A health Jove began to the best end of Juno, By which they had often
been "Junctus in Uno," The bowl went about with much simp'ring and
winking, Each God lick'd his lips, at the health he was drinking;
Whilst Venus and Pallas look'd ready to rave, That her Goddesship's
scut should such preference have; The bowl being large, hoping the
rather Their amiable rumps might have swam altogether. Thus both being
vex'd, Venus swore by her power, The nectar had something in't, made it
drink sowre: Which Pallas confirm'd by her shield and her sword, And
vow'd 'twas as musty besides as a T----d But Juno perceiving 'twas out
of ill-nature, That Venus and Pallas abus'd the good creature, Because
to her Peacock, precedence was given, As the best and finest fledg'd
bird in the Heaven; Insinuating under a wink and a snicker, As if the
good health had corrupted the liquor: And finding they'd cast this
reflection upon her, In Juno 'twas justice to stand by her honour: Who
raising her bum from her seat in a passion, To Venus and Pallas she
made this oration: "Pray Goddesses! What do you mean, I beseech it, To
basely reflect on my Tippet-de-wichet? I know by your smiles, leering
looks, and your winks, And your items and jeers, you'd insinuate it
stinks: Dispraising the nectar, well knowing you meant, That a health
to my Tw----t gave the juice an ill scent. Nay, laugh if you please,
for I know I'm extreamly To blame, thus to blurt out a word so
unseemly. But all know the proverb, wherein it is said, That a What is
a What, and a Spade is a Spade; And now I'm provok'd, for a truth I may
tell it, Tho' as red as a fox, yet it smells like a vi'let. By Jove
I'll be judge, if I am not as sweet, I may say, as a primrose, from
head to my feet. And he, you may swear, who's my husband and lover, Has
kist me, and felt me, and smelt me all over, And if he can say an ill
scent does arise, From my ears, or my armpits, my c----t, or my thighs,
Like rotten old Cheshire, low Vervane or Ling, And altho' I'm goddess,
I'll hang in a string. Your self, Lady Fair, that arose from the sea,
Sure will not presume to be fragrant as me: The spark that has laid at
your feet all his trophies, Has smelt you sometimes strong as pickl'd
anchovies: But what if he has, were you ranker and older, You'd be e'en
good enough for a smith or a soldier." These words put the Goddess of
Love in a fire, And make her look redder than Mars that was by her. "My
beauty," said Venus, "obtain'd the Gold Apple." "Mine A----s Kiss,"
says Juno, "you shall have a couple. I'd have you to know, Queen of
Sluts, I defie you, And all you can say, or the bully that's by you.
And as for that Tomboy that boasts she can wield, In quarrels and
brangles, her lance and her shield, That never yet tasted the heavenly
blessing, But always lov'd fighting, much better than kissing: I know
she'd be glad to be ravish'd by force, By some lusty God, that's as
strong as a horse. But who'd be so forward, unless he was tipsie, To
choose for a miss, such a masculine gipsie? A termagant dowdy, a nasty
old maid; Who flights copulation, as if she was spay'd: Which makes me
believe, that under her bodice, She wants the dear gem, that's the
pride of a Goddess." Now Pallas, enrag'd at so high a reflection, Cry'd
out, "I thank Jove, I am made in perfection, And ev'ry thing have, from
a hole to a hair, Becoming the Goddess of Wisdom and War; As Paris well
knew, when he took a survey, Of those parts where a Goddess's
excellence lay; Who strok'd it and smil'd, when my legs he had parted,
And peep'd till I thought his poor eyes would have started. Then
licking his lips, did aver to be true, I was each way as full well
accomplish'd as you. Indeed, Madam Juno, I'll therefore be plain, If
ever I hear these reflections again: I vow as a Goddess, and no mortal
sinner, I shall have no patience, but handle your pinner." With that
the Great Jupiter rose up in hot anger, And looking on Pallas, was
ready to bang her. "Pox take ye," says he, "is your scolding a lecture,
That ought to be preach'd o'er a bowl of good nectar? To drink we came
hither, to sing and be civil; As gods, to be merry, and not play the
devil. Why, mortals on earth, that live crowded in allies, As
laundresses, porters, poor strumpets and bullies; When got o'er a
gallon of belch, or a sneaker Of punch, could not wrangle more over
their liquor. And you that are Goddesses, thus to be squabbling, As if
you were bred up to scow'ring and dabbling! And all for a fig, or a
fart, or a feather, Or some silly thing that's as trivial as either!
For shame, my Fair Goddesses, bridle your passions, And make not in
heaven such filthy orations About your bumfiddles; a very fine jest!
When the heavens all know, they but stink at the best. Tho' ye think
you much mend with your washes the matter, And help the ill-scent with
your orange flower water; But when you've done all, 'tis but playing
the fool, And like stifling a T----d, in a cedar close stool: Besides,
Gods of judgment have often confest That the natural scent without art
is the best." The Goddesses all, at these sayings, took snuff, And rose
from their seats in a damnable huff: Their frowns and their blushes,
they mingled together, And went off in a passion, I do not know
hither.
"Here's another fine burlesque poem I'll read, if you don't mind,"
continued Frank, "it's called 'Vulcan and Venus.'"