LITMIR.BIZ

      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 play

      The prelude to et cætera;

      Hoping a tune o' th' silent flute

      Would keep the scolding baggage mute:

      Instead of which the vixen fell

      Upon 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 you

      To 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 try

      Thy 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'd

      I'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 care

      He should not find him far or near.

      Then Agamemnon from his breech

      Lifted himself, and made this speech:

      Ye Dardans and ye Trojans trusty,

      Whose swords we keep from being rusty,

      You plainly see the higher powers

      Determine 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 may

      Settle in less than half a day;

      But for the tear, no mortal elf

      Can 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 each

      Vow 'tis a very noble speech;

      That every single word was right;

      And swore the Trojans should stand by't.