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
Jupiter and Sol,
J.Why thou unlucky sensless fool,
Thou Dunce, thou Loggerhead, thou Owl!
Th'ast made fine work here, hast thou not?
To go and trust thy Chariot
With a young giddy hair-brain'd Sot,
Who, unto thy eternal shame,
One half o'th' world has set on flame;
And (which to think on't makes me shudder)
So hard has frozen up the other,
That if I had not knock't him down
With a good rap upon his crown,
And turn'd him topsie-turvy under,
With a good rattling clap of Thunder,
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He had destroy'd all Creatures living,
And all mankind, had he on posted,
Had either frozen been, or roasted,
And then you'd made (I hope you'l grant)
A pretty piece of bus'ness on't.
Sol.
Oh Jupiter, I guilty am,
Yea, inexcusably too blame,
And without mercy am undone
For my indulgence to a Son,
I could not for my heart deny.
And then to see a Mistress cry,
And tears run trickling down her face,
Would e'en have mov'd a heart of brass.
'Twas that that did my Reason charm,
But (as I'me here) I thought no harm.
Jup.
No harm! how dar'st thou tell me so!
Did'st not thy Horses fury know?
What hast thou been my Charioteer
So many hundred thousand year;
Yet that thou know'st not, now can'st swear,
What fiery head strong Jades they were?
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How hard to rule they were, and rough,
And that they would do more than trot,
If bridle once in teeth they got;
And that if once they got a foot,
Much more a wheel out of the Rut,
All would be lost; you knew all this,
And yet for your Lyndabrides,
To humor her (forsooth) you must
Like a damn'd Rogue betray your trust,
Endanger all the world, and set
A Novice in that dang'rous seat,
Who to drive Topps was fitter far,
Than guide the Day's triumphant Carr.
Sol.
I must confess (as your Grace sayes)
I knew the Jades were Runawayes,
And therefore did the wilful Ass
With my own hands i'th' Coach-box place,
Taught him the Reins to draw, and slip,
And shew'd him how to hold his whip,
Taught him the right Poppysma too,
Which both the Horses full well knew,
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No one instruction I omitted
That I conceiv'd was necessary.
Assur'd then he could not miscarry,
I left him to himself, and bid him
Touchez monfils, and so good speed him.
He crack't his whip o're the mad Cattle
The Chariot wheels began to rattle,
And through the Eastern-gate they run:
But my fool-hardy, aukward Son,
So ill (wo worth the time I got him)
Retain'd the Lessons I had taught him,
That he had scarce, it should appear,
A furlong got in his Cariere,
When th'Stallions, with the flaming Mains,
Finding by slackness of the Reins
They'd got another Charioteer,
Away they strain'd in wild Cariere,
And left the Road, which had they kept,
Although the wind they had out-stript
In speed, yet running the right way,
'Twould but have made a shorter day:
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And dizzy at the fearful sight
Of the Abyss he saw below him,
Both Whip and Reins he streight cast fro him,
And by the Coach-box held him fast,
'Till thou in wrath gav'st him his last.
So for his temerarious action
My Boy has paid full satisfaction,
And in his loss I think that I
Too punish't am sufficiently.
Jup.
He, I confess, has had his payment,
But thou who wert the most too blame in't,
Deserv'st at least to be strappado'd,
Nay, stead alive, and carbonado'd.
But I to mercy encline rather,
And pardon an indulgent Father,
On this condition (nevertheless)
Thou never so again transgress.
For if thou do'st (thou Rascal thou)
I'le make thee both to feel, and know,
That this same Thunder which I handle,
Is hotter than your farthing Candle.
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Because I see thou art so sorry,
I will that Phaetons Sisters go
Enterr him on the Banks of Po,
Just where he fell, and for their Guerdon,
I'le do a thing was never heard on:
Transform 'um into Poplars all,
From whom a certain Gum shall fall,
To imitate the tears they shed
Over the hair-brain'd Logger-head.
As to the rest it fits thy care
Thy broken Waggon to repair,
Which will require rightly to do it,
A Carpenter, and Wheel-wright to it.
For first the Carriage is broken,
And one o'th' Wheels has ne're a spoke on,
The Harness too so much amiss is,
'Tis torn in twenty thousand pieces.
But as to that I to befriend thee,
A special Cobler streight will send thee,
And when th'ast got thy tackle mended,
Begin a new where thy Son ended.
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The Jades no doubt will frisk and kick,
As they were new again to break,
And may endanger too thy neck,
I promise ye I mainly doubt ye,
And therefore (Sirrah) look about ye.
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