If you had rather have whirling Trochees, lo, here they are for you: 
Here is but mean Provision, but I have a liberal Mind.

Although Iambics in old Time were made for Contentions and Quarrels, they were afterwards made to serve any Subject whatsoever.  O Melons!  Here you have Melons that grew in my own Garden.  These are creeping Lettuces of a very milky Juice, like their Name.  What Man in his Wits would not prefer these Delicacies before Brawn, Lampreys, and Moor-Hens?

Cr. If a Man may be allow’d to speak Truth at a Poetic Banquet, those you call Lettuces are Beets.

Hi. God forbid.

Cr. It is as I tell you.  See the Shape of ’em, and besides where is the milky Juice?  Where are their soft Prickles?

Hi. Truly you make me doubt.  Soho, call the Wench. Margaret, you Hag, what did you mean to give us Beets instead of Lettuces?

Ma. I did it on Purpose.

Hi. What do you say, you Witch?

Ma. I had a Mind to try among so many Poets if any could know a Lettuce from a Beet.  For I know you don’t tell me truly who ’twas that discover’d ’em to be Beets.

Guests. Crato.

Ma. I thought it was no Poet who did it.

Hi. If ever you serve me so again, I’ll call you Blitea instead of Margarita.

Gu. Ha, ha, ha.

Ma. Your calling me will neither make me fatter nor leaner.  He calls me by twenty Names in a Day’s Time:  When he has a Mind to wheedle me, then I’m call’d Galatea, Euterpe, Calliope, Callirhoe, Melissa, Venus, Minerva, and what not?  When he’s out of Humour at any Thing, then presently I’m Tisiphone, Megaera, Alecto, Medusa, Baucis, and whatsoever comes into his Head in his mad Mood.

Hi. Get you gone with your Beets, Blitea.

Ma. I wonder what you call’d me for.

Hi. That you may go whence you came.

Ma. ’Tis an old Saying and a true, ’tis an easier Matter to raise the Devil, than ’tis to lay him.

Gu. Ha, ha, ha:  Very well said.  As the Matter is, Hilary, you stand in Need of some magic Verse to lay her with.

Hi. I have got one ready.

[Greek:  Pheugete, kantharides lukos agrios umme diokei.]

Be gone ye Beetles, for the cruel Wolf pursues you.

Ma. What says AEsop?

Cr. Have a Care, Hilary, she’ll hit you a Slap on the Face:  This is your laying her with your Greek Verse.  A notable Conjurer indeed!

Hi. Crato, What do you think of this Jade?  I could have laid ten great Devils with such a Verse as this.

Ma. I don’t care a Straw for your Greek Verses.

Hi. Well then, I must make use of a magical Spell, or, if that won’t do, Mercury’s Mace.