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Her breath (thus in the arms fhe most affected)

She breathes into the air (before fufpected)

The whilft he lifts her body from the ground, And with his tears doth wash 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 fteep
In a cold valley-fountain of that ground:
Which borrow'd from his holy fire of love,
A dateless lively heat ftill to endure,
And grew a feething bath, which yet men prove
Against strange maladies a fovereign cure.
miftrefs' eyes love's brand new fired,
The boy for trial needs would touch my breaft;
I fick withal the help of bath defired,

But at my

And thither hied a fad diftemper'd gueft:

But found no cure, the bath for my help lies,
When Cupid got new fire, my miftrefs' eyes.

The little love-god lying once asleep,
Laid by his fide his heart in flaming brand,
Whilft many nymphs that vow'd chafte 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 fo the general of hot defire

Was fleeping, 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 difeas'd; but I, my miftrefs' thrall,

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

That Menelaus was the Caufe 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 fhe receives her guest.
What madness was this, Menelaus, tay?
Thou art abroad, whilft in thy houfe doth ftay,
Under the self-fame roof, thy gueft, and love:
Madman unto the hawk thou trufts the dove.
And who but fuch a gull, would give to keep
Unto the mountain-wolf, full folds of fheep?
Helen is blamelefs, fo is Paris too,

And did what thou, or I myself would do.
The fault is thine, I tell thee to thy face,
By limiting thefe lovers, time and place..
From thee the feeds of all thy wrongs are grown,
Whofe counfels have they follow'd but thine own?
Alack! what fhould they do? abroad thou art,
At home thou leav'ft 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 fomewhat refembling this.

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


Thou know'ft the amorous Helen fair and sweet;
And yet without her didft thou fail to Crete.
And thou waft blithe, and merry all the way;
But when thou faw'ft fhe 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 ftout Achilles, when his lovely bride,
Brifeis, was difpos'd to great Atride,
Nor was he vainly mov'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 wife 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 fnare.

The god of war doth in his brow discover
The perfect and true pattern of a lover.
Nor could the goddess Venus be fo cruel
To deny Mars (foft kindness is a jewel
In any woman, and becomes her well)

In this the queen of love doth moft excel. [flouted
(Oh Heaven!) how often have they mockt and
The fmith's polt-foot (whilft nothing he misdoubted.)
Made jefts of him, and his begrimed trade;
And his fmoog'd vifage, black with coal-duft 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 firft the lovers hide with fear
From every jealous eye, and captious ear.
The god of war, and love's lafcivious dame,
In publick view were full of bashful shame.
But the Sun fpies how this sweet pair agree,
(O what, bright Phoebus, can be hid from thee?)
The Sun both fees and blabs the fight forthwith,
And in all poft he speeds to tell the smith.
O Sun! what bad examples doft thou show?
What thou in fecret feeft, muft all men know?
For filence, afk a bribe from her fair treasure ;
She'll grant thee that shall make thee fwell with

The god, whofe face is smoog'd 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 rife; the queen of love fhews all.
Mars chafes, and Venus weeps, neither can flinch;
Grappled they lie, in vain they kick and wince.
Their legs are one within another ty'd,
Their hands fo faft, that they can nothing hide.
Amongst these high spectators, one by chance,
'That faw them naked in this pitfall dance,
Thus to himself said; if it tedious be,
Good god of war, beftow thy place on me.

The Hiftory 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 ftain, he was of milky hue.
This fair fteer did the heifers of the groves
Defire to bear, as prince of all the droves.
But moft Pafiphae, with adulterous breath,
Envies the wanton heifers to the death.
'Tis faid, that for this bull the doating lafs
Did ufe to crop young boughs, and mow fresh grass;
Nor was the amorous Cretan queen afeard,
To grow a kind companion to the herd.
Thus thro' the champian fhe is madly borne,
And a wild bull to Minos gives the horn.
'Tis not for bravery he can love or loath thee,
Then why Pafphae doft thou richly clothe thee?
Why fhould'ft thou thus thy face and looks prepare?
What mak'ft thou with thy glafs ordering thy hair?
Unless thy glafs could make thee feem 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 lafcivious thoughts are ftill 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, fhe is contented
To use the groves, borne by the rage of mind,
Even as a fhip with a full eastern wind.
Some of thefe ftrumpet heifers the queen flew,
Her fmoking altars their warm bloods imbrue;
Whilft by the facrificing priest she stands,
And gripes their trembling entrails in her hands:

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