The LOVES OF MARS & VENUS. A Play set to Music, As it is Acted at the New Theatre, IN Little Lincoln's Inn-fields. By His Majesty's Servants. Written by Mr. Motteux.  Fabula narratur toto notissima Coelo. Ovid. 
LONDON, Printed, and are to be sold at the New Theatre, in Little Lincolns-Inn-fields. 1696.   

TO THE HONOURABLE Colonel Codrington.  
SIR,  
I Cannot more effectually enforce the Moral of this Piece which exposes the Frailty of a Warrior, than by prefixing to it the Name of one who with the Bravery and Gallantry of Mars has no allay of his Vices: And as among the few living Exemplars of such unsullied Virtue I know none more universally, nor more justly allowed than yourself, I must appeal from your Sentence to all the world, should your Favourite Modesty bias you to condemn the Necessity of this Address. While so many of our Youth are neglectful of their Ancestors Glory and their own, and indeed of every Thing but Effeminacy or Libertinism, 'tis fit we should set before their Eyes not only the Deformities with which they are familiar, but the Beauties to which they are Strangers, that they may at once be shamed into a Loathing of the one, and charmed into an Admiration of the other. This would require a Panegyric rather than an Epistle, if studied Ornaments, often injurious to prevailing Charms, were not as prejudicial to convincing Truth, which is most engaging in its innocent Nakedness, at which it needs not blush, since it never fell like man To those that know you, your Name alone will imply more than the best Oratory could display, and even an imperfect account of your Excellencies will seem almost incredible to others. You set out so soon and so vigorously for the Race of Glory, that in your early Morn we see you gain the Prize. Thus even at those years when others of your Birth and Fortune made no other use of the opportunities they had to improve their minds but to impair 'em, the general ill Example could not affect you, unless it were with Compassion; you despised their false Pleasures for the chaste Love of that Celestial that Alma Venus of your own Lucretius, and that sublime Truth of your admired Malebranche. You even then reaped the Muse's Laurels, as now you do those of Mars, while your brave Father in the New-world was gaining a Name that spreads over the old, as yours now flies from the one to the other. The World with amazement saw you arise in full Glory, and reconcile Qualities thought almost incompatible; at once a nice and impartial Critic, yet a polite and excellent Master of Fancy; a Man of Wit and Conversation, yet a Respecter of sacred things; a Courtier, yet the best of Friends; a forward Soldier, yet a good Officer; and in short a profound Scholar, yet a fine Gentleman. Such partly Caesar was; thus he exerted the Writer and the Hero; but with this difference, he fought to enslave his Country, you to free Yours: and 't was but just that as your Studies have advanced you to an honourable Post among the Learned, so your Courage should give you one among the Brave, that you might be at once a singular Honour to either Station; the more, as you seek no other Benefit from both, but that of doing the more good to men of both Professions. For, far from being like those whose Pleasures engross their Youth and Wealth, you cannot be happy with yours, unless it makes others so; and I could instance some whose needy Modesty has found itself unexpectedly relieved by you, without being exposed to any other Blushes than what so surprising a Generosity could raise. I know Sir, you would have your Bounty concealed; but pardon me if I sav, 'tis too often employed, not to be discovered; besides it acts in so obliging a manner, that 'tis a pain to a grateful Spirit to conceal it; insomuch that he foregoes the Pride which waited on his Want, to own favours that humble him, if it can humble a man to be relieved by you: For my part, I am so far from thinking that possible, that I have long been ambitious of having this opportunity of owning myself,  
SIR, Your most devoted, most Obedient, and most Obliged Servant, P. Motteux   

PREFACE.  
THis Musical Play or Masque was written to be inserted into a very short Farce written by Mr. Ravenscroft, called The Anatomist, or the Shame Doctor; without any other Expectation than that of being serviceable to my Friend. For I am too well acquainted with that way of Writing, and my own Incapacity, to aim at Reputation by it. The Rhimer here must sacrifice that to the Musician, or rather to the Audience's Ear, if there be any Reputation to be challenged from Trifles of this Nature. I chose a subject never managed in a Dramatic way before; though gallantly handled by Ovid, from whom I borrowed it, as I have a couple of Songs from myself, formerly inserted elsewhere. I was prevailed witk to bring in a Song and Dance of Cyclopes, though I knew there is one in Psyche, borrowed almost verbatim from Moliere's, as he borrowed his from an old Italian Opera called Le Nozze de gli Dei; but mine is wholly different, which was more difficult than to have invented another. Whatever the Critics may think of the Lines, if any will honour them so far as to find fault with 'em, I dare assure, from the little judgement I have, and much more from the general approbation of the best judges, there has not been more agreeable, nor more masterly Music performed upon our Stage. The two great Composers having, as it were, nobly strove to outdo one another, and thus excelled even themselves.  
By reason of the Symphonies and Repetitions some Lines are left out in the Singing, which may easily be known by the Marks prefixed, and past over, when the Music is performing.   

DRAMATIS PERSONAE. In the Introduction or Prologue.  
ERato, the Muse that presides to Love Songs, etc. Mrs. Hodgson. Thalia, the Muse that presides to Comic Sports, Mrs. Perrin. Terpsichore, the Muse that presides to Dancing, etc. Mrs. Ayliff. Chorus of Singers and Dancers their Followers.  

In the Play.  
Mar Mr. Bowman.  
Vulcan, Mr. Reading.  
Gallus, (Mars' Pimp, designed for Mr. Dogget) Mr. Lee.  
Cupid, jemmy Laroche.  


Cyclopes.  
Brontes,  
Argos,  
Steropes,  
Pyrachmon,    


Mars' Attendants.  
Fear,  
Anger,  
Noise,    
Chorus of Cupid's.  
Chorus of Warriors, some of 'em Dancers.  
jupiter.  
Momus (with other Gods only seen) Mr. Sherburn.  
Venus, Mrs. Bracegirdle.  
Aglaia, one of the Graces, Mrs. Hodgson.  
Enphrosyne, another of the Graces, Mrs. Ayliff.  
Hora, one of the Hours that wait on Venus, Mrs. Perrin.  
juno, (with other Goddesses only seen)  
Four of the Cyclops Wives that dance.  
jealousy, Mrs. Hudson.    

Prologue spoken by Mr. Betterton.  

To day expect no Pageant Decoration,  
This Lord Mayor's Show began the Reformation:  
Yet is our Entertainment odd and new;  
We've in our Show the First of Cuckolds too:  
And what we call a Masque some will allow  
To be an Op'ra, as the World goes now.  
So is your poisoning Quack miscalled a Doctor,  
And your worst Mimic calls himself an Actor.  
So your dull Scribbler (to our Cost we know it)  
Writes a damned Play, and is misnamed a Poet.  
Once Song and Dance could buoy up want of Thinking,  
But now those Bladders can't prevent its Sinking:  
Plays grow so heavy, that those helps are vain;  
Three times they rise, and never rise again.  
Well, if our Neighbours the Precedence claim,  
For good dull Stuff we'll not dispute with them.  
Our Medley is perhaps as much too light,  
But let it pass— We don't take Money yet by weight.  
By Sympathy, 't should please the Beaux, I know,  
For in all things an Opras like a Beau.  
Both Beau and Op'ra on the Stage are seen;  
Both odd in Dress, and shifting still the Scene;  
Each dances, sings, and moves like a Machine.  
To be admired, 'tis at a vast Expense;  
It loves soft words, but cares not much for sense;  
For by its Nature 'twas designed for show;  
Why, 'tis an Op'ra but to dress a Beau.  
But one unlucky difference stands between;  
Op'ras are paid, but Beaux pay to be seen,  
(Those who don tcome to sharp an Act I mean)  
For your own sakes, we beg Applause of you;  
Since 'twill revenge you on the Scribbling Crew.  
For, if this takes, straight cries each senseless Elf,  
Dem me, I'd write as well as this myself.  
With that he writes a thing, which we refuse,  
Then, wondering how we durst affront his Muse,  
Straight in a huff he gives it t' other House;  
Who either slight it, or 'twill be its Lot  
To get as much as their last Op'ra got,    

Epilogue spoken by Mr. Bowen.  

GOod People! save the Body of our Play,  
From those who to dissect it Yonder stay;  
Like Surgeons on an Execution day.  
Even ere it dies they ll mawl it, I m afraid;  
And you'd think 't hard, like me, in such a dread,  
To be dissected, e re you're hanged, and dead.  
The fear of this our trembling Scribbler kills;  
I dare say they've no need to take my Pills.  
Pray spare 'em: Learn of Vulcan to forgive;  
Or else, egad, few Plays or Wives will live.  
Even he, methinks, too late his wrath did smother,  
Here, Wives and Husbands keep not such a pother,  
But fairly strive the out-Cuckold one another.  
Why, should all die that follow th' Occupation,  
Oonds! 'twere the way to cut off half the Nation.  
Besides, Horns are not seen; should they appear,  
Gadsooks, yond Place would even outhorn Horn-Fair.  
You'd see your Surly Dons toss their Bull's Feathers,  
And your tame poor Contented bleat like Weathers.  
Lewd rakish Husbands, butt with Goatish Horns,  
And half-made Cuckolds with an Unicorn's.  
Now as all have to Cuckoldry a Call,  
So will the Curse of scribbling on you fasl;  
‛ E gad these Times make Poets of us all.  
Then do not damn your Brothers of the quill;  
To be revenged, there's hope you'll write as ill.  
For ne'er were seen more Scribes, yet less good writing,  
As there ne'er were more Soldiers, yet less Fight.  
Both can do nothing if they want supplies.  
Then aid us; and our League its neighbouring Foes defies;  
Tho they bribed lately one of our Allies.  
Sure you'd not have us, for want of due pittance,  
Like Nicompoops sneak to them for admittance.  
No; prompt by you our fears and dangers cease,  
Here firm, though Wealth decay, and Foes increase,  
We'll bravely tug for Liberty and Peace.    

PROLOGUE, or Introduction.  Set to Music by Mr. Finger. 
Performed after the Prologue that is spoken.  
The Overture: A Symphony of Trumpets, Kettledrums, Violins and Hautbois.  
Scene the New Theatre.  
Erato, Thalia, and Terpsichore, with their Attendants on both sides the Stage, are discovered.  
Acoompaniments of Instruments.  Erato. 
COme, all, with moving Songs prepare  
To Charm the Witty and the Fair!  
Ye Trumpets softly breathe, or cease!  
Love may in Britaiu raise a War,  
But 'twill be sweeter far than Peace.  Chorus repeats the foregoing Stanza. One of Erato's Followers. 

I.  
Love alone can here alarm us,  
And he only strikes to charm us.  
Gazing, liking, and admiring,  
Firing, panting, and desiring,  
Fearing, daring, trying, flying,  
Feigning, pressing, faint denying,  
Still reviving, fierce Delights;  
This is Love, and these his Fights.   Ritornel of Flutes. 

II.  
Eager Kisses,  
Fiery Glances,  
Balmy Blisses,  
Melting Trances,  
Kind Complying,  
Kinder Dying,  
Happy Days, and happier Nights,  
Still reviving fierce Delights,  
This is Love, and these his Fights.   Ritornel of Violins. Two others. 
Love, like War, has noble Cares:  
War sheds Blood, and Love sheds Tears.  
War has Swords, and Love has Darts;  
War takes Towns, and Love takes Hearts.  
Love, like War, the bold requires:  
Love, like War, has Flames and Fires.  
Love, like War, does Art admit;  
Love, like War, for Youth is fit.  Ritornel of Violins. Erato. 

Scorn, though Beauty frowns, to tremble.  
Lovers, boldly urge your Flame:  
For a Woman will dissemble,  
Loves the Joy, but hates the Name:  
Her refusing, your pursuing  
Yield alike a pleasing pain,  
Ever curing and renewing,  
Soon appeased, to rage again.   

II.  
‛ If the Soldier storms and rages,  
‛ Face him with a lovely Maid:  
‛ This his Fury soon assuages,  
‛ And the Devil soon is laid.  
‛ He ne'er conquers but by Toiling,  
‛ But the Fair subdues with Ease:  
‛ Blood he sheds with hatred boiling,  
‛ But the Fair can kill and please.   Ritornel of Violins. Thalia. 
To double the Sports to Thalia belongs;  
I'll join Comic Scenes to your Amorous Songs:  
To heighten Life's Pleasures, to soften its Cares,  
No Charm like a Farce, no Physicians like players.  Ritornel. Terpsichore. 
To triple the Pleasures,  
With regular Measures,  
My Train shall advance:  
Some join in a Chorus;  
While, gaily before us,  
Some join in a Dance.  Ritornel. Grand Chorus. 
Let Scenes of Mirth and Love,  
With Songs and Dances joining,  
The fleeting hours improve,  
And banish dull repining.  
He who those Joys refuses,  
When kindly they invite,  
The End of Living loses;  
Life's business is Delight.  Exeunt. While the Grand Chorus is performing, there is an Entry of Dancing-masters, teaching their Scholars, and making Love to 'em: and a Harlequin mimicking 'em with a She-Harlequin, which expresses the business of the Prologue. This Dance cannot be performed, the Master who made it being sick. Another Entry is danced instead of it.  

The First Act.  Set to Music by Mr. john Eccles. 
Scene a Palace.  Overture. Violins and Hautbois. Enter Aglaia and Euphrosyne. 
TO meet her Mars, the Queen of Love  
Comes here adorned with all her Charms  
The Warrior best the Fair can move;  
And crowns his Toils in Beauty's Arms.  Symphony of Flutes. Enter Venus improving her Dress; attended by Hora, the Graces, and others. 
Say, ye Graces, am I now  
Fit to make Immortals bow?  
Are my Dress, my Face, and Air  
Fit to charm the God of War?  
Say, ye Graces, am I now  
Fit to make Immortals bow?  Hora. 
You've been scarce five hours a dressing;  
Yet you're charming past expressing.  Venus. 
Let me see once more the Glass!  
So!— I fancy it may pass.  She looks a while in the Glass while a Ritornel is played. Euphrosyne and Aglaia. 
‛ Women seldom like their Faces,  
‛ Tho they long consult the Glass;  
‛ But, if you dare trust the Graces,  
‛ You now even yourself surpass.  
‛ And when Beauty's self engages,  
‛ Armed with such a Dress and Air,  
‛ She may conquer rigid Sages,  
‛ And even the rough God of War.  Venus. 

How slow the Warlike God I find!  
On Love's expanded Wings expecting Lovers move  
But slow as palsied age expected Lovers prove;  
Love flags, and leaves the heavy mass behind.   

Fly, ye hours; haste, bring him here  
Swift as my fond Wishes are!  
When we love, and love to rage,  
Every Moment is an Age. Enter Cupid, to the same Tune, and smiling.  
But when blest with what we love,  
Ages but a Moment prove.   

Beauty's Goddess, cease to mourn:  
Soon to your Arms,  
From War's Alarms,  
Your Lover will return:  
Your Grief will then be lost in Kisses,  
Melting Blisses,  
You will gaze and laugh and toy:  
As gloomy night  
Adds Charms to Light,  
So Absence to our Joy.   Ritorne. Venus. 
Will my Soldier then be here?  
Where was he? come, tell, my Dear?  Chucks Cupid under the Chin. Cupid. 
The rough Warrior roved a while  
In the lovely British Isle.  
Had not I his Flame renewed,  
He could scarce have now been here;  
For such Beauties there I viewed,  
As might even with You compare.  Venus. 
Tell me, gentle Cupid, how  
In that Isle I'm worshipped now?  Cupid. 
There the kindest Husbands are,  
And the kindest-hearted Fair.  
Each in Hymen's Bonds is free;  
And, when Wives with Lovers go,  
Cuckolds, not to disagree,  
Thank the Men who make 'em so.  Ritornel. 
Others, fond of roving Lives,  
Love all Women but their Wives.  
Painted Beauties there abound;  
Nay, some Men are painted too:  
Crowds are in all Temples found,  
But come most to worship You.  Venus. 
Happp Isle! and happier far,  
If thou knewest no other War!  Venus' Attendants repeat this Distich 
Happy Isle! and happier far  
If thou knewest no other War!  
A March to a rough wild Tune.  
Enter Vulcan with Brontes, Steropes, Argos, Pyrachmon, and other Cyclopes.  
Vulcan looks about with his Spectacles.  Vulcan. 
Where's my damned Wife? hoh! here she stands!  
Methinks she's plaguy fine to day!  
And this in spite of my Commands:  
There's something in't; she looks too gay.  Cupid. 
the grumbling Husband here?  
Love no longer then can stay.  Exit Cupid with his Followers. Euphrosyne. 
When the jealous Coxcomb's near,  
All the Graces must away.  Exeunt the three Graces. Hora. 
Now an hour will seem a day.  Manent Horae. Vulcan. 
Thou Plague of my Life,  
Thou Devil, thou Wife!  
Come, tell me, why did you  
Dress so like a Crack? you know I forbade you.  
Why d' you Patch thus and prink?  
What, you're Painted I think!  
Why this Head six foot high?  
S Blood and Fire, who am I?  Venus. 
My Fool; for what else can that Property b  
That's ugly, and old, and ill-natured, like Thee?  
I'll dress when I please, nay I'll Cuckold Thee too:  
What else have young Wives with such Husbands to do?  Vulcan. 
If ever you dare,  
I'll make the World know what a Strumpet you are.  Venus. 
Nay, what do I care?  
You'll make the World know what a Cuckold you are.  Both at the same time in a scolding manner. Vulcan. 
I'll make the World know what a Strumpet you are.  Venus. 
You'll make the World know what a Cuckold you are.  Ritornel. Vulcan. 
Join, and curse the Tie with me,  
That confines us to one Bed!  Venus. 
Thus at least we'll once agree;  
Cursed be he that made us wed!  Vulcan repeats that Verse three times with Venus. Enter some Cyclopes and their Wives, at the noise of Vulcan and Venus' quarrelling. Chorus of all. 
Join, and curse the Tie with me  
That confines us to one Bed!  
Thus alone you can agree,  
Cursed be he, cursed be he, cursed be he that made you wed.  Some of the Cyclopes and their Wives dance, while the others are singing; and in the Dance they frown, jolt, and threaten each other, wring their hands, and kick backwards, and the Women make Horns at the Men. 
The End of the First Act.   

The Second Act.  The Music of the Second Act composed by Mr. john Eccles. 
Scene the Garden of Venus.  
A March, with Trumpets and Kettledrums, and then with Hautbois, alternate.  
Enter Mars, followed by Gallus, Fear, Anger, Noise, and a Body of Soldiers marching.  Mars. 
HAlt!  Fear. 
— Halt!  Noise. 
— Halt!  Mars. 
— None but Gallus further comes. Now face about.  They all face about, except Gallus. 
— Sound, beat  
A Retreat,  
Ye Trumpets, and ye Drums.  
March all to Quarters; March, and there remain, Till my Command renews the rough Campaign.  They all march out in Military order, except Mars and Gallus, who stay. The Drums, Trumpets and Hautbois continue the March alternate, till they are all gone. Mars. 
Thou watchful Sentinel of Love,  
Gallus, my trusty Spy,  
By whom secure in amorous Wars I move,  
And all surprising Foes defy,  
Procure thy Master new Delight;  
Go, bring my Goddess to my sight!  Gallus, looking sneekingly. 
What if the limping Cuckold's nigh?  
I may be banged,  
And may be hanged,  
And then, god ' b' y▪,  
Gallus your trusty Spy!  Mars. 
No more: I on thy Vigilance rely.  Gallus. 
I shall be killed.  Mars, offering to draw his Sword. 
— By me.  Gallus. 
— Hold, hold, I fly.  Gallus exit running. Symphony. Mars. 

Oh! Rival! you must happy be;  
You every day my Goddess see.  
Perhaps in vain you sigh and sue;  
But you, at least, my Goddess view.   

For such a dear bewitching sight,  
Who would not gaze away the Light?  
Oh! though I see her every where,  
I too too little see the Fair.  
n vain to shun her sight I strove:  
Here, in my Heart 'tis fixed by Love.  
None can the Charming Image blot,  
I see her, when I see her not.   

And who can from her Chains be freed?  
She looks; and Gods themselves adore.  
She smiles; then I'm a God indeed.  
She's in my Arms; Oh then I'm more!   
Enter Venus followed by Cupid and his Train, and Gallus after them.  
Venus' running into Mars ' Arms.  
My Mars!  Mars. 
— My Venus!  Mars and Venus. 
— Oh!  Mars. 
My Life!  Venus. 
— My Soul, my dearest Mars!  Mars. 
— My dearest Venus! oh!  
‛ Now let the World a Truce from Wars & Tumults know  
‛ While Mars is here, 'tis Peace below.  
‛ O Absence, now I see  
‛ Unjustly we complain of Thee;  
‛ Without Thy Power could I have hoped to find?  
‛ Even Beauty's Queen so charming and so kind.  Venus. 
My Life!  Mars. 
— My Soul!  Venus. 
— My dearest Mars!  Mars. 
— My dearest Venus!  Venus. 
— Oh!  Cupid, while dumb Courtship passes between Mars & Venus. 
Come, you Loves, clap every Wing;  
Io Triumph! dance and sing!  Cupid's Followers dance. 
‛ Come, you Loves, clap every Wing;  
‛ Io Triumph! dance and sing!  Mars and Venus. 
How sweet, how pleasing, when returned,  
The lovely Object whom we mourned!  
Recruited Fires more fiercely warm,  
And Absence heightens every Charm.  
The Blessing that a while was lost,  
When 'tis regained is valued most.  
‛ How sweet, how pleasing, when returned,  
‛ The lovely Object whom we mourned!  Venus. 
My Life!  Mars. 
— My Soul!  Venus. 
— My dearest Mars!  Mars. 
— My dearest Venus!  Venus. 
— Oh!  Enter Vulcan while Venus is in the Arms of Mars, and saying— Oh! Vulcan. 
So! so!  He offers to knock 'em down with his Hammer, but is hindered by Gallus. Gallus. 
Hold; Let the God of Anvils know,  
My Master's Arms must be just so.  While he sings the last Verse, he puts his Arms about Vulcan s Neck, and then about his Body and Thighs, making motions to show him how a Coat of Armour should be made to fit Mars. Vulcan. 
You saucy Varlet, I say no.  
Come, Bully Mars, let go, let go!  
Your Arms must be just so, just so.  While he sings this, he takes Mars by the Arms, and lays 'em along his sides. Gallus. 
Hold, fiery Smith, I mean those Arms  
Which you must frame for War's Alarms:  
Those Arms must o re his Shoulders close just so,  
As he now did to Venus' show,  
Only that she might let you know.  
He's somewhat rough, she somewhat tender,  
His leaning on her might offend her;  
So she cried, Oh! That's all.  Vulcan. 
——— Oh ho! is it so?  Gallus. 
Now since you're come, if you're at Leisure,  
An't please your Godship, take his Measure  Ritornel. Mars. 

Here Vulcan, Arm me, Cap-a-pié!  
And let my Shield impenetrable be.   

Let future Heroes there appear;  
Place Greece's, Rome's, and brave Britain's there.  
Let Alexander, Caesar, Arthur meet,  
And all their Laurels lay at greater William's Feet.   

‛ William, more God like, and as brave,  
‛ Shall only fight th' endangered World to save:  
‛ William, my other self shall be;  
‛ Inspired by 
* The Goddess justice..  Themis, and by me.   

‛ Immured in Steel now Warriors safely fight;  
‛ But Balls unseen with rapid Flight  
‛ One day shall deal Destruction through the Field:  
‛ William, with Breast unarmed, shall face those fiery Foes;  
‛ And Mars must kindly interpose,  
‛ His Representative to shield.   

Here, Vulcan, Arm me Cap-a-pié!  
And let my Shield impenetrable be.   Gallus. 
But good your Godship, know,  
His Arms must be just so, just so.  Vulcan, hindering Venus from holding Mars; who, while Gallus sings, talks to her, making signs as if he gave her Directions about the Armour. 
‛ Hold, I don't like my Wife should feel  
‛ This ample Back of Brawn like Steel.  
Come, Mistress, pray, what Business had you here!  Venus faltering. 
I only-came-to— take— the Air, my Dear.  Vulcan. 
You rather came to Arm my Head, I fear.  Venus' wheadling. 

Go, now I hate you, now go to!  
And could you, could you think I'd do  
As I in jest did threaten you?  
Go, now I hate you, now, go to.   

Dull Fool! had I designed to try,  
Would I have told you so before?  
Besides, you see my Son was by.   Vulcan. 
Your Son's a Pimp, and you—  Venus. 
——— No more.  Vulcan. 
‛ Why, sure some Fiend must have possessed you!  
' 'Tis but a Month since I caressed you.  Venus. 
‛ Ungrateful Dear! could you believe  
‛ I would myself and you deceive?  
‛ What with that Forehead can compare?  
‛ Can any one read Cuckold there?  
‛ That Leer! that Hippolito, that Heel and Toe!  
‛ What tho' you're old? most Beaux are so.  Vulcan. 
‛ Nay, when I'm smugged up, I'm so comely,  
‛ I know you cannot think me homely.  Mars. 
Come, for her Pardon humbly sue!  
Tho' she were not so true,  
She●● 〈◊〉 too good for you.  
Come; for her Pardon humbly sue!  Vulcan. 
What shall I do?  
I fear this Mars, and love and fear her too,  Mars. 
Come, for her Pardon humbly sue.  Vulcan. 
It must be so, My Deary, Deary!  
My Love! my Soul!  Venus. 
——— My hate, my Fool!  Vulcan. 
Pray, Chuck, don't frown, let me come near you!  
Come, 'tis a Folly to repine,  
You've had your Jest, pray pardon mine.  Venus. 
First ask his Pardon as you ought.  Vulcan to Mars. 
You hear her, pray good Mars forgive my Fault.  Mars. 
Well, for her sake, no more of this be thought.  Vulcan 
‛ Now, Dear, a Kiss in sign of Grace!  Venus. 
‛ Not till you've got you a new Face.  Vulcan. 
‛ Come, Buss'e; come, it must be so!  Venus after he had kissed her. 
‛ Pish, you're so troublesome! Now go.  Gallus. 
‛ Should he not beg my Pardon too?  Mars. 
‛ Ah! how sweet is Reconciling,  
‛ When a loving Pair is smiling,  
‛ Free from Spleen or jealous doubt!  
‛ O that we could still be smiling,  
‛ still thus kindly reconciling,  
‛ And yet never falling out!  Vulcan. 
Now all is well, my Cyclops shall advance  
With their newest Anvil-Dance.  Vulcan exit. Mars. 
‛ Let's a while renew our Blisses  
‛ In a sweet exchange of Kisses:  
‛ Thus the Lover comes in Play,  
‛ When the Husband is away.  Venus. 
‛ But alas he will not stay!  
‛ Soon be gone; but soon return.  
‛ Soon? no, I a whole tedious hour must mourn!  
‛ I a whole tedious hour must be  
‛ Depriv, d of Heaven, deprived of Thee.  Enter Vulcan, with several Singing and Dancing Cyclopes. They lay an Anvil en the middle of the Stage. Brontes, Argos, Steropes, and Pyrachmon, the four chief Cyclopes, Sing, while others Dance and strike on the Anvil. Vulcan. 
Come, away; strike and sing,  
Ting, ting, ting, terry terre, terry ting, etc.  
Let us make the Caves' ring,  
Ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, ting,  
While we forge Thunderbolts for heavens King.  
Ting, ting, ting.  - Steropes holding a red hot Bolt. 
This he'll fling,  
Ting, ting, ting.  
At Cowards at Sieges, and Atheists at Prayers.  
At a Husband, who by his Wife's Chastity swears.  
This he'll fling, ting, ting, ting.  Chorus of Cyclops. 
At promising Courtiers, and Fools that believe 'em;  
At poor Rogues that give Bribes, and rich Knaves that receive 'em,  
This he'll fling, etc.  
‛ At a Weathercock Priest who ne'er thinks as he teaches.  
‛ At a Cit. in his Buff with his Heart in his Breeches.  
This he'll fling, etc.  
‛ At Beaux who protest they of Favours ne'er boast,  
‛ Yet drink the Fair's Health every Night with a Toast.  
This he'll fling, etc.  
‛ At Masks, who at Fifty would follow Love's Trade;  
‛ At a Female of Twenty that swears she's a Maid.  
This he'll fling, etc.  
At a Couple who swear that they never repented;  
At a Briton who says, he can long live contented.  
This he'll fling, etc.  
At a Ninny who finds a Gallant with his Wife,  
Then begs both their Pardons for making a Strife.  Vulcan. 
‛ How! then I am fooled I doubt?  Mars. 
‛ No, he jests; come, still be smiling,  
‛ Free from Spleen, or jealous Doubt,  
‛ Still be kindly reconciling,  
‛ But be never falling out.  The Cyclopes with the rest join in a Chorus, and Dance, striking on their Anvil. 
‛ Thus may your Joys for ever last,  
‛ The Charms of Peace best after Wars we taste.  
The End of the Second Act.   

Act Third and Last.  The Music Composed by Mr. Finger. 
Scene a Grove.  
Symphony. Enter Vulcan, and Jealousy behind him.  

MY Courage comes, now Mars is gone.  
I'll not be Bullied into Patience.  
I should be jeered, should he go on,  
By Gods, and Godlins', and all Nations.  
No, I'll be bold, now Mars is gone.   

How shall I use this Rampant Creature?  
jealousy imitating Echo—— hate her.  
What if I valiantly should beat her?  
jealousy like Echo,——— beat her.  
But when she wheadles I believe her.  
jealousy like Echo,——— leave her.  
Will she still Jilt my kind Endeavour?  
jealousy like Echo,——— ever.  
How! Echo! what am I? speak Echo?  
jealousy like a Cuckoo,—-—— Cuckoo.   Symphony. Vulcan, thinking it to be the Cuckoe's Note. 

Vile Bird, be cursed for thy unwelcome Tongue!  
Hence, let the lustful Sparrow hatch thy Young,  
And Cuckoo be thy Name, and Cuckoo be thy Song!  
Let Married Wretches dread, yet share thy Name,  
Their Wives the Gild, yet theirs the Shame,  
Till Cuckoo spreads through all the Universal Frame.   jealousy discovers herself. Symphony. jealousy. 
See, Vulcan, jealousy appears!  
Tho' not to ease, but raise thy Cares.  
Still restless round the World I run,  
To rack the wretched Lover's Mind:  
I watch and journey with the Sun,  
To search for what I dread to find.  
Thence sliding on a Beam, my Eye  
Saw Mars with Venus loosely toy.  Ritornel. Vulcan. 
Revenge me Hell, new Pains invent!  
To plague 'em, all thy Racks I'll steal.  
No, that's too mild a Punishment;  
Let'em both share the Hell, the greater Hell I feel.  Exeunt Vulcan and Jealousy. Enter Venus and Mars following her, and Gallus and Euphrosyne after 'em. Mars. 
Yield, my Dear, let f●ll possessing  
Crown my Love, and Charm my Sense.  Venus. 
No, I must oppose your pressing  
With as gallant a Defence.  Mars. 
When Love's Harvest should be reaping,  
Will you waste the Time in Doubt?  Venus. 
Every Town that's worth the keeping,  
Keeps a while th' Invader out.  
Cheap Embraces quickly cloy;  
Easy Conquest seems a Toy:  
But denying,  
Struggling, flying,  
Wanton playing,  
Wise delaying,  
Raise us to a Sense of Joy.  Mars and Venus. 
Love's a Hawk, and stoops apace:  
We all hurry  
For the Quarry,  
Tho' the Sport ends with the Chase.  Ritornel. Exit- Venus and Mars after her. Gallus to Euphrosyne. 
Come Child, let us kiss, hang dull silly wooing,  
'Tis time, like our Betters, we two should be doing.  
Kind Fate still assigns, as a Custom that's common▪  
To the Mistress, the Master, the Man to the Woman.  Euphrosyne. 
Be still, I hate your wanton Play,  Gallus. 
Yet on a wanton Mistress wait?  Euphrosyne. 
What others can be found of late?  
If now we cannot still obey,  
See all, hear all, and nothing say,  
'Twere pity we should serve the Great.  Gallus. 
What, would you have me dully woo?  
I cannot flatter, cringe, and sue:  
Yet if high Love must pass between us,  
Come, I'll be Mars, do you be Venus.  Like a Soldier. 
Dear Madam, you're so damned inviting,  
Rot me, I love you more than Fight.  
There cannot be a better sport,  
Than to besiege so fine a Fort:  
Your Eyes strange Execution do;  
Yet I must die, or conquer you.  Euphrosyne. 
Hold, or my Hands will prove to you  
Offensive, and Defensive too.  Gallus. 
'Tis vain, make what defence you please,  
These two white Rising towers I'll seize.  Gal. 
Yield.  Struggles with her. Eu. 
— No.  Gal. 
—— I must storm then.  Eu. 
—— Do, do, I defy you.  
Be quiet, nay don't you; I'll cry out.  Gal. 
——— I'll try you.  Eu. 
Do, do, I defy you; do, no Body's by you,  Eu. 
Hold, hold!  Gal. 
——— I hold you.  Eu. 
—— Hold, hold, or I'll fly you.  Gal. 
I hold you.  Eu. 
— I'll fly you.  Gall. 
——— Do, do, I defy you.  Gallus carries her off. Ritornel. Re-enter Vulcan, having laid a Net by the Couch. Vulcan. 
My Wife and her Bully are coming this way;  
Thou kill them I cannot, expose 'em I may.  
Since Chains of hot Lust, their dark Union have made,  
In Fetters as subtle they'll here be betrayed.  Ritornel. 
Well, let ev'y Fumble,  
Who like me will stumble,  
Be soon made as humble  
As I!  
And may his Wife fly him,  
Or court others by him,  
And Fate then deny him  
To die.  Exit. Ritornel. Re-enter Mars and Venus. Mars very Amorously. 
How my Passion is increased  
With imperfect Pleasure toying!  
I'll no more starve at a Feast,  
Nor enjoy without enjoying.  Venus' running into his Arms. 
Ah! my Dear, my Soul, my all!  
Thus for ever let me lie!  
In thy Arms I ravished fall,  
Tranced in melting Joys I die.  Mars and Venus sit upon the Couch. Mars. 
‛ O bless me less! th' Almighty Joy  
‛ Will even Divinity destroy▪  
‛ It shakes and labours with the Bliss,  
‛ And wastes, and wastes with every stronger Kiss.  Wild Music. It Thunders, and at the same time, The Net spreads over 'em, The Scene opens and discovers in a Glory, Jupiter, Juno, and other Heavenly Deities. Mars, roused out of his Ecstasy, and finding himself caught. 
‛ Ha! am I fallen from Heaven to Hell?  
‛ No, still 'tis Heaven bright Goddess where you dwell.  
How! trapped in Chains! jove here! Cursed Vulcan too!  
Ye Gods, what Being ever fell  
So low, from high'r than you?  To Gallus. 
Dull Spy, by whose Neglect I'm caught,  
‛ Turn to a Bird, and by thy early Call,  
(' Lest secret Lovers like me fall)  
‛ Prevent the prying Sun, and thus atone thy Fault.  Vulcan. 
‛ Here for ever thus remain:  
‛ Strong as Fate is Vulcan's Chain.  
‛ Cursed be the Pair that brand my Front with Shame!  
‛ Most cursed my Wife! Damn, all adulterers, Damn,  
‛ May my worst Fires boil their Salacious▪ Blood,  
‛ Corrode their Flesh, dry up the tainted Flood;  
Prey on their Bones, their inmost Marrow fry,  
Till they curse Heaven, like me, and vainly wish to die!  Momus laughing to Mars. 
Dear Bully, thou'rt fitted; long may you lie thus!  
'Tis sweet to make Cuckolds; but why one of us?  
What's cheaper than Women? Look, yonder appears  
A World of kind Wives, and of She Volunteers!  
Not one here but wishes t'have been in your place:  
Yet, Vulcan, thou'rt wise thus to spread thy Disgrace:  
Thus Jealousies cured, and Men gladly will know,  
There are Cuckolds above, as well as below.  
Ha, ha, ha, ha, hah! as well as below.  The Chorus, Repeat the last two Lines. Symphony. Enter Cupid with a Train of Cupid's. Cupid. 
Thus all unequal Unions break.  
Thus Hymen without Love is weak.  
But I'll exert my Power anew,  
Make Vulcan kind, and Venus true.  
Her Gratitude will soon Improve,  
And Friendship shall resemble Love.  
Where Hymen wove unequal Ties,  
Love to no higher Pitch can Rise:  Cupid strikes Vulcan with an Arrow. Venus. 
Compelled by Love and Fate's resistless Power,  
We loved, we failed, your Pardon I implore.  Vulcan. 
Well, I'm a Fool! will you do so no more?  Venus, Mars, and Cupid. 
No more, no more, no more.  Vulcan goes to set 'em free. A March with Trumpets and Kettledrums, etc. Enter the Followers of Mars. Immediately after the Warlike Music, Flutes, and other soft Music, are heard. 
Rouse, God of War, to Arms, to Arms!  Cupid's. 
To Love, to Love, to Love's Alarms!  Warriors. 
To War, to War, to War's Alarms!  Cupid's. 
Hark! Flutes are warbling Love!  Warrior. 
——— Hark! Trumpets answer War.  Mars. 
War, Battles, Conquests, Triumphs, Glory, War,  

None but he is worthy Love,  
Whom the Charms of Glory move.   Cupid and Mars hand in hand. 
None but he is worthy Love,  
Whom the Charms of Glory move  Grand Chorus of all the Voices and Instruments. 
Hail! Great Gods of Love and War!  
Thus the World's vast▪ Empire share!  Cupid's. 
— Glory without Love is vain.  Warrior's 
— Without Glory Love's a Bane.  Cupid's and Warriors. 
None but he is worthy Love,  
Whom the Charms of Glory move.  
Hail! Great Gods of Love and War!  
Thus the World's vast Empire share!  
While the Grand Chorus is performed, several of Cupid's Followers Dance to Flutes, and other soft Music; and several of Mars' Followers Dance to Trumpets, and other Warlike Music Alternately; the Warriors strike on their Shields a kind of Tune with their Scymitars, and Dance a Pyrrhic Dance, by Fits fight off the Stage suddenly, and then immediately the Cupid's come in and Dance, with their Bows and Arrows seeming to aim at each other, then also go off, and re-enter by Fits, which ends the Entertainment.   

An Explanation of the Fable of Mars and Ve●●●. Out of Mr. Motteuxes Gentleman's Journal, Month of january, Vol: 3.  
THE oldest of the Heathen Gods was Coelus, whose Son Saturn is sometimes described like an old man devouring his Children, and at others with Wings and a Scyth; with which having spoiled his Father's propagating Faculty, lest he should produce other Being's, some of the Blood fell into the Sea, and mixing with the foamy Waves give birth to Venus.  
By Coelus the Ancients seem to have meant the Heavens, whose motions give birth to Time, which is figured by Saturn, made old because first created; and said to devour his Children, Time devouring its Offspring. The Wings imply its swiftness, and the Scyth that it mows down all. Saturn castrating Coelus shows, that Time soon takes from things the power of multiplying their Kind, lest they should increase to too great a Number, and that the Destruction of one is the production of another▪ also, that even after the loss of the Power, Desire fluctuates, and creates Venus.  
Fair Venus is the Wife of limping Vulcan, and Cupid is her Son; Mars is the Son of Juno, who by the advice of Flora, begot him, having touched a Flower, to be even with Jupiter, who begot Minerva out of his Brain without any other help. Mars is charmed, courts and enjoys Venus, but Phoebus discovers this to Vulcan, who frames so artificial a Net, that he ●●cures Mars and Venus in it, who are exposed to the laughter of the Gods.  
Venus is libidinous Pleasure, which is always wedded to the Fire of Lust, which is the reason that Vulcan is made ugly, because Lust is so; li●ping like too 〈◊〉 its infected Votaries; and supporting himself with a stick, because Fire cannot subsist without Fuel; made▪ God of Smiths, because Lustful flames 〈◊〉 to forge and sharpen the first points of Love, that is, the Arms of Cupid; 〈◊〉 it, made those of the Trojans and Greeks in another sense, the Loves of Paris and Helena having caused those two Nations to take up Arms. And as Venus is daughter of the Sea▪ Vulcan's Wife, and Mars' Mistress, she's apt to cause stormy commotions, Fire and Bloodshed.  
As for Jupiter' s having without any help produced out of his Brain Minerva the Goddess of Arts and Sciences, called Pallas and Bellona, when she presides to defensive arms, this means the omnipotent Deity, who by his supreme wisdom has formed all states, and given to Man Arts and Sciences, with the means of defending himself against his Enemies. Juno is Riches jealousy and Envy, that beg at Mars, which is War, in opposition to Minerva, that is the flourishing condition of Governments. Flora by whom Juno is advised, means Youth, to whose rash advice War often owes its beginning. By Mars Warriors are to be understood, who gazing on Venus, or libidinous Pleasure, are enticed; and abandoning themselves to an ignoble sloth, lose their martial vigour, which is only preserved by military Discipline. Now this cannot be hid from the piercing eyes of a prying observer, meant by the Sun, whose light discovers all the intrigue to the Enemy: Thus they are surprised in the snare which the Fire of Lust, the Husband of unlawful pleasure has laid for them, and expose to the censure of the Gods, that is, their Superiors and the World.  
FINIS.