The Brazen Age (The Age of Brass) · chunk 31 of 40
Heywood, Thomas · published 1613 · first performed or written 1611 [1610-1611] (Annals) classical legend or myth · Queen Anne's Men T12 Olympian gods: Jupiter, Juno, Venus and typicality 0.79 · 507 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T12: iupiter, saturn, iuno, venus, gods, mars, earth, titan, love, fair.
Vulcan be advised, I have had notice where they use to meet, Couldst not devise to catch them by some wile? And lay their guilt, wide open to the Gods, Then mightst thou have fit colour of complaint. Enough, I have devised a secret snare, A draw-net, which I'll place upon the Couch Where they still use to bed, a wire so tempered, And of such fineness to deceive the eye. So catch them when they are at it, and by this I may presume, and be sure I am Cuckold. That's the way to be satisfied. If I can catch them, all the Gods I'll call To see my wrongs, there sports I'll near to mar, And venge me on that lecherous God of war. Cloris, you are the Nymph whose office is To strew fair Venus' bed with herbs and flowers, Here is the place she means to sport herself. I am the handmaid to the Queen of love, And unto all her pleasures minister, When she drinks Nectar, 'tis from Cloris hand, If feed on sweet Ambrotia, or those fruits That Cornucopia yields, I serve them up, Come let us with fresh Roses strew her Couch With pansies and the buds of Eglantine, Her pillow is the purple Violet bank, About whose verges the blanched Lilies grow, Whose bodies twined about with woodbine leaves Make a confused sweetness, so 'tis well, Come Venus when she please to take her rest, Her Arbour's dight, and all things well addressed. By her bawd Charis, this I know the place, Which with adulterate pastimes they pollute. Here will I set my pitfall for these birds, And catch them in the closure of this wire, So, so, als fit, my snare in order placed, Happy the time, that I this Charis traced. Once more in spite of Phoebus and these eyes, That dog our pastimes, we are closely met, And whilst the Cuckold Vulcan blows the fire, Our amorous souls their sportive bliss conspire. he's limping thus, and like a cripple halts From Forge to Furnace; where were Venus' eyes, When she made choice of that foul polt-foot Smith, He smells all smoke, and with his nasty sweat Tawnies my skin, out on him ugly knave, Mars is my love, and he my sweets shall have. Gramercy my kind wife. Come God of war, I'll teach thee a new skirmish, better far Than thy stern battles, meet me with a kiss Which I retort thus, there's spirit in this, What's he would play the coward and turn face, When such sweet amorous combats are in place? My hot encounters, leave me wound nor scar Yet naked I dare meet the God of War. Out of her Whore. I am armed for thee, prepare thee, for this night I'll breast to breast dare thee to single fight. Come tumble in my lap, great Mars I dare To do his worst. 'Tis well, your sports are fair. Betrayed? bound? catched? release me, or by Ioue, Thou diest whate'er thou art.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Vulcan be aduis'd, I haue had notice where they vse to meete, Couldst not deuise to catch them by some wile? And lay their guilt, wide open to the Gods, Then mightst thou haue fit colour of complaint. Enough, I haue deuis'd a secret snare, A draw-net, which I'le place vpon the Couch Where they still vse to bed, a wire so temper'd, And of such finenesse to deceiue the eie. So catch them when they are at it, and by this I may presume, and be sure I am Cuckold. That's the way to be satisfied. If I can catch them, all the Gods I'le call To see my wrongs, there sports I'le neere to marre, And venge me on that letcherous God of warre. Cloris, you are the Nymph whose office is To strow faire Venus bed with hearbes and flowers, Here is the place shee meanes to sport her selfe. I am the hand-maide to the Queene of loue, And vnto all her pleasures minister, When she drinkes Nectar, 'tis from Cloris hand, If feede on sweete Ambrotia, or those fruits That Cornu-copia yeelds, I serue them vp, Come let vs with fresh Roses strow her Couch With pances and the buds of Eglantine, Her pillow is the purple Violet banke, About whose verges the blancht Lillies grow, Whose bodies twin'd about with wood-byne leaues Make a confused sweetnesse, so 'tis well, Come Venus when shee please to take her rest, Her Arbour's dight, and all things well addrest. By her baud Charis, this I know the place, Which with adulterate pastimes they pollute. Here will I set my pit-fall for these birds, And catch them in the closure of this wire, So, so, al's fit, my snare in order plac't, Happy the time, that I this Charis trac't. Once more in spight of Phoebus and these eies, That dog our pastimes, we are closely met, And whilst the Cuckold Vulcan blowes the fire, Our amorous soules their sportiue blisse conspire. Hee's limping thus, and like a cripple halts From Forge to Fornace; where were Venus eies, When she made choise of that foule polt-foote Smith, He smels all smoake, and with his nasty sweate Tawnies my skinne, out on him vgly knaue, Mars is my loue, and he my sweets shall haue. Gramercy my kind wife. Come God of warre, I'le teach thee a new skirmish, better farre Then thy sterne battails, meete me with a kisse Which I retort thus, there's spirit in this, What's he would play the coward and turne face, When such sweete amorous combats are in place? My hot incounters, leaue me wound nor skarr Yet naked I dare meete the God of Warre. Out of her Whoore. I am arm'd for thee, prepare thee, for this night Il'e breast to breast dare thee to single fight. Come tumble in my lap, great Mars I dare To do his worst. 'Tis well, your sports are faire. Betraid? bound? catcht? release me, or by Ioue, Thou dy'st what ere thou art.