FullReads

Observe these Documents, and leave all other Niceties to the Women, and to Men who desire to supply their Places.

But now Bacchus summons his Poet. He likewise assists Lovers, and favours the Flame which warms himself.

The Cretan Lady having jumped out of Bed in a raving Fit, wandered on the foreign Shore of Dia. She had nothing on but a loose wrapping Gown, without Stockings or Cap: and her Hair hung dishevelled over her Shoulders. She complained of the Cruelty of Theseus to the deep Waves, whilst an unworthy Shower of Tears ran down her Cheeks. She wept, and lamented aloud, and both became her; nor did her Tears diminish her Beauty. Once, and again, she beat her delicious Breasts with her Hands, and cried aloud, The perfidious Man hath abandoned me; What will become of poor Ariadne ? What will become of poor Ariadne ? On a sudden a vast Multitude was heard, while many Kinds of strange Instruments, like those of the miserable Masons, accompanied the Voices. The poor Lady sunk with Fear; and suppressed her last Words; nor did the least Blood remain in her Countenance. And now behold the Bacchanalian Women, with their Hair about their Ears, and the light Satyrs, who are always Forerunners of the God. Behold old Master Silenus [47] as drunk as a Piper, riding on an Ass, which he is hardly able either to sit or guide. The old Gentleman, endeavouring to follow the Bacchanalians, who fly from him and towards him, sets Spurs to his Ass, which being a vicious Beast, kicked up, and threw him over his Ears: upon which all the Satyrs set up a loud Shout, crying out, Rise, Father, rise and be d—-nd to you. And now the God himself, high mounted on his Four-Wheel Chaise, the Top of which was adorned with Grapes, and which he drove himself, flung his Golden Reins over the Backs of his Pair of Tygers. Poor Ariadne’s Colour forsook her Cheeks, and Theseus and her Voice at once deserted her Lips. Thrice she attempted to fly, and thrice being retained, she grew stiff with Fear, and stood trembling as Corn waves in the Field, or Reeds on the River Bank, when fanned by the Wind. To whom the God; Behold, Madam, a more faithful Lover at your Feet: Fear nothing, Lady fair, you shall be the Wife of Bacchus. The Sky shall be your Dowry, where shining in a bright Constellation, by the Name of Ariadne’s Crown, you shall often direct the doubtful Mariner’s Passage. He said; and leaping from his Chariot, lest Ariadne should be afraid of the Tygers, the Sand sunk under the Weight of his Feet; and catching her instantly in his Arms, he carried her, who was incapable of scratching, directly off; (for every Thing, we know, is in the Power of a Deity:) And now, whilst Part of his Train sing the Hymenaeum, and other cry Evie Evoe, two very mysterious Words, and full of Masonry, the God and his new-ravished Bride go together, between a Pair of sacred Sheets.

Whenever therefore you happen to be in Company with a pretty Girl over a Bottle, pray heartily to Bacchus, and invoke his nocturnal Rites, that the Wine may not get into your Head. You may now take an Opportunity to toast some Nymph by a fictitious Name, of whom you may say an hundred amorous Things; all which, with the least Assistance, she will readily apply to herself. Double Entendres likewise may be used. You may moreover draw certain Figures in Wine on the Table; and after having spoken of your Mistress in the third Person, you may take this Method of writing her Name, and convincing her, that she herself is the Goddess.