VULCAN

Make hast with that shield, see hammered well, For when it's done I'll giue't my father Jove, It's of the purest mettle Lemnos yields. Pyragmon yes, that mass must be wrought well And soundly tempered, bid your fellow Cyclops Work lustily, it must be soon dispatched. No matter when, the Huswiffe's too fine fingered, And says, the very smoke my Fordge does cast Chokes her, the very air of Lemnos (man) Blasts her white cheeks, she scarce will let me kiss her, But she makes vergisse faces, says my visadge Smug'd thus with cole-dust, does infect her beauty, And makes her wear a beard, she's, sure, in Paphos, Cypress, or Candy, she's all for play While we Jove's thunders hammer hard all day. Had I not be derived from Godlike seed, Trust me Pyragmon I had don't indeed. But to the Forge, for I Apollo spy, He that sees all things with the days bright eye. Good morrow Phœbus, what's the news abroad For thou seest all things in the world are done, Men act by daylight, or the sighed of Sun. Thrice happy Phœbus, That while poor Vulcan is confined to Lemnos Hast every Dam these pleasures. What news else. Could not God Phœbus bring me to see this pa stime. There's simple doing. God Mars. A bed; with whom? some pretty wench I warrant. Tell me good Phœbus, That when I meet him I may flout God Mars, Tell me, but tell me truly on thy life. Out on her whore, out on him Cuckold-maker, Phœbus I'll be revenge on great God Mars, Who, while I hammer here his swords and shields, Hammers upon my head, I will complain To Jove, and all the Gods, and tell them flat I am a Cuckold. Enough, I have devised a secret snare, A draw-net, which I'll place upon the Couch Where they still use to bed, a wire so tempered, And of such fineness to deceive the eye. So catch them when they are at it, and by this I may presume, and be sure I am Cuckold. If I can catch them, all the Gods I'll call To see my wrongs, there sports I'll near to mar, And venge me on that lecherous God of war. By her baud Charis, this I know the place, Which with adulterate pastimes they pollute. Here will I set my pitfall for these birds, And catch them in the closure of this wire, So, so, al's fit, my snare in order placed, Happy the time, that I this Charis traced. Gramercy my kind wife. Out of her Whore. What, good Phœbus speak. It's well, your sports are fair. God Mars, good words; This is a fight in which you use no swords. You have left your steel behind. Away you whore, Il'e keep you fast, and call the Gods to see Your practice, Neptune, Jove, and Mercury, Phœbus and Juno, from your spheres look down, And see the cause I wear a forked crown. To Gods and men let it be fully known I am a Cuckold. Now since read shame your cheeks with blood hath died, I am revenged, and see my net's untied. For my partly (o you Gods!) what's passed is passed, And what is once done, cannot be recalled: If Vulcan in this jest hath pleased the Gods, All his own wrongs he freely can forgive. Venus we are friends, to Lemno we will hast, And never more record what's done and passed. Venus speaks good sense, That's certain now, which was before suspense. I am undone, be warned by me o men, Although you know your wives false, where and when, Take them not in the manner, though you may: They that with fear before, now blushless stray, Their gilded it's better to suspect then know, So you may take some partly of that you owe. Where I by seeking her good name to thrall, Have made my self a scorn, and quite left all. I'll tell thee man, I was when I was born A pretty smug knave, and my father Jove Delighted much to dance me in his lap. Upon a time as he was toying with me In his high house above, that Phaeton Had at that instant set the world a fire, My father when he saw heavens bases smoke, Earth burn, and Neptune's broth to sees with heat; But startles up to thunderstrike the lad, And lets me fallen: down tumbled I towards the earth: I fell through all the Planets by degrees, From Saturn first, so by the Moon at last: And from the Moon down into Lemnos Isle Where I still live, and halt upon my fallen, No marvel if't lamed me, for, Pyragmon. How high I tumbled, who can guess aright, Falling a Summer's day from morn to night? No more.