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] |
 |
DIALOGUE.
|
 | Burlesque upon Burlesque |  |
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
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
(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
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
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.
| Burlesque upon Burlesque | |