearing, and we may,
For we are here enjoyn'd to stay
Until we see the

The Vulture.

Pigeon driver
Come down to prey upon thy Liver.
In the mean time wee'l shew our breeding,
In our attention to thy pleading;
Make use of time then, and be quick
In pouring out thy Rhetorick,
'Twill doubtless ravish; For I hear
Thou art a mighty Sophister.

Promet.
Nay, to speak first it is thy part,
Because thou my Accuser art;
And in so doing take heed, pray,
You don't your Masters cause betray.

Smug here shall stand by, and be mute,
And be the Judge of our dispute.

Vulc.
Who, I be Judge against my Father!
Thy Peacher or thy Hangman rather,
For having my own Forge bereaven
Of heat, by stealing Fire from Heaven.

Promet.
Why then I'le tell you what to do,
Your Accusation's split in two,

Speaking to Vulcan.

Thou of the Theft to speak hadst best,
And let him handle all the rest;
T'other offences leave to him:
And also it would ill beseem
The God of Thieves, in open Session
To speak against his own profession.

Vulc.
No, no, to meddle I am loth;
Mercury here shall speak for's both;
He is a Clerk of better reading:
For my part I've no skill in pleading:
He has been bred to't, I was ne're
Cut out to be a Barrester,
My head too heavy was, and logger,
Ever to make a Pettifogger.

I'le ne're deny it, I have more Art
In clowting of a crasie Cart:
But he by bawling, 'tis well known,
Has gotten many a good half Crown;
And by that Trade has got his living,
For all thy talk, as well as Thieving.

Merc.
It would require a tedious time,
Piecemeal to handle ev'ry Crime,
Of which thou lowsy, mangy, filthy,
Abominable Knave art guilty:
Nor is't enough in running fashion,
Barely to name each accusation:
But since my Gentleman confesses,
Nay glories in his wickednesses,
My task by that so much the less is.
And it great folly were to babble
A great long tedious Ribble-Rabble
Of Crimes would load a Councel-Table,
And go about with grave Sentences
To prove a Bead-roll of Offences,
Of which, without being so strict,
He is by his own mouth convict.

And therefore I shall say but this,
That undeniably it is
The greatest injury can be
To Jupiter's great Clemency,
So often to relapse into
Crimes (Sir) for which you full well knew,
The Gallows were long since your due,
And in defiance still of Heaven,
To sin as often as forgiven,

Promet.

A great Case in few words laid open,
Learnedly has your Worship spoken,
Good Master Serjeant, y'have undone
The Lawyers ev'ry Mother's Son.
'Tis pity but you had held on,
It was so pithy an Oration:
But now how wise your Accusation
Is in the Substance, would be known,
And that (Sir) we shall see anon.
But since you think y'ave said enough,
Without one syllable of proof,
I'le enter into my defence
To answer your great Eloquence.

And first and formost here I all
The Gods in Heav'n to witness call,
It pities me to th'heart to see
That the great Jupiter should be
So out of humor, and so grum
As to pronounce this heavy Doom,
Not only on a man, but even
A God who has a right in Heaven,
One of the merry'st of Boon-blades,
And one too of his old Camrades,
Nay one that some time (much good do him)
Has been full serviceable to him,
And all this only for a Jeast
I put upon him at a Feast.
But had I thought hee'd been so lodden
Of his bak't, fry'd, boild, rost, and sodden,
I should (I am not such a Noddy)
Have jeasted with some other Body.
Thou know'st what liberty of jeasting
Every one takes when they are feasting,
Where we throw Cushions, Chairs, and Stools,
And none but Children, or meer fools

Any thing ever do take ill,
Let a man do what e're he will:
But evermore the better sort
Turn all to raillery and sport.
But for one, of the state he is,
To let such a poor thing as this
(Scarcely the shadow of a wrong)
Lye festering in his heart so long,
And to this damnable degree
To wreak his Anger as you see,
In my poor judgment is a part
So much below the generous heart
Not only of a God to do,
And of all Gods the Soveraign too:
But even of a Gentleman,
A civil, and a well-bred man:
For if such honest Liberties,
Such pastimes, and such tricks as these
Must banisht be from merry meetings;
I fain would know what at such sittings
There will be left to do, but fill
One's Guts like bruits, to munch and swill,

Which is unfit (if I am able
To judge) of any civil Table.
I did not then, I swear, imagine
He would have taken't in such dudgin;
Or that hee'd had so little wit,
As the next day to think of it;
Much less he would have been so canker'd,
So false a Brother of the Tankard,
As to have plagu'd me in this sort
For what I only did in sport.
What? if in play, I made one Mess
Than others something worse and less,
And offer'd 'um to his refusing,
Only to try his wit in choosing?
Was that so hainous an offence,
He must bear malice ever since,
And nourish such a damn'd malignity,
As if the uttermost indignity,
Both to his Person, and his Crown,
I offer'd had that e're was known?
But come now, at the worst let's take it,
And mak't as ill, as ill can make it;

Suppose then, more than th'didst at first,
Not only that his share was worst;
But that hee'd had no part at all;
Must he for this make all this brawl,
And must he (as th'old saying is)
For such a trivial toy as this
A thing indeed not worth a feather)
Shuffle both Heav'n and Earth together;
And of one meal for the great losses,
Of nothing talk but Stocks, and Crosses,
Wracks, Gibbets, and these new devices
Of Vultures, Rocks, and Precipices!
Let him take heed, when this is bruited,
That this proceeding been't imputed
To an unworthiness of Spirit:
I promise you I greatly fear it.
For a great thing, I fain would know,
What would this Thunderer stick to do,
Who makes this strange unheard of clutter
For loosing of his bread and butter?
How many men would scorn this odd,
This strange proceeding of a God!

Does any History relate,
That ever man of any state,
So greedy was, or passionate,
To make, or put his Cook away
For licking of his fingers pray?
Or if a Tripe, or so, he rifles,
One ne're regards such petty Trifles;
Or if one do chastise him for it,
'Tis only with a kick, or whirret:
But for so small a Peccadill
To send a man up Holborn-hill:
An act is of an odious dye,
And an unheard of cruelty!

Thus much to say, I've tane occasion,
To th'first point of my accusation;
Wherein so pitiful's the matter
Which does my innocence bespatter,
That (though I do not often use it)
I almost blush't but to excuse it;
They then may sure blush well enough
Who charge me with such wretched stuff.

Let's now to the next Charge proceed,

And that's a hainous one indeed,
The Making man; wherein I am
To seek 'gainst what you would declaim:
Whether the thing a Crime you call
Consist in making man at all;
Or that it only is the fashion
That wants your worships approbation?
But wee'l examine both, that's fair;
And to the first I do declare,
The Gods so far from loosing are,
Any thing by this new Creation,
That (if they would be folks of fashion,
And with their Neighbours would be quiet)
They'r infinitely gainers by it.
And (though they will be so outrageous)
For them 'tis much more advantageous,
That there be men, though they be evil,
Deform'd, and wicked as the Devil,
And good, or bad, or low, or tall,
Then that there should be none at all.
And (back into past time to go)
In the beginning you must know,

The world, which now no Tenants wants,
Save Gods, had no Inhabitants.
At which good time the Earth (alass!)
Naught but a vast wild Desart was,
All over grown with Trees, and Bushes,
Mansions for Black-birds, Jayes, and Thrushes,
Where there nor riding was, nor walking,
Good store of Game, but no good Hawking,
Where Herds of Deer did graze, and fill 'um,
But no body to hunt and kill 'um.
For, whence (Sir Mercury) by your leave,
Do you in your wise head conceive,
Come all those goodly well-till'd fields,
That so good Wheat and Barley yield;
Whence these fine Gardens with their flowers,
These Temples with their stately Towers,
Of Altars all this mighty store,
And Statues which the world adore,
And several things that I could mention;
But from man's labour, and invention.
Therefore as I who from a Groom
No bigger then a Millers Thumb,

Have still been taking daily pains,
And cudgelling about my brains
To find inventions out that shou'd
Conduce unto the publick good,
Was musing after my old rate,
And meditating this and that,
An old Diogenes in Tub-like
For something useful to the publick:
As Poets sing, without delay
I took some water, and some clay,
And tempring them together

Betwixt his finger and his thumb.

thus,
E'en made a Man like one of us.
Wherein Minerva was an Actress,
(I'le not conceal my Benefactress)
And this is all, as I am civil,
That I committed have of Evil.
A mighty matter (without doubt)
For Jove to keep this stir about!
But what complain the Gods of trow?
What is it that offend them so!
Do not my Creatures them adore?
Are they less Gods now, than before

I undertook this Puppets trade,
And Male and Female Babies made?
For but to see how Jupiter
Does fret, and fume, and stamp, and stare,
Threaten, and huff, and swear, and swagger,
And clap his hand on dudgeon Dagger,
A man would think that he had lost
The half of his Estate almost,
At least his Grand-fathers Seal-Ring
Or some most dear beloved thing.
What? is his Majesty afraid
Those dapper fellows I have made,
Against his power should rant and roar,
As did the Gyants heretofore!
Or if they should turn Mutineers,
(Which yet they dare not for their ears)
Is he who could the Sons of Titan
(For all their huffing) make be --- 'um,
Much more reduce them all to reason,
Grown feebler now, then at that season?
The Gods then by my fine device
Sustain no kind of prejudice.

But to shew forth, and make it plain
That they by my invention gain,
Do but behold the Earth, which was
In former dayes a barren place,
With Thorns and Brambles over-spread:
But now improv'd, and husbanded,
Affording things innumerable
To cloth mans back, and store his Table.
For of it self it nought produces
But Crabs, and Fruits of sower Juyces.
Nay, ev'n the Sea is, in some fashion,
Appeas'd, and tam'd by Navigation.
The Islands are inhabited,
The Worlds round face with Cities spread,
Where men do Sacrifice, and pray
On many a merry Holy-day.
In short (as the small Poet sayes)
Temples, Towns, Streets, nay the High-wayes,
(As oft as people travel there)
Are all brim full of Jupiter.
Again, if one could make a story,
That I had aim'd at my own glory

In doing this, it something were;
But it does contrary appear:
For 'mongst so many Fanes that rise
To such a Crew of Deities,
Of any one did'st hear't related
Unto Prometheus dedicated?
Which does sufficiently declare,
That I my one particular
Honour, and Interest have neglected,
And but the Publick nought respected.
Consider further (Mercury)
That what we call felicity
Without a witness looking on,
Can be but an imperfect one,
And that if Mortals there were none
To see this great Creation,
The World would be but a dead Mass,
And our advantages much less
(Though the strange Fabrick well require it)
In having no one to admire it.
Again, as things to us are known
But only by Comparison;

So if unhappy men were none,
Our happiness would be unknown;
And for such benefits as these,
In stead of giving me large Fees,
At least great honour for reward,
You crucifie me, which goes hard,
That smart unto my feeling Sence
Must be my Vertues recompence.
But what! there are Adulterers,
Murtherers, Robbers, Ravishers,
Perhaps you'l argue amongst men:
Why, if there are, I pray what then?
Are there not amongst us the same,
As void of honesty and shame;
And yet for this we don't condemn
The Heav'n and Earth that nourish't them.
But you will adde perhaps this more,
That we've more trouble than before,
And are put to't to find supplies
For many more necessities:
Who ever heard, I know would fain,
A Shepheard of his Flock complain

For fruitfulness, though they ean'd double,
Because they help't him to more trouble?
If painful 'tis, 'tis profitable,
Nay pleasant too, and honorable;
And this advantage brings with't too,
It finds us something still to do;
Whereas we otherwise should go
With hands in pockets every day,
And nothing have to do but play;
Or swill and guttle every day
With Nectar and Ambrosia.
But that at which most vext I am,
Is to hear those the most exclaim
Of men, who least can be without 'um,
And if they women meet do rout 'um,
For the fine knacks they wear about 'um.
And, though they keep this mighty puther,
Do love them more than any other.
Nay, and each day to thousand shapes
Transform themselves to act their Rapes,
And not contented (as they say)
To take a snatch, and so away:

But that they may stick longer to't,
Ev'n make them Goddesses to boot.
But some may say, that I had reason,
And that Man-making was no treason,
Only it should not have been thus,
To make him like to one of us.
And could I in ingenuous Noddle
Have chosen out a fitter Model
Whereby my art might be exprest,
Than what I knew was perfectest?
Had I begun my making Trade
With four-legg'd Beasts, and Brutes had made,
Perhaps it would have been no sin,
And I no Criminal had been:
But from such Creatures of meer sence,
Devoid of all intelligence,
With faces prone, and looks dejected,
What service could you have expected?
The Gods had been without dispute
Most rarely worship't by a Brute:
A great Bull would have been, I fear,
But an obstreperous worshipper,

And bellowing Prayers I'me afraid,
Great Jupiter would have dismaid.
An Ass, or Horse, in sensless wise
Would bray, or whinny Liturgies.
To hear (Sir Merc'ry) it would fear yee,
A Wolf houl out a miserere,
And t'hear a Lyon, worse than that,
Roaring out a Magnificat.
Come, come (my Masters) say I must,
That you are horribly unjust.
You stick not far as Ægypt rome
Only to snuff a Hecatomb,
And him the cause, your malice dooms
You Altars have and Hecatombs.
But come enough of this! Let's on
To my last Accusation;
The stealing fire: and first have I
Impoverish't any Deity
By having given it to men?
Or have you now less fire, than when
I had therewith inspired no Creature?
And is it not the proper nature

Of that warm Element to dart
It's rayes and heat to every part,
And yet still to continue fire,
Keeping its vertue still entire?
Then what a vain Objection's this,
A poor fetch, and a meer Caprice,
Below, and unbefitting all
The Poets Benefactors call!
Besides, had I purloyned, even
To the last spark of fire in Heav'n,
I had not wrong'd the Gods a bit:
They boyl no Pot, nor turn no Spit;
For your Ambrosia does not need
To be or hash't, or fricasseed.
A Cook may there forget his Trade,
Where nor Pottage, nor Olia's made:
Whereas poor men, contrary wise,
Want it for their necessities,
If for no other use at all
But t'Sacrifice to you withal.
Do you not love to smell the Roast
Of a good Rammish Holocaust?

So that 'tis plain (for all pretences)
You speak against your Consciences.
I wonder (hang me if I don't)
Since this is such a great affront,
And of your fire since y'are so wary;
You han't forbid Don Luminary
T'impart his Light, which is, I'me sure,
A fire more glorious, and more pure,
And that t'orethrow the use of Dial,
You do not bring him to his Trial
For having thus, without all measure,
Profusely squander'd out your Treasure,
And like a treacherous Trust-breaker,
Lewdly embezzel'd your Exchequer.
This is (you pair of Jove's Bumbayliffs,
Or Hangmen rather) sum totalis
Of what I'de for my self to say:
If you confute me can, you may:
But (for I ever lov'd plain dealing)
(O Mercury, thou God stealing)
To tell thee the plain truth o'th' story,
'Tis past, I doubt, thy Oratory:

But do me right, pledge and 'twere water,
Reply although not much to th'matter.

Merc.
It is not easie (I confess)
To baffle such a plate of brass;
For in my dayes I ne're did hear
So impudent a Sophister.
And well's thee Jupiter's not near thee,
Who, had he chanc't to over-hear thee,
I confidently do assure thee
Thou would'st have so provok't his fury,
By slandring him under pretence
Of pleading in thy own defence,
So vilely slandring him; that he
For such a grand indignity,
Would in his indignation,
Have sent thee down, instead of one,
A dozen Vultures of a feather
To prey upon thy Lungs together.
But tell me why thou being a Prophet,
(For surely thou knew'st nothing of it)
Had'st not the knowledge to foresee
The evil was to fall on thee?

Promet.
Oh (Mercury) hold thee content:
One may foresee, but not prevent.
I did foresee it well enough;
Of which to give thee further proof,
Know that I likewise did foresee
A

Hercules.

Theban should deliver me,
One of thy old acquaintance, and
A proper fellow of his hand,
Who with a lusty Bolt and Tiller
Will come and be my Vultures killer.

Merc.
I wish he were already come,
And that in Jove's great dining Room,
We were with each one a good thwittle
Again set down to swill, and vittle,
Provided (Signior) do you see,
That you should not the Carver be,
Especially (my Friend) for me.

Promet.
Why thou wilt see me there again,
Marry, I cannot just say when:
But I will tell thee 'twixt us two,
I shall so rare a service do
For Jupiter, that for my labour

He will restore me to his favour.

Merc.
What service is it that so great is?

Pro.
Thou know'st a Lass call'd Madam Thetis,
A pretty little wanton Drab:
But I a secret will not blab
That is to purchase and advance
My peace and my deliverance.

Merc.
If it be so, thou do'st full well,
Yea, and full wisely not to tell:
But Vulcan come, we must away,
For yonder is the Bird of prey,
I see him in a Kill-duck place,
Ready to make a stoop; alass!
Beware thy Liver now, I'me sorry
(Prometheus) very sorry for yee,
And wish thy Liberator were
As ready, as the danger's near.

THE DIALOGUES OF THE GODS.

Prometheus and Jupiter.

Pro.
Oh, Jupiter! I'me glad to see thee;
And now th'art here, take pity prethee
Upon a poor old Cinque and Quater,
Has paid for playing the Creator.
In truth I've suffer'd out of reason,
And eke withal so long a season,
That if thou would'st be good condition'd,
Thou'dst think that it were e'en sufficient
For a far greater Fault than mine is,
And to my torments put a Finis.
Never was Man tormented thus!
Hang me if this same Caucasus

Be not the coldest Habitation
I think in all the whole Creation;
And 'twixt the Vulture, and the weather,
The Cold, the Kite, or both together;
Although I do not eat a jot,
(Saving thy presence) I have got
So damn'd a griping in my Guts,
That, as I'de surfeited of Nuts,
I've thirty stools a day at least;
Then prethee let me be releast,
For I have purg'd so wondrous sore,
That truly I can do no more.

Jupit.
Who, I release thee, that's a good one!
Release a Rogue, release a pudden.
I would thou could'st perswade me to it:
For what I prethee should I do it?
For which of the fine prancks th'ast plaid?
The pretty Fellows thou hast made,
Have caus'd such mischief 'mongst the Gods,
That we e're since have been at odds.
Or, for thy filching fire from Heaven
To animate the uncouth Leaven;

Or, which of Crimes is not the least,
Cheating thy Master at a Feast.
When, like a sawcy ill-bred waiter,
Thou for thy self the flesh could'st Cater,
And trayt'rously, and for the nones,
Mad'st me thy Dogg to pick thy Bones?
For which, Sir Sawce-box, dost thou see,
Since thou'lt make Men, I'le unmake thee,
And I have hung your Worship there
In this convenient nipping Air,
As I conceiv'd it did require
To cool thee after stealing fire:
And as to those thy Belly-gripes,
Know Rogue my Vulture loves fat Tripes,
And I will feed him upon thine,
Because thou once defeated'st mine.

Promet.
But for these faults, and for a score
Greater than these, nay twenty more,
Have I not suffer'd full enough?
For though my Hide be well and tough,
Thou know'st it is not made of Buff,
And neither Frost, nor Vulture proof.

Besides this Vulture, by this light,
Is the plain Devil of a Kite:
His hooked black desormed beak
I think through Mars his shield would peck;
His feet, wherewith my sides he tickles,
Have Talons more like Scyths than Sickles;
When he's in's place high in the Air,
He seems as bigg as Cossioare,
Where sometime lying on his wings,
After a few preparing rings,
He makes his stoop, and down he comes,
(Whilst fear my very heart benums)
With such a whirlwind and a powder,
That though thy Thunder may be lowder,
Thy Lightning is not half so quick;
Nor does it make one half so sick,
And gives my Liver such a thump,
That the blow ecchoes at my rump.
Then fastning in my Ribs his pounces,
He tears my Stomach out by ounces;
Preys on my Liver, Lights, and Lungs,
And in my Paunch his beak bedungs.

So that but even Yesternight,
Coming to take his supping flight,
As in my bowels he was tugging,
He lights upon a Master-pudding,
Which as he pull'd still, still did follow
So much more fast, than he could swallow,
That had I not (upon my word)
Because I know thou lov'st the Bird,
With my teeth caught him by the Train,
Hee'd ne're on Carrion prey'd again.
Therefore if all the miseries
I have endur'd will not suffice;
Yet let this one good office do't,
And ease me at my humble suit.

Jup.
Were th'pains, whereof thou dost complain,
As many and as great again:
Yet were they not the hundred part
Of what is justly thy desert.
Thou should'st by Caucasus, thou Scab,
Be crush't as flat as Verjuyce Crab,
And not be only ty'de unto it,
To choak a Spar-hawk with thy Suet.

Nay, thou art such a Malefactor,
And in all ills so vile an Actor,
As should not only have thy Liver
Prey'd on by twenty Kites together;
But yet moreover have thine eyes
Pick't out to pay thy treacheries,
And even thy felonious heart,
Had'st thou but half of thy desert.

Pro.
Well, thou may'st follow thine own will,
And if thou wilt torment me still:
But if thou would'st but be contented
To pardon me, thou'dst ne're repent it:
For I shall such a caution give thee,
Will make thee glad thou did'st reprieve me.

Jup.
What? I perceive now thou would'st fain
Be loose to gull me once again.

Promet.
Prethee by that what should I get?
Can'st thou Mount Caucasus forget?
Or if there yet were no such place,
Hast thou nor thousand other wayes,
Whose pow'rs so uncontroul'd and ample,
To make me a most sad example?

Jupit.
Come, come, I cannot stay to prattle,
Nor hear thy idle tittle tattle.
What (for no more thou now shalt dorre me)
If I release thee wilt do for me?
Come leave thy wheedling, and thy cogging,
And tell me, for I must be jogging.

Pro.
Wilt thou not take it Jove in dudging,
If I now tell thee where th'art trudging;
And wilt thou henceforth now believe me,
And in thy heart that credit give me,
If I tell truth unto a tittle,
That I can prophesie a little?

Jupit.
What else?

Promet.
Why then, to cure thy itching,
Jove, thou now going art a bitching,
And so immoderate thy heat is
As none can quench but Nereide Thetis.

Jupit.
Well if I should play such a feat,
What Issue shall we two beget?

Promet.
What Issue, marry out upon her!
By no means meddle with that Spawner:
For if thou dost, I'le tell thee what,

A graceless Child will be begot
Betwixt thee and that blew-ey'd Slattern,
Will depose thee as thou did'st Saturn:
At least so threat the Destinies:
And therefore if thou wilt be wise,
Let her alone, and come not at her,
But elsewhere lead thy Nagg to water.

Jup.
Well since th'ast hit the nayl o'th head,
I'le once by thy advice be led,
And for thy counsels recompence,
Vulcan shall come and loose thee hence.
For all past faults I quit thee clear.

Promet.
Why then I thank thee Jupiter.

DIALOGUE.

Jupiter and Cupid.

Cupid.
Ah Jupiter, I prethee hear,
For thine own sake good Jupiter,
If I am guilty of a Crime,
Do but forgive me this one time,
And if I e're do so agin
Then whip me till the blood do spin.

What? will not Jove be reconcil'd,
But still bear malice to a Child?

Jupit.
A Child, thou little Rakehell thou!
A pretty Child thou art I trow;
Older than Japhet, little Hang-string,
Though one might wear thee in his Band-string.
And then for art and subtilty,
Prometheus is an Ass to thee.

Cupid.
That Painters best and Poets know,
Who ever represent me so,
And unto them I do refer it;
Who, if they are put to't, will swear it:
But were I what thou'dst have me be,
What mischief have I done to thee,
That ought t'engage thine indignation,
To use me on this cruel fashion?

Jupit.
What dost thou ask me, Nere-be-good?
When thou hast so enflam'd my blood,
That as I Philters swallow'd had,
I every day run whynnying mad,
For every woman that I see;
And yet thou mak'st not one love me:

So that each day to feed my Vices,
I'me put to pump for new devices,
And to put on a thousand shapes,
The better to commit my Rapes.

Cupid.
That is because the woman fear thee,
And therefore tremble to come near thee.

Jupit.
And yet the ill condition'd Toads
Can love forsooth the other Gods,
Apollo he can have his Joyes
Both with the Wenches and the Boyes.

Cupid.
The cause of that is quickly guess't,
He's handsome, and goes sprucely drest,
And yet for all his powder'd locks,
His Songs and Sonnets, with a Pox,
And that he goes so fine and trim,
Daphne could never fancy him:
Nor could he e're her liking move,
So absolutely free is Love.
But would'st thou spend each day and hour
In dressing, and not look so sowre,
Which (in plain truth) does mainly fright 'um;
I make no question but thou'dst smite 'um.

But then it will be requisite,
If thou wilt turn a Carpet Knight,
To lay those by all women dread,
Thy Thunder and thy Gorgons-head.

Jup.
What Rogue! would'st have me to lay by
The Ensigns of my Deity:
That's pleasant counsel, faith, but yet
I think I shall not follow it:
No sirrah, I shall more prefer
The Dignity of Jupiter.

Cupid.
Then thou must women let alone.

Jupit.
No, I shall wench still ten to one.
And yet (for all thy haste) not bate
One inch or tittle of my state.
Howe're, since thou so well hast prated,
My anger is for once abated,
And I forgive thee all old grutches.

Cupid.
I'me glad I'me got out of his clutches.

DIALOGUE.

Mercury and Jupiter.

Jupit.
Dost thou know Iô, Mercury?

Merc.
Iô! yes surely, let me see,
Oh, Inachus his pretty Daughter!

Jup.
The same, thou know'st I long have sought her;
And now at last that I have caught her
Do'st think but Juno my curst Froe,
Has turn'd the Girl into a Cow,
Out of pure Jealousie to cheat me,
And of my pleasure to defeat me,
And has deliver'd her to keep
T'a Monster that does never sleep;
But having eyes in every place,
Even in his arse, as well as face,
A hundred spread all o're his parts,
Both where he speaks, and where he farts;
Whilst some of them a nap do take,
Others are evermore awake:
So that unless I had a spell
To Bull my Cow invisible,

I ne're can think to take him napping,
And from his sight there's no escaping:
But thou I know a way canst tell
To rid me of this Centinel;
Thou wit and courage hast enough;
Prethee now put them both to proof:
Go then to the Nemean Grove,
Where the soul Monster guards my love,
And for my sake take so much pains,
As fairly to knock out his brains.
When having batter'd his thick skull,
To Ægypt drive my lovely Mull,
Where they shall pay her Sacrifices
Under th'adored name of Isis.
There she shall sway the winds and waves,
And be the Queen of Galley-slaves.

Merc.
I go, and if I find him once,
With my Battoon I'le bang his sconce
So pretty well, as shall suffice
To put out all his hundred eyes.

DIALOGUE.

Jupiter and Ganimede.

Jup.
Come kiss me pretty little stranger,
Now that we are got clear from danger.
And that to please my pretty Boy,
I've laid my Beak and Talons by:

Ganim.
What are become of them I trowe
Thou had'st them on but even now.
Did'st thou not come where I did keep,
Thinking no harm, my Fathers Sheep,
In Eagles shape, and with a swoop,
Like a small Chicken, truss me up.
And art thou now turn'd Man? this change
Is very wonderfully strange,
Sure thou art one of those same folk as
I've heard 'um call a Hocus-pocus.

Jupit.
No, my sweet Boy, thou tell'st a flam,
Nor Eagle I, nor Jugler am:
But Soveraign of the Gods, who have
Transform'd my self (my pretty Knave)
Into these Man and Eagles shapes,
To snap my little Jack-anapes.

Ganim.
Sure thou art our God Pan, and yet
Thou hast no horns, nor cloven feet;
Nor yet a Pipe that I do see,
The marks of that great Deity.

Jupit.
Know'st thou no other Gods but he?

Ganim.
No, but to him I know, that we
Ev'ry year Sacrifice a Goat
Before the Entry of his Grot:
And as for thee (although with trembling)
I tell thee plain, without dissembling,
I judge thee for to be no better,
Than that bad thing some call a Setter,
Others a Spirit, that doth lye
In wait to catch up Infantry,
Who give them plums, and fine tales tell 'um,
To steal them first, and after sell 'um.

Jup.
But, heark thee Child! did'st never hear
Of a great God call'd Jupiter?
Did'st never see upon a high-day
An Altar drest upon Mount Ida,
Where folks come crowding far and near
To offer to the Thunderer?

Ganim.
What art thou he that makes the rattle
I'th' air which frights both Men and Cattle,
Sowers all the Milk, and doth so clatter,
Both above ground, and under water,
That men not dare to shew their heads,
Nor Eeles lye quiet in their beds?
If thou be that same Jupiter,
To thee my Father every Year
Does Sacrifice a Tup, a good one:
Then speak in truth, and conscience, would one
Be so ungrateful a Curmudgel,
To steal away his Age's Cudgel?
Besides, what have I done, I pray,
Should make thee Spirit me away?
Who knows but now, whil'st I'me in Heaven,
My flock being left at Six and Seaven,
The Wolf's amongst them breaking's fast;
Nay perhaps worry'ng up the last.

Jupit.
Why let the Wolf e'en play the Glutton,
'Tis but a little rotten mutton.
Fie what a whimp'ring do'st thou keep,
For a few mangy lowsie Sheep.

Thou must forget such things (my Lad)
Why thou art now immortal made,
Fellow t'th' Gods, and therefore now
Must think no more of things below.

Ganim.
What then I warrant, Jupiter,
Thou dost intend to keep me here,
And wilt not deign to make a stoop
To set me where thou took'st me up?

Jupit.
I think I shall not (my small friend)
For if I do I loose my end,
And all that I by that should gain
Would be my labour for my pain.

Ganim.
I but my Sire will angry be,
So angry when he misses me,
That he will soundly firk my dock
For thus abandoning his flock.

Jupit.
For that (my pretty Boy) ne're fear;
For thou shalt alwayes tarry here.

Ganim.
Nay but I wonnot, so I wonnot,
Nor you shan't keep me, no you shannot,
Spite of your Nose, and will-ye, will-ye?
I will go home again, that will I:

But if thou would'st so far befriend me,
As set me down where thou did'st find me,
I'le sacrifice (I do not mock)
To thee the fairest Tup i'th' flock.

Jupit.
Thou'rt simple and a Child indeed,
To think that I such Off'rings need!
Tup mutton's t'me the worst of meat,
And thou too must such things forget;
Thou'rt now in Heav'n fit to do
Thy Father Good and Country too:
Nor need'st thou now his anger fear,
His arm's too short to reach thee here;
Nor shalt thou henceforth dread the Rod,
Thou no more Boy art but a God.
Far better fare thou shalt find here,
Than that same sower-sawc't whipping Chear:
Far better here thou shalt be fed,
Than with hard crusts of dry brown-bread,
Sowre milk, salt butter, and hard cheese:
No, thou shalt feed, instead of these,
Or your slip-slap of Curds and Whey,
On Nectar and Ambrosia.

And if thou'lt do as thou should'st do,
Shalt see thy Constellation too,
Shine brighter, and in higher place
Than all the rest the Sky that grace.

Ganim.
I, but when I've a mind to play,
What play-fellows are here I pray?
For every day (excepting Friday)
I'de play-fellows ding-dong on Ida.

Jupit.
Why Cupid shall attend thy call,
To play at Cat, at Trap, or Ball,
Dust-point, Span-counter, Skittle-pins,
And thou no more shall play for pins:
But have a care, the little Guts
Will be too hard for thee at Butts.
Thou'st have thy belly full of sport,
I give thee here my promise for't,
And brave sport too, but then (I trow)
Thou must forget the things below.

Ganim.
Well, but thou hast not told me yet
What I must do to earn my meat?
Hast thou here any flocks of Sheep
To send me out a dayes to keep?

Jupit.
No, thou a life shalt have much fairer;
Thou to the Gods shalt be Cup-bearer,
And purest Nectar to them fill
Whilst at their merry-Feasts they swill.

Ganim.
Is that same Nectar, which they drink,
Better than Red-Cows-milk dost think?

Jup.
Thou'dst ne're drink other whilst life lasted
Hadst thou but once that liquor tasted.

Ganim.
But then where must I lye anights?
For I am monstrous fraid of Sprites;
I hope in hot, and in cold weather,
Cupid and I must lye together.

Jupit.
No (sirrah) thou shalt lye with me;
For therefore did I spirit thee.

Ganim.
Why art not thou, poor little one,
Old enough yet to lye alone?

Jupit.
Yes; but there is a certain joy
In lying with a pretty Boy.

Gan.
A pretty Boy! that's better yet,
What's Beauty when one cannot see't?
When one is fast asleep (I wis)
One little cares for prettiness.

Jup.
That's true, but dreams proceed from it,
Which are so tickling, and so sweet.

Gan.
But when I pig'd with mine own Dad,
I us'd to make him hopping mad,
Who as he lay abed would grumble,
That I did nought but toss and tumble,
Talk in my sleep, and pacot, I kick
His sides and paunch so hard and thick,
He could not sleep one wink all night:
For which, so soon as e're 'twas light,
He pack't me to my Mother duly.
Seeing then in Bed I'me so unruly,
If thou did'st only bring me hither
That thou and I might lye together,
Thou may'st e'en set me down again;
For I shall certain be thy bain.

Jupit.
Why kick thy worst, my little Brat,
I like thee ne're the worse for that:
'Tis better far than lying still,
But I can kiss thee there my fill.

Ganim.
Why, each one as he likes (you know)
Quo'th' good man when he kiss't his Cow;

You may do what you will, but I
Shall sleep the while most certainly.

Jup.
Well, well! for that as time shall try:
In the mean time, you Mercury,
Here take and make my pretty Page
Drink the immortal Beverage,
That after I may him prefer
To be my chiefest Cup-bearer:
But e're to wait you bring him up,
First teach him to present the Cup.

DIALOGUE.

Juno and Jupiter.

Jun.
Why what a strange life dost thou lead!
Since thou hast got this Ganimede.
I, who have been thy faithful wife
Can't get a kiss to save my life;
But thou do'st look so strangely on me,
As if till now thou ne're had'st known me.

Jupit.
What will not wife thy jealous pate,
To vex thy self and me, create?

Was such a Jealousie e're known,
To that degree of frensie grown,
As to run supposition mad
Of a poor simple harmless Lad!
I thought none but the female kind
Could raise such whimsies in thy mind.

Juno.
Nay (faith) thou'rt ex'lent at both trades,
Both at thine Ingles, and thy Jades.
And all my chiding's to no end;
I think thou art too old to mend:
Else, mauger thy bad inclination,
Thou'dst tender more thy Reputation.
Do'st fit the King of Gods I pray,
To Masquerade it every day,
And to transform himself one while
To Gold, a Virgin to beguile,
Another while into a Bull,
To make another Maid a Trull,
And then into a Swan, to try
The treading way of Letchery;
And to put on all these strange shapes
In order to adult'ron Rapes?

And yet for all thy prancks on Earth
(Unfitting far thy place and birth)
Thou hitherto hast ever yet
Had either so much Grace, or Wit,
Manners, or Shame, or altogether,
As not to bring thy Trollops hither,
As thou hast done this Dandiprat,
For all the Gods to titter at,
And all under pretence the Youth
Must be your Cup-bearer forsooth:
As all the Gods inhabit here,
Unworthy of the Office were,
As if my daughter Hebe was;
Or Vulcan weary of the place;
Or any of the Gods indeed,
Might not perform it for a need.
And then, which more does vex me still,
He never does the Goblet fill,
And ready with it waiting stand,
But e're thou tak'st it at his hand,
Thou fall'st a kissing him 'fore all
The Gods in the Olympick Hall;

Which thou do'st too with so much passion,
And after such immodest fashion,
That the Boyes kisses one would think,
Were sweeter than the Heav'nly drink.
Nay, thou full oft for drink dost call,
When th'ast no list to drink at all,
No more than thou hast need to piss:
Only a meer pretence to kiss.
Sometimes thou mak'st him drink to thee,
A kind of slav'ring Letchery,
Of which the meaning's only this,
To place thy mouth where he did his,
Which ravishes thee, whilst thou think'st,
Thou kissest all the while thou drink'st.
'Twas a fine sight last day to see
Thy little Catamite, and thee
Playing at Nine-peggs with such heat,
That mighty Jupiter did sweat
In Querpo, to th'beholders wonder,
Devested of his Shield and Thunder.
I both know all thy pranks and thee,
Think not to make a fool of me.

Jup.
Hey! whirre! I think our Dame's grown wild;
What harm's in kissing a fine Child;
And adding that delight to Nectar,
That I must have this Curtain-Lecture?
If thou but tasted had'st the blisses
Are wrapt up in his luscious kisses,
Thou would'st be of another mind,
And not reproach me in this kind.

Juno.
I thought that I should trap thee soon,
Now thou speak'st perfect Bougeroon.
I should have little wit (I trow)
And very little vertue too,
Should I defile my lips so much,
As such an Urchin once to touch.

Jupit.
That Urchin thou dost so despise,
And speak'st of in such taunting wise,
Pleases me more (my haughty Dame)
Than some Body I will not name.
Urge me not to't, thou wert not best,
And cease my pleasure to contest.

Juno.
Not I, I shall not be so rash:
No prethee marry thy Bardach.

To spite me worse: Go hug thy Chit:
But yet withal do not forget
How thou dost use me on the score
Of this thy little stripling whore.

Jupit.
I know what 'tis, thou'dst have thy Gripple
Wait here, and fill me out my Tipple,
When he comes with his dirty Golls
From raking up his smutty coals,
Sweating and stinking from his Forge,
Enough to make one to disgorge,
And in this cleanly plight, I know
Thou fain would'st have me kiss him too:
Even when he doth so nasty seem
That thou his Mother keck'st at him.
It would be wisely done (no doubt)
For such a foul unseemly Lout
To put away my Ganimede,
So sweet a Boy, so finely bred,
And (which thy mind does more molest
A hundred times than all the rest)
Whose every delicious kiss,
Is sweeter far than Nectar is.

Juno.
I, I, my Son thou dost abhor,
Now thou hast this trim Servitor:
But till thou had'st this Skip-Jack got,
With Vulcan thou did'st find no fault.
And all his collow, and his soot,
His dirt, and sweat, and stink to boot,
Not hindred, but thou took'st delight
Both in his service, and his sight.

Jupit.
Thou dreadful scold, thy din surcease,
And (if thou can'st) once hold thy peace.
Thy Jealousie does but improve
My indignation, and my Love.
Let Vulcan serve thee as he did,
If thou dislikest Ganimed:
But hang me if I drink a sup,
Unless my Boy present the Cup.
Nay, at each draught, I'le tell thee more,
Hee'st give me kisses half a score.
Come, come, my pretty Favourite,
Do not thou whimper for her spite.
Let who dares vex my Boy, thou'st see,
I'le order 'um I warrant thee.

DIALOGUE.

Juno and Jupiter.

Juno.
Now Jupiter that none is near us
To hearken, or to over-hear us;
Tell me, I prethee, and be clear,
What think'st thou of this Ixion here?

Jupit.
Why, I think Ixion (wife) true-blew,
An honest man as e're I knew,
A sturdy piece of flesh, and proper,
A merry Grig, and a true Toper.
Nor had I, but I thought him so,
Made so much on him as I do;
Neither, but that I understood
His Company was very good,
Had I (be sure) been so affable,
As to admit him to my Table.

Juno.
See, see, how one may be deceiv'd!
'Tis odds I shall not be believ'd:
But Ixion is (without offence)
The sawci'st piece of insolence,

That ever came within thy doors;
And fitter mate for Rogues and Whores
By much, than (Jupiter) for thee,
Or any of thy Family.
Nay, fitter for his

Because he kill'd his Father in law.

former pranks,
As well as these, the Hang-mans thanks,
As he now handled has the matter,
Than put his spoon into thy platter.
Yet thou may'st entertain him still
Only to Gourmandize and swill:
But, for my part, I'le ne're endure him;
Nor shall he stay here I'le assure him.

Jupit.
What has he done to move thee thus,
Come prethee now be serious,
And tell me true, nay quickly do it;
For I am resolute to know it?

Juno.
What has he done? why 'tis so wicked,
That truly I'me asham'd to speak it.

Jup.
What? with some Goddess hee'd have been
Playing belike at In and In,
And would be at the Rutting sport?
For so thy words seem to import.

Juno.
Well, and do'st thou conceive that fit,
That thou do'st make so light of it?
Is that no fault; nay could he yet
A Crime more capital commit?
That's it indeed, th'ast hit upon't,
And greater still to make th'affront,
No body else could serve the Youth,
But even I my self forsooth.
I did not heed his love at first,
Not dreaming that the Rascal durst
Have aim'd at me, but at the last,
Observing what Sheeps-eyes he cast,
What sighs he fetch't, how now and then
He wept, and sigh't, and wept agen,
Drank after me, and then would leer,
And kiss the Cup; I then saw clear,
Though ne're before I did suspect it,
His folly was to me directed.
Yet still I thought time would blow over
This humor of my sawcy Lover,
Wherefore (though vext) I thus long drove it,
Asham'd I swear to tell thee of it;

Till now at last the sawcy Ass,
Has put on such a brazen face,
As without all respect to be
So bold as to solicit me.
But now to speak 'tis more than time,
When to conceal it were a crime:
And therefore, flying from his tears,
And stopping with both hands both ears,
From being guilty Auditors
Of what my Vertue so abhors,
I straight came running unto thee,
Fast as my leggs would carry me,
To tell thee how this Goat, this Satyr,
This Rogue, this Slave, this Fornicator,
Whom thou hast entertain'd, and fed,
Attempts the honor of thy Bed,
To th'end thou may'st the Whelp chastise,
In just and exemplary wise.

Jupit.
This is a daring Rogue, I swear,
T'attempt to cuckold Jupiter!
It was the Nectar in his pate,
That did this insolence create:

But I my self, I must confess,
Am cause of these miscarriages,
By over-loving Mortals so
Extravagantly as I do,
And by permitting them to be
Over-familiar and too free
With my Divinity and me;
He else had ne're attempted thee.
For 'tis no wonder when they eat
The very same provoking meat,
And liquor drink the blood that fires,
If they have then the same desires,
And quite forgetting then their duties,
Are smitten with immortal Beauties.
Besides thou know'st as well as I
So much of Cupids Tyranny,
So great no Tyrant here above is
Near, as that little Bastard Love is.

Juno.
He master is of thee indeed,
And thee still by the nose does lead,
(As the old saying is) and makes
Thee play a thousand sensless freaks:

But come, I faith, I faith, I know
What makes thee pity Ixion so.
To pardon him thou art inclin'd,
'Cause he but pays thee in thy kind:
Time was thou his wife did'st dishonor,
And gatt'st Perithoüs upon her.

Jupit.
Fie, will that never be forgot?
Come I'le acquaint thee with my plot.
It would to banish him appear
A sentence somewhat too severe;
His being o're head and ears in love,
Does (I confess) my pity move.
Since therefore he's so woe begon,
So sighs, and cries, and so takes on,
I tell thee plain, I do protest,
Things being thus, I think it best—

Juno.
What that I lye with him, I warrant!

Jupit.
Do'st think I am a sot so errant?
No, I'me not so kind to him neither:
I prethee hold thy leggs together.
That's more than will be well allow'd;
But I will dizen him a Cloud

So like to thee, as shall perswade him,
He has made me, what I have made him,
And that in pure commiseration,
In part to satisfie his passion.

Juno.
Why, this will be for to reward him,
For what thou should'st at least discard him.

Jupit.
But speak in pure sincerity,
What harm will this do thee, or me?

Juno.
Why he will think it me, that's flat,
Then I shall pass for I know what.

Jupit.
No matter what's by him believ'd,
'Tis only he will be deceiv'd;
And if a Cloud like thee I make,
No Juno 'tis, but a mistake,
And he by this my pretty cheat,
A race of Centaurs shall beget.

Juno.
But if (as now adayes thou know'st
Men are too apt to make their boast)
This Rogue so soon as he has done,
As they all do, should straight-way run,
And publish to the world, that he
Has had his filthy will of me;

Pray after such a fine Oration,
Where then were Juno's reputation?

Jup.
Should he do such a thing as that,
I'de teach the Rascal how to prate,
And if he needs must kiss, and tell,
I'le kick him headlong into Hell,
Where to a wheel he shall be bound,
And like a Mill-horse still turn round,
And never have a moments rest;
Nor thence shall ever be releast.

Juno.
If he do prove so damn'd a Dog,
'Twill be but Justice on the Rogue.

DIALOGUE.

Vulcan and Apollo.

Apollo
Good speed, of fire thou sooty King,
I ever hear thy Anvill ring.
Thy smoak still mounts from Ætna hill;
I think thy Bellows ne're lye still:
Surely it costs thee much in Leathers,
For thou dost blow and strike all weathers.

Vulc.
Goodden Apollo, and well met,
Hast seen the little Merc'ry yet,
How fine a Child, how sweet a face,
And what a smiling count'nance t'has?
Which plainly does methink presage,
Something when he shall come to age,
That is extraord'nary, and great,
Though he is but an Infant yet.

Apollo.
A pretty Infant questionless!
Old Japhets Sire in wickedness.

Vulc.
What harm can he have done, I trow,
That came into the world but now?

Apollo.
Go, and ask Neptune that, I pray,
Whose Trident he hath stole away.
Or Mars that question can decide,
Whose Sword he pilfer'd from his side;
To whom my self I too could joyn,
Whose Bow and Shafts he did purloin.

Vulc.
What such a nazardly Pigwiggin,
A little Hang-strings in a Biggin?
Away, away, Apollo flouts!
What a Filou in swathing Clouts?

Apollo.
Well think so, but if this Filou
Come here, thou'lt see what he can do.

Vulc.
H'as been already here to day.

Apollo.
Well, and is nothing missing pray?

Vulc.
Not that I know of.

Apollo.
That may be;
But prethee look about and see.

Vulc.
I cannot see my Pincers though.

Apollo.
O, cry you mercy, can't you so,
There's one cast of his office now.
Now dare I venture twenty pound,
They'l be amongst his Trinckets found.

Vulc.
Faith, and assure thy self I'le try,
Is the young Thief indeed so sly?
Such lucky Chucks there's so great need on,
Wee'l keep this hopeful Youth to breed on.
A precious Pepin, and a trim,
A right Arch-bird, I'le warrant him.
An Infant quotha! marry hang him,
If he were mine I would so bang him.
What were my Tonges so hot I trow,
To stick to your small fingers so?

I'le make a Burn mark with a T,
To fist you with Sir Mercury.
But I'me astonish't at the Lad,
How he so soon could learn his trade,
He learn't (to be a Rogue so pure)
To steal in's Mother's belly sure.

Apollo.
These are his recreations these;
But he has other Qualities.
Mark but that nimble tongue of his,
What a pert prating Urchin 'tis.
His mouth will one day be a spout
Of Eloquence without all doubt.
Hee'l be an Orator, I warrant,
And if he be not, let me hear on't:
And a prime Wrestler as e're tript,
Ere gave the Cornish Hug, or Hipt;
Or I am much mistaken in him;
As any one would say't had seen him:
For he already has at first,
Put Monsieur Cupid to the worst,
And gave him such a dreadful fall,
I thought had broke his bones withal;

In troth I ne're saw such another,
But Love went puling to his Mother,
Which as the Gods were laughing at,
And Venus went to moan her Brat,
Whilst she was kissing the small Archer,
And drying's tears with Lawn handkercher,
In comes that crafty Youth and sly,
That little filtching Mercury,
And in a twinkling (I protest)
Whips me away her am'rous Cest,
Nay, and Jove's Thunder too had got,
But 'twas too heavy and too hot,
But yet his Scepter went to pot.

Vulc.
By Jupiter a hardy Youth!

Apollo.
Nay, he's a Minstril too.

Vulc.
In truth!

Apollo.
Yes faith, a better never plaid,
Nay, and the little Rogue has made
A Fiddle of a Tortoise-shell,
On which he playes so rarely well,
That he puts fair to put down me,
Who am the God of Harmony.

His Mother's troubled at his wayes,
He never sleeps a-nights she sayes,
But goes, for all that she can say,
As far as Hell to seek for prey,
And he has got, by slight of hand,
A most incomparable wand;
Of so strange vertue, that 'tis sed,
It with a waft does raise the dead,
And both the dead from Death can save,
And send the living to the Grave.

Vulc.
Nay, nay, of that I must acquit him;
For I to play withal did gee't-him.

Apollo.
That's well, and he in recompence
Has stol'n away thy Pincers hence.

Vulc.
S'nigs, well remembred! I'le be gone
To search his corners for my own:
And if I find 'um in his Cradle,
Take it from me his sides I'le swaddle.

DIALOGUE.

Vulcan and Jupiter.

Vul.
Here, I have brought thee home a hatchet,
If any Smith for temper match it,
Or edge, I'le say no more but so,
I'le ne're strike stroke more whilst I blow.
And now 'tis here new from the Smithy,
What must we do with it, I prethee?

Jupit.
Why cleave my head in two with it.

Vulc.
How, cleave thy head, the De'el a bit!
Thou say'st so but to try my wit.
But tell me quickly, prethee do,
What use thou'lt have it put unto;
For I Sol's Coach horses must shoe?

Jupit.
Why, for to cleave my head in two.
I am in earnest, therefore do it,
Or (thou lame Rascal) thou shalt rue it,
And if thou bee'st so shie of mine,
Beware that great Calves-head of thine;

Fear not, but strike with might and main,
For my Scalp splits with very pain,
And I do suffer all the Throes
A woman in her labour does.

Vulc.
In labour quotha, 't may be so:
But let's consider what we do;
For, I'me afraid, I hardly shoo'd
Lay thee as Dame Lucina woo'd.

Jupit.
Wilt thou leave prating sirrah once;
Least I make bold with thy wise sconce:
Do thou but strike courageously,
And home, and leave the rest to me.

Vulc.
Why Jupiter, if thee I kill,
Bear witness 'tis against my will:
There is no help, I must obey,
Have at thy Coxcomb then I say,
For with this Butchers blow of mine,
I'le cleave thee down unto the Chine.
Good Gods! no wonder if thy brains
Suffer'd intollerable pains,
When such a lusty strapping Trull
As this lay kicking in thy skull.

Nay, and an Amazon to boot,
Which though not arm'd from head to foot,
Is furnish't yet to take the field,
And has both Helmet, Launce, and Shield.
'Twas breeding this brave Lass belike,
Made thee so cross and cholerick,
And yet the Girl (I vow and swear)
Is most incomparably fair:
Prethee, for having laid thee well,
Give me her for my Dowsabel;
For though new-born, the Wench is able,
And I'le uphold her marriageable.

Jup.
With all my heart I give her free;
But thou'lt ne're make her marry thee:
For she will never be a Wife,
But live a Virgin all her life.
Therefore ne're offer to perswade her;
For thou art sure to lose thy labour.

Vulc.
Well, well, for that let me alone;
I'le make her coming ten to one;
I have been in my dayes a Blade
At winning of a pretty Maid,

And can bring this to my command,
As easily as kiss my hand,
Provided I have thy consent.

Jup.
Why thou may'st try, but thou'lt repent.

DIALOGUE.

Neptune and Mercury.

Nept.
Hark, Cosin Mercury, do'st hear,
Could not one speak with Jupiter?

Merc.
No, save thy labour, and be gone,
Hee's busie, and will speak with none.

Nept.
But, prethee, let him know 'tis I.

Merc.
I tell thee hee'l see no body,
And therefore prethee go thy way;
For hee'l be seen of none to day.

Nept.
Are he and's wife, if one may axe,
Making the beast with the two backs?

Merc.
Could'st thou no other question find?
They two but seldom are so kind.

Nept.
Then Ganimede and hee's together.

Merc.
No truly Signior Neptune neither.

Nept.
What then? I'le know spite of thy nose.

Merc.
You'l ask me leave first, I suppose.
But hee's not well, will that suffice?

Nept.
Not well! where is it his grief lies?

Merc.
Why I'me asham'd to tell thee where.

Nept.
What a

Brother to Jupiter.

Relation so near!
Leave fooling (Coz) I prethee now,
And tell me, for I long to know.

Merc.
Why, since I see thou'lt not be sed,
Know, that hee's newly brought to bed.

Nept.
How! this is monstrous by this light!
What is he an Hermaphrodite?
I ne're perceiv'd his Belly rise
Above the ordinary size.

Merc.
That's likely; neither, I must tell ye,
Was he deliver'd from his Belly.

Nept.
From what part then? was't from his head,
As when he his Minerva bred?
Is that deliver'd once again?
He has a wondrous fruitful brain.

Merc.
No this Birth issu'd from his Thigh:

Nept.
Go sirrah, now I know you lye.

What would st thou have me such a Noddy,
To think he Spawns all o're his Body.

Merc.

Well, but there is more in't then so,
And thou the truth of all shalt know.
Juno, whose spiteful Jealousie
Thou know'st I'me sure as well as I,
In Malice, Semele perswades
(One of his best beloved Jades)
Since Jupiter did her so honor,
As Children to beget upon her:
She so much kindness had for her,
That she no longer should incur
A Common Lemman's imputation:
But for her better reputation,
No more with him in private lye:
But make him own her publickly.
Therefore my Semele (quoth she)
Prethee for once be rul'd by me,
And if he have true kindness for thee,
Make him come next in all his glory,
Not sneaking in a mean disguise
Like Rogues to midnight Letcheries:

But like himself roab'd round with wonder,
And with his Lightning and his Thunder:
So all will honor and adore thee,
Who now despise thee, and abhor thee.

The Girl thus tickled in the Ear,
And proud her self as Lucifer,
So order'd it with this great King,
Whom Whores can make do any thing,
That he came next in this attire:
But then before he could come nigh her
His Lightning set the Room on fire,
And with its all consuming slashes,
Reduc't the Room and House to ashes.
In which case, all that we could do
Was but to save the Embrio:
(For she was then with Child, bee't known,
By Jupiter, and seven Months gone)
Which ripping from her Belly, I
Put warm into thy Brothers thigh,
There to compleat the term requir'd;
Which being but just now expir'd,
He's brought to Bed, and truth to speak,

With his hard labour very weak.

Nept.
And where is this same twice-born Chit?

Merc.
To Nysa I have carri'd it,
By the Nymphs there to be brought up,
Who knowing he will be given t'th' Cup,
And in hard drinking very vitious,
Have aptly Nam'd him Dionysius.

Nept.
Then of this Child hee's Syre and Dam,
And it may call him Dad and Mam?

Merc.
Yes truly, it is even so,
He any of these may answer to:
But I can't stay to tell thee more;
For I should have been gone before,
And in this stay have done amiss
To prate at such a time as this.
I now must use both heels and wings,
Water to fetch, and other things
For Child-bed women, and had need
Repair my negligence with speed:
All the good wives else will me blame,
For now I the Man-midwise am.

DIALOGUE.

Mercury and the Sun.

Merc.
Jove (Sol) commands thee by me here
To stop thy Steeds in their Careere,
For the full space of three whole dayes
He will not have thee shine, he sayes:
But thou art to conceal thy light,
For he will have that term all night.
Therefore I think it thy best Course is,
To let the Hours unteam thy Horses,
Get a good Night-cap on thy Head,
But out thy Torch, and go to Bed.

Sol.
Tis an extravagant Command,
And that I do not understand.
What I have done, I fain would know,
That Jupiter should use me so?
What fault committed in my place
To put upon me this disgrace?
Have I not ever kept my Horse
In the precincts of their due Course;

Or though twelve Inns are in my way,
Did I e're drink, or stop, or stay?
Bear witness all the God's in Heav'n
If I've not duly Morn, and Even,
Rosen, and set, and care did take
To keep touch with the Almanack.
What then my fault is, I confess,
If I should dye, I cannot guess:
And why he should, much less I know
Suspend me ab officio.
It sure must be a great offence
Deserves the worst of punishments,
As this is he on me doth lay,
That Night must triumph over Day.

Merc.
Fie, what a clutter dost thou make,
And all about a meer mistake:
Thou talk'st of anger, and disgrace,
There's no such matter in the case.
Thou wide art of his meaning quite,
He bids thee to withdraw thy light,
That for three dayes it may not shine
In order to a great design

He has that won't endure the Sun,
But is by Owl-light to be done.

Sol.
Faith tell me that design of his,
What he's about, and where he is.

Merc.
I'le tell thee, if thou needs will know,
He's Cuckolding Amphytrio.

Sol.
'Tis very fine, and won't one Night
Take the edge off his Appetite?
Cannot one Night give him enough?
Is the old Letcher still so tough,
A Swinge-bow of so high renown,
A Wench can't sooner take him down?

Merc.
No, but he means to get of her
A very mighty Man of War,
Of heart most stout, and limbs most vast,
Which is not to be done in hast:
But of another kind of fashion,
Then ev'ry common Generation.

Sol.
Why let him lay about him then
To finish this great Man of Men:
But let me tell thee, these strange wayes
Were not in use in Saturn's dayes.

He ne're left Rhea in his life
To letcher with anothers wife:
But for one whore now (which is scurvy)
All things must turn'd be topsy-turvy.
In the mean time 'tis ten to one
My horses will be Resty grown,
For want of use, and thorns I know
In my Carere will spring, and grow;
And Mankind must in darkness languish
Whilst he his bawdy Launce does brandish,
And stews himself in his own grease,
To get this admirable piece.

Merc.
Peace, peace, friend Sol, no more of that;
Least he do teach thee how to prate.
In the mean time I must be gone
With the same message to the Moon,
To keep within, and vail her face,
As many Nights, as thou dost Dayes.
My last Commission is to Sleep,
That Mortal's eyes he so long keep
Seal'd up in rest, and all the while
Feed them with Dreams, time to beguile,

That when thy light unseals their eyes,
(And then it will be time to rise)
They may when that day does begin,
Not know how long a night 't has been.

DIALOGUE.

Venus and the Moon.

Ven.
Tell me my pale complexion'd Lass
Bright Cynthia, how comes this to pass,
That thou'rt accus'd of things, I swear,
I'me sorry, and asham'd to hear?
It is reported every where
That thou in mid'st of thy Careere,
Thy Chariot often stop'st, and there,
(Which is a piece of impudence)
Under a pitiful pretence,
Of making water, steal'st i'th' Night
T'a Hunter that Endymion hight.
Where (little to thy praise be it spoken)
His Visage thou do'st gaze, and look on

(Which none but your light Huswives do)
As thou would'st look him through, and through
Whil'st he, not dreaming of thy folly,
Lies gaping like a great Lob-lolly,
On Carian Latmus loudly snoaring,
Insensible of thy Amoring.
Nay, if the lumpish Boy should wake,
Thy kisses hee'd not kindly take;
Nor would he understand thy passion
At all to be an obligation.

Luna.
Why 'tis that Nere-be-good thy Son,
Has made me do what I have done.

Venus.
I, hang him little Gallow-strings,
He does a thousand of these things,
And well may do it to another,
That spares not me who am his Mother.
He set me so upon the Hy-day,
As made me oft descend on Ida.
To get Anchises, young and able,
Make me a handle to my Ladle:
And to Mount Libanus t'Adonis,
(Who, rest go with him, dead and gone is)

But then the Boy was wholly mine,
'Till stole away by Proserpine,
Who, to speak plain, and not to lye,
Had a sweet Tooth as well as I;
And kept him for her Drudgery.
'Till seeing me to weep and mourn,
She sent him me sometimes in turn;
For which his pranks, I'le tell thee what,
I threatned have the graceless Brat
A hundred times at least, I know,
To break his Quiver and his Bow,
To clip his wings, and play debar him,
And every thing I thought would scare him.
Nay, but last day, I tell thee true,
I plainly took my Youth to do,
And with one of my Shoes with Claps,
Whip't me the roguy Jack-an-apes,
Until I had almost fetch't blood:
But all I see will do no good;
He quickly has forgot the pain,
And does the same thing o're again,
And so he will do still, but tell though,

Is thy Sweet-heart a pretty Fellow?
For if he's handsome, or have wit,
There is in that some comfort yet.

Luna.
Thou know'st no Loves do foul appear:
But it is true, I can't forbear
Staring and gazing in his face,
When coming weary from the Chace,
His Mantle he on ground does spread,
And falls asleep, leaning his head
On his right arm, which does embrace,
Being twin'd about his head, his face,
Whil'st from his left his Arrows all,
Do dropping negligently fall.
Then stealing, and on Tip-toe too,
As folks to make less noise still do,
For fear of waking him; I there
Perceive his breath perfume the Air,
And in soft breathings yield a sent
So ravishing, and redolent,
That I am forc't to sit down by him
And sigh, and kiss, and kissing eye-him;
When sitting thus, and sometimes stealing

A little little touch of feeling,
Whil'st I still gaz'd upon his face,
It tingles in a certain place
To that degree, that I protest—
I know thou now can'st guess the rest,
As having in thy self made proof.
Thou know'st what Love is well enough:
But then, O then, I am all fire,
And even ready to expire.

DIALOGUE.

Venus and Cupid.

Venus.
Why what work (Sirrah) do'st thou make!
Thou ev'ry hour mak'st my heartake
For fear of thee, thou graceless Whelp,
In doing things I cannot help.
I do not, Rake-hell, mean those pranks
(Though even they deserve small thanks)
Thou play'st on Earth, where thou hast done
The strangest things that e're were known,

Set men a rambling, women gadding,
Young, old, sound, lame, and all a madding:
Fill'd the whole world with dismal cryes
Of Incests, Rapes, Adulteries,
In stead of harmless recreation
Allow'd in simple Fornication:
Nor is the common Rout alone
Subject to thy Dominion:
But thou hast made the greatest Kings
Do more, nay, yet more sensless things,
Than th'errants (as one may 'um call)
Tag-rag Plebeans on 'um all.
Yet still these People Mortals be,
And subject to thy Deity;
Nor (though blame-worthy) is th'offence
Of such a dangerous consequence,
As those thou do'st commit above,
Where thou confound'st us all with love,
Ev'n the Gods King thou do'st not spare,
But mak'st the mighty Thunderer
Better to play his amorous prizes,
Put on ridiculous disguises,

Whilst Jupiter we all despise,
(Who one would think should be more wise)
For those his childish Mummeries.
Next unto Carian Latmus crown
Thou mak'st the sober Moon come down,
Than whom a better fame had none,
To visit her Endymion.
The Sun, who diligent wont to be,
Thou mak'st to stay with Climene,
Neglecting his diurnal Courses,
And turn to grass his fiery Horses.
Sans naming, thou mischievous Elfe,
What thou hast done to me my self,
Who though thy Dam, and a fond Mother,
Thou hast us'd worse than any other:
Yet these (though such things ne'r were heard on)
Were yet within the pale of pardon,
And might in time have been o'reblown,
Had'st thou let Cybele alone:
But to attaque a poor old Mumps,
Whose teeth were long since turn'd to stumps,

Great Grannam to so many Gods,
Deserves a whole Cart-load of Rods.
And thus to make a poor old Trot
Fly raging up and down (I wot)
Set in her Chariot drawn with Lyons,
And bidding Gravity defiance,
As if she were stark staring mad,
After a Scurvy-shit-breech Lad,
And even of Stocks, and Stones enquire
Of Atys, her small Apple-squire,
Is such a thing (my graceless Son)
As certainly was never done.
Nor in her inquisition,
Does she yet play the fool alone;
But which is a most gross mistake,
And does her shame more publick make,
She does ev'n here her State maintain,
And goes with all her Jugling Train
Of Corybantes at her heels,
Who as their brains were set on wheels,
Disperse themselves all over Ide,
Whooping aloud on every side

(No wiser than their mad old Dame)
Calling and whooping Atys Name.
Where some in fury are so woo'd,
As with one arm t'let t'other blood,
Some weep in blood, and some in tears,
Some with their hair about their ears
Run headlong down the Precipices,
Enough to dash themselves in peices.
One winds a Horn with mighty labor,
Another thum's it on a Tabor,
Another a Brass-pan employes,
Others use Cymbals, Shaumes, Hoboys
Or any thing will make a noise.
With which they make that hideous din,
That the whole Mountain ring's agin.
Nay so obstreperous they are,
And make that dismal Tintamare,
What with their yelling, and their tink'ing,
That unto any Mortal's thinking,
Hell is broke loose, it sounds so odd,
And all the Devils got abroad.
Which makes me fear for these offences,
If e're th'old Hagg to her own Sences

Return again, she will on thee
Direly revenge this Roguery,
And either without Form or Jury,
Presently kill thee in her fury,
Or else unto her Lyons throw,
Or Priests, the fiercer of the two.

Cup.
Your care's worth thanks, but truly Mother,
I neither fear the one, nor th'other;
For her Priests fury I not weigh't,
They all are too effeminate;
Nor of her Lyons fearful am;
For those already I've made tame,
So tame, that often I astride
A cock-horse on their back do ride,
Spur 'um, and by their shaggy mains,
Guide 'um as easie as with reins,
Play with their beards, their lips, their paws,
Make 'um extend their crooked clawes,
Nay, thrust into their mouths my fist,
And do with 'um e'en what my list.
And then for Rhea, Mother, she
Too busie is, I warrant ye,
About her Love to think of me.

But after all this scolding now,
Mother, I very fain would know,
Wherein I've done so much a miss,
When all I've done's but only this,
To make that lov'd that lovely is.
Which why it should be thus resented,
I know not; would you be contented
To have Mars cur'd (faith now tell true)
O'th' passion that he has for you?

Venus.
That thou art a malicious Brat,
To say so damn'd a thing as that;
But, Sirrah, one day possibly,
Thou'lt think of what I've said to thee.

DIALOGUE.

Hercules, Æsculapius, and Jupiter.

J.
Why what Sir's, are you both stark mad!
Is there no reverence to be had?
Are you not both asham'd to braul,
And make this bustle in the Hall,
Together thus by th'Ears to fall
Like Rogues, and one another maul

With Pots and Juggs, and all things shuffle,
As you were at a Counter-scuffle?
D'ee make an Ale-house of my House!
If I reach one of ye a Douse
You'l learn more manners, than to brabble,
And make an uproar at my Table.

Herc.
Is it fit, Father, that this Jack,
This paltry Mountebancking Quack,
This Siringe, Glisterpipe before ye,
This Leech, this vile Suppository,
This son of twenty thousand Fathers,
This pack of Gally-pots and Bladders,
Before this heav'nly Company
Should offer to take place of me?

Æsculap.
Sirrah, my noble Art disdains
All these abominable names
Thou vomits forth so fluently;
Nor does the Quack belong to me;
Thy Mountebanck, I do disclaim,
It my Profession can't defame,
No Hocus nor no Leech I am:
But the renowned God of Phy-sick,
Who cure my Patients when they lye-sick.

Thy better (Russian) in desert;
Or his, whoever takes thy part.

Herc.
In what (Imposter) would'st thou be
Thought the advantage t'ave of me?
Is it because a Thunder-clap
Gave that Calves-head of thine a rap,
A due reward for the desert
Of thy vast knowledge and great Art?
For (Master Doctor) in pure pity
Great Jove did only here admit ye.

Æscul.
It does become thee well, I faith,
Thus to reproach me with my death,
Having thy self without Reprieve
On Oëtas top been burnt alive
For an example unto all,
Like a notorious Criminal.

Herc.
But that was voluntary yet,
After I had with labour great
(Since my own acts I must rehearse)
Of Monsters purg'd the Universe.
But what hast thou done for thy part,
With all thy so much boasted Art,

But Emp'rick-like, impos'd thy cheats,
By vertue of some stol'n receipts,
Which, set off with a brazen face,
Perhaps at Country Fairs might pass?

Æscul.
Thou say'st well, for 'twas I apply'd
The Unguent to thy roasted Hide,
When thou cam'st hither (Captain Swasher)
Scorch't like a Herring, or a Rasher,
Sing'd like a Hog (foh! thou stink'st still)
And spitch-cock't like a salted Eele:
But I, like thee, have never bin
Prentice t'a Whore to learn to spin,
A little domineering Trull
That made the big-bond Booby pull
Course Hempen-Hurds, slaver, and twine
A thread, no doubt, as Cart-rope fine;
And when the aukward Cluster-fist,
(As he did oft) his Lesson miss't,
And broke a thred, then you might see'r
Take him a wherrit on the Eare,
Calling him Dunce, and Logger-head,
Whilst the tall Souldier quak't for dread.

Nor (Sirrah Sawce-box) dost thou hear,
I ne're was yet the murtherer
Of my own Wife; nor yet did I
E're slaughter my own Progeny,
Who Innocents could none provoke:
As thou hast, to thy praise be't spoke.

Her.
'Twere good thou leftst thy prating (Farrier)
And quickly too, or this tall warriour,
Whom thou so seemest to despise,
Will kick thee headlong from the skies,
And make thee from the Christal Vault
Take such a dainty Somer-sault,
That when thou commest to the ground,
Thy neck I doubt will scarce be sound.
Thou then may'st try thy skill in vain,
And strive to set it right again,
When all thy art will never do't,
Physick, and Chirurgery to boot.

Æsc.
Thou kick me down, thou vap'ring Scab!
Thou kiss the But-end of a Drab.
Thou spin'st already, and shalt feel
I have a fist will teach thee Reel.

100

Let's have fair play, and make a Round,
I'le cuff with thee for twenty pound:
Or I will meet thee where thou wo't,
Either with Seconds, or without,
With any Weapon thou dost like
Betwixt a Bodkin and a Pike,
Where I will pay thee thy desert;
And (thou great Lubber) though thou art
A pretty fellow with thy Club,
I will thy Lyons skin so drub,
If once thou dar'st to bide me battle,
Thy bones shall underneath it rattle.

Jup.
Basta! no more you wrangling Turds,
Give o're these Coster-mongers words,
Or I protest (which I am loth)
I'le by the shoulders thrust you both
Out of my Hall, and eke my doors,
And pack you down 'mongst Oyster-whores,
Porters, and Tripe-women to prate,
And cuff it out at Billings-gate.
But first I the dispute will end,
For which so sweetly you contend.

101

Know then (my brace of ill-bred Huffers)
You pair of brawling drunken Cuffers,
You neither of you here have place,
But meerly of my special grace;
And therefore two great Coxcombs are
Here to begin a Civil war,
And for a thing to keep ado
Y'ave neither of you title to.
But henceforth (ye unmanner'd Asses)
That you may know your worships places,
And no more such a rumble keep,
I'le have it go by Eldership,
And as the Doctor older is,
So the precedence shall be his.

102

DIALOGUE.

Mercury and Apollo.

Merc.
Apollo , what's the matter pray
You look so mustily to day?

Apollo.
Why never any, certainly,
Was yet so cross't in love as I;
And any else, I think, would dye of
Half the mischievous luck that I have.

Merc.
Hast thou new cause with Fate to quarrel,
Since Daphne turn'd was to a Laurel?

Apollo.
Oh yes, yes, yes, my honest Friend,
My Hyacinthus timeless end.

Merc.
Who of his murther was the Author?

Apollo.
My self am guilty of the slaughter.

Merc.
What did'st thou do it in thy fury?
Thou'rt passionate:

Apollo.
No, I assure ye,
The passion I had for that Creature
Was of another sort of nature;

103

But playing with the Boy at Mall
(I rue the time, and ever shall)
I strooke the Ball, I know not how,
(For that is not the play you know)
A pretty height into the Air,
When Zephirus (who't seems was there)
And long (as thou thy self hast seen)
Has jealous of our friendship been,
Beat down the Ball, without Remorse,
With such a most confounded force,
And gave his head so damn'd a thumm,
As breaking Pericranium,
Scalpe, Dura, and eke Pia Mater,
His Brains came poppling out like water,
And the Boy dy'de so prettily,
'Twould e'en have done one good to see.
I presently pursu'd the Traytor,
T'ave been reveng'd; but no such matter.
I nockt an arrow to have shot him;
But he soon out of distance got him.
Besides, although in a long Bow
I shoot as well as most I know,

104

Yet (like a Dunce) I ne're could yet
The knack of shooting flying get.
He was too swift, and I too slow
To overtake the wind I trow.
So seeing then the bloody slave
Got into Æolus his Cave,
I back to my departed Joy,
Where taking up the lovely Boy,
I honourably brought him home,
And built him a most stately Tomb,
Where my Amours, and he for ever,
Are buried, and entomb'd together.
And yet my Sweet-heart to survive,
And keep my Comfort still alive,
I from his blood have caus'd to spring
A flower, the pretty'st baubling thing
For beauty, and for sweetness too,
On the Earth's womb that ever grew.
Which also in its folyage wears
Some Hierogliphick Characters,
Whose sence in mistick figures bears
The story of my sighs and tears.

105

And yet alass, for all I strive
My rooted sorrow to deceive,
By all the most diverting wayes,
I must lament him all my dayes.

Merc.
Then friend Apollo thou art not
The God of Wisdom, but a Sot:
For those who will descend so far,
As to love things that mortal are,
Must for events like these prepare.
Mortals to Fate are subject all,
Who sooner must, or later fall:
And the word Mortal does imply
That they are only born to dye.

106

DIALOGUE.

Apollo and Mercury.

Merc.
'Tis a strange thing methinks, Apollo,
That this foul Thief all smutch't with collow,
This Vulcan, this old limping Rogue,
This nasty, swarthy, ill-look't Dog,
Should have the luck to marry these
So fair, so handsome Goddesses.
Nay more (which makes me hate the slave)
The very fairest that we have:
Nor can it sink into my pate
How they can hugg so foul a Mate;
Or when from's forge he comes at night,
In that same nasty stinking plight,
All soot, and sweat, so black and grim,
How they can go to bed to him:
Or rather not abhor, and fear him,
And even vomit to come near him.

107

Apollo.
Why? 'tis a wonder certainly
To ev'ry one, especially
One so unfortunate as I.
Who though (I speak sans vanity)
I'me something better made than he,
Not to say more, nevertheless,
Despair of so much happiness.

Merc.
It so much purpose is for thee
To boast thy Form, and Harmony.
These Cattle care not of a figg
For thy fine frizled Periwigg;
Nor thy well playing of a Jigg:
As little would it profit me
To brag of my activity;
That I can wrestle, leap, and run,
And fell a Rogue with my Battoon.
Nor better favour should I gain
By shewing them Leger-demain.
No, no! I see these are not arts,
To conquer the Madona's hearts;
And we at Bed-time, when all's done,
Shall find that we must lye alone:

108

Whilst a Mechanick Cripple here,
(Who doubtless does a Vizor wear;
Or has the worst of all ill faces)
Is towsing Venus, and the Graces.

Apollo.
Thy fortune yet's not quite so bad:
Thou some luck in thy life hast had.
Thou something hast to brag on yet,
One fit with Venus thou wast great;
When from your mutual delight
There sprang a rare Hermophrodite:
But of two persons I ador'd,
The one my love so much abhor'd,
That rather than shee'd suffer me,
She would be turn'd into a Tree:
And th'other to my flame more true,
I most unfortunately slew.
But tell me how these handsome Lasses,
Thy Mistress Venus, and the Graces,
Can possibly so well agree,
And live together quietly?
How comes it neither Jealous are,
Venus of them, nor they of her?

109

M.
That's nothing strangewhere no great love is.
Besides, fair Venus oft above is
Passing her time most jocundly
In Heav'n, with better Company.
While th'other are constrain'd the while
To stay with him in Lemnos Isle.
And little wanton Venus cares
Who with her in the Black-Smith shares;
She finer fellows has than he
To help to do his Drudgery.
Mars, and she (Jove forgive 'um for't)
Have now and then a night of sport,
A youth of other kind of mettle,
Than that old outside of a Kettle.

Apol.
But dost thou think Vulcan does dream
That Captain Swash does Cuckold him?

Merc.
Nay faith he knows it well enough;
But he so dreads that man of Buff,
That whatsoe're he sees or hears,
He dares not mutter for his Ears.
Besides thou know'st, and oft hast seen't,
How monst'rous rude and insolent

110

These huffing angry Boyes of War,
With pitiful Mechanicks are.

Apollo.
Well, but I'me told the Hob-nail-maker
Is plotting for all that to take her,
And is contriving a strange Gin
To trap her and her Bravo in.

Merc.
I can say nothing as to that,
But (betwixt friends) I'le tell thee what,
So her Bumfiddle I had clapt,
I'de be contented to be trapt.

DIALOGUE.

Juno and Latona.

Juno.
In truth (Latona) thou dost bear
Such lovely Brats to Jupiter,
That I have thought it pity often,
They were not lawfully begotten.

Lat.
They like their other Neighbours are,
Not over-foul, nor over-fair;
They pretty passable are though
(Thank Jove) the Children are so so:

111

But each one must not think to bear
So fine a peice as Mulciber.

Juno.
I understand thee well enough.
Jeer on, my back is broad enough:
Vulcan is not so finely drest
As Don Apollo, 'tis confest;
Yet Venus (though he's not so trim)
Found in her heart to marry him.
And if the Artizan be lame,
We are for that mischance to blame,
For ev'ry one knows how it came.
But though a Cripple in his feet,
His hands do recompence it yet,
For better Workman never Smote
With hammer whilst the Ir'n was hot.
'Tis he embellish't has the Skies
With all those pretty twinkling eyes:
'Tis he alone can undertake
Jupiter's Thunder-bolts to make;
Nay all the Deities beside
Are from his industry supply'd,
And he's put to't so to find wares
To furnish all his Customers,

112

That oftentimes constrain'd they are
To begg, intreat, and speak him fair
To get him make their Iron-ware.
They all are bound t'him (on my word)
Mars for his Cuirace, Shield, and Sword,
The blustring Æol for his Bident,
And Neptune for his massy Trident,
Ceres for Sickles, Pan for Crooks,
Pomona for her Pruning-hooks,
Priapus for his Grafting-knives,
And Sir Prometheus for his Gieves.
Nay hold! I have not yet half done,
He's Smith and Farrier to the Sun,
Does th'Iron-work his Chariot needs,
Shooes, Bloods, and Drenches both his Steeds,
Of which the one the other day
He of a Gravel cur'd, they say:
And t'other of a Fistula.
Nay, a new pair of wheels are made
(The old ones being much decay'd)
For which he makes such lasting Tire,
As all the Black-Smiths do admire:

113

Bushes the Naves, clouts th'Axle-trees,
And twenty finer things than these.
The Goddesses are fain to wooe him,
And come to be beholding to him
To make their Needles, and their Shears;
And those fine Pattens his wife wears,
Are of his making too she swears.
By which it evident appears
He's best at any Iron thing
That ever made an Anvile ring.
But that great ramping Fuss, thy Daughter,
A mankind Trull, inur'd to slaughter,
To the soft Sex's foul disgrace,
Rambles about from place to place,
And even as far as Scythia ranges,
Where murther she for love exchanges,
And without sense, grace, or good manners,
Butchers her courteous entertainers.
In this more fierce and cruel far.
Than the most bloody Scythians are.
And then thy Son, that hopeful piece,
Apollo, Jack-of all-Trades is:

114

Of many Arts forsooth he's Master,
An Archer, Fidler, Poetaster,
A kind of Salt'in-banco too,
Who thorough Provinces does go
And kills cum Privilegio.
Nay, he pretends to more then this,
He set's up Oracle-shops in Greece,
At Delphos, Didyma, and Claros,
To each of which he hath a Ware-house
Stuff't full of lies, for great and small,
To gull poor silly Souls withal.
Yet so that all his fustion fictions
(Which he pretends to be predictions)
Though ev'ry one of them a lye,
Are couch't so wondrous cunningly,
That howsoe're things come about,
He has a back-door to get out.
In the mean time the world abounding
With Puppy's (that it seems scap't drowning)
By these Impostures, and damn'd Cheats,
Of fools he store of money gets:
But yet the wise too well do know
His Cheats, to part with money so;

115

They find his skill in Prophecy.
Who was so wise not to foresee
That he one day against his will,
Should his dear Hyacinthus kill;
Nor that fair Daphne, his coy Miss,
Would never like that face of his,
For all he wears his beard so sprig,
And has a fine Gold Periwig.
I wonder then that thou should'st be
Preferr'd thus before Niobe;
Or that thy Issue should be thought
Fairer than those that she hath brought.

Lat.
Come, come, thy spite and malice few know
Better than I do, Madam Juno!
I know, but care not of a Chip
Where the shooe wrings your Ladiship.
Thou'rt vext unto the heart (I trow)
To see my Children triumph so,
And shine in Heaven as they do,
And that they celebrated are,
The one for beautiful and fair;
And th'other for his skill so rare
O'th' Harp, Theorbo, and Guitarre.

116

Juno.
What sensless things fond Mothers are,
Thou mak'st me laugh, I vow and swear,
To think thy Son thou should'st maintain
To be a good Musitian.
That miserable Harper, who
For raking his vile Gridiron so,
Instead of Marsyas had been flead,
And had his skin strip't ore his head,
Had not the nine corrupted Wenches
Giv'n sentence 'gainst their Consciences.
As for thy Daughters mighty grace,
With her pale, full-moon, platter-face,
She such a very lovely piece is,
Acteon was pull'd all to pieces
By his own Hounds (ill manner'd Curs,
Who did like Dogs, but th'fault was hers)
'Tis said for having seen her naked:
But who think that was all, mistake it:
For I can tell 'um in their ear,
She made them worry him for fear
He should tell tales, and blaze a story
(She knew must needs be detractory)

117

Of what a filthy fulsome Quean,
He bathing had stark naked seen.
For the Virginity (forsooth)
She brags of, is a gross untruth;
Alass a meer pretence, and what
All women needs must titter at:
For she could never, if a Maid,
Practise so well the Midwife's Trade,
And be so skill'd in that affair,
Without experience, we may swear;
And therefore she has had her share
Of doing too, I warrant her.

Latona.
Well (Juno) well, I must dispense
With this thy railing insolence,
And she who is in Bed, and Throne,
Great Jupiters Companion,
May say her will to any one.
Or, else my haughty Dame, I wis,
Thou durst not talk such stuff as this.
Thou sett'st thy Tippet wond'rous high,
And rant'st, there is no coming nigh,
See what a goodly port she bears,
Making the pot with the two Ears!

118

But yet ere long, I hold a groat,
That we shall hear thee change thy note.
This pride will have a fall, no doubt,
And we shall see thee lour and pout,
And your insulting Majesty
Tame as a Lamb, sit down, and cry,
When wounded with some mortal beauty,
Your Goodman shall forget his duty,
And go to Court her at th'expence
Of Juno's due Benevolence.

DIALOGUE.

Apollo and Mercury.

Apol.
Why how now (Signior Mercury)
Y'are wonderfully rapt I see!
What is it makes your Worship pray
So merry about the mouth to day?

Merc.
Why, to see that that I have seen
Would make a Dog to break his spleen;
A sight (Apollo) that would make
Thy heart-strings too with laughing crack.

119

Apollo.
Govern thy mirth awhile, at least
So long that I may hear the jeast;
So long that braying laughter spare,
That I in turn may laugh my share.

Merc.
Why our brave Cavaliero Mars
(For laughing I can tell thee scarce,
The Jeast so pretty, and so odd is)
Is napping tane with Beauty's Goddess.

Apollo.
How tane! I prethee now be plainer,
When, doing what, after what manner?

Merc.
Just now, whilst Smug was Oxen shooing,
And (in plain terms) at down-right doing,
The manner thus: you are to know—
Oh I could dye with laughing now!

Apollo.
Thou tittring Calf I prethee cease,
And either speak, or hold thy peace.

Mer.
Why then be it known to all good-fellows,
That Vulcan having long been Jealous
Of an intrigue 'twixt his fair Bride
And this same huffing Iron-side,
It having held on many a year;
The smoaky Lymps did more than fear

120

He had through Venus water Gap
Stuck a Bull's-feather in his Cap:
Which long has made him eye, and watch him,
Hoping to find a time to catch him.
He to this purpose then had set
About his Bed so rare a Net,
Made of so small, but holding Wire,
(Wherein his art we all admire)
As without very special heed,
Was hardly to be seen indeed;
Which having unperceived laid,
He careless went about his Trade:
But scarcely was he gone an Acre,
When in slips Captain Cuckold-maker,
And whips me into Bed to's wife,
Where whilst she whistled on the Fife,
He beat (Oh never such a Drum!)
A point of War upon her Bum.
Now as they thus, with pleasing labour,
Did jump and jigg to Pipe, and Tabour,
Playing in consort, and time keeping:
The Sun, who ever must be peeping,

121

When she, Cocksure, thought none was nigh'um,
Thorough the Glass had luck to spy 'um,
Which having done, away he goes;
And, out of Envy, I suppose
(Of that methinks it rankly favours)
Tells me lame Vulcan streight, that Mavors
Whilst he at work did sweat and swelter,
Was thundring Venus, Helter-skelter.
At which the God with smutty face,
Starting, as if to run a Race,
Throws down his Tools, sans more ado,
And tript it with his Patten-shoo
So nimbly, that to (make it short)
He come's i'th' middle of their sport,
And like a cunning old Trapanner,
Took the poor Lovers in the manner,
And there, as one would take a Lark,
Trap't the fair Madam and her Spark.
Venus confounded, you must think,
Chop't down her hand to hide her Chink.
Mars tardy-tane, at first did fret,
Struggled, and flutter'd in the Net;

122

And strongly did about him lay,
Thinking by force to make his way:
When finding 'twas beyond his stress,
He e'en was fain to acquiesce,
(For striving made him but more fast);
And to entreaties fell at last.
But fair words Vulcan little heeded:
He then to menaces proceeded,
Making a kind of mixt Oration,
Half Kill, and Slay, half Supplication.

Apollo.
'Tis very pleasant faith! and so
Vulcan (I warrant) let him go.

Merc.
So far from that, that without shame,
Civil regard to his Wives Fame,
Or any sense on's own disgrace,
He all the Gods unto the place
Very judiciously has brought,
To shew them what fine fish h'as caught;
Where now they are, and all become
Spectators of his Cuckoldome.
In the mean time the loving pair,
Seeing themselves thus caught i'th' Snare,

123

Hang down their heads, and with shames wing,
(For want of other covering)
In bashful blushes do express
They fain would hide their nakedness.

Apollo.
But all this while is dirty-face
So stupid, and so damn'd an Ass,
As not to blush in such a case,
At publishing his own disgrace?

Merc.
Who he? why he of all the rest;
Is the most ravish't with the Jest,
And blushes no where does disclose,
But where he alwayes does in's Nose:
Yet, though the sight be but unseemly,
I envy this same Mars extreamly:
To be surpriz'd in Bed with her,
Who is of Goddesses the Star,
With whom no other can compare,
For sweetly excellently fair;
Believ't Apollo is most rare!
And then to be ty'd to her too,
With Bonds that no one can undo;
To her I say, than fairest fairer,
O that's more ravishing and rarer!

124

Apollo.
Thou speak'st so feelingly, I wis,
With such a tickling Emphasis,
As th'adst a mind to have it thought,
Thou would'st thy self be fain so caught.

Merc.
Marry, who doubts it: I, or else
Would I had Clapper lost and Bells.
Do but go with me now, and see
Beauty in her Captivity;
And if thou bee'st not of my mind,
I then (my friend) shall be inclin'd,
Or to suspect that there may be
Something in't of frigidity;
Or wonder that thy continence,
Beholding so much excellence,
Should be so constant, and so great,
Which rare is in a Carrot-pate.

125

DIALOGUE.

Juno and Jupiter.

Jun.
Nere stir (thou mighty God of Thunder)
I cannot choose (methinks) but wonder
How thou canst be content to have
Such an effeminate drunken Knave
As Bacchus is to call thee Father!
If he were mine, I should much rather
Adopt, then such a Rake-hell own,
A soak't Dutch Swabber for my Son.
A drunken whelp, whose whole delight
Is Swinish swilling day and night,
With a lewd Crew of hair-brain-Jades;
A knot of very fine Camrades
Yet good enough for him they be,
And far more Masculine than he:
Whilst to their Tabors, and their Pipes;
He jolts about his swagging Tripes,
With his hair crisp't so neat and fine,
And crown'd with Chaplets of the Vine,

126

More like a Morris-dancer far,
Than any Son of Jupiter.

Jup.
Yet this effeminate drunken Sot,
This Swabber, and I can't tell what,
With which thy over liberal Clapper,
Is pleas'd his merit to bespatter;
Has in a very little space
Conquer'd both Lydia and Thrace,
Which are no common Victories:
Nay of the Indies too made prize,
After triumphantly he had
Their husling King a Captive made,
For all's Bravado's, and his Rants,
And his Life-guard of Elephants.
Is this a despicable Son,
Who has so noble Conquests won?
Nay, and (which yet appears more great)
Without the puther, toyl, and sweat,
The wounds, the blood, the smart, and pain,
With which all others Conquests gain?
This fellow subjugates the Earth
In a perpetual roar of mirth,

127

Of fidling, dancing, wenching, drinking,
When one would think he least was thinking
Of any such important matter;
Or plotting things of that high nature:
And often (which is stranger yet)
At times when he seems most unfit
Either to act, or to command;
So drunk he can nor go, nor stand.
And if at any time there are
Any so impudent to dare
Either to censure, or despise
His Jovial Rites and Mysteries,
He takes them in his Lime-twiggs streight,
And teaches them so well to prate,
That once (amongst a many other
Revenges dire) he made a

Agave.

Mother
For an impiety like this
Tear her own Issue piece by piece:
And was not this, I fain would hear,
Worthy the Son of Jupiter!
And if he be (as now adayes
Many young people take ill wayes)

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A Toss-pot, and a drunken tost,
It alwayes is at his own cost,
And none (for all's Debauchery)
Can say so much as black's his eye.
Besides, if he such things can do
When drunk as Drum, or Wheelbarrow,
What would not this God of October
Perform, I prethee, when he's sober?

Juno.
Why this is wonderfully fine!
Wil't not proceed to praise (friend mine)
His rare invention of the Vine,
That parent of accursed Wine,
After thou hast, with thine own eyes,
Beheld the many miseries
And mischief that the world disquiets,
Fray's, Blood-sheds, Rescues, Routs, and Riots,
Brawls, Brabbles, Skreeks, the Devil and all,
Of which it is th'Original?
And that it cost the first

Icarius.

Boon-blade,
To whom he this fine present made,
Even his life, who had his brains
Beat out his Coxcomb for his pains?

129

Jup.
Pish! pish! thou talk'st thou know'st not what!
The Wine for this is not in fault;
'Tis not the Wine, but the excess,
That causes all this wickedness.
Wine of it self's a generous Juice;
Of which the right, and mod'rate use,
Quickens man's wit, and cheers his heart,
Gives vigour unto every part,
And the whole man with fire supplies
Both to design, and enterprize:
But Jealousie and Envy make
Your Ladiship thus ill to speak.
There was a Semele, I trow,
Who still sticks in thy stomach so,
Thou else would'st have more wit, or shame,
Than thus indifferently to blame,
With thy eternal bibble babble,
What's ill, with what is commendable.

130

DIALOGUE.

Venus and Cupid.

Venus.
Come on (Sir Love) since none is by
But your small Deity and I,
I must examine you a little,
And tell me true unto a tittle
Sirrah, it were your best, or else
I'le jerk you with my Pantables:
How comes it Youth to pass, that you,
Who all the Deities subdue,
And at thy pleasure canst make Noddies
Of every God, and every Goddess;
Nay even me dost so enflame,
Who (Shit-breech) thy own Mother am:
But yet Dame Pallas can'st not stir;
As if (forsooth) alone for her
Thou had'st no Arrows in thy Quiver,
Nor yet a Torch to scinge her Liver?

Cupid.
Why (to confess the truth) I spare her
For no very good will I bear her:

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But she is such a strapping Jade,
In sadness, Mother, I'me afraid
To meddle with her: T'other day
I for her in close ambush lay,
And a convenient stand had got,
Intending to have pinck't her coat;
And to that end had chose an Arrow
(With which I scorn to miss a Sparrow)
Had notch't it, and without all dread
Had drawn it almost to the head,
When by the snapping of a twigg,
Espying me, she look't so bigg,
And did her Launce so fiercely brandish,
My face turn'd whiter than your hand is;
And I such fear was strook withal,
That Bow and Shaft from hand did fall;
Nay, I my self came tumbling down,
As she had shot me with a frown,
So suddainly, that, but my wings
By voluntary slutterings
Broke the main fury of my fall,
I think I'de broke my neck withal.

132

And yet was not the swelch so ginger,
But that I sprain'd my little finger.

Venus.
But Mars more dreadful is than she
For all her Launce, and Shield can be,
His looks were terrible and grim;
Yet thou art not afraid of him.

Cupid.
I twice dare him e're once offend her:
He frankly does his arms surrender
To my dispose, nay very often
Calls me his Iron-sides to soften:
Whereas this sour Pal-of-Ambree
Huffs it, and looks askew at me,
And when the domineering Drab
Beheld me like a half fledg'd Squab,
Come fluttering headlong from the Bough;
Sirrah (quoth she) (thou Bastard thou)
If with thy famous Archery,
Thou dar'st to make a Butt of me,
Assure thy self my mortal Javelin
Shall in a moment be thy Navel in;
Or I will catch thee up by one
Of those fat stumps thou walk'st upon,

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And give your Rogueship such a swing,
As (Monsieur Chitty-face) shall fling
You and your implements to Hell:
And therefore (Don) consider well
Whom thou attaqu'st. Go Bird at other
Ladies of pleasure, shoot thy Mother,
She such a constant friend to Love is,
She'l take it for a Son-like office:
But level not at me thy Tiller:
For if thou do'st (thou pore-blind killer)
I've told thee what thou art to fear,
And I will do it, as I'me here.
Thus said, she (which not to dissemble)
Indeed law Mother, made me tremble,
And that too with so fierce a look,
As my poor heart could no way brook:
But like an Aspen leaf I shook,
And star'd, as I'de been planet-strook.
Which face so terrible appears
In that same steel Monteer of hers,
And then her Sheild's so full of dread,
With that fool staring Gorgon's head,

134

Which drest up in a Tour of Snakes,
The sight so much more horrid makes,
That the remembrance makes me sweat;
U'ds fish! methinks I see it yet.

Venus.
Dame Pallas, and Medusa's head
Are mighty dang'rous things indeed:
But yet, for all this mighty fear,
Thou nothing mak'st of Jupiter
For all the Thunder he does bear.
But (Sirrah) after these excuses,
How comes it, that the Nine fair Muses,
Who Gorgon's head, nor thunder have,
Should scape thy darts, thou jugling Knave;
Who, for all thou to do art able,
Do still remain invulnerable.

Cupid.
Why, faith I do those Damsels spare,
Out of the reverence that I bear
To their good singing; who when I
Happen into their Company,
Sing me, and that without intreaties,
Such Sonnets, Madrigals, and Ditties,
As ravish me to tell you plainly,
For you know I love Ballads mainly.

135

I then were an ingrateful Dog,
Should I those Virgins set agog
With a mad flame, that nothing dreads,
And make them loose their Maidenheads:
By which their voices every one
Would be foul crack't, nay spoil'd and gone.

Venus.
But what has Dame Diana done,
That thou should'st let her too alone?
Which way has she small (Quiver-bearer)
Oblig'd thy Deity to spare her?

Cupid.
Oh that Donzella, by relation
Is tane up with another passion.

Venus.
What passion's that of Love takes place?

Cupid.
Why she's enamour'd of the Chace.
Wherein the lusty, well-breath'd Dame
So fast pursues the flying Game,
The Hart, and Hind, the Buck, and Doe,
And skirs through Woods, and Forrests so,
That should I stalk at her a year,
I ne're should get a shoot at her.
And to pursue her is no boot,
The Damsel is too swift of foot:

136

But for her Brother, that Prince Prigg,
For all his dainty sanded Wigg,
And that he shoots at fourteen-score,
I think

Venus.
Thou need'st to say no more;
Thy bolts have oft his sides been thumping,
I know thy meaning by thy mumping.

The Judgment of Paris. DIALOGUE.

Jupiter, Mercury, Paris, and the three Goddesses.

Jup.
Hey! (Lacquay Mercury) appear!

Merc.
An't like your Majesty, I'me here.

Jupit.

Here (Sirrah) take this golden Apple
And go where Paris tends his Cattle
On Ida's top, to that smug Paris,
Who all the Shepheards much more fair is,
That smooth-fac't Trojan, and acquaint him,
That I of Beauty Judge appoint him,

137

Because he is a pretty fellow,
And sometimes makes his Neighbours yellow,
And that he knows, though clad in frock,
A Woman from a Weather-cock.

Come (fair ones) come, what are you doing?
It is high time that you were going;
I'le not be Judge, I swear, that's flat;
I think I know enough for that:
For if I should decide the strife
Betwixt my Daughters and my Wife,
Such matters I am so expert in,
That two I should offend, that's certain!
And to be plain, I mainly dread,
Pulling an old house o're my head.
Then sithence I can please but one,
I will e'ne fairly let t'alone:
For you are three that for it grapple,
And you all know there's but one Apple,
And I could wish, were't I that gave it,
That every one of you might have it:
But none of you need doubt t'appear
Before this new Lord Chancellor,

138

Don Paris, who is to decide
Your controversie upon Ide,
Though Chanceries admit no Jury;
For he's a King's Son I assure ye,
Descended from an honest Breed,
Own Cosin here to Ganimede,
So upright and so innocent,
That you all ought to rest content,
And have no reason to eschew him,
But wholly put the matter to him,

Venus.
For my part, Father Jupiter,
I am content, and am so far
From questioning, much more refusing
Any for Judge is of thy choosing,
That I should never doubt the matter,
Were Momus self the Arbitrator,
And willingly to this submit,
Who, if he have or eyes, or wit,
Will surely understand the duty,
That he, and all men owe to Beauty;
And if my Rivals do consent,
For my part I am most content.

139

Juno.
I from the Sentence shall not budge,
Though Mars himself were to be Judge,
Although thy Paramour he be,
And likely to incline to thee.

Jupit.
Art thou Minerva too agreed?
She blushes, and holds down her head.
But modesty's the Maiden's grace;
Besides I hate a brazen face,
And thou wert vertuously rear'd,
Maids should be seen, they say, not heard.
Therefore I see thou'rt too content,
And modest silence gives consent.
Go on then in a happy hour.
And let not those who lose look sowre,
Stomack th'award, nor bear a grudge
To him whom I have made your Judge:
For there is but one Golden Ball,
Which can't be given to you all,
Nor yet can several Beauties strike
The young mans liking all alike,
And therefore he must giv't to one,
Or keep't himself, and give it none.

140

Merc.
Come now y'ave heard your charge, I pray,
Let us be jogging, Ladies gay,
And set forth towards Phrygia;
I'le lead the best and nearest way,
That you may neither stop nor stay,
For such wild Cattle often stray.
And for the bus'ness of the Ball,
Never concern your selves at all,
I know this Paris well enough,
And of his dealing have had proof:
He is a very honest Younker,
A bonny Lad, and a great Puncker
As out on's sight did ever thrust his—
I warrant you he'l do you justice.

Venus.
The Character thou giv'st the Youth,
Does even ravish me in truth,
I've heard none such this many a day:
But is he marry'd, prethee say?

Merc.
He was a Batchellor last Friday;
But he a

Oenone.

Sweet-heart has on Ida,
If I mistake not; but she is
Some course, some home-spun, Rustick piece,

141

That only now and then attends him,
To draw the humor out offends him,
A necessary piece of wealth,
To keep his body in good health,
With whom he playes to help digestion:
But what makes thee to ask that question?

Venus.
I know not how it came to pass,
Of something else I thinking was.

Pallas.
You nimble (Monsieur Merc'ry) there
Captain Conductor, do you hear,
You ill discharge your trust (I trow)
To hold discourse, and whisper so
With Madam Venus on the way;
Is that in your Commission, pray?

Merc.
Why, if to pass the time we chat,
What can you (Madam) make of that?
'Twas no such secret, never fear it,
That we talk't of, but you may hear it:
She only ask't if Paris were
A marry'd man, or Batcheller.

Pallas.
And good-now, what is that to her?

Merc.
Nay, what know I (my Lady sine)
She sayes it was without design.

142

Pallas.
And is he marry'd?

Merc.
I think not;
For why should he be such a Sot,
As to go tye himself to one,
When all he speaks to are his own?

Pallas.
What! is the fellow a meer Bumkin?
A down right Clod, or has he something
Of honor and ambition in him;
For thou it seems hast often seen him?

Merc.
Why faith! the Fellow being young,
Of active limbs, and pretty strong,
And being Son unto a King,
I think he would give any thing,
Nay (on my Conscience) half his Cattle,
To signalize himself in Battle,
And would be glad 'mongst armed Bands,
To shew how tall he is on's hands,
Alwayes provided in the case
The Roysters would not spoil his face.

Venus.
Why, look you now, I can connive at
Your two discoursing thus in private,
Who though you have much longer chatted,
Yet you see I'me not angry at it.

143

I'me of another kind of nature,
And no such froward, snappish Creature.

Merc.
Nor is there cause here, I assure ye,
To put your Ladiship in fury;
For all she ask't me was no more
But just the same you did before,
And I return'd in answer too
The same to her I did to you:
But yet this little snapping Fray,
Has help't well onward on our way;
Help't us well onward only, said I!
Why we're past all the Stars already,
And over Phrygia now are come,
And so, fair Ladies, welcome home.
And see, sweet Charges, I have spy'd
The famous Mount ycleped Ide,
And now I come a little nigher,
I think I see your Apple-squire.

Juno.
Where abouts is he, prethee shew,
For hang me if I see him now?

Merc.
A little on your left hand, Madam,
Driving his Flocks I think to shade 'um.

144

O'th side of the high Mountain yonder,
You there may see your Costard-monger.
His flock lies open to your view,
And yonder is his Cabbin too.

Juno.
Where is this Youngster with a Pox,
I see no Cabbins, nor no Flocks.

Merc.
A better pair of eyes Jove send ye,
I doubt your Boon-grace does offend ye,
Your Maid'nhead hangs not in your light,
Jove is too good a Carpet Knight;
I ne're saw th'like in all my dayes,
Why he's as plain as Nose on face.
Guide your eye by my finger here,
Do you not see some Flocks appear
Comming from out yon Rocks, pray speak,
And one with Sheep-hook on his neck,
Sending his Curr to fetch 'um in?
They'r plain enough sure to be seen!

Juno.
Oh, now I see'm, is that the Youth?

Merc.
That Madam's even he in truth:
But now that we are got so near,
I think it good discretion were,

145

That ere we further go, we here
Do make our stop, and light, for fear,
Lest whilst on us he least is studdying,
Flutt'ring about his ears o'th'sudden,
We should perhaps affright him so
That the poor Shepheard should not know,
Nor what to think, nor what to do.
And he, who to determine is,
Of such a Tickle-point as this,
Had need to have his wits about him.

Juno.
Which if he have, I nothing doubt him.
So now w'are down, and now I pray,
Let gooddy Venus lead the way,
For doubtless she, of all the rest,
Most reason has to know it best,
As having oft to feed her vices,
Been here to seek her friend Anchises.

Venus.
Well Governess of Heav'ns Commander,
It is well known thy tongue's no slander,
Slander to her who slander broaches,
I scorn both thee, and thy reproaches.

Merc.
Fy! (Ladies) fy! is this your breeding,
To squabble now you come to pleading!

146

But I shall this dispute decide,
I my own self will be your guide;
For I remember well when Jove
Unto young Ganimede made love,
I often on this Hill did light
To see the little Favourite,
To bring him Plums, and Mackaroons,
Which welcome are to such small Grooms,
And when he carry'd him away,
I flew about 'um all the way,
To hold him up, and we must be
Neer to the place; for now I see
(Or I mistake) the very Rock
Where he sate piping to his flock,
When Jupiter in shape of Eagle,
Came the young stripling to inveigle,
And seizing him like any Sparrow,
With his beak holding his Tiara
To make him sure, as swift as Hobby
He bare him into Heavens Lobby,
Whilst the poor Boy, half dead with fear,
Writh'd back to view his Spiriter,

147

And then it was, that he let fall
The Flute he piping was withal,
When I, who will no gain let go by,
Seeing my time, catch't up the Hoboy:
But here is your Commissioner
Of Oyer, and of Terminer,
Let's civilly salute him, pray,
And give his Lordship time o'th' day.
Good day, thou top of Shepheards Fame.

Paris.
To thee (fair Son) I wish the same.
What Ladies are these pretty faces,
Thou lead'st into these desert places?
They are too fine, and tender sure,
These scratching Brambles to endure.

Merc.
Ladies! thou (Paris) moov'st my laughter,
They'r Deities ev'ry Mothers Daughter.
You have before you, I'de have you know,
Venus, Minerva, and Queen Juno.
'Tis truth I tell you (Sir) and I
Am Cavaliero Mercury.
What! thou turn'st colour (my good friend)
And seem'st to be at thy wits end;

148

Take courage (Paris) I exhort thee,
We are not hither come to hurt thee;
But 'cause thy Judgment we approve,
'Bove others in affairs of Love,
And know thee for a Fornicator,
We come to make thee Arbitrator,
Of a long suit these Goddesses
Depending have i'th' Common-pleas,
About priority of Beauty:
And therefore (Paris) do thy duty.
As to the rest the Victors meed,
Thou may'st about this Apple read.

Paris.
Let's see't. Hump! what is written here?
Give this unto the Fairest Fair.
Great Gods! how should a mortal wit
Be able to determine it!
Too mean mans skill without dispute is,
To judge of your immortal Beauties!
To judge of such Cœlestial Lasses,
A Swains capacity surpasses!
Or if that any humane wit
Were capable of doing it.

149

Some Courtier it should be no doubt,
Much rather than a Collin Clout.
If I were put to it to tell
Which of my sheep does bear the Bell;
Or to point out the fairest Goat;
I'de guess with any for a Groat;
And I have such good Judgment in it,
That peradventure I might win it:
But these are Beauties so divine,
And all with such perfections shine,
That a man's eye has much ado
T'leave one to look on th'other two:
But with the first's so captivated,
From thence he hardly can translate it;
But 'tis there riveted, concluding
That fairest is without disputing.
Besides (to speak the truth) my sight
So dazzled is with so much light
Of Heav'nly Beauty, that I vow.
Two eyes methinks are not enow;
But I at such a time as this
Would be all eyes, as Argus is,

150

With fuller sight to look upon
So much, so rare perfections.
And yet, ev'n in that state, I fear,
One being wife to Jupiter,
The other two his Daughters, I
Should do very imprudently,
In a contest of this high nature,
As this for preference of Feature,
Either to meddle, or to make:
But as they brew, so let 'um bake.

Merc.
You sometimes may discretion use,
But here you can nor will, nor choose;
Jupiter sayes it shall be so,
And what that means you needs must know.
'Tis then in vain to prate, and babble,
His orders are irrevocable.

Paris.
Why then have at 'um! and let those
Whose luck 'twill be the prize to lose,
Blame their ill fortune, and not me;
For I can please but one of three.

Merc.
Nay they'r all bound to that already,
To judgment therefore, and be speedy.

151

Paris.
Why seeing that it must be so,
Stand out (fair Ladies) all arow:
But first (Sir Mercury) I would know
If I may see 'um nak'd or no:
For womens chief perfections do
Lye underneath their cloths below,
Which they must either naked show,
And strip themselves from top to toe,
And ev'ry Goddess lay her tail
As bare, and naked as my nail,
That I may see out of the case,
All things as well as hands as face;
Or I shall never be so wise,
Where I can have no use of eyes,
With Justice to award the prize.

Merc.
Why thou art Dominus factotum,
And may'st at will unpetticoat 'um.

Paris.
Why then, if I may rule the roast,
I affect naked women most,
And therefore Merc'ry so present 'um,
I may see all that Jove has sent 'um.

Merc.
Come Ladies, blanch you to your skins,
'Tis but a penance for your sins,

152

And what you are oblig'd to do;
Your Governour will have it so.
And whilst your Judge with learing eyes
Into each chink and cranny pries,
Of all your curiosities,
I'le be so civil, or so wise,
Least any mischief should arise,
To turn my back, which is of all
Respects the most unnatural;
And whilst your treasures you display,
Turn my Calves-head another way.

Venus.
Why an't be for your Worships ease,
You may e'en do so if you please:
But otherwise (my modest Don)
Some here can abide looking on,
And though you are a nimble one,
Let our apparel but alone,
And there is nothing I dare say,
Your modesty can steal away.
In the mean time Gramercy Paris!
He loves I see that play that fair is,
And most judiciously has spoken;
He will not buy a Pig a poke in:

153

But wisely will bring all things out,
And see within doors, and without,
And I will shew thee such a sight,
That if thou hast an appetite,
And art indeed a true bred Cock,
When I pull off my Cambrick Smock,
Shall make thee glory in thy being,
And bless Jove for thy sense of Seeing:
Thou'lt then see I not only have
Eyes, cheeks, and lips, that can enslave,
And outward beauties (or else some lye)
As captivating, and as comely,
As either Juno's here, or hers,
Who stand my fair Competitors:
But such a skin so smooth and supple,
Of leggs so white a parting couple,
Such knees, such thighs, and such a Bumm,
And such a, such a Modicum,
Shall make thy melting mouth to water,
Perhaps by fits for seav'n years after.

Pal.
Take heed (young Paris) thou'rt a Novice,
And that the cunning Dame of Love is;

154

Look not upon her, 'tis not best,
Until she have put off her Cest;
For she's a Sorceress, and carries
Enchantments in it, Monsieur Paris.
She's nought but treachery and treason,
Nor to say truly is it reason,
Now that her Beauty's brought to th'test,
That she should come so finely drest,
Like a patch't Minx, and painted Whore:
But when she comes her Judge before,
As she came into th'world, I take it,
Should appear open, plain, and naked,
Stript of her pouncings, and devices,
Her shifts, her tricks, and artifices.

Paris.
Troth she speaks reason, come lay by
That tawdry Girdle presently.

Venus.
Make her her Helmet then lay by,
She shall be strip't as well as I,
There's no enchantment in my Cest:
But that same Cask has such a Crest,
As is enough to look on it,
To fright a Shepherd out on's wit.

155

Sure she's afraid that her blew eyes
Want power to obtain the prize,
And if she finds they cannot do't,
She means to fright, or beat thee to't,
And I commend her wisdom truly,
For her blew eyes will come off blewly.

Pallas.
No, I as thee as soon will strip,
And for to please your Ladiship,
There lies the over-awing Crest.

Venus.
'Tis very brave, and there's my Cest.

Juno.
Fie, what a tedious work you make it,
Let's strip, I long to be stark naked;
And now we naked are (Sir Paris)
Consider pray which the most fair is.

Paris.
I marry here's a sight worth seeing,
Though one had spent's estate in seeing.
Oh what rare flesh, what excellencies
What dainty, Super-dainty wenches,
What a brave Lass is Madam Pall!
What state does Juno move withal!
By which 'tis evident they are,
Daughter and Wife to Jupiter.

156

But Venus is indeed a Pearl;
Did ever man see such a Girle?
Oh what a lovely face is there!
What crisped locks of Amber hair!
What a white neck! what Breasts! what shoulders!
Belly! and Back to catch beholders!
What hips! what haunches! what care thighs!
Enough to make the dead to rise!
To which, in love I'me not so simple,
But to observe she has a dimple,
And such a one, as who would not
Put all his flesh into the Pot!
In fine (as good Sir Martyn sayes)
I have not wit enough to praise
The several Beauties, and the Graces,
Adorn them all in all their places.
The sight whereof's a happiness
Too great for tongue, or pen t'express:
Nay, any one of them would be
Too much for mortal eye to see.
Yet since the mighty Jupiter
Has my poor Judgment priz'd so far,

157

As simple me a Judge to make;
That in my choice I mayn't mistake,
And thrust, like over-greedy Sot,
My Spoon into th'wrong Porridge pot,
Better to manifest my Art,
I'le study every one apart,
And view 'um one by one at leasure,
(Which also will prolong my pleasure.)
For in beholding them in Muster,
They do confound me so with lustre,
I shall my reputation loose,
And ne're know rightly how to choose.

Venus.
Content, my cause I nothing doubt,
And stare till both thy eyes start out.

Paris.
Why then let Madam Juno stay,
She's the best Woman (by my fah)
And whilst her beauties I admire,
I'le have the other two retire.

Juno.
Come on (Sir Paris) now survey me,
And turn me round, as thou wouldst ha 'me,
I'le stand, or lye, as thou dost pray me,
And moppe too, if thou'lt not betray me.

158

But when thou round about hast ey'd-me,
High, low, between, and ev'ry side me,
(Young Paris) I would thee advise,
In loving and in courteous wise,
To think that thy preserment lies,
In thy awarding me the prize.
And though I need not bribe, nor sue,
For that I know to be my due;
Yet if thou'lt favour me this day,
I'le make thee King of Asia.

Paris.
Troth I am not ambitious Madam,
And as for Kingdoms if I had 'um,
To King-it passes my poor skill,
And I should be a Shepheard still:
But this the short is, and the long,
I'le do your Majesty no wrong,
And now I've seen what I desire,
Be pleas'd I pray you to retire;
And send me Lady Pallas hither,
For I can't deal with two together.

Pallas.
Here (thou best Judge of best deserts)
Contemplate on Minerva's parts;

159

I hope, or thou deservest whipping,
Thou wilt give me the golden Pippin,
Which if thou dost (Youth mark me well)
I'le render thee invincible:
And whether thou with doughty Knight,
Arm'd, or unarm'd, shalt enter flight;
Nay with a Gyait, or an Ettin,
Thou ever shalt be sure to beat him.

Paris.
Lady, I never did delight in
This scurvy dang'rous thing, call'd fighting,
And therefore shall not be a dealer
In the commodity call'd valour.
Besides my Fathers Kingdoms are
Quiet (thanks be to Jove) from War;
I with a Taylor play'd indeed
At Cudgels, but he broke my head:
And have such scurvy luck in Battle,
I rather had by half tend Cattle:
But though I'me but a Country peasant,
I'le not be brib'd with gift, nor present,
And yet I can't but thank you still
(Fine Madam) for your great good will,

160

Which I so kindly take, I swear,
My Equity you need not fear:
For I'le do Justice, right or wrong,
And there's an end of an old Song.
But to advise you I'le be bold,
Pray d'on your cloths for taking cold,
And your steel Cap will do no harm,
To keep your learned Headpiece warm,
And pray as hence you do go from me,
Send Madam Venus hither to me.

Venus.
Here's Venus that you call for so;
Survey me now from top to toe,
And if thou find'st when thou hast view'd me,
Any one wrinckle more shoo'd be,
Or if my Bumm have any flawes in't,
Il'e give thee leave to put thy nose in't.
I'le tell thee without fraud or guile,
I have, and for no little while,
(Having tane note of thy desert,
And what a pretty fellow th'art,
Thy youth, thy feature, shape, and fashion)
Had on thee very great compassion,

161

To see thee tending rotten flocks
Amongst these solitary rocks;
Great Cities, nor Assemblies heeding,
Where young men use to get their breeding:
But wasting here thy time in Caverns,
Which would be better spent in Taverns.
What's to be learn't amongst these Groves,
By still conversing with thy Droves,
I prethee say, and do not lye,
But ignorance, and clownery!
What pleasure's in this rural life!
'Tis time that thou had'st got a wife,
Or which is better a fine Miss:
Not some course Sun-burnt Frull, I wis.
But of fam'd Argos some rare piece,
Of Corinth, or some Town in Greece,
Such as the Spartan Helen is,
Her Sexes pride and Masterpiece,
As handsome Paris is of his.
And who (I know it) is as free,
Buxome, and amorous as he.

162

And if the little wanton Tit
But saw thee once, I'me sure of it,
She would both home and Husband quit
To follow thee for dainty Bit;
She would both love and long so sore.
Did'st never hear of her before?

Paris.
No, never syllable (I vow)
But very fain would hear it now.

Venus.
Why, she is daughter to that

Læda.

fair
For whom our am'rous Jupiter
Transform'd himself into a Swan,
Her Maiden-head for to trapan.

Paris.
And is she wonderfully fair?

Venus.
Why what a Country question's there!
How should she, canst thou think, be other,
Having a Swan unto her Mother?
Nor is she gross, you may suppose,
Whom an egg-shell did once enclose.
Had'st seen her once wrestle a prize
Naked, as 'tis her Country guise,
I dare most confidently swear,
Thou'dst long to try a fall with her.

163

Already they'r at wars about her,
For Theseus like a boistrous suiter,
To Spirit her away made bold,
When she was but poor ten years old,
A little snotty Chitterling;
But now she's quite another thing.
A Miracle I do protest,
Her Beauty with her Age's increast,
That she is now the only Miss
Of all the spruce young blades of Greece.
A thousand Suitors all have sought her,
But Menelaus now has got her;
Yet for all that, shew me but favour
And say the word, and thou shalt have her.

Par.
How can I have her (that's a Jeast!)
When she is married thou sayst?

Venus
Is that a thing to be so wondred?
'Tis the least mater of a hundred;
For that Man never scratch thy pate,
I can do greater Feats than that.
In the mean time (Sir) by your leave,
You'r a meer Novice I perceive.

164

Paris.
But which way you intend to go
About it (Madam) I would know.

Venus.
Why the design of it is this,
Thou shalt go travel into Greece,
Wherein thy main pretence shall be
Only for curiosity,
To see what thou hast heard the Fame on:
And when thou com'st to Lacedemon,
Ere thou'rt well got into thy Inn,
I'me certain that the lovely Queen
Will forthwith make her Hen-peck't Spouse,
Send to invite thee to his House,
Which is as fair, as fair can be;
And for the rest leave that to me.

Paris.
Why I will try my luck in Goddle;
But it wont sink into my noddle
That such an admirable piece,
The very flower, and pride of Greece,
And a great Queen, as that you mean,
Should be so impudent a Quean,
To leave her Country, and her Honey,
To whom she's join'd in Matrimony,

165

And run away with such a one
As I, a stranger, and unknown.

Venus.
Why, I confess it something odd is,
But there's the power of a Goddess.
And that's a trick that I defie
Best on 'um all to do but I.
Now I two Sons have you must know,
Which these miraculous feats can do:
Of which the one by Art is able
To make a party amiable,
And th'other has the power to move,
Who sees that loveliness to love.
In order then to this design
I mean to place these Brats of mine,
Who are t'effect this enterprize,
One of them (Paris) in thine eyes,
And th'other I'le convey by art
Into fair Helen's tender heart:
Which being order'd (by my troth)
The Devil must be in you both,
If what remains, do want fulfilling,
When both of you are made so willing.

166

But yet on surer grounds to go
(For One can't be too sure you know)
I'le give thee two strings to thy Bow,
And thou shalt have with thee the Graces,
(Three very pretty little Lasses,
Who can do much in such like Cases)
In thy adventure to attend thee,
Whose Services will much befriend thee;
For they to grace thee not despising,
Shall daily wait upon thy rising,
(And never Asian Cavaliers
Could boast they had such Chambrieres)
Where dressing thee each day, the whiles
One tricks thy face in winning smiles,
With greater power to accost her;
Th'others in such a swimming posture
Thy arms, and hands, thy leggs, and feet,
In such a graceful mean shall set,
As shall if Nell have any sence,
So tickle her Concupiscence,
That she will run the whole world over
With such a rare accomplish't Lover.

167

Par.
These are fine promises indeed;
And though Jove knows how I shall speed,
Yet I'me so ravisht with this geere,
That I already burn to see'r;
And you have (Madam) set m'ambition
So hot upon this Expedition,
That 'ere a man can say what's this,
Methinks I'me travelling to Greece,
Am come to Sparta, safe as may be,
Have seen, attacqut and won the Lady;
Who having with her Jewels lin'd me,
And being lightly whipt behind me,
None to our Journey being privy,
Am posting her to Troy Tantivy,
All which does in my mind so run,
That I am mad it is not done.

Venus.
Soft! do not spur too fast your dapple,
Till first y'ave given me the Apple.
There lies my Service's rewarding,
That I must have or else no bargain.
Then give it me, I preethee doe
Come, come, thou knowst it is my due,

168

I else shall either fret, and fume, or
So musty be, and out of humour,
That the event is to be doubted,
I'st ne're go cheerfully about it.
And then be sure no good can come,
For one must never go Hum-drum
About so nice a work as this is;
But it is mettle carries Misses,
And therefore without more protraction,
Give me this little satisfaction,
And (Paris) when thou com'st to bedding,
Oh how I'le trip it at thy wedding.

Paris.
Nay, you'r a Jigger, we all know;
But if you should deceive me now!

Venus.
Who, I deceive thee! never fear me:
But if thou art distrustful, swear me.

Paris.
No, that security's too common,
Besides, Oaths never bind a woman:
But (Madam) if you can afford
Once more to promise on your word,
That I shall have this bonny Nelly,
More of my mind I then shall tell ye.

169

Venus.
Why then know all men by these presents,
That spite of Princes, Courtiers, Peasants,
And all, both man and woman kind,
I here my self most firmly bind,
To give thee Helen, pride of Greece,
To be thine own Lyndabrides.
That I will pay down Sparta's Spouse
In the now very dwelling House
Of Signior Priam King of Troy,
And then (Sir Paris) give you joy.
Nay, I do bind my self beside,
To be in person mine thy Guide,
And will (since thy Wit won't suffice)
Carry on the whole enterprize.

Paris.
You my request are gone beyond,
I (Madam) did demand no Bond.
And will you bring your Cupids too,
(My lovely Dame) along with you?

Venus.
Pish! never doubt it man! I'le do't,
Desire, and Hymen too to boot.

Paris.

Then call the others in that went hence,
That I may now proceed to Sentence.

170

Fair Goddesses I pray draw near.

Jupiter has imploy'd me here,
In such a very nice affair,
So much indeed against the hair,
That had his Majesty thought fit
To have exempted me from it,
I would have given (or I'me a Knave)
A score of the best Ews I have:
But since he's pleas'd to have it so,
I must perforce obey you know;
Yet ere I do pronounce the Sentence,
Let me upon this small acquaintance,
Entreat the losers to be civil,
And at my hands not take it evil
If I Like one above the rest,
I cannot help it I protest.

Here is a Golden Apple here,
Which must be thought such price to bear
(Through cunning o'th' malicious

The Goddess Discordia.

Donor)
That none forsooth must be the owner,
But she who is the fairest fair;
When from my heart, I vow and swear,

171

And without fraud, or flattery,
There is not one of all you three,
For whom a Bushel's not too few,
Had but your Beauties half their due.
Which Beauties (gentle Madams) I
Consider'd have impartially,
And find them all so excellent,
That truly I could be content,
Were it consistent with my duty,
To give to each the prize of Beauty:
But I am ty'd, when all is done,
T'award it only unto one.
Now Venus being in those parts,
Which have the greatest pow'r o're hearts,
The most exactly shap't of all,
I judge to her the Golden Ball.

Juno.
Learnedly spoke, I had not car'd
If Pallas here had been prefer'd;
But to bestow it on that Trapes,
It mads me!

Pallas.
Hang him Jack an-apes.

172

DIALOGUE.

Mars and Mercury.

Mars.
Hast heard o'th' loud Rhodomontade
That t'other day Jupiter made?
Which was, that if we on this fashion,
Daily provok't his indignation;
He would, if anger'd once again,
From Heav'n to Earth let down a Chain,
With which he up to him would hale
Mankind, the Elements, and all,
With such a mighty strength, that though
We all had hold of it below,
And pull'd to stay't, we could not doo't,
But he would pull us up to boot.
Now I must needs confess, no one
Of all us Deities alone,
Is able near, unless he list,
To grapple with his Mutton-fist:
And he will lose, whoever vies
With him at any Exercise:

173

But to imagine, that all we
So brave a jolly Company,
Joyn'd altogether, should not be
As strong, nay stronger far than he,
In truth, in him I do conceive it
An arrogancy to believe it,
And vanity devoid of wit,
So openly to publish it.
And yet for all his mighty vaunting,
His domineering, and his ranting,
All of the Gods, and I and you know,
When Neptune, Pallas, and Queen Juno,
By combination had trapan'd him,
And had intended to have chain'd him;
He'd much ado, though his strength such is,
To disingage him from their clutches.
Nor had he done it for all that
(Though now he vapour can and prate)
For all his striving, and his strugling,
His writhing, wrigling, and his jugling,
Nor all his strength, which now so great is;
Had not his old friend, Madam Thetis,

174

In time of danger sent him there,
Briareus the Hot cockle player,
With a whole hundred Cluster-fists
To disingage him from the Lists.
And by my faith he came in season
To rescue him from the High-treason,
Or else with this my hussing Don,
I know not how it would have gone.

Merc.
Prethee hanck up thy tongue again,
And do not give it so much rein.
These words do make my ears to tingle.
'Tis well that thou and I are single,
This language is unsafe, I swear,
For thee to speak, or me to hear.

Mars.
Do'st think I have so little wit
To talk thus unto all I meet?
No friend, I wiser am than so,
I know well whom I speak it to,
One, who not only has a Talent
In speaking, but in being silent;
But shou'd another chance to come
Of Mavors, not a word but Mum.

175

DIALOGUE.

Pan and Mercury.

Pan.
Good morrow (Father!) how dost do?

Mer.
Good morrow Son, since t'must be so,
But why call'st thou me Father trow?
For to behold those goodly horns,
That py'd beard, which thy face adorns,
That single wagging at thy Butt,
Those Cambrils, and that cloven foot,
Thou do'st much more (not to dissemble)
A He-Goat, than a God resemble.

Pan.
'Tis very well! but all this while
Thou thine own Issue do'st revile,
And giv'st thy self many fowl Rubs.
Prethee what's he that gets such Cubs?
For all this handsome shape you see
Came from my Father, and thou'rt he.

Mer.
I would thou could'st perswade me to it!
But thou'lt have much ado to do it.

176

I'le make much of my self, I'de need,
If but in reverence to my breed.
But if thy happy (Sire) I am,
Who the great Devil was thy Dam?
Did I not meet with some Shee-Goat
Travested in a petticoat?
For never sure did woman bear
So uncouth a prodigious Heir.

Pan.
No (Father) I would have thee know't,
Thou did'st not couple with a Goat,
Th'ast not forgot, yet I dare say,
How once in fair Arcadia
With beastly lust, and barb'rous power,
Thou did'st a pretty Maid deflowre!
What need'st thou bite thy fingers ends,
I only speak it amongst friends?
It is Penelope I mean.

Merc.
I do remember such a Quean,
A pretty Girl: but how could she
Bring out so fowl a Beast as thee,
More like a Devil than like me?

Pan.
Nay, I'me as like my Dad, in sooth,
As he had spit me out on's mouth,

177

That is, as like what then thou we'rt,
When thou play'dst that uncivil part:
For then, if th'ast it not forgot,
Thou turnd'st thy self into a Goat
With a face fowl as any Vizor,
In policy for to surprize her.

Merc.
Yes, I remember, out upon it!
But troth I am asham'd to own it.

Pan.
Faith for the Rape I cannot blame ye;
But as for me, I shall not shame ye,
And few there are prefer'd before me:
For besides that, they do adore me
All o're Arcadia, where possest
I am of thousand Flocks at least.
My qualities have purchast Fame:
For Doctor I of Musick am,
And more have made my valour known
In the great field of Marathon,
For which good service the Athenians
Have given me a fine convenience
Wherein to sit, eat, drink, or snort,
A Grotto underneath their Fort,

178

Where thou shalt see, if e're th'com'st thither,
How highly I am honour'd (Father.)

Merc.
What art thou marry'd?

Pan.
No not yet,
I hitherto have had more wit.

Merc.
I wonder at it not, in truth,
For who'd have such a sweet fac't youth?

Pan.
Pish! had I nothing else to do,
(Father) I could have Wives enow,
And therefore that's a vain Objection:
But I've so amorous a Complexion,
And do with love so scald and burn,
One Wife would never serve my turn.

Merc.
Thou bugger'st then the Goats I doubt.

Pan.
Good words! no I'me not so put too't;
Eccho, and Pitys, full of blisses,
Are both content to be my Misses,
And all the Rout of Bacchanals,
Come with a powder when Pan calls.
By which (good Father) you may know
I better spend my time than so.

179

Mer.
Believ't they'r wond'rous kind to thee,
And 'tis no wonder though they be,
Th'ast such a charming Phisnomy.
But I have a request unto thee
Will do me good, and no harm do thee,
It is so small; which is, that seeing
I was so blest to give thee being,
Thou in return wilt be so civil
As not to pay my good with evil,
But wheresoe're we chance to meet
In house, or field, or in the street,
So oft as we shall come together
Thou do forbear to call me Father;
For not to mince the verity,
I'me damnably asham'd of thee:
But for this once shake hands and part,
And so farewel with all my heart.

180

DIALOGUE.

Apollo and Bacchus.

Apollo.
Who'd think that such a Jack-an-ape as
Cupid, the mighty Tool'd Priapus,
And Androginus, of all others
Should all of the same womb be brothers,
Being so much unlike in feature,
In humor, and in shape, and stature.
For once a little Goddikin,
No bigger then a Skittle-pin,
Yet little as he is can scare-us,
If he once takes his Bow and Arrows,
And of the other two, the latter
Can make nor Man's, nor Maiden's water,
The t'other somewhere is more tall
By handfulls, than the best on's all.

Bacchus.
Why this diversity each gathers,
From the variety of Fathers,
Though every day indeed presents
As great and strange a difference,

181

Ev'n amongst those who had no other
But the same Father, and same Mother.

Apollo.
Yet 'tis quite otherwise you see
Betwixt my Sister Die and me,
Who the same vertues have, and vices,
And follow the same exercises.

Bacchus.
But that mad Hack in petticoats,
In Scythia's busie cutting throats,
Whilst thou dost men of money fleece,
With giving Physick here in Greece,
And pray what Sympathy's in this?

Apollo.
Why Bacchus dost thou think that she
Takes a delight in cruelty,
In hearing blood in throats to rottle,
Like liquor from a strait-mouth'd Bottle?
Alass, she only does it, she
Meerly out of complacency,
T'accommodate her self t'th' fashion,
And humor of that barbarous Nation;
At which she takes so great offence,
That she but waits to steal from thence,
When any Grecian ship comes thither,
To take her in, and bring her hither.

182

Bacchus.
Why truly then I do commend her,
And a good gale of wind Jove send her.
In the mean time I needs must tell you
Priapus is a beastly fellow:
For (no one being by but us)
Calling at's house at Lampsacus,
After we'd eaten well, and much,
And quaff't it smartly upsy-Dutch,
It being pretty coldish weather,
He needs would have us lye together;
And so we did, when in the Night,
When least (I swear) I dream't of it,
Betwixt some twelve and one a Clock,
He tilts his Tantrum at my Nock,
Till with extremity of pain
He plainly made me roar again.

Apollo.
A very edifying story!
And what did you, whil'st he did bore ye?

Bac.
What should I do, but make the best on't,
I only laught, and made a jeast on't.

Ap.
Some would perhaps have kept a puther:
But thou I think could'st do no other,

183

But put on patience, and lye still.
Alass! he did it in good will,
And it had been ill nature in thee
When he good meat and drink had g'in thee,
For to grudge him who fed thee gratis,
So small a courtesie as that is.
Besides, he great temptations had;
For thou'rt a pretty smock-fac't Lad.

Bacchus.
But yet o'th' two (my friend Apollo)
Thou art by much the prettier fellow,
And therefore if he once make suit t'ee
To lye in's house, faith look about ye.

Apol.
Well! well! but he were best take heed
How he attaques my Maiden-head.
His mighty Trap-stick cannot scare-us;
For we have good Yew-bow, and Arrows,
As well as a white Wig to tempt him,
And if he draw, he will repent him.
Besides, I'me so set round with light,
And am withal so quick of sight,
That much I do not need to fear,
To be surprized in my Rear.

184

DIALOGUE.

Mercury, and his Mother Maya.

Merc.
Bestow your counsel on some other,
'Tis labor lost on me (good Mother)
For e're I'le lead the life I do,
And be this Drudge, I tell you true,
And so I'le tell old Father Lasher,
I am resolv'd I'le e'en turn Thrasher.
S'fish! I'me a slave, a pack-horse made,
Would I'de been Prentice to a Trade;
Or bred up with some honest Farmer,
Who would have clad me perhaps warmer,
Though not so fine, and giv'n me rest,
And not have work't me like a Beast?
A God Quotha! No Deity
Was ever sure so us'd as I:
But e're this life I'le longer lead,
I'le stroll for Lower, or begg my bread,

185

And run, nay fly, let who will hear me,
Far as my leggs, or wings will bear me.

Maya.
Nay prethee Son, govern thy passion,
And do not talk of this wild fashion.

Merc.
Why should I not speak out (forsooth)
So long as I speak nought but truth?
Tut! tut! I scorn to mince the matter;
I was not bred to lye, and flatter,
And being abus'd thus I must speak,
And ease my heart, or it will break.
I speak no Treason. Have I not
Very good reason to find fault,
When Jupiter does force on me
More work, more toyl, and drudgery
(Which, Mother, cannot be deny'd)
Than upon all the Gods beside?
First, I by spring of day must come
To wash, and rub the dining Room,
(Which does not alwayes smell of Amber:)
Next, I must clean the Councel Chamber,
And dust the Wooll-packs; after that
I must go dress the Rooms of State,

186

Brush Cushions, Chairs, and foot-Cloaths too,
(Which takes up no small time to do:)
Nay, all this yet will not suffice,
But I must sweep the Galleries,
Though others are more sit to do't,
The Lobby's, and back Stairs to boot;
Then having swept my face of fat,
Powder'd, and put on clean Cravat,
I must i'th' Anti-chamber wait
Jupiter's rising, to receive
Such orders as he is pleas'd to give.
(Which ever num'rous are no doubt)
And then must carry them about,
Work that requires a supple Hamm.
Then Steward I o'th' Houshold am,
Yes, and Cup-bearer too, at least
As often as he makes a Feast,
And had that office ev'ry day
Till Ganimede came into play.
But all this work is nothing yet,
And I could well away with it:

187

But that with which I'me most opprest,
Is that at night, when all's releast,
And every one goes to his rest,
No one but me employ he can
To convoy a great Caravan
Of pale-fac't dead folks unto Hell;
Company that i'th' Night might well
The stoutest God in Heav'n daunt.
Where also before Rhadamant
I must indite and prosecute 'um,
Which e're by Law we can confute 'um,
Repeating every little Crime,
Does take up such a world of time,
The day is ready for to peep in:
And then what time have I to sleep in?
And yet all this, this Jupiter
Whom I have serv'd so many year
(Wherein h'as had good service on me)
The conscience has to impose upon me,
As not enough employ'd I were
In being Serjeant, Orator,
Cup-bearer, Wrestler, and what not,
But I must on these errands trot,

188

To be deprived of the rest
Mortals allow to every Beast.
Castor and Pollux each one knows,
By turns are suffer'd to repose.
But I am toss't like Tennis-ball,
And am allow'd no rest at all.
But am dispatch't both Morn and Even,
From Heav'n to Earth, from Earth to Heaven:
Whilst Bacchus here, and Hercules,
Who are no Sons of Goddesses
As I am, but more meanly born
Of wretched Mortals, and forlorn,
At great Jove's board in feast and play,
Merrily pass the time away.
I need had of a Horse to ride on,
For I'me but just now come from Sidon,
Where I have with Europa bin;
But I am sent away again
To Argos with another How-d'ee
To Danae a wretched Dowdy,
When I am almost spent I vow t'ee.

189

Nay more than that, I must, they say,
Make too Bœotia in my way
To visit there Antiopa.
But flatly I've refus'd to do it;
For (Mother) I'le not melt my Suet
For no good words that can be given,
Nor ne're a Jupiter in Heaven.
And though ('tis true) he keeps me brave,
On's service I such comfort have,
I sometimes would be sold a slave,
And run the risque of all disaster,
Fall what fall can to change my Master.

Maya.
Come prethee moderate thy passion,
These are but words of indignation.
I'le have no talk of parting neither.
What! what! you must obey your Father,
And never think he does you wrong:
You must take pains too whil'st y'are young,
And do whate're he bids you do,
And fear not you'l have Sons enow,
When you are old to work for you.
I prethee then no longer stand,
But go, and execute's command.

190

I know he's cholerick if thwarted,
And to be apt to be transported.
Love too is such an odd disease,
That Lovers are most hard to please;
Will alwayes have their own fond wayes,
And are impatient of Delayes.

DIALOGUE

Jupiter and Sol,

J.
Why thou unlucky sensless fool,
Thou Dunce, thou Loggerhead, thou Owl!
Th'ast made fine work here, hast thou not?
To go and trust thy Chariot
With a young giddy hair-brain'd Sot,
Who, unto thy eternal shame,
One half o'th' world has set on flame;
And (which to think on't makes me shudder)
So hard has frozen up the other,
That if I had not knock't him down
With a good rap upon his crown,
And turn'd him topsie-turvy under,
With a good rattling clap of Thunder,

191

At the mad rate that he was driving,
He had destroy'd all Creatures living,
And all mankind, had he on posted,
Had either frozen been, or roasted,
And then you'd made (I hope you'l grant)
A pretty piece of bus'ness on't.

Sol.
Oh Jupiter, I guilty am,
Yea, inexcusably too blame,
And without mercy am undone
For my indulgence to a Son,
I could not for my heart deny.
And then to see a

Clymene:

Mistress cry,
And tears run trickling down her face,
Would e'en have mov'd a heart of brass.
'Twas that that did my Reason charm,
But (as I'me here) I thought no harm.

Jup.
No harm! how dar'st thou tell me so!
Did'st not thy Horses fury know?
What hast thou been my Charioteer
So many hundred thousand year;
Yet that thou know'st not, now can'st swear,
What fiery head strong Jades they were?

192

Yes (Sirrah) you knew well enough
How hard to rule they were, and rough,
And that they would do more than trot,
If bridle once in teeth they got;
And that if once they got a foot,
Much more a wheel out of the Rut,
All would be lost; you knew all this,
And yet for your Lyndabrides,
To humor her (forsooth) you must
Like a damn'd Rogue betray your trust,
Endanger all the world, and set
A Novice in that dang'rous seat,
Who to drive Topps was fitter far,
Than guide the Day's triumphant Carr.

Sol.
I must confess (as your Grace sayes)
I knew the Jades were Runawayes,
And therefore did the wilful Ass
With my own hands i'th' Coach-box place,
Taught him the Reins to draw, and slip,
And shew'd him how to hold his whip,
Taught him the right Poppysma too,
Which both the Horses full well knew,

193

And my own hold before I quitted,
No one instruction I omitted
That I conceiv'd was necessary.
Assur'd then he could not miscarry,
I left him to himself, and bid him
Touchez monfils, and so good speed him.
He crack't his whip o're the mad Cattle
The Chariot wheels began to rattle,
And through the Eastern-gate they run:
But my fool-hardy, aukward Son,
So ill (wo worth the time I got him)
Retain'd the Lessons I had taught him,
That he had scarce, it should appear,
A furlong got in his Cariere,
When th'Stallions, with the flaming Mains,
Finding by slackness of the Reins
They'd got another Charioteer,
Away they strain'd in wild Cariere,
And left the Road, which had they kept,
Although the wind they had out-stript
In speed, yet running the right way,
'Twould but have made a shorter day:

194

But the rash Boy amaz'd with light,
And dizzy at the fearful sight
Of the Abyss he saw below him,
Both Whip and Reins he streight cast fro him,
And by the Coach-box held him fast,
'Till thou in wrath gav'st him his last.
So for his temerarious action
My Boy has paid full satisfaction,
And in his loss I think that I
Too punish't am sufficiently.

Jup.
He, I confess, has had his payment,
But thou who wert the most too blame in't,
Deserv'st at least to be strappado'd,
Nay, stead alive, and carbonado'd.
But I to mercy encline rather,
And pardon an indulgent Father,
On this condition (nevertheless)
Thou never so again transgress.
For if thou do'st (thou Rascal thou)
I'le make thee both to feel, and know,
That this same Thunder which I handle,
Is hotter than your farthing Candle.

195

In the mean time this I'le do for ye,
Because I see thou art so sorry,
I will that Phaetons Sisters go
Enterr him on the Banks of Po,
Just where he fell, and for their Guerdon,
I'le do a thing was never heard on:
Transform 'um into Poplars all,
From whom a certain Gum shall fall,
To imitate the tears they shed
Over the hair-brain'd Logger-head.
As to the rest it fits thy care
Thy broken Waggon to repair,
Which will require rightly to do it,
A Carpenter, and Wheel-wright to it.
For first the Carriage is broken,
And one o'th' Wheels has ne're a spoke on,
The Harness too so much amiss is,
'Tis torn in twenty thousand pieces.
But as to that I to befriend thee,
A special Cobler streight will send thee,
And when th'ast got thy tackle mended,
Begin a new where thy Son ended.

196

But now they've learn't a resty trick,
The Jades no doubt will frisk and kick,
As they were new again to break,
And may endanger too thy neck,
I promise ye I mainly doubt ye,
And therefore (Sirrah) look about ye.

DIALOGUE.

Apollo and Mercury.

Apol.
I'me so confounded with this pair,
This Castor, and this Pollux here,
This brace of Cignets, that one Brother
I'me still mistaking for the other,
Which puts me out of Count'nance so,
I know not what to say, or do.
For they'r so like, that when I meet 'um,
And with respect would kindly greet 'um,
Servant Don Castor, streight cry I:
I'me Pollux, cries he by and by.
Then presently my self I flatter,
The next time sure to mend the matter,

197

When meeting one of 'um alone,
What Monsieur Pollux, and go on,
I'me proud to be your Servant known,
And then 'tis Castor ten to one.
Now though herein there ever is
As much to hit as there's to miss,
Yet o'th' wrong name I alwayes light,
And never yet was in the right.
If thou can'st give me then some mark
Particular to either Spark,
That I may one from t'other know,
I prethee (honest Merc'ry) do.

Merc.
Why that you yesterday embrac't here,
When we together were, was Castor.

Ap.
But how can'st know him from his Brother,
When they'r so like to one another.

Merc.
Why Pollux is so giv'n to huffing,
His face still's black and blew with cuffing:
And to be more particular,
His left cheek wears a noted scar
Of a good wherrit Bebrix gave him,
Which over-board no doubt had drave him,
Had not friend Jason stept to save him.

198

Which Recumbendibus he got
By being of an Argonaut,
When Jason sailed into Greece,
To steal away the Golden Fleece.

Apollo.
Gramercy faith, I'le swear a Book on,
Thou hast oblig'd me by this token.
For which was which I ne're could tell,
But seeing each with his half shell,
His white horse, Javelin, and his Star,
To me the same they alwayes were,
And I, when I would seem well bred,
Did still consound 'um, as I said:
But since I'me so beholding to thee,
Resolve me one thing more I prethee;
And tell me why these brothers never
Are to be seen in Heav'n together.

Merc.
Why you must know that Jupiter
Upon the hatching of this pair,
These Twins of Læda fair, decreed
(I think for to preserve the Breed)
That one the Destinies should curtal,
But th'other be ordain'd immortal:

199

Which known to them, as well as others,
They, like two very loving Brothers,
By an affection very rare,
The good and ill alike would share.
Thus when one dies, the other mourns,
And so they live, and dye by turns.

Apollo.
'Tis sign of very good condition,
But 'tis a friendship sans fruition;
For in this manner neither Brother
Can ever see, or speak to th'other:
But of what Calling are these Blades?
For we have all of us our Trades.
I am a Prophet and Musitian,
My

Æsculapius.

Son's a special good Physitian,
My Sister playes the Midwife's part,
And thou a famous Wrestler art.
Are these two good for nought do'st think,
But only for to eat, and drink?

Merc.
O yes I promise ye, their Stars
Propitious are to Mariners,
And save 'um oft, when to ones thinking
They even are as good as sinking.

200

Apollo.
A charitable good vocation;
I wish them nigh when I've occasion.
Good Sea-men, say'st thou (Merc'ry) marry,
A Calling very necessary,
And will (no doubt) when men are Sea-sick,
Do 'um more good by half than Physick.

201

EPILOGUE.

And now (my Masters) rest you merry,
I doubt both you and I are weary,
Else I should very much admire;
Such trumpery a Dogg would tire.
Yet in the precious Age we live in,
Most people are so lewdly given,
Course Hempen trash is sooner read,
Than Poems of a finer thread.
Which made our Author wisely choose
To dizen up his dirty Muse
In such an odd fantastick weed,
As ev'ry one he knew would read.
Yet is he wise enough to know
His Muse however sings too low,
(Though warbling in the newest fashion)
To work a work of Reformation,
And so writ this (to tell you true)
To please himself as well as you.

202

Yet if (beyond his expectation)
This shall be grac't with acceptation,
Like others much of the same fashion,
Which all have had your approbation;
The Rhymer will so kindly take it,
That he his Bus'ness then will make it
No more thus sawcily to scoff ye,
But something bring more worthy of ye.
In the mean time he bids me say,
If you'l not hiss this Puppet-play,
He'l do what ne're was done by any,
And raise the

Lucian's Dialogues of the dead,

dead to entertain ye.

FINIS.