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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DIALOGUE.
Apollo and Mercury.
Apol.Why how now (Signior Mercury)
Y'are wonderfully rapt I see!
What is it makes your Worship pray
So merry about the mouth to day?
Merc.
Why, to see that that I have seen
Would make a Dog to break his spleen;
A sight (Apollo) that would make
Thy heart-strings too with laughing crack.
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Govern thy mirth awhile, at least
So long that I may hear the jeast;
So long that braying laughter spare,
That I in turn may laugh my share.
Merc.
Why our brave Cavaliero Mars
(For laughing I can tell thee scarce,
The Jeast so pretty, and so odd is)
Is napping tane with Beauty's Goddess.
Apollo.
How tane! I prethee now be plainer,
When, doing what, after what manner?
Merc.
Just now, whilst Smug was Oxen shooing,
And (in plain terms) at down-right doing,
The manner thus: you are to know—
Oh I could dye with laughing now!
Apollo.
Thou tittring Calf I prethee cease,
And either speak, or hold thy peace.
Mer.
Why then be it known to all good-fellows,
That Vulcan having long been Jealous
Of an intrigue 'twixt his fair Bride
And this same huffing Iron-side,
It having held on many a year;
The smoaky Lymps did more than fear
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Stuck a Bull's-feather in his Cap:
Which long has made him eye, and watch him,
Hoping to find a time to catch him.
He to this purpose then had set
About his Bed so rare a Net,
Made of so small, but holding Wire,
(Wherein his art we all admire)
As without very special heed,
Was hardly to be seen indeed;
Which having unperceived laid,
He careless went about his Trade:
But scarcely was he gone an Acre,
When in slips Captain Cuckold-maker,
And whips me into Bed to's wife,
Where whilst she whistled on the Fife,
He beat (Oh never such a Drum!)
A point of War upon her Bum.
Now as they thus, with pleasing labour,
Did jump and jigg to Pipe, and Tabour,
Playing in consort, and time keeping:
The Sun, who ever must be peeping,
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Thorough the Glass had luck to spy 'um,
Which having done, away he goes;
And, out of Envy, I suppose
(Of that methinks it rankly favours)
Tells me lame Vulcan streight, that Mavors
Whilst he at work did sweat and swelter,
Was thundring Venus, Helter-skelter.
At which the God with smutty face,
Starting, as if to run a Race,
Throws down his Tools, sans more ado,
And tript it with his Patten-shoo
So nimbly, that to (make it short)
He come's i'th' middle of their sport,
And like a cunning old Trapanner,
Took the poor Lovers in the manner,
And there, as one would take a Lark,
Trap't the fair Madam and her Spark.
Venus confounded, you must think,
Chop't down her hand to hide her Chink.
Mars tardy-tane, at first did fret,
Struggled, and flutter'd in the Net;
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Thinking by force to make his way:
When finding 'twas beyond his stress,
He e'en was fain to acquiesce,
(For striving made him but more fast);
And to entreaties fell at last.
But fair words Vulcan little heeded:
He then to menaces proceeded,
Making a kind of mixt Oration,
Half Kill, and Slay, half Supplication.
Apollo.
'Tis very pleasant faith! and so
Vulcan (I warrant) let him go.
Merc.
So far from that, that without shame,
Civil regard to his Wives Fame,
Or any sense on's own disgrace,
He all the Gods unto the place
Very judiciously has brought,
To shew them what fine fish h'as caught;
Where now they are, and all become
Spectators of his Cuckoldome.
In the mean time the loving pair,
Seeing themselves thus caught i'th' Snare,
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(For want of other covering)
In bashful blushes do express
They fain would hide their nakedness.
Apollo.
But all this while is dirty-face
So stupid, and so damn'd an Ass,
As not to blush in such a case,
At publishing his own disgrace?
Merc.
Who he? why he of all the rest;
Is the most ravish't with the Jest,
And blushes no where does disclose,
But where he alwayes does in's Nose:
Yet, though the sight be but unseemly,
I envy this same Mars extreamly:
To be surpriz'd in Bed with her,
Who is of Goddesses the Star,
With whom no other can compare,
For sweetly excellently fair;
Believ't Apollo is most rare!
And then to be ty'd to her too,
With Bonds that no one can undo;
To her I say, than fairest fairer,
O that's more ravishing and rarer!
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Thou speak'st so feelingly, I wis,
With such a tickling Emphasis,
As th'adst a mind to have it thought,
Thou would'st thy self be fain so caught.
Merc.
Marry, who doubts it: I, or else
Would I had Clapper lost and Bells.
Do but go with me now, and see
Beauty in her Captivity;
And if thou bee'st not of my mind,
I then (my friend) shall be inclin'd,
Or to suspect that there may be
Something in't of frigidity;
Or wonder that thy continence,
Beholding so much excellence,
Should be so constant, and so great,
Which rare is in a Carrot-pate.
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