Burlesque upon burlesque, or, The scoffer scoft being some of Lucians dialogues, newly put into English fustian for the consolation of those who had rather laugh and be merry, then be merry and wise.

DIALOGUE.

Mars and Mercury.

Mars.

HAst heard o'th'loud Rhodomontade That t'other day Jupiter made? Which was, that if we on this fashion, Daily provok't his indignation; He would, if anger'd once again, From Heav'n to Earth let down a Chain, With which he up to him would hale Mankind, the Elements, and all, With such a mighty strength, that though We all had hold of it below, And pull'd to stay't, we could not doo't, But he would pull us up to boot. Now I must needs confess, no one Of all us Deities alone, Is able near, unless he list, To grapple with his Mutton-fist: And he will lose, whoever vies With him at any Exercise:

But to imagine, that all we So brave a jolly Company, Joyn'd altogether, should not be As strong, nay stronger far than he, In truth, in him I do conceive it An arrogancy to believe it, And vanity devoid of wit, So openly to publish it. And yet for all his mighty vaunting, His domineering, and his ranting, All of the Gods, and I and you know, When Neptune, Pallas, and Queen Juno, By combination had trapan'd him, And had intended to have chain'd him; He'd much ado, though his strength such is, To disingage him from their clutches. Nor had he done it for all that (Though now he vapour can and prate) For all his striving, and his strugling, His writhing, wrigling, and his jugling, Nor all his strength, which now so great is; Had not his old friend, Madam Thetis,

In time of danger sent him there, Briareus the Hot-cockle player, With a whole hundred Cluster-fists To disingage him from the Lists. And by my faith he came in season To rescue him from the High-treason, Or else with this my huffing Don, I know not how it would have gone.

Merc.

Prethee hanck up thy tongue again, And do not give it so much rein. These words do make my ears to tingle. 'Tis well that thou and I are single; This language is unsafe, I swear, For thee to speak, or me to hear.

Mars.

Do'st think I have so little wit To talk thus unto all I meet? No friend, I wiser am than fo, I know well whom I speak it to, One, who not only has a Talent In speaking, but in being silent; But should another chance to come Of Mavors, not a word but Mum.