And then they knew, they would no more disguise Their close conveyance, but lay, forc’d, stone-still. Back rush’d the both-foot-cook’d, but straight in skill, From his near scout-hole turn’d, nor ever went To any Lemnos, but the sure event Left Phœbus to discover, who told all. Then home hopp’d Vulcan, full of grief and gall, Stood in the portal, and cried out so high, That all the Gods heard; “Father of the sky, And ev’ry other deathless God,” said he, “Come all, and a ridiculous object see, And yet not sufferable neither. Come, And witness how, when still I step from home, Lame that I am, Jove’s daughter doth profess To do me all the shameful offices, Indignities, despites, that can be thought; And loves this all-things-making-come-to-nought, Since he is fair forsooth, foot-sound, and I Took in my brain a little, legg’d awry. And no fault mine, but all my parent’s fault, Who should not get, if mock me, with my halt. But see how fast they sleep, while I, in moan, Am only made an idle looker on. One bed their turn serves, and it must be mine; I think yet, I have made their self-loves shine. They shall no more wrong me, and none perceive; Nor will they sleep together, I believe, With too hot haste again. Thus both shall lie In craft, and force, till the extremity Of all the dow’r I gave her sire (to gain A doggéd set-fac’d girl, that will not stain Her face with blushing, though she shame her head) He pays me back. She’s fair, but was no maid.” While this long speech was making, all were come To Vulcan’s wholly-brazen-founded home, Earth-shaking Neptune, useful Mercury, And far-shot Phœbus. No She-Deity, For shame, would show there. All the give-good Gods Stood in the portal, and past periods Gave length to laughters, all rejoic’d to see That which they said, that no impiety Finds good success at th’ end. “And now,” said one, “The slow outgoes the swift. Lame Vulcan, known To be the slowest of the Gods, outgoes Mars the most swift. And this is that which grows To greatest justice: that adult’ry’s sport, Obtain’d by craft, by craft of other sort (And lame craft too) is plagued, which grieves the more, That sound limbs turning lame the lame restore.”[7] This speech amongst themselves they entertain’d, When Phœbus thus ask’d Hermes: “Thus enchain’d Wouldst thou be, Hermes, to be thus disclos’d? Though with thee golden Venus were repos’d?” He soon gave that an answer: “O,” said he, “Thou king of archers, would ’twere thus with me! Though thrice so much shame; nay, though infinite Were pour’d about me, and that ev’ry light, In great heav’n shining, witness’d all my harms, So golden Venus slumber’d in mine arms.” The Gods again laugh’d; even the Watery State Wrung out a laughter, but propitiate Was still for Mars, and pray’d the God of Fire He would dissolve him, off’ring the desire He made to Jove to pay himself, and said, All due debts should be by the Gods repaid. “Pay me, no words,” said he, “where deeds lend pain,