Of constables has done me wrong.
 
 
The goddess heard him under water,
And ran as fast as she could patter:
She saw he'd almost broke his heart,
And, like good mother, took his part:
 
 
My son, I'm vext to hear thee cry;
Come, tell mamma the reason why.
From th' bottom of his wame he sigh'd,
And to his mammy thus reply'd:
 
 
For what that rogue has made me cry,
You know, I'm sure, as well as I:
Yet since you bid me tell my story,
I'll whip it over in a hurry.
What think you that vile scoundrel's done,
That Agamemnon, to your son?
Because his pretty girl was gone,
He must have mine, forsooth, or none.
The Grecians gave to me this prize:
He huffs the Greeks, and damns their eyes.
We went to Thebes, and sack'd a village,
And brought away a world of pillage:
Amongst the plunder that was taken,
Besides fat geese, and eggs, and bacon,
We got some wenches plump and fair,
Of which one fell to that rogue's share:
But in the middle of our feast,
There came a hobbling red-nos'd priest;
In a great wallet that old dreamer
Had brought some presents to redeem her,
And made such humble supplication,
Attended with a fine oration,
That ev'ry Greek, except Atrides,
On the old hobbling parson's side is.
But he, of no one soul afraid,
Swore blood-and-oons he'd keep the maid
And, with an answer most uncivil,
Damn'd the old fellow to the devil.
The priest walk'd home in doleful dumps
(Like Witherington upon his stumps):
But, it is plain, he made a holla
That reach'd his loving friend Apollo;
For he in wrath, most furiously,
Began to smite us hip and thigh;
And had not I found out a prophet,
That told us all the reason of it,
Burn my old shoes, if e'er a sinner
Had now been left to eat a dinner;
But that, as sure as cits of London
Oft leave their spouses' business undone,
And trudge away to Russel-street
Some little dirty whore to meet,
Whilst the poor wife, to cure her dumps,
Works her apprentice to the stumps;
So sure this god, for rage or fun,
Had pepper'd ev'ry mother's son.
'Twas I, indeed, did first advise
To cook him up a sacrifice,
And then his pardon strive to gain
By sending home the wench again;
For which the damn'd confounded churl
Swore he would have my bouncing girl:
And I this minute, you must know,
Like a great fool, have let her go:
For which, no doubt, it will be said
Your son has got a chuckle head.
To Jove then go, and catch him by
The hand, or foot, or knee, or thigh;
Hold him but fast, and coax him well.
And mind you that old story tell,
How you of all the gods held out
When they once rais'd a rebel rout,
And brought a giant from Guildhall
With face so grim he scar'd 'em all:
When once you'd got him rais'd above,
And plac'd him by the side of Jove,
So fast with both his hands he thunder'd,
The rebels swore he'd got a hundred,
Threw down the ropes they'd brought to bind 'em,
And, scamp'ring, never look'd behind 'em:
Tell him, for this, to drive pell mell
The Grecian sons of whores to hell,
That Atreus' son, that stupid fool,
May have no scoundrels left to rule;
And then he'll hang himself for spite,
He durst the boldest Grecian slight.
 
 
His mother's heart was almost broke,
To hear how dolefully he spoke:
But having belch'd, she thus replies,
The salt brine running from her eyes:
 
 
O Killey, since the Fates do stint
Thy precious life, the devil's in't
That thou must likewise bear to boots
This scurvy, mangey rascal's flouts:
But take thy mammy's good advice,
And his thee homeward in a trice;
Or, if thou'd rather choose to stay,
Don't help the dogs in any fray.
Depend upon't, to Jove I'll go,
And let him all the matter know:
He junkets now with swarthy faces
(For he, like men, has all his paces),
And will continue at the feast
Ten or eleven days at least:
Taking, like our Jamaica planters,
Their fill of what our vilest ranters
Would puke at but these kind of beast
Esteem it as a noble feast;
I mean the breaking-up the trenches
Of sooty, sweaty negro wenches
(Though most o' th' planters that thus roam,
Like Jove, have wife enough at home.)
Soon as his guts have got their fill,
I'll tell him all, by Jove I will!
Till he has granted my petition,
Don't stir to keep 'em from perdition;
Not e'en to save their souls, plague rot 'em!
So souse she plung'd, and reach'd the bottom.
 
 
Mean time Ulysses, full of cares,
Had moor'd his boat at Chrysa's stairs:
When sails were furl'd, and all made snug,
They tipp'd the can, and pass'd the jug;
Then fell to work, and brought their store
Of cows and rotten sheep ashore:
This done, the last of all came out
The girl that caus'd this woful rout.
Ulysses, ever on the lurch,
Hurries the girl away to church,
Knowing full well that there he had
Best chance of finding her old dad;
And as he gave her to th' old man,
To lie¹ and cant he thus began:
 
 
I come upon my bended knees,
Thine and Apollo's wrath t' appease;
And that I'm in good earnest, see
Thy girl come back, and ransom-free;
And, what I own is boldly said,
I've brought her with her maidenhead;
For which, I hope, our friend you'll stand,
That Sol may hold his heavy hand,
The parson hugg'd and kiss'd his daughter,
And shak'd the hands of them that brought her
So pleas'd to see the girl again,
He fell to prayers might and main;
And, whilst the Greeks the cattle slay,
The parson thus was heard to pray:
 
 
Apollo, pr'ythee hear me now,
As eke thou didst nine days ago:
As thou at my request didst murder
The Grecians, pr'ythee go no further;
Hear, once again, thy priest's petition,
And mend their most bedaub'd condition.
 
 
Apollo, as the sound drew near,
To ev'ry syllab lent an ear:
And now they fell to cutting throats
Of bulls and oxen, sheep and goats.
After the day-light god was serv'd,
The priest for all the people carv'd.
But how the hungry whoresons scaff'd;
How eagerly the beer they quaff'd,
Till they had left no single chink,
Either to hold more meat or drink,
None can describe: they grew so mellow,
Nothing was heard but whoop and halloo;
Rare songs they sung, and catches too —
(The composition good and true)
Apollo made 'em, but took care
They should not last above a year,
Well knowing that the future race
Of men all knowledge would disgrace,
And that his lines must have great luck,
Not to give place to Stephen Duck.
 
 
At sun-set all hands went from shore
On board their oyster-boat to snore.
I' th' morning, when they hoist their sail,
Apollo lent a mack'rel gale,
With which they nimbly cross'd the main,
And haul'd their boat ashore again.
 
 
But now 'tis time we look about
And find the bold Achilles out:
Pensive he sat, and bit his thumbs;
No comfort yet, no mammy comes:
The days had number'd just eleven,
When Jupiter return'd to heaven;
He'd got his belly full of smacks
From thick-lip'd Ethiopian blacks.
 
 
The mother on her word must think;
So up she mounted in a twink,
Approach'd his godship, whom she took
Fast by the hand, and thus she spoke:
 
 
If ever I had luck to be
Useful in time of need to thee,
(Which, I am sure, you can't deny,
Unless you tell a cursed lie)
Quickly revenge th' affront that's done
By Agamemnon to my son.
Let Hector thrash 'em, if he list,
Till ev'ry Grecian rogue's bepiss'd,
And make them run like frighten'd rats
From mother Dobson's tabby cats.
 
 
Whilst Jove considers what to say,
Onward she goes; she'll have no nay:
 
 
You must with my request comply,
My dearest dad, so don't deny;
But let the heavenly rabble see
Some kindness is reserv'd for me.
 
 
Then answers he who rolls the thunder:
I'm much amaz'd, and greatly wonder,
That you should thus attempt, with tears,
To set my rib and me by th' ears;
This, by my soul! will make rare work:
Juno will rate me like a Turk:
You surely know, and have known long,
The devil cannot match her tongue:
To Troy, I'm sure, I wish full well,
She ne'er forgets that tale to tell:
But his away from hence, lest she
Should spy you holding chat with me.
If I but say I'll grant your suit,
You may depend upon't I'll do't:
With head (observe) I'll make a nod,
That cannot be revers'd by god.
The thund'rer then his noddle shakes,
And Greece, like city custard, quakes.
Thetis, well pleas'd the Greeks to souse,
Dives under water like a goose;
Whilst Jove to th' upper house repairs,
And calls about him all his peers;
Who ran t' attend his call much faster
Than schoolboys run to meet their master.
All silent stood the gaping bevy,
Like sneaking courtiers at a levee,
Juno excepted: fear she scorns,
She hates all manners, damns all forms;
And because Jove had just been talking
With Thetis (nothing more provoking),
Her passion rose, and she ding dong
Would quarrel with him, right or wrong.
 
 
'Tis mighty civil, on my life,
To keep all secrets from your wife:
Is this the method, Mr. Jove,
You take to show your wife your love?
Pray who's that brimstone-looking quean,
With whom you whispering was seen?
Perhaps you're set some secret task,
And I'm impertinent to ask.
Is there a wife 'tween here and Styx,
Like me, would bear your whoring tricks?
But, goodman Roister! I'd have you know,
Though you are Jove, I still am Juno!
 
 
Madam, says Jove, by all this prate,
I partly guess what you'd be at;
You want the secrets to disclose,
Which I conceal from friends and foes;
You only seek your own disquiet;
Secrets to women are bad diet.
A secret makes a desp'rate rumble,
Nor ceases in the gut to grumble
Till vent it finds; then out it flies,
Attended with ten thousand lies;
All characters to pieces tears,
And sets the neighbourhood by th' ears.
What's proper I'll to you relate,
The rest remains with me and Fate:
But from this day I'll order, no man
That's wise shall trust a tattling woman.
 
 
The goddess with the goggle eyes
Roll'd 'em about, and thus replies:
 
 
I find 'twill be in vain to plead,
When once you get it in your head
To contradict your loving wife;
You value neither noise nor strife,
But, spite of all that we can say,
You mules will always have your way.
But yet for Greece I'm sore afraid,
E'er since that cunning white-legg'd jade,
That Thetis, a long conf'rence had;
I'm sure she's hatching something bad,
And hath some mighty favour won
For her dear ranting roaring son?
Else, by my soul, you'd not have given
A nod that shook both earth and heaven;
Perhaps you'll take the whore's-bird's side,
And thrash my Grecians back and hide.
Flux me! quoth Jove, thy jealous pate,
Instead of love, will move my hate.
I tell thee, cunning thou must be
To worm this secret out of me;
'Tis better far, good wife, to cease
To plague me thus, and study peace;
Or if you want to make resistance,
Call all the gods to your assistance;
So all your jackets will I baste,
You'll not rebel again in haste.
 
 
Juno, with face as broad as platter,
Soon found she had mista'en the master;
She relish'd not this surly dish,
So sat her down as mute as fish:
At which the guests were so confounded,
That all their mirth was well nigh drowned
Their knives and forks they every one
Before their greasy plates laid down;
Each mouth was ready cock'd, to beg
Leave to depart, and make a leg;
When Juno's son, ycleped Vulcan,
A special fellow at a full can,
Who was of handicrafts the top,
And kept a noted blacksmith's shop,
Where he made nets, steel caps, and thunder,
And finish'd potlids to a wonder;
He, finding things were going wrong,
And that they'd fall by th' ears ere long,
Starts up, and in a merry strain
Hammer'd a speech from his own brain.
 
 
Quoth he, What pity 'tis that we,
Who should know nought but jollity,
Should scold and squabble, brawl and wrangle,
And about mortal scoundrels jangle!
In peace put we the can about,
Let Englishmen in drink fall out,
And, at the meetings of the trade,
Fight when the reck'ning should be paid.
Mother, you know not what you're doing;
To CALLOT thus will be your ruin;
He'll some time, in a dev'lish fury,
Do you some mischief, I'll assure you:
Yet, I'll lay sixpence to a farthing,
He'll kiss you, if you ask his pardon.
This said, a swingeing bowl he takes,
And drank it off for both their sakes;
Then with a caper fill'd another,
Which he presented to his mother:
 
 
Not courtier-like I hand this bowl:
But take it from an honest soul,
That means and thinks whate'er he says;
It won't be so in future days:
Here, drink Jove's health, and own his sway:
You know all women must obey.
When once my father's in a passion,
He's dev'lish cross, hear my relation:
In your good cause I felt his twist,
My leg he seiz'd in his strong wrist;
In vain it was with him to grapple,
He grasp'd me as you would an apple;
And from his mutton-fist when hurl'd,
For three long days and nights I twirl'd;
At last upon the earth fell squash,
My legs were broken all to smash:
'Tis true, they're set, as you may see,
But most folks think damn'd awkwardly.
He then the bowl, with clownish grace,
Fill'd round, and wip'd his sooty face,
Then limp'd away into his place.
 
 
This cur'd them all from being dull,
And made 'em laugh their bellies full:
Once more their teeth to work they set,
And laid about 'em till they sweat,
Drinking, like well-fed aldermen,
A bumper every now and then,
Which they took care their guts to put in
Whilst t' other slice of beef was cutting;
For they, like cits, allow'd no crime
So great as that of losing time,
At home, abroad, or any meeting
Where the debate must end in eating.
Now they were in for't, all day long
They booz'd about, and had a song:
The fiddlers scrap'd both flat and sharp;
Apollo thrum'd the old Welch harp:
Nine ballad-singers from the street
Were fetch'd, with voices all so sweet,
Compar'd with them, Mansoli's squeaking
Would seem like rusty hinges creaking.
At sun-set², with a heavy head,
Each drunkard reel'd him home to bed,
Vulcan, who was the royal coiner,
Besides both carpenter and joiner,
Had built for every god a house,
And scorn'd to take a single sous.
Now night came on, the thund'rer led
His helpmate to her wicker bed;
There they agreed, and where's the wonder?
His sceptre rais'd, she soon knock'd under.