They whirled the football of conspiring Fate,
And brake the shins of smug-fac’d Mulciber:
With that, grim Pluto all in Scarlet blue,
Gave fair Persephone a kiss of Brass,
At which all Hell danc’d Trenchmore in a string.
Whilst Acheron and Termagant did sing,
“The Mold-warp,” all this while in white broth bath’d,
Did Carol Didoes happiness in love,
Upon a Gridiron made of whiting-mops,
Unto the tune of “John Come Kiss Me Now,”