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22 should publish her ugliness, she set the dogs at him. And I might add that her occupation as a midwife is not over-maidenly.

La. You are mighty proud, Juno, because you are the consort of Jove, and so think you can insult us all as much as you please. But it will not be very long before I shall see you in your usual hysterics, when his majesty goes down to earth in disguise upon one of his intriguing rambles.

Venus. How in the world is it, Cupid, that you, who have mastered all the other gods, Jupiter and Neptune and Apollo and Rhea—and even me, your mother—yet you never try your hand upon Minerva? In her ease, your torch seems to lose its fire, your quiver has no arrows, and your skill and cunning is all at fault.

Cupid. I am afraid of her, mother; she has such a terrible look, and such stern eyes, and is so horribly man-like. Whenever I bend my bow and take aim at her, she shakes her crest at me and frightens me so that I absolutely shake, and the arrow drops out of my hands.

Ven. But was not Mars even more terrible? Yet you disarmed and conquered him.

Cup. Oh, he gives in to me of his own accord, and invites me to attack him. But Minerva always eyes me suspiciously, and whenever I fly near her with my torch, "If you dare to touch me," she says, "I swear by my father, I'll run my spear through you, or take