A Burlesque Translation of Homer
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THE THIRD BOOK OF HOMER'S ILIAD
ARGUMENT
Now all the troops in order plac'd,Against their minds, each other fac'd;When nimble Paris, by a fitOf courage, or of phrensy, bit,Fierce sallies forth upon the plain;The cuckold drives him back again:Yet hearten'd afterwards by Hector,Who read him a confounded lecture,This dancing, cuckold-making knightChalleng'd the cuckold out to fight;Which Menelaus answer'd soon,And in the scuffle knock'd him down.Fast by the crown the Spartan held him,And swore most bloodily he'd geld him:But Venus, queen of love and beauty,Who thinks all whoring tricks a duty,In a great hurry came and caught himFast by the luggs, and fairly brought himTo his own room; then from the closetShe fetch'd a smoking-hot sack posset.Soon as she found it warm'd his belly,She stepp'd to th' door, and call'd up Nelly;Who scolded hard at first, but soonPull'd off her clothes, and laid her downUpon the bed beside her swain,Who trimm'd her buff with might and main.How oft, at exercise so vi'lent,They cry'd Encore, our author's silent.HOMER'S ILIAD
BOOK IIIThus muster'd by their leaders' care,Both sides for fisty-cuffs prepare.The Trojans toss their caps and shout,And noise proclaims 'em bloody stout;Like cranes that fly in winter time(As poets tell us) to a climeWhere pigmies dwell, with whom they fightTo th' ears in blood from morn to night.But the bold Grecians on their toesSteal softly to surprise their foes,Taking huge steps along the greenTo get a blow before they're seen,Knowing, a sorry rogue may crackA brave man's crown behind his back.With nimble feet, in sweat well soak'd,They trudge it, though with dust half chok'd.Thus, when a mist on mountain headAs thick as mustard round is spread,The puzzled shepherd cannot keepThe goats from mingling with the sheep:So of the Greeks, not one, I trow,Ask him but hastily, could knowWhether his nose was on or no.Now front to front they ready standTo fight, and only wait command;When nimble Paris to the van,Dress'd à la mode de François, ran:With coney-skins he edg'd his coat,To show he was a man of note:A cross-bow o'er his back was slung;And on his thigh his poniard hung.A staff he pois'd would fell an ox,And dar'd the boldest Greek to box.As thus he struts, and makes a splutter,Like crow i' th' middle of a gutter,Him Menelaus soon espies,And joyful to himself he cries:Blast my old shoes, but very soonI'll have a knock at your rogue's crown!Then darted, in a bloody rage,From his old duns cart to engage:And as he hied along to meet him,He look'd as if he meant to eat him.So joys the bailiff, when he spiesA half-pay officer his prize:Headlong he drives across the way,Regardless both of cart and dray,Nor stops till he has seiz'd his prey.Soon as the youth the cuckold saw,As guilt will ever feel an awe,In spite of all that he could say,He found his legs would run away:Then, since the matter turn'd out so,'Twas best, he thought, to let 'em go;So turn'd about, and in a crackThey brought their master safely back;And, as he puff'd along, we find himNot daring once to look behind him.As when a bumpkin sees a snakeCome slyly stealing from the brake,He starts, and looks confounded cunning,But quickly saves himself by running:So this young beau the cuckold shuns,And 'mongst his trusty Trojans runs.This the bold Hector could not bear;He thought he ran away for fear —Without considering, now and thenThe very best and boldest menCannot their members so commandTo make 'em at all seasons stand.Be that as't may; with accent graveHe thus began to scold the knave:Paris, says he, you're but a cheat,And only dare the wenches meet;But though a man you dare not face,Yet, when the fight becomes a chase,You'd beat a thousand in the race.I wish, ere Nelly thou hadst felt,Thou'dst broke thy neck, or hadst been gelt:Better by half than thus to bully,Then run away from such a cully.The Greeks all swear thou art besh-t,And their fat sides with laughing split.Thou look a soldier! thou be d – d!The Grecians cannot be so flamm'd.When thy fine long-boats went to GreeceTo steal away this precious piece;Say, did'st thou, in thy first attackOn Helen's freehold, thus give back?Joy to thy foes, shame to thy race,Thy father's grief, and Troy's disgrace,Recover thy lost credit soon,And stoutly stand by what you've done;Or else all Troy, as well as me,Thy buxom wench will plainly seeBelongs a better man than thee.Take heed, Troy may awake at last,And make thee pay for all that's past.Here Paris blush'd – a sign of grace;Nor durst he look in Hector's face:Then answers, By my soul, you're rightBut who like you can preach and fight?I know you're made of best of steel,And box as if you could not feel.You have your gifts, and I have mine:Where each may in his province shine.Smite you the men; I smite the wenches,And seldom fail to storm their trenches.Don't you despise the lover's charms:They're Venus' gift, her powerful arms.A good strong back, and proper measureOf love, to give the fair ones pleasure,Are blessings, which the gods bestowOnly to favourites below.Yet, if it please thee, I will standThis cuckold's combat hand to hand:His mutton-fist bold Paris scorns,He only fears his branching horns;Should he receive from these a wound,Our quack can never make him sound.But go, explain the matter fully,And I will box this Spartan bully.My pretty Nelly shall be setFor him that doth the conquest get:Her swelling breasts and matchless eyesShall be the lucky conqu'ror's prize:Then Troy and Greece, in any weather,May smoke a sober pipe together.This challenge pleas'd, and Hector quickStopp'd all the Trojans with his stick;Next to the foe, with Spanish pace,Advanc'd, to let them know the case.The Greeks, like coward sons of whores,Threw bricks and cobble-stones in show'rs.Atrides soon the tumult spies:Give o'er, ye silly dogs! he cries;'Tis Hector comes, if I am right,To talk a little, not to fight:I know him by his breadth of chest,I know his skull-cap's always drestWith goose quills of the very best:Then be not in such woeful splutter,But hear what Hector has to utter.At this rebuke they threw no more:The tumult ceas'd; the fray was o'er:His eyes the bully Trojan roll'd,And briefly thus his story told:Hear, all ye warriors, fam'd for toils,In civil feuds and drunken broils:Paris demands you now forbearTo kick and cuff, and curse and swear;But on the ground your cudgels throw,And stick your broomstaves on a row:Let Troy and Greece but sit 'em down,Paris will fight this Spartan loon;The charming Helen shall be set,For him that shall the conquest get;Her snowy breasts and matchless eyesShall be the lucky conqu'ror's prize:Then Troy and Greece, in any weather,May smoke a sober pipe together.He spoke; and for six minutes good,With mouths half-cock'd, both armies stood:When Menelaus thus began:Bold Hector offers like a man,And I the challenge will accept;As freely as I ever slept.Hector, perhaps, may think I won't,But singe my whiskers if I don't!I know, my lads, you fight for me,And in my quarrel cross'd the sea.I thank you, friends, for what you've done;But now the battle's all my own:Who falls, it matters not a fig,If one survives to dance a jigWith that bewitching female Helen,And stump it tightly when he's well in.So, Trojans, if you mean no flams,Go buy directly two grass-lambs;One for the Earth, as black as crow,One for the Sun, as white as snow:For surly Jove, you need not fear,We'll get one, be they cheap or dear;For well we know he'll make us feel,If e'er we cheat him of a meal.But let King Priam on the placeAppear; we rev'rence his old face.His sons are hect'ring roaring fellows,And fifty thousand lies may tell us;Old age is not so quick in motion,But sees with care, and moves with caution.Experience makes old folks discerning;At blunders past they oft take warning.Both parties hear, and hope, at lastTheir broils and broken pates are past;Nor staid they to be bidden twice,But stripp'd their jackets in a trice:Their cudgels, all the circle roundAs quick as thought threw on the ground.Two beadles Hector sent to town,In haste to fetch his daddy down;And bid 'em tell old limberhams,Not to forget to bring two lambs.The running footman of the fleet(Talthybius call'd, with nimble feet)With all his speed his stumps did stirTo fetch a lamb for Jupiter.I' th' int'rim, fond of mischief-telling,The rainbow goddess flies to Helen:(Most modern farts, I ever knew,When set on fire, burn only blue,Or simple red; but when behindThis nimble goddess lets out wind,It leaves a track along the skiesCompos'd of fifty different dyes.)She seem'd like old Antenor's daughter,That Helen might not know she sought her.The housewife at her task she found,With all her wenches seated round:For, as she work'd in Priam's hall,She chose to have them within call:Where, like a brazen, saucy jade,She wrought her tale in light and shade:How, for her sake, the Greeks employTheir utmost force to pull down Troy;And wove the story in her loom,Of horns, her former husband's doom:Adding withal, to keep her going,What for nine years they had been doing:The necessary names wrote under,Lest lookers-on should make a blunder;Lest they should make a wrong conjecture:This is brisk Paris – that is Hector;This is Ulysses – that the beastThersites – so of all the rest.Helen, says Iris, pray come outAnd see what work they're all about.Their clubs thrown down; their staves they prickFast in the ground, and there they stick.They fight no more; for this good dayParis and Menelaus sayThey'll have one bout at cudgel play.These happy rogues appear in viewTo box their very best for you;And which soever of 'em win,With kissing he will soon begin.This put the light-heel'd dame in mindOf people she had left behindIn her own country: not these two(She'd try'd the best that they could do);But she had left behind some dozensOf uncles, aunts, and loving cousins.She gulp'd, and swallow'd down her spittle,But yet was seen to weep a little;Then left her work, and on her waitTwo wenches to the Scean gate,Where some old square-toes, grave and try'd,Were chatting close to Priam's side:I think they were in number seven;It matters not, or odd or even.The name of each I would rehearse,But it would edge your teeth in verse.Like grasshoppers they sat i' th' sun,Telling strange tales of ancient fun;And, in a feeble hollow tone,Repeated what great feats they'd done;How they had thrum'd the maids of Troy,When Adam was a little boy:At Helen's shapes they shook their wings;What could they more? they had no stings.No wonder, 'faith, they cry, that GreeceShould fight for such a tempting piece;The man that Helen's ringlets touzes,Can never grudge a thousand bruises;But since 'tis o'er with us long since,'Tis best to send the brimstone hence:If she stays here, Troy tumbles down;But pack her off, we save the town.Whilst thus the gipsy's praise they squeak,The Trojan king began to speak:Come hither, girl, I take a prideTo have thee chatter by my side.Behold your friends, my dearest honey,And take a view of your old crony.'Tis not your fault: you're not the causeOf half our bruises, kicks, and blows.The gods, they say, are in a pet;And when they're once on mischief setThe devil cannot keep 'em down,Till they've demolish'd some old town;And for nine years, I plainly see,They have been grumbling hard at me.But tell us, who's that swinging fellowThat struts so fierce? he's drest in yellow,And cocks his hat with such a pinch,He looks a soldier ev'ry inch.Helen replies, Although, good Priam,No woman's better kiss'd than I am,Yet I could wish I had been hang'd,Or at a whipping-post well bang'd,Ere I away with Paris ran,And cuckolded an honest man:My little girl most bitterly,They tell me, for her mam doth cry:I'm full of grief, if that would do;But matters can't be mended now.The gipsy, after this parade,Thus to the good old Trojan said:He whom to know my daddy seeks,Is the great leader of the Greeks:His fame is known both near and far,To scold in peace, and kick in war:My brother he was call'd, beforeYour son and I turn'd rogue and whore:To call him so I'm now asham'd,And even blush to hear him nam'd.Is that Atrides, quoth the king?To me he seems the very thing:I'm told he is, or grave or mellow,In peace or war, a clever fellow.Amongst the Phrygians I have been.But ne'er a tighter fellow seen.When Otreus sat upon their throne,And Migdon led their hang-dogs on,I and my Trojans join'd the roysters;Where, by the help of cod and oysters,We laid, with many strokes and thwacks,The Amazons upon their backs:Yet those now standing in our sightAre tighter fellows, by this light.But tell me, Helen, if you can,Who's that broad-breasted little man;His shoulders large and widely spread,But not so tall as th' last by th' head?He is no serjeant, I've a notion;Yet like a serjeant in his motion:He seems to bustle much about him;You'd swear they could not do without him.Helen replies, My judgment misses,If he you speak of ben't Ulysses.Now that I take a better view,'Tis he himself, I spy him now:Let him be standing still, or running,You'll hardly find his match for cunning;He knows a thousand slipp'ry tricks,But shines the most in politics.Though from a barren isle he came,The world's too little for his fame:And, had he not been born a prince,He'd been prime minister long since.Antenor told the king, he knewWhat Helen said was very true.When Atreus' son and he came over,This coaxing baggage to recover,Men of great worth they seem'd to be,I therefore let 'em lodge with me:I knew them both before that day,And knew they could their reck'ning pay.Whene'er we chatted o'er a canOf flip, with care I mark'd each man.Atrides standing, look'd the best,'Cause he was mostly better drest:Seated, Ulysses reverence drew;On breech he gave the clearest view.Atrides was no man of tongue;His speech was good, though never long:But when Ulysses 'gan to speak,You never heard so queer a Greek;He'd fix his eyes upon the ground,As if a speech could there be found;Look'd foolish, though he knew no tongueLike his was half so glibly hung:He could, with oily words, I tell ye,Make your heart jump within your belly:His rogueship from the flowers and treesWould call the very birds and bees.Then Priam thus: Amidst the throngI spy a man exceeding strong;Shoulders so spread, and such a chest,He's stole a giant's back and breast:So strong a carl you'll seldom see;My lovely girl, who can it be?Ajax, replies fair Leda's daughter,Is he you're now inquiring after:Of him the Grecians well may crack,For he upon his brawny backCould lug the city gates, when bid,As well as ever Samson did.The next that looks this way to see us,Is the far-fam'd Idomeneus:With my good man he once took quarter,And look'd so trim, my mouth did water.As for the rest, if I judge rightly,They're fellows that can box it tightly.But all this while, old dad, have IBeen looking sharp, if I can spyA pair of twins, and each my brotherCastor is one, and Pollux t'other.But hap the colonels fight no more,Or scorn to quarrel for a whore.Poor Helen dreamt not on her bed,Her brothers were as herrings dead;That the last doublet they put onWas made of Bath or Portland stone,Where, free from broils, they slept secure,And dreamt of whores and rogues no more.And now both beadles did with careThe lambs for sacrifice prepare;But first in order form the ring,And thus they call the Trojan king:Arise, O king! come down with speed.And lend a hand in time of needTo seal the truce; for there's no troth,Unless you come and take the oath.Your son and famous MenelauFor Nell agree to pull a crow:And he that makes his rival yield,Or lays him flat upon the field,May unmolested take his fill,And tousel Helen when he will;That we may cease this curs'd fatigue,And join in everlasting league;Trojans may plough their lands, and GreeceReturn, and kiss their wives in peace.Priam, though with a heavy heart,Gave orders for his apple-cart,A vehicle contriv'd with careTo serve for cart or one-horse chair;Then, with Antenor by his side,Like two grave cits they took a rideQuite through the Scean gate, amongThe Trojan and the Grecian throng:When Agamemnon 'midst the crew,And eke the sly Ulysses too,Both rose, and made a handsome bow.And now the blue-coat beadles, grac'dWith large red caps all silver-lac'd,The method of the farce to fix,Some Greek and Trojan beverage mix;Then pour a little on the handOf each commander, as they stand;But have our priestly way of thinking,To save the most for private drinking:Lastly, – this grand affair to close,His knife the Grecian gen'ral draws,And cutting from the beasts some hair,The beadles gave each chief a share,To show that all things should be fair.Then with a thund'ring voice, that madeA dev'lish noise, to Jove they pray'd:O Jupiter! who every FridayArt worshipp'd on a mount call'd Ida:O Phœbus! and thou mother Earth!That gives to thieves and lawyers birth:O demons! and infernal furies!Whose counsels aid Westminster juries:Thou discord-making fiend I that trudgesThe six months' circuits with the judges;And thou, the hellish imp, that bringsBrimstone to singe all wicked kings!Hear what we promise, and depend on't,We'll keep our words, or mark the end on't.Should Paris drub this Menelaus;To pox and poverty betray us,If we don't leave the brimstone HelenSafe in her present Trojan dwellingFor Paris' use! Much good may't do him,And make her true and faithful to him;Whilst we poor devils will depart,And trudge it home with all our heart.But if by Menelaus' blowsParis should get a bloody nose,They shall again restore his Nelly,With what belongs her back and belly;A forfeit too consent to payFor stealing of the girl away;And Paris cannot think it muchTo pay a piece for every touch:If they refuse, again we'll fight,And force the rogues to do us right.With that he seiz'd the sheep by th' crown.And cut their throats or knock'd them downBy death they soon were overtaken,Though they kick'd hard to save their bacon.The chiefs then tipp'd, the other round,And pour'd a little on the ground;Adding withal a shorter prayer,Because they'd not much time to spare:Hear, Jove, and all ye gods on high!Whose vicars say you hate a lie(Though amongst them, for lies and swearing,There's scarce a barrel better herring),Whoever takes a thing in hand,And will not to their bargain stand,May their heart's blood run out much quickerThan from the jug we pour this liquor;And may their wives such harlots be,That a whole parish can't serve three!Thus both the armies clubb'd a prayer,Which Jove refus'd, and kick'd in air.Now, when these popish rites were done,Old square-toes hasten'd to be gone:It will be rather hard, quoth he,For one so very old as me,Bruises and broken pates to see:But Jove knows best, who rules us all,Which knave shall stand, or which shall fall.To stay within yond' walls I choose,And be the last to hear bad news:Then instantly his chair ascended;Antenor by his side attended:But first, and rightly did he judge it,He stuff'd both lambs within his budget.Ulysses then, and Hector stout,The limits of the fight mark'd out:They both agreed that chance might tryWho first should let his broomstick fly.The people pray on bended knees,And mutter out such words as these:O Jupiter! who hast by oddsThe greatest head of all the gods,Let him that did this mischief brewReturn with ribs all black and blue;Or let him be demolish'd quick,And sent full gallop to Old Nick!Such rogues once hang'd, all wars would cease,And soldiers eat their bread in peace.Hector, who was a wary chapAt pitch and chuck, or hustle-cap,An old Scotch bonnet quickly takes,In which he three brass farthings shakes:Then turn'd his head without deceit,To show them th he scorn'd to cheat;And cries aloud, Here goes, my boy,'Tis heads for Greece, and tails for Troy;Then turns the cap: Great Troy prevails,Two farthings out of three were tails,Paris now arms himself in haste,And ty'd his jacket round his waistWith a buff belt, and then with 'trapsAbout his legs some hay-bands wraps;To guard his heart he closely press'dA sheet of tin athwart his breast;His trusty sword across his breechWas hung, to be within his reach;A horse's tail, just like a mop,He stuck upon his scull-cap's top.Thus arm'd complete, with care and skill,He seem'd as stout as Bobadil:And Menelaus, you might see,Appear'd as stout and fierce as he.Ready for fight, they both look'd sour,And eyed each other o'er and o'er.Paris puts on a warlike phiz,And from his hand his staff goes whiz,Which lent the Grecian targe a thump,And then upon the ground fell plump.His broomstaff then, with aim as true,The cuckold at the Trojan threw;But ere he spent his ammunition,He sent to Jove a small petition:Mayst please my good design to help,And let me souse this lech'rous whelp;That men may cease to do amiss,And not in others' fish-ponds fish!Thus, like Old Noll, he coin'd a pray'r,Then sent his broomstick through the airWith such a vengeance did it fall,Through the tin-plates it bor'd a hole,And tore his doublet and his shirt;But to his guts did little hurt;Because the knave, by bending low,Escap'd the fury of the blow.Some think he daub'd his breeks that hit,But that remains a query yet.The Greek, who did not often judge ill,Pursu'd th' advantage with his cudgel,And laid about at such a rate,As if he meant to break his pate;But, as his jobber-noul he rapp'd,His stick in twenty pieces snapp'd.Vex'd to the guts, he lifts his eyes,And mutt'ring to himself, he cries:This rascal's jacket I had dusted,If Jupiter could have been trusted;But honest men he keeps at distance,And lends to whores and rogues assistance.Just when I had secur'd my prize,My lousy stick in pieces flies.This said, he gave a hasty snapAt the horse-tail upon his cap,And lugg'd most stoutly at his crown,In hopes to pull the varlet down:The more he lugg'd to end the farce,The more the Trojan hung an arse:Still he haul'd on with many a bob,And certainly had done his job,Because so firmly was his capTy'd with a tinsel'd leather strap,That though the knave began to cough,The de'il a bit would it come off:But watchful Venus came in season,Before the Greek had stopp'd his weasand;Her scissars from her side she whipp'd,And in a twink the stay-band snipp'd.The Greek, who thought he well had sped,And pull'd off both his cap and head,Was vex'd to find, instead of full cap,He'd only got an empty skull-cap:In grievous wrath, away he threw it.Amongst his men, who flock'd to view it,Admir'd the glitt'ring band, and sworeThey'd never seen the like before.He then, with all his might and main,Let drive at Paris once again;With a fresh broomstick thought to smoke him,But Venus whipp'd him up, and took himIn her smock lap, and very soonNear his own dwelling set him down;From thence, with gentle touch, she ledThe younker home, and warm'd his bed.To take away perfumes not good,She burnt perfumes of spicy wood.No sooner was he seated well inHis garret, but she look'd for Helen:Amongst her chamber-maids she found her;The wenches all were standing round her.Quickly she chang'd her form, and whipp'd onThe nose and chin of Mother Shipton;Then on her tip-toes coming near,She whispers softly in her ear:My dearest jewel, Paris wantsTo ramble in the usual haunts;Upon a good flock-bed he lies,And longs to view your wicked eyes:The whoring rascal, safe and sound,Prepares to fire a double round.Helen began to make a dinAt this old woman's nose and chin,But as she star'd her through and through,Her old acquaintance soon she knewBy her fine alabaster bubbies,Her eyes of jet, and lips of rubies.The fright made all her teeth to chatter,And, 'faith, she scarce could hold her water:But soon a little courage took,And to the goddess silence broke(The reader in her speech will find,That, woman like, she spoke her mind):Could I believe that Venus wouldFor such a rascal turn a bawd?Don't think that Helen e'er will truckle,And with a beaten scoundrel buckle.If to your calling you bewitch her,For God's sake let a brave man switch her,Nor think that I can like a scrubThat any lousy rogue can drub.Now he is worsted in the fight,I am become another's right:I know your drift; it sha'n't take place;To send me homeward with disgrace,And make my husband quite uncivil:You a fine goddess! you a devil!If Paris cannot live withoutA tit bit, you yourself may do't;Be you his loving wench or wife,I'll go no more, upon my life:To me it will afford no sport,I am not in a humour for't;You're always ready for a bout,When I'd as lief be hang'd as do't:But know, that I'll no longer bearOf every saucy jade the sneer,Who cry, She's very handsome, sure,But yet the brim's an errant whore.Hey-day! quoth Venus, what's all this?On nettles sure you've been to piss:Yon will not that, or t'other do:Pray, who will first have cause to rue?If I forsake thee, every graceWill leave that pretty smirking face;Trojans won't give a fig to seeWhat once they view'd with so much glee;Nor will the wildest rake in townValue thy ware at half a crown,This eas'd poor Helen of her doubts,And put an end to all disputes;Rather than risk the loss of beauty,She'd be content with double duty;On which the gipsies tripp'd away,And soon arriv'd where Paris lay.The maids about like lightning flew,For they had fifty things to do:But Nell and Venus mount up stairs;They were to mind their own affairs.Soon as they reach'd the garret-door,The goddess tripp'd it in before;And, squatting down just by the fire,Made Helen on a stool sit by her:All o'er she look'd so very charming,That Paris found his liver warming;He seiz'd her, and began to playThe prelude to et cætera;Hoping a tune o' th' silent fluteWould keep the scolding baggage mute:Instead of which the vixen fellUpon the harmless rogue pell mell.After you've suffer'd such disgrace,How dare you look in Helen's face?What wench, now thou hast lost thine honour,Will let thee lay a leg upon her?Perhaps you think I'll suffer youTo toy, but split me if I do;Not I, by Jove. Are all thy brags,Of beating Menelaus to rags,Come off with this? Once more go tryThy strength – But what a fool am I!A stripling thou, a giant he;At single gulp he'd swallow thee.Then venture into scrapes no more;But, since thou'rt safe, e'en shut the door.Paris replies, Good dame, ha' done;We can't recall the setting sun:Though your old cuckold-pated whelp,By that damn'd brim Minerva's help,Did win this match, the next that's try'dI'll lay the odds I trim his hide.But haste, my girl, let's buckle to't,And mind the business we're about:I ne'er before had such desire;My heart and pluck are both on fire:Just now I've far more appetite,Than when with you, that merry night,In Cranse's isle, to work we buckled,And dubb'd your bluff-fac'd husband cuckold.This speech no sooner had he made,But up he jump'd upon the bed;Where Nelly soon resign'd her charms.And sunk into the varlet's arms:Around her waist he never caught her,But it in special temper brought her.Whilst thus they up and down engage,The Greek was in a bloody rage;He like a pointer rang'd about,To try to find the younker out,And peep'd in ev'ry hole and corner,In hopes to spy this Mr. Horner;(Nor would the Trojans, not to wrong 'em,Have screen'd him, had he been among 'em)But the bawd Venus took good careHe should not find him far or near.Then Agamemnon from his breechLifted himself, and made this speech:Ye Dardans and ye Trojans trusty,Whose swords we keep from being rusty,You plainly see the higher powersDetermine that the day is ours;For Menelaus sure has beat him,And may, for aught we know, have eat him,As not a man upon the spot,Can tell us where the rogue is got:If therefore Helen you'll restore,We'll take her, be she wife or whore,With all her clothes and other gear,Adding a sum for wear and tear:The wear, a female broker maySettle in less than half a day;But for the tear, no mortal elfCan judge so well as Mene's self.If Troy will pay a fine so just,And that they will, I firmly trust,We'll leave this curs'd unlucky shore,And swear to trouble you no more.With mighty shouts the Grecians eachVow 'tis a very noble speech;That every single word was right;And swore the Trojans should stand by't.