University of Virginia Library

THE DIALOGUES OF THE GODS.

Prometheus and Jupiter.

Pro.
Oh, Jupiter! I'me glad to see thee;
And now th'art here, take pity prethee
Upon a poor old Cinque and Quater,
Has paid for playing the Creator.
In truth I've suffer'd out of reason,
And eke withal so long a season,
That if thou would'st be good condition'd,
Thou'dst think that it were e'en sufficient
For a far greater Fault than mine is,
And to my torments put a Finis.
Never was Man tormented thus!
Hang me if this same Caucasus
Be not the coldest Habitation
I think in all the whole Creation;
And 'twixt the Vulture, and the weather,
The Cold, the Kite, or both together;
Although I do not eat a jot,
(Saving thy presence) I have got
So damn'd a griping in my Guts,
That, as I'de surfeited of Nuts,
I've thirty stools a day at least;
Then prethee let me be releast,
For I have purg'd so wondrous sore,
That truly I can do no more.

Jupit.
Who, I release thee, that's a good one!
Release a Rogue, release a pudden.
I would thou could'st perswade me to it:
For what I prethee should I do it?
For which of the fine prancks th'ast plaid?
The pretty Fellows thou hast made,
Have caus'd such mischief 'mongst the Gods,
That we e're since have been at odds.
Or, for thy filching fire from Heaven
To animate the uncouth Leaven;
Or, which of Crimes is not the least,
Cheating thy Master at a Feast.
When, like a sawcy ill-bred waiter,
Thou for thy self the flesh could'st Cater,
And trayt'rously, and for the nones,
Mad'st me thy Dogg to pick thy Bones?
For which, Sir Sawce-box, dost thou see,
Since thou'lt make Men, I'le unmake thee,
And I have hung your Worship there
In this convenient nipping Air,
As I conceiv'd it did require
To cool thee after stealing fire:
And as to those thy Belly-gripes,
Know Rogue my Vulture loves fat Tripes,
And I will feed him upon thine,
Because thou once defeated'st mine.

Promet.
But for these faults, and for a score
Greater than these, nay twenty more,
Have I not suffer'd full enough?
For though my Hide be well and tough,
Thou know'st it is not made of Buff,
And neither Frost, nor Vulture proof.
Besides this Vulture, by this light,
Is the plain Devil of a Kite:
His hooked black desormed beak
I think through Mars his shield would peck;
His feet, wherewith my sides he tickles,
Have Talons more like Scyths than Sickles;
When he's in's place high in the Air,
He seems as bigg as Cossioare,
Where sometime lying on his wings,
After a few preparing rings,
He makes his stoop, and down he comes,
(Whilst fear my very heart benums)
With such a whirlwind and a powder,
That though thy Thunder may be lowder,
Thy Lightning is not half so quick;
Nor does it make one half so sick,
And gives my Liver such a thump,
That the blow ecchoes at my rump.
Then fastning in my Ribs his pounces,
He tears my Stomach out by ounces;
Preys on my Liver, Lights, and Lungs,
And in my Paunch his beak bedungs.
So that but even Yesternight,
Coming to take his supping flight,
As in my bowels he was tugging,
He lights upon a Master-pudding,
Which as he pull'd still, still did follow
So much more fast, than he could swallow,
That had I not (upon my word)
Because I know thou lov'st the Bird,
With my teeth caught him by the Train,
Hee'd ne're on Carrion prey'd again.
Therefore if all the miseries
I have endur'd will not suffice;
Yet let this one good office do't,
And ease me at my humble suit.

Jup.
Were th'pains, whereof thou dost complain,
As many and as great again:
Yet were they not the hundred part
Of what is justly thy desert.
Thou should'st by Caucasus, thou Scab,
Be crush't as flat as Verjuyce Crab,
And not be only ty'de unto it,
To choak a Spar-hawk with thy Suet.
Nay, thou art such a Malefactor,
And in all ills so vile an Actor,
As should not only have thy Liver
Prey'd on by twenty Kites together;
But yet moreover have thine eyes
Pick't out to pay thy treacheries,
And even thy felonious heart,
Had'st thou but half of thy desert.

Pro.
Well, thou may'st follow thine own will,
And if thou wilt torment me still:
But if thou would'st but be contented
To pardon me, thou'dst ne're repent it:
For I shall such a caution give thee,
Will make thee glad thou did'st reprieve me.

Jup.
What? I perceive now thou would'st fain
Be loose to gull me once again.

Promet.
Prethee by that what should I get?
Can'st thou Mount Caucasus forget?
Or if there yet were no such place,
Hast thou nor thousand other wayes,
Whose pow'rs so uncontroul'd and ample,
To make me a most sad example?

Jupit.
Come, come, I cannot stay to prattle,
Nor hear thy idle tittle tattle.
What (for no more thou now shalt dorre me)
If I release thee wilt do for me?
Come leave thy wheedling, and thy cogging,
And tell me, for I must be jogging.

Pro.
Wilt thou not take it Jove in dudging,
If I now tell thee where th'art trudging;
And wilt thou henceforth now believe me,
And in thy heart that credit give me,
If I tell truth unto a tittle,
That I can prophesie a little?

Jupit.
What else?

Promet.
Why then, to cure thy itching,
Jove, thou now going art a bitching,
And so immoderate thy heat is
As none can quench but Nereide Thetis.

Jupit.
Well if I should play such a feat,
What Issue shall we two beget?

Promet.
What Issue, marry out upon her!
By no means meddle with that Spawner:
For if thou dost, I'le tell thee what,
A graceless Child will be begot
Betwixt thee and that blew-ey'd Slattern,
Will depose thee as thou did'st Saturn:
At least so threat the Destinies:
And therefore if thou wilt be wise,
Let her alone, and come not at her,
But elsewhere lead thy Nagg to water.

Jup.
Well since th'ast hit the nayl o'th head,
I'le once by thy advice be led,
And for thy counsels recompence,
Vulcan shall come and loose thee hence.
For all past faults I quit thee clear.

Promet.
Why then I thank thee Jupiter.