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.
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
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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)
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'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,
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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
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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.
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