Tho' when you first heard, by
my patting-shoe tread, My approach to your Whoreship's adulterous bed,
I know you'd have flown with your coats and your bodice, And afterwards
vow'd 'twas some other lewd Goddess; But my net was too strong, it
prevented your flying, And so put a stop to your swearing and lying.
Besides, that the Gods might behold what a Slut Of a Beautiful Queen
they amongst them had got, I call'd 'em about, that their Honours might
stand, And be pimps to your Goddesship's bus'ness in hand, That in case
you the truth shou'd hereafter deny, I might call the whole Heavens to
witness you lie." "And what did you get?" cries the amorous dame, "For
the pains that you took, but a Cuckoldy Name; 'Tis true you're
confirmed you've a Whore for your wife, Pray is that any comfort or
ease to your life; And have made it appear to the Gods as a jest, That
your wife's reputation is none of the best; Does that make your labour
more easy or sweet, Or give you more gust to your drink or your meat?
'Tis true, you are fam'd for the net you have made, Pray what did you
catch in't but horns for your head; You know that your rival don't
value a trap, Or a net, any more than a child or a clap; A soldier is
never asham'd of his vices, But rather is proud of a Goddess's kisses;
And thinks it adds more to a hero's renown, To subdue a fair lady than
conquer a town; Your spite must be therefore intended alone, Against
me, and that my little faults might be known; Since 'tis as it is, I am
very well pleas'd, Your head shall be loaded, my tail shall be eas'd;
For since you have publish'd my shame and disgrace, And have made me a
jest to the heavenly race; I'll be impudent now, and whenever I meet,
My dear favourite Mars, tho' it be in the street; If a bulk be but
near, I will never more dally, He shall, if it pleases him, ay marry
shall he; Thus all you shall get by your open detection, Of one silly
error in female affection, Is a wife that will cuckold you worse out of
spite, Now she's catch'd, than before she e're did for delight; To
punish thy head and heart, that very vice, Which I us'd but in private
whilst honour was nice; I'll publickly now practice over and o'er, Till
thou'rt fain'd for a Cuckold and I for a Whore." Cries Vulcan, "Could
ever man think that a Goddess, Admir'd for her charms by such numbers
of noddies, Should ever be curst with so rampant a tail, That will
wallow more love-sap, than I can do ale; A pox on your rump,