Amongst his men, who flock'd to view it,
Admir'd the glitt'ring band, and swore
They'd never seen the like before.
He then, with all his might and main,
Let drive at Paris once again;
With a fresh broomstick thought to smoke him,
But Venus whipp'd him up, and took him
In her smock lap, and very soon
Near his own dwelling set him down;
From thence, with gentle touch, she led
The younker home, and warm'd his bed.
To take away perfumes not good,
She burnt perfumes of spicy wood.
No sooner was he seated well in
His garret, but she look'd for Helen:
Amongst her chamber-maids she found her;
The wenches all were standing round her.
Quickly she chang'd her form, and whipp'd on
The nose and chin of Mother Shipton;
Then on her tip-toes coming near,
She whispers softly in her ear:
My dearest jewel, Paris wants
To ramble in the usual haunts;
Upon a good flock-bed he lies,
And longs to view your wicked eyes:
The whoring rascal, safe and sound,
Prepares to fire a double round.
Helen began to make a din
At this old woman's nose and chin,
But as she star'd her through and through,
Her old acquaintance soon she knew
By her fine alabaster bubbies,
Her eyes of jet, and lips of rubies.
The fright made all her teeth to chatter,
And, 'faith, she scarce could hold her water:
But soon a little courage took,
And to the goddess silence broke
(The reader in her speech will find,
That, woman like, she spoke her mind):
Could I believe that Venus would
For such a rascal turn a bawd?
Don't think that Helen e'er will truckle,
And with a beaten scoundrel buckle.
If to your calling you bewitch her,
For God's sake let a brave man switch her,
Nor think that I can like a scrub
That any lousy rogue can drub.
Now he is worsted in the fight,
I am become another's right:
I know your drift; it sha'n't take place;
To send me homeward with disgrace,
And make my husband quite uncivil:
You a fine goddess! you a devil!
If Paris cannot live without
A tit bit, you yourself may do't;
Be you his loving wench or wife,
I'll go no more, upon my life:
To me it will afford no sport,
I am not in a humour for't;
You're always ready for a bout,
When I'd as lief be hang'd as do't:
But know, that I'll no longer bear
Of every saucy jade the sneer,
Who cry, She's very handsome, sure,
But yet the brim's an errant whore.
Hey-day! quoth Venus, what's all this?
On nettles sure you've been to piss:
Yon will not that, or t'other do:
Pray, who will first have cause to rue?
If I forsake thee, every grace
Will leave that pretty smirking face;
Trojans won't give a fig to see
What once they view'd with so much glee;
Nor will the wildest rake in town
Value thy ware at half a crown,
This eas'd poor Helen of her doubts,
And put an end to all disputes;
Rather than risk the loss of beauty,
She'd be content with double duty;
On which the gipsies tripp'd away,
And soon arriv'd where Paris lay.
The maids about like lightning flew,
For they had fifty things to do:
But Nell and Venus mount up stairs;
They were to mind their own affairs.
Soon as they reach'd the garret-door,
The goddess tripp'd it in before;
And, squatting down just by the fire,
Made Helen on a stool sit by her:
All o'er she look'd so very charming,
That Paris found his liver warming;
He seiz'd her, and began to play
The prelude to et cætera;
Hoping a tune o' th' silent flute
Would keep the scolding baggage mute:
Instead of which the vixen fell
Upon the harmless rogue pell mell.
After you've suffer'd such disgrace,
How dare you look in Helen's face?
What wench, now thou hast lost thine honour,
Will let thee lay a leg upon her?
Perhaps you think I'll suffer you
To toy, but split me if I do;
Not I, by Jove. Are all thy brags,
Of beating Menelaus to rags,
Come off with this? Once more go try
Thy strength—But what a fool am I!
A stripling thou, a giant he;
At single gulp he'd swallow thee.
Then venture into scrapes no more;
But, since thou'rt safe, e'en shut the door.
Paris replies, Good dame, ha' done;
We can't recall the setting sun:
Though your old cuckold-pated whelp,
By that damn'd brim Minerva's help,
Did win this match, the next that's try'd
I'll lay the odds I trim his hide.
But haste, my girl, let's buckle to't,
And mind the business we're about:
I ne'er before had such desire;
My heart and pluck are both on fire:
Just now I've far more appetite,
Than when with you, that merry night,
In Cranse's isle, to work we buckled,
And dubb'd your bluff-fac'd husband cuckold.
This speech no sooner had he made,
But up he jump'd upon the bed;
Where Nelly soon resign'd her charms.
And sunk into the varlet's arms:
Around her waist he never caught her,
But it in special temper brought her.
Whilst thus they up and down engage,
The Greek was in a bloody rage;
He like a pointer rang'd about,
To try to find the younker out,
And peep'd in ev'ry hole and corner,
In hopes to spy this Mr. Horner;
(Nor would the Trojans, not to wrong 'em,
Have screen'd him, had he been among 'em)
But the bawd Venus took good care
He should not find him far or near.
Then Agamemnon from his breech
Lifted himself, and made this speech:
Ye Dardans and ye Trojans trusty,
Whose swords we keep from being rusty,
You plainly see the higher powers
Determine that the day is ours;
For Menelaus sure has beat him,
And may, for aught we know, have eat him,
As not a man upon the spot,
Can tell us where the rogue is got:
If therefore Helen you'll restore,
We'll take her, be she wife or whore,
With all her clothes and other gear,
Adding a sum for wear and tear:
The wear, a female broker may
Settle in less than half a day;
But for the tear, no mortal elf
Can judge so well as Mene's self.
If Troy will pay a fine so just,
And that they will, I firmly trust,
We'll leave this curs'd unlucky shore,
And swear to trouble you no more.
With mighty shouts the Grecians each
Vow 'tis a very noble speech;
That every single word was right;
And swore the Trojans should stand by't.
THE FOURTH BOOK OF HOMER'S ILIAD
ARGUMENT.
With solemn phiz, about the fate
Of Troy the gods deliberate;
And long dispute the matter, whether
To joul their loggerheads together,
Or make all farther scuffles cease,
And let them drink and whore in peace.
At last the gods agree nem. con.
To let the rascals squabble on:
Paris then jogs Lycaon's son
To knock poor Menelaus down;
And whilst the honest quack, Machaon,
A plaster spread the wound to lay on,
A dreadful noise of shouts and drumming
Forewarn'd the Greeks that Troy was coming.
The gen'ral now, the troops to settle,
And show himself a man of mettle,
In a great splutter runs about
To call their trusty leaders out,
Swaggers and bounces, kicks and cuffs,
Some serjeants praises, others huffs;
At last the roysters join in battle,
And clubs, and staves, and potlids rattle.
Hebe prepar'd upon the spot
A jug of purl made piping hot,
Of which she gave each god a cup,
Who sup and blow, and blow and sup.