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.
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
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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.
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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,
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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.
99
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.
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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.
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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.
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