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Her breath (thus in the arms she most affected)
She breathes into the air (before suspected)
The whilst he lifts her body from the ground,
And with his tears doth wath her bleeding wound.

Cupid's Treachery.

Cupid laid by his brand, and fell asleep;
A maid of Dian's this advantage found,
And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep
In a cold valley-fountain of that ground:
Which borrow'd from his holy fire of love,
A dateless lively heat still to endure,
And grew a seething bath, which yet men prove
Against strange maladies a sovereign cure.
But at my mistress' eyes love's brand new fired,
The boy for trial needs would touch my breast;
I fick withal the help of bath defired,
And thither hied a fad distemper'd guett:

But found no cure, the bath for my help lies,

When Cupid got new fire, my mistress' eyes. The little love-god lying once asleep, Laid by his fide his heart in Aaming brand, Whilst many nymphs that vow'd chaste life to keep, Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand, The faire votary took up that fire, Which many legions of true hearts had warm’d; And so the general of hot defire Was sleeping, by a virgin hand disarm'd. This brand the quenched in a cool well by, Which from love's fire took heat perpetual, Growing a bath and healthful remedy For men diseas’d; but I, my mistress' thrall,

Came there for cure, and this by that I prove,
Love's fire heats water, water cools not love.

That Menelaus was the Cause of his own Wrongs. When Menelaus from his house is gone, Poor Helen is afraid to lie alone; And to allay these fears (lodg’d in her breast) In her warm bosom she receives her guest. What madness was this, Menelaus, tay? Thou art abroad, whilst in thy house doth stay, Under the self-same roof, thy guest, and love : Madman ! unto the hawk thou truits the dove. And who but such a gull, would give to keep Unto the mountain-wolf, full folds of sheep? Helen is blameless, so is Paris too, And did what thou, or I myself would do. The fault is thine, I tell thee to thy face, By limiting these lovers, time and place. From thee the seeds of all thy wrongs are grown, Whose counsels have they follow'd but thine own? Alack! what should they do? abroad thou art, At home thou leav'st thy guest to play thy part. To lie alone, the poor queen is afraid, In the next room an amorous stranger staid ; Her arms are ope t'embrace him, he falls in : And, Paris, I acquit thee of the fin.

And in another Place somewhat resembling this,

Orestes liked, but not loved dearly
Hermione, till he had lost her clearly.
Sad Menelaus ! why dost thou lament
Thy late mishap? I prithee be content.


Thou know'st the amorous Helen fair and sweet;
And yet without her didst thou fail to Crete.
And thou waft blithe, and merry all the way;
But when thou saw'ft she was the Trojan's prey,
Then waft thou mad for her, and for thy life,
Thou canst not now one minute want thy wife.
So stout Achilles, when his lovely bride,
Briseis, was dispos’d to great Atride,
Nor was he vainly moy'd, Atrides too.
Offer'd no more, than he of force must do.
I should have done as much, to set her free;
Yet I (Heaven knows) am not so wise as he.

Vulcan was Jupiter's Smith, an excellent Workman,

on whom the Poets father many rare Works, among which I find this one.

Mars and Venus.

This tale is blaz'd thro' Heaven, how once un'ware,
Venus and Mars were took in Vulcan's snare.
The god of war doth in his brow discover
The perfect and true pattern of a lover.
Nor could the goddess Venus be so cruel
To deny Mars (soft kindness is a jewel

any woman, and becomes her well)
In this the queen of love doth most excel. [flouted
(Oh Heaven!) how often have they mockt and
The smith's polt-foot (whilst nothing he misdoubted.)
Made jefts of him, and his begrimed trade;
And his smoog'd visage, black with coal-dust made.
Mars, tickled with loud laughter, when he saw
Venus like Vulcan limp, to halt and draw

One foot behind another, with sweet grace,
To counterfeit his lame uneven pace.
Their meetings first the lovers hide with fear
From every jealous eye, and captious ear.
The god of war, and love's lascivious dame,
In publick view were full of bashful shame.
But the Sun spies how this sweet pair agree,
(O what, bright Phæbus, can be hid from thee?)
The Sun both sees and blabs the fight forthwith,
And in all post he speeds to tell the smith.
O Sun! what bad examples dost thou show?
What thou in secret feest, muft all men know?
For filence, ask a bribe from her fair treasure;
She'll grant thee that shall make thee swell with

pleasure. The god, whose face is smoogd with smoke and

fire, Placeth about their bed a net of wire; So quaintly made, that it deceives the eye. Strait (as he feigns) to Lemnos he must hie. The lovers meet, where he the train hath fet, And both lie fast catch'd in a wiry net : He calls the gods, the lovers naked fprall, And cannot rise; the queen of love shews all. Mars chafes, and Venus weeps, neither can finch; j Grappled they lie, in vain they kick and wince. Their legs are one within another ty'd, Their hands so fast, that they can nothing hide. Amongst these high spectators, one by chance, 'That saw them naked in this pitfall dance, Thus to himself said ; if it tedious be, Good god of war, bestow thy place on me.

The History how the Minotaur was begot.

Ida of cedars, and tall trees stands full,
Where fed the glory of the herd, a bull
Snow-white, fave 'twixt his horns one spot there

Save that one stain, he was of milky hue.
This fair steer did the heifers of the groves
Desire to bear, as prince of all the droves.
But most Pasiphae, with adulterous breath,
Envies the wanton heifers to the death.
'Tis said, that for this bull the doating lafs
Did use to crop young boughs, and inow fresh grass ;
Nor was the amorous Cretan queen afеard,
To grow a kind companion to the herd.
Thus thro' the champian she is madly borne,
And a wild bull to Minos gives the horn.
'Tis not for bravery he can love or loath thee,
Then why Pasiphae dost thou richly clothe thee?
Why should'st thou thus thy face and looks prepare?
What mak'st thou with thy glass ordering thy hair?
Unless thy glass could make thee seem a cow;
But how can horns grow on that tender brow?
If Minos please thee, no adulterer seek thee ;
Or if thy husband Minos do not like thee,
But thy lascivious thoughts are still increas’d,
Deceive him with a man, not with a beast.
Thus by the queen the wild woods are frequented,
And leaving the king's bed, she is contented
To use the groves, borne by the rage of mind,
Even as a ship with a full eastern wind.
Some of these strumpet beifers the queen flew,
Her smoking altars their warm bloods imbrue;
Whilft by the sacrificing priest she stands,
And gripes their trembling entrails in her hands :

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