LUCIAN   
London. Printed for Henry Brome.   

Burlesque upon Burlesque: OR, THE Scoffer Scoffed. Being some of LUCIAN'S DIALOGUES Newly put into ENGLISH FUSTIAN. For the Consolation of those who had rather Laugh and be Merry, then be Merry and Wise.  
LONDON, Printed for Henry Brome at the Sign of the Gun at the West-end of St. Paul's Churchyard. 1675.   


Prologue.  

GEntles behold a Rural Muse  
In homespun Robes, and clouted shoes,  
Presents you old, but new translated News.   

We in the Country do not scorn  
Our Walls with Ballads to adorn  
Of patient grizel, and the Lord of Lorne.   

Old Tales, old Songs, and an old Jest,  
Our stomaches easiliest digest;  
And of all Plays Hieronimo's the best.   

We bring you hear a Fustian piece,  
Writ by a merry Wagg of Greece,  
Which yet the learned says not much amiss.   

And if against stile Except you shall,  
We must acquaint you once for all,  
'Tis but Burlesque in the Original.   

The Subject is without offence,  
Do but some smutty words dispense,  
we'll make amends with Rhyme, if not with Sense.   

Besides you must not take a Picque,  
If he sometimes speak plain, and gleek,  
Without that Licence he could be no Greek.   

But we ourselves so hate prophaners,  
And all corrupters of good manners,  
he's qualified for all entertainers,   

And is so well reformed from riot,  
His Book is made so wholesome diet,  
Virgins and Boys can run no danger by it.   

But why a Prologue, you will say,  
To what nor is nor's like a Play?  
That I expect you in my dish should lay.   

Why though this Antic new-vaumped Wit,  
With no such vain design was writ,  
That it should either Gallery, Box, or Pit:   

Yet my renowned Author says,  
These Scenes with those may pass for Plays  
Were writ i'th' Duchess of—— days.   

But she is gone (I speak it quaking,  
The sleeping Lioness for waking)  
To write in a new world of her own making.   

And now that she has shot the Pit,  
You even must contented sit,  
And take such homely fare as you can get.   

For this, the Rymer says that penned it,  
For a fine piece 'twas intended,  
Since in a Month 'twas both begun, and ended.   

Some favour he expects therefore,  
And does your mercies (Sirs) implore,  
On one that never troubled you before.   

But yet he bid me e'er I went hence  
To tell you, that what ever's your Sentence,  
It shall not cost him half an hours repentance.     

PROMETHEUS, OR, CAUCASUS.  

THE Author (who no doubt had wit)  
This piece of Raillery then writ  
When Paganism was in fashion:  
By this ridiculous narration  
To beat into the brains o'th' rude  
And loggerheaded multitude,  
That what the wanton Poets feign  
Of one Prometheus is vain,  
And fit to be (here be it said)  
By none but Coxcombs credited.  
Wherein his meaning further is  
To take away th' Authorities  
Of Lies, and Fables, which did Pigeon  
The Rabble into false Religion.  
Which also was his drift ('tis odds)  
In th' other Dialogues o'th' Gods,  
Of which this here placed first of all  
Seems to be Captain General.    

DIALOGUE.  
Vulcan, Mercury, and Prometheus.  Merc. 
SO now to Caucasus weare got,  
Come Vulcan, let us look about  
For some good Rock, where we may fall  
To nailing fast the Criminal.  
'Tis more than time that we had done it:  
But let's choose one has no Snow on it,  
That of both Manacle and Gieve  
The Nails we to the head may drive.  
And one that also on each side  
Does open lie to be descried,  
That Passengers may be aware on't,  
And the Rogue's shame the more apparent.  Vulcan. 
Content, but we must nail him so,  
That he may neither hang so low,  
That Mortals soon as they shall spy him  
May presently come and untie him;  
Nor must we fasten him so high,  
As to be out of reach of eye,  
The torment than would be unknown,  
That's meant an exemplary one.  
Therefore be ruled by my advice,  
we'll hang him on this Precipice  
I'th' middle of the Mountain there,  
Chaining one hand to this Rock here,  
Tother to that that's opposite,  
And there he will hang fair in sight,  
Where friend and foe at ease may view him,  
But the grand Devil can't get to him.  Mercury. 
I like thy Reasons wondrous well,  
They both are inaccessible.  
Come (Sir Prometheus) if you please,  
And mount a step for your own ease;  
Nay, never hang an Arse for th' matter,  
It is in vain to cog and flatter:  
Come on I say, and ne'er draw back for't,  
Or those large lugs of yours will crack for't;  
Why when I say! come mount apace  
And hang man with a handsome grace.  Promet. 
Hale me not prithee on this fashion:  
But take some small commiseration  
Upon a pavore Diable,  
Unjustly made thus miserable.  Merc. 
What! I believe thou art so kind  
(Thou bearest a very loving mind)  
To have us trussed up in thy room  
For disobeying great Jove's Doom!  
Dost think this Caucasus to be  
Too little to hold all us Three;  
Or would it comfort be to thee  
T'have fellows in thy misery!  
Your Servant Sir, we thank you kindly,  
And in return we mean to bind ye,  
Where any friend you have may find ye.  
Come (Sir) your right hand; Vulcan drive:  
Well driven as I hope to live!  
Such things I see thou hast an art in,  
That hand I warrant's fast for starting.  
Come (Sir) your left; here strike again,  
And drive this home with might and main.  
Ha! ha! old smutty face, well said,  
thoust hit the nail (I faith) o'th' head.  
Here, here, now take me this right leg,  
And drive me here another pegg.  
Well said! here make me this fast too,  
And then there is no more to do.  
'Slid, thou hast done it to a hair:  
So, now (Sir) you may take the Air,  
And may contemplate all alone;  
The Vulture will come down anon  
To pray upon your Entrails Don,  
A recompense a worthy one,  
For your most fine invention.  Promet. 
O gentle mother Earth that bore me,  
And in thy throes didst loud groan for me!  
Thou Saturn and Japetus too,  
Alas the day, what shall I do.  
What! must I undergo this wo-thing,  
And suffer thus for doing nothing.  Merc. 
No, call'st it nothing (wicked Beast)  
To cheat great Jove at a great Feast!  
To give him bones (a trick that new is)  
Smeared over with a little Brews,  
And keep the best o'th' meat (forsooth)  
For your own Worships dainty tooth!  
Besides, I wonder much (Wiseacre)  
Who 'twas that made you a Man-maker,  
That subtle crafty Animal!  
And Woman too the worst of all!  
And then to steal the fire from Heaven  
Which only to the Gods was given,  
And that they prise above all measure  
Much more than all their other treasure!  
After all which had thou a face  
So varnished, nay so vaumped with brass;  
Or rather steeled with impudence,  
To preach to us thy innocence!  
And to complain thou hast wrong done thee!  
Thou wicked Rogue, now out upon thee!  Promet. 
Hast thou the stony heart to rate  
And use me thus in this estate?  
And to reproach me for things here,  
For which, by all the Gods I swear,  
And all of them to witness call,  
That dine and sup in Jove's fair Hall,  
I deserve, rather than this Doom,  
A pension i'th' 
* The Exchequer of Athens.  Prytoneum.  
And if thou wouldst but give me leisure,  
In sadness, I could take a pleasure  
(For all I know, thou much dost glory  
In thy renowned Oratory)  
Now with thee to dispute the case,  
And argued with thee face to face:  
To bafflle in thy person here  
Thy mighty Master Jupiter.  
Take then upon thee his defence  
With all thy mighty Eloquence,  
And make't appear that he has reason  
To chain me here this bitter season,  
In prospect of the Caspian-Ports  
To which the trading world resorts,  
To all these crowds of men to be  
A Spectacle of misery;  
Yea (and what's more) of horror, even  
To Scythians, to whom is given  
By all that have been hither 
* The Author means driven by necessity of Trading, as well as by the Winds.  driven,  
The name of bloodiest under Heaven.  Merc. 
Faith thy defence comes now too late;  
But if thou hast a mind to prate,  
we'll give thee hearing, and we may,  
For we are here enjoined to stay  
Until we see the 
* The Vulture.  Pigeon driver  
Come down to prey upon thy Liver.  
In the mean time we'll show our breeding,  
In our attention to thy pleading;  
Make use of time then, and be quick  
In pouring out thy Rhetoric,  
'Twill doubtless ravish; For I hear  
Thou art a mighty Sophister.  Promet. 
Nay, to speak first it is thy part,  
Because thou my Accuser art;  
And in so doing take heed, pray,  
You don't your Master's cause betray.  
Smug here shall stand by, and be mute,  
And be the Judge of our dispute.  Vulc. 
Who, I be Judge against my Father!  
Thy Peacher or thy Hangman rather,  
For having my own Forge bereaven  
Of heat, by stealing Fire from Heaven.  Promet. 
Why then I'll tell you what to do,  
Your Accusation's split in two,  

* Speaking to Vulcan.  Thou of the Theft to speak hadst best,  
And let him handle all the rest;  
Tother offences leave to him:  
And also it would ill beseem  
The God of Thiefs, in open Session  
To speak against his own profession.  Vulc. 
No, no, to meddle I am loath;  
Mercury here shall speak for's both;  
He is a Clerk of better reading:  
For my part I've no skill in pleading:  
He has been bred to't, I was ne'er  
Cut out to be a Barrister,  
My head too heavy was, and logger,  
Ever to make a Pettifogger.  
I'll ne'er deny it, I have more Art  
In clouting of a crazy Cart:  
But he by bawling, 'tis well known,  
Has gotten many a good half Crown;  
And by that Trade has got his living,  
For all thy talk, as well as Thieving.  Merc. 
It would require a tedious time,  
Piecemeal to handle every Crime,  
Of which thou lousy, mangy, filthy,  
Abominable Knave art guilty:  
Nor is't enough in running fashion,  
Barely to name each accusation:  
But since my Gentleman confesses,  
Nay glories in his wickednesses,  
My task by that so much the less is.  
And it great folly were to babble  
A great long tedious Ribble-Rabble  
Of Crimes would load a Councel-Table,  
And go about with grave Sentences  
To prove a Bead-roll of Offences,  
Of which, without being so strict,  
He is by his own mouth convict.  
And therefore I shall say but this,  
That undeniably it is  
The greatest injury can be  
To Jupiter's great Clemency,  
So often to relapse into  
Crimes (Sir) for which you full well knew,  
The Gallows were long since your due,  
And in defiance still of Heaven,  
To sin as often as forgiven,  Promet. 
A great Case in few words laid open,  
Learnedly has your Worship spoken,  
Good Master Sergeant, y'have undone  
The Lawyers every Mother's Son.  
'Tis pity but you had held on,  
It was so pithy an Oration:  
But now how wise your Accusation  
Is in the Substance, would be known,  
And that (Sir) we shall see anon.  
But since you think y'ave said enough,  
Without one syllable of proof,  
I'll enter into my defence  
To answer your great Eloquence.  
And first and foremost here I all  
The Gods in Heaven to witness call,  
It pities me to th' heart to see  
That the great Jupiter should be  
So out of humour, and so grum  
As to pronounce this heavy Doom,  
Not only on a man, but even  
A God who has a right in Heaven,  
One of the merry'st of Boon-blades,  
And one too of his old Comrades,  
Nay one that some time (much good do him)  
Has been full serviceable to him,  
And all this only for a Jest  
I put upon him at a Feast.  
But had I thought he'd been so lodden  
Of his baked, fried, boiled, roast, and sodden,  
I should (I am not such a Noddy)  
Have jested with some other Body.  
Thou knowst what liberty of jesting  
Every one takes when they are feasting,  
Where we throw Cushions, Chairs, and Stools,  
And none but Children, or mere fools  
Any thing ever do take ill,  
Let a man do what e'er he will:  
But evermore the better sort  
Turn all to raillery and sport.  
But for one, of the state he is,  
To let such a poor thing as this  
(Scarcely the shadow of a wrong)  
Lie festering in his heart so long,  
And to this damnable degree  
To wreak his Anger as you see,  
In my poor judgement is a part  
So much below the generous heart  
Not only of a God to do,  
And of all Gods the Sovereign too:  
But even of a Gentleman,  
A civil, and a well-bred man:  
For if such honest Liberties,  
Such pastimes, and such tricks as these  
Must banished be from merry meetings;  
I fain would know what at such sit  
There will be left to do, but fill  
One's Guts like bruits, to munch and swill,  
Which is unfit (if I am able  
To judge) of any civil Table.  
I did not then, I swear, imagine  
He would have taken't in such dudgeon;  
Or that he'd had so little wit,  
As the next day to think of it;  
Much less he would have been so cankered,  
So false a Brother of the Tankard,  
As to have plagued me in this sort  
For what I only did in sport.  
What? if in play, I made one Mess  
Than others something worse and less,  
And offered 'em to his refusing,  
Only to try his wit in choosing?  
Was that so heinous an offence,  
He must bear malice ever since,  
And nourish such a damned malignity,  
As if the uttermost indignity,  
Both to his Person, and his Crown,  
I offered had that e'er was known?  
But come now, at the worst let's take it,  
And make't as ill, as ill can make it;  
Suppose then, more than though didst at first,  
Not only that his share was worst;  
But that he'd had no part at all;  
Must he for this make all this brawl,  
And must he (as th' old saying is)  
For such a trivial toy as this  
A thing indeed not worth a feather)  
Shuffle both Heaven and Earth together;  
And of one meal for the great losses,  
Of nothing talk but Stocks, and Crosses,  
Wracks, Gibbets, and these new devices  
Of Vultures, Rocks, and Precipices!  
Let him take heed, when this is bruited,  
That this proceeding been't imputed  
To an unworthiness of Spirit:  
I promise you I greatly fear it.  
For a great thing, I fain would know,  
What would this Thunderer stick to do,  
Who makes this strange unheard of clutter  
For losing of his bread and butter?  
How many men would scorn this odd,  
This strange proceeding of a God  
Does any History relate,  
That ever man of any state,  
So greedy was, or passionate,  
To make, or put his Cook away  
For licking of his fingers pray?  
Or if a Tripe, or so, he rifles,  
One ne'er regards such petty Trifles;  
Or if one do chastise him for it,  
'Tis only with a kick, or whirret:  
But for so small a Peccadill  
To send a man up Holborn-hill:  
An act is of an odious dye,  
And an unheard of cruelty!  
Thus much to say, I've ta'en occasion,  
To th' first point of my accusation;  
Wherein so pitiful's the matter  
Which does my innocence bespatter,  
That (though I do not often use it)  
I almost blushed but to excuse it;  
They then may sure blush well enough  
Who charge me with such wretched stuff.  
Let's now to the next Charge proceed,  
And that's a heinous one indeed,  
The Making man; wherein I am  
To seek against what you would declaim:  
Whether the thing a Crime you call  
Consist in making man at all;  
Or that it only is the fashion  
That wants your worship's approbation?  
But we'll examine both, that's fair;  
And to the first I do declare,  
The Gods so far from losing are,  
Any thing by this new Creation,  
That (if they would be folks of fashion,  
And with their Neighbours would be quiet)  
They're infinitely gainers by it.  
And (though they will be so outrageous)  
For them 'tis much more advantageous,  
That there be men, though they be evil,  
Deformed, and wicked as the Devil,  
And good, or bad, or low, or tall,  
Then that there should be none at all.  
And (back into past time to go)  
In the beginning you must know,  
The world, which now no Tenants wants,  
Save Gods, had no Inhabitants.  
At which good time the Earth (alas!)  
Naught but a vast wild Desert was,  
All over grown with Trees, and Bushes,  
Mansions for Blackbirds, Jays, and Thrushes,  
Where there nor riding was, nor walking,  
Good store of Game, but no good Hawking,  
Where Herds of Deer did graze, and fill 'em,  
But no body to hunt and kill 'um.  
For, whence (Sir Mercury) by your leave,  
Do you in your wise head conceive,  
Come all those goodly well-tilled fields,  
That so good Wheat and Barley yield;  
Whence these fine Gardens with their flowers,  
These Temples with their stately Towers,  
Of Altars all this mighty store,  
And Statues which the world adore,  
And several things that I could mention;  
But from man's labour, and invention.  
Therefore as I who from a Groom  
No bigger than a Miller's Thumb,  
Have still been taking daily pains,  
And cudgelling about my brains  
To find inventions out that should  
Conduce unto the public good,  
Was musing after my old rate,  
And meditating this and that,  
An old Diogenes in Tub-like  
For something useful to the public:  
As Poets sing, without delay  
I took some water, and some clay,  
And tempering them together 
* Betwixt his finger and his thumb.  thus,  
Even made a Man like one of us.  
Wherein Minerva was an Actress,  
(I'll not conceal my Benefactress)  
And this is all, as I am civil,  
That I committed have of Evil.  
A mighty matter (without doubt)  
For Jove to keep this stir about!  
But what complain the Gods of trow?  
What is it that offend them so!  
Do not my Creatures them adore?  
Are they less Gods now, than before  
I undertook this Puppets trade,  
And Male and Female Babies made?  
For but to see how Jupiter  
Does fret, and fume, and stamp, and stare,  
Threaten, and huff, and swear, and swagger,  
And clap his hand on dudgeon Dagger,  
A man would think that he had lost  
The half of his Estate almost,  
At least his Grandfather's Seal'd-ring,  
Or some most dear beloved thing.  
What? is his Majesty afraid  
Those dapper fellows I have made,  
Against his power should rant and roar,  
As did the Giants heretofore!  
Or if they should turn Mutineers,  
(Which yet they dare not for their ears)  
Is he who could the Sons of Titan  
(For all their huffing) make be— 'em,  
Much more reduce them all to reason,  
Grown feebler now, then at that season?  
The Gods then by my fine device  
Sustain no kind of prejudice.  
But to show forth, and make it plain  
That they by my invention gain,  
Do but behold the Earth, which was  
In former days a barren place,  
With Thorns and Brambles overspread:  
But now improved, and husbanded,  
Affording things innumerable  
To clothe man's back, and store his Table.  
For of itself it nought produces  
But Crabs, and Fruits of sour Juices.  
Nay, even the Sea is, in some fashion,  
Appeased, and tamed by Navigation.  
The Islands are inhabited,  
The World's round face with Cities spread,  
Where men do Sacrifice, and pray  
On many a merry Holiday.  
In short (as the small Poet says)  
Temples, Towns, Streets, nay the Highways,  
(As oft as people travel there)  
Are all brimful of Jupiter.  
Again, if one could make a story,  
That I had aimed at my own glory  
In doing this, it something were;  
But it does contrary appear:  
For amongst so many Fanes that rise  
To such a Crew of Deities,  
Of any one didst hear't related  
Unto Prometheus dedicated?  
Which does sufficiently declare,  
That I my one particular  
Honour, and Interest have neglected,  
And but the Public nought respected.  
Consider further (Mercury)  
That what we call felicity  
Without a witness looking on,  
Can be but an imperfect one,  
And that if Mortals there were none  
To see this great Creation,  
The World would be but a dead Mass,  
And our advantages much less  
(Though the strange Fabric well require it)  
In having no one to admire it.  
Again, as things to us are known  
But only by Comparison;  
So if unhappy men were none,  
Our happiness would be unknown;  
And for such benefits as these,  
In stead of giving me large Fees,  
At least great honour for reward,  
You crucify me, which goes hard,  
That smart unto my feeling Sense  
Must be my Virtue's recompense.  
But what! there are Adulterers,  
Murderers, Robbers, Ravishers,  
Perhaps you'll argue amongst men:  
Why, if there are, I pray what then?  
Are there not amongst us the same,  
As void of honesty and shame;  
And yet for this we done't condemn  
The Heaven and Earth that nourished them.  
But you will add perhaps this more,  
That we've more trouble than before,  
And are put to't to find supplies  
For many more necessities:  
Who ever heard, I know would fain,  
A Shepherd of his Flock complain  
For fruitfulness, though they eaned double,  
Because they helped him to more trouble?  
If painful 'tis, 'tis profitable,  
Nay pleasant too, and honourable;  
And this advantage brings with't too,  
It finds us something still to do;  
Whereas we otherwise should go  
With hands in pockets every day,  
And nothing have to do but play;  
Or swill and guttle every day  
With Nectar and Ambrosia.  
But that at which most vexed I am,  
Is to hear those the most exclaim  
Of men, who least can be without 'em,  
And if they women meet do rout 'em,  
For the fine knacks they wear about 'um.  
And, though they keep this mighty pother,  
Do love them more than any other.  
Nay, and each day to thousand shapes  
Transform themselves to act their Rapes,  
And not contented (as they say)  
To take a snatch, and so away:  
But that they may stick longer to't,  
Even make them Goddesses to boot.  
But some may say, that I had reason,  
And that Man-making was no treason,  
Only it should not have been thus,  
To make him like to one of us.  
And could I in ingenuous Noddle  
Have chosen out a fitter Model  
Whereby my art might be expressed,  
Than what I knew was perfectest?  
Had I begun my making Trade  
With four-legged Beasts, and Brutes had made,  
Perhaps it would have been no sin,  
And I no Criminal had been:  
But from such Creatures of mere sense,  
Devoid of all intelligence,  
With faces prone, and looks dejected,  
What service could you have expected?  
The Gods had been without dispute  
Most rarely worshipped by a Brute:  
A great Bull would have been, I fear,  
But an obstreperous worshipper,  
And bellowing Prayers I'm afraid,  
Great Jupiter would have dismayed.  
An Ass, or Horse, in senseless wise  
Would bray, or whinny Liturgies.  
To hear (Sir Merc'ry) it would fear ye,  
A Wolf bawl out a miserere,  
And t'hear a Lion, worse than that,  
Roaring out a Magnificat.  
Come, come (my Masters) say I must,  
That you are horribly unjust.  
You stick not far as Egypt room  
Only to snuff a Hecatomb,  
And him the cause, your malice dooms  
You Altars have and Hecatombs.  
But come enough of this! Let's on  
To my last Accusation;  
The stealing fire: and first have I  
Impoverished any Deity  
By having given it to men?  
Or have you now less fire, than when  
I had therewith inspired no Creature?  
And is it not the proper nature  
Of that warm Element to dart  
Its rays and heat to every part,  
And yet still to continue fire,  
Keeping its virtue still entire?  
Then what a vain Objection's this,  
A poor fetch, and a mere Caprice,  
Below, and unbefitting all  
The Poet's Benefactors call!  
Besides, had I purloined, even  
To the last spark of fire in Heaven,  
I had not wronged the Gods a bit:  
They boil no Pot, nor turn no Spit;  
For your Ambrosia does not need  
To be or hash't, or fricasseed.  
A Cook may there forget his Trade,  
Where nor Pottage, nor Olia's made:  
Whereas poor men, contrary wise,  
Want it for their necessities,  
If for no other use at all  
But t'Sacrifice to you withal.  
Do you not love to smell the Roast  
Of a good Rammish Holocaust?  
So that 'tis plain (for all pretences)  
You speak against your Consciences.  
I wonder (hang me if I don't)  
Since this is such a great affront,  
And of your fire since y'are so wary;  
You han't forbid Don Luminary  
T'impart his Light, which is, I'm sure,  
A fire more glorious, and more pure,  
And that t'o'erthrow the use of Dial,  
You do not bring him to his Trial  
For having thus, without all measure,  
Profusely squandered out your Treasure,  
And like a treacherous Trust-breaker,  
Lewdly embezzeled your Exchequer.  
This is (you pair of Jove's Bumbayliffs,  
Or Hangmen rather) sum totalis  
Of what I'd for myself to say:  
If you confute me can, you may:  
But (for I ever loved plain dealing)  
(O Mercury, thou God stealing)  
To tell thee the plain truth o'th' story,  
'Tis past, I doubt, thy Oratory:  
But do me right, pledge and 'twere water,  
Reply although not much to th' matter.  Merc. 
It is not easy (I confess)  
To baffle such a plate of brass;  
For in my days I ne'er did hear  
So impudent a Sophister.  
And well's thou Jupiter's not near thee,  
Who, had he chanced to overhear thee,  
I confidently do assure thee  
Thou wouldst have so provoked his fury,  
By slandering him under pretence  
Of pleading in thy own defence,  
So vilely slandering him; that he  
For such a grand indignity,  
Would in his indignation,  
Have sent thee down, instead of one,  
A dozen Vultures of a feather  
To pray upon thy Lungs together.  
But tell me why thou being a Prophet,  
(For surely thou knewest nothing of it)  
Hadst not the knowledge to foresee  
The evil was to fall on thee?  Promet. 
Oh (Mercury) hold thee content:  
One may foresee, but not prevent.  
I did foresee it well enough;  
Of which to give thee further proof,  
Know that I likewise did foresee  
A 
* Hercules.  Theban should deliver me,  
One of thy old acquaintance, and  
A proper fellow of his hand,  
Who with a lusty Bolt and tiler  
Will come and be my Vulture's killer.  Merc. 
I wish he were already come,  
And that in Jove's great dining Room,  
We were with each one a good thwittle  
Again set down to swill, and victual,  
Provided (Signior) do you see,  
That you should not the Carver be,  
Especially (my Friend) for me.  Promet. 
Why thou wilt see me there again,  
Marry, I cannot just say when:  
But I will tell thee 'twixt us two,  
I shall so rare a service do  
For Jupiter, that for my labour  
He will restore me to his favour.  Merc. 
What service is it that so great is?  Pro. 
Thou knowst a Lass called Madam Thetis,  
A pretty little wanton Drab:  
But I a secret will not blab  
That is to purchase and advance  
My peace and my deliverance.  Merc. 
If it be so, thou dost full well,  
Yea, and full wisely not to tell:  
But Vulcan come, we must away,  
For yonder is the Bird of prey,  
I see him in a Kill-duck place,  
Ready to make a stoop; alas!  
Beware thy Liver now, I'm sorry  
(Prometheus) very sorry for ye,  
And wish thy Liberator were  
As ready, as the danger's near.   

THE DIALOGUES OF THE GOD'S.  
Prometheus and Jupiter.  Pro. 
OH, Jupiter! I'm glad to see thee;  
And now th'u'rt here, take pity prithee  
Upon a poor old Cinque and Quater,  
Has paid for playing the Creator.  
In truth I've suffered out of reason,  
And eke withal so long a season,  
That if thou wouldst be good conditioned,  
Thou'dst think that it were even 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 damned a griping in my Guts,  
That, as I'd surfeited of Nuts,  
I've thirty stools a day at least;  
Then prithee let me be released,  
For I have purged 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 couldst persuade me to it:  
For what I prithee should I do it?  
For which of the fine pranks thoust played?  
The pretty Fellows thou hast made,  
Have caused such mischief amongst the Gods,  
That we e'er 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 saucy illbred waiter,  
Thou for thyself the flesh couldst Cater,  
And trayt'rously, and for the nonce,  
Mad'st me thy Dog to pick thy Bones?  
For which, Sir Saucebox, dost thou see,  
Since thou'lt make Men, I'll unmake thee,  
And I have hung your Worship there  
In this convenient nipping Air,  
As I conceived 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 suffered full enough?  
For though my Hide be well and tough,  
Thou knowst 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 deformed 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 big 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 benumbs)  
With such a whirlwind and a powder,  
That though thy Thunder may be louder,  
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 echoes at my rump.  
Then fastening in my Ribs his pounces,  
He tears my Somach 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 pulled 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,  
he'd ne'er on Carrion preyed again.  
Therefore if all the miseries  
I have endured 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 shouldst by Caucasus, thou Scab,  
Be crushed as flat as Verjuice Crab,  
And not be only tied unto it,  
To choke a Sparhawk with thy Suet.  
Nay, thou art such a Malefactor,  
And in all ills so vile an Actor,  
As should not only have thy Liver  
Preyed on by twenty Kites together;  
But yet moreover have thine eyes  
Picked out to pay thy treacheries,  
And even thy felonious heart,  
Hadst 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 wouldst but be contented  
To pardon me, thou'dst ne'er repent it:  
For I shall such a caution give thee,  
Will make thee glad thou didst reprieve me.  Jup. 
What? I perceive now thou wouldst fain  
Be loose to gull me once again.  Promet. 
Prithee by that what should I get?  
Canst thou Mount Caucasus forget?  
Or if there yet were no such place,  
Hast thou not thousand other ways,  
Whose powers so uncontrolled 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 thouart 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 prophesy 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'll tell thee what,  
A graceless Child will be begot  
Betwixt thee and that blue-eyed Slattern,  
Will depose thee as thou didst 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 Nag to water.  Jup. 
Well since thoust hit the nail o'th' head,  
I'll once by thy advice be led,  
And for thy counsels recompense,  
Vulcan shall come and lose thee hence.  
For all pastfaults I quit thee clear.  Promet. 
Why then I thank thee Jupiter.   

DIALOGUE.  
Jupiter and Cupid.  Cupid. 
AH Jupiter, I prithee hear,  
For thine own sake good Jupiter,  
If I am guilty of a Crime,  
Do but forgive me this one time,  
And if I e'er do so again  
Then whip me till the blood do spin.  
What? will not Jove be reconciled,  
But still bear malice to a Child?  Jupit. 
A Child, thou little Rakehell thou!  
A pretty Child thou art I trow;  
Older than Japhet, little Hang-string,  
Though one might wear thee in his Bandstring.  
And then for art and subtlety,  
Prometheus is an Ass to thee.  Cupid. 
That Painter's best and Poets know,  
Who ever represent me so,  
And unto them I do refer it;  
Who, if they are put to't, will swear it:  
But were I what thou'dst have me be,  
What mischief have I done to thee,  
That ought t'engage thine indignation,  
To use me on this cruel fashion?  Jupit. 
What dost thou ask me, Nere-be-good?  
When thou hast so inflamed my blood,  
That as I Philters swallowed had,  
I every day run whynnying mad,  
For every woman that I see;  
And yet thou mak'st not one love me:  
So that each day to feed my Vices,  
I'm put to pump for new devices,  
And to put on a thousand shapes,  
The better to commit my Rapes.  Cupid. 
That is because the woman fear thee,  
And therefore tremble to come near thee.  Jupit. 
And yet the ill conditioned Toads  
Can love forsooth the other Gods,  
Apollo he can have his Joys  
Both with the Wenches and the Boys.  Cupid. 
The cause of that is quickly guessed,  
He's handsome, and goes sprucely dressed,  
And yet for all his powdered locks,  
His Songs and Sonnets, with a Pox,  
And that he goes so fine and trim,  
Daphne could never fancy him:  
Nor could he ere her liking move,  
So absolutely free is Love.  
But wouldst thou spend each day and hour  
In dressing, and not look so sour,  
Which (in plain truth) does mainly fright 'em;  
I make no question but thou'dst smite 'um.  
But than it will be requisite,  
If thou wilt turn a Carpet Knight;  
To lay those by all women dread,  
Thy Thunder and thy Gorgons-head.  Jup. 
What Rogue! wouldst have me to lay by  
The Ensigns of my Deity:  
That's pleasant counsel, faith, but yet  
I think I shall not follow it:  
No sirrah, I shall more prefer  
The Dignity of Jupiter.  Cupid. 
Then thou must women let alone.  Jupit. 
No, I shall wench still ten to one.  
And yet (for all thy haste) not bate  
One inch or tittle of my state.  
Howe'er, since thou so well hast prated,  
My anger is for once abated,  
And I forgive thee all old grudges.  Cupid. 
I'm glad I'm got out of his clutches.   

DIALOGUE.  
Mercury and Jupiter.  Jupit. 
DOst thou know Iô, Mercury?  Merc. 
Iô! yes surely, let me see,  
Oh, Inachus his pretty Daughter! (her;  Jup. 
The same, thou knowst I long have sought  
And now at last that I have caught her  
Dost think but Juno my cursed Froe,  
Has turned the Girl into a Cow,  
Out of pure Jealousy to cheat me,  
And of my pleasure to defeat me,  
And has delivered her to keep  
T'a Monster that does never sleep;  
But having eyes in every place,  
Even in his arse, as well as face,  
A hundred spread all o'er his parts,  
Both where he speaks, and where he farts;  
Whilst some of them a nap do take,  
Others are evermore awake:  
So that unless I had a spell  
To Bull my Cow invisible,  
I ne'er can think to take him napping,  
And from his sight there's no escaping:  
But thou I know a way canst tell  
To rid me of this Centinel;  
Thou wit and courage hast enough;  
Prithee now put them both to proof:  
Go then to the Nemean Grove,  
Where the soul Monster guards my love,  
And for my sake take so much pains,  
As fairly to knock out his brains.  
When having battered his thick skull,  
To Egypt drive my lovely Mull,  
Where they shall pay her Sacrifices  
Under th'adored name of Isis.  
There she shall sway the winds and waves,  
And be the Queen of Galley-slaves.  Merc. 
I go, and if I find him once,  
With my Battoon I'll bang his sconce  
So pretty well, as shall suffice  
To put out all his hundred eyes.   

DIALOGUE.  
Jupiter and Ganymede.  Jup. 
COme kiss me pretty little stranger,  
Now that we are got clear from dan-  
And that to please my pretty Boy, (her.  
I've laid my Beak and Talons by:  Ganim. 
What are become of them I trow!  
Thou hadst them on but even now.  
Didst thou not come where I did keep,  
Thinking no harm, my Father's Sheep,  
In Eagles shape, and with a swoop,  
Like a small Chicken, truss me up.  
And art thou now turned Man? this change  
Is very wonderfully strange,  
Sure thou art one of those same folk-as  
I've heard 'em call a Hocuspocus.  Jupit. 
No, my sweet Boy, thou tell'st a flame,  
Nor Eagle I, nor Juggler am:  
But Sovereign of the Gods, who have  
Transformed myself (my pretty Knave)  
Into these Man and Eagles shapes,  
To snap my little Jackanapes.  Ganim. 
Sure thou art our God Pan, and yet  
Thou hast no horns, nor cloven feet;  
Nor yet a Pipe that I do see,  
The marks of that great Deity.  Jupit. 
knowst thou no other Gods but he?  Ganim. 
No, but to him I know, that we  
Every year Sacrifice a Goat  
Before the Entry of his Grot:  
And as for thee (although with trembling)  
I tell thee plain, without dissembling,  
I judge thee for to be no better,  
Than that bad thing some call a Setter,  
Others a Spirit, that doth lie  
In wait to catch up Infantry,  
Who give them plums, and fine tales tell 'em,  
To steal them first, and after sell sell.  Jup. 
But, hark thee Child! didst never hear  
Of a great God called Jupiter?  
Didst never see upon a high-day  
An Altar dressed upon Mount Ida,  
Where folks come crowding far and near  
To offer to the Thunderer?  Ganim. 
What art thou he that makes the rattle  
I'th' air which frights both Men and Cattle,  
Sowers all the Milk, and doth so clatter,  
Both above ground, and under water,  
That men not dare to show their heads,  
Nor Eels lie quiet in their beds?  
If thou be that same Jupiter,  
To thee my Father every Year  
Does Sacrifice a Tup, a good one:  
Then speak in truth, and conscience, would one  
Be so ungrateful a Curmudgel,  
To steal away his Age's Cudgel?  
Besides, what have I done, I pray,  
Should make thee Spirit me away?  
Who knows but now, whilst I'm in Heaven,  
My flock being left at Six and Seven,  
The Wolf's amongst them breaking's fast;  
Nay perhaps worry'ng up the last.  Jupit. 
Why let the Wolf even play the Glutton,  
'Tis but a little rotten mutton.  
Fie what a whimp'ring dost thou keep,  
For a few mangy lousy Sheep.  
Thou must forget such things (my Lad)  
Why thou art now immortal made,  
Fellow t'th ' Gods, and therefore now  
Must think no more of things below.  Ganim. 
What then I warrant, Jupiter,  
Thou dost intend to keep me here,  
And wilt not deign to make a stoop  
To set me where thou took'st me up?  Jupit. 
I think I shall not (my small friend)  
For if I do I lose my end,  
And all that I by that should gain  
Would be my labour for my pain.  Ganim. 
I but my Sire will angry be,  
So angry when he misses me,  
That he will sound firk my dock  
For thus abandoning his flock.  Jupit. 
For that (my pretty Boy) ne'er fear;  
For thou shalt always tarry here.  Ganim. 
Nay but I wonot, so I wonot,  
Nor you shan't keep me, no you sha'not,  
Spite of your Nose, and will-ye, will-ye?  
I will go home again, that will I:  
But if thou wouldst so far befriend me,  
As set me down where thou didst find me,  
I'll sacrifice (I do not mock)  
To thee the fairest Tup i'th' flock.  Jupit. 
thou'rt simple and a Child indeed,  
To think that I such Off●…rings need!  
Tup mutton's t'me the worst of meat,  
And thou too must such things forget;  
thou'rt now in Heaven fit to do  
Thy Father Good and Country too:  
Nor needest thou now his anger fear,  
His arm's too short to reach thee here;  
Nor shalt thou henceforth dread the Rod,  
Thou no more Boy art but a God.  
Far better fare thou shalt find here,  
Than that same sower-sawced whipping Cheer:  
Far better here thou shalt be fed,  
Than with hard crusts of dry brown-bread,  
Sour milk, salt butter, and hard cheese:  
No, thou shalt feed, instead of these,  
Or your slip-slap of Curds and Whey,  
On Nectar and Ambrosia.  
And if thou'lt do as thou shouldst do,  
Shalt see thy Constellation too,  
Shine brighter, and in higher place  
Than all the rest the Sky that grace.  Ganim. 
ay, but when I've a mind to play,  
What play fellows are here I pray?  
For every day (excepting Friday)  
I'd play-fellows dingdong on Ida.  Jupit. 
Why Cupid shall attend thy call,  
To play at Cat, at Trap, or Ball,  
Dust-point, Span-counter, Skittle-pins,  
And thou no more shall play for pins:  
But have a care, the little Guts  
Will be too hard for thee at Butts.  
Thou'st have thy belly full of sport,  
I give thee here my promise for't,  
And brave sport too, but then (I trow)  
Thou must forget the things below.  Ganim. 
Well, but thou hast not told me yet  
What I must do to earn my meat?  
Hast thou here any flocks of Sheep  
To send me out a days to keep?  Jupit. 
No, thou a life shalt have much fairer;  
Thou to the God's shalt be Cupbearer,  
And purest Nectar to them fill  
Whilst at their merry Feasts they swill.  Ganim. 
Is that same Nectar, which they drink,  
Better than Red-Cows-milk dost think?  Jup. 
Thou'dst ne'er drink other whilst life lasted  
Hadst thou but once that liquor tasted.  Ganim. 
But then where must I lie a-nights?  
For I am monstrous afraid of Spirits;  
I hope in hot, and in cold weather,  
Cupid and I must lie together.  Jupit. 
No (sirrah) thou shalt lie with me;  
For therefore did I spirit thee.  Ganim. 
Why art not thou, poor little one,  
Old enough yet to lie alone?  Jupit. 
Yes; but there is a certain joy  
In lying with a pretty Boy.  Gan. 
A pretty Boy! that's better yet,  
What's Beauty when one cannot see't?  
When one is fast asleep (I wis)  
One little cares for prettiness.  Jup. 
That's true, but dreams proceed from it,  
Which are so tickling, and so sweet.  Gan. 
But when I piged with mine own Dad,  
I used to make him hopping mad,  
Who as he lay a-bed would grumble,  
That I did nought but toss and tumble,  
Talk in my sleep, and pant, and kick  
His sides and paunch so hard and thick,  
He could not sleep one wink all night:  
For which, so soon as ere 'twas light,  
He packed me to my Mother duly.  
Seeing then in Bed I'm so unruly,  
If thou didst only bring me hither  
That thou and I might lie together,  
Thou may'st even set me down again;  
For I shall certain be thy bain.  Jupit. 
Why kick thy worst, my little Brat,  
I like thee ne'er the worse for that:  
'Tis better far than lying still,  
Put I can kiss thee there my fill.  Ganim. 
Why, each one as he likes (you know)  
Quo'th ' good man when he kissed his Cow;  
You may do what you will, but I  
Shall sleep the while most certainly.  Jup. 
Well, well! for that as time shall try:  
In the mean time, you Mercury,  
Here take and make my pretty Page  
Drink the immortal Beverage,  
That after I may him prefer  
To be my chiefest Cupbearer:  
But e'er to wait you bring him up,  
First teach him to present the Cup.   

DIALOGUE.  
Juno and Jupiter.  Jun. 
WHy what a strange life dost thou lead!  
Since thou hast got this Ganymede.  
ay, who have been thy faithful wife  
Can't get a kiss to save my life:  
But thou dost look so strangely on me,  
As if till now thou ne'er hadst known me.  Jupit. 
What will not wife thy jealous pate,  
To vex thyself and me, create?  
Was such a Jealousy e'er known,  
To that degree of frenzy grown,  
As to run supposition mad  
Of a poor simple harmless Lad!  
I thought none but the female kind  
Could raise such whimsies in thy mind.  Juno. 
Nay (faith) thou'rt excellent at both trades,  
Both at thine Ingles, and thy Jades.  
And all my chiding's to no end;  
I think thou art too old to mend:  
Else, maugre thy bad inclination,  
Thou'dst tender more thy Reputation.  
Dost fit the King of Gods I pray,  
To Masquerade it every day,  
And to transform himself one while  
To Gold, a Virgin to beguile,  
Another while into a Bull,  
To make another Maid a Trull,  
And then into a Swan, to try  
The treading way of Lechery;  
And to put on all these strange shapes  
In order to adult'rou Rapes?  
And yet for all thy pranks on Earth  
(Unfitting far thy place and birth)  
Thou hitherto hast ever yet  
Had either so much Grace, or Wit,  
Manners, or Shame, or altogether,  
As not to bring thy Trollops hither,  
As thou hast done this Dandiprat,  
For all the Gods to titter at,  
And all under pretence the Youth  
Must be your Cupbearer forsooth:  
As all the Gods inhabit here,  
Unworthy of the Office were,  
As if my daughter Hebe was;  
Or Vulcan weary of the place;  
Or any of the Gods indeed,  
Might not perform it for a need.  
And then, which more does vex me still,  
He never does the Goblet fill,  
And ready with it waiting stand,  
But e'er thou tak'st it at his hand,  
Thou fallest a kissing him 'fore all  
The Gods in the Olympic Hall;  
Which thou dost too with so much passion,  
And after such immodest fashion,  
That the Boys kisses one would think,  
Were sweeter than the Heavenly drink.  
Nay, thou full oft for drink dost call,  
When thoust no list to drink at all,  
No more than thou hast need to piss:  
Only a mere pretence to kiss.  
Sometimes thou mak'st him drink to thee,  
A kind of slav'ring Lechery,  
Of which the meaning's only this,  
To place thy mouth where he did his,  
Which ravishes thee, whilst thou think'st,  
Thou kissest all the while thou drinkest.  
'Twas a fine sight last day to see  
Thy little Catamite, and thee  
Playing at Nine-peggs with such heat,  
That mighty Jupiter did sweat  
In Querpo, to th' beholders wonder,  
Devested of his Shield and Thunder.  
I both know all thy pranks and thee,  
Think not to make a fool of me.  Jup. 
Heh! whirr! I think our Dame's grown wild;  
What harm's in kissing a fine Child;  
And adding that delight to Nectar,  
That I must have this Curtain-Lecture?  
If thou but tasted hadst the blisses  
Are wrapped up in his luscious kisses,  
Thou wouldst be of another mind,  
And not reproach me in this kind.  Juno. 
I thought that I should trap thee soon,  
Now thou speakest perfect Bougeroon.  
I should have little wit (I trow)  
And very little virtue too,  
Should I defile my lips so much,  
As such an Urchin once to touch.  Jupit. 
That Urchin thou dost so despise,  
And speakest of in such taunting wise,  
Pleases me more (my haughty Dame)  
Than some Body I will not name.  
Urge me not to't, thou wert not best,  
And cease my pleasure to contest.  Juno. 
Not I, I shall not be so rash:  
No prithee marry thy Bardach.  
To spite me worse: Go hug thy Chit:  
But yet withal do not forget  
How thou dost use me on the score  
Of this thy little stripling whore.  Jupit. 
I know what 'tis, thou'dst have thy Gripple  
Wait here, and fill me out my Tipple,  
When he comes with his dirty Golls  
From raking up his smutty coals,  
Sweeting and stinking from his Forge,  
Enough to make one to disgorge,  
And in this cleanly plight, I know  
Thou fain wouldst have me kiss him too:  
Even when he doth so nasty seem  
That thou his Mother keck'st at him.  
It would be wisely done (no doubt)  
For such a foul unseemly Lout  
To put away my Ganymede,  
So sweet a Boy, so finely bred,  
And (which thy mind does more molest  
A hundred times than all the rest)  
Whose every delicious kiss,  
Is sweeter far than Nectar is.  Juno. 
ay, I, my Son thou dost abhor,  
Now thou hast this trim Servitor:  
But till thou hadst this Skip Jack got,  
With Vulcan thou didst find no fault.  
And all his collow, and his soot,  
His dirt, and sweat, and stink to boot,  
Not hindered, but thou took'st delight  
Both in his service, and his sight.  Jupit. 
Thou dreadful scold, thy din surcease,  
And (if thou canst) once hold thy peace.  
Thy Jealousy does but improve  
My indignation, and my Love.  
Let Vulcan serve thee as he did,  
If thou dislikest Ganymede:  
But hang me if I drink a sup;  
Unless my Boy present the Cup.  
Nay, at each draught, I'll tell thee more,  
Hee'st give me kisses half a score.  
Come, come, my pretty Favourite,  
Do not thou whimper for her spite.  
Let who dares vex my Boy, thou'st see,  
I'll order'um I warrant thee.   

DIALOGUE.  
Juno and Jupiter.  Juno. 
NOw Jupiter that none is near us  
To hearken, or to overhear us;  
Tell me, I prithee, and be clear,  
What think'st thou of this Ixion here?  Jupit. 
Why, I think Ixion (wife) true-blew,  
An honest man as e'er I knew,  
A sturdy piece of flesh, and proper,  
A merry Grig, and a true Toper.  
Nor had I, but I thought him so,  
Made so much on him as I do;  
Neither, but that I understood  
His Company was very good,  
Had I (be sure) been so affable,  
As to admit him to my Table.  Juno. 
See, see, how one may be deceived!  
'Tis odds I shall not be believed:  
But Ixion is (without offence)  
The sawci'st piece of insolence,  
That ever came within thy doors;  
And fitter mate for Rogues and Whores  
By much, than (Jupiter) for thee,  
Or any of thy Family.  
Nay, fitter for his 
† Because he killed his Father in law.  former pranks,  
As well as these, the Hangman's thanks,  
As he now handled has the matter,  
Than put his spoon into thy platter.  
Yet thou may'st entertain him still  
Only to Gourmandize and swill:  
But, for my part, I'll ne'er endure him;  
Nor shall he stay here I'll assure him.  Jupit. 
What has he done to move thee thus,  
Come prithee now be serious,  
And tell me true, nay quickly do it;  
For I am resolute to know it?  Juno. 
What has he done? why 'tis so wicked,  
That truly I'm ashamed to speak it.  Jup. 
What? with some Goddess he'd have been  
Playing belike at In and In,  
And would be at the Rutting sport?  
For so thy words seem to import.  Juno. 
Well, and dost thou conceive that fit,  
That thou dost make so light of it?  
Is that no fault; nay could he yet  
A Crime more capital commit?  
That's it indeed, thoust hit upon't,  
And greater still to make th' affront,  
No body else could serve the Youth,  
But even I myself forsooth.  
I did not heed his love at first,  
Not dreaming that the Rascal durst  
Have aimed at me, but at the last,  
Observing what Sheeps-eyes he cast,  
What sighs he fetch't, how now and then  
He wept, and sighed, and wept again,  
Drank after me, and then would leer,  
And kiss the Cup; I than saw clear,  
Though ne'er before I did suspect it,  
His folly was to me directed.  
Yet still I thought time would blow over  
This humour of my saucy Lover,  
Wherefore (though vexed) I thus long drove it,  
Ashamed I swear to tell thee of it;  
Till now at last the saucy Ass,  
Has put on such a brazen face,  
As without all respect to be  
So bold as to solicit me.  
But now to speak 'tis more than time,  
When to conceal it were a crime:  
And therefore, flying from his tears,  
And stopping with both hands both ears,  
From being guilty Auditors  
Of what my Virtue so abhors,  
I strait came running unto thee,  
Fast as my legs would carry me,  
To tell thee how this Goat, this satire,  
This Rogue, this Slave, this Fornicator,  
Whom thou hast entertained, and fed,  
Attempts the honour of thy Bed,  
To th'end thou may'st the Whelp chastise,  
In just and exemplary wise.  Jupit. 
This is a daring Rogue, I swear,  
T'attempt to cuckold Jupiter!  
It was the Nectar in his pate,  
That did this insolence create:  
But I myself, I must confess,  
Am cause of these miscarriages,  
By overloving Mortals so  
Extravagantly as I do,  
And by permitting them to be  
Over-familiar and too free  
With my Divinity and me;  
He else had ne'er attempted thee.  
For 'tis no wonder when they eat  
The very same provoking meat,  
And liquor drink the blood that fires,  
If they have then the same desires,  
And quite forgetting then their duties,  
Are sinitten with immortal Beauties.  
Besides thou knowst as well as I  
So much of Cupid's Tyranny,  
So great no Tyrant here above is  
Near, as that little Bastard Love is.  Juno. 
He master is of thee indeed,  
And thee still by the nose does lead,  
(As the old saying is) and makes  
Thee play a thousand senseless sreaks:  
But come, I faith, I faith, I know  
What makes thee pity Ixion so.  
To pardon him thou art inclined,  
'Cause he but pays thee in thy kind:  
Time was thou his wife didst dishonour,  
And gatt'st Perithoüs upon her.  Jupit. 
Fie, will that never be forgot?  
Come I'll acquaint thee with my plot.  
It would to banish him appear  
A sentence somewhat too severe;  
His being o'er head and ears in love,  
Does (I confess) my pity move.  
Since therefore he's so woe begun,  
So sighs, and cries, and so takes on,  
I tell thee plain, I do protest,  
Things being thus, I think it best—  Juno. 
What that I lie with him, I warrant!  Jupit. 
Dost think I am a sot so errand?  
No, I'm not so kind to him neither:  
I prithee hold thy legs together.  
That's more than will be well allowed;  
But I will dizen him a Cloud  
So like to thee, as shall persuade him,  
He has made me, what I have made him,  
And that in pure commiseration,  
In part to satisfy his passion.  Juno. 
Why, this will be for to reward him,  
For what thou shouldst at least discard him.  Jupit. 
But speak in pure sincerity,  
What harm will this do thee, or me?  Juno. 
Why he will think it me, that's flat,  
Then I shall pass for I know what.  Jupit. 
No matter what's by him believed,  
'Tis only he will be deceived;  
And if a Cloud like thee I make,  
No Juno 'tis, but a mistake,  
And he by this my pretty cheat,  
A race of Centauris shall beget.  Juno. 
But if (as now adays thou knowst  
Men are too apt to make their boast)  
This Rogue so soon as he has done,  
As they all do, should straightway run,  
And publish to the world, that he  
Has had his filthy will of me;  
Pray after such a fine Oration,  
Where then were Juno's reputation?  Jup. 
Should he do such a thing as that,  
I'd teach the Rascal how to prate,  
And if he needs must kiss, and tell,  
I'll kick him headlong into Hell,  
Where to a wheel he shall be bound,  
And like a Mill-horse still turn round,  
And never have a moment's rest;  
Nor thence shall ever be released.  Juno. 
If he do prove so damned a Dog,  
'Twill be but Justice on the Rogue.   

DIALOGUE.  
Vulcan and Apollo.  Apollo 
GOod speed, of fire thou sooty King,  
I ever hear thy Anwoile ring.  
Thy smoke still mounts from Aetna hill;  
I think thy Bellows ne'er lie still:  
Surely it costs thee much in Leathers,  
For thou dost blow and strike all weathers.  Vulc. 
God-den Apollo, and well met,  
Hast seen the little Merc'ry yet,  
How fine a Child, how sweet a face,  
And what a smiling countenance t'has?  
Which plainly does methink presage,  
Something when he shall come to age,  
That is extraord'nary, and great,  
Though he is but an Infant yet.  Apollo. 
A pretty Infant questionless!  
Old Japhets' Sire in wickedness.  Vulc. 
What harm can he have done, I trow,  
That came into the world but now?  Apollo. 
Go, and ask Neptune that, I pray,  
Whose Trident he hath stole away.  
Or Mars that question can decide,  
Whose Sword he pilfered from his side;  
To whom myself I too could join,  
Whose Bow and Shafts he did purloin.  Vulc. 
What such a nazardly Pigwiggin,  
A little Hang-strings in a Biggin?  
Away, away, Apollo flouts!  
What a Filou in swathing Clouts?  Apollo. 
Well think so, but if this Filou  
Come here, thou'lt see what he can do.  Vulc. 
H'as been already here to day.  Apollo. 
Well, and is nothing missing pray?  Vulc. 
Not that I know of.  Apollo. 
That may be;  
But prithee look about and see.  Vulc. 
I cannot see my Pincers though.  Apollo. 
O, cry you mercy, can't you so,  
There's one cast of his office now.  
Now dare I venture twenty pound,  
They'll be amongst his Trinkets found.  Vulc. 
Faith, and assure thyself I'll try,  
Is the young Thief indeed so sly?  
Such lucky Chucks there's so great need on,  
we'll keep this hopeful Youth to breed on.  
A precious Pepin, and a trim,  
A right Arch-bird, I'll warrant him.  
An Infant quotha! marry hang him,  
If he were mine I would so bang him.  
What were my tongues too hot I trow,  
To stick to your small fingers so?  
I'll make a Burn mark with a T,  
To fist you with Sir Mercury.  
But I'm astonished at the Lad,  
How he so soon could learn his trade,  
He learned (to be a Rogue so pure)  
To steal in's Mother's belly sure.  Apollo. 
These are his recreations these;  
But he has other Qualities.  
Mark but that nimble tongue of his,  
What a pert prating Urehin ' 'tis.  
His mouth will one day be a spout  
Of Eloquence without all doubt.  
he'll be an Orator, I warrant,  
And if he be not, let me hear on't:  
And a prime Wrestler as e'er tripped,  
Ere gave the Cornish Hug, or Hipt;  
Or I am much mistaken in him;  
And any one would say't had seen him:  
For he already has at first,  
Put Monsieur Cupid to the worst,  
And gave him such a dreadful fall,  
I thought had broke his bones withal;  
In troth I ne'er saw such another,  
But Love went puling to his Mother,  
Which as the Gods were laughing at,  
And Venus went to moan her Brat,  
Whilst she was kissing the small Archer,  
And drying tears with Lawn handkerchief,  
In comes that crafty Youth and sly,  
That little filching Mercury,  
And in a twinkling (I protest)  
Whips me away her amorous Cest,  
Nay, and Jove's Thunder too had got,  
But 'twas too heavy and too hot,  
But yet his Sceptre went to pot.  Vulc. 
By Jupiter a hardy Youth!  Apollo. 
Nay, he's a Minstril too.  Vulc. 
In truth!  Apollo. 
Yes faith, a better never played,  
Nay, and the little Rogue has made  
A Fiddle of a Tortoise-shell,  
On which he plays so rarely well,  
That he puts fair to put down me,  
Who am the God of Harmony.  
His Mother's troubled at his ways;  
He never sleeps a-nights she says,  
But goes, for all that she can say,  
As far as Hell to seek for prey,  
And he has got, by slight of hand,  
A most incomparable wand;  
Of so strange virtue, that 'tis said,  
It with a waft does raise the dead,  
And both the dead from Death can save,  
And send the living to the Grave.  Vulc. 
Nay, nay, of that I must acquit him;  
For I to play withal did get-him.  Apollo. 
That's well, and he in recompense  
Has stolen away thy Pincers hence.  Vulc. 
S'nigs, well remembered! I'll be gone  
To search his corners for my own:  
And if I find 'em in his Cradle,  
Take it from me his sides I'll swaddle.   

DIALOGUE.  
Vulcan and Jupiter.  Vul. 
HEre, I have brought thee home a hatchet,  
If any Smith for temper match it,  
Or edge, I'll say no more but so,  
I'll ne'er strike stroke more whilst I blow.  
And now 'tis here new from the Smithy,  
What must we do with it, I prithee?  Jupit. 
Why cleave my head in two with it.  Vulc. 
How, cleave thy head, the De'el a bit!  
Thou sayest so but to try my wit.  
But tell me quickly, prithee do,  
What use thou'lt have it put unto;  
For I Sol's Coach horses must show?  Jupit. 
Why, for to cleave my head in two.  
I am in earnest, therefore do it,  
Or (thou lame Rascal) thou shalt rue it,  
And if thou be'st so shy of mine,  
Beware that great Calves-head of thine;  
Fear not, but strike with might and main,  
For my Scalp splits with very pain,  
And I do suffer all the Throes  
A woman in her labour does.  Vulc. 
In labour quotha, 't may be so:  
But let's consider what we do;  
For, I'm afraid, I hardly shooed  
Lay thee as Dame Lucina wooed.  Jupit. 
Wilt thou leave prating sirrah once;  
Lest I make bold with thy wise sconce:  
Do thou but strike courageously,  
And home, and leave the rest to me.  Vulc. 
Why Jupiter, if thee I kill;  
Bear witness 'tis against my will:  
There is no help, I must obey;  
Have at thy Coxcomb than I say,  
For with this Butcher's blow of mine;  
I'll cleave thee down unto the Chine.  
Good Gods! no wonder if thy brains  
Suffered intolerable pains,  
When such a lusty strapping Trull  
As this lay kicking in thy skull.  
Nay, and an Amazon to boot,  
Which though not armed from head to foot,  
Is furnished yet to take the field,  
And has both Helmet, Lance, and Shield.  
'Twas breeding this brave Lass belike,  
Made thee so cross and choleric,  
And yet the Girl (I vow and swear)  
Is most incomparably fair:  
Prithee, for having laid thee well,  
Give me her for my Dowsabel;  
For though newborn, the Wench is able,  
And I'll uphold her marriageable.  Jup. 
With all my heart I give her free;  
But thou'lt ne'er make her marry thee:  
For she will never be a Wife,  
But live a Virgin all her life.  
Therefore ne'er offer to persuade her;  
For thou art sure to lose thy labour.  Vulc. 
Well, well, for that let me alone;  
I'll make her coming ten to one;  
I have been in my days a Blade  
At winning of a pretty Maid,  
And can bring this to my command,  
As easily as kiss my hand,  
Provided I have thy consent.  Jup. 
Why thou may'st try, but thou'lt repent.   

DIALOGUE.  
Neptune and Mercury.  Nept. 
HArk, Cousin Mercury, dost hear,  
Could not one speak with Jupiter?  Merc. 
No, save thy labour, and be gone,  
he's busy, and will speak with none.  Nept. 
But, prithee, let him know 'tis I.  Merc. 
I tell thee he'll see no body,  
And therefore prithee go thy way;  
For he'll be seen of none to day.  Nept. 
Are he and's wife, if one may ask,  
Making the beast with the two backs?  Merc. 
Couldst thou no other question find?  
They two but seldom are so kind.  Nept. 
Then Ganymede and he's together.  Merc. 
No truly Signior Neptune neither.  Nept. 
What then? I'll know spite of thy nose.  Merc. 
You'll ask me leave first, I suppose.  
But he's not well, will that suffice?  Nept. 
Not well! where is it his grief lies?  Merc. 
Why I'm ashamed to tell thee where.  Nept. 
What a 
* Brother to Jupiter.  Relation so near!  
Leave fooling (Coz) I prithee now,  
And tell me, for I long to know.  Merc. 
Why, since I see thou'lt not be said,  
Know, that he's newly brought to bed.  Nept. 
How! this is monstrous by this light!  
What is he an Hermaphrodite?  
I ne'er perceived his Belly rise  
Above the ordinary size.  Merc. 
That's likely; neither, I must tell ye,  
Was he delivered from his Belly.  Nept. 
From what part then? was't from his head,  
As when he his Minerva bred?  
Is that delivered once again?  
He has a wondrous fruitful brain.  Merc. 
No this Birth issued from his Thigh.  Nept. 
Go sirrah, now I know you lie.  
What wouldst thou have me such a Noddy,  
To think he Spawns all o'er his Body.  Merc. 
Well, but there is more in't then so,  
And thou the truth of all shalt know.  
Juno, whose spiteful Jealousy  
Thou knowst I'm sure as well as I,  
In Malice, Semele persuades  
(One of his best beloved Jades)  
Since Jupiter did her so honour,  
As Children to beget upon her:  
She so much kindness had for her,  
That she no longer should incur  
A Common Lemman's imputation:  
But for her better reputation,  
No more with him in private lie:  
But make him own her publicly:  
Therefore my Semele (quoth she)  
Prithee for once be ruled by me,  
And if he have true kindness for thee,  
Make him come next in all his glory,  
Not sneaking in a mean disguise  
Like Rogues to midnight Letcheries:  
But like himself robed round with wonder,  
And with his Lightning and his Thunder:  
So all will honour and adore thee,  
Who now despise thee, and abhor thee.  
The Girl thus tickled in the Ear,  
And proud herself as Lucifer,  
So ordered it with this great King,  
Whom Whores can make do any thing,  
That he came next in this attire:  
But then before he could come nigh her  
His Lightning set the Room on fire,  
And with its all consuming flashes,  
Reduced the Room and House to ashes.  
In which case, all that we could do  
Was but to save the Embryo:  
(For she was then with Child, be't known,  
By Jupiter, and seven Months gone)  
Which ripping from her Belly, I  
Put warm into thy Brother's thigh,  
There to complete the term required;  
Which being but just now expired,  
He's brought to Bed, and truth to speak,  
With his hard labour very weak.  Nept. 
And where is this same twice-born Chit?  Merc. 
To Nysa I have carried it,  
By the Nymphs there to be brought up,  
Who knowing he will be given t'th ' Cup,  
And in hard drinking very vicious,  
Have aptly Named him Dionysius.  Nept. 
Then of this Child he's Sire and Dam,  
And it may call him Dad and Mam?  Merc. 
Yes truly, it is even so,  
He any of these may answer to:  
But I can't stay to tell thee more;  
For I should have been gone before,  
And in this stay have done amiss  
To prate at such a time as this.  
I now must use both heels and wings,  
Water to fetch, and other things  
For Childbed women, and had need  
Repair my negligence with speed:  
All the good wives else will me blame,  
For now I the Man-midwife am.   

DIALOGUE.  
Mercury and the Sun.  Merc. 
JOve (Sol) commands thee by me here  
To stop thy Steeds in their Career,  
For the full space of three whole days  
He will not have thee shine, he says:  
But thou art to conceal thy light,  
For he will have that term all night.  
Therefore I think it thy best Course is,  
To let the Hours unteam thy Horses,  
Get a good Nightcap on thy Head,  
But out thy Torch, and go to Bed.  Sol. 
'tis an extravagant Command,  
And that I do not understand.  
What I have done, I fain would know,  
That Jupiter should use me so?  
What fault committed in my place  
To put upon me this disgrace?  
Have I not ever kept my Horse  
In the precincts of their due Course;  
Or though twelve Inns are in my way,  
Did I ere drink, or stop, or stay?  
Bear witness all the God's in Heaven  
If I've not duly Morn, and Even,  
Rosen, and set, and care did take  
To keep touch with the Almanac.  
What then my fault is, I confess,  
If I should die, I cannot guests:  
And why he should, much less I know  
Suspend me ab officio.  
It sure must be a great offence  
Deserves the worst of punishments,  
As this is he on me doth lay,  
That Night must triumph over Day.  Merc. 
Fie, what a clutter dost thou make,  
And all about a mere mistake:  
Thou talk'st of anger, and disgrace,  
There's no such matter in the case.  
Thou wide art of his meaning quite,  
He bids thee to withdraw thy light,  
That for three days it may not shine  
In order to a great design  
He has that won't endure the Sun,  
But is by Owl-light to be done.  Sol. 
Faith tell me that design of his,  
What he's about, and where he is.  Merc. 
I'll tell thee, if thou needs will know,  
He's Cuckolding Amphytrio.  Sol. 
'Tis very fine, and won't one Night  
Take the edge off his Appetite?  
Cannot one Night give him enough?  
Is the old Lecher still so tough,  
A Swinge-bow of so high renown,  
A Wench can't sooner take him down?  Merc. 
No, but he means to get of her  
A very mighty Man of War,  
Of heart most stout, and limbs most vast,  
Which is not to be done in haste:  
But of another kind of fashion,  
Then every common Generation.  Sol. 
Why let him lay about him then  
To finish this great Man of Men:  
But let me tell thee, these strange ways  
Were not in use in Saturn's days.  
He ne'er left Rhea in his life  
To lecher with another's wife:  
But for one whore now (which is scurvy)  
All things must turned be topsy-turvy.  
In the mean time 'tis ten to one  
My horses will be Resty grown,  
For want of use, and thorns I know  
In my Career will spring, and grow;  
And Mankind must in darkness languish  
Whilst he his bawdy Lance does brandish,  
And stews himself in his own grease,  
To get this admirable piece.  Merc. 
Peace, peace, friend Sol, no more of that;  
Lest he do teach thee how to prate.  
In the mean time I must be gone  
With the same message to the Moon,  
To keep within, and veil her face,  
As many Nights, as thou dost Days.  
My last Commission is to Sleep,  
That Mortal's eyes he so long keep  
Sealed up in rest, and all the while  
Feed them with Dreams, time to beguile,  
That when thy light unseals their eyes,  
(And then it will be time to rise)  
They may when that day does begin,  
Not know how long a night 't has been.   

DIALOGUE.  
Venus and the Moon.  Ven. 
TEll me my pale complexioned Lass  
Bright Cynthia, how comes this to  
(pass,  
That thou'rt accused of things, I swear,  
I'm sorry, and ashamed to hear?  
It is reported every where  
That thou in midst of thy Career,  
Thy Chariot often stoppest, and there,  
(Which is a piece of impudence)  
Under a pitiful pretence,  
Of making water, stealest i'th' Night  
T'a Hunter that Endymion height.  
Where (little to thy praise be it spoken)  
His Visage thou dost gaze, and look on  
(Which none but your light Huswives do)  
As thou wouldst look him through, and through  
Whilst he, not dreaming of thy folly,  
Lies gaping like a great Lob-lolly,  
On Carian Latmus loudly snoring,  
Insensible of thy Amoring.  
Nay, if the lumpish Boy should wake,  
Thy kisses he'd not kindly take;  
Nor would he understand thy passion  
At all to be an obligation.  Luna. 
Why 'tis that Nere-be-good thy Son,  
Has made me do what I have done.  Venus. 
ay, hang him little Gallow-strings,  
He does a thousand of these things,  
And well may do it to another,  
That spares not me who am his Mother.  
He set me so upon the Hy-day,  
As made me oft descend on Ida.  
To get Anchises, young and able,  
Make me a handle to my Ladle:  
And to Mount Libanus t' Adonis,  
(Who, rest go with him, dead and gone is)  
But then the Boy was wholly mine,  
Till stole away by Proserpina,  
Who, to speak plain, and not to lie,  
Had a sweet Tooth as well as I;  
And kept him for her Drudgery.  
Till seeing me to weep and mourn,  
She sent him me sometimes in turn;  
For which his pranks, I'll tell thee what,  
I threatened have the graceless Brat  
A hundred times at least, I know,  
To break his Quiver and his Bow,  
To clip his wings, and play debar him,  
And every thing I thought would scare him.  
Nay, but last day, I tell thee true,  
I plainly took my Youth to do,  
And with one of my Shoes with Claps,  
Whipped me the roguy Jack-an-apes,  
Until I had almost fetch't blood:  
But all I see will do no good;  
He quickly has forgot the pain,  
And does the same thing o'er again,  
And so he will do still, but tell though,  
Is thy Sweetheart a pretty Fellow?  
For if he's handsome, or have wit,  
There is in that some comfort yet.  Luna. 
Thou knowst no Loves do foul appear:  
But it is true, I can't forbear  
Staring and gazing in his face,  
When coming weary from the Chase,  
His Mantle he on ground does spread,  
And falls asleep, leaning his head  
On his right arm, which does embrace,  
Being twined about his head, his face,  
Whilst from his left his Arrows all,  
Do dropping negligently fall.  
Then stealing, and on Tiptoe too,  
As folks to make less noise still do,  
For fear of waking him; I there  
Perceive his breath perfume the Air,  
And in soft breathe yield a sent  
So ravishing, and redolent,  
That I am forced to sit down by him  
And sigh, and kiss, and kissing eye-him;  
When sitting thus, and sometimes stealing  
A little little touch of feeling,  
Whilst I still gazed upon his face,  
It tingles in a certain place  
To that degree, that I protest—  
I know thou now canst guests the rest,  
As having in thyself made proof.  
Thou knowst what Love is well enough:  
But then, O then, I am all fire,  
And even ready to expire.   

DIALOGUE.  
Venus and Cupid.  Venus. 
WHy what work (Sirrah) dost thou  
(make!  
Thou every hour mak'st my heartake  
For fear of thee, thou graceless Whelp,  
In doing things I cannot help.  
I do not, Rakehell, mean those pranks  
(Though even they deserve small thanks)  
Thou play'st on Earth, where thou hast done  
The strangest things that e'er were known,  
Set men a rambling, women gadding,  
Young, old, sound, lame, and all a madding:  
Filled the whole world with dismal cries  
Of Incests, Rapes, Adulteries,  
In stead of harmless recreation  
Allowed in simple Fornication:  
Nor is the common Rout alone  
Subject to thy Dominion:  
But thou hast made the greatest Kings  
Do more, nay, yet more senseless things,  
Than th'errants (as one may 'em call)  
Tagrag Plebeians on 'em all.  
Yet still these People Mortals be,  
And subject to thy Deity;  
Nor (though blame-worthy) is th'offence  
Of such a dangerous consequence,  
As those thou dost commit above,  
Where thou confound'st us all with love,  
Even the God's King thou dost not spare,  
But mak'st the mighty Thunderer  
Better to play his amorous prizes,  
Put on ridiculous disguises,  
Whilst Jupiter we all despise,  
(Who one would think should be more wise)  
For those his childish Mummeries.  
Next unto Carian Latmus' crown  
Thou mak'st the sober Moon come down,  
Than whom a better fame had none,  
To visit her Endymion.  
The Sun, who diligent wont to be,  
Thou mak'st to stay with Climene,  
Neglecting his diurnal Courses,  
And turn to grass his fiery Horses.  
Sans naming, thou mischievous Else,  
What thou hast done to me myself,  
Who though thy Dam, and a fond Mother,  
Thou hast used worse than any other:  
Yet these (though such things ne'er were heard on)  
Were yet within the pale of pardon,  
And might in time have been o'erblown,  
Hadst thou let Cybele alone:  
But to attaque a poor old Mumps,  
Whose teeth were long since turned to stumps,  
Great Grannam to so many Gods,  
Deserves a whole Cartload of Rods.  
And thus to make a poor old Trot  
Fly raging up and down (I wot)  
Set in her Chariot drawn with Lions,  
And bidding Gravity defiance,  
As if she were stark staring mad,  
After a Scurvy-shit-breech Lad,  
And even of Stocks, and Stones inquire  
Of Atys, her small Apple-squire,  
Is such a thing (my graceless Son)  
As certainly was never done.  
Nor in her inquisition,  
Does she yet play the fool alone;  
But which is a most gross mistake,  
And does her shame more public make,  
She does even here her State maintain,  
And goes with all her Juggling Train  
Of Corybantes at her heels,  
Who as their brains were set on wheels,  
Disperse themselves all over Ide,  
Whooping aloud on every side  
(No wiser than their mad old Dame)  
Calling and whooping Atys Name.  
Where some in fury are so wooed.  
As with one arm t'let t'other blood,  
Some weep in blood, and some in tears,  
Some with their hair about their ears  
Run headlong down the Precipices,  
Enough to dash themselves in pieces.  
One winds a Horn with mighty labour,  
Another thumbs it on a Tabor,  
Another a Brass-pan employs,  
Others use Cymbals, Shaumes, Oboe  
Or any thing will make a noise.  
With which they make that hideous din,  
That the whole Mountain ring's again.  
Nay so obstreperous they are,  
And make that dismal Tintamare,  
What with their yelling, and their tink'ing,  
That unto any Mortal's thinking,  
Hell is broke loose, it sounds so odd,  
And all the Devils got abroad.  
Which makes me fear for these offences,  
If ere th'old Hag to her own Senses  
Return again, she will on thee  
Direly revenge this Roguery,  
And either without Form or Jury,  
Presently kill thee in her fury,  
Or else unto her Lion's throw,  
Or Priests, the fiercer of the two.  Cup. 
Your care's worth thanks, but truly Mother,  
I neither fear the one, nor th'other;  
For her Priest's fury I not weight,  
They all are too effeminate;  
Nor of her Lion's fearful am;  
For those already I've made tame,  
So tame, that often I astride  
A cockhorse on their back do ride,  
Spur 'em, and by their shaggy mains,  
Guide 'em as easy as with reins,  
Play with their beards, their lips, their paws,  
Make 'em extend their crooked claws,  
Nay, thrust into their mouths my fist,  
And do with 'em even what my list.  
And then for Rhea, Mother, she  
Too busy is, I warrant ye,  
About her Love to think of me.  
But after all this scolding now,  
Mother, I very fain would know,  
Wherein I've done so much a miss,  
When all I've dones but only this,  
To make that loved that lovely is.  
Which why it should be thus resented,  
I know not; would you be contented  
To have Mars cured (faith now tell true)  
O'th' passion that he has for you?  Venus. 
That thou art a malicious Brat,  
To say so damned a thing as that;  
But, Sirrah, one day possibly,  
Thou'lt think of what I've said to thee.   

DIALOGUE.  
Hercules, Aesculapius, and Jupiter.  J. 
WHy what Sirs, are you both stark mad!  
Is there no reverence to be had?  
Are you not both ashamed to brawl,  
And make this bustle in the Hall,  
Together thus by th' Ears to fall  
Like Rogues, and one another maul  
With Pots and Juggs, and all things shuffle,  
As you were at a Counter-scuffle?  
D'ye make an Alehouse of my House!  
If I reach one of ye a Douse  
You'll 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 Syringe, Clysterpipe before ye,  
This Leech, this vile Suppository,  
This son of twenty thousand Fathers,  
This pack of Galley-pots and Bladders,  
Before this heavenly Company  
Should offer to take place of me?  Aesculap. 
Sirrah, my noble Art disdains  
All these abominable names  
Thou vomits forth so fluently;  
Nor does the Quack belong to me;  
Thy Mountebank, I do disclaim,  
It my Profession can't defame,  
No Hocus nor no Leech I am:  
But the renowned God of Physic,  
Who cure my Patients when they lye-si●…k.  
Thy better (Ruffian) in desert;  
Or his, whoever takes thy part.  Herc. 
In what (Imposter) wouldst thou be  
Thought the advantage t'ave of me?  
Is it because a Thunderclap  
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.  Aescul. 
It does become thee well, I'faith,  
Thus to reproach me with my death,  
Having thyself 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 purged the Universe.  
But what hast thou done for thy part,  
With all thy so much boasted Art,  
But Emp'rick-like, imposed thy cheats,  
By virtue of some stolen receipts,  
Which, set off with a brazen face,  
Perhaps at Country Fairs might pass?  Aescul. 
Thou sayest well, for 'twas I applied  
The Unguent to thy roasted Hide,  
When thou cam'st hither (Captain Swasher)  
Scorched like a Herring, or a Rasher,  
Singed like a Hog (foh! thou stinkest still)  
And spitch-cocked like a salted Eel:  
But I, like thee, have never been  
Apprentice t'a Whore to learn to spin,  
A little domineering Trull  
That made the big-boned Booby pull  
Course Hempen-Hurds, slaver, and twine  
A thread, no doubt, as Cart-rope fine;  
And when the awkward Cluster-fist,  
(As he did oft) his Lesson miss,  
And broke a thread, than you might see'r  
Take him a wherret on the Ear,  
Calling him Dunce, and Loggerhead,  
Whilst the tall Soldier quaked for dread.  
Nor (Sirrah Saucebox) dost thou hear,  
I ne'er was yet the murderer  
Of my own Wife; nor yet did I  
ere slaughter my own Progeny,  
Who Innocents' could none provoke:  
As thou hast, to thy praise be't spoke.  Her. 
'Twere good thou leftest thy prating (Far-  
And quickly too, or this tall warrior, rier)  
Whom thou so seemest to despise,  
Will kick thee headlong from the skies,  
And make thee from the Crystal Vault  
Take such a dainty Somer-sault,  
That when thou comest 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,  
Physic, and Chirurgery to boot.  Aesc. 
Thou kick me down, thou vapouring Scab!  
Thou kiss the Butt-end of a Drab.  
Thou spin'st already, and shalt feel  
I have a fist will teach thee Reel.  
Let's have fair play, and make a Round,  
I'll cuff with thee for twenty pound:  
Or I will meet thee where thou wilt,  
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 Lion's 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'er these Costermongers words,  
Or I protest (which I am loath)  
I'll 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 Billingsgate.  
But first I the dispute will end,  
For which so sweetly you contend.  
Know then (my brace of illbred Huffers)  
You pair of brawling drunken Cuffers,  
You neither of you here have place,  
But merely 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 unmannered Asses)  
That you may know your worship's places,  
And no more such a rumble keep,  
I'll have it go by Eldership,  
And as the Doctor older is,  
So the precedence shall be his.   

DIALOGUE.  
Mercury and Apollo.  Merc. 
APollo, what's the matter pray  
You look so mustily to day?  Apollo. 
Why never any, certainly,  
Was yet so crossed in love as I;  
And any else, I think, would die of  
Half the mischievous luck that I have.  Merc. 
Hast thou new cause with Fate to quarrel,  
Since Daphne turned was to a Laurel?  Apollo. 
Oh yes, yes, yes, my honest Friend,  
My Hyacinthus timeless end.  Merc. 
Who of his murder was the Author?  Apollo. 
Myself am guilty of the slaughter.  Merc. 
What didst thou do it in thy fury?  
thou'rt passionate:  Apollo. 
No, I assure ye,  
The passion I had for that Creature  
Was of another sort of nature;  
But playing with the Boy at Mall  
(I rue the time, and ever shall)  
I struck the Ball, I know not how,  
(For that is not the play you know)  
A pretty height into the Air,  
When Zephyrus (whoed seems was there)  
And long (as thou thyself hast seen)  
Has jealous of our friendship been,  
Beat down the Ball, without Remorse,  
With such a most confounded force,  
And gave his head so damned a thumm,  
As breaking Pericranium,  
Scalp, Dura, and eke Pia Mater,  
His Brains came poppling out like water,  
And the Boy died so prettily,  
'Twould even have done one good to see.  
I presently pursued the Traitor,  
T'ave been revenged; but no such matter.  
I nockt an arrow to have shot him;  
But he soon out of distance got him.  
Besides, although in a long Bow  
I shoot as well as most I know,  
Yet (like a Dunce) I ne'er could yet  
The knack of shooting flying get.  
He was too swift, and I too slow  
To overtake the wind I trow.  
So seeing then the bloody slave  
Got into Aeolus his Cave,  
I back to my departed Joy,  
Where taking up the lovely Boy,  
I honourably brought him home,  
And built him a most stately Tomb,  
Where my Amours, and he for ever,  
Are buried, and entombed together.  
And yet my Sweetheart to survive,  
And keep my Comfort still alive,  
I from his blood have caused to spring  
A flower, the pretty'st baubling thing  
For beauty, and for sweetness too,  
On the Earth's womb that ever grew.  
Which also in its folyage wears  
Some Hieroglyphic Characters,  
Whose sense in mystic figures bears  
The story of my sighs and tears.  
And yet alas, for all I strive  
My rooted sorrow to deceive,  
By all the most diverting ways,  
I must lament him all my days.  Merc. 
Then friend Apollo thou art not  
The God of Wisdom, but a Sot:  
For those who will descend so far,  
As to love things that mortal are,  
Must for events like these prepare.  
Mortals to Fate are subject all,  
Who sooner must, or later fall:  
And the word Mortal does imply  
That they are only born to die.   

DIALOGUE.  
Apollo and Mercury.  Merc. 
'TIS a strange thing methinks, Apollo,  
That this foul Thief all smutched  
(with collow,  
This Vulcan, this old limping Rogue,  
This nasty, swarthy, ill-looked 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 hug 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.  Apollo. 
Why? 'tis a wonder certainly  
To every one, especially  
One so unfortunate as I.  
Who though (I speak sans vanity)  
I'm something better made than he,  
Not to say more, nevertheless,  
Despair of so much happiness.  Merc. 
It too much purpose is for thee  
To boast thy Form, and Harmony.  
These Cattle care not of a fig  
For thy fine frizzled Periwigg;  
Nor thy well playing of a Jig:  
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 showing them Leger-demain.  
No, no! I see these are not arts,  
To conquer the Madonna's hearts;  
And we at Bedtime, when all's done,  
Shall find that we must lie alone:  
Whilst a Mechanic Cripple here,  
(Who doubtless does a Vizor wear;  
Or has the worst of all ill faces)  
Is tousing Venus, and the Graces.  Apollo. 
Thy fortune yet's not quite so bad:  
Thou some luck in thy life hast had.  
Thou something haste to brag on yet,  
One fit with Venus thou wast great;  
When from your mutual delight  
There sprang a rare Hermaphrodite:  
But of two persons I adored,  
The one my love so much abhorred,  
That rather than she'd suffer me,  
She would be turned 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?  M. 
That's nothing strangewhere no great love is.  
Besides, fair Venus oft above is  
Passing her time most jocundly  
In Heaven, with better Company.  
While th'other are constrained the while  
To stay with him in Lemnos Isle.  
And little wanton Venus cares  
Who with her in the Blacksmith shares;  
She finer fellows has than he  
To help to do his Drudgery.  
Mars, and she (Jove forgive 'em sored)  
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 Cuckolded him?  Merc. 
Nay faith he knows it well enough;  
But he so dreads that man of Buff,  
That whatsoever he sees or hears,  
He dares not mutter for his Ears.  
Besides thou knowst, and oft hast seen't,  
How monstrous rude and insolent  
These huffing angry Boys of War,  
With pitiful Mechanics are.  Apollo. 
Well, but I'm 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'll tell thee what,  
So her Bumfiddle I had clapped,  
I'd be contented to be trapped.   

DIALOGUE.  
Juno and Latona.  Juno. 
IN truth (Latona) thou dost bear  
Such lovely Brats to Jupiter,  
That I have thought it pity often,  
They were not lawfully begotten.  Lat. 
They like their other Neighbours are,  
Not over-foul, nor over-fair;  
They pretty passable are though  
(Thank Jove) the Children are so so:  
But each one must not think to bear.  
So fine a piece as Mulciber.  Juno. 
I understand thee well enough.  
Jeer on, my back is broad enough:  
Vulcan is not so finely dressed  
As Don Apollo, 'tis confessed;  
Yet Venus (though he's not so trim)  
Found in her heart to marry him.  
And if the Artisan he lame,  
We are for that mischance to blame,  
For every one knows how it came.  
But though a Cripple in his feet,  
His hands do recompense it yet,  
For better Workman never smote  
With hammer whilst the Ir'n was hot.  
'Tis he embellished has the Skies  
With all those pretty twinkling eyes:  
'Tis he alone can undertake  
Jupiter's Thunderbolts to make;  
Nay all the Deities beside  
Are from his industry supplied,  
And he's put to't so to find wares  
To furnish all his Customers,  
That oftentimes constrained they are  
To beg, entreat, and speak him fair  
To get him make their Iron-ware.  
They all are bound t'him (on my word)  
Mars for his Cuirace, Shield, and Sword,  
The blustering Aeol for his Bident,  
And Neptune for his massy Trident,  
Ceres for Sickles, Pan for Crooks,  
Pomona for her Pruning-hooks,  
Priapus for his Grafting-knives,  
And Sir Prometheus for his Gyves.  
Nay hold! I have not yet half done,  
He's Smith and Farrier to the Sun,  
Does th' Ironwork his Chariot needs,  
Shoes, Bloods, and Drenches both his Steeds,  
Of which the one the other day  
He of a Gravel our, they say:  
And t'other of a Fistula.  
Nay, a new pair of wheels are made  
(The old ones being much decayed)  
For which he makes such lasting Fire,  
As all the Black-smiths do admire:  
Bushes the Naves, clouts th' Axletrees,  
And twenty finer things than these.  
The Goddesses are fain to woo him,  
And come to be beholding to him  
To make their Needles, and their Shears;  
And those fine Pattens his wife wears,  
Are of his making too she swears.  
By which it evident appears  
He's best at any Iron thing  
That ever made an Anvil ring.  
But that great ramping Fuss, thy Daughter,  
A mankind Trull, inur'd to slaughter,  
To the soft Sex's foul disgrace,  
Rambles about from place to place,  
And even as far as Scythia ranges,  
Where murder she for love exchanges,  
And without sense, grace, or good manners,  
Butchers her courteous entertainers.  
In this more fierce and cruel far.  
Than the most bloody Scythians are.  
And then thy Son, that hopeful piece,  
Apollo, Jack-of all-Trades is:  
Of many Arts forsooth he's Master,  
An Archer, Fidler, Poetaster,  
A kind of Salt'in-banco too,  
Who through Provinces does go  
And kills cum Privilegio.  
Nay, he pretends to more than this,  
He set's up Oracle-shops in Greece,  
At Delphos, Didyma, and Claros,  
To each of which he hath a Warehouse  
Stuffed full of lies, for great and small,  
To gull poor silly Souls withal.  
Yet so that all his fustian fictions  
(Which he pretends to be predictions)  
Though every one of them a lie,  
Are couched so wondrous cunningly,  
That howsoe'er things come about,  
He has a backdoor to get out.  
In the mean time the world abounding  
With Puppy's (that it seems 'scaped drowning)  
By these Impostors, and damned Cheats,  
Of fools he store of money gets:  
But yet the wise too well do know  
His Cheats, to part with money so;  
They find his skill in Prophecy.  
Who was so wise not to foresee  
That he one day against his will,  
Should his dear Hyacinthus kill;  
Nor that fair Daphne, his coy Miss,  
Would never like that face of his,  
For all he wears his beard so sprig,  
And has a fine Gold Periwig.  
I wonder then that thou shouldst be  
Preferred thus before Niobe;  
Or that thy Issue should be thought  
Fairer than those that she hath brought.  Lat. 
Come, come, thy spite and malice few know  
Better than I do, Madam Juno!  
I know, but care not of a Chip  
Where the shoe wrings your Ladyship.  
thou'rt vexed unto the heart (I trow)  
To see my Children triumph so,  
And shine in Heaven as they do,  
And that they celebrated are,  
The one for beautiful and fair;  
And th' other for his skill so rare  
O'th' Harp, Theorbo, and Guitarre.  Juno. 
What senseless things fond Mothers are,  
Thou mak'st me laugh, I vow and swear,  
To think thy Son thou shouldst maintain  
To be a good Musician.  
That miserable Harper, who  
For raking his vile Gridiron so,  
Instead of Marsyas had been flayed,  
And had his skin stripped o'er his head,  
Had not the nine corrupted Wenches  
Given sentence ' 'gainst their Consciences.  
As sor thy Daughters mighty grace,  
With her pale, fullmoon, platter-face,  
She such a very lovely piece is,  
Actaeon was pulled all to pieces  
By his own Hounds (ill mannered Curs,  
Who did like Dogs, but th' fault was hers)  
'Tis said for having seen her naked:  
But who think that was all, mistake it:  
For I can tell 'em in their ear,  
She made them worry him for fear  
He should tell tales, and blaze a story  
(She knew must needs be detractory)  
Of what a filthy fulsome Quean,  
He bathing had stark naked seen.  
For the Virginity (forsooth)  
She brags of, is a gross untruth;  
Alas a mere pretence, and what  
All women needs must titter at:  
For she could never, if a Maid,  
Practise so well the Midwife's Trade,  
And be so skilled in that affair,  
Without experience, we may swear;  
And therefore she has had her share  
Of doing too, I warrant her.  Latona. 
Well (Juno) well, I must dispense  
With this thy railing insolence,  
And she who is in Bed, and Throne,  
Great Jupiter's Companion,  
May say her will to any one.  
Or, else my haughty Dame, I wis,  
Thou durst not talk such stuff as this.  
Thou sett'st thy Tippet wondrous high,  
And rant'st, there is no coming nigh,  
See what a goodly port she bears,  
Making the pot with the two Ears!  
But yet ere long, I hold a groat,  
That we shall hear thee change thy note.  
This pride will have a fall, no doubt,  
And we shall see thee lour and pout,  
And your insulting Majesty  
Tame as a Lamb, sit down, and cry,  
When wounded with some mortal beauty,  
Your Goodman shall forget his duty,  
And go to Court her at th'expense  
Of Juno's due Benevolence.   

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 heartstrings too with laughing crack.  Apollo. 
Govern thy mirth a while, at least  
So long that I may hear the jest;  
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 Jest so pretty, and so odd is)  
Is napping ta'en with Beauty's Goddess.  Apollo. 
How ta'en! I prithee now be plainer,  
When, doing what, after what manner?  Merc. 
Just now, whilst Smug was Oxen shooing,  
And (in plain terms) at downright doing,  
The manner thus: you are to know—  
Oh I could die with laughing now!  Apollo. 
Thou tittring Calf I prithee 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 smoky Lymps did more than fear  
He had through Venus' water Gap  
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 than 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 Cuekold-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 jig to Pipe, and Tabour,  
Playing in consort, and time keeping:  
The Sun, who ever must be peeping,  
When she, Cocksure, thought none was nigh 'em,  
Through the Glass had luck to spy 'em,  
Which having done, away he goes;  
And, out of Envy, I suppose  
(Of that methinks it rankly savours)  
Tells me lame Vulcan straight, that Mavors  
Whilst he at work did sweat and swelter,  
Was thundering 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 tripped it with his Patten-shoo  
So nimbly, that to (make it short)  
He comes 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,  
Trapped 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 fluttered in the Net;  
And strongly did about him lay,  
Thinking by force to make his way:  
When finding 'twas beyond his stress,  
He even 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 mixed 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 Wife's Fame,  
Or any sense on's own disgrace,  
He all the Gods unto the place  
Very judiciously has brought,  
To show them what fine fish h'as caught;  
Where now they are, and all become  
Spectators of his Cuckoldom.  
In the mean time the loving pair,  
Seeing themselves thus caught i'th' Snare,  
Hang down their heads, and with shames wing,  
(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 damned 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 ravished with the Jest,  
And blushes no where does disclose,  
But where he always does in's Nose:  
Yet, though the sight be but unseemly,  
I envy this same Mars extremely:  
To be surprised in Bed with her,  
Who is of Goddesses the Star,  
With whom no other can compare,  
For sweetly excellently fair;  
Believe't Apollo is most rare!  
And then to be tied to her too,  
With Bonds that no one can undo;  
To her I say, than fairest fairer,  
O that's more ravishing and rarer!  Apollo. 
Thou speakest so feelingly, I wis,  
With such a tickling Emphasis,  
As thou'dst a mind to have it thought,  
Thou wouldst thyself 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 be'st not of my mind,  
I then (my friend) shall be inclined,  
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.   

DIALOGUE.  
Juno and Jupiter.  Jun. 
Ne'er stir (thou mighty God of Thunder)  
I cannot choose (methinks) but wonder  
How thou canst be content to have  
Such an effeminate drunken Knave  
As Bacchus is to call thee Father!  
If he were mine, I should much rather  
Adopt, than such a Rakehell own,  
A soaked Dutch Swabber for my Son.  
A drunken whelp, whose whole delight  
Is Swinish swilling day and night,  
With a loud Crew of hair-brain-Jades;  
A knot of very fine Comrades:  
Yet good enough for him they be,  
And far more Masculine than he:  
Whilst to their Tabors, and their Pipes;  
He jolts about his swagging Tripes,  
With his hair crisped so neat and fine,  
And crowned with Chaplets of the Vine,  
More like a Morris-dancer far,  
Than any Son of Jupiter.  Jup. 
Yet this effeminate drunken Sot,  
This Swabber, and I can't tell what,  
With which thy over liberal Clapper,  
Is pleased his merit to bespatter;  
Has in a very little space  
Conquered both Lydia and Thrace,  
Which are no common Victories:  
Nay of the Indies too made prize,  
After triumphantly he had  
Their husling King a Captive made,  
For all's Bravadoes, and his Rants,  
And his Lifeguard of Elephants.  
Is this a despicable Son,  
Who has so noble Conquests won?  
Nay, and (which yet appears more great)  
Without the pother, toil, and sweat,  
The wounds, the blood, the smart, and pain,  
With which all-others Conquests gain?  
This fellow subjugates the Earth  
In a perpetual roar of mirth,  
Of fiddling, dancing, wenching, drinking,  
When one would think he lest was thinking  
Of any such important matter;  
Or plotting things of that high nature:  
And often (which is stranger yet)  
At times when he seems most unfit  
Either to act, or to command;  
So drunk he can nor go, nor stand.  
And if at any time there are  
Any so impudent to dare  
Either to censure, or despise  
His Jovial Rites and Mysteries,  
He takes them in his Lime-twiggs strength,  
And teaches them so well to prate,  
That once (amongst a many other  
Revenges dire) he made a 
* Agave.  Mother  
For an impiety like this  
Tear her own Issue piece by piece:  
And was not this, I fain would hear,  
Worthy the Son of Jupiter!  
And if he be (as now adays  
Many young people take ill ways)  
A Toss-pot, and a drunken tossed,  
It always is at his own cost,  
And none (for all's Debauchery)  
Can say so much as black's his eye.  
Besides, if he such things can do  
When drunk as Drum, or Wheelbarrow,  
What would not this God of October  
Perform, I prithee, when he's sober?  Juno. 
Why this is wonderfully fine!  
wil't not proceed to praise (friend mine)  
His rare invention of the Vine,  
That parent of accursed Wine,  
After thou hast, with thine own eyes,  
Beheld the many miseries  
And mischief that the world disquiets,  
Fray's, Bloodsheds, Rescues, Routs, and Riots,  
Brawls, Brabbles, Skreeks, the Devil and all,  
Of which it is th'Original?  
And that it cost the first 
* ●…rius.  Boon-blade,  
To whom he this fine present made,  
Even his life, who had his brains  
Beat out his Coxcomb for his pains?  Jup. 
Pish! pish! thou talk'st thou knowst  
(not what!  
The Wine for this is not in fault;  
'Tis not the Wine, but the excess,  
That causes all this wickedness.  
Wine of itself's a generous Juice,  
Of which the right, and moderate use,  
Quickens man's wit, and cheers his heart,  
Gives vigour unto every part,  
And the whole man with fire supplies  
Both to design, and enterprise:  
But Jealousy and Envy make  
Your Ladyship thus ill to speak.  
There was a Semele, I trow,  
Who still sticks in thy stomach so,  
Thou else wouldst have more wit, or shame,  
Than thus indifferently to blame,  
With thy eternal bibble babble,  
What's ill, with what is commendable.   

DIALOGUE.  
Venus and Cupid.  Venus. 
COme on (Sir Love) since none is by  
But your small Deity and I,  
I must examine you a little,  
And tell me true unto a tittle  
Sirrah, it were your best, or else  
I'll jerk you with my Pantofles:  
How comes it Youth to pass, that you,  
Who all the Deities subdue,  
And at thy pleasure canst make Noddies  
Of every God, and every Goddess;  
Nay even me dost so inflame,  
Who (Shit-breech) thy own Mother am:  
But yet Dame Pallas canst not stir;  
As if (forsooth) alone for her  
Thou hadst no Arrows in thy Quiver,  
Nor yet a Torch to scinge her Liver?  Cupid. 
Why (to confess the truth) I spare her  
For no very good will I bear her:  
But she is such a strapping Jade,  
In sadness, Mother, I'm afraid  
To meddle with her: Tother day  
I for her in close ambush lay,  
And a convenient stand had got,  
Intending to have pincked her coat;  
And to that end had chose an Arrow  
(With which I scorn to miss a Sparrow)  
Had notched it, and without all dread  
Had drawn it almost to the head,  
When by the snapping of a twig,  
Espying me, she looked so big,  
And did her Lance so fiercely brandish,  
My face turned whiter than your hand is;  
And I such fear was struck withal,  
That Bow and Shaft from hand did fall;  
Nay, I myself came tumbling down,  
As she had shot me with a frown,  
So suddenly, that, but my wings  
By voluntary flutterings  
Broke the main fury of my fall,  
I think I'd broke my neck withal.  
And yet was not the swelch so ginger,  
But that I sprained my little finger.  Venus. 
But Mars more dreadful is than she  
For all her Lance, and Shield can be,  
His looks were terrible and grim;  
Yet thou art not afraid of him.  Cupid. 
I twice dare him e'er once offend her:  
He frankly does his arms surrender  
To my dispose, nay very often  
Calls me his Iron-sides to soften:  
Whereas this sour Pal-of-Ambree  
Huffs it, and looks askew at me,  
And when the domineering Drab  
Beheld me like a half fledged Squab,  
Come fluttering headlong from the Bough;  
Sirrah (quoth she) (thou Bastard thou)  
If with thy famous Archery,  
Thou dar'st to make a Butt of me,  
Assure thyself my mortal Javelin  
Shall in a moment be thy Navel in;  
Or I will catch thee up by one  
Of those fat stumps thou walkest upon,  
And give your Rogueship such a swing,  
As (Monsieur Chitty-face) shall fling  
You and your implements to Hell:  
And therefore (Don) consider well  
Whom thou attaqu'st. Go Bird at other  
Ladies of pleasure, shoot thy Mother,  
She such a constant friend to Love is,  
She'll take it for a Sonlike office:  
But levelly not at me thy tiler:  
For if thou dost (thou purblind killer)  
I've told thee what thou art to fear,  
And I will do it, as I'm here.  
Thus said, she (which not to dissemble)  
Indeed law Mother, made me tremble,  
And that too with so fierce a look,  
As my poor heart could no way brook:  
But like an Aspen leaf I shook,  
And stared, as I'd been planet-strook.  
Which face so terrible appears  
In that same steel Mon●… of hers.  
And then her 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 full of ●…ead,  
With 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ●…orgon's head,  
Which dressed up in a Tour of Snakes,  
The sight so much more horrid makes,  
That the remembrance makes me sweat;  
Uds fish! methinks I see it yet.  Venus. 
Dame Pallas, and Medusa's head  
Are mighty dangerous things indeed:  
But yet, for all this mighty fear,  
Thou nothing mak'st of Jupiter  
For all the Thunder he does bear.  
But (Sirrah) after these excuses,  
How comes it, that the Nine fair Muses,  
Who Gorgon's head, nor thunder have,  
Should scape thy darts, thou juggling Knave;  
Who, for all thou to do art able,  
Do still remain invulnerable.  Cupid. 
Why, faith I do those Damsels spare,  
Out of the reverence that I bear  
To their good singing; who when I  
Happen into their Company,  
Sing me, and that without entreaties,  
Such Sonnets, Madrigals, and Ditties,  
As ravish me to tell you plainly,  
For you know I love Ballads mainly.  
I than were an ingrateful Dog,  
Should I those Virgins set agog  
With a mad flame, that nothing dreads,  
And make them lose their Maidenheads:  
By which their voices every one  
Would be foul cracked, nay spoiled and gone.  Venus. 
But what has Dame Diana done,  
That thou shouldst let her too alone?  
Which way has she small (Quiver-bearer)  
Obliged thy Deity to spare her?  Cupid. 
Oh that Donzella, by relation  
Is ta'en up with another passion.  Venus. 
What passion's that of Love takes place?  Cupid. 
Why she's enamoured of the Chase.  
Wherein the lusty, well-breathed Dame  
So fast pursues the flying Game,  
The Hart, and Hind, the Buck, and Do,  
And skirs through Woods, and Forests so,  
That should I stalk at her a year,  
I ne'er should get a shoot at her.  
And to pursue her is no boot,  
The Damsel is too swift of foot:  
But for her Brother, that Prince Prigg,  
For all his dainty sanded Wigg,  
And that he shoots at fourteen-score,  
I think—  Venus. 
Thou needest to say no more;  
Thy bolts have oft his sides been thumping,  
I know thy meaning by thy mumping.   

The Judgement of Paris. DIALOGUE.  
Jupiter, Mercury, Paris, and the three Goddesses.  Jup. 
hay! (Lackey Mercury) appear!  Merc. 
An't like your Majesty, I'm here.  Jupit. 
Here (Sirrah) take this golden Apple  
And go where Paris tends his Cattle  
On Ida's top, to that smug Paris,  
Who all the Shepherds much more fair is,  
That smooth-faced Trojan, and acquaint him,  
That I of Beauty Judge appoint him,  
Because he is a pretty fellow,  
And sometimes makes his Neighbours yellow,  
And that he knows, though clad in frock,  
A Woman from a Weathercock.  
Come (fair ones) come, what are you doing?  
It is high time that you were going;  
I'll not be Judge, I swear, that's flat;  
I think I know enough for that:  
For if I should decide the strife  
Betwixt my Daughters and my Wife,  
Such matters I am so expert in,  
That two I should offend, that's certain!  
And to be plain, I mainly dread,  
Pulling an old house o'er my head.  
Then sithence I can please but one,  
I will e'en fairly let t'alone:  
For you are three that for it grapple,  
And you all know there's but one Apple,  
And I could wish, were't I that gave it,  
That every one of you might have it:  
But none of you need doubt t'appear  
Before this new Lord Chancellor,  
Don Paris, who is to decide  
Your controversy upon Ide,  
Though Chanceries admit no Jury;  
For he's a King's Son I assure ye,  
Descended from an honest Breed,  
Own Cousin here to Ganymede,  
So upright and so innocent,  
That you all aught to rest content,  
And have no reason to eschew him,  
But wholly put the matter to him.  Venus. 
For my pa●●, Father Jupiter,  
I am content, and am so far  
From questioning, much more refusing  
Any for Judge is of thy choosing,  
That I should never doubt the matter,  
Were Momus self the Arbitrator,  
And willingly to this submit,  
Who, if he have or eyes, or wit,  
Will surely understand the duty,  
That he, and all men owe to Beauty;  
And if my Rivals do consent,  
For my part I am most content.  Juno. 
I from the Sentence shall not budge,  
Though Mars himself were to be Judge,  
Although thy Paramour he be,  
And likely to incline to thee.  Jupit. 
Art thou Minerva too agreed?  
She blushes, and holds down her head.  
But modesty's the Maiden's grace;  
Besides I hate a brazen face,  
And thou wert virtuously reared,  
Maids should be seen, they say, not heard.  
Therefore I see thou'rt too content,  
And modest silence gives consent.  
Go on then in a happy hour,  
And let not those who lose look sour,  
Stomach th'award, nor bear a grudge  
To him whom I have made your Judge:  
For there is but one Golden Ball,  
Which can't be given to you all,  
Nor yet can several Beauties strike  
The young man's liking all alike,  
And therefore he must give't to one,  
Or keep't himself, and give it none.  Merc. 
Come now y'ave heard your charge, I  
(pray,  
Let us be jogging, Ladies gay,  
And set forth towards Phrygia;  
I'll lead the best and nearest way,  
That you may neither stop nor stay,  
For such wild Cattle often stray.  
And for the business of the Ball,  
Never concern yourselves at all,  
I know this Paris well enough,  
And of his dealing have had proof:  
He is a very honest Younker,  
A bonny Lad, and a grea●… Puncker  
As out on's sight did ever thrust his—  
I warrant you he'll do you justice.  Venus. 
The Character thou giv'st the Youth,  
Does even ravish me in truth,  
I've heard none such this many a day:  
But is he married, prithee say?  Merc. 
He was a Bachelor last Friday;  
But he a 
* O●…none.  Sweetheart has on Ida,  
If I mistake not; but she is  
Some course, some homespun, Rustic piece,  
That only now and then attends him,  
To draw the humour out offends him,  
A necessary piece of wealth,  
To keep his body in good health,  
With whom he plays to help digestion:  
But what makes thee to ask that question?  Venus. 
I know not how it came to pass,  
Of something else I thinking was.  Pallas. 
You nimble (Monsieur Merc'ry) there  
Captain Conductor, do you hear,  
You ill discharge your trust (I trow)  
To hold discourse, and whisper so  
With Madam Venus on the way;  
Is that in your Commission, pray?  Merc. 
Why, if to pass the time we chat,  
What can you (Madam) make of that?  
'Twas no such secret, never fear it,  
That we talked of, but you may hear it:  
She only asked if Paris were  
A married man, or Batcheller.  Pallas. 
And good-now, what is that to her?  Merc. 
Nay, what know I (my Lady sine)  
She says it was without design.  Pallas. 
And is he married?  Merc. 
I think not;  
For why should he be such a Sot,  
As to go tie himself to one,  
When all he speaks to are his own?  Pallas. 
What! is the fellow a mere Bumkin?  
A down right Clod, or has he something  
Of honour and ambition in him;  
For thou it seems haste often seen him?  Merc. 
Why faith! the Fellow being young,  
Of active limbs, and pretty strong,  
And being Son unto a King,  
I think he would give any thing,  
Nay (on my Conscience) half his Cattle,  
To signalise himself in Battle,  
And would be glad'mongst armed Bands,  
To show how tall he is on's hands,  
Always provided in the case  
The Roisters would not spoil his face.  Venus. 
Why, look you now, I can connive at  
Your two discoursing thus in private,  
Who though you have much longer chatted,  
Yet you see I'm not angry at it.  
I'm of another kind of nature,  
And no such froward, snappish Creature.  Merc. 
Nor is there cause here, I assure ye,  
To put your Ladyship in fury;  
For all she asked me was no more  
But just the same you did before,  
And I returned in answer too  
The same to her I did to you:  
But yet this little snapping Fray,  
Has helped well onward on our way;  
Helped us well onward only, said I!  
Why we're passed all the Stars already,  
And over Phrygia now are come,  
And so, fair Ladies, welcome home.  
And see, sweet Charges, I have spied  
The famous Mount y●…leped Ide,  
And now I come a little nigher,  
I think I see your Apple-squire.  Juno. 
Where abouts is he, prithee show,  
For hang me if I see him now?  Merc. 
A little on your lest hand, Madam,  
Driving his Flocks I think to shade 'um.  
O'th' side of the high Mountain yonder,  
You there may see your Costard-monger.  
His flock lies open to your view,  
And yonder is his cabin too.  Juno. 
Where is this Youngster with a Pox,  
I see no Cabins, nor no Flocks.  Merc. 
A better pair of eyes Jove send ye,  
I doubt your Boon-grace does offend ye,  
Your Maid'nhead hangs not in your light,  
Jove is too good a Carpet Knight;  
I ne'er saw th' like in all my days,  
Why he's as plain as Nose on face.  
Guide your eye by my finger here,  
Do you not see some Flocks appear  
Coming from out yond Rocks, pray speak,  
And one with Sheephook on his neck,  
Sending his Cur to fetch 'em in?  
They're plain enough sure to be seen!  Juno. 
Oh, now I see'm, is that the Youth?  Merc. 
That Madam's even he in truth:  
But now that we are got so near,  
I think it good discretion were,  
That ere we further go, we here  
Do make our stop, and light, for fear,  
Lest whilst on us he lest is studying,  
Fluttering about his ears o'th' sudden,  
We should perhaps affright him so  
That the poor Shepherd should not know,  
Nor what to think, nor what to do.  
And he, who to determine is,  
Of such a Tickle-point as this,  
Had need to have his wits about him.  Juno. 
Which if he have, I nothing doubt him.  
So now weare down, and now I pray,  
Let goody Venus lead the way,  
For doubtless she, of all the rest,  
Most reason has to know it best,  
As having oft to feed her vices,  
Been here to seek her friend Anchises.  Venus. 
Well Governess of heavens Commander,  
It is well known thy tongue's no slander,  
Slander to her who slander broaches,  
I scorn both thee, and thy reproaches.  Merc. 
Fie! (Ladies) fie! is this your breeding,  
To squabble now you come to pleading!  
But I shall this dispute decide,  
I my own self will be your guide;  
For I remember well when Jove  
Unto young Ganymede made love,  
I often on this Hill did light  
To see the little Favourite,  
To bring him Plums, and Mackaroons,  
Which welcome are to such small Grooms,  
And when he carried him away,  
I flew about 'em all the way,  
To hold him up, and we must be  
Near to the place; for now I see  
(Or I mistake) the very Rock  
Where he sat piping to his flock,  
When Jupiter in shape of Eagle,  
Came the young stripling to inveigle,  
And seizing him like any Sparrow,  
With his beak holding his Tiara  
To make him sure, as swift as Hobby  
He bore him into Heaven's Lobby,  
Whilst the poor Boy, half dead with fear,  
Writhed back to view his Spiriter,  
And then it was, that he let fall  
The Flute he piping was withal,  
When I, who will no gain let go by,  
Seeing my time, catched up the Oboe:  
But here is your Commissioner  
Of Oyer, and of Terminer,  
Let's civilly salute him, pray,  
And give his Lordship time o'th' day.  
Good day, thou top of Shepherd's Fame.  Paris. 
To thee (fair Son) I wish the same.  
What Ladies are these pretty faces,  
Thou leadest into these desert places?  
They are too fine, and tender sure,  
These scratching Brambles to endure.  Merc. 
Ladies! thou (Paris) moov'st my laughter,  
They're Deities every Mother's Daughter.  
You have before you, I'd have you know,  
Venus, Minerva, and Queen Juno.  
'Tis truth I tell you (Sir) and I  
Am Cavaliero Mercury.  
What! thou turn'st colour (my good friend)  
And seem'st to be at thy wit's end;  
Take courage (Paris) I exhort thee,  
We are not hither come to hurt thee;  
But'cause thy Judgement we approve,  
'Bove others in affairs of Love,  
And know thee for a Fornicator,  
We come to make thee Arbitrator,  
Of a long suit these Goddesses  
Depending have i'th' Common-pleas,  
About priority of Beauty:  
And therefore (Paris) do thy duty.  
As to the rest the Victor's meed,  
Thou may'st about this Apple read.  Paris. 
Let's see't. Hump! what is written here?  
Give this unto the Fairest Fair.  
Great Gods! how should a mortal wit  
Be able to determine it!  
Too mean man's skill without dispute is,  
To judge of your immortal Beauties!  
To judge of such Celestial Lasses,  
A Swains capacity surpasses!  
Or if that any humane wit  
Were capable of doing it,  
Some Courtier it should be no doubt,  
Much rather than a Collen Clout.  
If I were put to it to tell  
Which of my sheep does bear the Bell;  
Or to point out the fairest Goat;  
I'd guests with any for a Groat;  
And I have such good Judgement in it,  
That peradventure I might win it:  
But these are Beauties so divine,  
And all with such perfections shine,  
That a man's eye has much ado  
T'leave one to look on th'other two:  
But with the first's so captivated,  
From thence he hardly can translate it;  
But 'tis there riveted, concluding  
That fairest is without disputing.  
Besides (to speak the truth) my sight  
So dazzled is with so much light  
Of Heavenly Beauty, that I vow.  
Two eyes methinks are not enough;  
But I at such a time as this  
Would be all eyes, as Argus is,  
With fuller sight to look upon  
So much, so rare perfections.  
And yet, even in that state, I fear,  
One being wife to Jupiter,  
The other two his Daughters, I  
Should do very imprudently,  
In a contest of this high nature,  
As this for preference of Feature,  
Either to meddle, or to make:  
But as they brew, so let 'em bake.  Merc. 
You sometimes may discretion use,  
But here you can nor will, nor choose;  
Jupiter says it shall be so,  
And what that means you needs must know.  
'Tis then in vain to prate, and babble,  
His orders are irrevocable.  Paris. 
Why then have at 'um! and let those  
Whose luck 'twill be the prize to lose,  
Blame their ill fortune, and not me;  
For I can please but one of three.  Merc. 
Nay they're all bound to that already,  
To judgement therefore, and be speedy.  Paris. 
Why seeing that it must be so,  
Stand out (fair Ladies) all a-row:  
But first (Sir Mercury) I would know  
If I may see 'em naked or no:  
For women's chief perfections do  
Lie underneath their clothes below,  
Which they must either naked show,  
And strip themselves from top to toe,  
And every Goddess lay her tail  
As bare, and naked as my nail,  
That I may see out of the case,  
All things as well as hands as face;  
Or I shall never be so wise,  
Where I can have no use of eyes,  
With Justice to award the prize.  Merc. 
Why thou art Dominus factotum,  
And may'st at will unpetticoat 'um.  Paris. 
Why then, if I may rule the roast,  
I affect naked women most,  
And therefore Merc'ry so present 'em,  
I may see all that Jove has sent 'um.  Merc. 
Come Ladies, blanche you to your skins,  
'Tis but a penance for your sins,  
And what you are obliged to do;  
Your Governor will have it so.  
And whilst your Judge with learing eyes  
Into each chink and cranny pries,  
Of all your curiosities,  
I'll be so civil, or so wise,  
Lest any mischief should arise,  
To turn my back, which is of all  
Respects the most unnatural;  
And whilst your treasures you display,  
Turn my Calves-head another way.  Venus. 
Why an't be for your Worship's ease,  
You may even do so if you please:  
But otherwise (my modest Don)  
Some here can abide looking on,  
And though you are a nimble one,  
Let our apparel but alone,  
And there is nothing I dare say,  
Your modesty can steal away.  
In the mean time Gramercy Paris!  
He loves I see that play that fair is,  
And most judiciously has spoken;  
He will not buy a Pig a poke in:  
But wisely will bring all things out,  
And see within doors, and without,  
And I will show thee such a sight,  
That if thou hast an appetite,  
And art indeed a true bred Cock,  
When I pull off my Cambric Smock,  
Shall make thee glory in thy being,  
And bless Jove for thy sense of Seeing:  
Thou'lt then see I not only have  
Eyes, cheeks, and lips, that can enslave,  
And outward beauties (or else some lie)  
As captivating, and as comely,  
As either Juno's here, or hers,  
Who stand my fair Competitors:  
But such a skin so smooth and supple,  
Of legs so white a parting couple,  
Such knees, such thighs, and such a Bumm,  
And such a, such a Modicum,  
Shall make thy melting mouth to water,  
Perhaps by fits for seven years aster.  Pal. 
Take heed (young Paris) thou'rt a Novice,  
And that the cunning Dame of Love is;  
Look not upon her, 'tis not best,  
Until she have put off her Cest;  
For she's a Sorceress, and carries  
Enchantments in it, Monsieur Paris.  
She's nought but treachery and treason,  
Nor to say truly is it reason,  
Now that her Beauty's brought to th' test,  
That she should come so sinely dressed,  
Like a patched Minx, and painted Whore:  
But when she comes her Judge before,  
As she came into th' world, I take it,  
Should appear open, plain, and naked,  
Stripped of her pounce, and devices,  
Her shifts, her tricks, and artifices.  Paris. 
Troth she speaks reason, come lay by  
That tawdry Girdle presently.  Venus. 
Make her her Helmet then lay by,  
She shall be stripped as well as I,  
There's no enchantment in my Cest:  
But that same Cask has such a Crest,  
As is enough to look on it,  
To fright a Shepherd out on's wit.  
Sure she's afraid that her blue eyes  
Want power to obtain the prize,  
And if she finds they cannot do't,  
She means to fright, or beat thee to't,  
And I commend her wisdom truly,  
For her blue eyes will come off blewly.  Pallas. 
No, I as thee as soon will strip,  
And for to please your Ladyship,  
There lies the over-awing Crest.  Venus. 
'Tis very brave, and there's my Cest.  Juno. 
Fie, what a tedious work you make it,  
Let's strip, I long to be stark naked;  
And now we naked are (Sir Paris)  
Consider pray which the most fair is.  Paris. 
I marry here's a sight worth seeing,  
Though one had spent's estate in seeing.  
Oh what rare flesh, what excellencies  
What dainty, Super-dainty wenches,  
What a brave Lass is Madam Pall!  
What state does Juno move withal!  
By which 'tis evident they are,  
Daughter and Wife to Jupiter.  
But Venus is indeed a Pearl;  
Did ever man see such a Girl?  
Oh what a lovely face is there!  
What crisped locks of Amber hair!  
What a white neck! what Breasts! what shoulders!  
Belly! and Back to catch beholders!  
What hips! what haunches! what care thighs!  
Enough to make the dead to rise!  
To which, in love I'm not so simple,  
But to observe she has a dimple,  
And such a one, as who would not  
Put all his flesh into the Pot!  
In fine (as good Sir Martin says)  
I have not wit enough to praise  
The several Beauties, and the Graces,  
Adorn them all in all their places.  
The sight whereof's a happiness  
Too great for tongue, or pen t'express:  
Nay, any one of them would be  
Too much for mortal eye to see.  
Yet since the mighty Jupiter  
Has my poor Judgement prized so far,  
As simple me a Judge to make;  
That in my choice I mayn't mistake,  
And thrust, like over-greedy Sot,  
My Spoon into th'wrong Porridge-pot,  
Better to manifest my Art,  
I'll study every one apart,  
And view 'em one by one at leisure,  
(Which also will prolong my pleasure.)  
For in beholding them in Muster,  
They do confound me so with lustre,  
I shall my reputation loose,  
And ne'er know rightly how to choose.  Venus. 
Content, my cause I nothing doubt,  
And stare till both thy eyes start out.  Paris. 
Why then let Madam Juno stay,  
She's the best Woman (by my fah)  
And whilst her beauties I admire,  
I'll have the other two retire.  Juno. 
Come on (Sir Paris) now survey me,  
And turn me round, as thou wouldst ha' me,  
I'll stand, or lie, as thou dost pray me,  
And mop too, if thou'lt not betray me.  
But when thou round about haste ey'd-me,  
High, low, between, and every side me,  
(Young Paris) I would thee advise,  
In loving and in courteous wise,  
To think that thy preferment lies,  
In thy awarding me the prize.  
And though I need not bribe, nor sue,  
For that I know to be my due;  
Yet if thou'lt favour me this day,  
I'll make thee King of Asia.  Paris. 
Troth I am not ambitious Madam,  
And as for Kingdoms if I had 'em,  
To King-it passes my poor skill,  
And I should be a Shepherd still:  
But this the short is, and the long,  
I'll do your Majesty no wrong,  
And now I've seen what I desire,  
Be pleased I pray you to retire;  
And send me Lady Pallas hither,  
For I can't deal with two together.  Pallas. 
Here (thou best Judge of best deserts)  
Contemplate on Minerva's parts;  
I hope, or thou deservest whipping,  
Thou wilt give me the golden Pippin,  
Which if thou dost (Youth mark me well)  
I'll render thee invincible:  
And whether thou with doughty Knight,  
Armed, or unarmed, shalt enter flight;  
Nay with a Gyait, or an Ettin,  
Thou ever shalt be sure to beat him.  Paris. 
Lady, I never did delight in  
This scurvy dangerous thing, called fight,  
And therefore shall not be a dealer  
In the commodity called valour.  
Besides my Father's Kingdoms are  
Quiet (thanks be to Jove) from War;  
I with a Tailor played indeed  
At Cudgels, but he broke my head:  
And have such scurvy luck in Battle,  
I rather had by half tend Cattle:  
But though I'm but a Country peasant,  
I'll not be bribed with gift, nor present,  
And yet I can't but thank you still  
(Fine Madam) for your great good will,  
Which I so kindly take, I swear,  
My Equity you need not fear:  
For I'll do Justice, right or wrong,  
And there's an end of an old Song.  
But to advise you I'll be bold,  
Pray don your clothes for taking cold,  
And your steel Cap will do no harm,  
To keep your learned Headpiece warm,  
And pray as hence you do go from me,  
Send Madam Venus hither to me.  Venus. 
Here's Venus that you call for so;  
Survey me now from top to toe,  
And if thou findest when thou hast viewed me,  
Any one wrinkle more than shooed be,  
Or if my Bum have any flaws in't,  
I'll give thee leave to put thy nose in't.  
I'll tell thee without fraud or guile,  
I have, and for no little while,  
(Having ta'en note of thy desert,  
And what a pretty fellow thouart,  
Thy youth, thy feature, shape, and fashion)  
Had on thee very great compassion,  
To see thee tending rotten flocks  
Amongst these solitary rocks;  
Great Cities, nor Assemblies heeding,  
Where young men use to get their breeding:  
But wasting here thy time in Caverns,  
Which would be better spent in Taverns.  
What's to be learned amongst these Groves,  
By still conversing with thy Droves,  
I prithee say, and do not lie,  
But ignorance, and clownery!  
What pleasure's in this rural life!  
'Tis time that thou hadst got a wife,  
Or which is better a fine Miss:  
Not some course Sunburnt Frull, I wis.  
But of famed Argos some rare piece,  
Of Corinth, or some Town in Greece,  
Such as the Spartan Helen is,  
Her Sex's pride and Masterpiece,  
As handsome Paris is of his.  
And who (I know it) is as free,  
Buxom, and amorous as he.  
And if the little wanton Tit  
But saw thee once, I'm sure of it,  
She would both home and Husband quit  
To follow thee for dainty Bit;  
She would both love and long so sore.  
Didst never hear of her before?  Paris. 
No, never syllable (I vow)  
But very fain would hear it now.  Venus. 
Why, she is daughter to that 
* Leda.  fair  
For whom our amorous Jupiter  
Transformed himself into a Swan,  
Her Maidenhead for to trapan.  Paris. 
And is she wonderfully fair?  Venus. 
Why what a Country question's there!  
How should she, canst thou think, be other,  
Having a Swan unto her Mother?  
Nor is she gross, you may suppose,  
Whom an eggshell did once enclose.  
Hadst seen her once wrestle a prize  
Naked, as 'tis her Country guise,  
I dare most confidently swear,  
Thou'dst long to try a fall with her.  
Already they're at wars about her,  
For Theseus like a boisterous suitor,  
To Spirit her away made bold,  
When she was but poor ten years old,  
A little snotty Chitterling;  
But now she's quite another thing.  
A Miracle I do protest,  
Her Beauty with her Age's increased,  
That she is now the only Miss  
Of all the spruce young blades of Greece.  
A thousand Suitors all have sought her,  
But Menelaus now has got her;  
Yet for all that, show me but favour  
And say the word, and thou shalt have her.  Par. 
How can I have her (that's a Jest!)  
When she is married thou sayst?  Venus 
Is that a thing to be so wondered?  
'Tis the least matter of a hundred;  
For that Man never scratch thy pate,  
I can do greater Feats than that.  
In the mean time (Sir) by your leave,  
You're a mere Novice I perceive.  Paris. 
But which way you intent to go  
About it (Madam) I would know.  Venus. 
Why the design of it is this,  
Thou shalt go travel into Greece,  
Wherein thy main pretence shall be  
Only for curiosity,  
To see what thou hast heard the Fame on:  
And when thou comest to Lacedaemon,  
Ere thou'rt well got into thy Inn,  
I'm certain that the lovely Queen  
Will forthwith make her Hen-pecked Spouse,  
Send to invite thee to his House,  
Which is as fair, as fair can be;  
And for the rest leave that to me.  Paris. 
Why I will try my luck in Goddle;  
But it want sink into my noddle  
That such an admirable piece,  
The very flower, and pride of Greece,  
And a great Queen, as that you mean,  
Should be so impudent a Quean,  
To leave her Country, and her Honey,  
To whom she's joined in Matrimony,  
And run away with such a one  
As I, a stranger, and unknown.  Venus. 
Why, I confess it something odd is,  
But there's the power of a Goddess.  
And that's a truck that I defy  
Best on'um all to do but I.  
Now I two Sons have you must know,  
Which these miraculous feats can do:  
Of which the one by Art is able  
To make a party amiable,  
And th'other has the power to move,  
Who sees that loveliness to love.  
In order then to this design  
I mean to place these Brats of mine,  
Who are t'effect this enterprise,  
One of them (Paris) in thine eyes,  
And th'other I'll convey by art  
Into fair Helen's tender heart:  
Which being ordered (by my troth)  
The Devil must be in you both,  
If what remains, do want fulfilling,  
When both of you are made so willing.  
But yet on surer grounds to go  
(For One can't be too sure you know)  
I'll give thee two strings to thy Bow,  
And thou shalt have with thee the Graces,  
(Three very pretty little Lasses,  
Who can do much in such like Cases)  
In thy adventure to attend thee,  
Whose Services will much befriend thee;  
For they to grace thee not despising,  
Shall daily wait upon thy rising,  
(And never Asian Cavaliers  
Could boast they had such Chambrieres)  
Where dressing thee each day, the while  
One tricks thy face in winning smiles,  
With greater power to accost her;  
Th'others in such a swimming posture  
Thy arms, and hands, thy legs, and feet,  
In such a graceful mean shall set,  
As shall if Nell have any sense,  
So tickle her Concupiscence,  
That she will run the whole world over  
With such a rare accomplished Lover.  Par. 
These are fine promises indeed;  
And though Jove knows how I shall speed,  
Yet I'm so ravished with this gear,  
That I already burn to see'r;  
And you have (Madam) set m'ambition  
So hot upon this Expedition,  
That'ere a man can say what's this,  
Methinks I'm travelling to Greece,  
Am come to Sparta, safe as may be,  
Have seen, attacqut and won the Lady;  
Who having with her Jewels lined me,  
And being lightly whipped behind me,  
None to our Journey being privy,  
Am posting her to Troy Tantivy,  
All which does in my mind so run,  
That I am mad it is not done.  Venus 
Soft! do not spur too fast your dapple,  
Till first y'ave given me the Apple.  
There lies my Service's rewarding,  
That I must have or else no bargain.  
Then give it me, I prithee do.  
Come, come, thou know'st it is my due,  
I else shall either fret, and fume, or  
So musty be, and out of humour,  
That the event is to be doubted,  
ist ne'er go cheerfully about it.  
And then be sure no good can come,  
For one must never go Humdrum  
About so nice a work as this is;  
But it is mettle carries Misses,  
And therefore without more protraction,  
Give me this little satisfaction,  
And (Paris) when thou comest to bedding,  
Oh how I'll trip it at thy wedding.  Paris. 
Nay, you're a Jigger, we all know;  
But if you should deceive me now!  Venus. 
Who, I deceive thee! never fear me:  
But if thou art distrustful, swear me.  Paris. 
No, that security too common,  
Besides, Oaths never bind a woman:  
But (Madam) if you can afford  
Once more to promise on your word,  
That I shall have this bonny Nelly,  
More of my mind I then shall tell ye.  Venus. 
Why then know all men by these presents,  
That spite of Princes, Courtiers, Peasants,  
And all, both man and woman kind,  
I here myself most firmly bind,  
To give thee Helen, pride of Greece,  
To be thine own Lyndabrides.  
That I will pay down Sparta's Spouse  
In the now very dwelling House  
Of Signior Priam's King of Troy,  
And then (Sir Paris) give you joy.  
Nay, I do bind myself beside,  
To be in person mine thy Guide,  
And will (since thy Wit won't suffice)  
Carry on the whole enterprise.  Paris. 
You my request are gone beyond,  
I (Madam) did demand no Bond.  
And will you bring your Cupids too,  
(My lovely Dame) along with you?  Venus. 
Pish! never doubt it man! I'll do't,  
Desire, and Hymen too to boot.  Paris. 
Then call the others in that went hence,  
That I may now proceed to Sentence.  
Fair Goddesses I pray draw near.  
Jupiter has employed me here,  
In such a very nice affair,  
So much indeed against the hair,  
That had his Majesty thought fit  
To have exempted me from it,  
I would have given (or I'm a Knave)  
A score of the best Ewes I have:  
But since he's pleased to have it so,  
I must perforce obey you know;  
Yet ere I do pronounce the Sentence,  
Let me upon this small acquaintance,  
Entreat the losers to be civil,  
And at my hands not take it evil  
If I Like one above the rest,  
I cannot help it I protest.  
Here is a Golden Apple here,  
Which must be thought such price to bear  
(Through cunning o'th' malicious 
* The Goddess Discordia.  Donor)  
That none forsooth must be the owner,  
But she who is the fairest fair;  
When from my heart, I vow and swear,  
And without fraud, or flattery,  
There is not one of all you three,  
For whom a Bushel's not too few,  
Had but your Beauties half their due.  
Which Beauties (gentle Madams) I  
Consider'd have impartially,  
And find them all so excellent,  
That truly I could be content,  
Were it consistent with my duty,  
To give to each the prize of Beauty:  
But I am tied, when all is done,  
T'award it only unto one.  
Now Venus being in those parts,  
Which have the greatest power o'er hearts,  
The most exactly shaped of all,  
I judge to her the Golden Ball.  Juno. 
Learnedly spoke, I had not cared  
If Pallas here had been preferred;  
But to bestow it on that Trapes,  
It mads me!  Pallas. 
Hang him Jack an-apes.   

DIALOGUE.  
Mars and Mercury.  Mars. 
HAst heard o'th'loud Rhodomontade  
That t'other day Jupiter made?  
Which was, that if we on this fashion,  
Daily provoked his indignation;  
He would, if angered once again,  
From Heaven to Earth let down a Chain,  
With which he up to him would hale  
Mankind, the Elements, and all,  
With such a mighty strength, that though  
We all had hold of it below,  
And pulled to stay't, we could not do't,  
But he would pull us up to boot.  
Now I must needs confess, no one  
Of all us Deities alone,  
Is able near, unless he list,  
To grapple with his Mutton-fist:  
And he will lose, whoever vies  
With him at any Exercise:  
But to imagine, that all we  
So brave a jolly Company,  
Joined altogether, should not be  
As strong, nay stronger far than he,  
In truth, in him I do conceive it  
An arrogancy to believe it,  
And vanity devoid of wit,  
So openly to publish it.  
And yet for all his mighty vaunting,  
His domineering, and his ranting,  
All of the Gods, and I and you know,  
When Neptune, Pallas, and Queen Juno,  
By combination had trapan'd him,  
And had intended to have chained him;  
He'd much ado, though his strength such is,  
To disengage him from their clutches.  
Nor had he done it for all that  
(Though now he vapour can and prate)  
For all his striving, and his struggling,  
His writhing, wriggling, and his juggling,  
Nor all his strength, which now so great is;  
Had not his old friend, Madam Thetis,  
In time of danger sent him there,  
Briareus the Hot-cockle player,  
With a whole hundred Cluster-fists  
To disengage him from the Lists.  
And by my faith he came in season  
To rescue him from the High-treason,  
Or else with this my huffing Don,  
I know not how it would have gone.  Merc. 
Prithee hanck up thy tongue again,  
And do not give it so much rain.  
These words do make my ears to tingle.  
'Tis well that thou and I are single;  
This language is unsafe, I swear,  
For thee to speak, or me to hear.  Mars. 
Dost think I have so little wit  
To talk thus unto all I meet?  
No friend, I wiser am than fo,  
I know well whom I speak it to,  
One, who not only has a Talon  
In speaking, but in being silent;  
But should another chance to come  
Of Mavors, not a word but Mum.   

DIALOGUE.  
Pan and Mercury.  Pan. 
GOod morrow (Father!) how dost do?  Mer. 
Good morrow Son, since 'tmust be so,  
But why call'st thou me Father trow?  
For to behold those goodly horns,  
That pied beard, which thy face adorns,  
That single wagging at thy Butt,  
Those Camb●…ils, and that cloven foot,  
Thou dost much more (not to dissemble)  
A He-Goat, than a God resemble.  Pan. 
'Tis very well! but all this while  
Thou thine own Issue dost revile,  
And giv'st thyself many fowl Rubs.  
Prithee what's he that gets such Cubs?  
For all this handsome shape you see  
Came from my Father, and thou'rt he.  Mer. 
I would thou couldst persuade me to it!  
But thou'lt have much ado to do i●….  
I'll make much of myself, I'd need,  
If but in reverence to my breed.  
But if thy happy (Sire) I am,  
Who the great Devil was thy Dam?  
Did I not meet with some Shee-Goat  
Travested in a petticoat?  
For never sure did woman bear  
So uncouth a prodigious Heir.  Pan. 
No (Father) I would have thee know't,  
Thou didst not couple with a Goat,  
thoust not forgot, yet I dare say,  
How once in fair Arcadia  
With beastly lust, and barbarous power,  
Thou didst a pretty Maid deflower!  
What needest thou bite thy fingers ends,  
I only speak it amongst friends?  
It is Penelope I mean.  Merc. 
I do remember such a Quean,  
A pretty Girl: but how could she  
Bring out so fowl a Beast as thee,  
More like a Devil than like me?  Pan. 
Nay, I'm as like my Dad, in sooth,  
As he had spit me out on's mouth,  
That is, as like what then thou wert,  
When thou play'dst that uncivil part:  
For then, if thoust it not forgot,  
Thou turnd'st thyself into a Goat  
With a face fowl as any Vizor,  
In policy for to surprise her.  Merc. 
Yes, I remember, out upon it!  
But troth I am ashamed to own it.  Pan. 
Faith for the Rape I cannot blame ye;  
But as for me, I shall not shame ye,  
And few there are preferred before me:  
For besides that, they do adore me  
All o'er Arcadia, where possessed  
I am of thousand Flocks at least.  
My qualities have purchased Fame:  
For Doctor I of Music am,  
And more have made my valour known  
In the great field of Marathon,  
For which good service the Athenians  
Have given me a fine convenience  
Wherein to sit, eat, drink, or snort,  
A Grotto underneath their Fort,  
Where thou shalt see, if e'er th'com'st thither,  
How highly I am honoured (Father.)  Merc. 
What art thou married?  Pan. 
No not yet,  
I hitherto have had more wit.  Merc. 
I wonder at it not, in truth,  
For who'd have such a sweet faced youth?  Pan. 
Pish! had I nothing else to do,  
(Father) I could have Wives enough,  
And therefore that's a vain Objection:  
But I've so amorous a Complexion,  
And do with love so scald and burn,  
One Wife would never serve my turn.  Merc. 
Thou bugger'st then the Goats I doubt.  Pan. 
Good words! no I'm not so put too't;  
Echo, and pities, full of blisses,  
Are both content to be my Misses,  
And all the Rout of Bacchanals,  
Come with a powder when Pan calls.  
By which (good Father) you may know  
I better spend my time than so.  Mer. 
Believe't they're wondrous kind to thee,  
And 'tis no wonder though they be,  
thoust such a charming Phisnomy.  
But I have a request unto thee  
Will do me good, and no harm do thee,  
It is so small; which is, that seeing  
I was so blest to give thee being,  
Thou in return wilt be so civil  
As not to pay my good with evil,  
But wheresoever we chance to meet  
In house, or field, or in the street,  
So oft as we shall come together  
Thou do forbear to call me Father;  
For not to mince the verity,  
I'm damnably ashamed of thee:  
But for this once shake hands and part,  
And so farewell with all my heart.   

DIALOGUE.  
Apollo and Bacchus.  Apollo. 
Who'd think that such a Jackanapes as  
Cupid, the mighty Tooled Priapus,  
And Androginus, of all others  
Should all of the same womb be brothers,  
Being so much unlike in feature,  
In humour, and in shape, and stature.  
For once a little Goddikin,  
No bigger than a Skittle-pin,  
Yet little as he is can scare-us,  
If he once takes his Bow and Arrows,  
And of the other two, the latter  
Can make nor Man's, nor Maiden's water,  
The tother somewhere is more tall  
By handfuls, than the best on's all.  Bacchus. 
Why this diversity each gathers,  
From the variety of Fathers,  
Though every day indeed presents  
As great and strange a difference,  
Even amongst those who had no other  
But the same Father, and same Mother.  Apollo. 
Yet 'tis quite otherwise you see  
Betwixt my Sister Die and me,  
Who the same virtues have, and vices,  
And follow the same exercises.  Bacchus. 
But that mad Hack in petticoats,  
In Scythia's busy cutting throats,  
Whilst thou dost men of money fleece,  
With giving Physic here in Greece,  
And pray what Sympathy's in this?  Apollo. 
Why Bacchus dost thou think that she  
Takes a delight in cruelty,  
In hearing blood in throats to rottle,  
Like liquor from a strait-mouthed Bottle?  
Alas, she only does it, she  
Merely out of complacency,  
T'accommodate herself t'th ' fashion,  
And humour of that barbarous Nation;  
At which she takes so great offence,  
That she but waits to steal from thence,  
When any Grecian ship comes thither,  
To take her in, and bring her hither.  Bacchus. 
Why truly then I do commend her,  
And a good gale of wind Jove send her.  
In the mean time I needs must tell you  
Priapus is a beastly fellow:  
For (no one being by but us)  
Calling at's house at Lampsacus,  
After we'd eaten well, and much,  
And quaffed it smartly upsy-Dutch,  
It being pretty coldish weather,  
He needs would have us lie together;  
And so we did, when in the Night,  
When least (I swear) I dreamt of it,  
Betwixt some twelve and one a Clock,  
He tilts his Tantrum at my Nock,  
Till with extremity of pain  
He plainly made me roar again.  Apollo. 
A very edifying story!  
And what did you, whilst he did boar ye?  Bac. 
What should I do, but make the best on't,  
I only laughed, and made a jest on't.  Ap. 
Some would perhaps have kept a pother:  
But thou I think couldst do no other,  
But put on patience, and lie still.  
Alas! he did it in good will,  
And it had been ill nature in thee  
When he good meat and drink had g'in thee,  
For to grudge him who fed thee gratis,  
So small a courtesy as that is.  
Besides, he great temptations had;  
For thou'rt a pretty smock-faced Lad.  Bacchus. 
But yet o'th' two (my friend Apollo)  
Thou art by much the prettier fellow,  
And therefore if he once make suit t'ee  
To lie in's house, faith look about ye.  Apol. 
Well! well! but he were best take heed  
How he attaques my Maidenhead.  
His mighty Trapstick cannot scare-us;  
For we have good Yew-bow, and Arrows,  
As well as a white Wig to tempt him,  
And if he draw, he will repent him.  
Besides, I'm so set round with light,  
And am withal so quick of sight,  
That much I do not need to fear,  
To be surprised in my Rear.   

DIALOGUE.  
Mercury, and his Mother Maya.  Merc. 
BEstow your counsel on some other,  
'Tis labour lost on me (good Mother)  
For e'er I'll lead the life I do,  
And be this Drudge, I tell you true,  
And so I'll tell old Father Lasher,  
I am resolved I'll even turn Thrasher.  
S'fish! I'm a slave, a packhorse made,  
Would I'd been Apprentice to a Trade;  
Or bred up with some honest Farmer,  
Who would have clad me perhaps warmer,  
Though not so fine, and given me rest,  
And not have worked me like a Beast?  
A God Quotha! No Deity  
Was ever sure so used as I:  
But e'er this life I'll longer lead,  
I'll stroll for Lower, or beg my bread,  
And run, nay fly, let who will hear me,  
Far as my legs, or wings will bear me.  Maya. 
Nay prithee Son, govern thy passion,  
And do not talk of this wild fashion.  Merc. 
Why should I not speak out (forsooth)  
So long as I speak nought but truth?  
Tut! tut! I scorn to mince the matter;  
I was not bred to lie, and flatter,  
And being abused thus I must speak,  
And ease my heart, or it will break.  
I speak no Treason. Have I not  
Very good reason to find fault,  
When Jupiter does force on me  
More work, more toil, and drudgery  
(Which, Mother, cannot be denied)  
Than upon all the Gods beside?  
First, I by spring of day must come  
To wash, and rub the dining Room,  
(Which does not always smell of Amber:)  
Next, I must clean the Council Chamber,  
And dust the Wooll-packs; after that  
I must go dress the Rooms of State,  
Brush Cushions, Chairs, and footcloths too,  
(Which takes up no small time to do:)  
Nay, all this yet will not suffice,  
But I must sweep the Galleries,  
Though others are more fit to do't,  
The Lobbies, and back Stairs to boot;  
Then having swept my face of fat,  
Powdered, and put on clean Cravat,  
I must i'th' Antichamber wait  
Jupiter's rising, to receive  
Such orders as he is pleased to give.  
(Which ever numerous are no doubt)  
And then must carry them about,  
Work that requires a supple Hamm.  
Then Steward I o'th' Household am,  
Yes, and Cupbearer too, at least  
As often as he makes a Feast,  
And had that office every day  
Till Ganymede came into play.  
But all this work is nothing yet,  
And I could well away with it:  
But that with which I'm most oppressed,  
Is that at night, when all's released,  
And every one goes to his rest,  
No one but me employ he can  
To convoy a great Caravan  
Of palefaced dead folks unto Hell;  
Company that i'th' Night might well  
The stoutest God in Heaven daunt.  
Where also before Rhadamant  
I must indite and prosecute 'em,  
Which e'er by Law we can confute 'em,  
Repeating every little Crime,  
Does take up such a world of time,  
The day is ready for to peep in:  
And then what time have I to sleep in?  
And yet all this, this Jupiter  
Whom I have served so many year  
(Wherein h'as had good service on me)  
The conscience has to impose upon me,  
As not enough employed I were  
In being Sergeant, Orator,  
Cupbearer, Wrestler, and what not,  
But I must on these errands troth,  
To be deprived of the rest  
Mortals allow to every Beast.  
Castor and Pollux each one knows,  
By turns are suffered to repose.  
But I am tossed like Tennis-ball,  
And am allowed no rest at all.  
But am dispatched both Morn and Even,  
From Heaven to Earth, from Earth to Heaven:  
Whilst Bacchus here, and Hercules,  
Who are no Sons of Goddesses  
As I am, but more meanly born  
Of wretched Mortals, and forlorn,  
At great Jove's board in feast and play,  
Merrily pass the time away.  
I need had of a Horse to ride on,  
For I'm but just now come from Sidon,  
Where I have with Europa been;  
But I am sent away again  
To Argos with another How-d'ee  
To Danae a wretched Dowdy,  
When I am almost spent I vow t'ee.  
Nay more than that, I must, they say,  
Make too Boeotia in my way  
To visit there Antiopa.  
But flatly I've refused to do it;  
For (Mother) I'll not melt my Suet  
For no good words that can be given,  
Nor ne'er a Jupiter in Heaven.  
And though ('tis true) he keeps me brave,  
On's service I such comfort have,  
I sometimes would be sold a slave,  
And run the risk of all disaster,  
Fall what fall can to change my Master.  Maya. 
Come prithee moderate thy passion,  
These are but words of indignation.  
I'll have no talk of parting neither.  
What! what! you must obey your Father,  
And never think he does you wrong:  
You must take pains too whilst y'are young,  
And do whate'er he bids you do,  
And fear not you'll have Sons enough,  
When you are old to work for you.  
I prithee then no longer stand,  
But go, and execute's command.  
I know he's choleric if thwarted,  
And to be apt to be transported.  
Love too is such an odd disease,  
That Lovers are most hard to please;  
Will always have their own fond ways,  
And are impatient of Delays.   

DIALOGUE.  
Jupiter and Sol,  J. 
WHy thou unlucky senseless fool,  
Thou Dunce, thou Loggerhead, thou Owl!  
thoust made fine work here, hast thou not?  
To go and trust thy Chariot  
With a young giddy hare-brained 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 knocked him down  
With a good rap upon his crown,  
And turned him topsy-turvy under,  
With a good rattling clap of Thunder,  
At the mad rate that he was driving,  
He had destroyed all Creatures living,  
And all mankind, had he on posted,  
Had either frozen been, or roasted,  
And then you'd made (I hope you'll grant)  
A pretty piece of business 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 
* Clymen●…:  Mistress cry,  
And tears run trickling down her face,  
Would even have moved a heart of brass.  
'Twas that that did my Reason charm,  
But (as I'm here) I thought no harm.  Jup. 
No harm! how dar'st thou tell me so!  
Didst not thy Horse's fury know?  
What hast thou been my Charioteer  
So many hundred thousand year;  
Yet that thou knowst not, now canst swear,  
What fiery head strong Jades they were?  
Yes (Sirrah) you knew well enough  
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 Rutilio,  
All would be lost; you knew all this,  
And yet for your Lyndabrides,  
To humour her (forsooth) you must  
Like a damned Rogue betray your trust,  
Endanger all the world, and set  
A Novice in that dangerous seat,  
Who to drive Topps was fitter far,  
Than guide the Day's triumphant Carr.  Sol. 
I must confess (as your Grace says)  
I knew the Jades were Runaways,  
And therefore did the wilful Ass  
With my own hands i'th' Coach-box place,  
Taught him the Reins to draw, and slip,  
And showed him how to hold his whip,  
Taught him the right Poppysma too,  
Which both the Horses full well knew,  
And my own hold before I quitted,  
No one instruction I omitted  
That I conceived was necessary.  
Assured then he could not miscarry,  
I left him to himself, and bid him  
Touchez monfils, and so good speed him.  
He cracked his whip o'er the mad Cattle,  
The Chariot wheels began to rattle,  
And through the Eastern-gate they run:  
But my foolhardy, awkward Son,  
So ill (woe worth the time I got him)  
Retained the Lessons I had taught him,  
That he had scarce, it should appear,  
A furlong got in his Career,  
When th' Stallions, with the flaming Mains,  
Finding by slackness of the Reins  
They'd got another Charioteer,  
Away they strained in wild Career,  
And left the Road, which had they kept,  
Although the wind they had outstripped  
In speed, yet running the right way,  
'Twould but have made a shorter day:  
But the rash Boy amazed with light,  
And dizzy at the fearful sight  
Of the Abyss he saw below him,  
Both Whip and Reins he straight cast from 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 punished am sufficiently.  Jup. 
He, I confess, has had his payment,  
But thou who wert the most too blame in't,  
Deservest at least to be strappadoed,  
Nay, flayed alive, and carbonadoed:  
But I to mercy incline rather,  
And pardon an indulgent Father,  
On this condition (nevertheless)  
Thou never so again transgress.  
For if thou dost (thou Rascal thou)  
I'll make thee both to feel, and know,  
That this same Thunder which I handle,  
Is hotter than your farthing Candle.  
In the mean time this I'll do for ye,  
Because I see thou art so sorry,  
I will that Phaeton's Sisters go  
Enterr him on the Banks of Po,  
Just where he fell, and for their Guerdon,  
I'll do a thing was never heard on:  
Transform 'em into Poplars all,  
From whom a certain Gum shall fall,  
To imitate the tears they shed  
Over the hare-brained Loggerhead.  
As to the rest it fits thy care  
Thy broken Wagon 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'er 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 Cobbler straight will send thee,  
And when thoust got thy tackle mended,  
Begin a new where thy Son ended.  
But now they've learned a resty trick,  
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.   

DIALOGUE.  
Apollo and Mercury.  Apol. 
I'm so confounded with this pair,  
This Castor, and this Pollux here,  
This brace of Cignets, that one Brother  
I'm still mistaking for the other,  
Which puts me out of Countenance so,  
I know not what to say, or do.  
For they're so like, that when I meet 'em,  
And with respect would kindly greet 'em,  
Servant Don Castor, straight cry I:  
I'm Pollux, cries he by and by.  
Then presently myself I flatter,  
The next time sure to mend the matter,  
When meeting one of 'em alone,  
What Monsieur Pollux, and go on,  
I'm proud to be your Servant known,  
And then 'tis Castor ten to one.  
Now though herein there ever is  
As much to hit as there's to miss,  
Yet o'th' wrong name I always light,  
And never yet was in the right.  
If thou canst give me then some mark  
Particular to either Spark,  
That I may one from tother know,  
I prithee (honest Merc'ry) do.  Merc. 
Why that you yesterday embraced here,  
When we together were, was Castor.  Ap. 
But how canst know him from his Brother,  
When they're so like to one another.  Merc. 
Why Pollux is so given to huffing,  
His face still's black and blue with cuffing:  
And to be more particular,  
His left cheek wears a noted scar  
Of a good wherret Bebrix gave him,  
Which overboard no doubt had drove him,  
Had not friend Jason stepped to save him.  
Which Recumbendibus he got  
By being of an Argonaut,  
When Jason sailed into Greece,  
To steal away the Golden Fleece.  Apollo. 
Gramercy faith, I'll swear a Book on,  
Thou hast obliged me by this token.  
For which was which I ne'er could tell,  
But seeing each with his half shell,  
His white horse, Javelin, and his Star,  
To me the same they always were,  
And I, when I would seem well bred,  
Did still confound 'em, as I said:  
But since I'm so beholding to thee,  
Resolve me one thing more I prithee;  
And tell me why these brothers never  
Are to be seen in Heaven together.  Merc. 
Why you must know that Jupiter  
Upon the hatching of this pair,  
These Twins of Leda fair, decreed  
(I think for to preserve the Breed)  
That one the Destinies should curtal,  
But th'other be ordained immortal:  
Which known to them, as well as others,  
They, like two very loving Brothers,  
By an affection very rare,  
The good and ill alike would share.  
Thus when one dies, the other mourns,  
And so they live, and die by turns.  Apollo. 
'Tis sign of very good condition,  
But 'tis a friendship sans fruition;  
For in this manner neither Brother  
Can ever see, or speak to th'other:  
But of what Calling are these Blades?  
For we have all of us our Trades.  
I am a Prophet and Musician,  
My 
* Aesculapius.  Son's a special good Physician,  
My Sister plays the Midwife's part,  
And thou a famous Wrestler art.  
Are these two good for nought dost think,  
But only for to eat, and drink?  Merc. 
O yes I promise ye, their Stars  
Propitious are to Mariners,  
And save 'em oft, when to ones thinking  
They even are as good as sinking.  Apollo. 
A charitable good vocation;  
I wish them nigh when I've occasion.  
Good Seamen, sayest thou (Merc'ry) marry,  
A Calling very necessary,  
And will (no doubt) when men are Sea-sick,  
Do 'em more good by half than Physic.   

EPILOGUE.  

AND ●…ow (my Masters) rest you merry,  
I doubt both you and I are weary,  
Else I should very much admire;  
Such trumpery a Dog would tyre.  
Yet in the precious Age we live in,  
Most people are so lewdly given,  
Course Hempen trash is sooner read,  
Than Poems of a finer thread.  
Which made our Author wisely choose  
To dizen up his dirty Muse  
In such an odd fantastic weed,  
As every one he knew would read.  
Yet is he wise enough to know  
His Muse however sings too low,  
(Though warbling in the newest fashion)  
To work a work of Reformation,  
And so writ this (to tell you true)  
To please himself as well as you.  
Yet if (beyond his expectation)  
This shall be graced with acceptation,  
Like others much of the same fashion,  
Which all have had your approbation;  
The Rhymer will so kindly take it,  
That he his Business then will make it  
No more thus saucily to scoff ye,  
But something bring more worthy of ye.  
In the mean time he bids me say,  
If you'll not hiss this Puppet-play,  
He'll do what ne'er was done by any,  
And raise the 
† Lucian's Dialogues of the dead.  dead to entertain ye.   
FINIS.   

ERRATA.  
IN the Prologue stanze 15. r. ' 'twas ne'er intended. p. 4. l. 2. r. pavure Diable. p. 6. l. 17. r. hast thou a face. p. 13. l. 4. r. raillery. p. 15. l. 1. r. th'didst. p. 20. l. 9 r. seal-Ring. p. 26. l. 6. r. A wolf howl out. p. 52. l. 7. r. pacot, I kick. p. 57 l. 1. r. hay! whirr! p. 65. l. 13. r. woe begon. p. 67. l. 16. r. Anvil. p. 69. l. penult. r. so not. p. 70. l. 18. r. As any one. p. 72. l. 12. r. did gee't-him. p. 76. l. 15. r. if one may axe. p. 93. l. 10. r. Thum's it. p. 107. l. 8. r. It ●…o much. p. 112. l. penult. r. lasting Tire. p. 114. l. 20. r. Impostures. p. 125. l. 13. r. lewd Crew. l. 14. r. Camrades.