What monstrous ugly hag is this, That dares control the pleasures of our will?
Vaunt, churlish cur, besmeared with gory blood, That seemst to check the blossoms of delight, And stifle the sound of sweet Bellona's breath:
Blush, monster, blush, and post away with shame, That seekst disturbance of a goddess' deeds.
ENVY.
Post hence thy self, thou counter-checking trull;I will possess this habit, spite of thee, And gain the glory of thy wished port:
I'll thunder music shall appall the nymphs, And make them shiver their clattering strings:
Flying for succour to their dankish caves.
[Sound drums within and cry, 'stab! stab!']
Hearken, thou shalt hear a noise Shall fill the air with a shrilling sound, And thunder music to the gods above:
Mars shall himself breathe down A peerless crown upon brave envy's head, And raise his chivall with a lasting fame.
In this brave music Envy takes delight, Where I may see them wallow in their blood, To spurn at arms and legs quite shivered off, And hear the cries of many thousand slain.
How likst thou this, my trull? this sport alone for me!
COMEDY.
Vaunt, bloody cur, nurst up with tiger's sap, That so dost seek to quail a woman's mind.
