Come, Vulcan, with tools and with tackles, 25
To knocke off my troublesome shackles;[857]
Bid Charles make ready his waine
To fetch me my senses againe.[858]
Last night I heard the dog-star bark;
Mars met Venus in the darke; 30
Limping Vulcan het[859] an iron barr,[860]
And furiouslye made at the god of war:[861]
Mars with his weapon laid about,[862]
But Vulcan's temples had the gout,
For his broad horns did so hang in his light,[863] 35
He could not see to aim his blowes aright:[864]
Mercurye the nimble post of heaven,
Stood still to see the quarrell;[865]
Gorrel-bellyed[866] Bacchus, gyant-like,
Bestryd a strong-beere barrell. 40
To mee he dranke,
I did him thanke,
But I could get no cyder;
He dranke whole butts
Till he burst his gutts, 45
But mine were ne'er the wyder.
Poore naked Tom is very drye:
A little drinke for charitye!
Harke, I hear Acteon's horne!
The huntsmen whoop and hallowe: 50
Ringwood, Royster, Bowman, Jowler,
All the chase do followe.
The man in the moone drinkes clarret,
Eates powder'd beef, turnip, and carret,
But a cup of old Malaga sack 55
Will fire the bushe at his backe.
FOOTNOTES:
[845] [Ver. 2. or not in MS.]