Make your heart jump within your belly:
His rogueship from the flowers and trees
Would call the very birds and bees.
 
 
Then Priam thus: Amidst the throng
I spy a man exceeding strong;
Shoulders so spread, and such a chest,
He's stole a giant's back and breast:
So strong a carl you'll seldom see;
My lovely girl, who can it be?
Ajax, replies fair Leda's daughter,
Is he you're now inquiring after:
Of him the Grecians well may crack,
For he upon his brawny back
Could lug the city gates, when bid,
As well as ever Samson did.
The next that looks this way to see us,
Is the far-fam'd Idomeneus:
With my good man he once took quarter,
And look'd so trim, my mouth did water.
As for the rest, if I judge rightly,
They're fellows that can box it tightly.
But all this while, old dad, have I
Been looking sharp, if I can spy
A pair of twins, and each my brother
Castor is one, and Pollux t'other.
But hap the colonels fight no more,
Or scorn to quarrel for a whore.
 
 
Poor Helen dreamt not on her bed,
Her brothers were as herrings dead;
That the last doublet they put on
Was made of Bath or Portland stone,
Where, free from broils, they slept secure,
And dreamt of whores and rogues no more.
And now both beadles did with care
The lambs for sacrifice prepare;
But first in order form the ring,
And thus they call the Trojan king:
 
 
Arise, O king! come down with speed.
And lend a hand in time of need
To seal the truce; for there's no troth,
Unless you come and take the oath.
Your son and famous Menelau
For Nell agree to pull a crow:
And he that makes his rival yield,
Or lays him flat upon the field,
May unmolested take his fill,
And tousel Helen when he will;
That we may cease this curs'd fatigue,
And join in everlasting league;
Trojans may plough their lands, and Greece
Return, and kiss their wives in peace.
 
 
Priam, though with a heavy heart,
Gave orders for his apple-cart,
A vehicle contriv'd with care
To serve for cart or one-horse chair;
Then, with Antenor by his side,
Like two grave cits they took a ride
Quite through the Scean gate, among
The Trojan and the Grecian throng:
When Agamemnon 'midst the crew,
And eke the sly Ulysses too,
Both rose, and made a handsome bow.
And now the blue-coat beadles, grac'd
With large red caps all silver-lac'd,
The method of the farce to fix,
Some Greek and Trojan beverage mix;
Then pour a little on the hand
Of each commander, as they stand;
But have our priestly way of thinking,
To save the most for private drinking:
Lastly, – this grand affair to close,
His knife the Grecian gen'ral draws,
And cutting from the beasts some hair,
The beadles gave each chief a share,
To show that all things should be fair.
Then with a thund'ring voice, that made
A dev'lish noise, to Jove they pray'd:
 
 
O Jupiter! who every Friday
Art worshipp'd on a mount call'd Ida:
O Phœbus! and thou mother Earth!
That gives to thieves and lawyers birth:
O demons! and infernal furies!
Whose counsels aid Westminster juries:
Thou discord-making fiend I that trudges
The six months' circuits with the judges;
And thou, the hellish imp, that brings
Brimstone to singe all wicked kings!
Hear what we promise, and depend on't,
We'll keep our words, or mark the end on't.
Should Paris drub this Menelaus;
To pox and poverty betray us,
If we don't leave the brimstone Helen
Safe in her present Trojan dwelling
For Paris' use! Much good may't do him,
And make her true and faithful to him;
Whilst we poor devils will depart,
And trudge it home with all our heart.
But if by Menelaus' blows
Paris should get a bloody nose,
They shall again restore his Nelly,
With what belongs her back and belly;
A forfeit too consent to pay
For stealing of the girl away;
And Paris cannot think it much
To pay a piece for every touch:
If they refuse, again we'll fight,
And force the rogues to do us right.
With that he seiz'd the sheep by th' crown.
And cut their throats or knock'd them down
By death they soon were overtaken,
Though they kick'd hard to save their bacon.
The chiefs then tipp'd, the other round,
And pour'd a little on the ground;
Adding withal a shorter prayer,
Because they'd not much time to spare:
Hear, Jove, and all ye gods on high!
Whose vicars say you hate a lie
(Though amongst them, for lies and swearing,
There's scarce a barrel better herring),
Whoever takes a thing in hand,
And will not to their bargain stand,
May their heart's blood run out much quicker
Than from the jug we pour this liquor;
And may their wives such harlots be,
That a whole parish can't serve three!
Thus both the armies clubb'd a prayer,
Which Jove refus'd, and kick'd in air.
Now, when these popish rites were done,
Old square-toes hasten'd to be gone:
 
 
It will be rather hard, quoth he,
For one so very old as me,
Bruises and broken pates to see:
But Jove knows best, who rules us all,
Which knave shall stand, or which shall fall.
To stay within yond' walls I choose,
And be the last to hear bad news:
Then instantly his chair ascended;
Antenor by his side attended:
But first, and rightly did he judge it,
He stuff'd both lambs within his budget.
 
 
Ulysses then, and Hector stout,
The limits of the fight mark'd out:
They both agreed that chance might try
Who first should let his broomstick fly.
The people pray on bended knees,
And mutter out such words as these:
 
 
O Jupiter! who hast by odds
The greatest head of all the gods,
Let him that did this mischief brew
Return with ribs all black and blue;
Or let him be demolish'd quick,
And sent full gallop to Old Nick!
Such rogues once hang'd, all wars would cease,
And soldiers eat their bread in peace.
 
 
Hector, who was a wary chap
At pitch and chuck, or hustle-cap,
An old Scotch bonnet quickly takes,
In which he three brass farthings shakes:
Then turn'd his head without deceit,
To show them th he scorn'd to cheat;
And cries aloud, Here goes, my boy,
'Tis heads for Greece, and tails for Troy;
Then turns the cap: Great Troy prevails,
Two farthings out of three were tails,
Paris now arms himself in haste,
And ty'd his jacket round his waist
With a buff belt, and then with 'traps
About his legs some hay-bands wraps;
To guard his heart he closely press'd
A sheet of tin athwart his breast;
His trusty sword across his breech
Was hung, to be within his reach;
A horse's tail, just like a mop,
He stuck upon his scull-cap's top.
Thus arm'd complete, with care and skill,
He seem'd as stout as Bobadil:
And Menelaus, you might see,
Appear'd as stout and fierce as he.
Ready for fight, they both look'd sour,
And eyed each other o'er and o'er.
Paris puts on a warlike phiz,
And from his hand his staff goes whiz,
Which lent the Grecian targe a thump,
And then upon the ground fell plump.
His broomstaff then, with aim as true,
The cuckold at the Trojan threw;
But ere he spent his ammunition,
He sent to Jove a small petition:
 
 
Mayst please my good design to help,
And let me souse this lech'rous whelp;
That men may cease to do amiss,
And not in others' fish-ponds fish!
Thus, like Old Noll, he coin'd a pray'r,
Then sent his broomstick through the air
With such a vengeance did it fall,
Through the tin-plates it bor'd a hole,
And tore his doublet and his shirt;
But to his guts did little hurt;
Because the knave, by bending low,
Escap'd the fury of the blow.
Some think he daub'd his breeks that hit,
But that remains a query yet.
The Greek, who did not often judge ill,
Pursu'd th' advantage with his cudgel,
And laid about at such a rate,
As if he meant to break his pate;
But, as his jobber-noul he rapp'd,
His stick in twenty pieces snapp'd.
Vex'd to the guts, he lifts his eyes,
And mutt'ring to himself, he cries:
 
 
This rascal's jacket I had dusted,
If Jupiter could have been trusted;
But honest men he keeps at distance,
And lends to whores and rogues assistance.
Just when I had secur'd my prize,
My lousy stick in pieces flies.
This said, he gave a hasty snap
At the horse-tail upon his cap,
And lugg'd most stoutly at his crown,
In hopes to pull the varlet down:
The more he lugg'd to end the farce,
The more the Trojan hung an arse:
Still he haul'd on with many a bob,
And certainly had done his job,
Because so firmly was his cap
Ty'd with a tinsel'd leather strap,
That though the knave began to cough,
The de'il a bit would it come off:
But watchful Venus came in season,
Before the Greek had stopp'd his weasand;
Her scissars from her side she whipp'd,
And in a twink the stay-band snipp'd.
The Greek, who thought he well had sped,
And pull'd off both his cap and head,
Was vex'd to find, instead of full cap,
He'd only got an empty skull-cap:
In grievous wrath, away he threw it.
 
 
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.