University of Virginia Library

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.