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] |
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DIALOGUE.
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 | Burlesque upon Burlesque |  |
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?
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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?
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(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;
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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