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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 botom she receives her guest.
What madness was this, Menelaus, fay?
Thou art abroad, whilst in thy house doth stay,
Under the self. fame roof, thy guest, and love :
Madman! unto the hawk chou trusts the dove.
And who but such a gull, would give to keep
Unto the mountain wolf, full folds of sheep?
Helen is blameless, fo is Paris tuo,
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 to embrace him, he falls in :
And, Paris, I acquit thee of the lin.

And in another Place fomewhat resembling this.

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

Thou know'st the amorous Helen fair and sweet ;
And yet without her didit thou fail to Crete.
And thou wait blithe, and merry all the way ;
But when thou faw't he was the Trojan's prey,
Then wait thou mad for her, and for thy life,
Thou canst not now one minute want thy wife.
So ftjui Achilles, when his lovely bride,
Briseis, was diipos'd to great Atride,
Nor was be 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 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 (foft kindness is a jewel
In any woman, and becomes her well)
In this the queen of love doth most excel.
(Oh Heaven!) how often have they mockt and Aouted
The smith's polt-foot (whilst nothing he misdoubted)
Made jests of him, and his begrimed trade ;
And his smoog'd visage 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 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 fpies how this sweet pair agree,
(O what, bright Phoebus, can be hid from thee?)
The Sun both fees and blabs the fight forth with,
And in all post he speeds to tell the smith.
O Sun! what bad examples doft thou show?
What thou in secret feest, must all men know?
For filence, ask a bribe from her fair treasure ;
She'll grant thee that thall make thee swell with

pleasure.
The god, whose 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 set, 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 flinch; Grappled they lie, in vain they kick and wince. Their legs are one within another ty’d, Their hand so fast, that they can nothing hide. Amongst these high spectators, one by chance, That faw them naked in this pitfall dances Thus to himself faid; if it tedious be, Good god of war, bestow thy place on me.

I 2

The History how the Minotaur was begot.

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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

grew ;
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 faid, that for this bull the doating lass
Did use to crop young boughs, and mow 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 Paliphae 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 fhip with a full eastern wind.
Some of these strumpet heifers the queen sew,
Her smoking altars their warm bloods imbrue;
Whilft by the facrificing priest she ftands,
And gripes their trembling entrails in her hands :

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At length, the captain of the herd beguild
With a cow's skin, by curious art compil'd,
The longing queen obtains her full defire,
And in her infant's form bewrays the fire.

This Minotaur, when he came to Growth, was inclos'd

in the Labyrinth, which was made by the curious Arts-master Dedalus, whose Tale likewise we thus pursue.

When Dedalus the labyrinth had built,
In which t’include the queen Pasiphie's guilt,
And that the time was now expired full,
T' inclose the Minotaur, half man, half bull:
Kneeling, he says, Juft Minos end my moans,
And let my native soil intomb my

bones :
Or if, dread sovereign, i deserve. no grace,
Look with a piteous eye on my son's face ;.
And grant me leave, from whence we are exil'd,
Or pity me, if you deny my child.

This, and much more, he speaks, but all in vain, The king both son and father will derain : Which he perceiving, says; Now, now, 'tis fit, To give the world cause to admire my wit: Both land and sea are watch'd by day and night; Nor land nor fea lies open to our flight, Only the air remains; then let us try To cut a passage thro' the air and fly. Jove be auspicious in my enterprize, I cover not to mount above the skies : But make this refuge, since I can prepare No means to Ay my lord but thro' the air. Make me immortal, bring me to the brim Of the black Stygian water Styx, I'll swim...

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