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Transcriber’s Notes:
Credits: This e-text was scanned, proofed and edited with a glossary and translations from the Latin by Donal O’ Danachair. (kodak_seaside@hotmail.com). The text is that of an edition published in London, 1805. This e-text is hereby placed in the public domain.
Spelling and punctuation: These are the same as in the book as far as possible. The AE and OE digraphs have been transcribed as two letters. Greek words have been transliterated.
Notes: The notes are identified by letters in the text, thus: . In a few cases the note has no text reference: these are indicated <>.
Layout: the line numbers all end in col. 65. View this e-text in a monospaced font such as Courier and they will all line up in the right margin.
Latin: All translations are by the transcriber. In the notes, they immediately follow the Latin text in [square brackets]. Translations of Latin phrases in the poem are in the glossary. Disclaimer: these translations are probably very inaccurate — I am no great Latin scholar.
Hudibras
in
three parts
Writtenin
The time of the late wars --------------------- by Samuel Butler, Esq. --------------------- With annotations and an index ------
Poeta nascitur non fit, [poets are born, not made] is a sentence of as great truth as antiquity; it being most certain, that all the acquired learning imaginable is insufficient to compleat a poet, without a natural genius and propensity to so noble and sublime an art. And we may, without offence, observe, that many very learned men, who have been ambitious to be thought poets, have only rendered themselves obnoxious to that satyrical inspiration our Author wittily invokes:
Which made them, though it were in spight
Of nature and their stars, to write.
On the one side some who have had very little human learning, but were endued with a large share of natural wit and parts, have become the most celebrated (Shakespear, D’Avenant, &c.) poets of the age they lived in. But, as these last are, “Rarae aves in terris,” so, when the muses have not disdained the assistances of other arts and sciences, we are then blessed with those lasting monuments of wit and learning, which may justly claim a kind of eternity upon earth. And our author, had his modesty permitted him, might, with Horace, have said,
Exegi monumentum aere perennius:
[I have raised a memorial more lasting than bronze]
Or, with Ovid,
Jamque opus exegi, quod nec Jovis ira, nec ignis,
Nec poterit ferrum, nec edax abolere vetustas.
[For I have raised a work which neither the rage of
Jupiter,
Nor fire, nor iron, nor consuming age can destroy.]
The Author of this celebrated Poem was of this his last composition: for although he had not the happiness of an academical education, as some affirm, if may be perceived, throughout his whole Poem, that he had read much, and was very well accomplished in the most useful parts of human learning.
Rapin (in his reflections) speaking of the necessary qualities belonging to a poet, tells us, he must have a genius extraordinary; great natural gifts; a wit just, fruitful, piercing, solid, and universal; an understanding clear and distinct; an imagination neat and pleasant; an elevation of soul, that depends not only on art or study, but is purely the gift of heaven, which must be sustained by a lively sense and vivacity; judgment to consider wisely of things, and vivacity for the beautiful expression of them, &c.
Now, how justly this character is due to our Author, we leave to the impartial reader, and those of nicer judgment, who had the happiness to be more intimately acquainted with him.
The reputation of this incomparable Poem is so thoroughly established in the world, that it would be superfluous, if not impertinent, to endeavour any panegyric upon it. King Charles ii. whom the judicious part of mankind will readily acknowledge to be a sovereign judge of wit, was so great an admirer of it, that he would often pleasantly quote it in his conversation. However, since most men have a curiosity to have some account of such anonymous authors, whose compositions have been eminent for wit or learning, we have, for their information, subjoined a short Life of the Author.
Samuel Butler, the Author of this excellent Poem, was born in the Parish of Strensham, in the county of Worcester, and baptized there the 13th of Feb. 1612. His father, who was of the same name, was an honest country farmer, who had some small estate of his own, but rented a much greater of the Lord of the Manor where he lived. However, perceiving in this son an early inclination to learning, he made a shift to have him educated in the free-school at Worcester, under Mr. Henry Bright; where having passed the usual time, and being become an excellent school-scholar, he went for some little time to Cambridge, but was never matriculated into that University, his father’s abilities not being sufficient to be at the charge of an academical education; so that our Author returned soon into his native county, and became clerk to one Mr. Jefferys, of Earl’s-Croom, an eminent Justice of the Peace for that County, with whom he lived some years, in an easy and no contemptible service. Here by the indulgence of a kind master, he had sufficient leisure to apply himself to whatever learning his inclinations led him, which were chiefly history and poetry; to which, for his diversion, he joined music and painting; and I have seen some pictures, said to be of his drawing, which remained in that family; which I mention not for the excellency of them, but to satisfy the reader of his early inclinations to that noble art; for which also he was afterwards entirely beloved by Mr. Samuel Cooper, one of the most eminent painters of his time.
He was after this recommended to that great encourager of learning, Elizabeth Countess of Kent, where he had not only the opportunity to consult all manner of learned books, but to converse also with that living library of learning, the great Mr Selden.
Our Author lived some time also with Sir Samuel Luke, who was of an ancient family in Bedfordshire but, to his dishonour, an eminent commander under the usurper Oliver Cromwell: and then it was, as I am informed, he composed this loyal Poem. For, though fate, more than choice, seems to have placed him in the service of a Knight so notorious, both in his person and politics, yet, by the rule of contraries, one may observe throughout his whole Poem, that he was most orthodox, both in his religion and loyalty. And I am the more induced to believe he wrote it about that time, because he had then the opportunity to converse with those living characters of rebellion, nonsense, and hypocrisy, which he so livelily and pathetically exposes throughout the whole work.
After the restoration of King Charles ii. those who were at the helm, minding money more than merit, our Author found that verse in Juvenal to be exactly verified in himself:
Haud facile emergunt, quorum virtutibus obstat Res angusta domi: [They do not easily rise whose virtues are held back by the straitened circumstances of their home]
And being endued with that innate modesty, which rarely finds promotion in princes’ courts. He became Secretary to Richard Earl of Carbury, Lord President of the Principality of Wales, who made him Steward of Ludlow-Castle, when the Court there was revived. About this time he married one Mrs. Herbert, a gentlewoman of a very good family, but no widow, as the Oxford Antiquary has reported; she had a competent fortune, but it was most of it unfortunately lost, by being put out on ill securities, so that it was of little advantage to him. He is reported by the Antiquary to have been Secretary to his Grace George Duke of Buckingham, when he was Chancellor to the University of Cambridge; but whether that be true or no, it is certain, the Duke had a great kindness for him, and was often a benefactor to him. But no man was a more generous friend to him, than that Mecaenas of all learned and witty men, Charles Lord Buckhurst, the late Earl of Dorset and Middlesex, who, being himself an excellent poet, knew how to set a just value upon the ingenious performances of others, and has often taken care privately to relieve and supply the necessities of those, whose modesty would endeavour to conceal them; of which our author was a signal instance, as several others have been, who are now living. In fine the integrity of his life, the acuteness of his wit, and easiness of his conversation, had rendered him most acceptable to all men; yet he prudently avoided a multiplicity of acquaintance, and wisely chose such only whom his discerning judgment could distinguish (as Mr. Cowley expresseth it)
From the great vulgar or the small.
And having thus lived to a good old age, admired by all, though personally known to few, he departed this life in the year 1680, and was buried at the charge of his good friend Mr. Longuevil, of the Temple, in the yard belonging to the church of St. Paul’s Covent-garden, at the west-end of the said yard, on the north side, under the wall of the said church, and under that wall which parts the yard from the common highway. And since he has no monument yet set up for him, give me leave to borrow his epitaph from that of Michael Drayton, the poet, as the author of Mr. Cowley’s has partly done before me:
And though no monument can claim
To be the treasurer of thy name;
This work, which ne’er will die, shall be
An everlasting monument to thee.
CANTO I
------------------------------------------------- Sir Hudibras his passing worth, The manner how he sallied forth; His arms and equipage are shown; His horse’s virtues, and his own. Th’ adventure of the bear and fiddle Is sung, but breaks off in the middle. -------------------------------------------------
He was in logic a great critic,
65 THOMAS, or, at once,
Profoundly skill’d in
He could distinguish, and divide
A hair ’twixt south, and south-west side:
On either which he would dispute,
Confute, change hands, and still confute,
70
He’d undertake to prove, by force
Of argument, a man’s no horse;
He’d prove a buzzard is no fowl,
And that a lord may be an owl,
A calf an alderman, a goose a justice,
75
And rooks Committee-men and Trustees.
He’d run in debt by disputation,
And pay with ratiocination.
All this by syllogism, true
In mood and figure, he would do.
80
For rhetoric, he could not ope
His mouth, but out there flew a trope;
And when he happen’d to break off
I’ th’ middle of his speech, or cough,
H’ had hard words,ready to show why,
85
And tell what rules he did it by;
Else, when with greatest art he spoke,
You’d think he talk’d like other folk,
For all a rhetorician’s rules
Teach nothing but to name his tools.
90
His ordinary rate of speech
In loftiness of sound was rich;
A Babylonish
Which learned pedants much affect.
It was a parti-colour’d dress
95
Of patch’d and pie-bald languages;
’Twas English cut on Greek and Latin,
Like fustian heretofore on satin;
It had an odd promiscuous tone,
As if h’ had talk’d three parts in one;
100
Which made some think, when he did gabble,
Th’ had heard three labourers of Babel;
Or
Page 6
A leash of languages at once.
This he as volubly would vent
105
As if his stock would ne’er be spent:
And truly, to support that charge,
He had supplies as vast and large;
For he cou’d coin, or counterfeit
New words, with little or no wit:
110
Words so debas’d and hard, no stone
Was hard enough to touch them on;
And when with hasty noise he spoke ’em,
The ignorant for current took ’em;
That had the
Did fill his mouth with pebble stones
When he harangu’d, but known his phrase
He would have us’d no other ways.
In mathematicks he was greater
Than TYCHO BRAHE, or ERRA PATER:
120
For he, by geometric scale,
Could take the size of pots of ale;
Resolve, by sines and tangents straight,
If bread or butter wanted weight,
And wisely tell what hour o’ th’ day
125
The clock does strike by algebra.
Beside, he was a shrewd PHILOSOPHER,
And had read ev’ry text and gloss over;
Whate’er the crabbed’st author hath,
He understood b’ implicit faith:
130
Whatever
For ev’ry why he had a wherefore;
Knew more than forty of them do,
As far as words and terms cou’d go.
All which he understood by rote,
135
And, as occasion serv’d, would quote;
No matter whether right or wrong,
They might be either said or sung.
His notions fitted things so well,
That which was which he could not tell;
140
But oftentimes mistook th’ one
For th’ other, as great clerks have done.
He could
And knew their natures by abstracts;
Where entity and quiddity,
145
The ghosts of defunct bodies fly;
Where
Like words
He knew what’s what, and that’s as high
As metaphysic wit can fly;
150
In school-divinity as able
As
A second
To name them all, another DUNCE:
Profound in all the Nominal
155
And Real ways, beyond them all:
For he a rope of sand cou’d twist
As tough as learned SORBONIST;
And weave fine cobwebs, fit for skull
That’s empty when the moon is full;
160
Such as take lodgings in a head
That’s to be let unfurnished.
He could raise scruples dark and nice,
And after solve ’em in a trice;
As if Divinity had catch’d
165
The itch, on purpose to be scratch’d;
Or, like a mountebank, did wound
And stab herself with doubts profound,
Only to show with how small pain
Page 7
The sores of Faith are cur’d again;
170
Although by woeful proof we find,
They always leave a scar behind.
He knew
Could tell in what degree it lies;
And, as he was dispos’d, could prove it,
175
Below the moon, or else above it.
What Adam dreamt of, when his bride
Came from her closet in his side:
Whether the devil tempted her
By a High Dutch interpreter;
180
If either of them
Who first made music malleable:
Whether the serpent, at the fall,
Had cloven feet, or none at all.
All this, without a gloss, or comment,
185
He could unriddle in a moment,
In proper terms, such as men smatter
When they throw out, and miss the matter.
For his Religion, it was fit
To match his learning and his wit;
190
’Twas Presbyterian true blue;
For he was of that stubborn crew
Of errant saints, whom all men grant
To be the true Church Militant;
Such as do build their faith upon
195
The holy text of pike and gun;
Decide all controversies by
Infallible artillery;
And prove their doctrine orthodox
By apostolic blows and knocks;
200
Call fire and sword and desolation,
A godly thorough reformation,
Which always must be carried on,
And still be doing, never done;
As if religion were intended
205
For nothing else but to be mended.
A sect, whose chief devotion lies
In odd perverse antipathies;
In falling out with that or this,
And finding somewhat still amiss;
210
More peevish, cross, and splenetick,
Than dog distract, or monkey sick.
That with more care keep holy-day
The wrong, than others the right way;
Compound for sins they are inclin’d to,
215
By damning those they have no mind to:
Still so perverse and opposite,
As if they worshipp’d God for spite.
The self-same thing they will abhor
One way, and long another for.
220
Free-will they one way disavow,
Another, nothing else allow:
All piety consists therein
In them, in other men all sin:
Rather than fail, they will defy
225
That which they love most tenderly;
Quarrel with minc’d-pies, and disparage
Their best and dearest friend, plum-porridge;
Fat pig and goose itself oppose,
And blaspheme custard through the nose.
230
Th’ apostles of this fierce religion,
Like Mahomet’s,
To whom our knight, by fast instinct
Of wit and temper, was so linkt,
As if hypocrisy and nonsense
235
Had got th’ advowson of his conscience.
Thus was he gifted and accouter’d;
We mean on th’ inside, not the outward;
That next of all we shall discuss:
Then listen, Sirs, it follows thus
240
His tawny beard was th’ equal grace
Both of his wisdom and his face;
In cut and dye so like a tile,
A sudden view it would beguile:
The upper part thereof was whey;
245
The nether, orange mix’d with grey.
This hairy meteor did denounce
The fall of scepters and of crowns;
With grisly type did represent
Declining age of government;
250
And tell with hieroglyphick spade,
Its own grave and the state’s were made.
Like SAMPSON’S heart-breakers, it grew
In time to make a nation rue;
Tho’ it contributed its own fall,
255
To wait upon the publick downfal,
It was
In holy orders by strict vow;
Of rule as sullen and severe
As that of rigid Cordeliere.
260
’Twas bound to suffer persecution
And martyrdom with resolution;
T’ oppose itself against the hate
And vengeance of th’ incensed state;
In whose defiance it was worn,
265
Still ready to be pull’d and torn;
With red-hot irons to be tortur’d;
Revil’d, and spit upon, and martyr’d.
Maugre all which, ’twas to stand fast
As long as monarchy shou’d last;
270
But when the state should hap to reel,
’Twas to submit to fatal steel,
And fall, as it was consecrate,
A sacrifice to fall of state;
Whose thread of life the fatal sisters
275
Did twist together with its whiskers,
And twine so close, that time should never,
In life or death, their fortunes sever;
But with his rusty sickle mow
Both down together at a blow.
280
So learned Taliacotius
The brawny part of porter’s bum
Cut supplemental noses, which
Wou’d last as long as parent breech;
But when the date of Nock was out,
285
Off drop’d the sympathetic snout.
His back, or rather burthen, show’d,
As if it stoop’d with its own load:
For as Aeneas
Upon his shoulders thro’ the fire,
290
Our Knight did bear no less a pack
Of his own buttocks on his back;
Which now had almost got the upper-
Hand of his head, for want of crupper.
To poise this equally, he bore
295
A paunch of the same bulk before;
Which still he had a special care
To keep well-cramm’d with thrifty fare;
As white-pot, butter-milk, and curds,
Such as a country-house affords;
300
With other vittle, which anon
We farther shall dilate upon,
When of his hose we come to treat,
The cupboard where he kept his meat.
His doublet was of sturdy buff,
305
And tho’ not sword, yet cudgel-proof;
Whereby ’twas fitter for his use,
Who fear’d no blows, but such as bruise.
His breeches were of rugged woollen,
And had been at the siege of Bullen;
310
To old King Harry so well known,
Some writers held they were his own.
Thro’ they were lin’d with many a piece
Of ammunition bread and cheese,
And fat black-puddings, proper food
315
For warriors that delight in blood.
For, as we said, he always chose
To carry vittle in his hose,
That often tempted rats and mice
The ammunition to surprise:
320
And when he put a hand but in
The one or t’ other magazine,
They stoutly in defence on’t stood,
And from the wounded foe drew blood;
And ‘till th’ were storm’d and beaten
out, 325
Ne’er left the fortify’d redoubt.
And tho’ Knights Errant, as some think,
Of old did neither eat nor drink,
Because, when thorough desarts vast,
And regions desolate, they past,
330
Where belly-timber above ground,
Or under, was not to be found,
Unless they graz’d, there’s not one word
Of their provision on record;
Which made some confidently write,
335
They had no stomachs, but to fight.
’Tis false: for Arthur wore in
hall
Round table like a farthingal,
On which with shirt pull’d out behind,
And eke before, his good Knights din’d.
340
Though ’twas no table, some suppose,
But a huge pair of round trunk hose;
In which he carry’d as much meat
As he and all the Knights cou’d eat,
When, laying by their swords and truncheons,
345
They took their breakfasts, or their nuncheons.
But let that pass at present, lest
We should forget where we digrest,
As learned authors use, to whom
We leave it, and to th’ purpose come,
350
His puissant sword unto his side,
Near his undaunted heart, was ty’d;
With basket-hilt, that wou’d hold broth,
And serve for fight and dinner both.
In it he melted lead for bullets,
355
To shoot at foes, and sometimes pullets,
To whom he bore so fell a grutch,
He ne’er gave quarter t’ any such.
The trenchant blade, Toledo trusty,
For want of fighting, was grown rusty,
360
And ate unto itself, for lack
Of somebody to hew and hack.
The peaceful scabbard where it dwelt
The rancour of its edge had felt;
For of the lower end two handful
365
It had devour’d, ’twas so manful;
And so much scorn’d to lurk in case,
As if it durst not shew its face.
In many desperate attempts,
Of warrants, exigents, contempts,
370
It had appear’d with courage bolder
Than Serjeant bum invading shoulder.
Oft had it ta’en possession,
And pris’ners too, or made them run.
This sword a dagger had t’ his page,
375
That was but little for his age;
And therefore waited on him so,
As dwarfs upon Knights Errant do.
It was a serviceable dudgeon,
Either for fighting or for drudging.
380
When it had stabb’d, or broke a head,
It would scrape trenchers, or chip bread;
Toast cheese or bacon; tho’ it were
To bait a mouse-trap, ’twould not care.
’Twould make clean shoes; and in the earth
385
Set leeks and onions, and so forth.
It had been ’prentice to a brewer,
Where this and more it did endure;
But left the trade,
Have lately done on the same score.
390
In th’ holsters, at his saddle-bow,
Two aged pistols he did stow,
Among the surplus of such meat
As in his hose he cou’d not get.
These wou’d inveigle rats with th’ scent,
395
To forage when the cocks were bent;
And sometimes catch ’em with a snap
As cleverly as th’ ablest trap.
They were upon hard duty still,
And ev’ry night stood centinel,
400
To guard the magazine i’ th’ hose
From two-legg’d and from four-legg’d foes.
Thus clad and fortify’d, Sir Knight
From peaceful home set forth to fight.
But first with nimble, active force
405
He got on th’ outside of his horse;
For having but one stirrup ty’d
T’ his saddle, on the further side,
It was so short, h’ had much ado
To reach it with his desp’rate toe:
410
But, after many strains and heaves,
He got up to the saddle-eaves,
From whence he vaulted into th’ seat,
With so much vigour, strength and heat,
That he had almost tumbled over
415
With his own weight, but did recover,
By laying hold on tail and main,
Which oft he us’d instead of rein.
But now we talk of mounting steed,
Before we further do proceed,
420
It doth behoves us to say something
Of that which bore our valiant bumkin.
The beast was sturdy, large, and tall,
With mouth of meal, and eyes of wall.
I wou’d say eye; for h’ had but one,
425
As most agree; tho’ some say none.
He was well stay’d; and in his gait
Preserv’d a grave, majestick state.
At spur or switch no more he skipt,
Or mended pace, than Spaniard whipt;
430
And yet so fiery, he wou’d bound
As if he griev’d to touch the ground:
That CAESAR’s horse
Had corns upon his feet and toes,
Was not by half so tender hooft,
435
Nor trod upon the ground so soft.
And as that beast would kneel and stoop
(Some write) to take his rider up,
So Hudibras his (’tis well known)
Page 11
Wou’d often do to set him down.
440
We shall not need to say what lack
Of leather was upon his back;
For that was hidden under pad,
And breech of Knight, gall’d full as bad.
His strutting ribs on both sides show’d
445
Like furrows he himself had plow’d;
For underneath the skirt of pannel,
’Twixt ev’ry two there was a channel
His draggling tail hung in the dirt,
Which on his rider he wou’d flurt,
450
Still as his tender side he prick’d,
With arm’d heel, or with unarm’d kick’d:
For Hudibras wore but one spur;
As wisely knowing, cou’d he stir
To active trot one side of’s horse,
455
The other wou’d not hang an arse.
A squire he had, whose name was Ralph,
That in th’ adventure went his half:
Though writers, for more stately tone,
Do call him Ralpho; ’tis all one;
460
And when we can with metre safe,
We’ll call him so; if not, plain Ralph:
(For rhyme the rudder is of verses,
With which like ships they steer their courses.)
An equal stock of wit and valour
465
He had laid in; by birth a taylor.
The mighty Tyrian Queen,
With subtle shreds a tract of land,
Did leave it with a castle fair
To his great ancestor, her heir.
470
From him descended cross-legg’d Knights,
Fam’d for their faith, and warlike fights
Against the bloody cannibal,
Whom they destroy’d both great and small.
This sturdy Squire, he had, as well
475
As the
Not with a counterfeited pass
Of golden bough, but true gold-lace.
His knowledge was not far behind
The Knight’s, but of another kind,
480
And he another way came by ’t:
Some call it gifts, and some new-light;
A liberal art, that costs no pains
Of study, industry, or brains.
His wit was sent him for a token,
485
But in the carriage crack’d and broken.
Like commendation nine-pence crook’d,
With — To and from my love —
it look’d.
He ne’er consider’d it, as loth
To look a gift-horse in the mouth;
490
And very wisely wou’d lay forth
No more upon it than ’twas worth.
But as he got it freely, so
He spent it frank and freely too.
For Saints themselves will sometimes be
495
Of gifts, that cost them nothing, free.
By means of this, with hem and cough,
Prolongers to enlighten’d stuff,
He cou’d deep mysteries unriddle
As easily as thread a needle.
500
For as of vagabonds we say,
That they are ne’er beside their way;
Whate’er men speak by this New Light,
Page 12
Still they are sure to be i’ th’ right.
’Tis a dark-lanthorn of the Spirit,
505
Which none see by but those that bear it:
A light that falls down from on high,
For spiritual trades to cozen by
An Ignis Fatuus, that bewitches
And leads men into pools and ditches,
510
To make them dip themselves, and sound
For Christendom in dirty pond
To dive like wild-fowl for salvation,
And fish to catch regeneration.
This light inspires and plays upon
515
The nose of Saint like bag-pipe drone,
And speaks through hollow empty soul,
As through a trunk, or whisp’ring hole,
Such language as no mortal ear
But spirit’al eaves-droppers can hear:
520
So Phoebus, or some friendly muse,
Into small poets song infuse,
Which they at second-hand rehearse,
Thro’ reed or bag-pipe, verse for verse.
Thus Ralph became infallible
525
As
The ancient cup, or modern chair;
Spoke truth point-blank, tho’ unaware.
For mystick learning, wond’rous able
In
Whose primitive tradition reaches
As far as ADAM’S first green breeches:
Deep-sighted in intelligences,
Ideas, atoms, influences;
And much of Terra Incognita, <>
535
Th’ intelligible world, cou’d say:
A deep OCCULT PHILOSOPHER,
As learn’d
Or Sir AGRIPPA
And solid lying much renown’d.
540
He
And JACOB BEHMEN understood:
Knew many an amulet and charm,
That wou’d do neither good nor harm:
In ROSY-CRUCIAN
As he that Vere adeptus earned.
He understood the speech of birds
As well as they themselves do words;
Cou’d tell what subtlest parrots mean,
That speak, and think contrary clean:
550
What Member ’tis of whom they talk,
When they cry, Rope, and walk, knave, walk.
He’d extract numbers out of matter,
And keep them in a glass, like water;
Of sov’reign pow’r to make men wise;
555
For drop’d in blear thick-sighted eyes,
They’d make them see in darkest night
Like owls, tho’ purblind in the light.
By help of these (as he profess’d)
He had First Matter seen undress’d:
560
He took her naked all alone,
Before one rag of form was on.
The Chaos too he had descry’d,
And seen quite thro’, or else he ly’d:
Not that of paste-board which men shew
565
For groats, at fair of Barthol’mew;
But its great grandsire, first o’ the name,
Whence that and REFORMATION came;
Page 13
Both cousin-germans, and right able
T’ inveigle and draw in the rabble.
570
But Reformation was, some say,
O’ th’ younger house to Puppet-play.
He cou’d foretel whats’ever was
By consequence to come to pass;
As death of great men, alterations,
575
Diseases, battles, inundations.
All this, without th’ eclipse o’ th’
sun,
Or dreadful comet, he hath done,
By inward light; away as good,
And easy to be understood;
580
But with more lucky hit than those
That use to make the stars depose,
Like Knights o’ th’ post, and falsely
charge
Upon themselves what others forge:
As if they were consenting to
585
All mischiefs in the world men do:
Or, like the Devil, did tempt and sway ’em
To rogueries, and then betray ’em.
They’ll search a planet’s house, to know
Who broke and robb’d a house below:
590
Examine VENUS, and the MOON,
Who stole a thimble or a spoon;
And tho’ they nothing will confess,
Yet by their very looks can guess,
And tell what guilty aspect bodes,
595
Who stole, and who receiv’d the goods.
They’ll question MARS, and, by his look,
Detect who ’twas that nimm’d a cloke:
Make MERCURY confess, and ’peach
Those thieves which he himself did teach.
600
They’ll find, i’ th’ physiognomies
O’ th’ planets, all men’s destinies.;
Like him that took the doctor’s bill,
And swallow’d it instead o’ th’
pill
Cast the nativity o’ th’ question,
605
And from positions to be guess’d on,
As sure as it’ they knew the moment
Of natives birth, tell what will come on’t.
They’ll feel the pulses of the stars,
To find out agues, coughs, catarrhs;
610
And tell what crisis does divine
The rot in sheep, or mange in swine
In men, what gives or cures the itch;
What makes them cuckolds, poor or rich;
What gains or loses, hangs or saves;
615
What makes men great, what fools or knaves,
But not what wise; for only of those
The stars (they say) cannot dispose,
No more than can the Astrologians.
There they say right, and like true Trojans.
This RALPHO knew, and therefore took
620
The other course, of which we spoke.
Thus was the accomplish’d Squire endu’d
With gifts and knowledge, per’lous shrew’d.
Never did trusty Squire with Knight,
Or Knight with Squire, e’er jump more right.
625
Their arms and equipage did fit,
As well as virtues, parts, and wit.
Their valours too were of a rate;
And out they sally’d at the gate.
630
Few miles on horseback had they jogged,
But Fortune unto them turn’d dogged;
Thou that with ale, or viler liquors,
645
Did’st inspire Withers, Pryn
And force them, tho’ it was in spite
Of nature and their stars, to write;
Who, as we find in sullen writs,
And cross-grain’d works of modern wits,
650
With vanity, opinion, want,
The wonder of the ignorant,
The praises of the author, penn’d
B’ himself, or wit-insuring friend;
The itch of picture in the front,
655
With bays and wicked rhyme upon’t;
All that is left o’ th’ forked hill,
To make men scribble without skill;
Canst make a poet spite of fate,
And teach all people to translate,
660
Tho’ out of languages in which
They understand no part of speech;
Assist me but this once, I ’mplore,
And I shall trouble thee no more.
In western clime there is a town,
665
To those that dwell therein well known;
Therefore there needs no more be said here,
We unto them refer our reader;
For brevity is very good,
When w’ are, or are not, understood.
670
To this town people did repair,
On days of market, or of fair,
And, to crack’d fiddle, and hoarse tabor,
In merriment did drudge and labor.
But now a sport more formidable
675
Had rak’d together village rabble:
’Twas an old way of recreating,
Which learned butchers call bear-baiting:
A bold advent’rous exercise,
With ancient heroes in high prize:
680
For authors do affirm it came
From Isthmian or Nemean game:
Others derive it from the bear
That’s fix’d in northern hemisphere,
And round about the pole does make
685
A circle like a bear at stake,
That at the chain’s end wheels about,
And overturns the rabble-rout.
For after solemn proclamation,
In the bear’s name, (as is the fashion,
690
According to the law of arms,
To keep men from inglorious harms,)
That none presume to come so near
As forty foot of stake of bear,
If any yet be so fool-hardy,
695
T’ expose themselves to vain jeopardy,
If they come wounded off, and lame,
No honour’s got by such a maim;
Altho’ the bear gain much, b’ing bound
We that
are wisely mounted higher
Than constables in curule wit,
When on tribunal bench we sit,
Like speculators shou’d foresee,
From Pharos of authority,
Portended mischiefs farther then
Low Proletarian tything-men:
720
And therefore being inform’d by bruit,
That dog and bear are to dispute;
For so of late men fighting name,
Because they often prove the same;
(For where the first does hap to be,
725
The last does coincidere;)
Quantum in nobis, have thought good,
To save th’ expence of Christian blood,
And try if we, by mediation
Of treaty and accommodation,
730
Can end the quarrel and compose
The bloody duel without blows.
Are not our liberties, our lives,
The laws, religion and our wives,
Enough at once to lie at stake
735
For Cov’nant and the Cause’s sake?
But in that quarrel dogs and bears,
As well as we must venture theirs
This feud, by Jesuits invented,
By evil counsel is fomented:
740
There is a MACHIAVILIAN plot,
(Tho’ ev’ry Nare olfact is not,)
A deep design in’t, to divide
The well-affected that confide,
By setting brother against brother,
745
To claw and curry one another.
Have we not enemies plus satis,
That Cane & Angue pejus hate us?
And shall we turn our fangs and claws
Upon our own selves, without cause?
750
That some occult design doth lie
In bloody cynarctomachy,
Is plain enough to him that knows
How Saints lead brothers by the nose.
I wish myself a pseudo-prophet,
755
But sure some mischief will come of it;
Unless by providential wit,
Or force, we
For what design, what interest,
Can beast have to encounter beast?
760
They fight for no espoused cause,
Frail privilege, fundamental laws,
Not for a thorough reformation,
Nor covenant, nor protestation,
Nor liberty of consciences,
765
Nor Lords and Commons ordinances;
Nor for the church, nor for church-lands,
Page 16
To get them in their own no hands;
Nor evil counsellors to bring
To justice that seduce the King;
770
Nor for the worship of us men,
Though we have done as much for them.
Th’ AEgyptians worshipp’d dogs, and for
Their faith made internecine war.
Others ador’d a rat, and some
775
For that church suffer’d martyrdom.
The Indians fought for the truth
Of th’ elephant and monkey’s tooth,
And many, to defend that faith,
Fought it out mordicus to death.
780
But no beast ever was so slight,
For man, as for his God, to fight.
They have more wit, alas! and know
Themselves and us better than so.
But we, who only do infuse
785
The rage in them like
’Tis our example that instils
In them th’ infection of our ills.
For, as some late philosophers.
Have well observ’d, beasts, that converse
790
With man, take after him, as hogs
Get pigs all the year, and bitches dogs.
Just so, by our example, cattle
Learn to give one another battle.
We read, in NERO’s time, the heathen,
795
When they destroy’d the Christian brethren,
Did sew them in the skins of bears,
And then set dogs about their ears:
From thence, no doubt, th’ invention came
Of this lewd antichristian game.
800
To this, quoth Ralpho, Verily
The point seems very plain to me.
It is an antichristian game,
Unlawful both in thing and name.
First, for the name: the word, bear-baiting
805
Is carnal, and of man’s creating:
For certainly there’s no such word
In all the scripture on record;
Therefore unlawful, and a sin;
And so is (secondly) the thing.
810
A vile assembly ’tis, that can
No more be prov’d by scripture than
Provincial, classic, national;
Mere human-creature cobwebs all.
Thirdly, it is idolatrous;
815
For when men run a whoring thus
With their inventions, whatsoe’er
The thing be, whether dog or bear,
It is idolatrous and pagan,
No less than worshipping of Dagon.
820
Quoth Hudibras, I smell a rat;
Ralpho, thou dost prevaricate:
For though the thesis which thou lay’st
Be true ad amussim, as thou say’st;
(For that bear-baiting should appear
825
Jure divino lawfuller
Than synods are, thou dost deny,
Totidem verbis; so do I;)
Yet there’s a fallacy in this;
For if by sly HOMAEOSIS,
830
Tussis pro crepitu, an art
Under a cough to slur a f—t
Thou wou’dst sophistically imply,
Both are unlawful, I deny.
And I (quoth Ralpho) do not doubt
835
But bear-baiting may be made out,
In gospel-times, as lawful as is
Provincial or parochial classis;
And that both are so near of kin,
And like in all, as well as sin,
840
That put them in a bag, and shake ’em,
Yourself o’ th’ sudden would mistake ’em,
And not know which is which, unless
You measure by their wickedness:
For ’tis not hard t’imagine whether
845
O’ th’ two is worst; tho’ I name
neither.
Quoth Hudibras, Thou offer’st much,
But art not able to keep touch.
Mira de lente, as ‘tis i’ th’ adage,
Id est, to make a leek a cabbage;
850
Thou’lt be at best but such a bull,
Or shear-swine, all cry, and no wool;
For what can synods have at all
With bear that’s analogical?
Or what relation has debating
855
Of church-affairs with bear-baiting?
A just comparison still is
Of things ejusdem generis;
And then what genus rightly doth
Include and comprehend them both?
860
If animal both of us may
As justly pass for bears as they;
For we are animals no less,
Altho’ of different specieses.
But, Ralpho, this is not fit place
865
Nor time to argue out the case:
For now the field is not far off,
Where we must give the world a proof
Of deeds, not words, and such as suit
Another manner of dispute;
870
A controversy that affords
Actions for arguments, not words;
Which we must manage at a rate
Of prowess and conduct adequate
To what our place and fame doth promise,
875
And all the godly expect from us,
Nor shall they be deceiv’d, unless
We’re slurr’d and outed by success;
Success, the mark no mortal wit,
Or surest hand can always hit:
880
For whatsoe’er we perpetrate,
We do but row, we’re steer’d by Fate,
Which in success oft disinherits,
For spurious causes, noblest merits.
Great actions are not always true sons
885
Of great and mighty resolutions;
Nor do th’ boldest attempts bring forth
Events still equal to their worth;
But sometimes fail, and, in their stead,
Fortune and cowardice succeed.
890
Yet we have no great cause to doubt;
Our actions still have borne us out;
Which tho’ they’re known to be so ample,
We need not copy from example.
We’re not the only persons durst
895
Attempt this province, nor the first.
In northern clime a val’rous Knight
Did whilom kill his bear in fght,
And wound a fiddler; we have both
Of these the objects of our wroth,
900
’Tis said, as yerst the Phrygian Knight,
So ours with rusty steel did smite
His Trojan horse, and just as much
He mended pace upon the touch;
920
But from his empty stomach groan’d
Just as that hollow beast did sound,
And angry answer’d from behind,
With brandish’d tail and blast of wind.
So have I seen, with armed heel,
925
A wight bestride a Common-weal;
While still the more he kick’d and spurr’d,
The less the sullen jade has stirr’d.
Notes to Part I, Canto I.
1. When civil a dudgeon, &c.] Dudgeon. Who made the alterations in the last Edition of this poem I know not, but they are certainly sometimes for the worse; and I cannot believe the Author would have changed a word so proper in that place as dudgeon for that of fury, as it is in the last Edition. To take in dudgeon, is inwardly to resent some injury or affront; a sort of grumbling in the gizzard, and what is previous to actual fury.
24 b That could as well, &c.] Bind over to the Sessions as being a Justice of the Peace in his County, as well as Colonel of a Regiment of Foot in the Parliament’s army, and a committee-Man.
38 c As Montaigne, &c.] Montaigne, in his Essays, supposes his cat thought him a fool, for losing his time in playing with her.
62 d To make some, &c.] Here again is an alteration without any amendment; for the following lines,
And truly, so he was, perhaps,
Not as a Proselyte, but for Claps,
Are thus changed,
And truly so, perhaps, he was;
’Tis many a pious Christian’s case.
The Heathens had an odd opinion, and have a strange reason why Moses imposed the law of circumcision on the Jews, which, how untrue soever, I will give the learned reader an account of without translation, as I find it in the annotations upon Horace, wrote by my worthy and learned friend Mr. William Baxter, the great restorer of the ancient and promoter of modern learning. Hor. Sat. 9. Sermon. Lib. I. — Curtis; quia pellicula imminuti sunt; quia Moses Rex Judoeorum, cujus Legibus reguntur, negligentia PHIMOZEIS medicinaliter exsectus est, & ne soles esset notabi omnes circumcidi voluit.
66 e Profoundly skill’d, &c.] Analytick is a part of logic, that teaches to decline and construe reason, as grammar does words.
93 f A Babylonish, &c.] A confusion of languages, such as some of our modern Virtuosi used to express themselves in.
103 g Or Cerberus himself, &c.] Cerberus; a name which poets give a dog with three heads, which they feigned door-keeper of Hell, that caressed the unfortunate souls sent thither, and devoured them that would get out again; yet Hercules tied him up, and made him follow. This dog with three heads denotes the past, the present, and the time to come; which receive, and, as it were, devour all things. Hercules got the better of him, which shews that heroic actions are always victorious over time, because they are present in the memory of posterity.
115 h That had the, &c.] Demosthenes, who is said to have had a defect in his pronunciation, which he cured by using to speak with little stones in his mouth.
120 i Than tycho brahe, &c.] Tycho Brahe was an eminent Danish mathematician. Quer. in Collier’s Dictionary, or elsewhere.
131 k Whatever Sceptick, &c.] Sceptick. Pyrrho was the chief of the Sceptick Philosophers, and was at first, as Apollodorus saith, a painter, then became the hearer of Driso, and at last the disciple of Anaxagoras, whom he followed into India, to see the Gymnosophists. He pretended that men did nothing but by custom; there was neither honesty nor dishonesty, justice nor injustice, good nor evil. He was very solitary, lived to be ninety years old, was highly esteemed in his country, and created chief priest. He lived in the time of Epicurus and Theophrastus, about the 120th Olympiad. His followers were called Phyrrhonians; besides which they were named the Ephecticks and Aphoreticks, but
143 l He cou’d reduce, &c.] The old philosophers thought to extract notions out of natural things, as chymists do spirits and essences; and, when they had refined them into the nicest subtilties, gave them as insignificant names as those operators do their extractions: But (as Seneca says) the subtiler things are they are but the nearer to nothing. So are all their definitions of things by acts the nearer to nonsense.
147 m Where Truth, &c.] Some authors have mistaken truth for a real thing, when it is nothing but a right method of putting those notions or images of things (in the understanding of man) into the same and order that their originals hold in nature, and therefore Aristotle says Unumquodque sicut habet secundum esse, ita se habet secundum veritatem. Met. L. ii. [As every thing has a secondary essence, therefore it has a secondary truth]
148 n Like words congeal’d, &c.] Some report in Nova Zembla, and Greenland, mens’ words are wont to be frozen in the air, and at the thaw may heard.
151 In School-Divinity as able,
As o he that Hight, Irrefragable,
&c.]
Here again is another alteration of three or lines,
as I think, for the worse. Some specific epithets
were added to the title of some famous doctors, as
Angelicus, Irrefragabilis, Subtilis, [Angelic, Unopposable,
Discriminating] &c. Vide Vossi Etymolog.
Baillet Jugemens de Scavans, & Possevin’s Apparatus
153 p A Second Thomas or at once,
To name them all, another
dunce.
Thomas Aquinas, a Dominican friar, was born in 1224,
and studied at Cologne and Paris. He new modelled
the school-divinity, and was therefore called the
Angelic Doctor, and Eagle of Divines. The most
illustrious persons of his time were ambitious of
his friendship, and put a high value on his merits,
so that they offered him bishopricks, which he refused
with as much ardor as others seek after them.
He died in the fiftieth year of his age, and was canonized
by Pope John XII. We have his works in eighteen
volumes, several times printed.
Johannes Dunscotus was a very learned man, who lived about the end of the thirteenth and beginning of the fourteenth century. The English and Scotch strive which of them shall have the honour of his birth. The English say, he was born in Northumberland: the Scots alledge he was born at Duns, in the Mers, the neighbouring county to Northumberland, and hence was called Dunscotus. Moreri, Buchanan, and other Scotch historians, are of this opinion, and for proof cite his epitaph:
Scotia me genuit, Anglia suscepit,
Gallia edocuit, Germania tenet.
[Scotland bore me, England reared me,
France instructed me, Germany kept me.]
He died at Cologne, Novem. 8. 1308. In the Supplement to Dr. Cave’s Historia Literaria, he is said to be extraordinary learned in physicks, metaphysicks, mathematicks, and astronomy; that his fame was so great when at Oxford, that 30,000 scholars came thither to hear his lectures: that when at Paris, his arguments and authority carried it for the immaculate conception of the Blessed Virgin; so that they appointed a festival on that account, and would admit us scholars to degrees but such as were of this mind. He was a great opposer of Thomas Aquinas’s doctrine; and, for being a very acute logician, was called Doctor Subtilis; [Discriminating (or, literally, Slender) Teacher] which was the reason also, that an old punster always called him the Lathy Doctor.
158 q As tough as, &c.] Sorbon was the first and most considerable college of the university of Paris, founded in time reign of St. Lewis, by Robert Sorbon, which name is sometimes given to the whole University of Paris, which was founded, about the year 741, by Charlemagne, at the persuasion of the learned Alcuinus, who was one of the first professors there; since which time it has been very famous. This college has been rebuilt with an extraordinary magnificence, at the charge of Cardinal Richlieu, and contains lodgings for thirty-six doctors, who are called the Society of Sorbon. Those which are received among them before they have received their doctor’s degree are only said to be of the Hospitality of Sorbon. Claud. Hemeraus de Acad. Paris. Spondan in Annal.
173 r he knew, &c.] There is nothing more ridiculous than the various opinions of authors about the seat of Paradise. Sir. Walter Raleigh has taken a great deal of pains to collect them, in the beginning of his History of the World; where those, who are unsatisfied, may be fully informed.
180 s By a High-Dutch, &c.] Goropius Becanus endeavours to prove that High-Dutch was the language that Adam and Eve spoke in Paradise.
181 t If either of &c.] Adam and Eve being made, and not conceived and formed in the womb had no navels as some learned men have supposed, because they had no need of them.
182 u Who first made, &c.] Musick is said to be invented by Pythagoras, who first found out the proportion of notes from the sounds of hammers upon an anvil
232 w Like MAHOMET’s &c.) Mahomet had a tame dove, that used to pick seeds out of his ear that it might be thought to whisper and inspire him. His ass was so intimate with him, that the Mahometans believed it carried him to heaven, and stays there with him to bring him back again.
257 x It was Monastick, and did grow
In holy Orders
by strict Vow.
He made a vow never to cut his beard until the Parliament
had subdued the King; of which order of phanatick
votaries there were many in those times.
281 y So learned Taliacotius &c.] Taliacotius was an Italian surgeon, that found out a way to repair lost and decayed noses. This Taliacotius was chief surgeon to the Great Duke of Tuscany, and wrote a treatise, De Curtis Membris, [Of Cut-off Parts] which he dedicates to his great master wherein he not only declares the models of his wonderful operations in restoring of lost members, but gives you cuts of the very instruments and ligatures he made use of therein; from hence our Author (cum poetica licentia [with poetic licence]) has taken his simile.
289 z For as Aeneas, &c.] AEneas was the son of Anchises and Venus; a Trojan, who, after long travels, came to Italy, and after the death of his father-in-law, Latinus, was made king of Latium, and reigned three years. His story is too long to insert here, and therefore I refer you to Virgil’s AEneids. Troy being laid in ashes, he took his aged father Anchises upon his back, and rescued him from his enemies. But being too solicitous for his son and household gods, he lost his wife Creusa; which Mr. Dryden, in his excellent translation, thus expresseth.
Haste my dear father (tis no time to wait,)
And load my shoulders with a willing freight.
Whate’er befals, your life shall be my care;
One death, or one deliv’rance, we will share.
My hand shall lead our little son; and you,
My faithful consort, shall our steps pursue.
337 a — For Arthur, &c.] Who this Arthur was and whether any ever reigned in Britain, has been doubted heretofore, and is by some to this very day. However, the history of him, which makes him one of the nine worthies of the world, is a subject, sufficient for the Poet to be pleasant upon.
359 b — Toledo trusty, &c.] The capital city of New Castile, Spain, with an archbishopric and primacy. It was very famous, amongst other things, for tempering the best metal for swords, as Damascus was and perhaps may be still.
389 c But left the trade, as many more
Have lately done,
&c.
Oliver Cromwell and Colonel Pride had been both brewers.
433 d That CAESAR’s Horse, who, as Fame goes,
Had corns upon
his Feet and Toes.
Julius Caesar had a horse with feet like a man’s.
Utebatur equo insigni; pedibus prope humanis, modum
digitorum ungulis fissis. [He rode a horse with this
distinction; it had feet like a man’s, having
the hooves split like toes] Suet. in Jul. Cap.
61.
467 c The mighty Tyrian Queen, that gain’d
With subtle Shreds
a Tract of Land.
Dido, Queen of Carthage, who bought as much land as
she could compass with an ox’s hide, which she
cut into small thongs, and cheated the owner of so
much ground as served her to build Carthage upon.
476 f As the bold, &c.] AEneas, whom Virgil reports to use a golden bough for a pass to hell; and taylors call that place Hell where they put all they steal.
526 g As three, &c.] Read the great Geographical Dictionary, under that word.
520 h In Magick, &c.] Talisman is a device to destroy any sort of vermin, by casting their images in metal, in a precise minute, when the stars are perfectly inclined to do them all the mischief they can. This has been experienced by some modern Virtuosi upon rats, mice, and fleas, and found (as they affirm) to produce the effect with admirable success.
Raymund Lully interprets cabal, out of the Arabic, to signify Scientia superabundans; which his commentator, Cornelius Agrippa, by over-magnifying, has rendered a very superfluous foppery.
532 i As far as, &c.] The author of Magia Adamica endeavours to prove the learning of the ancient Magi to be derived from that knowledge which God himself taught Adam in Paradise before the fall.
535 And much of Terra Incognita,
The intelligible World cou’d
say.
The intelligible world is a kind of Terra Del Fuego,
or Psittacorum Regio[Land of Parrots], &c. discovered
only by the philosophers; of which they talk, like
parrots, what they do not understand.
538 k learned &c.] No nation in the world is more addicted to this occult philosophy than the Wild-Irish are, as appears by the whole practice of their lives; of which see Camden in his description of Ireland.
539 l Or Sir Agrippa, &c.] They who would know more of Sir Cornelius Agrippa, here meant, may consult the Great Dictionary.
541 m He Anthroposophus and Floud,
And Jacob
Behmen understood.
Anthroposophus is only a compound Greek word, which
signifies a man that is wise in the knowledge of men,
as is used by some anonymous author to conceal his
true name. Dr. Floud was a sort of an English
Rosy-crucian, whose works are extant, and as intelligible
as those of Jacob Behmen.
545 n In Rosy-crucian Lore as learned
As he that Vere
Adeptus earned.
The fraternity of the Rosy-crucians is very like the
sect of the ancient Gnostici, who called them selves
so from the excellent learning they pretended to,
although they were really the most ridiculous sots
of mankind. Vere Adeptus is one that has commenced
in their phanatick extravagance.
646 o Thou that with Ale or viler Liquors,
Didst inspire
Withers, Pryn, and Vicars.
This Vicars was a man of as great interest and authority
in the late Reformation as Pryn or Withers, and as
able a poet. He translated Virgil’s AEneids
into as horrible Travesty, in earnest, as the French
Scaroon did in burlesque, and was only outdone in
his way by the politic author of Oceana.
714 p We that are, &c.] This speech is set down as it was delivered by the Knight, in his own words: But since it is below the gravity of heroical poetry to admit of humour, but all men are obliged to speak wisely alike, and too much of so extravagant a folly would become tedious and impertinent, the rest of his harangues have only his sense expressed in other words, unless in some few places, where his own words could not be so well avoided.
753 q In bloody, &c.] Cynarctomachy signifies no thing in the world but a fight between dogs and bears; though both the learned and ignorant agree that in such words very great knowledge is contained: And our Knight, as one, or both, of these, was of the same opinion.
758 r Or Force, &c.] Averruncate: Another of the same kind, which, though it appear ever so learned and profound, means nothing else but the weeding of corn.
777 s The Indians fought for the Truth
Of th’ Elephant
and Monkey’s Tooth.
The History of the White Elephant and the Monkey’s-Tooth,
which the Indians adored, is written by Mons.
le Blanc. This monkey’s tooth was taken
by the Portuguese from those that worshipped it; and
though they offered a vast ransom for it, yet the
Christians were persuaded by their priests rather to
burn it. But as soon as the fire was kindled,
all the people present were not able to endure the
horrible stink that came from it, as if the fire had
been made of the same ingredients with which seamen
use to compose that kind of granados which they call
stinkards.
786 t The Rage, &c.] Boute-feus is a French word, and therefore it were uncivil to suppose any English person (especially of quality) ignorant of it, or so ill-bred as to need an exposition.
903 u ’Tis sung, &c.] Mamaluke is the name of the militia of the Sultans of Egypt. It signified a servant or soldier. They were commonly captives taken from amongst the Christians, and instructed in military discipline, and did not marry. Their power was great; for besides that the Sultans were chosen out of their body, they disposed of the most important offices of the kingdom. They were formidable about 200 years; ’till at last Selim, Sultan of the Turks, routed them, and killed their Sultan, near Aleppo, 1516, and so put an end to the empire of Mamalukes, which had lasted 267 years. No question but the rhime to Mamaluke was meant Sir Samuel Luke, of whom in the Preface.
913 w Honour is like, &c.] Our English proverbs are not impertinent to this purpose:
He that woos a Maid, must seldom come in her sight:
But he that woos a Widow, must woo her Day and Night.
He that woos a Maid, must feign, lye, and flatter:
But he that woos a Widow, must down with his Breeches,
and at her.
This proverb being somewhat immodest, Mr Ray says he would not have inserted it in his collection, but that he met with it in a little book, intitled, the Quakers’ Spiritual Court Proclaimed; written by Nathaniel Smith, Student in Physic; wherein the author mentions it as counsel given him by Hilkiah Bedford, an eminent Quaker in London, who would have had him to have married a rich widow, in whose house he lodged. In case he could get her, this Nathaniel Smith had promised Hilkiah a chamber gratis. The whole narrative is worth the reading.
CANTO II.
------------------------------------------------- The catalogue and character Of th’ enemies best men of war; Whom, in bold harangue, the Knight Defies, and challenges to fight. H’ encounters Talgol, routs the Bear, And takes the Fiddler prisoner, Conveys him to enchanted castle; There shuts him fast in wooden bastile. -------------------------------------------------
There was an ancient sage philosopher,
That had read Alexander Ross over,
And swore the world, as he cou’d prove,
Was made of fighting and of love:
Just so romances are; for what else
5
Is in them all, but love and battels?
O’ th’ first of these we’ve no great
matter
To treat of, but a world o’ th’ latter;
In which to do the injur’d right
We mean, in what concerns just fight.
10
Certes our authors are to blame,
For to make some well-sounding name
A pattern fit for modern Knights
To copy out in frays and fights;
Like those that a whole street do raze
15
To build a palace in the place.
They never care how many others
They kill, without regard of mothers,
Or wives, or children, so they can
Make up some fierce, dead-doing man,
20
Compos’d of many ingredient valors,
Just like the manhood of nine taylors.
So a Wild Tartar, when he spies
A man that’s handsome, valiant, wise,
If he can kill him, thinks t’ inherit
25
His wit, his beauty, and his spirit
As if just so much he enjoy’d
As in another is destroy’d
For when a giant’s slain in fight,
And mow’d o’erthwart, or cleft down right,
30
It is a heavy case, no doubt;
A man should have his brains beat out
Because he’s tall, and has large bones;
As men kill beavers for their stones.
But as for our part, we shall tell
35
The naked truth of what befel;
And as an equal friend to both
The Knight and Bear, but more to troth,
With neither faction shall take part,
But give to each his due desert;
40
And never coin a formal lie on’t,
To make the Knight o’ercome the giant.
This b’ing profest, we’ve hopes enough,
And now go on where we left off.
They rode; but authors having not
45
Determin’d whether pace or trot,
(That is to say, whether
As they do term’t, or succussation,)
We leave it, and go on, as now
Suppose they did, no matter how;
50
Yet some from subtle hints have got
Mysterious light, it was a trot:
But let that pass: they now begun
To spur their living-engines on.
For as whipp’d tops, and bandy’d balls,
55
Page 26
The learned hold, are animals;
So horses they affirm to be
Mere engines made by geometry;
And were invented first from engines,
As
So let them be; and, as I was saying,
They their live engines ply’d, not staying
Until they reach’d the fatal champain,
Which th’ enemy did then encamp on;
The
Was to be wag’d ’twixt puissant cattle
And fierce auxiliary men,
That came to aid their brethren,
Who now began to take the field,
As Knight from ridge of steed beheld.
70
For as our modern wits behold,
Mounted a pick-back on the old,
Much further oft; much further he,
Rais’d on his aged beast cou’d see;
Yet not sufficient to descry
75
All postures of the enemy;
Wherefore he bids the Squire ride further,
T’ observe their numbers, and their order;
That when their motions he had known
He might know how to fit his own.
80
Meanwhile he stopp’d his willing steed,
To fit himself for martial deed.
Both kinds of metal he prepar’d,
Either to give blows, or to ward:
Courage and steel, both of great force,
85
Prepar’d for better, or for worse.
His death-charg’d pistols he did fit well,
Drawn out from life-preserving vittle.
These being prim’d, with force he labour’d
To free’s sword from retentive scabbard
90
And, after many a painful pluck,
From rusty durance he bail’d tuck.
Then shook himself, to see that prowess
In scabbard of his arms sat loose;
And, rais’d upon his desp’rate foot,
95
On stirrup-side he gaz’d about,
Portending blood, like blazing star,
The beacon of approaching war.
Ralpho rode on with no less speed
Than Hugo in the forest did;
100
But far more in returning made;
For now the foe he had survey’d,
Rang’d as to him they did appear,
With van, main battle, wings, and rear.
I’ the head of all this warlike rabble,
105
Crowdero march’d, expert and able.
Instead of trumpet and of drum,
That makes the warrior’s stomach come,
Whose noise whets valour sharp, like beer
By thunder turn’d to vinegar,
110
(For if a trumpet sound, or drum beat,
Who has not a month’s mind to combat?)
A squeaking engine he apply’d
Unto his neck, on north-east side,
Just where the hangman does dispose,
115
To special friends, the knot of noose:
For ’tis great grace, when statesmen straight
Dispatch a friend, let others wait.
His warped ear hung o’er the strings,
Which was but souse to chitterlings:
120
Page 27
For guts, some write, e’er they are sodden,
Are fit for music, or for pudden;
From whence men borrow ev’ry kind
Of minstrelsy by string or wind.
His grisly beard was long and thick,
125
With which he strung his fiddle-stick;
For he to horse-tail scorn’d to owe,
For what on his own chin did grow.
Chiron, the four-legg’d bard, had both
A beard and tail of his own growth;
130
And yet by authors ’tis averr’d,
He made use only of his beard.
In Staffordshire, where virtuous worth
Does raise the minstrelsy, not birth;
Where bulls do chuse the boldest king,
135
And ruler, o’er the men of string;
(As once in Persia, ’tis said,
Kings were proclaim’d by a horse that neigh’d;)
He bravely venturing at a crown,
By chance of war was beaten down,
140
And wounded sore. His leg then broke,
Had got a deputy of oak:
For when a shin in fight is cropp’d,
The knee with one of timber’s propp’d,
Esteem’d more honourable than the other,
145
And takes place, though the younger brother.
Next march’d brave ORSIN, famous for
Wise conduct, and success in war:
A skilful leader, stout, severe,
Now marshal to the champion bear.
150
With truncheon, tipp’d with iron head,
The warrior to the lists he led;
With solemn march and stately pace,
But far more grave and solemn face;
Grave
Or Spanish potentate Don Diego.
This leader was of knowledge great,
Either for charge or for retreat.
He knew when to fall on pell-mell;
To fall back and retreat as well.
160
So lawyers, lest the bear defendant,
And plaintiff dog, should make an end on’t,
Do stave and tail with writs of error,
Reverse of judgment, and demurrer,
To let them breathe a while, and then
165
Cry whoop, and set them on agen.
As Romulus a wolf did rear,
So he was dry-nurs’d by a bear,
That fed him with the purchas’d prey
Of many a fierce and bloody fray;
170
Bred up, where discipline most rare is,
In military Garden Paris. <>
For soldiers heretofore did grow
In gardens, just as weeds do now,
Until some splay-foot politicians
175
T’APOLLO offer’d up petitions
For licensing a new invention
They’d found out of an antique engine,
To root out all the weeds that grow
In public gardens at a blow,
180
And leave th’ herbs standing. Quoth Sir
Sun,
My friends, that is not to be done.
Not done! quoth Statesmen; yes, an’t please
ye,
When it’s once known, you’ll say ’tis
easy.
Why then let’s know it, quoth Apollo.
Page 28
185
We’ll beat a drum, and they’ll all follow.
A drum! (quoth Phoebus;) troth, that’s
true;
A pretty invention, quaint and new.
But though of voice and instrument
We are the undoubted president,
190
We such loud music don’t profess:
The Devil’s master of that office,
Where it must pass, if’t be a drum;
He’ll sign it with Cler. Parl. Dom.
Com.
To him apply yourselves, and he
195
Will soon dispatch you for his fee.
They did so; but it prov’d so ill,
Th’ had better let ’em grow there still.
But to resume what we discoursing
Were on before, that is, stout ORSIN:
200
That which so oft, by sundry writers,
Has been applied t’ almost all fighters,
More justly may b’ ascrib’d to this
Than any other warrior, (viz.)
None ever acted both parts bolder,
205
Both of a chieftain and a soldier.
He was of great descent and high
For splendour and antiquity;
And from celestial origine
Deriv’d himself in a right line.
210
Not as the ancient heroes did,
Who, that their base-births might be hid,
(Knowing they were of doubtful gender,
And that they came in at a windore)
Made Jupiter himself and others
215
O’ th’ gods, gallants to their own mothers,
To get on them a race of champions,
(Of which old Homer first made Lampoons.)
ARCTOPHYLAX, in northern spheres
Was his undoubted ancestor:
220
From him his great forefathers came,
And in all ages bore his name.
Learned he was in med’c’nal lore;
For by his side a pouch he wore,
Replete with strange Hermetic powder,
225
That wounds nine miles point-blank wou’d solder;
By skilful chemist, with great cost,
Extracted from a rotten post;
But of a heav’nlier influence
Than that which mountebanks dispense;
230
Tho’ by Promethean fire made, <>
As they do quack that drive that trade.
For as when slovens do amiss
At others doors, by stool or piss,
The learned write, a red-hot spit
235
B’ing prudently apply’d to it,
Will convey mischief from the dung
Unto the part that did the wrong,
So this did healing; and as sure
As that did mischief this would cure.
240
Thus virtuous ORSIN was endu’d
With learning, conduct, fortitude,
Incomparable: and as the prince
Of poets, Homer sung long since
A skilful leech is better far
245
Than half an hundred men of war,
So he appear’d; and by his skill,
No less than dint of sword, cou’d kill
The gallant Bruin march’d next him,
With visage formidably grim,
250
And rugged as a Saracen,
Or Turk of Mahomet’s own kin;
Clad in a mantle della guerre
Of rough impenetrable fur;
And in his nose, like Indian King,
255
He wore, for ornament, a ring;
About his neck a threefold gorget.
As rough as trebled leathern target;
Armed, as heralds cant, and langued;
Or, as the vulgar say, sharp-fanged.
260
For as the teeth in beasts of prey
Are swords, with which they fight in fray;
So swords, in men of war, are teeth,
Which they do eat their vittle with.
He was by birth, some authors write,
265
A Russian; some, a Muscovite;
And ’mong the Cossacks had been bred; <>
Of whom we in diurnals read,
That serve to fill up pages here,
As with their bodies ditches there.
270
SCRIMANSKY was his cousin-german,
With whom he serv’d, and fed on vermin;
And when these fail’d, he’d suck his claws,
And quarter himself upon his paws.
And tho’ his countrymen, the Huns,<>
275
Did stew their meat between their bums
And th’ horses backs o’er which they straddle,
And ev’ry man eat up his saddle;
He was not half so nice as they,
But eat it raw when ’t came in’s way.
280
He had trac’d countries far and near,
More than le Blanc, the traveller;
Who writes, he spous’d in India,
Of noble house, a lady gay,
And got on her a race of worthies,
285
As stout as any upon earth is.
Full many a fight for him between
Talgol and ORSIN oft had been
Each striving to deserve the crown
Of a sav’d citizen; the one
290
To guard his bear; the other fought
To aid his dog; both made more stout
By sev’ral spurs of neighbourhood,
Church-fellow-membership, and blood
But Talgol, mortal foe to cows,
295
Never got aught of him but blows;
Blows, hard and heavy, such as he
Had lent, repaid with usury.
Yet Talgol was of courage stout,
And vanquish’d oft’ner than he fought:
300
Inur’d to labour, sweat and toil,
And like a champion shone with oil.
Right many a widow his keen blade,.
And many fatherless had made.
He many a boar and huge dun-cow
305
Did, like another Guy, o’erthrow;
But Guy with him in fight compar’d,
Had like the boar or dun-cow far’d
With greater troops of sheep h’ had fought
Than Ajax or bold Don Quixote:
310
And many a serpent of fell kind,
With wings before and stings behind,
Subdu’d: as poets say, long agone
Next these the brave Magnano came;
Magnano, great in martial fame.
Yet when with ORSIN he wag’d fight,
’Tis sung, he got but little by’t.
Yet he was fierce as forest boar,
335
Whose spoils upon his back he wore,
As thick as Ajax’ seven-fold shield,
Which o’er his brazen arms he held:
But brass was feeble to resist
The fury of his armed fist:
340
Nor cou’d the hardest ir’n hold out
Against his blows, but they wou’d through’t.
In magic he was deeply read
As he that made the brazen head;
Profoundly skill’d in the black art;
345
As English Merlin for his heart;
But far more skilful in the spheres
Than he was at the sieve and shears.
He cou’d transform himself in colour
As like the devil as a collier;
350
As like as hypocrites in show
Are to true saints, or crow to crow.
Of warlike engines he was author,
Devis’d for quick dispatch of slaughter:
The cannon, blunderbuss, and saker,
355
He was th’ inventor of, and maker:
The trumpet, and the kettle-drum,
Did both from his invention come.
He was the first that e’er did teach
To make, and how to stop, a breach.
360
A lance he bore with iron pike;
Th’ one half wou’d thrust, the other strike;
And when their forces he had join’d,
He scorn’d to turn his parts behind.
He TRULLA lov’d; TRULLA, more bright
365
Than burnish’d armour of her Knight:
A bold virago, stout and tall,
As
Thro’ perils both of wind and limb,
Thro’ thick and thin, she follow’d him,
370
In ev’ry adventure h’ undertook,
And never him or it forsook.
At breach of wall, or hedge surprize,
She shar’d i’ th’ hazard and the
prize:
At beating quarters up, or forage,
375
Behav’d herself with matchless courage;
And laid about in fight more busily
Than the
And though some criticks here cry shame,
And say our authors are to blame,
380
That (spite of all philosophers,
Who hold no females stout, but bears;
And heretofore did so abhor
That women should pretend to war,
’They wou’d not suffer the stoutest dame
385
To swear
Make feeble ladies, in their works,
To fight like termagants and Turks;
To lay their native arms aside,
Their modesty, and ride astride;
390
To run a-tilt at men, and wield
Their naked tools in open field;
As stout
And she that wou’d have been the mistress
Of
And rather took a country lass;
They say, ’tis false, without all sense,
But of pernicious consequence
To government, which they suppose
Can never be upheld in prose;
400
Strip nature naked to the skin,
You’ll find about her no such thing.
It may be so; yet what we tell
Of TRULLA that’s improbable,
Shall be depos’d by those who’ve seen’t,
405
Or, what’s as good, produc’d in print:
And if they will not take our word,
We’ll prove it true upon record.
The upright CERDON next advanc’t,
Of all his race the valiant’st:
410
CERDON the Great, renown’d in song,
Like HERC’LES, for repair of wrong:
He rais’d the low, and fortify’d
The weak against the strongest side:
Ill has he read, that never hit
415
On him in Muses’ deathless writ.
He had a weapon keen and fierce,
That through a bull-hide shield wou’d pierce,
And cut it in a thousand pieces,
420
Tho’ tougher than the Knight of Greece his,
With whom his black-thumb’d ancestor
Was comrade in the ten years war:
For when the restless Greeks sat down
So many years before Troy town,
425
And were renown’d, as Homer writes,
For well-soal’d boots no less than fights,
They ow’d that glory only to
His ancestor, that made them so.
Fast friend he was to reformation,
430
Until ’twas worn quite out of fashion.
Next rectifier of wry law,
And wou’d make three to cure one flaw.
Learned he was, and could take note,
Transcribe, collect, translate, and quote.
435
But preaching was his chiefest talent,
Or argument, in which b’ing valiant,
He us’d to lay about and stickle,
Like ram or bull, at conventicle:
For disputants, like rams and bulls,
440
Do fight with arms that spring from skulls.
Last Colon came, bold man of war,
Destin’d to blows by fatal star;
Right expert in command of horse;
But cruel, and without remorse.
445
That which of Centaur long ago
Was said, and has been wrested to
Some other knights, was true of this;
He and his horse were of a piece.
One spirit did inform them both;
450
The self-same vigour, fury, wroth:
Yet he was much the rougher part,
And always had a harder heart;
Although his horse had been of those
That fed on man’s flesh, as fame goes.
455
Strange food for horse! and yet, alas!
It may be true, for flesh is grass.
Sturdy he was, and no less able
Than Hercules to clean a stable;
As great a drover, and as great
460
A critic too, in hog or neat.
He ripp’d the womb up of his mother,
Dame Tellus, ’cause she wanted fother
And provender wherewith to feed
Himself, and his less cruel steed.
465
It was a question, whether he
Or’s horse were of a family
More worshipful: ’till antiquaries
(After th’ had almost por’d out their
eyes)
Did very learnedly decide
470
The business on the horse’s side;
And prov’d not only horse, but cows,
Nay, pigs, were of the elder house:
For beasts, when man was but a piece
Of earth himself, did th’ earth possess.
475
These worthies were the chief that led
The combatants, each in the head
Of his command, with arms and rage,
Ready and longing to engage.
The numerous rabble was drawn out
480
Of sev’ral counties round about,
From villages remote, and shires,
Of east and western hemispheres
From foreign parishes and regions,
Of different manners, speech, religions,
485
Came men and mastiffs; some to fight
For fame and honour, some for sight.
And now the field of death, the lists,
Were enter’d by antagonists,
And blood was ready to be broach’d,
490
When Hudibras in haste approach’d,
With Squire and weapons, to attack ’em:
But first thus from his horse bespake ’em:
What rage, O citizens! what fury
Doth you to these dire actions hurry?
495
What oestrum, what phrenetic mood,
Makes you thus lavish of your blood,
While the proud Vies your trophies boast
And unreveng’d walks — ghost?
What towns, what garrisons might you
500
With hazard of this blood subdue,
Which now y’are bent to throw away
In vain, untriumphable fray!
Shall SAINTS in civil bloodshed wallow
Of Saints, and let the CAUSE lie fallow?
505
The Cause for which we fought and swore
So boldly, shall we now give o’er?
Page 33
Then, because quarrels still are seen
With oaths and swearings to begin,
The SOLEMN LEAGUE and COVENANT
510
Will seem a mere God-dam-me rant;
And we, that took it, and have fought,
As lewd as drunkards that fall out.
For as we make war for the King
Against himself the self-same thing,
515
Some will not stick to swear we do
For God and for Religion too:
For if bear-baiting we allow,
What good can Reformation do?
The blood and treasure that’s laid out,
520
Is thrown away, and goes for nought.
Are these the fruits o’ th’ PROTESTATION,
The Prototype of Reformation,
Which all the Saints, and some, since Martyrs,
Wore
When ’twas
Six Members quarrel to espouse?
Did they for this draw down the rabble,
With zeal and noises formidable,
And make all cries about the town
530
Join throats to cry the Bishops down?
Who having round begirt the palace,
(As once a month they do the gallows,)
As members gave the sign about,
Set up their throats with hideous shout.
535
When tinkers bawl’d aloud to settle
Church discipline, for patching kettle:
No sow-gelder did blow his horn
To geld a cat, but cry’d, Reform.
The oyster-women lock’d their fish up,
540
And trudg’d away, to cry, No Bishop.
The mouse-trap men laid save-alls by,
And ’gainst Ev’l Counsellors did cry.
Botchers left old cloaths in the lurch,
And fell to turn and patch the Church.
545
Some cry’d the Covenant instead
Of pudding-pies and ginger-bread;
And some for brooms, old boots and shoes,
Bawl’d out to Purge the Commons House.
Instead of kitchen-stuff, some cry,
550
A Gospel-preaching Ministry;
And some, for old suits, coats, or cloak,
No Surplices nor Service-Book.
A strange harmonious inclination
Of all degrees to Reformation.
555
And is this all? Is this the end
To which these carr’ings on did tend?
Hath public faith, like a young heir,
For this ta’en up all sorts of ware,
And run int’ every tradesman’s book,
560
’Till both turn’d bankrupts, and are broke?
Did Saints for this bring in their plate,
And crowd as if they came too late?
For when they thought the Cause had need on’t,
Happy was he that could be rid on’t.
565
Did they coin piss-pots, bowls, and flaggons,
Int’ officers of horse and dragoons;
And into pikes and musquetteers
Stamp beakers, cups, and porringers!
A thimble, bodkin, and a spoon,
570
Did start up living men as soon
As in the furnace they were thrown,
Page 34
Just like the dragon’s teeth b’ing sown.
Then was the Cause of gold and plate,
The Brethren’s off’rings, consecrate,
575
Like th’ Hebrew calf, and down before it
The Saints fell prostrate, to adore it
So say the wicked — and will you
Make that
By running after dogs and bears?
580
Beasts more unclean than calves or steers.
Have pow’rful Preachers ply’d their tongues,
And laid themselves out and their lungs;
Us’d all means, both direct and sinister,
I’ th’ pow’r of Gospel-preaching
Minister? 585
Have they invented tones to win
The women, and make them draw in
The men, as Indians with a female
Tame elephant inveigle the male?
Have they told Prov’dence what it must do,
590
Whom to avoid, and whom to trust to?
Discover’d th’ enemy’s design,
And which way best to countermine?
Prescrib’d what ways it hath to work,
Or it will ne’er advance the Kirk?
595
Told it the news o’ th’ last express,
And after good or bad success,
Made prayers, not so like petitions,
As overtures and propositions,
(Such as the army did present
600
To their creator, th’ Parliament,)
In which they freely will confess
They will not, cannot acquiesce,
Unless the work be carry’d on
In the same way they have begun,
605
By setting Church and Common-weal
All on a flame, bright as their zeal,
On which the Saints were all a-gog,
And all this for a bear and dog?
The parliament drew up petitions
610
To itself, and sent them, like commissions,
To well-affected persons down,
In ev’ry city and great town,
With pow’r to levy horse and men,
Only to bring them back agen:
615
For this did many, many a mile,
Ride manfully in rank and file,
With papers in their hats, that show’d
As if they to the pillory rode.
Have all these courses, these efforts,
620
Been try’d by people of all sorts,
Velis & remis, omnibus nervis
And all t’advance the Cause’s service?
And shall all now be thrown, away
In petulant intestine fray?
625
Shall we that in the Cov’nant swore,
Each man of us to run before
Another, still in Reformation,
Give dogs and bears a dispensation?
How will Dissenting Brethren relish it?
630
What will malignants say? videlicet,
That each man Swore to do his best,
To damn and perjure all the rest!
And bid the Devil take the hin’most,
Which at this race is like to win most.
635
They’ll say our bus’ness, to reform
The Church and State, is but a worm;
For to subscribe, unsight, unseen,
Page 35
To an unknown Church-discipline,
What is it else, but before-hand
640
T’engage, and after understand?
For when we swore to carry on
The present Reformation,
According to the purest mode
Of Churches best reformed abroad,
645
What did we else, but make a vow
To do we know not what, nor how?
For no three of us will agree,
Where or what Churches these should be;
And is indeed
With theirs that swore et caeteras;
Or the
To fight to the last drop of blood.
These slanders will be thrown upon
The Cause and Work we carry on,
655
If we permit men to run headlong
T’ exorbitances fit for Bedlam
Rather than Gospel-walking times,
When slightest sins are greatest crimes.
But we the matter so shall handle,
660
As to remove that odious scandal.
In name of King and parliament,
I charge ye all; no more foment
This feud, but keep the peace between
Your brethren and your countrymen;
665
And to those places straight repair
Where your respective dwellings are.
But to that purpose first surrender
The FIDDLER, as the prime offender,
Th’ incendiary vile, that is chief
670
Author and engineer of mischief;
That makes division between friends,
For profane and malignant ends.
He, and that engine of vile noise,
On which illegally he plays,
675
Shall (dictum factum) both be brought
To condign punishment, as they ought.
This must be done; and I would fain see
Mortal so sturdy as to gain-say:
For then I’ll take another course,
680
And soon reduce you all by force.
This said, he clapp’d his hand on sword,
To shew he meant to keep his word.
But Talgol, who had long supprest
Inflamed wrath in glowing, breast,
685
Which now began to rage and burn as
Implacably as flame in furnace,
Thus answer’d him: — Thou vermin
wretched
As e’er in measled pork was hatched;
Thou tail of worship, that dost grow
690
On rump of justice as of cow;
How dar’st thou, with that sullen luggage
O’ th’ self, old ir’n, and other
baggage,
With which thy steed of bones and leather
Has broke his wind in halting hither;
695
How durst th’, I say, adventure thus
T’ oppose thy lumber against us?
Could thine impertinence find out
To work t’ employ itself about,
Where thou, secure from wooden blow,
700
Thy busy vanity might’st show?
Was no dispute a-foot between
The caterwauling Brethren?
No subtle question rais’d among
Was I for this entitled sir,
And girt with trusty sword and spur,
For fame and honor to wage battle,
Thus to be brav’d by foe to cattle?
745
Not all that pride that makes thee swell
As big as thou dost blown-up veal;
Nor all thy tricks and sleights to cheat,
And sell thy carrion for good meat;
Not all thy magic to repair
750
Decay’d old age in tough lean ware;
Make nat’ral appear thy work,
And stop the gangrene in stale pork;
Not all that force that makes thee proud,
Because by bullock ne’er withstood;
755
Though arm’d with all thy cleavers, knives,
And axes made to hew down lives,
Shall save or help thee to evade
The hand of Justice, or this blade,
Which I, her sword-bearer, do carry,
760
For civil deed and military.
Nor shall those words of venom base,
Which thou hast from their native place,
Thy stomach, pump’d to fling on me,
Go unreveng’d, though I am free:
765
Thou down the same throat shalt devour ’em,
Like tainted beef, and pay dear for ’em.
Nor shall it e’er be said, that wight
This said, with hasty rage he snatch’d
His gun-shot, that in holsters watch’d;
And bending cock, he levell’d full
Against th’ outside of TALGOL’S skull;
Vowing that he shou’d ne’er stir further,
780
Nor henceforth cow nor bullock murther.
But Pallas came in shape of rust,
And ’twixt the spring and hammerthrust
Her Gorgon shield, which made the cock
Stand stiff, as t’were transform’d to
stock. 785
Mean while fierce Talgol, gath’ring might,
With rugged truncheon charg’d the Knight;
But he with petronel upheav’d,
Instead of shield, the blow receiv’d.
The gun recoil’d, as well it might,
790
Not us’d to such a kind of fight,
And shrunk from its great master’s gripe,
Knock’d down and stunn’d by mortal stripe.
Then Hudibras, with furious haste,
Drew out his sword; yet not so fast,
795
But Talgol first, with hardy thwack,
Twice bruis’d his head, and twice his back.
But when his nut-brown sword was out,
With stomach huge he laid about,
Imprinting many a wound upon
800
His mortal foe, the truncheon.
The trusty cudgel did oppose
Itself against dead-doing blows,
To guard its leader from fell bane,
And then reveng’d itself again.
805
And though the sword (some understood)
In force had much the odds of wood,
’Twas nothing so; both sides were ballanc’t
So equal, none knew which was valiant’st:
For wood with Honour b’ing engag’d,
810
Is so implacably enrag’d,
Though iron hew and mangle sore,
Wood wounds and bruises Honour more.
And now both Knights were out of breath,
Tir’d in the hot pursuit of death;
815
While all the rest amaz’d stood still,
Expecting which should take or kill.
This Hudibras observ’d; and fretting
Conquest should be so long a getting,
He drew up all his force into
820
One body, and that into one blow.
But Talgol wisely avoided it
By cunning sleight; for had it hit,
The upper part of him the blow
Had slit as sure as that below.
825
Meanwhile th’ incomparable Colon,
To aid his friend, began to fall on.
Him Ralph encounter’d, and straight grew
A dismal combat ’twixt them two:
Th’ one arm’d with metal, th’ other
with wood; 830
This fit for bruise, and that for blood.
With many a stiff thwack, many a bang,
Hard crab-tree and old iron rang;
While none that saw them cou’d divine
To which side conquest would incline,
835
Until Magnano, who did envy
That two should with so many men vie,
By subtle stratagem of brain,
Perform’d what force could ne’er attain;
For he, by foul hap, having found
840
Where thistles grew on barren ground,
In haste he drew his weapon out,
And having cropp’d them from the root,
He clapp’d them underneath the tail
Of steed, with pricks as sharp as nail.
845
The angry beast did straight resent
The wrong done to his fundament;
Began to kick, and fling, and wince,
As if h’ had been beside his sense,
Striving to disengage from thistle,
850
That gall’d him sorely under his tail:
Instead of which, he threw the pack
Of Squire and baggage from his back;
And blund’ring still with smarting rump,
He gave the Knight’s steed such a thump
855
As made him reel. The Knight did stoop,
And sat on further side aslope.
This Talgol viewing, who had now
By sleight escap’d the fatal blow,
He rally’d, and again fell to’t;
860
For catching foe by nearer foot,
He lifted with such might and strength,
As would have hurl’d him thrice his length,
And dash’d his brains (if any) out:
But Mars, that still protects the stout,
865
In pudding-time came to his aid,
And under him the Bear convey’d;
The Bear, upon whose soft fur-gown
The Knight with all his weight fell down.
The friendly rug preserv’d the ground,
870
And headlong Knight, from bruise or wound;
Like feather-bed betwixt a wall
And heavy brunt of cannon-ball.
As Sancho on a blanket fell,
And had no hurt, our’s far’d as well
875
In body; though his mighty spirit,
B’ing heavy, did not so well bear it,
The Bear was in a greater fright,
Beat down and worsted by the Knight.
He roar’d, and rak’d, and flung about,
880
To shake off bondage from his snout.
His wrath inflam’d, boil’d o’er,
and from
His jaws of death he threw the foam:
Fury in stranger postures threw him,
And more than herald ever drew him.
885
He tore the earth which he had sav’d
From squelch of Knight, and storm’d and rav’d,
And vext the more because the harms
He felt were ’gainst the law of arms:
Crowdero only kept the field;
Not stirring from the place he held;
Though beaten down and wounded sore,
I’ th’ fiddle, and a leg that bore
915
One side of him; not that of bone,
But much it’s better, th’ wooden one.
He spying Hudibras lie strow’d
Upon the ground, like log of wood,
With fright of fall, supposed wound,
920
And loss of urine, in a swound,
In haste he snatch’d the wooden limb,
That hurt i’ the ankle lay by him,
And fitting it for sudden fight,
Straight drew it up t’ attack the Knight;
925
For getting up on stump and huckle,
He with the foe began to buckle;
Vowing to be reveng’d for breach
Of crowd and skin upon the wretch,
Sole author of all detriment
930
He and his fiddle underwent.
But Ralpho (who had now begun
T’ adventure resurrection
From heavy squelch, and had got up
Upon his legs, with sprained crup)
935
Looking about, beheld pernicion
Approaching Knight from fell musician.
He snatch’d his whinyard up, that fled
When he was falling off his steed,
(As rats do from a falling house,)
940
To hide itself from rage of blows;
And, wing’d with speed and fury, flew
To rescue Knight from black and blew;
Which, e’er he cou’d atchieve, his sconce
The leg encounter’d twice and once;
945
And now ’twas rais’d to smite agen,
When Ralpho thrust himself between.
He took the blow upon his arm,
To shield the Knight from further harm;
And, joining wrath with force, bestow’d
950
On th’ wooden member such a load,
That down it fell, and with it bore
Crowdero, whom it propp’d before.
To him the Squire right nimbly run,
This said, the high outrageous mettle
Of Knight began to cool and settle.
1105
He lik’d the Squire’s advice, and soon
Resolv’d to see the business done
And therefore charg’d him first to bind
CROWDERO’S hands on rump behind,
And to its former place and use,
1110
The wooden member to reduce
But force it take an oath before,
Ne’er to bear arms against him more.
Ralpho dispatch’d with speedy haste,
And having ty’d Crowdero fast,
1115
He gave Sir Knight the end of cord,
To lead the captive of his sword
In triumph, whilst the steeds he caught,
And them to further service brought.
The Squire in state rode on before,
1120
And on his nut-brown whinyard bore
The trophee-fiddle and the case,
Leaning on shoulder like a mace.
The Knight himself did after ride,
Leading Crowdero by his side;
1125
And tow’d him, if he lagg’d behind,
Like boat against the tide and wind.
Thus grave and solemn they march’d on,
Until quite thro’ the town th’ had gone;
At further end of which there stands
1130
An ancient castle, that commands
Th’ adjacent parts: in all the fabrick
You shall not see one stone nor a brick;
But all of wood; by pow’rful spell
Of magic made impregnable.
1135
There’s neither iron-bar nor gate,
Portcullis, chain, nor bolt, nor grate,
And yet men durance there abide,
In dungeon scarce three inches wide;
With roof so low, that under it
1140
They never stand, but lie or sit;
And yet so foul, that whoso is in,
Is to the middle-leg in prison;
In circle magical conflu’d,
With walls of subtile air and wind,
1145
Which none are able to break thorough,
Until they’re freed by head of borough.
Thither arriv’d, th’ advent’rous
Knight
And bold Squire from their steeds alight
At th’ outward wall, near which there stands
47 x That is to say, whether Tollulation,
As they do term’t,
or Succussation.
Tollulation and succussation are only Latin words
for ambling and trotting; though I believe both were
natural amongst the old Romans; since I never read
they made use of the trammel, or any other art, to
pace their horses.
60 y As Indian Britons, &c.] The American Indians call a great bird they have, with a white head, a penguin, which signifies the same thing in the British tongue: from whence (with other words of the same kind) some authors have endeavoured to prove, that the Americans are originally derived from the Britons.
65 z The dire, &c.] Pharsalia is a city of Thessaly, famous for the battle won by Julius Caesar against Pompey the Great, in the neighbouring plains, in the 607th year of Rome, of which read Lucan’s Pharsalia.
129 a Chiron, the &c.] Chiron, a Centaur, son to Saturn and Phillyris, living in the mountains, where, being much given to hunting, he became very knowing in the virtues of plants and one of the most famous physicians of his time. He imparted his skill to AEsculapius and was afterwards Apollo’s governor, until being wounded by Hercules, and desiring to die, Jupiter placed him in heaven, where he forms the sign of Sagittarius or the Archer.
133 b In Staffordshire, where virtuous Worth
Does raise the
Minstrelsy, not Birth, &c.
The whole history of this ancient ceremony you may
read at large in Dr. Plot’s History of Staffordshire,
under the town Tutbury.
155 c Grave as, &c.] For the history of Pegu, read Mandelsa and Olearius’s Travels.
172 In military, &c.] Paris Garden, in Southwark, took its name from the possessor.
231 Though by, &c.] Promethean fire. Prometheus was the son of Iapetus, and brother of Atlas, concerning whom the poets have feigned, that having first formed men of the earth and water, he stole fire from heaven to put life into them; and that having thereby displeased Jupiter, he commanded Vulcan to tie him to mount Caucasus with iron chains, and that a vulture should prey upon his liver continually: but the truth of the story is, that Prometheus was an astrologer, and constant in observing the stars upon that mountain; and, that, among other things, he found the art of making fire, either by the means of a flint, or by contracting the sun-beams in a glass. Bochart will have Magog, in the Scripture, to be the Prometheus of the Pagans.
He here and before sarcastically derides those who were great admirers of the sympathetic powder and weapon salve, which were in great repute in those days, and much promoted by the great Sir Kenelm Digby, who wrote a treatise ex professo [of his own knowledge] on that subject, and, I believe, thought what he wrote to be true, which since has been almost exploded out of the world.
267 And ’mong, &c.] Cossacks are a people that live near Poland. This name was given them for their extraordinary nimbleness; for cosa, or kosa, in the Polish tongue, signifies a goat. He that would know more of them, may read Le Laboreur and Thuldenus.
275 And tho’, &c.] This custom of the Huns is described by Ammianus Marcellinus, Hunni semicruda cujusvis Pecoris carne vescuntur, quasi inter femora sua & equorum terga subsertam, calefacient brevi. P. 686. [The Huns stoutheartedly eat half-raw meat, which is warned briefly by being hedl between their thighs and their hoeses’ backs.]
283 — — He spous’d in India,
Of noble House, a Lady gay.
The Story in Le Blanc, of a bear that married a king’s
daughter, is no more strange than many others, in
most travellers, that pass with allowance; for if
they should write nothing but what is possible, or
probable, they might appear to have lost their labour,
and observed nothing but what they might have done
as well at home.
343 In magic he was deeply read,
As he that made the Brazen-Head;
Profoundly skill’d in
the Black Art;
As English Merlin
for his Heart.
Roger Bacon and Merlin. See Collier’s Dictionary.
368 d As Joan, &c.] Two notorious women; the last was known here by the name of Moll Cutpurse.
378 e Than the Amazonian, &c.] Penthesile, Queen of the Amazons, succeeded Orythia. She carried succours to the Trojans, and after having given noble proofs of her bravery, was killed by Achilles. Pliny saith, it was she that invented the battle-ax. If any one desire to know more of the Amazons, let him read Mr. Sanson.
385 f They wou’d not suffer the stout’st
Dame
To swear by HERCULES’s
Name.
The old Romans had particular oaths for men and women
to swear by, and therefore Macrobius says, Viri per
Castorum non jurabant antiquitus, nec Mulieres per
Herculem; AEdepol autem juramentum erat tum mulieribus,
quam viris commune, &c. [Men did not swear by Castor
in ancient times, nor women by Hercules; however women
swore by AEdepol as much as men did.]
393 g As stout, &c.] Two formidable women at arms, in romances, that were cudgelled into love by their gallants.
395 h Of Gundibert &c.] Gundibert is a feigned name, made use of by Sir William d’ Avenant in his famous epic poem, so called; wherein you may find also that of his mistress. This poem was designed by the author to be an imitation of the English Drama: it being divided into five books, as the other is into five acts; the Cantos to be parallel of the scenes, with this difference, that this is delivered narratively, the other dialoguewise. It was ushered into the world by a large preface, written by Mr. Hobbes, and by the pens of two of our best poets, viz. Mr. Waller and Mr. Cowley, which one would have thought might have proved a sufficient defence and protection against snarling critics. Notwithstanding which, four eminent wits of that age (two of which were Sir John Denham and Mr. Donne) published several copies of verses to Sir William’s discredit, under this title, Certain Verses written by several of the Author’s Friends, to be reprinted with the second Edition of Gundibert in 8vo. Lond. 1653. These verses were as wittily answered by the author, under this title, The incomparable Poem of Gundibert vindicated from the Wit Combat of four Esquires, Clinias, Damoetas, Sancho, and Jack-Pudding; printed in 8vo. Lond. 1665, Vide Langbain’s Account of Dramatic Poets.
496 i What OEstrum, &c.] OEstrum is not only a Greek word for madness, but signifies also a gad-bee or horse-fly, that torments cattle in the summer, and makes them run about as if they were mad.
525 k Wore in their Hats, &c.] Some few days after the King had accus’d the five Members of Treason in the House of Commons, great Crowds of the rabble came down to Westminster-Hall, with printed copies of the Protestation tied in their hats like favours.
526 l When ’twas resolv’d by either House
Six Members Quarrel
to espouse.
The six Members were the Lord Kimbolton, Mr. Pym,
Mr. Hollis, Mr. Hampden, Sir Arthur Haslerig, and
Mr. Stroud, whom the King ordered to be apprehended,
and their papers seized; charging them of plotting
with the Scots, and favouring the late tumults; but
the House voted against the arrest of their persons
or papers; whereupon the King having preferred articles
against those Members, he went with his guard to the
House to demand them; but they, having notice, withdrew.
578 m Make that, &c.] Abusive or insulting had been better; but our Knight believed the learned language more convenient to understand in than his own Mother-tongue.
650 n And is indeed the self same Case
With theirs that
swore t’ Et caeteras.
The Convocation, in one of the short Parliaments,
that ushered in the long one, (as dwarfs are wont
to do knights-errant,) made an oath to be taken by
the clergy for observing canonical obedience; in which
they enjoined their brethren, out of the abundance
of their consciences, to swear to articles with, &c.
652 o Or the French League, in which men vow’d
To fight to the
last Drop of Blood.
The Holy League in France, designed and made for the
extirpation of the Protestant Religion, was the original
out of which the Solemn League and Covenant here was
(with the difference only of circumstances) most faithfully
transcribed. Nor did the success of both differ
more than the intent and purpose; for after the destruction
of vast numbers of people of all sorts, both ended
with the murder of two Kings, whom they had both sworn
to defend: And as our Covenanters swore every
man to run one before another in the way of Reformation,
so did the French, in the Holy League, to fight to
the last drop of blood.
CANTO III.
------------------------------------------------- The scatter’d rout return and rally, Surround the place; the Knight does sally, And is made pris’ner: Then they seize Th’ inchanted fort by storm; release Crowdero, and put the Squire in’s place; I should have first said Hudibras. -------------------------------------------------
Ah me! what perils do environ
The man that meddles with cold iron!
What plaguy mischiefs and mishaps
Do dog him still with after-claps!
For though dame Fortune seem to smile
5
And leer upon him for a while,
She’ll after shew him, in the nick
Of all his glories, a dog-trick.
This any man may sing or say,
I’ th’ ditty call’d, What if a Day?
10
For Hudibras, who thought h’ had won
The field, as certain as a gun;
And having routed the whole troop,
With victory was cock a-hoop;
Thinking h’ had done enough to purchase
15
Thanksgiving-day among the Churches,
Wherein his mettle, and brave worth,
Might be explain’d by Holder-forth,
And register’d, by fame eternal,
In deathless pages of diurnal;
20
Found in few minutes, to his cost,
He did but count without his host;
And that a turn-stile is more certain
Than, in events of war, dame Fortune.
For now the late faint-hearted rout,
25
O’erthrown, and scatter’d round about,
Chas’d by the horror of their fear
From bloody fray of Knight and Bear,
(All but the dogs, who, in pursuit
Of the Knight’s victory, stood to’t,
30
But all, alas! had been in vain,
And he inevitably slain,
If TRULLA and CERDON, in the nick,
To rescue him had not been quick;
100
For TRULLA, who was light of foot
As shafts which long-field Parthians shoot,
(But not so light as to be borne
Upon the ears of standing corn,
Or trip it o’er the water quicker
105
Than witches, when their staves they liquor,
As some report,) was got among
The foremost of the martial throng;
There pitying the vanquish’d Bear,
She call’d to CERDON, who stood near,
110
Viewing the bloody fight; to whom,
Shall we (quoth she) stand still hum-drum,
And see stout Bruin all alone,
By numbers basely overthrown?
Such feats already h’ has atchiev’d,
115
In story not to be believ’d;
And ’twould to us be shame enough,
Not to attempt to fetch him off.
I would (quoth he) venture a limb
To second thee, and rescue him:
120
But then we must about it straight,
Or else our aid will come too late.
Quarter he scorns, he is so stout,
And therefore cannot long hold out.
This said, they wav’d their weapons round
125
About their heads, to clear the ground;
And joining forces, laid about
So fiercely, that th’ amazed rout
Turn’d tale again, and straight begun,
As if the Devil drove, to run.
130
Meanwhile th’ approach’d th’ place
where Bruin
Was now engag’d to mortal ruin.
The conqu’ring foe they soon assail’d;
First TRULLA
stav’d, and CERDON tail’d,
Until their mastives loos’d their hold:
135
And yet, alas! do what they could,
The worsted Bear came off with store
Of bloody wounds, but all before:
For as Achilles, dipt in pond,
Was ANABAPTIZ’D free from wound,
140
Made proof against dead-doing steel
All over, but the Pagan heel;
So did our champion’s arms defend
All of him, but the other end,
His head and ears, which, in the martial
145
Encounter, lost a leathern parcel
For as an Austrian Archduke once
Had one ear (which in ducatoons
Is half the coin) in battle par’d
Close to his head, so Bruin far’d;
150
But tugg’d and pull’d on th’ other
side,
Like scriv’ner newly crucify’d;
Or like the late corrected leathern
Ears of the Circumcised Brethren.
But gentle TRULLA into th’ ring
155
He wore in’s nose convey’d a string,
With which she march’d before, and led
The warrior to a grassy bed,
As authors write, in a cool shade,
Which eglantine and roses made;
160
Close by a softly murm’ring stream,
Where lovers us’d to loll and dream.
Page 49
There leaving him to his repose,
Secured from pursuit of foes,
And wanting nothing but a song,
165
And a well-tun’d theorbo hung
Upon a bough, to ease the pain
His tugg’d ears suffer’d, with a strain,
They both drew up, to march in quest
Of his great leader and the rest.
170
For ORSIN (who was more renown’d
For stout maintaining of his ground
In standing fight, than for pursuit,
As being not so quick of foot)
Was not long able to keep pace
175
With others that pursu’d the chace;
But found himself left far behind,
Both out of heart and out of wind:
Griev’d to behold his Bear pursu’d
So basely by a multitude;
180
And like to fall, not by the prowess,
But numbers of his coward foes.
He rag’d, and kept as heavy a coil as
Stout Hercules for loss of Hylas;
Forcing the vallies to repeat
185
The accents of his sad regret.
He beat his breast, and tore his hair,
For loss of his dear Crony Bear;
That Eccho, from the hollow ground,
His doleful wailings did resound
190
More wistfully, by many times,
Than in small poets splay-foot rhimes
That make her, in their rueful stories
To answer to int’rogatories,
And most unconscionably depose
195
To things of which she nothing knows;
And when she has said all she can say,
’Tis wrested to the lover’s fancy.
Quoth he, O whither, wicked Bruin
Art thou fled to my — Eccho, Ruin?
200
I thought th’ hadst scorn’d to budge a
step
For fear. (Quoth Eccho) Marry guep.
Am not I here to take thy part?
Then what has quelled thy stubborn heart?
Have these bones rattled, and this head
205
So often in thy quarrel bled?
Nor did I ever winch or grudge it,
For thy dear sake. (Quoth she) Mum budget
Think’st thou ‘twill not be laid i’
th’ dish
Thou turn’dst thy back? Quoth Eccho, Fish.
210
To run from those t’hast overcome
Thus cowardly? Quoth Eccho, Mum.
But what a vengeance makes thee fly
From me too, as thine enemy?
Or if thou hast no thought of me,
215
Nor what I have endur’d for thee,
Yet shame and honour might prevail
To keep thee thus from turning tail:
For who would grudge to spend his blood in
His honour’s cause? Quoth she, A puddin.
220
This said, his grief to anger turn’d,
Which in his manly stomach burn’d;
Thirst of revenge, and wrath, in place
Of sorrow, now began to blaze.
He vow’d the authors of his woe
225
Should equal vengeance undergo;
And with their bones and flesh pay dear
But scarce had he a furlong on
This resolute adventure gone,
When he encounter’d with that crew
Whom Hudibras did late subdue.
240
Honour, revenge, contempt, and shame,
Did equally their breasts inflame.
’Mong these the fierce Magnano was,
And Talgol, foe to Hudibras;
CERDON and Colon, warriors stout,
245
As resolute, as ever fought;
Whom furious ORSIN thus bespoke:
Shall we (quoth be) thus basely brook
The vile affront that paltry ass,
And feeble scoundrel, Hudibras,
250
With that more paltry ragamuffin,
Ralpho, with vapouring and huffing,
Have put upon us like tame cattle,
As if th’ had routed us in battle?
For my part, it shall ne’er be said,
255
I for the washing gave my bead:
Nor did I turn my back for fear
O’ th’ rascals, but loss of my Bear,
Which now I’m like to undergo;
For whether those fell wounds, or no
260
He has receiv’d in fight, are mortal,
Is more than all my skill can foretell
Nor do I know what is become
Of him, more than the Pope of Rome.
But if I can but find them out
265
That caus’d it (as I shall, no doubt,
Where-e’er th’ in hugger-mugger lurk)
I’ll make them rue their handy-work;
And wish that they had rather dar’d
To pull the Devil by the beard.
270
Quoth CERD0N, Noble ORSIN, th’ hast
Great reason to do as thou say’st,
And so has ev’ry body here,
As well as thou hast, or thy Bear.
Others may do as they see good;
275
But if this twig be made of wood
That will hold tack, I’ll make the fur
Fly ’bout the ears of that old cur;
And the other mungrel vermin, Ralph,
That brav’d us all in his behalf.
280
Thy Bear is safe, and out of peril,
Though lugg’d indeed, and wounded very ill;
Myself and TRULLA made a shift
To help him out at a dead lift;
And, having brought him bravely off,
285
Have left him where he’s safe enough:
There let him rest; for if we stay,
The slaves may hap to get away.
This said, they all engag’d to join
Their forces in the same design;
290
And forthwith put themselves in search
Of Hudibras upon their march.
Where leave we awhile, to tell
What the victorious knight befel.
For such, Crowdero being fast
295
In dungeon shut, we left him last.
Triumphant laurels seem’d to grow
No where so green as on his brow;
Laden with which, as well as tir’d
With conquering toil, he now retir’d
300
Unto a neighb’ring castle by,
To rest his body, and apply
Fit med’cines to each glorious bruise
He got in fight, reds, blacks, and blues,
To mollify th’ uneasy pang
305
Of ev’ry honourable bang,
Which b’ing by skilful midwife drest,
He laid him down to take his rest.
But all in vain. H’ had got a hurt
O’ th’ inside, of a deadlier sort,
310
By Cupid made, who took his stand
Upon a Widow’s jointure land,
(For he, in all his am’rous battels,
No ’dvantage finds like goods and chattels,)
Drew home his bow, and, aiming right,
315
Let fly an arrow at the Knight:
The shaft against a rib did glance,
And gall’d him in the purtenance.
But time had somewhat ’swag’d his pain,
After he found his suit in vain.
320
For that proud dame, for whom his soul
Was burnt in’s belly like a coal,
(That belly which so oft did ake
And suffer griping for her sake,
Till purging comfits and ants-eggs
325
Had almost brought him off his legs,)
Us’d him so like a base rascallion,
That
That cut his mistress out of stone,
Had not so hard a-hearted one.
330
She had a thousand jadish tricks,
Worse than a mule that flings and kicks;
’Mong which one cross-grain’d freak she
had,
As insolent as strange and mad;
She could love none, but only such
335
As scorn’d and hated her as much.
’Twas a strange riddle of a lady:
Not love, if any lov’d her! Hey dey!
So cowards never use their might,
But against such as will not fight;
340
So some diseases have been found
Only to seize upon the sound.
He that gets her by heart, must say her
The back way, like a witch’s prayer.
Mean while the Knight had no small task
345
To compass what he durst not ask.
He loves, but dares not make the motion;
Her ignorance is his devotion:
Like caitiff vile, that, for misdeed,
Rides with his face to rump of steed,
350
Or rowing scull, he’s fain to love,
Look one way, and another move;
Or like a tumbler, that does play
Page 52
His game, and look another way,
Until he seize upon the cony;
355
Just so he does by matrimony:
But all in vain; her subtle snout
Did quickly wind his meaning out;
Which she return’d with too much scorn
To be by man of honour borne:
360
Yet much he bore, until the distress
He suffer’d from his spightful mistress
Did stir his stomach; and the pain
He had endur’d from her disdain,
Turn’d to regret so resolute,
365
That he resolv’d to wave his suit,
And either to renounce her quite,
Or for a while play least in sight.
This resolution b’ing put on,
He kept some months, and more had done;
370
But being brought so nigh by Fate,
The victory he atchiev’d so late
Did set his thoughts agog, and ope
A door to discontinu’d hope,
That seem’d to promise he might win
375
His dame too, now his hand was in;
And that his valour, and the honour
H’ had newly gain’d, might work upon her.
These reasons made his mouth to water
With am’rous longings to be at her.
380
Quoth he, unto himself, Who knows,
But this brave conquest o’er my foes
May reach her heart, and make that stoop,
As I but now have forc’d the troop?
If nothing can oppugn love,
385
And virtue invious ways can prove,
What may he not confide to do
That brings both love and virtue too?
But thou bring’st valour too and wit;
Two things that seldom fail to hit.
390
Valour’s a mouse-trap, wit a gin,
Which women oft are taken in.
Then, Hudibras, why should’st thou fear
To be, that art a conqueror?
Fortune th’ audacious doth juvare,
395
But lets the timidous miscarry.
Then while the honour thou hast got
Is spick and span new, piping hot,
Strike her up bravely, thou hadst best,
And trust thy fortune with the rest.
400
Such thoughts as these the Knight did keep,
More than his bangs or fleas, from sleep.
And as an owl, that in a barn
Sees a mouse creeping in the corn,
Sits still, and shuts his round blue eyes,
405
As if he slept, until he spies
The little beast within his reach,
Then starts, and seizes on the wretch;
So from his couch the Knight did start
To seize upon the widow’s heart;
410
Crying with hasty tone, and hoarse,
Ralpho, dispatch; To Horse, To Horse.
And ’twas but time; for now the rout,
We left engag’d to seek him out,
By speedy marches, were advanc’d
415
Up to the fort, where he ensconc’d;
And all th’ avenues had possest
About the place, from east to west.
That done, a while they made a halt,
To view the ground, and where t’ assault:
420
Then call’d a council, which was best,
By siege or onslaught, to invest
The enemy; and ’twas agreed,
By storm and onslaught to proceed.
This b’ing resolv’d, in comely sort
425
They now drew up t’ attack the fort;
When Hudibras, about to enter
Upon another-gates adventure,
To Ralpho call’d aloud to arm,
Not dreaming of approaching storm.
430
Whether Dame Fortune, or the care
Of Angel bad or tutelar,
Did arm, or thrust him on a danger
To which he was an utter stranger;
That foresight might, or might not, blot
435
The glory he had newly got;
For to his shame it might be said,
They took him napping in his bed;
To them we leave it to expound,
That deal in sciences profound.
440
His courser scarce he had bestrid,
And Ralpho that on which he rid,
When setting ope the postern gate,
Which they thought best to sally at,
The foe appear’d, drawn up and drill’d,
445
Ready to charge them in the field.
This somewhat startled the bold Knight,
Surpriz’d with th’ unexpected sight.
The bruises of his bones and flesh
The thought began to smart afresh;
450
Till recollecting wonted courage,
His fear was soon converted to rage,
And thus he spoke: The coward foe,
Whom we but now gave quarter to,
Look, yonder’s rally’d, and appears
455
As if they had out-run their fears.
The glory we did lately get,
The Fates command us to repeat;
And to their wills we must succumb,
Quocunque trahunt, ’tis our doom.
460
This is the same numeric crew
Which we so lately did subdue;
The self-same individuals that
Did run as mice do from a cat,
When we courageously did wield
465
Our martial weapons in the field
To tug for victory; and when
We shall our shining blades agen
Brandish in terror o’er our heads,
They’ll straight resume their wonted dreads.
470
Fear is an ague, that forsakes
And haunts by fits those whom it takes:
And they’ll opine they feel the pain
And blows they felt to-day again.
Then let us boldly charge them home,
475
And make no doubt to overcome.
This said, his courage to inflame,
He call’d upon his mistress’ name.
His pistol next he cock’d a-new,
And out his nut-brown whinyard drew;
480
And, placing Ralpho in the front,
Reserv’d himself to bear the brunt,
As expert warriors use: then ply’d
With iron heel his courser’s side,
Conveying sympathetic speed
485
From heel of Knight to heel of Steed.
Mean while the foe, with equal rage
And speed, advancing to engage,
Both parties now were drawn so close,
Almost to come to handy-blows;
490
When ORSIN first let fly a stone
At Ralpho: not so huge a one
As that which DIOMED did maul
Aeneas on the bum withal
Yet big enough if rightly hurl’d,
495
T’ have sent him to another world,
Whether above-ground, or below,
Which Saints Twice Dipt are destin’d to.
The danger startled the bold Squire,
And made him some few steps retire.
500
But Hudibras advanc’d to’s aid,
And rouz’d his spirits, half dismay’d.
He wisely doubting lest the shot
Of th’ enemy, now growing hot,
Might at a distance gall, press’d close,
505
To come pell-mell to handy-blows,
And, that he might their aim decline,
Advanc’d still in an oblique line;
But prudently forbore to fire,
Till breast to breast he had got nigher,
510
As expert warriors use to do
When hand to hand they charge their foe.
This order the advent’rous Knight,
Most soldier-like, observ’d in fight,
When fortune (as she’s wont) turn’d fickle,
515
And for the foe began to stickle.
The more shame for her Goody-ship,
To give so near a friend the slip.
For Colon, choosing out a stone,
Levell’d so right, it thump’d upon
520
His manly paunch with such a force,
As almost beat him off his horse.
He lost his whinyard, and the rein;
But, laying fast hold of the mane,
Preserv’d his seat; and as a goose
525
In death contracts his talons close,
So did the Knight, and with one claw
The trigger of his pistol draw.
The gun went off: and as it was
Still fatal to stout Hudibras,
530
In all his feats of arms, when least
He dreamt of it, to prosper best,
So now he far’d: the shot, let fly
At random ’mong the enemy,
Pierc’d TALGOL’s gaberdine, and grazing
535
Upon his shoulder, in the passing,
Lodg’d in MAGNANO’s brass habergeon,
Who straight, A Surgeon, cry’d, A Surgeon.
He tumbled down, and, as he fell,
Did Murther, Murther, Murther, yell.
540
This startled their whole body so,
That if the Knight had not let go
His arms, but been in warlike plight,
H’ had won (the second time) the fight;
As, if the Squire had but fall’n on,
545
He had inevitably done:
But he, diverted with the care
Or Hudibras his hurt, forbare
To press th’ advantage of his fortune
While danger did the rest dishearten:
550
For he with CERDON b’ing engag’d
In close encounter, they both wag’d
Quoth RALIHO, Courage, valiant Sir,
565
And let revenge and honour stir
Your spirits up: once we fall on,
The shatter’d foe begins to run:
For if but half so well you knew
To use your victory as subdue,
570
They durst not, after such a blow
As you have given them, face us now;
But from so formidable a soldier
Had fled like crows when they smell powder.
Thrice have they seen your sword aloft
575
Wav’d o’er their heads, and fled as oft.
But if you let them recollect
Their spirits, now dismay’d and checkt,
You’ll have a harder game to play
Than yet y’ have had to get the day.
580
Thus spoke the stout Squire; but was heard
By Hudibras with small regard.
His thoughts were fuller of the bang
Be lately took than Ralph’s harangue;
To which he answer’d, Cruel Fate
585
Tells me thy counsel comes too late.
The knotted blood within my hose,
That from my wounded body flows,
With mortal crisis doth portend
My days to appropinque an end.
590
I am for action now unfit,
Either of fortitude or wit:
Fortune, my foe, begins to frown,
Resolv’d to pull my stomach down.
I am not apt, upon a wound,
595
Or trivial basting, to despond:
Yet I’d be loth my days to curtail:
For if I thought my wounds not mortal,
Or that we’d time enough as yet,
To make an hon’rable retreat,
600
’Twere the best course: but if they find
We fly, and leave our arms behind
For them to seize on, the dishonour,
And danger too, is such, I’ll sooner
Stand to it boldly, and take quarter,
605
To let them see I am no starter.
In all the trade of war, no feat
Is nobler than a brave retreat:
For those that run away, and fly,
Take place at least of th’ enemy.
610
This said, the Squire, with active speed
Dismounted from his bonny steed,
To seize the arms, which, by mischance,
Fell from the bold Knight in a trance.
These being found out, and restor’d
615
To Hudibras their natural lord,
As a man may say, with might and main,
This said, like to a thunderbolt,
He flew with fury to th’ assault,
640
Striving the enemy to attack
Before he reach’d his horse’s back.
Ralpho was mounted now, and gotten
O’erthwart his beast with active vau’ting,
Wrigling his body to recover
645
His seat, and cast his right leg over,
When ORSIN, rushing in, bestow’d
On horse and man so heavy a load,
The beast was startled, and begun
To kick and fling like mad, and run,
650
Bearing the tough Squire like a sack,
Or stout king Richard, on his back,
’Till stumbling, he threw him down,
Sore bruis’d, and cast into a swoon.
Meanwhile the Knight began to rouze
655
The sparkles of his wonted prowess.
He thrust his hand into his hose,
And found, both by his eyes and nose,
’Twas only choler, and not blood,
That from his wounded body flow’d.
660
This, with the hazard of the Squire,
Inflam’d him with despightful ire.
Courageously he fac’d about.
And drew his other pistol out,
And now had half way bent the cock,
665
When CERDON gave so fierce a shock,
With sturdy truncheon, thwart his arm,
That down it fell, and did no harm;
Then stoutly pressing on with speed,
Assay’d to pull him off his steed.
670
The Knight his sword had only left,
With which he CERDON’S head had cleft,
Or at the least cropt off a limb,
But ORSIN came, and rescu’d him.
He, with his lance, attack’d the Knight
675
Upon his quarters opposite.
But as a barque, that in foul weather,
Toss’d by two adverse winds together,
Is bruis’d, and beaten to and fro,
And knows not which to turn him to;
680
So far’d the Knight between two foes,
And knew not which of them t’oppose;
Till ORSIN, charging with his lance
Quoth he (and call’d him by his name,)
Courage! the day at length is ours;
725
And we once more, as conquerors,
Have both the field and honour won:
The foe is profligate, and run.
I mean all such as can; for some
This hand hath sent to their long home;
730
And some lie sprawling on the ground,
With many a gash and bloody wound.
Caesar himself could never say
He got two victories in a day,
As I have done, that can say, Twice I
735
In one day, Veni, Vidi, Vici.
The foe’s so numerous, that we
Cannot so often vincere
As they perire, and yet enow
Be left to strike an after-blow;
740
Then, lest they rally, and once more
Put us to fight the bus’ness o’er,
Get up, and mount thy steed: Dispatch,
And let us both their motions watch.
Quoth Ralph, I should not, if I were
745
In case for action, now be here:
Nor have I turn’d my back, or hang’d
An arse, for fear of being bang’d.
It was for you I got these harms,
Advent’ring to fetch off your arms.
750
The blows and drubs I have receiv’d
Have bruis’d my body, and bereav’d
My limbs of strength. Unless you stoop,
And reach your hand to pull me up,
I shall lie here, and be a prey
755
To those who now are run away.
That thou shalt not, (quoth Hudibras;)
We read, the ancients held it was
More honourable far, servare
Civem, than slay an adversary:
760
The one we oft to-day have done,
The other shall dispatch anon:
And though th’ art of a diff’rent Church
I will not leave thee in the lurch.
This said, he jogg’d his good steed nigher,
765
And steer’d him gently toward the Squire;
Then bowing down his body, stretch’d
His hand out, and at Ralpho reach’d;
When TRULLA, whom he did not mind,
Charg’d him like lightening behind.
770
She had been long in search about
MAGNANO’S wound, to find it out;
But could find none, nor where the shot,
That had so startled him, was got
But having found the worst was past,
775
She fell to her own work at last,
The pillage of the prisoners,
Which in all feats of arms was hers;
And now to plunder Ralph she flew,
When Hudibras his hard fate drew
780
To succour him; for, as he bow’d
To help him up, she laid a load
Of blows so heavy, and plac’d so well,
On t’other side, that down he fell.
Yield, scoundrel base, (quoth she,) or die:
785
Thy life is mine and liberty:
But if thou think’st I took thee tardy,
And dar’st presume to be so hardy,
To try thy fortune o’er a-fresh,
I’ll wave my title to thy flesh,
790
Thy arms and baggage, now my right;
And if thou hast the heart to try’t,
I’ll lend thee back thyself a while,
And once more, for that carcass vile,
Fight upon tick. — Quoth Hudibras,
795
Thou offer’st nobly, valiant lass,
And I shall take thee at thy word.
First let me rise and take my sword.
That sword which has so oft this day
Through squadrons of my foes made way,
800
And some to other worlds dispatch’d,
Now with a feeble spinster match’d,
Will blush with blood ignoble stain’d,
By which no honour’s to be gain’d.
But if thou’lt take m’ advice in this,
805
Consider whilst thou may’st, what ’tis
To interrupt a victor’s course,
B’ opposing such a trivial force:
For if with conquest I come off,
This said, she to her tackle fell,
And on the Knight let fall a peal
Of blows so fierce, and press’d so home,
825
That he retir’d, and follow’d’s
bum.
Stand to’t (quoth she) or yield to mercy
It is not fighting arsie-versie
Shall serve thy turn. — This stirr’d
his spleen
More than the danger he was in,
830
The blows he felt, or was to feel,
Although th’ already made him reel.
Honour, despight; revenge and shame,
At once into his stomach came,
Which fir’d it so, he rais’d his arm
835
Above his head, and rain’d a storm
Of blows so terrible and thick,
As if he meant to hash her quick.
But she upon her truncheon took them,
And by oblique diversion broke them,
840
Waiting an opportunity
To pay all back with usury;
Which long she fail’d not of; for now
The Knight with one dead-doing blow
Resolving to decide the fight,
845
And she, with quick and cunning slight,
Avoiding it, the force and weight
He charged upon it was so great,
As almost sway’d him to the ground.
No sooner she th’ advantage found,
850
But in she flew; and seconding
With home-made thrust the heavy swing,
She laid him flat upon his side;
And mounting on his trunk a-stride,
Quoth she, I told thee what would come
855
Of all thy vapouring, base scum.
Say, will the law of arms allow
I may have grace and quarter now?
Or wilt thou rather break thy word,
And stain thine honour than thy sword?
860
A man of war to damn his soul,
In basely breaking his parole
And when, before the fight, th’ had’st
vow’d
To give no quarter in cold blood
Now thou hast got me for a Tartar,
865
To make me ’gainst my will take quarter;
Why dost not put me to the sword,
But cowardly fly from thy word?
Quoth Hudibras, The day’s thine own:
Thou and thy Stars have cast me down:
870
My laurels are transplanted now,
And flourish on thy conqu’ring brow:
My loss of honour’s great enough,
Thou need’st not brand it with a scoff:
Sarcasms may eclipse thine own,
Quoth she, Although thou hast deserv’d
885
Base slubberdegullion, to be serv’d
As thou did’st vow to deal with me,
If thou had’st got the victory
Yet I shall rather act a part
That suits my fame than thy desert.
890
Thy arms, thy liberty, beside
All that’s on th’ outside of thy hide,
Are mine by military law,
Of which I will not hate one straw:
The rest, thy life and limbs, once more,
895
Though doubly forfeit, I restore,
Quoth Hudibras, It is too late
For me to treat or stipulate
What thou command’st, I must obey:
Yet those whom I expugn’d to-day
900
Of thine own party, I let go,
And gave them life and freedom too:
Both dogs and bear, upon their parole,
Whom I took pris’ners in this quarrel.
Quoth TRULLA, Whether thou or they
905
Let one another run away,
Concerns not me; but was’t not thou
That gave Crowdero quarter too?
Crowdero, whom, in irons bound,
Thou basely threw’st into LOB’S Pound,
910
Where still he lies, and with regret
His gen’rous bowels rage and fret.
But now thy carcass shall redeem,
And serve to be exchang’d for him.
This said, the Knight did straight submit,
915
And laid his weapons at her feet.
Next he disrob’d his gaberdine,
And with it did himself resign.
She took it, and forthwith divesting
The mantle that she wore, said jesting,
920
Take that, and wear it for my sake
Then threw it o’er his sturdy back,
And as the French, we conquer’d once,
Now give us laws for pantaloons,
The length of breeches, and the gathers,
925
Port-cannons, perriwigs, and feathers;
Just so the proud insulting lass
Array’d and dighted Hudibras.
Mean while the other champions, yerst
In hurry of the fight disperst,
930
Arriv’d, when TRULLA won the day,
To share in th’ honour and the prey,
And out of Hudibras his hide
With vengeance to be satisfy’d;
Which now they were about to pour
935
Upon him in a wooden show’r;
But TRULLA thrust herself between,
And striding o’er his back agen,
She brandish’d o’er her head his sword,
And vow’d they should not break her word;
940
This stopt their fury, and the basting
Which toward Hudibras was hasting.
They thought it was but just and right,
That what she had atchiev’d in fight,
She should dispose of how she pleas’d.
955
Crowdero ought to be releas’d;
Nor could that any way be done
So well as this she pitch’d upon
For who a better could imagine
This therefore they resolv’d t’engage
in. 960
The Knight and Squire first they made
Rise from the ground, where they were laid
Then mounted both upon their horses,
But with their faces to the arses,
ORSIN led HUDIBRAS’s beast,
965
And Talgol that which Ralpho prest,
Whom stout Magnano, valiant CERDON,
And Colon, waited as a guard on;
All ush’ring TRULLA in the rear,
With th’ arms of either prisoner.
970
In this proud order and array
They put themselves upon their way,
Striving to reach th’ enchanted castle,
Where stout Crowdero in durance lay still.
Thither with greater speed than shows
975
And triumph over conquer’d foes
Do use t’ allow, or than the bears
Or pageants borne before Lord-Mayors
Are wont to use, they soon arriv’d
In order, soldier-like contriv’d;
980
Still marching in a warlike posture,
As fit for battle as for muster.
The Knight and Squire they first unhorse,
And bending ’gainst the fort their force,
They all advanc’d, and round about
985
Begirt the magical redoubt.
Magnan led up in this adventure,
And made way for the rest to enter;
For he was skilful in black art.
No less than he that built the fort;
990
And with an iron mace laid flat
A breach, which straight all enter’d at,
And in the wooden dungeon found
Crowdero laid upon the ground.
Him they release from durance base,
995
Restor’d t’ his fiddle and his case,
And liberty, his thirsty rage
With luscious vengeance to asswage:
For he no sooner was at large,
But TRULLA straight brought on the charge,
1000
And in the self-same limbo put
The Knight and Squire where he was shut;
Where leaving them in Hockley i’ th’ Hole,
Their bangs and durance to condole,
Quoth he, Th’ one half of man, his mind,
Is, sui juris, unconfin’d,
And cannot be laid by the heels,
1015
Whate’er the other moiety feels.
’Tis not restraint or liberty
That makes men prisoners or free;
But perturbations that possess
The mind, or aequanimities.
1020
The whole world was not half so wide
To Alexander, when he cry’d,
Because he had but one to subdue,
As was a paltry narrow tub to
Diogenes; who is not said
1025
(For aught that ever I could read)
To whine, put finger i’ th’ eye, and sob,
Because h’ had ne’er another tub.
The ancients make two sev’ral kinds
Of prowess in heroic minds;
1030
The active, and the passive valiant;
Both which are pari libra gallant:
For both to give blows, and to carry,
In fights are equinecessary
But in defeats, the passive stout
1035
Are always found to stand it out
Most desp’rately, and to out-do
The active ’gainst the conqu’ring foe.
Tho’ we with blacks and blues are suggill’d,
Or, as the vulgar say, are cudgell’d;
1040
He that is valiant, and dares fight,
Though drubb’d, can lose no honour by’t.
Honour’s a lease for lives to come,
And cannot be extended from
The legal tenant: ’tis a chattel
1045
Not to be forfeited in battel.
If he that in the field is slain,
Be in the bed of Honour lain,
He that is beaten, may be said
To lie in Honour’s truckle-bed.
1050
For as we see th’ eclipsed sun
By mortals is more gaz’d upon,
Than when, adorn’d with all his light,
He shines in serene sky most bright:
So valour, in a low estate,
1055
Is most admir’d and wonder’d at.
Quoth Ralph, How great I do not know
We may by being beaten grow;
But none, that see how here we sit,
Will judge us overgrown with wit.
1060
As gifted brethren, preaching by
A carnal hour-glass, do imply,
Illumination can convey
Into them what they have to say,
But not how much; so well enough
1065
Know you to charge, but not draw off:
For who, without a cap and bauble,
Having subdu’d a bear and rabble,
And might with honour have come off
Would put it to a second proof?
1070
A politic exploit, right fit
For Presbyterian zeal and wit.
Quoth Hudibras, That cuckow’s tone,
Ralpho, thou always harp’st upon.
When thou at any thing would’st rail,
1075
Thou mak’st Presbytery the scale
To take the height on’t, and explain
To what degree it is prophane
Whats’ever will not with (thy what d’ye
call)
Thy light jump right, thou call’st synodical;
1080
As if Presbytery were the standard
To size whats’ever’s to he slander’d.
Dost not remember how this day,
Thou to my beard wast bold to say,
That thou coud’st prove bear-baiting equal
1085
With synods orthodox and legal?
Do if thou canst; for I deny’t,
And dare thee to ’t with all thy light.
Quoth Ralpho, Truly that is no
Hard matter for a man to do,
1090
That has but any guts in ’s brains,
And cou’d believe it worth his pains;
But since you dare and urge me to it,
You’ll find I’ve light enough to do it.
Synods are mystical bear-gardens,
1095
Where elders, deputies, church-wardens,
And other members of the court,
Manage the Babylonish sport;
For prolocutor, scribe, and bear-ward,
Do differ only in a mere word;
1100
Both are but sev’ral synagogues
Of carnal men, and bears, and dogs:
Both antichristian assemblies,
To mischief bent far as in them lies:
Both stave and tail with fierce contests;
1105
The one with men, the other beasts.
The diff’rence is, the one fights with
The tongue, the other with the teeth;
And that they bait but bears in this,
In th’ other, souls and consciences;
1110
Where Saints themselves are brought to stake
For gospel-light, and conscience sake;
Expos’d to Scribes and Presbyters,
Instead of mastive dogs and curs,
Than whom th’ have less humanity;
1115
For these at souls of men will fly.
This to the prophet did appear,
Who in a vision saw a bear,
Prefiguring the beastly rage
Of Church-rule in this latter age;
1120
As is demonstrated at full
By him that baited the
Bears nat’rally are beasts of prey,
That live by rapine; so do they.
What are their orders, constitutions,
1125
Church-censures, curses, absolutions,
But’ sev’ral mystic chains they make,
To tie poor Christians to the stake,
And then set heathen officers,
Instead of dogs, about their ears?
1130
For to prohibit and dispense;
To find out or to make offence;
Of Hell and Heaven to dispose;
To play with souls at fast and loose;
To set what characters they please,
1135
And mulcts on sin or godliness;
Reduce the Church to gospel-order,
By rapine, sacrilege, and murder;
Page 64
To make Presbytery supreme,
And Kings themselves submit to them;
1140
And force all people, though against
Their consciences, to turn Saints;
Must prove a pretty thriving trade,
When Saints monopolists are made;
When pious frauds, and holy shifts,
1145
Are dispensations and gifts,
Their godliness becomes mere ware,
And ev’ry Synod but a fair.
Synods are whelps of th’ Inquisition,
A mungrel breed of like pernicion,
1150
And growing up, became the sires
Of scribes, commissioners, and triers;
Whose bus’ness is, by cunning slight,
To cast a figure for mens’ light;
To find, in lines of beard and face,
1155
The physiognomy of grace;
And by the sound and twang of nose,
If all be sound within disclose,
Free from a crack or flaw of sinning,
As men try pipkins by the ringing;
1160
By black caps underlaid with white,
Give certain guess at inward light.
Which serjeants at the gospel wear,
To make the spiritual calling clear;
The handkerchief about the neck
1165
(Canonical cravat of Smeck,
From whom the institution came,
When Church and State they set on flame,
And worn by them as badges then
Of spiritual warfaring men)
1170
Judge rightly if regeneration
Be of the newest cut in fashion.
Sure ’tis an orthodox opinion,
That grace is founded in dominion.
Great piety consists in pride;
1175
To rule is to be sanctified:
To domineer, and to controul,
Both o’er the body and the soul,
Is the most perfect discipline
Of church-rule, and by right-divine.
1180
Bell and the Dragon’s chaplains were
More moderate than these by far:
For they (poor knaves) were glad to cheat,
To get their wives and children meat;
But these will not be fobb’d off so;
1185
They must have wealth and power too,
Or else with blood and desolation
They’ll tear it out o’ th’ heart
o’ th’ nation.
Sure these themselves from primitive
And Heathen Priesthood do derive,
1190
When butchers were the only Clerks,
Elders and Presbyters of Kirks;
Whose directory was to kill;
And some believe it is so still.
The only diff’rence is, that then
1195
They slaughter’d only beasts, now men.
For then to sacrifice a bullock,
Or now and then a child to Moloch,
They count a vile abomination,
But not to slaughter a whole nation.
1200
Presbytery does but translate
The Papacy to a free state;
A commonwealth of Popery,
Where ev’ry village is a See
As well as Rome, and must maintain
1205
Page 65
A Tithe-pig Metropolitan;
Where ev’ry Presbyter and Deacon
Commands the keys for cheese and bacon;
And ev’ry hamlet’s governed
By’s Holiness, the Church’s Head;
1210
More haughty and severe in’s place,
Than Gregory or Boniface.
Such Church must (surely) be a monster
With many heads: for if we conster
What in th’ Apocalypse we find,
1215
According to th’ Apostle’s mind,
’Tis that the Whore of Babylon
With many heads did ride upon;
Which heads denote the sinful tribe
Of Deacon, Priest, Lay-Elder, Scribe.
1220
Lay-Elder, Simeon to Levi,
Whose little finger is as heavy
As loins of patriarchs, prince-prelate,
And bishop-secular. This zealot
Is of a mungrel, diverse kind;
1225
Cleric before, and lay behind;
A lawless linsie-woolsie brother,
Half of one order, half another;
A creature of amphibious nature;
On land a beast, a fish in water;
1230
That always preys on grace or sin;
A sheep without, a wolf within.
This fierce inquisitor has chief
Dominion over men’s belief
And manners: can pronounce a Saint
1235
Idolatrous or ignorant,
When superciliously he sifts
Through coarsest boulter others’ gifts;
For all men live and judge amiss,
Whose talents jump not just with his.
1240
He’ll lay on gifts with hands, and place
On dullest noddle Light and Grace,
The manufacture of the Kirk.
Those pastors are but th’ handy-work
Of his mechanic paws, instilling
1245
Divinity in them by feeling;
From whence they start up Chosen Vessels,
Made by contact, as men get meazles.
At th’ other end the new-made Pope.
1250
Hold, hold, quoth Hudibras; soft fire,
They say, does make sweet malt. Good Squire,
Festina lente, not too fast;
For haste (the proverb says) makes waste.
The quirks and cavils thou dost make
1255
Are false, and built upon mistake:
And I shall bring you, with your pack
Of fallacies, t’ elenchi back;
And put your arguments in mood
And figure to be understood.
1260
I’ll force you, by right ratiocination,
To leave your
And make you keep to th’ question close,
And argue dialecticos.
The question then, to state it first,
1265
Is, Which is better, or which worst,
Synods or Bears? Bears I avow
To be the worst, and Synods thou.
But, to make good th’ assertion,
Thou say’st th’ are really all one.
1270
If so, not worst; for if th’ are idem
Why then, tantundem dat tantidem.
But yet we are beside the question
Which thou didst raise the first contest on;
For that was, Whether Bears are better
Than Synod-men? I say, Negatur.
That bears are beasts, and synods men,
1295
Is held by all: they’re better then:
For bears and dogs on four legs go,
As beasts, but Synod-men on two.
’Tis true, they all have teeth and nails;
But prove that Synod-men have tails;
1300
Or that a rugged, shaggy fur
Grows o’er the hide of Presbyter;
Or that his snout and spacious ears
Do hold proportion with a bear’s.
A bears a savage beast, of all
1305
Most ugly and unnatural
Whelp’d without form, until the dam
Has lick’d it into shape and frame:
But all thy light can ne’er evict,
That ever Synod-man was lick’d;
1310
Or brought to any other fashion,
Than his own will and inclination.
But thou dost further yet in this
Oppugn thyself and sense; that is,
Thou would’st have Presbyters to go
1315
For bears and dogs, and bearwards too;
A strange chimera of beasts and men,
Made up of pieces heterogene;
Such as in nature never met
In eodem subjecto yet.
1320
Thy other arguments are all
Supposures, hypothetical,
That do but beg, and we may chose
Either to grant them, or refuse.
Much thou hast said, which I know when
1325
And where thou stol’st from other men,
Whereby ’tis plain thy Light and Gifts
Are all but plagiary shifts;
And is the same that Ranter said,
Who, arguing with me, broke my head,
1330
And tore a handful of my beard:
The self-same cavils then I heard,
When, b’ing in hot dispute about
This controversy, we fell out
And what thou know’st I answer’d then,
1335
Will serve to answer thee agen.
Quoth Ralpho, Nothing but th’ abuse
Of human learning you produce;
Learning, that cobweb of the brain,
Profane, erroneous, and vain;
1340
A trade of knowledge, as replete
As others are with fraud and cheat;
An art t’incumber gifts and wit,
And render both for nothing fit;
Makes Light unactive, dull, and troubled,
1345
Like little David in SAUL’s doublet;
A cheat that scholars put upon
Other mens’ reason and their own;
A fort of error, to ensconce
Absurdity and ignorance,
1350
That renders all the avenues
To truth impervious and abstruse,
By making plain things, in debate,
By art, perplex’d, and intricate
For nothing goes for sense or light
1355
That will not with old rules jump right:
As if rules were not in the schools
Deriv’d from truth, but truth from rules.
This pagan, heathenish invention
Is good for nothing but contention.
1360
For as, in sword-and-buckler fight,
All blows do on the target light;
So when men argue, the great’st part
O’ th’ contests falls on terms of art,
Until the fustian stuff be spent,
1365
And then they fall to th’ argument.
Quoth Hudibras Friend Ralph, thou hast
Out-run the constable at last:
For thou art fallen on a new
Dispute, as senseless as untrue,
1370
But to the former opposite
And contrary as black to white;
Mere
Presbytery; this, human learning;
Two things s’averse, they never yet
1375
But in thy rambling fancy met.
But I shall take a fit occasion
T’ evince thee by ratiocination,
Some other time, in place more proper
Than this we’re in; therefore let’s stop
here, 1380
And rest our weary’d bones a-while,
Already tir’d with other toil.
134 p First TRULLA stav’d, &c.] Staving and Tailing are terms of art used in the Bear-Garden, and signify there only the parting of dogs and bears: Though they are used metaphorically in several other professions, for moderating; as law, divinity, hectoring, &c.
153 q Or like the late corrected leathern
Ears of the Circumcised
Brethren.
Pryn, Bastwick, and Burton, who laid down their ears
as proxies for their profession of the godly party,
not long after maintained their right and title to
the pillory to be as good and lawful as theirs who
first of all took possession of it in their names.
328 r That old, &c.] Pygmalion, king of Tyre, was the son of Margenus, or Mechres, whom he succeeded, and lived 56 years, wherof he reigned 47. Dido, his sister, was to have governed with him, but it was pretended the subjects thought it not convenient. She married Sichaeus, who was the king’s uncle, and very rich; wherefore he put him to death; and Dido soon after departed the kingdom. Poets say, Pygmalion was punished for the hatred he bore to women with the love he had to a statue.
925 s And as the French we conquer’d once,
Now give us Laws
for pantaloons, &c.
Pantaloons and Port-Cannons were some of the fantastick
fashions wherein we aped the French.
At quisquis Insula satus Britannica
Sic patria insolens fastidiet suam,
Ut more simiae laboret fingere,
Et aemulari Gallicas ineptias,
Et omni Gallo ego hunc opinor ebrium;
Ergo ex Britanno, ut Gallus esse nititur,
Sic Dii jubete, fiat ex Galle Capus.
Thomas more.
Gallus is a river in Phrygia; rising out of the mountains of Celenae, and discharging itself into the river Sanger, the water of which is of that admirable quality, that, being moderately drank, it purges the brain, and cures madness; but largely drank, it makes men frantick. Pliny, Horatius.
1123 t A learned divine in King James’s time wrote a polemick work against the Pope, and gave it that unlucky nick-name of The Pope’s Bull baited.
1166 u Canonical Cravat, &c.] Smectymnuus was a club of five parlimentary holders-forth; the characters of whose names and talents were by themselves expressed in that senseless and insignificant word. They wore handkerchiefs about their necks for a mark of distinction (as the Officers of the Parliament Army then did) which afterwards degenerated into carnal cravats. About the beginning of the long Parliament, in the year 1641, these five wrote a book against Episcopacy and the Common Prayer, to which they all subscribed their names; being Stephen Marshal, Edmund Calamy, Thomas Young, Matthew Newcomen, and William Spurstow, and from thence they and their followers were called Smectymnians. They are remarkable for another pious book, which they wrote some time after that, intitled, The Kings Cabinet unlocked, wherein all the chaste and endearing expressions, in the letters that passed betwixt his Majesty King Charles I. and his Royal Consort are by these painful labourers in the Devil’s vineyard turned into burlesque and ridicule. Their books were answered with as much calmness and genteelness of expression, and as much learning and honesty, b. the Rev. Mr. Symonds, then a deprived clergyman, as theirs was stuffed with malice, spleen, and rascally invectives.
1249 x So Cardinals they say do grope
At t’other
end the new-made Pope.
This relates to the story of Pope Joan, who was called
John VIII. Platina saith she was of English extraction,
but born at Mentz; who, having disguised herself like
a man, travelled with her paramour to Athens, where
she made such progress in learning, that coming to
Rome, she met with few that could equal her; so that,
on the death of Pope Leo IV. she was chosen to succeed
him; but being got with child by one of her domesticks,
her travail came upon her between the Colossian Theatre
and St. Clement’s, as she was going to the Lateran
Church, and died upon the place, having sat two years,
one month, and four days, and was buried there without
1262 y To leave your Vitiligation, &c.] Vitilitigation is a word the Knight was passionately in love with, and never failed to use it upon all occasions; and therefore to omit it, when it fell in the way, bad argued too great a neglect of his learning and parts; though it means no more than a perverse humour of wrangling.
1373 z Mere Disparata, &c.] Disparata are things separate and unlike, from the Latin word Disparo.
CANTO I
------------------------------------------------- The Knight by damnable Magician, Being cast illegally in prison, Love brings his Action on the Case. And lays it upon Hudibras. How he receives the Lady’s Visit, And cunningly solicits his Suite, Which she defers; yet on Parole Redeems him from th’ inchanted Hole. -------------------------------------------------
But now, t’observe a romantic method,
Let bloody steel a while be sheathed,
And all those harsh and rugged sounds
Of bastinadoes, cuts, and wounds,
Exchang’d to Love’s more gentle stile,
5
To let our reader breathe a while;
In which, that we may be as brief as
Is possible, by way of preface,
Is’t not enough to make one strange,
That some men’s fancies should ne’er change,
10
But make all people do and say
The same things still the self-same way
Some writers make all ladies purloin’d,
And knights pursuing like a whirlwind
Others make all their knights, in fits
15
Of jealousy, to lose their wits;
Till drawing blood o’th’ dames, like witches,
Th’ are forthwith cur’d of their capriches.
Some always thrive in their amours
By pulling plaisters off their sores;
20
As cripples do to get an alms,
Just so do they, and win their dames.
Some force whole regions, in despight
O’ geography, to change their site;
Make former times shake hands with latter,
25
And that which was before, come after.
But those that write in rhime, still make
The one verse for the other’s sake;
For, one for sense, and one for rhime,
I think’s sufficient at one time.
30
But we forget in what sad plight
We whilom left the captiv’d Knight
And pensive Squire, both bruis’d in body,
And conjur’d into safe custody.
Tir’d with dispute and speaking Latin,
35
As well as basting and bear-baiting,
And desperate of any course,
To free himself by wit or force,
His only solace was, that now
His dog-bolt fortune was so low,
40
That either it must quickly end
Or turn about again, and mend;
In which he found th’ event, no less
Than other times beside his guess.
There is a tall long sided dame
45
(But wond’rous light,) ycleped Fame
That, like a thin camelion, boards
Herself on air, and eats her words;
Upon her shoulders wings she wears
Like hanging-sleeves, lin’d through with ears,
50
And eyes, and tongues, as poets list,
Made good by deep mythologist,
With these she through the welkin flies,
And sometimes carries truth, oft lies
With letters hung like eastern pigeons,
55
And Mercuries of furthest regions;
Diurnals writ for regulation
Of lying, to inform the nation;
And by their public use to bring down
The rate of whetstones in the kingdom.
60
About her neck a pacquet-male,
Fraught with advice, some fresh, some stale,
Of men that walk’d when they were dead,
And cows of monsters brought to bed;
Of hail-stones big as pullets eggs,
65
And puppies whelp’d with twice two legs;
A blazing star seen in the west,
By six or seven men at least.
Two trumpets she does sound at once,
But both of clean contrary tones;
70
But whether both with the same wind,
Or one before, and one behind,
We know not; only this can tell,
The one sounds vilely, th’ other well;
And therefore vulgar authors name
75
Th’ one Good, the other Evil, Fame.
This tattling gossip knew too well
What mischief Hudibras befell.
And straight the spiteful tidings bears
Of all to th’ unkind widow’s ears.
80
Democritus ne’er laugh’d so loud
To see bawds carted through the crowd,
Or funerals with stately pomp
March slowly on in solemn dump,
As she laugh’d out, until her back,
85
As well as sides, was like to crack.
She vow’d she would go see the sight,
And visit the distressed Knight;
To do the office of a neighbour,
And be a gossip at his labour;
90
And from his wooden jail, the stocks,
To set at large his fetter-locks;
And, by exchange, parole, or ransom,
To free him from th’ enchanted mansion.
This b’ing resolv’d, she call’d
for hood 95
And usher, implements abroad
No sooner did the Knight perceive her,
115
But straight he fell into a fever,
Inflam’d all over with disgrace,
To be seen by her in such a place;
Which made him hang his head, and scoul,
And wink, and goggle like an owl.
120
He felt his brains begin to swim,
When thus the dame accosted him:
This place (quoth she) they say’s enchanted,
And with delinquent spirits haunted,
That here are ty’d in chains, and scourg’d,
125
Until their guilty crimes be purg’d.
Look, there are two of them appear,
Like persons I have seen somewhere.
Some have mistaken blocks and posts
For spectres, apparitions, ghosts,
130
With saucer eyes, and horns; and some
Have heard the Devil beat a drum:
But if our eyes are not false glasses,
That give a wrong account of faces,
That beard and I should be acquainted,
135
Before ’twas conjur’d or enchanted;
For though it be disfigur’d somewhat,
As if ’t had lately been in combat,
It did belong to a worthy Knight
Howe’er this goblin has come by’t.
140
When Hudibras the Lady heard
Discoursing thus upon his beard,
And speak with such respect and honour,
Both of the beard and the beard’s owner,
He thought it best to set as good
145
A face upon it as he cou’d,
And thus he spoke: Lady, your bright
And radiant eyes are in the right:
The beard’s th’ identic beard you knew,
The same numerically true:
150
Nor is it worn by fiend or elf,
But its proprietor himself.
O, heavens! quoth she, can that be true?
I do begin to fear ’tis you:
Not by your individual whiskers,
155
But by your dialect and discourse,
That never spoke to man or beast
In notions vulgarly exprest.
But what malignant star, alas
Has brought you both to this sad pass?
160
Quoth he, The fortune of the war,
Which I am less afflicted for,
Than to be seen with beard and face,
By you in such a homely case.
Quoth she, Those need not he asham’d
165
For being honorably maim’d,
If he that is in battle conquer’d,
Have any title to his own beard;
Though yours be sorely lugg’d and torn,
It does your visage more adorn
170
Than if ’twere prun’d, and starch’d,
and lander’d,
And cut square by the Russian standard.
A torn beard’s like a tatter’d ensign,
That’s bravest which there are most rents in.
That petticoat about your shoulders
175
Does not so well become a souldier’s;
And I’m afraid they are worse handled
Although i’ th’ rear; your beard the van
led;
And those uneasy bruises make
My heart for company to ake,
180
To see so worshipful a friend
I’ th’ pillory set, at the wrong end.
Quoth Hudibras, This thing call’d pain
Is (as the learned Stoicks maintain)
Not bad simpliciter, nor good,
185
But merely as ’tis understood.
Sense is deceitful, and may feign,
As well in counterfeiting pain
As other gross phenomenas,
In which it oft mistakes the case.
190
But since the immortal intellect
(That’s free from error and defect,
Whose objects still persist the same)
Is free from outward bruise and maim,
Which nought external can expose
195
To gross material bangs or blows,
It follows, we can ne’er be sure,
Whether we pain or not endure;
And just so far are sore and griev’d,
As by the fancy is believ’d.
200
Some have been wounded with conceit,
And dy’d of mere opinion straight;
Others, tho’ wounded sore in reason,
Felt no contusion, nor discretion.
A Saxon Duke did grow so fat,
205
That mice (as histories relate)
Eat grots and labyrinths to dwell in
His postick parts without his feeling:
Then how is’t possible a kick
Should e’er reach that way to the quick?
210
Quoth she, I grant it is in vain.
For one that’s basted to feel pain,
Because the pangs his bones endure
Contribute nothing to the cure:
Yet honor hurt, is wont to rage
215
With pain no med’cine can asswage.
Quoth he, That honour’s very squeamish
That takes a basting for a blemish;
For what’s more hon’rable than scars,
Or skin to tatters rent in wars?
220
Some have been beaten till they know
What wood a cudgel’s of by th’ blow;
Some kick’d until they can feel whether
A shoe be Spanish or neat’s leather;
And yet have met, after long running,
Th’ old Romans freedom did bestow,
235
Our princes worship, with a blow.
King Pyrrhus cur’d his splenetic
And testy courtiers with a kick.
The Negus, when some mighty lord
Or potentate’s to be restor’d
240
And pardon’d for some great offence,
With which be’s willing to dispense,
First has him laid upon his belly,
Then beaten back and side to a jelly;
That done, he rises, humbly bows,
245
And gives thanks for the princely blows;
Departs not meanly proud, and boasting
Of this magnificent rib-roasting.
The beaten soldier proves most manful,
That, like his sword, endures the anvil,
250
And justly’s held more formidable,
The more his valour’s malleable:
But he that fears a bastinado
Will run away from his own shadow:
And though I’m now in durance fast,
255
By our own party basely cast,
Ransom, exchange, parole refus’d,
And worse than by the enemy us’d;
In close catasta shut, past hope
Of wit or valour to elope;
260
As beards the nearer that they tend
To th’ earth still grow more reverend;
And cannons shoot the higher pitches,
The lower we let down their breeches;
I’ll make this low dejected fate
265
Advance me to a greater height.
Quoth she, Y’ have almost made me in love
With that which did my pity move.
Great wits and valours, like great states,
Do sometimes sink with their own weights:
Th’ extremes of glory and of shame,
270
Like East and West, become the same:
No Indian Prince has to his palace
More foll’wers than a thief to th’ gallows,
But if a beating seem so brave,
275
What glories must a whipping have
Such great atchievements cannot fail
To cast salt on a woman’s tail:
For if I thought your nat’ral talent
Of passive courage were so gallant,
280
As you strain hard to have it thought,
I could grow amorous, and dote.
When Hudibras this language heard,
He prick’d up’s ears and strok’d
his beard;
Thought he, this is the lucky hour;
285
Wines work when vines are in the flow’r;
This crisis then I’ll set my rest on,
And put her boldly to the question.
Madam, what you wou’d seem to doubt,
Shall be to all the world made out,
290
How I’ve been drubb’d, and with what spirit
And magnanimity I bear it;
And if you doubt it to be true,
I’ll stake myself down against you:
And if I fail in love or troth,
295
Be you the winner, and take both.
Quoth she, I’ve beard old cunning stagers
Say, fools for arguments use wagers;
And though I prais’d your valour, yet
I did not mean to baulk your wit;
300
Which, if you have, you must needs know
What I have told you before now,
And you b’ experiment have prov’d,
I cannot love where I’m belov’d.
Quoth Hudibras, ’tis a caprich
305
Beyond th’ infliction of a witch;
So cheats to play with those still aim
That do not understand the game.
Love in your heart as icily burns
As fire in antique Roman urns,
310
To warm the dead, and vainly light
Those only that see nothing by’t.
Have you not power to entertain,
And render love for love again;
As no man can draw in his breath
315
At once, and force out air beneath?
Or do you love yourself so much,
To bear all rivals else a grutch?
What fate can lay a greater curse
Than you upon yourself would force?
320
For wedlock without love, some say,
Is but a lock without a key.
It is a kind of rape to marry
One that neglects, or cares not for ye:
For what does make it ravishment,
325
But b’ing against the mind’s consent?
A rape that is the more inhuman
For being acted by a woman.
Why are you fair, but to entice us
To love you, that you may despise us?
330
But though you cannot Love, you say,
Out of your own fanatick way,
Why should you not at least allow
Those that love you to do so too?
For, as you fly me, and pursue
330
Love more averse, so I do you;
And am by your own doctrine taught
To practise what you call a fau’t.
Quoth she, If what you say is true,
You must fly me as I do you;
340
But ’tis not what we do, but say,
In love and preaching, that must sway.
Quoth he, To bid me not to love,
Is to forbid my pulse to move,
My beard to grow, my ears to prick up,
345
Or (when I’m in a fit) to hickup:
Command me to piss out the moon,
And ’twill as easily be done:
Love’s power’s too great to be withstood
By feeble human flesh and blood.
350
’Twas he that brought upon his knees
The hect’ring, kill-cow Hercules;
Transform’d his leager-lion’s skin
T’ a petticoat, and made him spin;
Quoth she, If Love have these effects,
Why is it not forbid our sex?
380
Why is’t not damn’d and interdicted,
For diabolical and wicked?
And sung, as out of tune, against,
As Turk and Pope are by the Saints?
I find I’ve greater reason for it,
385
Than I believ’d before t’ abhor it.
Quoth Hudibras, These sad effects
Spring from your Heathenish neglects
Of Love’s great pow’r, which he returns
Upon yourselves with equal scorns;
390
And those who worthy lovers slight,
Plagues with prepost’rous appetite.
This made the beauteous Queen of Crete
To take a town-bull for her sweet,
And from her greatness stoop so low,
395
To be the rival of a cow:
Others to prostitute their great hearts,
To he baboons’ and monkeys’ sweet-hearts;
Some with the Dev’l himself in league grow,
By’s representative a Negro.
400
’Twas this made vestal-maids love-sick,
And venture to be bury’d quick:
Some by their fathers, and their brothers,
To be made mistresses and mothers.
’Tis this that proudest dames enamours
405
On lacquies and valets des chambres;
Their haughty stomachs overcomes,
And makes ’em stoop to dirty grooms;
To slight the world, and to disparage
Claps, issue, infamy, and marriage.
410
Quoth she, These judgments are severe,
Yet such as I should rather bear,
Than trust men with their oaths, or prove
Their faith and secresy in love,
Says he, There is as weighty reason
415
For secresy in love as treason.
Love is a burglarer, a felon,
That at the windore-eyes does steal in
To rob the heart, and with his prey
Steals out again a closer way,
420
Which whosoever can discover,
He’s sure (as he deserves) to suffer.
Love is a fire, that burns and sparkles
In men as nat’rally as in charcoals,
Which sooty chymists stop in holes
425
When out of wood they extract coals:
So lovers should their passions choak,
That, tho’ they burn, they may not smoak.
’Tis like that sturdy thief that stole
And dragg’d beasts backwards into’s hole:
430
So Love does lovers, and us men
Draws by the tails into his den,
That no impression may discover,
And trace t’ his cave, the wary lover,
But if you doubt I should reveal
435
What you entrust me under seal.
I’ll prove myself as close and virtuous
As your own secretary albertus.
Quoth she, I grant you may be close
In hiding what your aims propose.
440
Love-passions are like parables,
By which men still mean something else,
Though love be all the world’s pretence,
Money’s the mythologick sense;
The real substance of the shadow,
445
Which all address and courtship’s made to.
Thought he, I understand your play,
And how to quit you your own way:
He that will win his dame, must do
As Love does when he bends his bow;
450
With one hand thrust the lady from,
And with the other pull her home.
I grant, quoth he, wealth is a great
Provocative to am’rous heat.
It is all philters, and high diet,
455
That makes love rampant, and to fly out:
’Tis beauty always in the flower,
That buds and blossoms at fourscore:
’Tis that by which the sun and moon
At their own weapons are out-done:
460
That makes Knights-Errant fall in trances,
And lay about ’em in romances:
’Tis virtue, wit, and worth, and all
That men divine and sacred call:
For what is worth in any thing,
465
But so much money as ’twill bring?
Or what, but riches is there known,
Which man can solely call his own
In which no creature goes his half;
Unless it be to squint and laugh?
470
I do confess, with goods and land,
I’d have a wife at second-hand;
And such you are. Nor is ’t your person
My stomach’s set so sharp and fierce on;
But ’tis (your better part) your riches,
475
That my enamour’d heart bewitches.
Let me your fortune but possess,
And settle your person how you please:
Or make it o’er in trust to th’ Devil;
You’ll find me reasonable and civil.
480
Quoth she, I like this plainness better
Than false mock-passion, speech, or letter,
Or any feat of qualm or sowning,
But hanging of yourself, or drowning.
Your only way with me to break
485
Your mind, is breaking of your neck;
For as when merchants break, o’erthrown,
Like nine-pins they strike others down,
So that would break my heart; which done,
My tempting fortune is your own,
490
These are but trifles: ev’ry lover
Will damn himself over and over,
And greater matters undertake
For a less worthy mistress’ sake:
Yet th’ are the only ways to prove
495
Th’ unfeign’d realities of love:
For he that hangs, or beats out’s brains,
The Devil’s in him if he feigns.
Quoth Hudibras, This way’s too rough
For mere experiment and proof:
500
It is no jesting, trivial matter,
To swing t’ th’ air, or douce in Water,
And, like a water-witch, try love;
That’s to destroy, and not to prove;
As if a man should be dissected
505
To find what part is disaffected.
Your better way is to make over,
In trust, your fortune to your lover.
Trust is a trial; if it break,
’Tis not so desp’rate as a neck.
510
Beside, th’ experiment’s more certain;
Men venture necks to gain a fortune:
The soldier does it ev’ry day.
(Eight to the week) for sixpence pay:
Your pettifoggers damn their souls,
515
To share with knaves in cheating fools:
And merchants, vent’ring through the main,
Slight pirates, rocks, and horns, for gain.
This is the way I advise you to:
Trust me, and see what I will do.
520
Quoth she, I should be loth to run
Myself all th’ hazard, and you none;
Which must be done, unless some deed
Of your’s aforesaid do precede.
Give but yourself one gentle swing
525
For trial, and I’ll cut the string:
Or give that rev’rend head a maul,
Or two, or three, against a wall,
To shew you are a man of mettle,
And I’ll engage myself to settle.
530
Quoth he, My head’s not made of brass,
As Friar Bacon’s noodle was;
Nor (like the Indian’s skull) so tough
That, authors say, ’twas musket-proof,
As yet on any new adventure,
535
As it had need to be, to enter.
You see what bangs it has endur’d,
That would, before new feats, be cur’d.
But if that’s all you stand upon,
Here, strike me luck, it shall be done.
540
Quoth she, The matter’s not so far gone
As you suppose: Two words t’ a bargain:
That may be done, and time enough,
When you have given downright proof;
And yet ’tis no fantastic pique
545
I have to love, nor coy dislike:
’Tis no implicit, nice aversion
T’ your conversation, mein, or person,
But a just fear, lest you should prove
False and perfidious in love:,
550
For if I thought you could be true,
I could love twice as much as you.
Quoth he, My faith as adamanatine,
As chains of destiny, I’ll maintain:
True as Apollo ever spoke,
555
Or Oracle from heart of oak;
And if you’ll give my flame but vent,
Now in close hugger-mugger pent,
And shine upon me but benignly,
With that one, and that other pigsney,
560
The sun and day shall sooner part,
Than love or you shake off my heart;
The sun, that shall no more dispense
His own but your bright influence.
I’ll carve your name on barks of trees,
565
With true-loves-knots and flourishes,
That shall infuse eternal spring,
And everlasting flourishing:
Drink ev’ry letter on’t in stum,
And make it brisk champaign become;
570
Where-e’er you tread, your foot shall set
The primrose and the violet:
All spices, perfumes, and sweet powders,
Shall borrow from your breath their odours:
Nature her charter shall renew,
575
And take all lives of things from you;
The world depend upon your eye,
And when you frown upon it, die:
Only our loves shall still survive,
New worlds and natures to out-live:
580
And, like to heralds’ moons, remain
All crescents, without change or wane.
Hold, hold, quoth she; no more of this,
Sir Knight; you take your aim amiss:
For you will find it a hard chapter
585
To catch me with poetic rapture,
In which your mastery of art
Doth shew itself, and not your heart:
Nor will you raise in mine combustion
By dint of high heroic fustian.
590
She that with poetry is won,
Is but a desk to write upon;
And what men say of her, they mean
No more than on the thing they lean.
Some with Arabian spices strive
595
T’ embalm her cruelly alive;
Or season her, as French cooks use
Their haut-gousts, bouillies, or ragousts:
Use her so barbarously ill,
To grind her lips upon a mill,
600
Until the facet doublet doth
Fit their rhimes rather than her mouth:
Her mouth compar’d to an oyster’s, with
A row of pearl in’t — stead of teeth.
Others make posies of her cheeks,
605
Quoth Hudibras, I’m beforehand
665
In that already, with your command
For where does beauty and high wit
But in your constellation meet?
Quoth she, What does a match imply,
But likeness and equality?
670
I know you cannot think me fit
To be th’ yoke-fellow of your wit;
Nor take one of so mean deserts,
To be the partner of your parts;
A grace which, if I cou’d believe,
675
I’ve not the conscience to receive.
That conscience, quoth Hudibras,
Is mis-inform’d: I’ll state the case
A man may be a legal donor,
Of any thing whereof he’s owner,
680
And may confer it where he lists,
I’ th’ judgment of all casuists,
Then wit, and parts, and valour, may
Be ali’nated, and made away,
By those that are proprietors,
685
As I may give or sell my horse.
Quoth she, I grant the case is true
And proper ’twixt your horse and you;
But whether I may take as well
As you may give away or sell?
690
Buyers you know are bid beware;
And worse than thieves receivers are.
How shall I answer hue and cry,
For a roan gelding, twelve hands high,
All spurr’d and switch’d, a lock on’s
hoof, 695
A sorrel mane? Can I bring proof
Where, when, by whom, and what y’ were sold
for,
And in the open market toll’d for?
Or should I take you for a stray,
You must be kept a year and day
700
(Ere I can own you) here i’ the pound,
Where, if y’ are sought, you may be found
And in the mean time I must pay
For all your provender and hay.
Quoth he, It stands me much upon
705
T’ enervate this objection,
And prove myself; by topic clear
No gelding, as you would infer.
Loss of virility’s averr’d
To be the cause of loss of beard,
710
That does (like embryo in the womb)
Abortive on the chin become.
This first a woman did invent,
In envy of man’s ornament;
semiramis, of Babylon,
715
Who first of all cut men o’ th’ stone,
To mar their beards, and lay foundation
Of sow-geldering operation.
Look on this beard, and tell me whether
Eunuchs wear such, or geldings either?
720
Next it appears I am no horse;
That I can argue and discourse
Have but two legs, and ne’er a tail.
Quoth she, That nothing will avail
For some philosophers of late here,
725
Write, men have four legs by nature,
And that ’tis custom makes them go
Erron’ously upon but two;
As ’twas in Germany made good
B’ a boy that lost himself in a wood,
730
And growing down to a man, was wont
With wolves upon all four to hunt.
As for your reasons drawn from tails,
We cannot say they’re true or false,
Till you explain yourself, and show,
735
B’ experiment, ’tis so or no.
Quoth he, If you’ll join issue on’t,
I’ll give you satisfactory account;
So you will promise, if you lose,
To settle all, and be my spouse.
740
That never shall be done (quoth she)
To one that wants a tail, by me
For tails by nature sure were meant,
As well as beards, for ornament:
And though the vulgar count them homely,
745
In men or beast they are so comely,
So gentee, alamode, and handsome,
I’ll never marry man that wants one;
And till you can demonstrate plain,
You have one equal to your mane,
750
I’ll be torn piece-meal by a horse,
Ere I’ll take you for better or worse.
The Prince of CAMBAY’s daily food
Is asp, and basilisk, and toad;
Which makes him have so strong a breath,
755
Each night he stinks a queen to death;
Yet I shall rather lie in’s arms
Than yours, on any other terms.
Quoth he, What nature can afford,
I shall produce, upon my word;
760
And if she ever gave that boon
To man, I’ll prove that I have one
I mean by postulate illation,
When you shall offer just occasion:
But since y’ have yet deny’d to give
765
My heart, your pris’ner, a reprieve,
But made it sink down to my heel,
Let that at least your pity feel;
And, for the sufferings of your martyr,
Give its poor entertainer quarter;
770
And, by discharge or main-prize, grant
Deliv’ry from this base restraint.
Quoth she, I grieve to see your leg
Stuck in a hole here like a peg;
And if I knew which way to do’t
775
(Your honour safe) I’d let you out.
That Dames by jail-delivery
Of Errant-Knights have been set free,
When by enchantment they have been,
And sometimes for it too, laid in,
780
Is that which Knights are bound to do
By order, oath, and honour too:
For what are they renown’d, and famous else,
But aiding of distressed damosels?
But for a Lady no ways errant,
785
To free a Knight, we have no warrant
In any authentical romance,
Or classic author, yet of France;
And I’d be loth to have you break
An ancient custom for a freak,
790
Or innovation introduce
In place of things of antique use;
To free your heels by any course,
That might b’ unwholesome to your spurs;
Which, if I should consent unto,
795
It is not in my pow’r to do;
For ’tis a service must be done ye
With solemn previous ceremony;
Which always has been us’d t’ untie
The charms of those who here do lie
800
For as the ancients heretofore
To Honour’s Temple had no door,
But that which thorough Virtue’s lay,
So from this dungeon there’s no way
To honour’d freedom, but by passing
805
That other virtuous school of lashing,
Where Knights are kept in narrow lists,
Quoth he, I do profess and swear,
And will perform what you enjoin,
Or may I never see you mine.
Amen, (quoth she;) then turn’d about,
And bid her Esquire let him out.
900
But ere an artist could be found
T’ undo the charms another bound,
The sun grew low, and left the skies,
Put down (some write) by ladies eyes,
The moon pull’d off her veil of light
905
That hides her face by day from sight,
(Mysterious veil, of brightness made,
That’s both her lustre and her shade,)
And in the lanthorn of the night
With shining horns hung out her light;
910
For darkness is the proper sphere,
Where all false glories use t’ appear.
The twinkling stars began to muster,
And glitter with their borrow’d lustre,
While sleep the weary ’d world reliev’d,
915
By counterfeiting death reviv’d;
His whipping penance till the morn
Our vot’ry thought it best t’ adjourn,
And not to carry on a work
Of such importance in the dark,
920
With erring haste, but rather stay,
And do’t in th’ open face of day;
And in the mean time go in quest
Of next retreat to take his rest.
THE ARGUMENT.
------------------------------------------------- The Knight and Squire, in hot dispute, Within an ace of falling out, Are parted with a sudden fright Of strange alarm, and stranger sight; With which adventuring to stickle, They’re sent away in nasty pickle. -------------------------------------------------
‘Tis strange how some mens’ tempers suit
(Like bawd and brandy) with dispute,
That for their own opinions stand last
Only to have them claw’d and canvast;
That keep their consciences in cases,
5
The Sun had long since, in the lap
Of Thetis, taken out his nap,
30
And, like a lobster boil’d, the morn
From black to red began to turn,
When Hudibras, whom thoughts and aking,
’Twixt sleeping kept all night and waking,
Began to rub his drowsy eyes,
35
And from his couch prepar’d to rise,
Resolving to dispatch the deed
He vow’d to do with trusty speed.
But first, with knocking loud, and bawling,
He rouz’d the Squire, in truckle lolling;
40
And, after many circumstances,
Which vulgar authors, in romances,
Do use to spend their time and wits on,
To make impertinent description,
They got (with much ado) to horse,
45
And to the Castle bent their course,
In which he to the Dame before
To suffer whipping duly swore;
Where now arriv’d, and half unharnest,
To carry on the work in earnest,
50
He stopp’d, and paus’d upon the sudden,
And with a serious forehead plodding,
Sprung a new scruple his head,
Which first he scratch’d, and after said —
Whether it be direct infringing
55
An oath, if I should wave this swingeing,
And what I’ve sworn to bear, forbear,
And so b’ equivocation swear,
Or whether it be a lesser sin
To be forsworn than act the thing,
60
Are deep and subtle points, which must,
T’ inform my conscience, be discust;
In which to err a tittle may
To errors infinite make way;
And therefore I desire to know
65
Thy judgment e’er we further go.
Quoth Ralpho, Since you do enjoin’t,
I shall enlarge upon the point;
And, for my own part, do not doubt
Th’ affirmative may be made out,
70
But first, to state the case aright,
For best advantage of our light,
And thus ’tis: Whether ’t be a sin
To claw and curry your own skin,
Greater or less, than to forbear,
75
And that you are forsworn, forswear.
But first, o’ th’ first: The inward
man,
And outward, like a clan and clan,
Have always been at daggers-drawing,
And one another clapper-clawing.
80
Not that they really cuff, or fence,
But in a Spiritual Mystick sense;
Which to mistake, and make ’em squabble
In literal fray’s abominable.
’Tis heathenish, in frequent use
85
With Pagans and apostate Jews,
To offer sacrifice of bridewells,
Like modern Indians to their idols;
And mongrel Christians of our times,
That expiate less with greater crimes,
90
And call the foul abomination,
Contrition and mortification.
Is ’t not enough we’re bruis’d and
kicked
With sinful members of the wicked,
Our vessels, that are sanctify’d,
95
Prophan’d and curry’d back and side,
But we must claw ourselves with shameful
And heathen stripes, by their example;
Which (were there nothing to forbid it)
Is impious because they did it;
100
This, therefore, may be justly reckon’d
A heinous sin. Now to the second
That Saints may claim a dispensation
To swear and forswear, on occasion,
I doubt not but it will appear
105
With pregnant light: the point is clear.
Oaths are but words, and words but wind;
Too feeble implements to bind;
And hold with deeds proportion so
As shadows to a substance do.
110
Then when they strive for place, ’tis fit
The weaker vessel should submit.
Although your Church be opposite
To ours as Black Friars are to White,
In rule and order, yet I grant,
115
You are a Reformado Saint;
And what the Saints do claim as due,
You may pretend a title to:
But Saints whom oaths and vows oblige,
Know little of their privilege;
120
Further (I mean) than carrying on
Some self-advantage of their own:
For if the Dev’l, to serve his turn,
Can tell troth, why the Saints should scorn,
When it serves theirs, to swear and lye;
125
I think there’s little reason why:
Else h’ has a greater pow’r than they,
Which ’t were impiety to say.
W’ are not commanded to forbear
Indefinitely at all to swear;
130
But to swear idly, and in vain,
Without self-interest or gain
If that were all, for some have swore
As false as they, if th’ did no more,
Did they not swear to maintain Law,
In which that swearing made a flaw?
170
For Protestant Religion vow,
That did that vowing disallow?
For Privilege of Parliament,
In which that swearing made a rent?
And since, of all the three, not one
175
Is left in being, ’tis well known.
Did they not swear, in express words,
To prop and back the House of Lords,
And after turn’d out the whole House-full
Of Peers, as dang’rous and unusefull?
180
So Cromwell, with deep oaths and vows,
Swore all the Commons out o’ th’ House;
Vow’d that the red-coats would disband,
Ay, marry wou’d they, at their command;
And troll’d them on, and swore, and swore,
185
Till th’ army turn’d them out of door.
This tells us plainly what they thought,
That oaths and swearing go for nought,
And that by them th’ were only meant
To serve for an expedient.
190
What was the Public Faith found out for,
But to slur men of what they fought for
The Public Faith, which ev’ry one
Is bound t’ observe, yet kept by none;
And if that go for nothing, why
195
Should Private Faith have such a tye?
Quoth Hudibras, All this is true;
260
Yet ’tis not fit that all men knew,
Those mysteries and revelations,
And therefore topical evasions
Of subtle turns and shifts of sense,
Serve best with th’ wicked for pretence,
Such as the learned Jesuits use,
265
And Presbyterians for excuse
Against the Protestants, when th’ happen
To find their Churches taken napping:
As thus: A breach of oath is duple,
And either way admits a scruple,
270
And may be, ex parte of the maker
More criminal than th’ injur’d taker;
For he that strains too far a vow,
Will break it, like an o’er-bent bow:
And he that made, and forc’d it, broke it,
275
Not he that for convenience took it.
A broken oath is, quatenus oath,
As sound t’ all purposes of troth,
As broken laws are ne’er the worse;
Nay, till th’ are broken have no force.
280
What’s justice to a man, or laws,
That never comes within their claws
They have no pow’r, but to admonish:
Cannot controul, coerce, or punish,
Until they’re broken, and then touch
285
Those only that do make ’em such.
Beside, no engagement is allow’d
By men in prison made for good;
For when they’re set at liberty,
They’re from th’ engagement too set free.
290
The rabbins write, when any Jew
Did make to God, or man, a vow,
Which afterward he found untoward,
And stubborn to be kept, or too hard,
Any three other Jews o’ th’ nation,
295
Might free him from the obligation
And have not two saints pow’r to use
A greater privilege than three Jews?
The court of conscience, which in man
Should be supreme and sovereign,
300
Is’t fit should be subordinate
To ev’ry petty court i’ the state,
And have less power than the lesser,
To deal with perjury at pleasure?
Have its proceedings disallow’d, or
305
Allow’d, at fancy of Pye-Powder?
Tell all it does, or does not know,
For swearing ex officio?
Be forc’d t’ impeach a broken hedge,
And pigs unring’d at Vis. Franc. Pledge?
310
Discover thieves, and bawds, recusants,
Priests, witches, eves-droppers, and nuisance:
Tell who did play at games unlawful,
And who fill’d pots of ale but half-full
And have no pow’r at all, nor shift,
315
To help itself at a dead lift
Why should not conscience have vacation
As well as other courts o’ th’ nation
Have equal power to adjourn,
Appoint appearance and return;
320
And make as nice distinction serve
To split a case, as those that carve,
Invoking cuckolds’ names, hit joints;
Why should not tricks as slight do points
Quoth Ralpho, Honour’s but a word
To swear by only in a Lord:
390
In other men ’tis but a huff,
To vapour with instead of proof;
That, like a wen, looks big and swells,
Is senseless, and just nothing else.
Let it (quoth he) be what it will,
395
It has the world’s opinion still.
But as men are not wise that run
The slightest hazard they may shun,
There may a medium be found out
To clear to all the world the doubt;
400
And that is, if a man may do’t,
By proxy whipt, or substitute.
Though nice and dark the point appear,
(Quoth Ralph) it may hold up and clear.
That sinners may supply the place
405
Of suff’ring Saints is a plain case.
Justice gives sentence many times
On one man for another’s crimes.
Our brethren of new England use
Choice malefactors to excuse,
410
And hang the guiltless in their stead,
Of whom the Churches have less need;
As lately ’t happen’d: In a town
There liv’d a cobler, and but one,
That out of doctrine could cut use,
415
And mend men’s lives as well as shoes,
This precious brother having slain,
In time of peace, an Indian,
(Not out of malice, but mere zeal,
Because he was an Infidel,)
420
The mighty TOTTIPOTTYMOY
Sent to our elders an envoy,
Complaining sorely of the breach
Of league held forth by brother Patch
Against the articles in force
425
Between both Churches, his and ours
For which he crav’d the Saints to render
Into his hands or hang th’ offender
But they maturely having weigh’d,
They had no more but him o’ th’ trade,
430
(A man that serv’d them in a double
Capacity, to teach and cobble,)
Resolv’d to spare him; yet, to do
The Indian Hoghgan Moghgan too
Impartial justice, in his stead did
435
Hang an old Weaver, that was bed-rid.
Then wherefore way not you be skipp’d,
And in your room another whipp’d?
For all Philosophers, but the Sceptick,
Hold whipping may be sympathetick.
440
It is enough, quoth Hudibras,
Thou hast resolv’d and clear’d the case
And canst, in conscience, not refuse
From thy own doctrine to raise use.
I know thou wilt not (for my sake)
445
Be tender-conscienc’d of thy back.
Then strip thee off thy carnal jerking,
And give thy outward-fellow a ferking;
For when thy vessel is new hoop’d,
All leaks of sinning will be stopp’d.
450
Quoth Ralpho, You mistake the matter;
For in all scruples of this nature,
No man includes himself, nor turns
The point upon his own concerns.
As no man of his own self catches
455
The itch, or amorous French aches
So no man does himself convince,
By his own doctrine, of his sins
And though all cry down self, none means
His ownself in a literal sense.
460
Beside, it is not only foppish,
But vile, idolatrous and Popish,
For one man, out of his own skin,
To ferk and whip another’s sin;
As pedants out of school-boys’ breeches
465
Do claw and curry their own itches.
But in this case it is prophane,
And sinful too, because in vain;
For we must take our oaths upon it,
You did the deed, when I have done it.
470
Quoth Hudibras, That’s answer’d soon
Give us the whip, we’ll lay it on.
Quoth Ralpho, That we may swear true,
’Twere properer that I whipp’d you
For when with your consent ’tis done,
475
The act is really your own.
Quoth Hudibras, It is in vain
(I see) to argue ’gainst the grain;
Or, like the stars, incline men to
What they’re averse themselves to do:
480
For when disputes are weary’d out,
’Tis interest still resolves the doubt
But since no reason can confute ye,
I’ll try to force you to your duty
For so it is, howe’er you mince it;
485
As ere we part, I shall evince it
And curry (if you stand out) whether
You will or no, your stubborn leather.
Canst thou refuse to hear thy part
I’ th’ publick work, base as thou art?
490
To higgle thus for a few blows,
To gain thy Knight an op’lent spouse
Whose wealth his bowels yearn to purchase,
Merely for th’ interest of the Churches;
And when he has it in his claws,
495
Will not be hide-bound to the Cause?
Nor shalt thou find him a Curmudgin,
If thou dispatch it without grudging.
If not, resolve, before we go,
That you and I must pull a crow.
500
Y’ had best (quoth Ralpho) as the ancients
Say wisely, Have a care o’ th’ main chance,
And look before you ere you leap;
For as you sow, y’ are like to reap:
And were y’ as good as George-a-Green,
505
I shall make bold to turn agen
Nor am I doubtful of the issue
In a just quarrel, and mine is so.
Is’t fitting for a man of honour
To whip the Saints, like Bishop Bonner?
510
A Knight t’ usurp the beadle’s office,
For which y’ are like to raise brave trophies.
But I advise you (not for fear,
But for your own sake) to forbear;
And for the Churches, which may chance,
At this the Knight grew high in chafe,
And staring furiously on Ralph,
He trembled, and look’d pale with ire
Like ashes first, then red as fire.
Have I (quoth he) been ta’en in fight,
545
And for so many moons lain by’t,
And, when all other means did fail,
Have been exchang’d for tubs of ale?
Not but they thought me worth a ransome
Much more consid’rable and handsome,
550
But for their own sakes, and for fear
They were not safe when I was there
Now to be baffled by a scoundrel,
An upstart sect’ry, and a mungrel;
Such as breed out of peccant humours,
555
Of our own Church, like wens or tumours,
And, like a maggot in a sore,
Would that which gave it life devour;
It never shall be done or said;
With that he seiz’d upon his blade;
560
And Ralpho too, as quick and bold,
Upon his basket-hilt laid hold,
With equal readiness prcpar’d
To draw, and stand upon his guard;
When both were parted on the sudden,
565
With hideous clamour, and a loud one
As if all sorts of noise had been
Contracted into one loud din;
Or that some member to be chosen,
Had got the odds above a thousand,
570
And by the greatness of its noise,
Prov’d fittest for his country’s choice.
This strange surprisal put the Knight
And wrathful Squire into a fright;
And though they stood prepar’d, with fatal
575
Impetuous rancour to join battel,
Both thought it was the wisest course
To wave the fight and mount to horse,
And to secure by swift retreating,
Themselves from danger of worse beating.
580
Yet neither of them would disparage,
By utt’ring of his mind, his courage,
Which made them stoutly keep their ground,
With horror and disdain wind-bound.
And now the cause of all their fear
585
By slow degrees approach’d so near,
They might distinguish different noise
Of horns, and pans, and dogs, and boys,
And kettle-drums, whose sullen dub
Sounds like the hooping of a tub.
590
But when the sight appear’d in view,
They found it was an antique show;
A triumph, that, for pomp and state,
Did proudest Romans emulate:
For as the aldermen of Rome
595
Their foes at training overcome,
And not enlarging territory,
(As some mistaken write in Story,)
Being mounted, in their best array,
Upon a carr, and who but they!
600
And follow’d with a world of tall-lads,
That merry ditties troll’d, and ballads,
Did ride with many a good-morrow,
Crying, Hey for our Town! through the Borough
So when this triumph drew so nigh
605
They might particulars descry,
They never saw two things so pat,
In all respects, as this and that.
First, he that led the cavalcade,
Wore a sow-gelder’s flagellate,
610
On which he blew as strong a levet
As well-fee’d lawyer on his breviate,
When over one another’s heads
They charge (three ranks at once) like Swedes,
Next pans and kettle, of all keys,
615
From trebles down to double base;
And after them, upon a nag,
That might pass for a forehand stag,
A cornet rode, and on his staff
A smock display’d did proudly wave.
620
Then bagpipes of the loudest drones,
With snuffling broken-winded tones,
Whose blasts of air, in pockets shut
Sound filthier than from the gut,
And make a viler noise than swine
625
In windy weather, when they whine.
Next one upon a pair of panniers,
Full fraught with that which for good manners
Shall here be nameless, mixt with grains,
Which he dispens’d among the swains,
630
And busily upon the crowd
At random round about bestow’d.
Then, mounted on a horned horse,
One bore a gauntlet and gilt spurs,
Ty’d to the pummel of a long sword
635
He held reverst, the point turn’d downward,
Next after, on a raw-bon’d steed,
The conqueror’s standard-bearer rid,
And bore aloft before the champion
A petticoat display’d, and rampant
640
Near whom the Amazon triumphant
Bestrid her beast, and on the rump on’t
Sat face to tail, and bum to bum,
The warrior whilom overcome;
Arm’d with a spindle and a distaff,
645
Which, as he rode, she made him twist off;
And when he loiter’d, o’er her shoulder
Chastis’d the reformado soldier.
Before the dame, and round about,
March’d whifflers and staffiers on foot,
Quoth he, In all my life, till now,
665
I ne’er saw so prophane a show.
It is a Paganish invention, —
Which heathen writers often mention:
And he who made it had read Goodwin,
Or Ross, or CAELIUS RHODOGINE,
670
With all the Grecians, speeds and stows,
That best describe those ancient shows;
And has observ’d all fit decorums
We find describ’d by old historians:
For as the Roman conqueror,
675
That put an end to foreign war,
Ent’ring the town in triumph for it,
So this insulting female brave,
Carries behind her here a slave:
680
And as the ancients long ago,
When they in field defy’d the foe,
Hung out their mantles della guerre,
So her proud standard-bearer here
Waves on his spear, in dreadful manner,
685
A Tyrian-petticoat for banner:
Still borne before the emperor.
And as, in antique triumphs, eggs
Were borne for mystical intrigues,
690
There’s one with truncheon, like a ladle,
That carries eggs too, fresh or addle;
And still at random, as he goes,
Among the rabble-rout bestows.
Quoth Ralpho, You mistake the matter;
695
For all th’ antiquity you smatter,
Is but a riding, us’d of course
When the grey mare’s the better horse;
When o’er the breeches greedy women
Fight to extend their vast dominion;
700
And in the cause impatient Grizel
Has drubb’d her Husband with bull’s pizzle,
And brought him under Covert-Baron,
To turn her vassal with a murrain;
When wives their sexes shift, like hares,
705
And ride their husbands like night-mares,
And they in mortal battle vanquish’d,
Are of their charter disenfranchis’d
And by the right of war, like gills,
Condemn’d to distaff, horns, and wheels:
710
For when men by their wives are cow’d,
Their horns of course are understood
Quoth Hudibras thou still giv’st sentence
Impertinently, and against sense.
Tis not the least disparagement
715
To be defeated by th’ event,
Nor to be beaten by main force;
That does not make a man the worse,
Although his shoulders with battoon
Be claw’d and cudgel’d to some tune.
720
A taylor’s ’prentice has no hard
Measure that’s bang’d with a true yard:
But to turn tail, or run away,
And without blows give up the day,
Or to surrender ere th’ assault,
725
That’s no man’s fortune, but his fault,
And renders men of honour less
Than all th’ adversity of success;
And only unto such this shew
Of horns and petticoats is due.
730
There is a lesser profanation,
Like that the Romans call’d ovation:
For as ovation was allow’d
For conquest purchas’d without blood,
So men decree these lesser shows
735
For victory gotten without blows,
By dint of sharp hard words, which some
Give battle with, and overcome.
These mounted in a chair-curule,
Which moderns call a cucking-stool,
740
March proudly to the river’s side,
And o’er the waves in triumph ride;
Like Dukes of Venice, who are said
The Adriatick Sea to wed;
And have a gentler wife than those
745
For whom the State decrees those shows,
But both are heathenish, and come
From th’ whores of Babylon and Rome;
And by the Saints should be withstood,
As Antichristian and lewd;
750
And as such, should now contribute
Our utmost struggling to prohibit.
This said, they both advanc’d, and rode
A dog-trot through the bawling crowd,
T’attack the leader, and still prest,
755
Till they approach’d him breast to breast
Then Hudibras, with face and hand,
Made signs for silence; which obtain’d,
What means (quoth he) this Devil’s precession
With men of orthodox profession?
760
’Tis ethnic and idolatrous,
From heathenism deriv’d to us,
Does not the Whore of Babylon ride
Upon her horned beast astride
Like this proud dame, who either is
765
A type of her, or she of this?
Are things of superstitious function
Fit to be us’d in Gospel Sun-shine?
It is an Antichristian opera,
Much us’d in midnight times of Popery,
770
Of running after self-inventions
Of wicked and profane intentions;
To scandalize that sex for scolding,
To whom the Saints are so beholden.
Women, who were our first Apostles
775
Without whose aid we had been lost else;
Women, that left no stone unturn’d
In which the Cause might he concern’d;
Quoth he, That man is sure to lose
That fouls his hands with dirty foes:
850
For where no honour’s to be gain’d,
’Tis thrown away in b’ing maintain’d.
’Twas ill for us we had to do
With so dishonourable a foe:
For though the law of arms doth bar
855
The use of venom’d shot in war,
Yet, by the nauseous smell, and noisome,
Their case-shot savours strong of poison;
And doubtless have been chew’d with teeth
Of some that had a stinking breath;
860
Else, when we put it to the push,
They have not giv’n us such a brush.
But as those pultroons, that fling dirt,
Do but defile, but cannot hurt,
So all the honour they have won,
865
Or we have lost, is much as one,
’Twas well we made so resolute
And brave retreat without pursuit;
For if we had not, we had sped
Much worse, to be in triumph led;
870
Than which the ancients held no state
Of man’s life more unfortunate.
But if this bold adventure e’er
Do chance to reach the widow’s ear,
It may, b’ing destin’d to assert
875
Her sex’s honour, reach her heart:
And as such homely treats (they say)
Portend good fortune, so this may.
vespasian being daub’d with dirt,
Was destin’d to the empire for’t;
880
And from a Scavenger did come
To be a mighty Prince in Rome
And why may not this foul address
Presage in love the same success
Then let us straight, to cleanse our wounds,
885
Advance in quest of nearest ponds,
And after (as we first design’d)
Swear I’ve perform’d what she enjoin’d.
15
19
413
in a town, &c.] The history of the Cobler had been attested by persons of good credit, who were upon the place when it was done.
548 Have been exchang’d, &c.] The knight
was kept prisoner in Exeter, and, after several exchanges
proposed, but none accepted of, was at last released
for a barrel of ale, as he often used to declare.
678Bore a slave with him in his chariot. ------ Et sibi Consul Me placeat, curru servus portatur eodem. [And it pleased the Consul to have me carried as a slave in his chariot]
683 Hung out, &c.] Tunica Coccinia solebat pridie
quam dimicandum esset, supra praetorium poni, quasi
admonito, & indicium futurae pugnae. [The praetors
wore scarlet tunics on the day before the battle,
for a warning, and a portent of the future. ] Lipsius
in Tacit. p. 56.
687
879 Vespasian being dawb’d, &c.] C. Caesar sucensens, propter curam verrendis viis non adhibitam, Luto jussit appleri congesto per milites in praetexte sinum. Sueton. in Vespas. C.5.
CANTO III.
------------------------------------------------- The Knight, with various Doubts possest, To win the Lady goes in quest Of Sidrophel, the Rosy-Crucian, To know the Dest’nies’ Resolution; With whom being met, they both chop Logick About the Science Astrologick, Till falling from Dispute to Fight, The Conj’rer’s worsted by the Knight. -------------------------------------------------
Doubtless the pleasure is as great
Of being cheated as to cheat;
As lookers-on feel most delight,
That least perceive a jugler’s slight;
And still the less they understand,
5
The more th’ admire his slight of hand.
Some with a noise, and greasy light,
Are snapt, as men catch larks by night;
Ensnar’d and hamper’d by the soul,
As nooses by their legs catch fowl
l0
Some with a med’cine, and receipt,
Are drawn to nibble at the bait;
And tho’ it be a two-foot trout,
’Tis with a single hair pull’d out.
Others believe no voice t’ an organ
15
So sweet as lawyer’s in his bar-gown,
Until with subtle cobweb-cheats
Th’are catch’d in knotted law, like nets;
In which, when once they are imbrangled,
The more they stir, the more they’re tangled;
20
And while their purses can dispute,
There’s no end of th’ immortal suit.
Others still gape t’ anticipate
The cabinet-designs of fate;
Apply to wizards, to foresee
25
What shall and what shall never be;
And, as those vultures do forebode,
Believe events prove bad or good:
A flam more senseless than the roguery
Of old aruspicy and aug’ry.
30
That out of garbages of cattle
Presag’d th’ events of truce or battle;
From flight of birds, or chickens pecking,
Success of great’st attempts would reckon:
Quoth he, In all my past adventures
I ne’er was set so on the tenters;
60
Or taken tardy with dilemma,
That ev’ry way I turn does hem me,
And with inextricable doubt
Besets my puzzled wits about:
For tho’ the dame has been my bail,
65
To free me from enchanted jail,
Yet as a dog, committed close
For some offence, by chance breaks loose,
And quits his clog, but all in vain,
He still draws after him his chain;
70
So, though my ankle she has quitted,
My heart continues still committed;
And like a bail’d and main-priz’d lover,
Altho’ at large, I am bound over;
And when I shall appear in court,
75
To plead my cause, and answer for’t,
Unless the judge do partial prove,
What will become of me and love?
For if in our account we vary,
Or but in circumstance miscarry;
80
Or if she put me to strict proof,
And make me pull my doublet off,
To shew, by evident record
Writ on my skin, I’ve kept my Word;
How can I e’er expect to have her,
85
Having demurr’d onto her favour?
But faith, and love, and honour lost,.
Shall be reduc’d t’ a Knight o’
th’ Post.
Beside, that stripping may prevent
What I’m to prove by argument,
90
And justify I have a tail
And that way, too, my proof may fail.
Oh that I cou’d enucleate,
And solve the problems of my fate
Or find, by necromantick art,
95
How far the dest’nies take my part
For if I were not more than certain
To win and wear her, and her fortune,
I’d go no farther in his courtship,
To hazard soul, estate, and worship
100
For though an oath obliges not
Where any thing is to be got,
(As thou last prov’d) yet ’tis profane,
And sinful, when men swear in vain.
Quoth Ralph, Not far from hence doth dwell
105
A cunning man, hight Sidrophel,
That deals in destiny’s dark counsels,
And sage opinions of the Moon sells;
To whom all people, far and near,
On deep importances repair;
110
When brass and pewter hap to stray,
And linen slinks out of the way;
When geese and pullen are seduc’d,
And sows of sucking-pigs are chows’d;
When cattle feel indisposition,
115
And need th’ opinion of physician;
When murrain reigns in hogs or sheep.
And chickens languish of the pip;
When yeast and outward means do fail,
And have no pow’r to work on ale:
120
When butter does refuse to come,
And love proves cross and humoursome:
To him with questions, and with urine,
They for discov’ry flock, or curing.
Quoth Hudibras, This Sidrophel
125
I’ve heard of, and should like it well,
If thou canst prove the Saints have freedom
To go to Sorc’rers when they need ’em.
Says Ralpho, There’s no doubt of that
Whose principles I quoted late,
130
Prove that the Godly may alledge
For any thing their Privilege;
And to the Dev’l himself may go,
If they have motives thereunto.
For, as there is a war between
135
The Dev’l and them, it is no sin,
If they by subtle stratagem
Make use of him, as he does them.
Has not this present Parliament
A
Fully impowr’d to treat about
Finding revolted witches out
And has not he, within a year,
Hang’d threescore of ’em in one shire?
Some only for not being drown’d,
145
And some for sitting above ground,
Whole days and nights, upon their breeches,
And feeling pain, were hang’d for witches.
And some for putting knavish tricks
Upon green geese and turky-chicks,
150
And pigs, that suddenly deceast
Of griefs unnat’ral, as he guest;
Who after prov’d himself a witch
And made a rod for his own breech.
Did not the Devil appear to martin
155
Luther in Germany for certain;
And wou’d have gull’d him with a trick,
But Martin was too politick?
Did he not help the
At Antwerp their Cathedral Church?
160
And tell them all they came to ask him
And speak i’ th’ Nun of LOUDON’s
belly?
Meet with the Parliament’s Committee
165
At Woodstock on a pers’nal treaty?
At sarum take a cavalier
Page 101
I’ th’ Cause’s service prisoner
As Withers, in immortal rhime,
Has register’d to after-time!
170
Do not nor great Reformers use
This Sidrophel to forebode news?
To write of victories next year,
And castles taken yet i’ th’ air
Of battles fought at sea, and ships
175
Sank two years hence, the last eclipse?
A total overthrow giv’n the King
In Cornwall, horse and foot, next Spring!
And has not he point-blank foretold
Whats’e’er the Close Committee would?
180
Made Mars and Saturn for the Cause
The moon for Fundamental Laws?
The Ram, the Bull, and Goat declare
Against the Book of Common-Pray’r?
The Scorpion take the Protestation,
185
And Bear engage for Reformation?
Made all the Royal Stars recant,
Compound and take the Covenant?
Quoth Hudibras, The case is clear,
The Saints may ’mploy a Conjurer,
190
As thou hast prov’d it by their practice;
No argument like matter of fact is;
And we are best of all led to
Men’s principles by what they do.
Then let us straight advance in quest
195
Of this profound Gymnosophist
And as the Fates and he advise,
Pursue or wave this enterprise,
This said, he turn’d about his steed,
And eftsoons on th’ adventure rid;
200
Where leave we him and Ralph a while,
And to the Conjurer turn our stile,
To let our reader understand
What’s useful of him before-hand.
He had been long t’wards mathematicks,
205
Optics, philosophy, and staticks,
Magick, horoscopy, astrology,
And was old dog at physiology
But as a dog that turns the spit
Bestirs himself, and plies his feet,
210
To climb the wheel, but all in vain,
His own weight brings him down again,
And still he’s in the self-same place
Where at his setting out h was
So in the circle of the arts
215
Did he advance his nat’ral parts,
Till falling back still, for retreat,
He fell to juggle, cant, and cheat:
For as those fowls that live in water
Are never wet, he did but smatter:
220
Whate’er he labour’d to appear,
His understanding still was clear
Yet none a deeper knowledge boasted,
Since old
Th’ Intelligible World he knew,
225
And all men dream on’t to be true;
That in this world there’s not a wart
That has not there a counterpart;
Nor can there on the face of ground
An individual beard be found,
230
That has not, in that foreign nation,
A fellow of the self-same fashion
Page 102
So cut, so colour’d, and so curl’d,
As those are in th’ Inferior World.
H’ had read DEE’s Prefaces before,
235
The Dev’l, and Euclid, o’er
and o’er;
And all the intrigues ’twixt him and Kelly,
LESCUS and th’ emperor, wou’d tell
ye;
But with the Moon was more familiar
Than e’er was almanack well-willer;
240
Her secrets understood so clear,
That some believ’d he had been there;
Knew when she was in the fittest mood
For cutting corns, or letting blood;
When for anointing scabs or itches,
245
Or to the bum applying leeches;
When sows and bitches may be spay’d,
And in what sign best cyder’s made:
Whether the wane be, or increase,
Best to set garlick, or sow pease:
250
Who first found out the Man i’ th’ Moon,
That to the ancients was unknown;
How many dukes, and earls, and peers,
Are in the planetary spheres;
Their airy empire and command,
255
Their sev’ral strengths by sea and land;
What factions th’ have, and what they drive
at
In public vogue, or what in private;
With what designs and interests
Each party manages contests.
260
He made an instrument to know
If the Moon shine at full or no;
That wou’d as soon as e’er she shone,
straight
Whether ’twere day or night demonstrate;
Tell what her d’meter t’ an inch is,
265
And prove that she’s not made of green cheese.
It wou’d demonstrate, that the Man in
The Moon’s a Sea Mediterranean;
And that it is no dog nor bitch,
That stands behind him at his breech,
270
But a huge Caspian Sea, or lake,
With arms, which men for legs mistake;
How large a gulph his tail composes,
And what a goodly bay his nose is;
How many German leagues by th’ scale
275
Cape Snout’s from Promontory Tail.
He made a planetary gin,
Which rats would run their own heads in,
And cause on purpose to be taken,
Without th’ expence of cheese or bacon.
280
With lute-strings he would counterfeit
Maggots that crawl on dish of meat:
Quote moles and spots on any place
O’ th’ body, by the index face:
Detect lost maiden-heads by sneezing,
285
Or breaking wind of dames, or pissing;
Cure warts and corns with application
Of med’cines to th’ imagination;
Fright agues into dogs, and scare
With rhimes the tooth-ach and catarrh;
290
Chace evil spirits away by dint
Of cickle, horse-shoe, hollow-flint;
Spit fire out of a walnut-shell,
Which made the Roman slaves rebel;
And fire a mine in China here
295
With sympathetic gunpowder.
He knew whats’ever’s to be known,
Page 103
But much more than he knew would own;
What med’cine ’twas that Paracelsus
Could make a man with, as he tells us;
300
What figur’d slates are best to make
On watry surface duck or drake;
What bowling-stones, in running race
Upon a board, have swiftest pace;
Whether a pulse beat in the black
305
List of a dappled louse’s back;
If systole or diastole move
Quickest when he’s in wrath or love
When two of them do run a race,
Whether they gallop, trot, or pace:
310
How many scores a flea will jump,
Of his own length, from head to rump;
Which
In vain, assay’d so long agon;
Whether his snout a perfect nose is,
315
And not an elephant’s proboscis
How many diff’rent specieses
Of maggots breed in rotten cheese
And which are next of kin to those
Engender’d in a chandler’s nose;
320
Or those not seen, but understood,
That live in vinegar and wood.
A paultry wretch he had, half-starv’d,
That him in place of Zany serv’d.
Hight Whachum, bred to dash and draw,
325
Not wine, but more unwholesome law
To make ’twixt words and lines huge gaps,
Wide as meridians in maps;
To squander paper, and spare ink,
And cheat men of their words, some think.
330
From this, by merited degrees,
He’d to more high advancement rise;
To be an under-conjurer,
A journeyman astrologer.
His business was to pump and wheedle,
335
And men with their own keys unriddle;
And make them to themselves give answers,
For which they pay the necromancers;
To fetch and carry intelligence,
Of whom, and what, and where, and whence,
340
And all discoveries disperse
Among th’ whole pack of conjurers
What cut-purses have left with them
For the right owners to redeem;
And what they dare not vent find out,
345
To gain themselves and th’ art repute;
Draw figures, schemes, and horoscopes,
Of Newgate, Bridewell, brokers’ shops,
Of thieves ascendant in the cart;
And find out all by rules of art;
350
Which way a serving-man, that’s run
With cloaths or money away, is gone:
Who pick’d a fob at holding forth;
And where a watch, for half the worth,
May be redeem’d; or stolen plate
355
Restor’d at conscionable rate.
Beside all this, he serv’d his master
In quality of poetaster;
And rhimes appropriate could make
To ev’ry month i’ th almanack
360
What terms begin and end could tell,
With their returns, in doggerel;
When the exchequer opes and shuts,
And sowgelder with safety cuts
Those two together long had liv’d,
In mansion prudently contriv’d;
400
Where neither tree nor house could bar
The free detection of a star
And nigh an ancient obelisk
On which was a written not in words,
405
But hieroglyphic mute of birds,
Many rare pithy saws concerning
The worth of astrologic learning.
From top of this there hung a rope,
To a which he fasten’d telescope;
410
The spectacles with which the stars
He reads in smallest characters.
It happen’d as a boy, one night,
Did fly his tarsel of a kite,
The strangest long-wing’d hawk that flies,
415
That, like a bird of Paradise,
Or herald’s martlet, has no legs,
Nor hatches young ones, nor lays eggs;
His train was six yards long, milk-white,
At th’ end of which there hung a light,
420
Inclos’d in lanthorn, made of paper,
That far off like a star did appear.
This Sidrophel by chance espy’d,
And with amazement staring wide,
Bless us! quoth he, what dreadful wonder
425
Is that appears in heaven yonder?
A comet, and without a beard!
Or star that ne’er before appear’d!
I’m certain ’tis not in the scrowl
Page 105
Of all those beasts, and fish, and fowl,
430
With which, like Indian plantations,
The learned stock the constellations
Nor those that draw for signs have bin
To th’ houses where the planets inn.
It must be supernatural,
435
That, shot i’ th’ air point-blank upright,
Was borne to that prodigious height,
That learn’d Philosophers maintain,
It ne’er came backwards down again;
440
But in the airy region yet
Hangs like the body of Mahomet
For if it be above the shade
That by the earth’s round bulk is made,
’Tis probable it may from far
445
Appear no bullet, but a star.
This said, he to his engine flew,
Plac’d near at hand, in open view,
And rais’d it ’till it levell’d
right
Against the glow-worm tail of kite,
450
Then peeping thro’, Bless us! (quoth he)
It is a planet, now I see
And, if I err not, by his proper
Figure, that’s like tobacco-stopper,
It should be Saturn. Yes, ’tis clear
455
’Tis Saturn; but what makes him there?
He’s got between the Dragon’s Tail
And farther Leg behind o’ th’ Whale.
Pray heav’n divert the fatal omen,
For ’tis a prodigy not common;
460
And can no less than the world’s end,
Or Nature’s funeral, portend.
With that he fell again to pry.
Thro’ perspective more wistfully,
When by mischance the fatal string,
465
That kept the tow’ring fowl on wing,
Breaking, down fell the star. Well shot,
Quoth Whachum, who right wisely thought
H’ had levell’d at a star, and hit it
But Sidrophel, more subtle-witted,
470
Cry’d out, What horrible and fearful
Portent is this, to see a star fall?
It threatens nature, and the doom
Will not be long before it come
When stars do fail, ’tis plain enough,
475
The day of judgment’s not far off;
And some of us find out by magick.
Then since the time we have to live
In this world’s shorten’d, let us strive
480
To make our best advantage of it,
And pay our losses with our profit.
This feat fell out not long before
The Knight, upon the forenam’d score,
In quest of Sidrophel advancing,
485
Was now in prospect of the mansion
Whom he discov’ring, turn’d his glass,
And found far off, ’twas Hudibras.
Whachum, (quoth he), look yonder, some
To try or use our art are come
490
The one’s the learned Knight: seek out,
And pump ’em what they come about.
Whachum advanc’d, with all submissness,
T’ accost em, but much more their bus’ness.
He held a stirrup, while the Knight
495
From leathern bare-bones did alight
And taking from his hand the bridle,
Approach’d the dark Squire to unriddle.
He gave him first the time o’ th’ day,
And welcom’d him, as he might say:
500
He ask’d him whence he came, and whither
Their bus’ness lay? Quoth Ralpho,
Hither.
Did you not lose? Quoth Ralpho, Nay.
Quoth Whachum, Sir, I meant your way!
Your Knight — Quoth Ralpho, Is a lover,
505
And pains intolerable doth suffer:
For lovers’ hearts are not their own hearts,
Nor lights, nor lungs, and so forth downwards.
What time, (quoth Ralpho), Sir? —
Too long
Three years it off and on has hung. —
510
Quoth he, I meant what time o’the day ’tis.
—
Quoth Ralpho, Between seven and eight ’tis.
Why then, (quoth Whachum) my small art
Tells me, the dame has a hard heart,
Or great estate. — Quoth Ralph, A
jointer, 515
Which makes him have so hot a mind t’her.
Mean while the Knight was making water,
Before he fell upon the matter;
Which having done, the Wizard steps in,
To give him suitable reception
520
But kept his bus’ness at a bay
Till Whachum put him in the way;
Who having now, by RALPHO’s light.
Expounded th’ errand of the Knight,
And what he came to know, drew near,
525
To whisper in the Conj’rer’s ear,
Which he prevented thus: What was’t,
Quoth he, that I was saying last,
Before these gentlemen arriv’d?
Quoth Whachum, Venus you retriev’d,
530
In opposition with Mars,
And no benigne friendly stars
T’ allay the effect. — Quoth Wizard,
So
In Virgo? Ha! — Quoth Whachum,
No.
Has Saturn nothing to do in it?
535
One-tenth of’s circle to a minute.
’Tis well, quoth he. — Sir, you’ll
excuse
This rudeness I am forc’d to use
It is a scheme and face of Heaven,
As the aspects are dispos’d this even,
540
I was contemplating upon
When you arriv’d; but now I’ve done,
Quoth Hudibras, If I appear
Unseasonable in coming here
At such a tone, to interrupt,
545
Your speculations, which I hop’d
Assistance from, and come to use,
’T is fit that I ask your excuse.
By no means, Sir, quoth Sidrophel;
The stars your coming did foretel:
550
I did expect you here, and knew,
Before you spake, your bus’ness too.
Quoth Hudibras, Make that appear,
And I shall credit whatsoe’er
You tell me after on your word,
555
Howe’er unlikely, or absurd.
You are in love, Sir, with a widow,
Quoth he, that does not greatly heed you,
And for three years has rid your wit
And passion without drawing bit:
560
And now your bus’ness is to know,
If you shall carry her or no.
Quoth Hudibras, You’re in the right;
But how the Devil you came by’t
I can’t imagine; for the Stars,
565
I’m sure, can tell no more than a horse;
Nor can their aspects (though you pore
Your eyes out on ’em) tell you more
Than th’ oracle of sieve and sheers,
That turns as certain as the spheres:
570
But if the Devil’s of your counsel,
Much may be done my noble Donzel;
And ’tis on his account I come,
To know from you my fatal doom.
Quoth Sidrophel, If you Suppose,
575
Sir Knight, that I am one of those,
I might suspect, and take the alarm,
Your bus’ness is but to inform;
But if it be, ’tis ne’er the near;
You have a wrong sow by the ear;
580
For I assure you, for my part,
I only deal by rules of art,
Such as are lawful, and judge by
Conclusions of Astrology:
But for the Dev’l, know nothing by him;
585
But only this, that I defy him.
Quoth he, Whatever others deem ye,
I understand your metonymy:
Your words of second-hand intention,
When things by wrongful names you mention;
590
The mystick sense of all your terms,
That are, indeed, but magick charms
To raise the Devil, and mean one thing,
And that is down-right conjuring;
And in itself more warrantable,
595
Than cheat, or canting to a rabble,
Or putting tricks upon the Moon,
Which by confed’racy are done.
Your ancient conjurers were wont
To make her from her sphere dismount.
600
And to their incantations stoop:
They scorn’d to pore thro’ telescope,
Or idly play at bo-peep with her,
To find out cloudy or fair weather,
Which ev’ry almanack can tell,
605
Perhaps, as learnedly and well,
As you yourself — Then, friend, I doubt
You go the furthest way about.
Makes but a hole in th’ earth to piss in,
610
And straight resolves all questions by’t,
And seldom fails to be i’th’ right.
The Rosy-Crucian way’s more sure
To bring the Devil to the lure;
Each of ’em has a sev’ral gin
615
To catch intelligences in.
Some by the nose with fumes trepan ’em,
As Dunstan did the Devil’s grannam;
Page 108
Others, with characters and words,
Catch ’em, as men in nets do birds;
620
And some with symbols, signs, and tricks,
Engrav’d with planetary nicks,
With their own influences will fetch ’em
Down from their orbs, arrest, and catch ’em;
Make ’em depose and answer to
625
All questions e’re they let them go.
Shut in the pummel of his sword,
That taught him all the cunning pranks
Of past and future mountebanks.
630
Kelly did all his feats upon
The Devil’s looking-glass, a stone;
Where playing with him at bo-peep,
He solv’d all problems ne’er so deep.
AGRIPPA kept a Stygian pug,
635
I’ th’ garb and habit of a dog,
That was his tutor, and the cur
Read to th’ occult philosopher,
And taught him subt’ly to maintain
All other sciences are vain.
640
To this, quoth SIDROPHELLO, Sir,
Agrippa was no conjurer,
Nor Paracelsus, no, nor Behmen;
Nor was the dog a Cacodaemon,
But a true dog, that would shew tricks
645
For th’ emperor, and leap o’er sticks;
Would fetch and carry; was more civil
Than other dogs, but yet no Devil;
And whatsoe’er he’s said to do,
He went the self-same way we go.
650
As for the Rosy-Cross Philosophers,
Whom you will have to be but sorcerers,
What they pretend to is no more,
Than trismegistus did before,
Pythagoras, old Zoroaster,
655
And APOLLONIUS their master;
To whom they do confess they owe
All that they do, and all they know.
Quoth Hudibras, Alas! what is’t t’
us,
Whether ’twas said by trismegistus,
660
If it be nonsense, false, or mystick,
Or not intelligible, or sophistick?
’Tis not antiquity, nor author,
That makes Truth Truth, altho’ Times daughter;
’Twas he that put her in the pit
665
Before he pull’d her out of it;
And as he eats his sons, just so
He feeds upon his daughters too.
Nor does it follow, ’cause a herald,
Can make a gentleman, scarce a year old,
670
To be descended of a race
Of ancient kings in a small space,
That we should all opinions hold
Authentic that we can make old.
Quoth Sidrophel, It is no part
675
Of prudence to cry down an art,
And what it may perform deny,
Because you understand not why
(As
To damn our whole art for eccentrick:)
680
For Who knows all that knowledge contains
Men dwell not on the tops of mountains,
But on their sides, or rising’s seat
Page 109
So ’tis with knowledge’s vast height.
Do not the hist’ries of all ages
685
Relate miraculous presages,
Of strange turns in the world’s affairs,
Foreseen b’ Astrologers, Soothsayers,
Chaldeans, learn’d Genethliacks,
And some that have writ almanacks?
690
Had pist all Asia under water,
And that a vine, sprung from her haunches,
O’erspread his empire with its branches:
And did not soothsayers expound it,
695
As after by th’ event he found it?
Did not the sun eclips’d foretel,
And, in resentment of his slaughter,
Look’d pale for almost a year after?
700
Put on his left shoe ’fore his right,
Had like to have been slain that day
By soldiers mutin’ing for pay.
Are there not myriads of this sort,
705
Which stories of all times report?
Is it not ominous in all countries
When crows and ravens croak upon trees?
The city walls an owl was seen
710
Did cause their clergy, with lustrations,
(Our Synod calls humiliations),
The round-fac’d prodigy t’avert
From doing town or country hurt
And if an owl have so much pow’r,
715
Why should not planets have much more,
That in a region far above
Inferior fowls of the air move,
And should see further, and foreknow
More than their augury below?
720
Though that once serv’d the polity
Of mighty states to govern by
And this is what we take in hand
By pow’rful art to understand
Which, how we have perform’d, all ages
725
Can speak th’ events of our presages
Have we not lately, in the Moon,
Found a New World, to the Old unknown?
Discover’d sea and land, Columbus
And Magellan cou’d never compass?
730
Made mountains with our tubes appear,
And cattle grazing on ’em there?
Quoth Hudibras, You lie so ope,
That I, without a telescope,
Can mind your tricks out, and descry
735
Where you tell truth, and where you lye:
For
anaxagoras, long agon,
Saw hills, as well as you, i’ th’ Moon;
And held the Sun was but a piece
Of red-hot ir’n, as big as Greece;
740
Believ’d the Heav’ns were made of stone,
Because the Sun had voided one;
And, rather than he would recant
Th’ opinion, suffer’d banishment.
But what, alas! is it to us,
745
Whether i’ th’ Moon men thus or thus
Do eat their Porridge, cut their corns,
Or whether they have tails or horns?
What trade from thence can you advance,
But what we nearer have from France?
750
What can our travellers bring home,
That is not to be learnt at Rome?
What politicks, or strange opinions,
That are not in our own dominions?
What science can he brought from thence,
755
In which we do not here commence?
What revelations, or religions,
That are not in our native regions?
Are sweating lanthorns, or screen-fans,
Made better there than th’ are in France?
760
Or do they teach to sing and play
O’ th’ gittar there a newer way?
Can they make plays there, that shall fit
The public humour, with less wit?
Write wittier dances, quainter shows,
765
Or fight with more ingenious blows?
Or does the man i’ th’ moon look big,
And wear a huger perriwig,
Shew in his gait or face more tricks,
Than our own native lunaticks?
770
And if w’ out-do him here at home,
What good of your design can come?
As wind i’ th’ hypocondries pent,
Is but a blast if downward sent,
But if it upward chance to fly,
775
Becomes new Light and Prophecy
So when your speculations tend
Above their just and useful end,
Although they promise strange and great
Discoveries of things far set,
780
They are but idle dreams and fancies,
And savour strongly of the ganzas.
Tell me but what’s the natural cause,
Why on a sign no painter draws
The full moon ever, but the half;
785
Resolve that with your JACOB’s staff;
Or why wolves raise a hubbub at her,
And dogs howl when she shines in water;
And I shall freely give my vote,
You may know something more remote.
790
At this deep Sidrophel look’d wise,
And staring round with owl-like eyes,
He put his face into a posture
Of sapience, and began to bluster:
For having three times shook his head
795
To stir his wit up, thus he said
Art has no mortal enemies,
Next ignorance, but owls and geese;
Those consecrated geese in orders,
That to the Capitol were warders;
800
And being then upon patrol,
With noise alone beat off the Gaul:
Or those Athenian Sceptic owls,
That will not credit their own souls;
Or any science understand,
805
Beyond the reach of eye or hand;
But meas’ring all things by their own
Knowledge, hold nothing’s to be known
Those wholesale criticks, that in coffee-
Houses cry down all philosophy,
These reasons (quoth the Knight) I grant
Are something more significant
860
Than any that the learned use
Upon this subject to produce;
And yet th’ are far from satisfactory,
T’ establish and keep up your factory.
Th’ Egyptians say, the Sun has twice
865
Shifted his setting and his rise
Twice has he risen in the west,
As many times set in the east;
But whether that be true or no,
The Dev’l any of you know.
870
And kept by circulation. up;
And, were’t not for their wheeling round,
They’d instantly fall to the ground:
As sage empedocles of old,
And from him modern authors hold.
875
Plato believ’d the Sun and Moon
Page 112
Below all other Planets run.
Some Mercury, some Venus, seat
Above the Sun himself in height.
Gainst what Copernicus maintain’d,
That, in twelve hundred years and odd,
The Sun had left its ancient road,
And nearer to time earth is come
’Bove fifty thousand miles from home:
885
Swore ’twas a most notorious flam;
And he that had so little shame
To vent such fopperies abroad,
Deserv’d to have his rump well claw’d;
Which Monsieur Bodin hearing, swore
890
That he deserv’d the rod much more,
That durst upon a truth give doom;
He knew less than the Pope of Rome.
Cardan believ’d great states depend
Upon the tip o’ th’ Bear’s tail’s
end; 895
That, as she whisk’d it t’wards the Sun,
Strow’d mighty empires up and down;
Which others say must needs be false,
Because your true bears have no tails.
Some say the Zodiack Constellations
900
Have long since chang’d their antique stations
Above a sign, and prove the same
In Taurus now once in the Ram;
Affirm the trigons chop’d and chang’d,
The wat’ry with the fiery rang’d:
905
Then how can their effects still hold
To be the same they were of old?
This, though the art were true, would make
Our modern soothsayers mistake:
910
And in one cause they tell more lies,
In figures and nativities,
Than th’ old
In so many hundred thousand years
Beside their nonsense in translating,
915
For want of accidence and Latin,
Like Idus, and Calendae, Englisht
The quarter-days by skilful linguist;
And yet with canting, sleight and, cheat,
’Twill serve their turn to do the feat;
920
Make fools believe in their foreseeing
Of things before they are in being
To swallow gudgeons ere th’ are catch’d;
And count their chickens ere th’ are hatch’d
Make them the constellations prompt,
925
And give ’em back their own accompt
But still the best to him that gives
The best price for’t, or best believes.
Some towns and cities, some, for brevity,
Have cast the ’versal world’s nativity,
930
And made the infant-stars confess,
Like fools or children, what they please.
Some calculate the hidden fates
Of monkeys, puppy-dogs, and cats
Some running-nags and fighting cocks,
935
Some love, trade, law-suits, and the pox;
Some take a measure of the lives
Of fathers, mothers, husbands, wives;
Make opposition, trine, and quartile,
Tell who is barren, and who fertile;
940
As if the planet’s first aspect
Page 113
The tender infant did infect
In soul and body, and instill
All future good, and future ill;
Which, in their dark fatalities lurking,
945
At destin’d periods fall a working;
And break out, like the hidden seeds
Of long diseases, into deeds,
In friendships, enmities, and strife,
And all the emergencies of life.
950
No sooner does he peep into
The world, but he has done his do;
Catch’d all diseases, took all physick
That cures or kills a man that is sick;
Marry’d his punctual dose of wives;
955
Is cuckolded, and breaks or thrives.
There’s but the twinkling of a star
Between a man of peace and war;
A thief and justice, fool and knave,
A huffing officer and a slave;
960
A crafty lawyer and a pick-pocket,
A great philosopher and a blockhead;
A formal preacher and a player,
A learn’d physician and manslayer.
As if men from the stars did suck
965
Old age, diseases, and ill-luck,
Wit, folly, honour, virtue, vice,
Trade, travel, women, claps, and dice;
And draw, with the first air they breathe,
Battle and murder, sudden death.
970
Are not these fine commodities
To be imported from the skies,
And vended here amongst the rabble,
For staple goods and warrantable?
In th’ other world to be restor’d?
Quoth Sidrophel, To let you know
You wrong the art, and artists too,
Since arguments are lost on those
That do our principles oppose,
980
I will (although I’ve done’t before)
Demonstrate to your sense once more,
And draw a figure, that shall tell you
What you, perhaps, forget befel you,
By way of horary inspection,
985
Which some account our worst erection.
With that he circles draws, and squares,
With cyphers, astral characters;
Then looks ’em o’er, to und’erstand
’em,
Although set down hob-nab, at random.
990
Quoth he, This scheme of th’ heavens set,
Discovers how in fight you met
At Kingston with a may-pole idol,
And that y’ were bang’d both back and
side well;
And though you overcame the bear,
995
The dogs beat you at Brentford fair;
Where sturdy butchers broke your noddle,
And handled you like a fop-doodle.
Quoth Hudibras, I now perceive
You are no conj’rer, by your leave;
1000
That
And forg’d to cheat such gulls as you.
Not true? quoth he; howe’er you vapour,
I can what I affirm make appear.
Whachum shall justify’t t’ your face,
1005
And prove he was upon the place.
He play’d the Saltinbancho’s part,
Transform’d t’ a Frenchman by my art
He stole your cloak, and pick’d your pocket,
Chows’d and caldes’d ye like a blockhead:
1010
And what you lost I can produce,
If you deny it, here i’ th’ house.
Quoth Hudibras, I do believe
That argument’s demonstrative.
Ralpho, bear witness; and go fetch us
1015
A constable to seize the wretches
For though th’ are both false knaves and cheats,
Impostors, jugglers, counterfeits,
I’ll make them serve for perpendiculars
As true as e’er were us’d by bricklayers.
1020
They’re guilty, by their own confessions,
Of felony, and at the sessions,
Upon the bench, I will so handle ’em,
That the
Shalt make all taylors yards of one
1025
Unanimous opinion,
A thing he long has vapour’d of,
But now shall wake it out of proof.
Quoth Sidrophel, I do not doubt
To find friends that will bear me out,
1030
Nor have I hazarded my art,
And neck, so long on the state’s part,
To be expos’d i’ th’ end to suffer
By such a braggadocio huffer.
Huffer! quoth Hudibras: this sword
1035
Shall down thy false throat craw that word.
Ralpho, make haste, and call an officer,
To apprehend this Stygian sophister,
Meanwhile I’ll hold ’em at a bay,
Lest he and Whachum run away.
1040
But Sidrophel who, from the aspect
Of Hudibras did now erect
A figure worse portenting far
Than that of a malignant star,
Believ’d it now the fittest moment
1045
To shun the danger that might come on’t,
While Hudibras was all alone,
And he and Whachum, two to one.
This being resolv’d, he spy’d, by chance,
Behind the door, an iron lance,
1050
That many a sturdy limb had gor’d,
And legs, and loins, and shoulders bor’d:
He snatch’d it up, and made a pass,
To make his way through Hudibras.
Whachum had got a fire-fork,
1055
With which he vow’d to do his work.
But Hudibras was well prepar’d,
And stoutly stood upon his guard:
He put by SIDROPHELLO’S thrust,
And in right manfully he rusht;
l060
The weapon from his gripe he wrung,
And laid him on the earth along.
Whachum his sea-coal prong threw by,
And basely turn’d his back to fly
But Hudibras gave him a twitch
1065
As quick as light’ning in the breech,
Just in the place where honour’s lodg’d,
As wise philosophers have judg’d;
Because a kick in that place more
Hurts honour than deep wounds before.
1070
Quoth Hudibras, The stars determine
You are my prisoners, base vermine!
Could they not tell you so as well
As what I came to know foretell?
By this what cheats you are we find,
1075
That in your own concerns are blind.
Your lives are now at my dispose,
To be redeem’d by fine or blows:
But who his honour wou’d defile,
To take or sell two lives so vile?
1080
I’ll give you quarter; but your pillage,
The conq’ring warrior’s crop and tillage,
Which with his sword he reaps and plows,
That’s mine, the law of arms allows.
This said, in haste, in haste he fell
1085
To rummaging of Sidrophel.
First, he expounded both his pockets,
And found a watch, with rings and lockets,
Which had been left with him t’ erect
A figure for, and so detect;
1090
A copper-plate, with almanacks
Engrav’d upon’t; with other knacks,
Of BOOKER’s LILLY’s, Sarah JIMMERS’,
And blank-schemes to discover nimmers;
A moon-dial, with Napier’s bones,
1095
And sev’ral constellation stones,
Engrav’d in planetary hours,
That over mortals had strange powers
To make ’em thrive in law or trade,
And stab or poison to evade;
1100
In wit or wisdom to improve,
And be victorious in love,
Whachum had neither cross nor pile;
His plunder was not worth the while;
All which the conq’rer did discompt,
1105
To pay for curing of his rump.
But Sidrophel, as full of tricks
As Rota-men of politicks,
Straight cast about to over-reach
Th’ unwary conqu’ror with a fetch,
1110
And make him clad (at least) to quit
His victory, and fly the pit,
Before the Secular Prince of Darkness
Arriv’d to seize upon his carcass?
And as a fox, with hot pursuit
1115
Chac’d thro’ a warren, casts about
To save his credit, and among
Dead vermin on a gallows hung,
And while the dogs run underneath,
Escap’d (by counterfeiting death)
1120
Not out of cunning, but a train
Of atoms justling in his brain,
As learn’d philosophers give out,
So SIDROPHELLO cast about,
And fell to’s wonted trade again,
1125
To feign himself in earnest slain:
First stretch’d out one leg, than another,
And seeming in his breath to smother
A broken sigh; quoth he, Where am I,
Alive or dead? or which way came I,
1130
Through so immense a space so soon
But now I thought myself in th’ Moon
And that a monster with huge whiskers,
More formidable than a Switzer’s,
My body through and through had drill’d,
1135
And Whachum by my side had kill’d:
Page 116
Had cross-examin’d both our hose,
And plunder’d all we had to lose.
Look, there he is; I see him now,
And feel the place I am run through:
1140
And there lies Whachum by my side
Stone dead, and in his own blood dy’d.
Oh! Oh! with that he fetch’d a groan,
And fell again into a swoon;
Shut both his eyes, and stopp’d his breath,
1145
And to the life out-acted death;
That Hudibras, to all appearing,
Believ’d him to be dead as herring.
He held it now no longer safe
To tarry the return of Ralph,
1150
But rather leave him in the lurch:
Thought he, he has abus’d our Church,
Refus’d to give himself one firk
To carry on the publick work;
Despis’d our Synod-men like dirt,
1155
And made their discipline his sport;
Divulg’d the secrets of their classes,
And their conventions prov’d high places;
Disparag’d their tythe-pigs as Pagan,
And set at nought their cheese and bacon;
1160
Rail’d at their Covenant, and jeer’d
Their rev’rend parsons to my beard:
For all which scandals, to be quit
At once, this juncture falls out fit,
I’ll make him henceforth to beware,
1165
And tempt my fury, if he dare.
He must at least hold up his hand,
By twelve freeholders to be scann’d;
Who, by their skill in palmistry,
Will quickly read his destiny;
1170
And make him glad to read his lesson,
Or take a turn for it at the session;
Unless his Light and Gifts prove truer
Then ever yet they did, I’m sure;
For if he scape with whipping now,
1175
’Tis more than he can hope to do;
And that will disengage my conscience
Of th’ obligation in his own sense,
I’ll make him now by force abide
What he by gentle means deny’d,
1180
To give my honour satisfaction,
And right the Brethren in the action.
This being resolv’d, with equal speed
And conduct he approach’d his steed,
And with activity unwont,
1185
Assay’d the lofty beast to mount;
Which once atchiev’d, he spurr’d his palfrey,
To get from th’ enemy, and Ralph, free
Left dangers, fears, and foes behind,
And beat, at least three lengths, the wind.
1190
140 A
159 Did he not help the
161
163
157 At Sarum, &c.] Withers has a long story, in doggerel, of a soldier in the King’s army, who being a prisoner at Salisbury, and drinking a health to the Devil upon his knees, was carried away by him through a single pane of glass.
224 Since old
513 Which
404
436
477
609
627
635 Agrippa kept &c.] Cornelius Agrippa had a dog which was suspected to be a spirit, for some tricks he was wont to do beyond the capacity of a dog, as it was thought; but the author of Magia Adamica has taken a great deal of pains to vindicate both the doctor and the dog from the aspersion, in which he has shewn a very great respect and kindness for them both.
679 As
691
697
701
709
737 For
Anaxagoras, &c.] Anaxagoras affirmabat Solem candens Ferrum esse, & Peloponneso majorem: Lunam Habitacula in se habere, & Colles, & Valles. Fertur dixisse Coelum omne ex Lapidibus esse compositum; Damnatus & in exilium pulsus est, quod impie Solem candentem luminam esse dixisset. [Anaxogaras stated that the sun was made of white-hot iron, and bigger than the Peloponnese: the moon had buildings, and hills, and valleys. He was so carried away that he said that the whole sky was made of stone. He was condemned and driven into exile, for speaking impiously about the pure white light of the sun] — Diog. Laert. in Anaxag. p. 11, 13.
865 Th’ Egyptians say &c.] Egyptii decem
millia Annorum & amplius recensent; & observatum est
in hoc tanto Spatio, bis mutata esse Loca Ortuum &
Occasuum Solis, ita ut Sol bis ortus sit ubi nunc
occidit, & bis descenderit ubi nunc oritur. [The Egyptians
have records for ten thousand years and more, and
it has been observed that during this space of time,
the rising and setting places of the sun have changed
twice, so that twice the sun has risen where it now
sets, and twice set where it now rises] —
Phil. Melanct. Lib. 1 Pag. 60.
871
877 Plato believ’d, &c.] Plato Solem & Lunam
caeteris Planetis inferiores esse putavit. [Plato
believed that the Sun and Moon were lower than the
other planets]— G. Gunnin in Cosmog.
L. 1. p. 11.
881
895 Cardan believ’d, &c.] Putat Cardanus, ab extrema Cauda Halices seu Majoris Ursae omne magnum Imperium pendere.[Cardanus believed that the fate of every great empire depended on the end of the tail of the Thumb or Great Bear] — Idem p. 325.
913
975
1001
1024 That the
------------------------- Ecce Iterum Crispinus.—– -------------------------
Well! Sidrophel, though ’tis in vain
To tamper with your crazy brain,
Without trepanning of your skull
As often as the moon’s at full
‘Tis not amiss, e’re y’ are giv’n
o’er, 5
To try one desp’rate med’cine more
For where your case can be no worse,
The desp’rat’st is the wisest course.
Is’t possible that you, whose ears
Are of the tribe of Issachar’s,
10
And might (with equal reason) either,
For merit, or extent of leather,
With William PRYN’S, before they were
Retrench’d and crucify’d, compare,
Shou’d yet be deaf against a noise
15
So roaring as the publick voice
That speaks your virtues free, and loud,
And openly, in ev’ry crowd,
As, loud as one that sings his part
T’ a wheel-barrow or turnip-cart,
20
Or your new nick-nam’d old invention
To cry green-hastings with an engine;
(As if the vehemence had stunn’d,
And turn your drum-heads with the sound;)
And ’cause your folly’s now no news,
25
But overgrown, and out of use,
Persuade yourself there’s no such matter,
But that ’tis vanish’d out of nature;
When folly, as it grows in years,
The more extravagant appears;
30
For who but you could be possest
With so much ignorance, and beast,
That neither all mens’ scorn and hate,
Nor being laugh’d and pointed at,
Nor bray’d so often in a mortar,
35
Can teach you wholesome sense and nurture;
But (like a reprobate) what course
Soever’s us’d, grow worse and worse
Can no transfusion of the blood,
CANTO I.
------------------------------------------------- The Knight and Squire resolve, at once, The one the other to renounce. They both approach the Lady’s Bower; The Squire t’inform, the Knight to woo her. She treats them with a Masquerade, By Furies and Hobgoblins made; From which the Squire conveys the Knight, And steals him from himself, by Night. -------------------------------------------------
’Tis true, no lover has that pow’r
T’ enforce a desperate amour,
As he that has two strings t’ his bow,
And burns for love and money too;
For then he’s brave and resolute,
5
Disdains to render in his suit,
Has all his flames and raptures double,
And hangs or drowns with half the trouble,
While those who sillily pursue,
The simple, downright way, and true,
10
Make as unlucky applications,
And steer against the stream their passions.
Some forge their mistresses of stars,
And when the ladies prove averse,
And more untoward to be won
15
Than by Caligula the Moon,
Cry out upon the stars, for doing
Ill offices to cross their wooing;
When only by themselves they’re hindred,
For trusting those they made her kindred;
20
And still, the harsher and hide-bounder
The damsels prove, become the fonder.
For what mad lover ever dy’d
To gain a soft and gentle bride?
Or for a lady tender-hearted,
25
In purling streams or hemp departed?
Leap’d headlong int’ Elysium,
Through th’ windows of a dazzling room?
But for some cross, ill-natur’d dame,
Page 123
The am’rous fly burnt in his flame.
30
This to the Knight could be no news,
With all mankind so much in use;
Who therefore took the wiser course,
To make the most of his amours,
Resolv’d to try all sorts of ways,
35
As follows in due time and place
No sooner was the bloody fight,
Between the Wizard, and the Knight,
With all th’ appurtenances, over,
But he relaps’d again t’ a lover;
40
As he was always wont to do,
When h’ had discomfited a foe
And us’d the only antique philters,
Deriv’d from old heroic tilters.
But now triumphant, and victorious,
45
He held th’ atchievement was too glorious
For such a conqueror to meddle
With petty constable or beadle,
Or fly for refuge to the Hostess
Of th’ Inns of Court and Chancery, Justice,
Who might, perhaps reduce his cause
50
To th’
Where none escape, but such as branded
With red-hot irons have past bare-handed;
And, if they cannot read one verse
I’ th’ Psalms, must sing it, and that’s
worse. 55
He therefore judging it below him,
To tempt a shame the Devil might owe him,
Resolv’d to leave the Squire for bail
And mainprize for him to the gaol,
To answer, with his vessel, all,
60
That might disastrously befall;
And thought it now the fittest juncture
To give the Lady a rencounter,
T’ acquaint her ’with his expedition,
65
And conquest o’er the fierce Magician;
Describe the manner of the fray,
And show the spoils he brought away,
His bloody scourging aggravate,
The number of his blows, and weight,
70
All which might probably succeed,
And gain belief h’ had done the deed,
Which he resolv’d t’ enforce, and spare
No pawning of his soul to swear,
But, rather than produce his back,
75
To set his conscience on the rack,
And in pursuance of his urging
Of articles perform’d and scourging,
And all things else, his part,
Demand deliv’ry of her heart,
80
Her goods, and chattels, and good graces,
And person up to his embraces.
Thought he, the ancient errant knights
Won all their ladies hearts in fights;
And cut whole giants into fritters,
85
To put them into amorous twitters
Whose stubborn bowels scorn’d to yield
Until their gallants were half kill’d
But when their bones were drub’d so sore
They durst not woo one combat more,
90
The ladies hearts began to melt,
Subdu’d by blows their lovers felt.
So
At once wound bulls and ladies’ fancies;
And he acquires the noblest spouse
95
That widows greatest herds of cows:
Then what may I expect to do,
Wh’ have quell’d so vast a buffalo?
Mean while, the Squire was on his way
The Knight’s late orders to obey;
100
Who sent him for a strong detachment
Of beadles, constables, and watchmen,
T’ attack the cunning-man fur plunder,
Committed falsely on his lumber;
When he, who had so lately sack’d
105
The enemy, had done the fact;
Had rifled all his pokes and fobs
Of gimcracks, whims, and jiggumbobs,
When he, by hook or crook, had gather’d,
And for his own inventions father’d
110
And when they should, at gaol delivery,
Unriddle one another’s thievery,
Both might have evidence enough,
To render neither halter proof.
He thought it desperate to tarry,
115
And venture to be accessary
But rather wisely slip his fetters,
And leave them for the Knight, his betters.
He call’d to mind th’ unjust, foul play
He wou’d have offer’d him that day,
120
To make him curry his own hide,
Which no beast ever did beside,
Without all possible evasion,
But of the riding dispensation;
And therefore much about the hour
125
The Knight (for reasons told before)
Resolv’d to leave them to the fury
Of Justice, and an unpack’d Jury,
The Squire concurr’d t’ abandon him,
And serve him in the self-same trim;
130
T’ acquaint the Lady what h’ had done,
And what he meant to carry on;
What project ’twas he went about,
When Sidrophel and he fell out;
His firm and stedfast Resolution,
135
To swear her to an execution;
To pawn his
And bribe the Devil himself to carry her;
In which both dealt, as if they meant
Their Party-Saints to represent,
140
Who never fail’d upon their sharing
In any prosperous arms-bearing
To lay themselves out to supplant
Each other Cousin-German Saint.
But, ere the Knight could do his part,
145
The Squire had got so much the start,
H’ had to the Lady done his errand,
And told her all his tricks afore-hand.
Just as he finish’d his report,
The Knight alighted in the court;
150
And having ty’d his beast t’ a pale,
And taking time for both to stale,
He put his band and beard in order,
The sprucer to accost and board her;
And now began t’ approach the door,
155
When she, wh’ had spy’d him out before
Convey’d th’ informer out of sight,
And went to entertain the Knight
With whom encount’ring, after longees
Of humble and submissive congees,
160
And all due ceremonies paid,
He strok’d his beard, and thus he said:
Madam, I do, as is my duty,
Honour the shadow of your shoe-tye;
And now am come to bring your ear
165
A present you’ll be glad to hear:
At least I hope so: the thing’s done,
Or may I never see the sun;
For which I humbly now demand
Performance at your gentle hand
170
And that you’d please to do your part,
As I have done mine, to my smart.
With that he shrugg’d his sturdy back
As if he felt his shoulders ake.
But she, who well enough knew what
175
(Before he spoke) he would be at,
Pretended not to apprehend
The mystery of what he mean’d;.
And therefore wish’d him to expound
His dark expressions, less profound.
180
Madam, quoth he, I come to prove
How much I’ve suffer’d for your love,
Which (like your votary) to win,
I have not spar’d my tatter’d skin
And for those meritorious lashes,
185
To claim your favour and good graces.
Quoth she, I do remember once
I freed you from th’ inchanted sconce;
And that you promis’d, for that favour,
To bind your back to good behaviour,
190
And, for my sake and service, vow’d
To lay upon’t a heavy load,
And what ‘twould bear t’ a scruple prove,
As other Knights do oft make love
Which, whether you have done or no,
195
Concerns yourself, not me, to know.
But if you have, I shall confess,
Y’ are honester than I could guess.
Quoth he, if you suspect my troth,
I cannot prove it but by oath;
200
And if you make a question on’t,
I’ll pawn my soul that I have done’t;
And he that makes his soul his surety,
I think, does give the best security.
Quoth she, Some say, the soul’s secure
205
Against distress and forfeiture
Is free from action, and exempt
From execution and contempt;
And to be summon’d to appear
In th’ other world’s illegal here;
210
And therefore few make any account
Int’ what incumbrances they run’t
For most men carry things so even
Between this World, and Hell, and Heaven,
Without the least offence to either,
215
They freely deal in all together;
And equally abhor to quit
This world for both or both for it;
And when they pawn and damn their souls,
They are but pris’ners on paroles.
220
For that (quoth he) ’tis rational,
Th’ may be accountable in all:
For when there is that intercourse
Between divine and human pow’rs,
That all that we determine here
225
Commands obedience every where,
When penalties may be commuted
For fines or ears, and executed
It follows, nothing binds so fast
As souls in pawn and mortgage past
230
For oaths are th’ only tests and seals
Of right and wrong, and true and false,
And there’s no other way to try
The doubts of law and justice by.
(Quoth she) What is it you would swear
235
There’s no believing till I hear
For, till they’re understood all tales
(Like nonsense) are not true nor false.
(Quoth he) When I resolv’d t’ obey
What you commanded th’ other day,
240
And to perform my exercise,
(As schools are wont) for your fair eyes,
T’ avoid all scruples in the case,
I went to do’t upon the place.
But as the Castle is inchanted
245
By Sidrophel the Witch and haunted
By evil spirits, as you know,
Who took my Squire and me for two,
Before I’d hardly time to lay
My weapons by, and disarray
250
I heard a formidable noise,
Loud as the
That roar’d far off, Dispatch and strip,
I’m ready with th’ infernal whip,
That shall divest thy ribs from skin,
255
To expiate thy ling’ring sin.
Th’ hast broken perfidiously thy oath,
And not perform’d thy plighted troth;
But spar’d thy renegado back,
Where th’ hadst so great a prize at stake;
260
Which now the fates have order’d me
For penance and revenge to flea,
Unless thou presently make haste:
Time is, time was: And there it ceas’d.
With which, though startled, I confess,
265
Yet th’ horror of the thing was less
Than th’ other dismal apprehension
Of interruption or prevention;
And therefore, snatching up the rod,
I laid upon my back a load;
270
Resolv’d to spare no flesh and blood,
To make my word and honour good;
Till tir’d, and making truce at length,
For new recruits of breath and strength,
I felt the blows still ply’d as fast
275
As th’ had been by
In raptures of platonick lashing,
And chaste contemplative bardashing;
When facing hastily about,
To stand upon my guard and scout,
280
I found th’ infernal Cunning-man,
And th’ under-witch, his Caliban,
With scourges (like the Furies) arm’d,
That on my outward quarters storm’d.
In haste I snatch’d my weapon up,
285
And gave their hellish rage a stop;
Call’d thrice upon your name, and fell
Courageously on Sidrophel;
Who, now transform’d himself a bear,
Began to roar aloud, and tear;
290
When I as furiously press’d on,
My weapon down his throat to run;
Laid hold on him; but he broke loose,
And turn’d himself into a goose;
Div’d under water, in a pond,
295
To hide himself from being found.
In vain I sought him; but, as soon
As I perceiv’d him fled and gone,
Prepar’d with equal haste and rage,
His Under-sorcerer t’ engage.
Page 127
300
But bravely scorning to defile
My sword with feeble blood and vile,
I judg’d it better from a quick-
Set hedge to cut a knotted stick,
With which I furiously laid on
305
Till, in a harsh and doleful tone,
It roar’d, O hold for pity, Sir
I am too great a sufferer,
Abus’d, as you have been, b’ a witch,
But conjur’d into a worse caprich;
310
Who sends me out on many a jaunt,
Old houses in the night to haunt,
For opportunities t’ improve
Designs of thievery or love;
With drugs convey’d in drink or meat,
315
All teats of witches counterfeit;
Kill pigs and geese with powder’d glass,
And make it for enchantment pass;
With cow-itch meazle like a leper,
And choak with fumes of guiney pepper;
320
Make leachers and their punks with dewtry,
Commit fantastical advowtry;
Bewitch
Stark staring mad with manicon;
Believe mechanick Virtuosi
325
Can raise ’em mountains in POTOSI;
And, sillier than the antick fools,
Take treasure for a heap of coals:
Seek out for plants with signatures,
To quack of universal cures:
330
With figures ground on panes of glass
Make people on their heads to pass;
And mighty heaps of coin increase,
Reflected from a single piece,
To draw in fools, whose nat’ral itches
335
Incline perpetually to witches;
And keep me in continual fears,
And danger of my neck and ears;
When less delinquents have been scourg’d,
And hemp on wooden anvil forg’d,
340
Which others for cravats have worn
About their necks, and took a turn.
I pity’d the sad punishment
The wretched caitiff underwent,
And left my drubbing of his bones,
345
Too great an honour for pultrones;
For Knights are bound to feel no blows
From paultry and unequal foes,
Who, when they slash, and cut to pieces,
Do all with civilest addresses:
350
Their horses never give a blow,
But when they make a leg, and bow.
I therefore spar’d his flesh, and prest him
About the witch with many a. question.
Quoth he, For many years he drove
355
A kind of broking-trade in love;
Employ’d in all th’ intrigues, and trust
Of feeble, speculative lust:
Procurer to th’ extravagancy,
And crazy ribaldry of fancy,
360
By those the Devil had forsook,
As things below him to provoke.
But b’ing a virtuoso, able
To smatter, quack, and cant, and dabble,
He held his talent most adroit
365
For any mystical exploit;
As others of his tribe had done,
While thus the Lady talk’d, the Knight
Turn’d th’ outside of his eyes to white;
480
(As men of inward light are wont
To turn their opticks in upon ’t)
He wonder’d how she came to know
What he had done, and meant to do;
Held up his affidavit-hand,
485
As if h’ had been to be arraign’d;
Cast t’wards the door a look,
In dread of Sidrophel, and spoke:
Madam, if but one word be true
Of all the Wizard has told you,
490
Or but one single circumstance
In all th’ apocryphal romance,
May dreadful earthquakes swallow down
This vessel, that is all your own;
Or may the heavens fall, and cover
495
These reliques of your constant lover.
You have provided well, quoth she,
(I thank you) for yourself and me,
And shown your presbyterian wits
Jump punctual with the Jesuits;
500
A most compendious way, and civil,
At once to cheat the world, the Devil,
And Heaven and Hell, yourselves, and those
On whom you vainly think t’ impose.
Why then (quoth he) may Hell surprize —
505
That trick (said she) will not pass twice:
I’ve learn’d how far I’m to believe
Your pinning oaths upon your sleeve.
But there’s a better way of clearing
What you would prove than downright swearing:
510
For if you have perform’d the feat,
The blows are visible as yet,
Enough to serve for satisfaction
Of nicest scruples in the action:
And if you can produce those knobs,
515
Although they’re but the witch’s drubs,
I’ll pass them all upon account,
As if your natural self had done’t
Provided that they pass th’ opinion
Of able juries of old women
520
Who, us’d to judge all matter of facts
For bellies, may do so for backs,
Madam, (quoth he,) your love’s a million;
To do is less than to be willing,
As I am, were it in my power,
525
T’ obey, what you command, and more:
But for performing what you bid,
I thank you as much as if I did.
You know I ought to have a care
To keep my wounds from taking air:
530
For wounds in those that are all heart,
Are dangerous in any part.
I find (quoth she) my goods and chattels
Are like to prove but mere drawn battels;
For still the longer we contend,
535
We are but farther off the end.
But granting now we should agree,
What is it you expect from me?
Your plighted faith (quoth he) and word
You past in heaven on record,
540
Where all contracts, to have and t’ hold,
Are everlastingly enroll’d:
And if ’tis counted treason here
To raze records, ’tis much more there.
Quoth she, There are no bargains driv’n,
545
Or marriages clapp’d up, in Heav’n,
And that’s the reason, as some guess,
There is no heav’n in marriages;
Two things that naturally press
Too narrowly to be at ease.
550
Their bus’ness there is only love,
Which marriage is not like t’ improve:
Love, that’s too generous to abide
To be against its nature ty’d;
Or where ’tis of itself inclin’d,
555
It breaks loose when it is confin’d;
And like the soul, it’s harbourer.
Debarr’d the freedom of the air,
Disdains against its will to stay,
But struggles out, and flies away;
560
And therefore never can comply
mandrake and the wife,
755
Both bury’d (like themselves) alive.
Quoth he, These reasons are but strains
Of wanton, over-heated brains
Which ralliers, in their wit, or drink,
Do rather wheedle with than think
760
Man was not man in paradise,
Until he was created twice,
And had his better half, his bride,
Carv’d from the original, his side,
T’ amend his natural defects,
765
And perfect his recruited sex;
Inlarge his breed at once, and lessen
The pains and labour of increasing,
By changing them for other cares,
As by his dry’d-up paps appears.
770
His body, that stupendous frame,
Of all the world the anagram
Is of two equal parts compact,
In shape and symmetry exact,
Of which the left and female side
775
Is to the manly right a bride;
Both join’d together with such art,
That nothing else but death can part.
Those heav’nly attracts of yours, your eyes,
And face, that all the world surprize,
780
That dazzle all that look upon ye,
And scorch all other ladies tawny,
Those ravishing and charming graces
Are all made up of two half faces,
That in a mathematick line,
785
Like those in other heavens, join,
Of which if either grew alone,
T’ would fright as much to look upon:
And so would that sweet bud your lip,
Without the other’s fellowship.
790
Our noblest senses act by pairs;
Two eyes to see; to hear, two ears;
Th’ intelligencers of the mind,
To wait upon the soul design’d,
But those that serve the body alone,
795
Are single, and confin’d to one.
The world is but two parts, that meet
And close at th’ equinoctial fit;
And so are all the works of nature,
Stamp’d with her signature on matter,
800
Which all her creatures, to a leaf,
Or smallest blade of grass receive;
All which sufficiently declare,
How entirely marriage is her care,
The only method that she uses
805
In all the wonders she produces:
And those that take their rules from her,
Can never be deceiv’d, nor err.
For what secures the civil life,
But pawns of children, and a wife?
810
That lie like hostages at stake,
To pay for all men undertake;
To whom it is as necessary
As to be born and breathe, to marry;
So universal all mankind,
815
In nothing else, is of one mind.
For in what stupid age, or nation,
Was marriage ever out of fashion?
Unless among the
Or cloister’d friars, and vestal nuns;
820
Or Stoicks, who to bar the freaks
And loose excesses of the sex,
Prepost’rously wou’d have all women
Turn’d up to all the world in common.
Page 135
Though men would find such mortal feuds,
825
In sharing of their publick goods,
’Twould put them to more charge of lives,
Than they’re supply’d with now by wives;
Until they graze, and wear their clothes,
As beasts do, of their native growths:
830
For simple wearing of their horns
Will not suffice to serve their turns.
For what can we pretend t’ inherit,
Unless the marriage-deed will bear it?
Could claim no right, to lands or rents,
835
But for our parents’ settlements;
Had been but younger sons o’ th’ earth,
Debarr’d it all, but for our birth.
What honours or estates of peers,
Cou’d be preserv’d but by their heirs
840
And what security maintains
Their right and title, but the banes?
What crowns could be hereditary,
If greatest monarchs did not marry.
And with their consorts consummate
845
Their weightiest interests of state?
For all the amours of princes are
But guarantees of peace or war,
Or what but marriage has a charm
The rage of empires to disarm,
850
Make blood and desolation cease,
And fire and sword unite in peace,
When all their fierce contest for forage
Conclude in articles of marriage?
Nor does the genial bed provide
855
Less for the int’rests of the bride;
Who else had not the least pretence
T’ as much as due benevolence;
Could no more title take upon her
To virtue, quality, and honour.
860
Than ladies-errant, unconfin’d,
And feme-coverts t’ all mankind
All women would be of one piece,
The virtuous matron and the miss;
The nymphs of chaste Diana’s train,
865
The same with those in
But for the difference marriage makes
’Twixt wives and ladies of the lakes;
Besides the joys of place and birth,
The sex’s paradise on earth;
870
A privilege so sacred held,
That none will to their mothers yield;
But rather than not go before,
Abandon Heaven at the door.
And if th’ indulgent law allows
875
A greater freedom to the spouse,
The reason is, because the wife
Runs greater hazards of her life;
Is trusted with the form and matter
Of all mankind by careful nature;
880
Where man brings nothing but the stuff
She frames the wond’rous fabric of;
Who therefore, in a streight, may freely
Demand the clergy of her belly,
And make it save her the same way
885
It seldom misses to betray;
Unless both parties wisely enter
Into the liturgy indenture,
And though some fits of small contest
Sometimes fall out among the best,
Page 136
890
That is no more than ev’ry lover
Does from his hackney-lady suffer;
That makes no breach of faith and love,
But rather (sometimes) serves t’ improve.
For as in running, ev’ry pace
895
Is but between two legs a race,
In which both do their uttermost
To get before, and win the post,
Yet when they’re at their race’s ends,
They’re still as kind and constant friends,
900
And, to relieve their weariness,
By turns give one another ease;
So all those false alarms of strife
Between the husband and the wife,
And little quarrels, often prove
905
To be but new recruits of love;
When those wh’ are always kind or coy,
In time must either tire or cloy.
Nor are their loudest clamours more,
Than as they’re relish’d, sweet or sour;
910
Like musick, that proves bad or good;
According as ’tis understood.
In all amours, a lover burns
With frowns as well as smiles by turns;
And hearts have been as aft with sullen
915
As charming looks surpriz’d and stolen.
Then why should more bewitching clamour
Some lovers not as much enamour?
For discords make the sweetest airs
And curses are a kind of pray’rs;
920
Too slight alloys for all those grand
Felicities by marriage gain’d.
For nothing else has pow’r to settle
Th’ interests of love perpetual;
An act and deed, that that makes one heart
925
Becomes another’s counter-part,
And passes fines on faith and love,
Inroll’d and register’d above,
To seal the slippery knots of vows,
Which nothing else but death can loose.
930
And what security’s too strong,
To guard that gentle heart from wrong,
That to its friend is glad to pass
Itself away, and all it has;
And, like an anchorite, gives over
935
This world for th’ heaven of lover?
I grant (quoth she) there are some few
Who take that course, and find it true
But millions whom the same does sentence
To heav’n b’ another way —
repentance. 940
Love’s arrows are but shot at rovers;
Though all they hit, they turn to lovers;
And all the weighty consequents
Depend upon more blind events,
Than gamesters, when they play a set
945
With greatest cunning at piquet,
Put out with caution, but take in
They know not what, unsight, unseen,
For what do lovers, when they’re fast
In one another’s arms embrac’t,
950
But strive to plunder, and convey
Each other, like a prize, away?
To change the property of selves,
As sucking children are by elves?
And if they use their persons so,
955
What will they to their fortunes do?
Page 137
Their fortunes! the perpetual aims
Of all their extasies and flames.
For when the money’s on the book,
And, All my worldly goods — but spoke,
960
(The formal livery and seisin
That puts a lover in possession,)
To that alone the bridegroom’s wedded;
The bride a flam, that’s superseded.
To that their faith is still made good,
965
And all the oaths to us they vow’d:
For when we once resign our pow’rs,
W’ have nothing left we can call ours:
Our money’s now become the Miss
Of all your lives and services;
970
And we forsaken, and postpon’d;
But bawds to what before we own’d;
Which, as it made y’ at first gallant us,
So now hires others to supplant us,
Until ’tis all turn’d out of doors,
975
(As we had been) for new amours;
For what did ever heiress yet
By being born to lordships get?
When the more lady sh’ is of manours,
She’s but expos’d to more trepanners,
980
Pays for their projects and designs,
And for her own destruction fines;
And does but tempt them with her riches,
To use her as the Dev’l does witches;
Who takes it for a special grace
985
To be their cully for a space,
That when the time’s expir’d, the drazels
For ever may become his vassals:
So she, bewitch’d by rooks and spirits,
Betrays herself, and all sh’ inherits;
990
Is bought and sold, like stolen goods,
By pimps, and match-makers, and bawds,
Until they force her to convey,
And steal the thief himself away.
These are the everlasting fruits
995
Of all your passionate love-suits,
Th’ effects of all your amorous fancies
To portions and inheritances;
Your love-sick rapture for fruition
Of dowry, jointure, and tuition;
1000
To which you make address and courtship;
Ad with your bodies strive to worship,
That th’ infants’ fortunes may partake
Of love too, for the mother’s sake.
For these you play at purposes,
1005
And love your love’s with A’s and B’s:
For these at Beste and L’Ombre woo,
And play for love and money too;
Strive who shall be the ablest man
At right gallanting of a fan;
1010
And who the most genteelly bred
At sucking of a vizard-head;
How best t’ accost us in all quarters;
T’ our question — and —
command new Garters
And solidly discourse upon
1015
All sorts of dresses, Pro and Con.
For there’s no mystery nor trade,
But in the art of love is made:
And when you have more debts to pay
Than Michaelmas and Lady-Day,
1020
And no way possible to do’t,
But love and oaths, and restless suit,
Page 138
To us y’ apply to pay the scores
Of all your cully’d, past amours;
Act o’er your flames and darts again,
1025
And charge us with your wounds and pain;
Which others influences long since
Have charm’d your noses with and shins;
For which the surgeon is unpaid,
And like to be, without our aid.
1030
Lord! what an am’rous thing is want!
How debts and mortgages inchant!
What graces must that lady have
That can from executions save!
What charms that can reverse extent,
1035
And null decree and exigent!
What magical attracts and graces,
That can redeem from Scire facias!
From bonds and statutes can discharge,
And from contempts of courts enlarge!
1040
These are the highest excellencies
Of all your true or false pretences:
And you would damn yourselves, and swear
As much t’ an hostess dowager,
Grown fat and pursy by retail
1045
Of pots of beer and bottled ale;
And find her fitter for your turn;
For fat is wondrous apt to burn;
Who at your flames would soon take fire,
Relent, and melt to your desire,
1050
And like a candle in the socket,
Dissolve her graces int’ your pocket.
By this time ’twas grown dark and late,
When they heard a knocking at the gate,
Laid on in haste with such a powder,
1055
The blows grew louder still and louder;
Which Hudibras, as if th’ had been
Bestow’d as freely on his skin,
Expounding, by his inward light,
Or rather more prophetick fright,
1060
To be the Wizard, come to search,
And take him napping in the lurch
Turn’d pale as ashes or a clout;
But why or wherefore is a doubt
For men will tremble, and turn paler,
1065
With too much or too little valour.
His heart laid on, as if it try’d
To force a passage through his side,
Impatient (as he vow’d) to wait ’em,
But in a fury to fly at ’em;
1070
And therefore beat, and laid about,
To find a cranny to creep out.
But she, who saw in what a taking
The Knight was by his furious quaking,
Undaunted cry’d, Courage, Sir Knight;
1075
Know, I’m resolv’d to break no rite
Of hospitality t’ a stranger;
But, to secure you out of danger,
Will here myself stand sentinel,
To guard this pass ’gainst Sidrophel.
1080
Women, you know, do seldom fail
To make the stoutest men turn tail;
And bravely scorn to turn their backs
Upon the desp’ratest attacks.
At this the Knight grew resolute
1085
As
His fortitude began to rally,
And out he cry’d aloud to sally.
But she besought him to convey
His courage rather out o’ th’ way,
1090
And lodge in ambush on the floor,
Or fortify’d behind a door;
That if the enemy shou’d enter,
He might relieve her in th’ adventure.
Mean while they knock’d against the door
1095
As fierce as at the gate before,
Which made the Renegado Knight
Relapse again t’ his former fright.
He thought it desperate to stay
Till th’ enemy had forc’d his way,
1100
But rather post himself, to serve
The lady, for a fresh reserve
His duty was not to dispute,
But what sh’ had order’d execute;
Which he resolv’d in haste t’ obey,
1105
And therefore stoutly march’d away;
And all h’ encounter’d fell upon,
Though in the dark, and all alone;
Till fear, that braver feats performs
Than ever courage dar’d in arms,
1110
Had drawn him up before a pass
To stand upon his guard, and face:
This he courageously invaded,
And having enter’d, barricado’d,
Insconc’d himself as formidable
1115
As could be underneath a table,
Where he lay down in ambush close,
T’ expect th’ arrival of his foes.
Few minutes he had lain perdue,
To guard his desp’rate avenue,
1120
Before he heard a dreadful shout,
As loud as putting to the rout,
With which impatiently alarm’d,
He fancy’d th’ enemy had storm’d,
And, after ent’ring, Sidrophel
1125
Was fall’n upon the guards pell-mell
He therefore sent out all his senses,
To bring him in intelligences,
Which vulgars, out of ignorance,
Mistake for falling in a trance;
1130
But those that trade in geomancy,
Affirm to be the strength of fancy;
In which the
And things incredible reveal.
Mean while the foe beat up his quarters,
1135
And storm’d the out-works of his fortress:
And as another, of the same
Degree and party, in arms and fame,
That in the same cause had engag’d,
At war with equal conduct wag’d,
1140
By vent’ring only but to thrust
His head a span beyond his post,
B’ a gen’ral of the cavaliers
Was dragg’d thro’ a window by th’
ears;
So he was serv’d in his redoubt,
1145
And by the other end pull’d out.
Soon as they had him at their mercy,
They put him to the cudgel fiercely,
As if they’d scorn’d to trade or barter,
By giving or by taking quarter:
1150
They stoutly on his quarters laid,
Until his scouts came in t’ his aid.
For when a man is past his sense,
There’s no way to reduce him thence,
But twinging him by th’ ears or nose,
1155
Or laying on of heavy blows;
And if that will not do the deed,
To
No sooner was he come t’ himself,
But on his neck a sturdy elf
1160
Clapp’d, in a trice, his cloven hoof,
Page 140
And thus attack’d him with reproof;
Mortal, thou art betray’d to us
B’ our friend, thy Evil Genius,
Who, for thy horrid perjuries,
1165
Thy breach of faith, and turning lies,
The Brethren’s privilege (against
The wicked) on themselves, the Saints,
Has here thy wretched carcase sent
For just revenge and punishment;
1170
Which thou hast now no way to lessen,
But by an open, free confession;
For if we catch thee failing once,
’Twill fall the heavier on thy bones.
What made thee venture to betray,
1175
And filch the lady’s heart away?
To Spirit her to matrimony? —
That which contracts all matches — money.
It was th’ inchantment oft her riches
That made m’ apply t’ your croney witches,
1180
That, in return, wou’d pay th’ expence,
The wear and tear of conscience;
Which I cou’d have patch’d up, and turn’d,
For the hundredth part of what I earn’d.
Didst thou not love her then? Speak true.
1185
No more (quoth he) than I love you. —
How would’st th’ have us’d her,
and her money? —
First turn’d her up to alimony;
And laid her dowry out in law,
To null her jointure with a flaw,
1190
Which I before-hand had agreed
T’ have put, on purpose in the deed;
And bar her widow’s making over
T’ a friend in trust, or private lover.
What made thee pick and chuse her out,
1195
T’ employ their sorceries about? —
That which makes gamesters play with those
Who have least wit, and most to lose.
But didst thou scourge thy vessel thus,
As thou hast damn’d thyself to us?
1200
I see you take me for an ass:
’Tis true, I thought the trick wou’d pass
Upon a woman well enough,
As ’t has been often found by proof,
Whose humours are not to be won,
1205
But when they are impos’d upon.
For love approves of all they do
That stand for candidates, and woo.
Why didst thou forge those shameful lies
Of bears and witches in disguise?
1210
That is no more than authors give
The rabble credit to believe:
A trick of following their leaders,
To entertain their gentle readers;
And we have now no other way
1215
Of passing all we do or say
Which, when ’tis natural and true,
Will be believ’d b’ a very few,
Beside the danger of offence,
The fatal enemy of sense.
1220
Why did thou chuse that cursed sin,
Hypocrisy, to set up in?
Because it is in the thriving’st calling,
The only Saints-bell that rings all in;
In which all churches are concern’d,
1225
And is the easiest to be learn’d:
For no degrees, unless th’ employ’t,
Can ever gain much, or enjoy’t:
A gift that is not only able
To domineer among the rabble,
1230
But by the laws impower’d to rout,
And awe the greatest that stand out;
Which few hold forth against, for fear
Their hands should slip, and come too near;
For no sin else among the Saints
1235
Is taught so tenderly against.
What made thee break thy plighted vows? —
That which makes others break a house,
And hang, and scorn ye all, before
Endure the plague of being poor.
1240
Quoth he, I see you have more tricks
Than all your doating politicks,
That are grown old, and out of fashion,
Compar’d with your New Reformation;
That we must come to school to you,
1245
To learn your more refin’d, and new.
Quoth he, If you will give me leave
To tell you what I now perceive,
You’ll find yourself an arrant chouse,
If y’ were but at a Meeting-House. —
1250
’Tis true, quoth he, we ne’er come there,
Because, w’ have let ’em out by th’
year.
Truly, quoth he, you can’t imagine
What wond’rous things they will engage in
That as your fellow-fiends in Hell
1255
Were angels all before they fell,
So are you like to be agen,
Compar’d with th’ angels of us men.
Quoth he, I am resolv’d to be
Thy scholar in this mystery;
1260
And therefore first desire to know
Some principles on which you go.
What makes a knave a child of God,
And one of us? — A livelihood.
What renders beating out of brains,
1265
And murder, godliness? — Great gains.
What’s tender conscience? — ’Tis
a botch,
That will not bear the gentlest touch;
But breaking out, dispatches more
Than th’ epidemical’st plague-sore.
1270
What makes y’ encroach upon our trade,
And damn all others? — To be paid.
What’s orthodox, and true, believing
Against a conscience? — A good living.
What makes rebelling against Kings
1275
A Good Old Cause? — Administrings.
What makes all doctrines plain and clear? —
About two hundred pounds a year.
And that which was prov’d true before,
Prove false again? — Two hundred more.
1280
What makes the breaking of all oaths
A holy duty? — Food and cloaths.
What laws and freedom, persecution? —
B’ing out of pow’r, and contribution.
What makes a church a den of thieves? —
1285
A dean and chapter, and white sleeves.
Ad what would serve, if those were gone,
To make it orthodox? — Our own.
What makes morality a crime,
The most notorious of the time;
1290
Morality, which both the Saints,
And wicked too, cry out against? —
Cause grace and virtue are within
Prohibited degrees of kin
And therefore no true Saint allows,
1295
They shall be suffer’d to espouse;
For Saints can need no conscience,
That with morality dispense;
As virtue’s impious, when ’tis rooted
In nature only, and not imputed
1300
But why the wicked should do so,
We neither know, or care to do.
What’s liberty of conscience,
I’ th’ natural and genuine sense?
’Tis to restore, with more security,
1305
Rebellion to its ancient purity;
And christian liberty reduce
To th’ elder practice of the Jews.
For a large conscience is all one,
And signifies the same with none.
1310
It is enough (quoth he) for once,
And has repriev’d thy forfeit bones:
Nick MACHIAVEL had ne’er a trick,
(Though he gave his name to our Old Nick,)
But was below the least of these,
1315
That pass i’ th’ world for holiness.
This said, the furies and the light
In th’ instant vanish’d out of sight,
And left him in the dark alone,
With stinks of brimstone and his own.
1320
The
Rules all the sea, and half the land,
And over moist and crazy brains,
In high spring-tides, at midnight reigns,
Was now declining to the west,
1325
To go to bed, and take her rest;
When Hudibras, whose stubborn blows
Deny’d his bones that soft repose,
Lay still expecting worse and more,
Stretch’d out at length upon the floor;
1330
And though he shut his eyes as fast
As if h’ had been to sleep his last,
Saw all the shapes that fear or wizards
Do make the Devil wear for vizards,
And pricking up his ears, to hark
1335
If he cou’d hear too in the dark,
Was first invaded with a groan
And after in a feeble tone,
These trembling words: Unhappy wretch!
What hast thou gotten by this fetch;
1340
For all thy tricks, in this new trade,
Thy holy brotherhood o’ th’ blade?
By sauntring still on some adventure,
And growing to thy horse a Centaure?
To stuff thy skin with swelling knobs
1345
Of cruel and hard-wooded drubs?
For still th’ hast had the worst on’t
yet,
As well in conquest as defeat.
Night is the sabbath of mankind,
Page 143
To rest the body and the mind,
1350
Which now thou art deny’d to keep,
And cure thy labour’d corpse with sleep.
The Knight, who heard the words, explain’d,
As meant to him, this reprimand,
Because the character did hit
1355
Point-blank upon his case so fit;
Believ’d it was some drolling spright,
That staid upon the guard that night,
And one of those h’ had seen, and felt
The drubs he had so freely dealt;
1360
When, after a short pause and groan,
The doleful Spirit thus went on:
This ‘tis t’ engage with dogs and bears
Pell-mell together by the ears,
And, after painful bangs and knocks,
1365
To lie in limbo in the stocks,
And from the pinnacle of glory
Fall headlong into purgatory.
(Thought he, this devil’s full of malice,
That in my late disasters rallies:)
1370
Condemn’d to whipping, but declin’d it,
By being more heroic-minded:
And at a riding handled worse,
With treats more slovenly and coarse:
Engag’d with fiends in stubborn wars,
1375
And hot disputes with conjurers;
And when th’ hadst bravely won the day,
Wast fain to steal thyself away.
(I see, thought he, this shameless elf
Wou’d fain steal me too from myself,
1380
That impudently dares to own
What I have suffer’d for and done,)
And now but vent’ring to betray,
Hast met with vengeance the same way.
Thought he, how does the Devil know
1385
What ’twas that I design’d to do?
His office of intelligence,
His oracles, are ceas’d long since;
And he knows nothing of the Saints,
But what some treacherous spy acquaints.
1390
This is some pettifogging fiend,
Some under door-keeper’s friend’s friend,
That undertakes to understand,
And juggles at the second-hand;
And now would pass for Spirit Po,
1395
And all mens’ dark concerns foreknow.
I think I need not fear him for’t;
These rallying devils do no hurt.
With that he rouz’d his drooping heart,
And hastily cry’d out, What art?
1400
A wretch (quoth he) whom want of grace
Has brought to this unhappy place.
I do believe thee, quoth the Knight;
Thus far I’m sure th’ art in the right;
And know what ’tis that troubles thee,
1405
Better than thou hast guess’d of me.
Thou art some paultry, black-guard spright,
Condemn’d to drudg’ry in the night
Thou hast no work to do in th’ house
Nor half-penny to drop in shoes;
1410
Without the raising of which sum,
You dare not be so troublesome,
To pinch the slatterns black and blue,
For leaving you their work to do.
Sir (quoth the voice) y’are no such Sophi
As you would have the world judge of ye.
If you design to weigh our talents
1425
I’ the standard of your own false balance,
Or think it possible to know
Us ghosts as well as we do you;
We, who have been the everlasting
Companions of your drubs and basting,
1430
And never left you in contest,
With male or female, man or beast,
But prov’d as true t’ ye, and entire,
In all adventures, as your Squire.
Quoth he, That may be said as true
1435
By the idlest pug of all your crew:
For none cou’d have betray’d us worse
Than those allies of ours and yours.
But I have sent him for a token
To your Low-Country Hogen-mogen,
1440
To whose infernal shores I hope
He’ll swing like skippers in a rope.
And, if y’ have been more just to me
(As I am apt to think) than he,
I am afraid it is as true,
1445
What th’ ill-affected say of you:
Y’ have spous’d the Covenant and Cause,
By holding up your cloven paws.
Sir, quoth the voice, ’tis true, I grant,
We made and took the Covenant;
1450
But that no more concerns the Cause
Than other perj’ries do the laws,
Which when they’re prov’d in open court,
Wear wooden
And that’s the reason Cov’nanters
1455
Hold up their hands like rogues at bars.
I see, quoth Hudibras, from whence
These scandals of the Saints commence,
That are but natural effects
Of Satan’s malice, and his sects,
1460
Those Spider-Saints, that hang by threads,
Spun out o’ th’ intrails of their heads.
Sir, quoth the voice, that may as true
And properly be said of you,
Whose talents may compare with either,
1465
Or both the other put together.
For all the Independents do,
Is only what you forc’d ’em to;
You, who are not content alone
With tricks to put the Devil down,
1470
But must have armies rais’d to back
The gospel-work you undertake;
As if artillery, and edge-tools,
Were the only engines to save souls;
While he, poor devil, has no pow’r
1475
By force to run down and devour;
Has ne’er a Classis; cannot sentence
To stools or poundage of repentance;
Is ty’d up only to design,
Thought he, ’tis no mean part of civil
1525
State prudence to cajole the Devil
And not to handle him too rough,
When h’ has us in his cloven hoof.
T’ is true, quoth he, that intercourse
Has pass’d between your friends and ours;
1530
That as you trust us, in our way,
To raise your members, and to lay,
We send you others of our own,
Denounc’d to hang themselves or drown;
Or, frighted with our oratory,
1435
To leap down headlong many a story
Have us’d all means to propagate
Your mighty interests of state;
Laid out our spiritual gifts to further
Your great designs of rage and murther.
1540
For if the Saints are nam’d from blood,
We only have made that title good;
And if it were but in our power,
We should not scruple to do more,
And not be half a soul behind
1545
Of all dissenters of mankind.
Right, quoth the voice, and as I scorn
To be ungrateful, in return
Of all those kind good offices,
I’ll free you out of this distress,
1550
And set you down in safety, where
It is no time to tell you here.
The cock crows, and the morn grows on,
When ’tis decreed I must be gone;
And if I leave you here till day,
1555
You’ll find it hard to get away.
With that the Spirit grop’d about,
To find th’ inchanted hero out,
And try’d with haste to lift him up;
But found his forlorn hope, his crup,
1560
Unserviceable with kicks and blows,
Receiv’d from harden’d-hearted foes.
He thought to drag him by the heels,
Like Gresham carts, with legs for wheels;
But fear, that soonest cures those sores
1565
In danger of relapse to worse,
Came in t’ assist him with it’s aid
And up his sinking vessel weigh’d.
No sooner was he fit to trudge,
But both made ready to dislodge.
1570
The Spirit hors’d him like a sack
Upon the vehicle his back;
And bore him headlong into th’ hall,
With some few rubs against the wall
Where finding out the postern lock’d,
1575
And th’ avenues as strongly block’d,
H’ attack’d the window, storm’d
the glass,
And in a moment gain’d the pass;
Thro’ which he dragg’d the worsted souldier’s
Fore-quarters out by the head and shoulders;
1580
And cautiously began to scout,
To find their fellow-cattle out.
Nor was it half a minute’s quest,
E’re he retriev’d the champion’s
beast,
Ty’d to a pale, instead of rack;
1585
But ne’er a saddle on his back,
Nor pistols at the saddle-bow,
Convey’d away the Lord knows how,
He thought it was no time to stay,
And let the night too steal away;
1590
But in a trice advanc’d the Knight
Upon the bare ridge, bolt upright:
And groping out for RALPHO’s jade,
He found the saddle too was stray’d,
And in the place a lump of soap,
1595
On which he speedily leap’d up;
And turning to the gate the rein,
He kick’d and cudgell’d on amain.
While Hudibras, with equal haste,
On both sides laid about as fast,
1600
And spurr’d as jockies use to break,
Or padders to secure, a neck
Where let us leave ’em for a time,
And to their Churches turn our rhyme;
To hold forth their declining state,
1605
Which now come near an even rate.
15 a And more, &c.] Caligula was one of the Emperors of Rome, son of Germanicus and Agrippina. He would needs pass for a god, and had the heads of the ancient statues of the gods taken off; and his own placed on in their stead; and used to stand between the statues of Castor and Pollux to be worshipped; and often bragged of lying with the Moon.
43 b And us’d &c.] Philters were love potions, reported to be much in request in former ages; but our true Knight-Errant Hero made use of no other but what his noble atchievements by his sword produced.
52 c To th’ Ordeal, &c.] Ordeal trials were, when supposed criminals, to discover their innocence, went over several red-hot coulter irons. These were generally such whose chastity was suspected, as the vestal virgins, &c.
93 d So Spanish Heroes, &c.] The young Spaniards signalize their valour before the Spanish ladies at bull feasts, which often prove very hazardous, and sometimes fatal to them. It is performed by attacking of a wild bull, kept on purpose, and let loose at the combatant; and he that kills most, carries the laurel, and dwells highest in the ladies’ favour.
137 e To pawn, &c.] His exterior ears were gone before, and so out of danger; but by inward ears is here meant his conscience.
252 f Loud as, &c.] Stentrophon: A speaking trumpet, by which the voice may be heard at a great distance, very useful at sea.
276 g As if th’ had, &c.] This alludes to some abject letchers, who used to be disciplined with amorous lashes by their mistresses.
323 h Bewitch Hermetick Men, &c.] Hermes Trismegistus, an Egyptian Philosopher, and said to have lived Anno Mundi 2076, in the reign of Ninus, after Moses. He was a wonderful philosopher and proved that there was but one God, the creator of all things; and was the author of several most excellent and useful inventions. But those Hermetick Men here mentioned, though the pretended sectators of this great man, are nothing else but a wild and extravagant sort of enthusiasts, who make a hodge-podge of Religion and Philosophy, and produce nothing but what is the object of every considering person’s contempt.
326 i Potosi.] Potosi is a city of Peru, the mountains whereof afford great quantities of the finest silver in all the Indies.
603 k More wretched, &c.] Villainage was an antient tenure, by which the tenants were obliged to perform the most abject and slavish services for their lords.
639 l Like Indian Widows, &c.] The Indian women, richly attired, are carried in a splendid and pompous machine to the funeral pile where the bodies of their deceased husbands are to be consumed, and there voluntarily throw themselves into it, and expire; and such as refuse, their virtue is ever after suspected, and they live in the utmost contempt.
647 m For as the Pythagorean, &c.] It was the opinion of Pythogoras and his followers, that, the soul transmigrated (as they termed it) into all the diverse species of animals; and so was differently disposed and affected, according to their different natures and constitutions.
707 n For tho’ Chineses, &c.] The Chinese men of quality, when their wives are brought to bed, are nursed and tended with as much care as women here, and are supplied with the best strengthening and nourishing diet, in order to qualify them for future services.
751 o Transform them into Rams, &c.] The Sirens according to the poets, were three sea-monsters, half women and half fish: their names were Parthenope, Lignea and Leucosia. Their usual residence was about the island of Sicily, where, by the charming melody of their voices, they used to detain those that heard them, and then transform them into some sort of brute animals.
755 p By the Husband Mandrake, &c.] Naturalists report, that if a male and female Mandrake lie near each other, there will often be heard a sort of murmuring noise.
797 q The World is but two Parts, &c.] The equinoctial divides the globe into North and South.
819 r Unless among the Amazons, &c.] The Amazons were women of Scythia, of heroick and great atchievements. They suffered no men to live among them; but once every year used to have conversation with men, of the neighbouring countries, by which if they had a male child, they presently either killed or crippled it; but if a female, they brought it up to the use of arms, and burnt off one breast, leaving the other to suckle girls.
865 s The Nymphs of chaste Diana’s &c.] Diana’s Nymphs, all of whom vowed perpetual virginity, and were much celebrated for the exact observation of their vow.
866 t Lewkner’s Lane.] Some years ago swarmed with notoriously lascivious and profligate strumpets.
877 u The Reason of it is &c.] Demanding the clergy of her belly, which, for the reasons aforesaid, is pleaded in excuse by those who take the liberty to oblige themselves and friends.
1086 w As Ironside or HARDIKNUTE, &c.] Two famous and valiant princes of this country; the one a Saxon, the other a Dane.
1131 x But those that trade in Geomancy, &c.] The Lapland Magi. The Laplanders are an idolatrous people, far North: and it is very credibly reported, by authors and persons that have travelled in their country, that they do perform things incredible by what is vulgarly called Magick.
1158 y To burning with, &c.] An allusion to cauterizing in apoplexies, &c.
1321 z The Queen of Night, &c.] The moon influences the tides, and predominates over all humid bodies; and persons distempered in mind are called Lunaticks.
1344 a And growing to thy Horse, &c.] The Centaurs were a people of Thessaly, and supposed to be the first managers of horses; and the neighbouring inhabitants never having seen any such thing before, fabulously reported them monsters, half men and half horses.
1423 b Sir (quoth the Voice) &c.] Sophi is at present the name of the kings of Persia, not superadded, as Pharaoh was to the kings of Egypt, but the name of the family itself, and religion of Hali; whose descendants by Fatimas, Mahomet’s daughter, took the name of Sophi.
1451 c Wear wooden Peccadillos &c.] Peccadillos were stiff pieces that went about the neck; and round about the shoulders, to pin the band, worn by persons nice in dressing; his wooden one is a pillory.
1483 d Hence ’tis Possessions, &c.] Criminals, in their indictments, are charged with not having the fear of God before their eyes, but being led by the instigation of the Devil.
1521 e When to a legal Utlegation, &c.] When they return the excommunication into the Chancery, there is issued out a writ against the person.
1524 f Distrain on Soul, &c.] Excommunication, which deprives men from being Members of the visible church, and formally delivers them up to the Devil.
CANTO II.
------------------------------------------------- The Saints engage in fierce Contests About their Carnal interests; To share their sacrilegious Preys, According to their Rates of Grace; Their various Frenzies to reform, When Cromwel left them in a Storm Till, in th’ Effigy of Rumps, the Rabble Burns all their Grandees of the Cabal. -------------------------------------------------
The learned write, an
Is but a mungrel prince of bees,
That falls before a storm on cows,
And stings the founders of his house;
From whose corrupted flesh that breed
5
Of vermin did at first proceed.
So e’re the storm of war broke out,
Religion spawn’d a various rout
Of petulant Capricious sects,
The maggots of corrupted texts,
10
That first run all religion down,
And after ev’ry swarm its own.
For as the Persian
Upon their mothers got their sons,
That were incapable t’ enjoy
15
That empire any other way;
So presbyter begot the other
Upon the good old Cause, his mother,
Then bore then like the Devil’s dam,
Whose son and husband are the same.
20
And yet no nat’ral tie of blood
Nor int’rest for the common good
Cou’d, when their profits interfer’d,
Get quarter for each other’s beard.
For when they thriv’d, they never fadg’d,
25
But only by the ears engag’d:
Like dogs that snarl about a bone,
And play together when they’ve none,
As by their truest characters,
Their constant actions, plainly appears.
30
Rebellion now began, for lack
Of zeal and plunders to grow slack;
The Cause and covenant to lessen,
And Providence to b’ out of season:
For now there was no more to purchase
35
O’ th’ King’s Revenue, and the Churches,
But all divided, shar’d, and gone,
That us’d to urge the Brethren on;
Which forc’d the stubborn’st for the Cause,
To cross the cudgels to the laws,
40
That what by breaking them th’ had gain’d.
By their support might be maintain’d;
Like thieves, that in a hemp-plot lie
Page 150
Secur’d against the hue-and-cry;
For presbyter and INDEPENDANT
45
Were now turn’d plaintiff and defendant;
Laid out their apostolic functions
On carnal orders and injunctions;
And all their precious Gifts and Graces
On outlawries and scire facias;
50
At Michael’s term had many a trial,
Worse than the Dragon and St. Michael,
Where thousands fell, in shape of fees,
Into the bottomless abyss.
For when like brethren, and like friends,
55
They came to share their dividends,
And ev’ry partner to possess
His Church and State Joint-Purchases,
In which the ablest Saint, and best,
Was nam’d in trust by all the rest,
60
To pay their money; and, instead
Of ev’ry Brother, pass the deed;
He strait converted all his gifts
To pious frauds and holy shifts;
And settled all the other shares
65
Upon his outward man and’s heirs;
Held all they claim’d as forfeit lands,
Deliver’d up into his hands,
And pass’d upon his conscience,
By Pre-intail of Providence;
70
Impeach’d the rest for reprobates,
That had no titles to estates,
But by their spiritual attaints
Degraded from the right of Saints.
This b’ing reveal’d, they now begun
75
With law and conscience to fall on,
And laid about as hot and brain-sick
As th’ Utter Barrister of
Engag’d with moneybags as bold
As men with sand bags did of old;
80
That brought the lawyers in more fees
Than all unsanctify’d Trustees;
Till he who had no more to show
I’ th’ case receiv’d the overthrow;
Or both sides having had the worst,
85
They parted as they met at first.
Poor presbyter was now reduc’d,
Secluded, and cashier’d, and chous’d
Turn’d out, and excommunicate
From all affairs of Church and State;
90
Reform’d t’ a reformado Saint,
And glad to turn itinerant,
To stroll and teach from town to town,
And those he had taught up, teach down.
And make those uses serve agen
95
Against the new-enlighten’d men,
As fit as when at first they were
Reveal’d against the cavalier;
Damn Anabaptist and fanatic,
As pat as Popish and Prelatic;
100
And with as little variation,
To serve for any Sect i’ th’ nation.
The Good Old Cause, which some believe
To be the Dev’l that tempted Eve
With Knowledge, and does still invite
105
The world to mischief with new Light,
Had store of money in her purse
When he took her for bett’r or worse;
But now was grown deform’d and poor,
And fit to be turn’d out of door.
110
The Independents (whose first station
Was in the rear of reformation,
A mungrel kind of church-dragoons,
That serv’d for horse and foot at once;
And in the saddle of one steed
115
The Saracen and Christian rid;
Were free of ev’ry spiritual order,
To preach, and fight, and pray, and murder)
No sooner got the start to lurch
Both disciplines, of War and Church
120
And Providence enough to run
The chief commanders of ’em down,
But carry’d on the war against
The common enemy o’ th’ Saints,
And in a while prevail’d so far,
125
To win of them the game of war,
And be at liberty once more
T’ attack themselves, as th’ had before.
For now there was no foe in arms,
T’ unite their factions with alarms,
130
But all reduc’d and overcome,
Except their worst, themselves at home,
Wh’ had compass’d all they pray’d,
and swore,
And fought, and preach’d, and plunder’d
for;
Subdu’d the Nation, Church, and State,
135
And all things, but their laws and hate:
But when they came to treat and transact,
And share the spoil of all th’ had ransackt,
To botch up what th’ had torn and rent,
Religion and the Government,
140
They met no sooner, but prepar’d
To pull down all the war had spar’d
Agreed in nothing, but t’ abolish,
Subvert, extirpate, and demolish.
For knaves and fools b’ing near of kin
145
As
Both parties join’d to do their best
To damn the publick interest,
And herded only in consults,
To put by one another’s bolts;
150
T’ out-cant the
At all their dialects of jabberers,
And tug at both ends of the saw,
To tear down Government and Law.
For as two cheats, that play one game,
155
Are both defeated of their aim;
So those who play a game of state,
And only cavil in debate,
Although there’s nothing lost or won,
The publick bus’ness is undone;
160
Which still the longer ’tis in doing,
Becomes the surer way to ruin.
This, when the royalists perceiv’d,
(Who to their faith as firmly cleav’d,
And own’d the right they had paid down
165
So dearly for, the Church and Crown,)
Th’ united constanter, and sided
The more, the more their foes divided.
For though out-number’d, overthrown
And by the fate of war run down)
170
Their duty never was defeated,
Nor from their oaths and faith retreated;
For loyalty is still the same,
Whether it win or lose the game;
True as the dial to the sun,
175
Toss’d in a furious hurricane,
215 was seen before Next him his And now the Saints began their reign, Some were for setting up a King;
Did Oliver give up his reign;
And was believ’d, as well by Saints,
As mortal men and miscreants,
To founder in the Stygian Ferry;
Until he was retriev’d by Sterry,
220
Who, in a faise erroneous dream,
Mistook the New Jerusalem
Prophanely for the apocryphal
Whither it was decreed by Fate
225
His precious reliques to translate.
So Romulus
B’ as orthodox a Senator;
From whose divine illumination
He stole the Pagan revelation.
230 Son and Heir Apparent
Succeeded, though a lame vicegerent;
Who first laid by the Parliament,
The only crutch on which he leant;
And then sunk underneath the State,
235
That rode him above horseman’s weight.Page 153
For which th’ had yearn’d so long in vain,
And felt such bowel-hankerings,
To see an empire all of Kings.
240
Deliver’d from the Egyptian awe
Of Justice, Government, and Law,
And free t’ erect what spiritual Cantons
Should be reveal’d, or Gospel Hans-Towns,
To edify upon the ruins
245
Of
Who for a weather-cock hung up,
Upon the Mother Church’s top;
Was made a type, by Providence,
Of all their revelations since;
250
And now fulfill’d by his successors,
Who equally mistook their measures
For when they came to shape the model,
Not one could fit another’s noddle;
But found their Light and Gifts more wide
255
From fadging than th’ unsanctify’d;
While ev’ry individual brother
Strove hand to fist against another;
And still the maddest, and most crackt,
Were found the busiest to transact
260
For though most hands dispatch apace,
And make light work, (the proverb says,)
Yet many diff’rent intellects
Are found t’ have contrary effects;
And many heads t’ obstruct intrigues,
265
As slowest insects have most legs.
But all the rest for no such thing,
Unless king Jesus. Others tamper’d
For Fleetwood, Desborough, and Lambert;
270
Some for the Rump; and some, more crafty,
For Agitators, and the safety;
Some for the Gospel, and massacres
Of Spiritual Affidavit-makers,
That swore to any human regence,
275
Oaths of supremacy and allegiance;
Yea, though the ablest swearing Saint
That vouch’d the Bulls o’ th’ Covenant:
Others for pulling down th’ high-places
Of Synods and Provincial Classes,
280
That us’d to make such hostile inroads
Upon the Saints, like bloody NIMRODS
Some for fulfilling prophecies,
And th’ expiration of th’ excise
And some against th’ Egyptian bondage
285
Of holy-days, and paying poundage:
Some for the cutting down of groves,
And rectifying bakers’ loaves:
And some for finding out expedients
Against the slav’ry of obedience.
290
Some were for Gospel Ministers,
And some for Red-coat Seculars,
As men most fit t’ hold forth the word,
And wield the one and th’ other sword.
Some were for carrying on the work
295
Against the Pope, and some the Turk;
Some for engaging to suppress,
The Camisado of surplices,
That gifts and dispensations hinder’d,
And turn’d to th’ Outward Man the Inward;
300
More proper for the cloudy night
Page 154
Of Popery than Gospel Light.
Others were for abolishing
That tool of matrimony, a ring,
With which th’ unsanctify’d bridegroom
305
Is marry’d only to a thumb;
(As wise as ringing of a pig,
That us’d to break up ground, and dig;)
The bride to nothing but her will,
That nulls the after-marriage still
310
Some were for th’ utter extirpation
Of linsey-woolsey in the nation;
And some against all idolizing
The Cross in shops-books, or Baptizing
Others to make all things recant
315
The Christian or Surname of Saint;
And force all churches, streets, and towns,
The holy title to renounce.
Some ’gainst a Third Estate of Souls,
And bringing down the price of coals:
320
Some for abolishing black-pudding,
And eating nothing with the blood in;
To abrogate them roots and branches;
While others were for eating haunches
Of warriors, and now and then,
325
The flesh of Kings and mighty men
And some for breaking of their bones
With rods of ir’n, by secret ones:
For thrashing mountains, and with spells
For hallowing carriers’ packs and bells:
330
Things that the legend never heard of,
But made the wicked sore afear’d of.
The quacks of Government (who sate
At th’ unregarded helm of State,
And understood this wild confusion
335
Of fatal madness and delusion,
Must, sooner than a prodigy,
Portend destruction to be nigh)
Consider’d timely how t’ withdraw,
And save their wind-pipes from the law;
340
For one rencounter at the bar
Was worse than all th’ had ’scap’d
in war;
And therefore met in consultation
To cant and quack upon the nation;
Not for the sickly patient’s sake,
345
For what to give, but what to take;
To feel the pulses of their fees,
More wise than fumbling arteries:
Prolong the snuff of life in pain,
And from the grave recover — Gain.
350
’Mong these there was a politician
With more heads than a beast in vision,
And more intrigues in ev’ry one
Than all the whores of Babylon:
So politic, as if one eye
355
Upon the other were a spy,
That, to trepan the one to think
The other blind, both strove to blink;
And in his dark pragmatick way,
As busy as a child at play.
360
H’ had seen three Governments run down,
And had a hand in ev’ry one;
Was for ’em and against ’em all,
But barb’rous when they came to fall
For, by trepanning th’ old to ruin,
365
He made his int’rest with the new one
Play’d true and faithful, though against
His conscience, and was still advanc’d.
Page 155
For by the witchcraft of rebellion
Transform’d t’ a feeble state-camelion,
370
By giving aim from side to side,
He never fail’d to save his tide,
But got the start of ev’ry state,
And at a change ne’er came too late;
Cou’d turn his word, and oath, and faith,
375
As many ways as in a lath;
By turning, wriggle, like a screw,
Int’ highest trust, and out, for new.
For when h’ had happily incurr’d,
Instead of hemp, to be preferr’d,
380
And pass’d upon a government,
He pay’d his trick, and out he went
But, being out, and out of hopes
To mount his ladder (more) of ropes,
Wou’d strive to raise himself upon
385
The publick ruin, and his own;
So little did he understand
The desp’rate feats he took in hand.
For when h’ had got himself a name
For fraud and tricks, he spoil’d his game;
390
Had forc’d his neck into a noose,
To shew his play at fast and loose;
And when he chanc’d t’ escape, mistook
For art and subtlety, his luck.
So right his judgment was cut fit,
395
And made a tally to his wit,
And both together most profound
At deeds of darkness under-ground;
As th’ earth is easiest undermin’d
By vermin impotent and blind.
400
By all these arts, and many more,
H’ had practis’d long and much before,
Our state artificer foresaw
Which way the world began to draw.
For as old sinners have all points
405
O’ th’ compass in their bones and joints,
Can by their pangs and aches find
All turns and changes of the wind,
And better than by
Feel in their own the age of moons;
410
So guilty sinners in a state
Can by their crimes prognosticate,
And in their consciences feel pain
Some days before a show’r of rain.
He therefore wisely cast about,
415
All ways he cou’d, t’ ensure his throat;
And hither came, t’ observe and smoke
What courses other riskers took
And to the utmost do his best
To save himself, and hang the rest.
420
To match this Saint, there was another
As busy and perverse a Brother,
An haberdasher of small wares
In politicks and state affairs;
More Jew than Rabbi Achitophel,
425
And better gifted to rebel:
For when h’ had taught his tribe to ’spouse
The Cause, aloft, upon one house,
He scorn’d to set his own in order,
But try’d another, and went further;
430
So suddenly addicted still
To’s only principle, his will,
That whatsoe’er it chanc’d to prove,
Nor force of argument cou’d move;
Nor law, nor cavalcade of Holborn,
Page 156
435
Could render half a grain less stubborn.
For he at any time would hang
For th’ opportunity t’ harangue;
And rather on a gibbet dangle,
Than miss his dear delight, to wrangle;
440
In which his parts were so accomplisht,
That, right or wrong, he ne’er was non-plusht;
But still his tongue ran on, the less
Of weight it bore, with greater ease;
And with its everlasting clack
445
Set all men’s ears upon the rack.
No sooner cou’d a hint appear,
But up he started to picqueer,
And made the stoutest yield to mercy,
When he engag’d in controversy.
450
Not by the force of carnal reason,
But indefatigable teazing;
With vollies of eternal babble,
And clamour, more unanswerable.
For though his topics, frail and weak,
455
Cou’d ne’er amount above a freak,
He still maintain’d ’em, like his faults,
Against the desp’ratest assaults;
And back’d their feeble lack of sense,
With greater heat and confidence?
460
As bones of Hectors, when they differ,
The more they’re cudgel’d grow the stiffer.
Yet when his profit moderated,
The fury of his heat abated.
For nothing but his interest
465
Cou’d lay his Devil of Contest.
It was his choice, or chance; or curse,
T’ espouse the Cause for bett’r or worse,
And with his worldly goods and wit,
And soul and body, worship’d it:
470
But when he found the sullen trapes
Possess’d with th’ Devil, worms, and claps;
The
Not half so full of jadish tricks;
Though squeamish in her outward woman,
475
As loose and rampant as Dol Common;
He still resolv’d to mend the matter,
T’ adhere and cleave the obstinater;
And still the skittisher and looser
Her freaks appear’d, to sit the closer.
480
For fools are stubborn in their way,
As coins are harden’d by th’ allay:
And obstinacy’s ne’er so stiff
As when ’tis in a wrong belief.
These two, with others, being met,
485
And close in consultation set,
After a discontented pause,
And not without sufficient cause,
The orator we nam’d of late,
Less troubled with the pangs of State
490
Than with his own impatience,
To give himself first audience,
After he had a while look’d wise,
At last broke silence, and the ice.
Quoth he, There’s nothing makes me doubt
495
Our last out-goings brought about,
More than to see the characters
Of real jealousies and fears
Not feign’d, as once, but, sadly horrid,
Scor’d upon ev’ry Member’s forehead;
500
Who, ’cause the clouds are drawn together,
This none but we alone cou’d doubt,
Who understand their workings out;
And know them, both in soul and conscience,
725
Giv’n up t’ as reprobate a nonsense
As spiritual out-laws, whom the pow’r
Of miracle can ne’er restore
We, whom at first they set up under,
In revelation only of plunder,
730
Who since have had so many trials
Of their encroaching self-denials,
That rook’d upon us with design
To out-reform, and undermine;
Took all our interest and commands
735
Perfidiously out of our hands;
Involv’d us in the guilt of blood
Without the motive gains allow’d,
And made us serve as ministerial,
Like younger Sons of Father Belial;
740
And yet, for all th’ inhuman wrong
Th’ had done us and the Cause so long,
We never fail to carry on
The work still as we had begun;
But true and faithfully obey’d
745
And neither preach’d them hurt, nor pray’d;
Nor troubled them to crop our ears,
Nor hang us like the cavaliers;
Nor put them to the charge of gaols,
To find us pill’ries and cart’s-tails,
750
Or hangman’s wages, which the State
Was forc’d (before them) to be at,
That cut, like tallies, to the stumps,
Our ears for keeping true accompts,
And burnt our vessels, like a new
755
Seal’d peck, or bushel, for b’ing true;
But hand in hand, like faithful brothers,
Held for the Cause against all others,
Disdaining equally to yield
One syllable of what we held,
760
And though we differ’d now and then
’Bout outward things, and outward men,
Our inward men, and constant frame
Of spirit, still were near the same;
This said, th’ impatient States-monger
Could now contain himself no longer;
1000
Who had not spar’d to shew his piques
Against th’ haranguer’s politicks,
With smart remarks of leering faces,
And annotations of grimaces.
After h’ had administer’d a dose
1005
Of snuff-mundungus to his nose,
And powder’d th’ inside of his skull,
Instead of th’ outward jobbernol,
He shook it with a scornful look
On th’ adversary, and thus he spoke:
1010
In dressing a calves head, although
The tongue and brains together go,
Both keep so great a distance here,
’Tis strange if ever they come near;
For who did ever play his gambols
1015
With such insufferable rambles
To make the bringing in the king,
And keeping of him out, one thing?
Which none could do, but those that swore
T’ as point-plank nonsense heretofore:
1020
That to defend, was to invade;
And to assassinate, to aid
Unless, because you drove him out,
(And that was never made a doubt,)
No pow’r is able to restore,
1025
And bring him in, but on your score
A spiritual doctrine, that conduces
Most properly to all your uses.
’Tis true, a scorpions oil is said
To cure the wounds the vermine made;
And yet, in spight of all your charms
To conjure legion up in arms,
And raise more devils in the rout
Than e’er y’ were able to cast out,
1140
Y’ have been reduc’d, and by those fools
Bred up (you say) in your own schools;
Who, though but gifted at your feet,
Have made it plain, they have more wit;
By whom y’ have been so oft trepann’d,
1145
And held forth out of all command,
Out-gifted, out-impuls’d, out-done,
And out-reveal’d at carryings-on;
Of all your dispensations worm’d,
Out-Providenc’d, and out-reform’d;
1150
Ejected out of Church and State,
And all things, but the peoples’ hate;
And spirited out of th’ enjoyments
Of precious, edifying employments,
By those who lodg’d their Gifts and Graces,
1155
Like better bowlers, in your places;
All which you bore with resolution,
Charg’d on th’ accompt of persecution;
And though most righteously opprest,
Against your wills, still acquiesc’d;
1160
And never hum’d and hah’d sedition,
’Tis true, you have (for I’d be loth
To wrong ye) done your parts in both,
1190
To keep him out, and bring him in,
As grace is introduc’d by sin;
For ’twas your zealous want of sense,
And sanctify’d impertinence,
Your carrying business in a huddle,
1195
That forc’d our rulers to new-model;
Oblig’d the State to tack about,
And turn you, root and branch, all out;
To reformado, one and all,
T’ your great
Your greedy slav’ring to devour,
Before ’twas in your clutches, pow’r,
That sprung the game you were to set,
Before y’ had time to draw the net;
Your spight to see the Churches’ lands
1205
Divided into other hands,
And all your sacrilegious ventures
Laid out in tickets and debentures;
Your envy to he sprinkled down,
By Under-Churches in the town;
1210
And no course us’d to stop their mouths,
Nor th’ Independents’ spreading growths
All which consider’d, ’tis most true
None bring him in so much as you
Who have prevail’d beyond their plots,
1215
Their midnight juntos, and seal’d knots
That thrive more by your zealous piques,
Than all their own rash politicks
And you this way may claim a share
In carrying (as you brag) th’ affair;
1220
Else frogs and toads, that croak’d the Jews
From pharaoh and his brick-kilns loose,
And flies and mange, that set them free
From task-masters and slavery,
Were likelier to do the feat,
1225
In any indiff’rent man’s conceit
For who e’er heard of restoration
Page 168
Until your thorough Reformation?
That is, the King’s and Churches’ land
Were sequester’d int’ other hands:
1230
For only then, and not before,
Your eyes were open’d to restore.
And when the work was carrying on,
Who cross’d it, but yourselves alone?
As by a world of hints appears,
1235
All plain and extant as your ears.
But first, o’ th’ first: The Isle
of wight
Will rise up, if you should deny’t;
Where Henderson, and th’ other masses,
Were sent to cap texts, and put cases;
1240
To pass for deep and learned scholars,
Although but paltry
As if th’ unseasonable fools
Had been a coursing in the schools;
Until th’ had prov’d the Devil author
1245
O’ th’ Covenant, and the Cause his daughter,
For when they charg’d him with the guilt
Of all the blood that had been spilt,
They did not mean he wrought th’ effusion,
In person, like Sir PRIDE, or HUGHSON,
1250
But only those who first begun
The quarrel were by him set on;
And who could those be but the Saints,
Those Reformation Termagants?
But e’er this pass’d, the wise debate
1255
Spent so much time, it grew too late;
For OLIVER had gotten ground,
T’ inclose him with his warriors round
Had brought his Providence about,
And turn’d th’ untimely sophists out,
1260
Nor had the UXBRIDGE bus’ness less
Of nonsense in’t, or sottishness,
When from a scoundrel Holder-forth,
The scum as well as son o’ th’ earth,
Your mighty Senators took law;
1265
At his command, were forc’d t’ withdraw,
And sacrifice the peace o’ th’ nation
To doctrine, use and application.
So when the SCOTS, your constant cronies,
Th’ espousers of your Cause and monies,
1270
Who had so often, in your aid,
So many ways been soundly paid,
Came in at last for better ends,
To prove themselves your trusty friends,
You basely left them, and the Church
1275
They train’d you up to, in the lurch,
And suffer’d your own tribe of Christians
To fall before, as true Philistines.
This shews what utensils y’ have been,
To bring the King’s concernments in;
1280
Which is so far from being true,
That none but he can bring in you:
And if he take you into trust,
Will find you most exactly just:
Such as will punctually repay
1285
With double interest, and betray.
Not that I think those pantomimes,
Who vary action with the times,
Are less ingenious in their art,
Than those who dully act one part;
1290
Or those who turn from side to side,
More guilty than the wind and tide.
All countries are a wise man’s home,
And so are governments to some,
Who change them for the same intrigues
1295
That statesmen use in breaking leagues;
While others, in old faiths and troths,
Look odd as out-of-fashion’d cloths;
And nastier in an old opinion,
Than those who never shift their linnen.
1300
For true and faithful’s sure to lose,
Which way soever the game goes;
And whether parties lose or win,
Is always nick’d, or else hedg’d in:
While pow’r usurp’d, like stol’n
delight, 1305
Is more bewitching than the right;
And when the times begin to alter,
None rise so high as from the halter.
And so may we, if w’ have but sense
To use the necessary means;
1310
And not your usual stratagems
On one another, Lights and Dreams
To stand on terms as positive,
As if we did not take, but give:
Set up the Covenant on crutches,
1315
’Gainst those who have us in their clutches,
And dream of pulling churches down,
Before w’ are sure to prop our own:
Your constant method of proceeding,
Without the carnal mans of heeding;
1320
Who ’twixt your inward sense and outward,
Are worse, than if y’ had none, accoutred.
I grant, all courses are in vain,
Unless we can get in again;
The only way that’s left us now;
1325
But all the difficulty’s, How?
‘Tis true, w’ have money, th’ only
pow ’r
That all mankind falls down before;
Money, that, like the swords of kings,
Is the last reason of all things;
1330
And therefore need not doubt our play
Has all advantages that way;
As long as men have faith to sell,
And meet with those that can pay well;
Whose half-starv’d pride, and avarice,
1335
One Church and State will not suffice
T’ expose to sale, beside the wages
Of storing plagues to after-ages.
Nor is our money less our own,
Than ’twas before we laid it down;
1340
For ‘twill return, and turn t’ account,
If we are brought, in play upon’t:
Or but, by casting knaves, get in,
What pow ’r can hinder us to win?
We know the arts we us’d before,
1345
In peace and war, and something more;
And by th’ unfortunate events,
Can mend our next experiments:
For when w’ are taken into trust,
How easy are the wisest choust?
1350
Who see but th’ outsides of our feats,
And not their secret springs and weights;
Meanwhile be better arm’d to fence
1415
Against revolts of Providence.
By watching narrowly, and snapping
All blind sides of it, they happen
For if success could make us Saints,
Or ruin turn’d us miscreants:
1420
A scandal that wou’d fall too hard
Upon a few, and. unprepar’d.
These are the courses we must run,
Spight of our hearts, or be undone;
And not to stand on terms and freaks,
1425
Before we have secur’d our necks;
But do our work, as out of sight,
As stars by day, and suns by night;
All licence of the people own,
In opposition to the Crown;
1430
And for the Crown as fiercely side,
The head and body to divide;
The end of all we first design’d,
And all that yet remains behind
Be sure to spare no publick rapine,
1435
On all emergencies, that happen;
For ’tis as easy to supplant
Authority as men in want;
As some of us, in trusts, have made
The one hand with the other trade;
1440
Gain’d vastly by their joint endeavour;
The right a thief; the left receiver;
And what the one, by tricks, forestall’d,
The other, by as sly, retail’d.
For gain has wonderful effects
1445
T’ improve the Factory of Sects;
The rule of faith in all professions.
And great Diana of the Ephesians;
Whence turning of Religion’s made
The means to turn and wind a trade:
1450
And though some change it for the worse,
They put themselves into a course;
And draw in store of customers,
To thrive the better in commerce:
For all Religions flock together,
1455
Like tame and wild fowl of a feather;
To nab the itches of their sects,
As jades do one another’s necks.
Hence ’tis, Hypocrisy as well
Will serve t’ improve a Church as zeal:
1460
As Persecution or Promotion,
Do equally advance Devotion.
Let business, like ill watches, go
Sometime too fast, sometime too slow;
For things in order are put out
1465
So easy, Ease itself will do’t;
But when the feat’s design’d and meant,
What miracle can bar th’ event?
For ’tis more easy to betray,
Than ruin any other way.
1470
All possible occasions start
The weighty’st matters to divert;
Obstruct, perplex, distract, intangle,
And lay perpetual trains to wrangle.
But in affairs of less import,
1475
That neither do us good nor hurt,
And they receive as little by,
Out-fawn as much, and out-comply;
And seem as scrupulously just,
To bait our hooks for greater trust;
1480
But still be careful to cry down
All publick actions, though our own:
The least miscarriage aggravate,
And charge it all upon the Sate;
Express the horrid’st detestation,
1485
And pity the distracted nation
Tell stories scandalous and false,
I’ th’ proper language of cabals,
Where all a subtle statesman says,
Thus far the Statesman — When a shout,
Heard at a distance, put him out;
And straight another, all aghast,
Rush’d in with equal fear and haste;
1500
Who star’d about, as pale as death,
And, for a while, as out of breath;
Till having gather’d up his wits,
He thus began his tale by fits.
That
From all the garrets — in the town,
And stalls, and shop-boards — in vast swarms,
With new-chalk’d bills — and rusty
arms,
To cry the Cause — up, heretofore,
And bawl the bishops — out of door,
1510
Are now drawn up — in greater shoals,
To roast — and broil us on the coals,
And all the Grandees — of our Members
Are carbonading — on the embers;
Knights, Citizens, and Burgesses —
1515
Held forth by Rumps — of Pigs and Geese,
That serve for Characters — and Badges.
To represent their Personages:
Each bonfire is a funeral pile,
In which they roast, and scorch, and broil,
1520
And ev’ry representative
Have vow’d to roast — and broil alive:
And ’tis a miracle, we are not
Already sacrific’ d incarnate.
For while we wrangle here, and jar,
1525
W’ are grilly’d all at temple-bar:
Some on the sign-post of an ale-house,
Hang in effigy, on the gallows;
Made up of rags, to personate
Respective Officers of State;
1530
That henceforth they may stand reputed,
Proscrib’d in law, and executed;
And while the Work is carrying on
Be ready listed under
That worthy patriot, once the bellows,
1535
And tinder-box, of all his fellows;
The activ’st Member of the Five,
As well as the most primitive;
Who, for his faithful service then
Is chosen for a Fifth agen:
1540
(For since the State has made a Quint
Of Generals, he’s listed in’t.)
This worthy, as the world will say,
Is paid in specie, his own way;
For, moulded to the life in clouts,
1545
Th’ have pick’d from dung-hills hereabouts,
He’s mounted on a hazel bavin,
A cropp’d malignant baker gave ’m;
And to the largest bone-fire riding,
They’ve roasted
On whom in equipage and state,
His scarecrow fellow-members wait,
And march in order, two and two,
As at thanksgivings th’ us’d to do;
Each in a tatter’d talisman,
1555
Like vermin in effigie slain.
But (what’s more dreadful than the rest)
Those Rumps are but the tail o’ th’ Beast,
Set up by Popish engineers,
As by the crackers plainly appears;
1560
For none but Jesuits have a mission
To preach the faith with ammunition,
And propagate the Church with powder:
Their founder was a blown-up
These spiritual pioneers o’ th’ Whore’s,
1565
That have the charge of all her stores,
Since first they fail’d in their designs,
To take in Heav’n by springing mines,
And with unanswerable barrels
Of gunpowder dispute their quarrels,
1570
Now take a course more practicable,
By laying trains to fire the rabble,
And blow us up in th’ open streets,
Disguis’d in Rumps, like Sambenites;
More like to ruin, and confound,
1575
Than all the doctrines under ground.
Nor have they chosen Rumps amiss Egyptians us’d by bees For, as in bodies natural, The learned Rabbins of the Jews
1615
For symbols of State-mysteries;
Though some suppose ’twas but to shew
How much they scorn’d the Saints, the few;
1580
Who, ’cause they’re wasted to the stumps,
Are represented best by Rumps.
But Jesuits have deeper reaches
In all their politick far-fetches,
And from the Coptick Priest,
Found out this mystick way to jeer us.
For, as th’
T’ express their antick PTOLOMIES;
And by their stings, the swords they wore,
Held forth authority and power;
1590
Because these subtil animals
Bear all their int’rests in their tails;
And when they’re once impar’d in that,
Are banish’d their well-order’d state;
They thought all governments were best
1595
By Hieroglyphick Rumps exprest.
The rump’s the fundament of all;
So, in a commonwealth, or realm,
The government is call’d the helm;
1600
With which, like vessels under sail,
They’re turn’d and winded by the tail;
The tail, which birds and fishes steer
Their courses with through sea and air;
To whom the rudder of the rump is
1605
The same thing with the stern and compass.
This shews how perfectly the Rump
And Commonwealth in nature jump.
For as a fly, that goes to bed,
Rests with his tail above his head,
1610
So in this mungrel state of ours;
The rabble are the supreme powers;
That hors’d us on their backs, to show us
A jadish trick at last, and throw us.
Write there’s a bone, which they call leuz,
I’ th’ rump of man, of such a virtue,
No force in nature can do hurt to;
And therefore at the last great day,
All th’ other members shall, they say,
1620
Page 174
Spring out of this, as from a seed
All sorts of vegetals proceed;
From whence the learned sons of art
Os Sacrum justly stile that part.
Then what can better represent
1625
Than this Rump Bone the Parliament;
That, alter several rude ejections,
And as prodigious resurrections,
With new reversions of nine lives,
Starts up, and like a cat revives?
1630
But now, alas! they’re all expir’d,
And th’ House, as well as Members, fir’d;
Consum’d in kennels by the rout,
With which they other fires put out:
Condemn’d t’ ungoverning distress,
1635
And paultry, private wretchedness;
Worse than the Devil, to privation,
Beyond all hopes of restoration;
And parted, like the body and soul,
From all dominion and controul.
1640
We, who cou’d lately with a look
Enact, establish, or revoke;
Whose arbitrary nods gave law,
And frowns kept multitudes in awe;
Before the bluster of whose huff,
1645
All hats, as in a storm, flew off;
Ador’d and bowed to by the great,
Down to the footman and valet;
Had more bent knees than chapel-mats,
And prayers than the crowns of hats;
1650
Shall now be scorn’d as wretchedly;
For ruin’s just as low as high;
Which might be suffer’d, were it all
The horror that attends our fall:
For some of us have scores more large
1655
Than heads and quarters can discharge;
And others, who, by restless scraping,
With publick frauds, and private rapine,
Have mighty heaps of wealth amass’d,
Would gladly lay down all at last;
1660
And to be but undone, entail
Their vessels on perpetual jail;
And bless the Dev’l to let them farms
Of forfeit souls on no worse terms.
This said, a near and louder shout
1665
Put all th’ assembly to the rout,
Who now begun t’ out-run their fear,
As horses do from whom they bear;
But crowded on with so mach haste,
Until th’ had block’d the passage fast,
1670
And barricado’d it with haunches
Of outward men, and bulks, and paunches,
That with their shoulders strove to squeeze,
And rather save a crippled piece
Of all their crush’d and broken members,
1675
Than have them grilled on the embers;
Still pressing on with heavy packs
Of one another on their backs:
The van-guard could no longer hear
The charges of the forlorn rear,
1680
But, born down headlong by the rout,
Were trampled sorely under foot:
Yet nothing prov’d so formidable
As the horrid cookery of the rabble;
And fear, that keeps all feeling out,
1685
As lesser pains are by the gout,
Reliev’d ’em with a fresh supply
Of rallied force enough to fly,
And beat a Tuscan running-horse,
Whose jockey-rider is all spurs.
1690
1 g The Learned write, &c.] An insect breeze. Breezes often bring along with them great quantities of insects, which some are of opinion, are generated from viscous exhalations in the air; but our Author makes them proceed from a cow’s dung, and afterwards become a plague to that whence it received its original.
13 h For as the Persian, &c.] The Magi were priests and philosophers among the Persians, intrusted with the government both civil and ecclesiastick, much addicted to the observation of the stars. Zoroaster is reported to be their first author. They had this custom amongst them, to preserve and continue their families by incestuous copulation with their own mothers. Some are of opinion, that the three wise men that came out of the East to worship our Saviour were some of these.
51 i At Michael’s Term, &c.] St. Michael, an archangel; mentioned in St. Jude’s Epistle, Verse 9.
78 k And laid about, &c.] William Prynne, of Lincoln’s-Inn, Esq. born at Swanswick, who stiled himself Utter Barrister, a very warm person, and voluminous writer; and after the Restoration, keeper of the records in the Tower.
146 l As Dutch Boors, &c.] It is reported of the Dutch women, that making so great use of stoves, and often putting them under their petticoats, they engender a kind of ugly monster, which is called a Sooterkin.
151 m T’ out-cant the Babylonian, &c.] At the building of the Tower of Babel, when God made the confusion of languages.
215 Toss’d in a furious Hurricane, &c.] At Oliver’s death was a most furious tempest, such as had not been known in the memory of man, or hardly ever recorded to have been in this nation. This Sterry reported something ridiculously fabulous concerning Oliver, not unlike what Proculus did of Romulus.
224 o False Heaven, &c.] After the Restoration, Oliver’s body was dug up, and his head set at the farther end of Westminster-hall, near which place there is an house of entertainment, which is commonly known by the name of Heaven.
227 p So Romulus, &c.] A Roman Senator, whose name was Proculus, and much beloved by Romulus, made oath before the Senate, that this prince appeared to him after his death, and predicted the future grandeur of that city, promising to be protector of it; and expressly charged him, that he should be adored there under the name of Quirinus; and he had his temple on Mount Quirinale.
231 q Next his Son, &c.] Oliver’s eldest son Richard was, by him before his death, declared his successor; and, by order of privy-council, proclaimed Lord Protector, and received the compliments of congratulation and condolence, at the same time, from the Lord Mayor and Court of Aldermen: and addresses were presented to him from all parts of the nation, promising to stand by him with their lives and fortunes. He summoned a Parliament to meet at Westminster, which recognized him Lord Protector: yet, notwithstanding, Fleetwood, Desborough, and their partizans, managed affairs so, that he was obliged to resign.
245 r To edify upon the Ruins, &c.] John of Leyden, whose name was Buckhold, was a butcher of the same place, but a crafty, eloquent, and seditious fellow and one of those called Anabaptists. He went and set up at Munster, where, with Knipperdoling, and others of the same faction, they spread their abominable errors, and run about the streets in enthusiastical raptures, crying, Repent and be baptized, pronouncing dismal woes against all those that would not embrace their tenets. About the year 1533 they broke out into an open insurrection, and seized the palace and magazines, and grew so formidable that it was very dangerous for those who were not of their persuasion to dwell in Munster; but at length he and his associates being subdued and taken, he was executed at Munster, had his flesh pulled off by two executioners with red-hot pincers for the space of an hour, and then run through with a sword.
351 s ’Mong these there was a Politician, &c.] This was the famous E. of S. who was endued with a particular faculty of undermining and subverting all sorts of government.
409 t and better than by Napier’s Bones, &c.] The famous Lord Napier, of Scotland, the first inventor of logarithms, contrived also a set of square pieces, with numbers on them, made generally of ivory, (which perform arithmetical and geometrical calculations,) and are commonly called Napier’s Bones.
421 u To match this Saint, &c.] The great colonel John Lilbourn, whose trial is so remarkable, and well known at this time.
475 w The Trojan Mare, &c.] After the Grecians had spent ten years in the siege of Troy, without the least prospect of success, they bethought of a stratagem, and made a wooden horse capable of containing a considerable number of armed men: this they filled with the choicest of their army, and then pretended to raise the siege; upon which the credulous Trojans made a breach in the walls of the city to bring in this fatal plunder; but when it was brought in, the inclosed heroes soon appeared, and surprizing the city, the rest entered in at the breach.
520 x (I mean Margaret’s Fast) &c.] That Parliament used to have publick fasts kept in St. Margaret’s church, Westminster, as is done to this present time.
605 y To hang like Mahomet, &c.] It is reported of Mahomet the great impostor, that having built a mosque, the roof whereof was of loadstone, and ordering his corpse, when he was dead, to be put into an iron coffin, and brought into that place, the loadstone soon attracted it near the top, where it still hangs in the air. No less fabulous is what the legend says of Ignatius Loyola, that his zeal and devotion transported him so, that at his prayers he has been seen to be raised from the ground for some considerable time together.
650 z As easy as Serpents, &c.] Naturalists report, that Snakes, Serpents, &c. cast their skins every year.
655 a As Barnacles turn Soland Geese, &c.] It is said that in the Islands of the Orcades, in Scotland, there are trees which bear those barnacles, which dropping off into the water, receive life, and become those birds called soland geese.
663 b So he that keeps the Gate of Hell, &c.] The poets feign the dog Cerberus, that is the porter of hell, to have three heads.
685 c The GIBELLINES, &c.] Two great factions in Italy, distinguished by those names, miserably distracted and wasted it about the year 1130.
841 d When three Saints Ears, &c.] Burton, Prynn, and Bastwick, three notorious ringleaders of the factious, just at the beginning of the late horrid rebellion.
894 e But Fisher’s Folly, &c.] Fisher’s Folly, was where Devonshire-Square now stands, and was a great place of consultation in those days.
907 f Cut out more Work, &c.] Plato’s year, or the grand revolution of the intire machine of the world, was accounted 4000 years.
1200 g T’ your great Croysado General, &c.] General Fairfax, who was soon laid aside after he had done some of their drudgery for them.
1241 h To pass for deep and learned Scholars, &c.] Two ridiculous scribblers, that were often pestering the world with nonsense.
1250 i Like Sir Pride, &c.] The one a brewer, the other a shoemaker, and both colonels in the rebels’ army.
1505 k The beastly Rabble that came down, &c.] This is an accurate description of the mob’s burning rumps upon the admission of the secluded Members, on contempt of the Rump-Parliament.
1534 l Be ready listed under Don] The hangman’s name at that time was Don.
1550 m They’ve roasted Cook already and pride in.] Cook acted as solicitor-general against King Charles the First at his trial; and afterwards received his just reward for the same. Pride, a colonel in the Parliament’s army.
1564 n Their Founder was a blown up Soldier.] Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the society of the Jesuits, was a gentleman of Biscay, in Spain, and bred a soldier; was at Pampelune when it was besieged by the French in the year 1521, and was so very lame in both feet, by the damage he sustained there, that he was forced to keep his bed.
1585 o And from their Coptick Priests, Kircherus.] Athanasius Kircher, a Jesuit, hath wrote largely on the AEgyptian mystical learning.
1587 p For, as the AEgyptians us’d by Bees, &c.] The AEgyptians represented their kings, (many of whose names were Ptolemy) under the hieroglyphick of a bee, dispensing honey to the good and virtuous, and having a sting for the wicked and dissolute.
CANTO III
------------------------------------------------- The Knight and squire’s prodigious Flight To quit th’ inchanted Bow’r by Night. He plods to turn his amorous Suit T’ a Plea in Law, and prosecute Repairs to Counsel, to advise ’Bout managing the Enterprise; But first resolves to try by Letter, And one more fair Address, to get her. -------------------------------------------------
Who wou’d believe what strange bugbears
Mankind creates itself of fears
That spring like fern, that insect weed,
Equivocally, without seed;
And have no possible foundation,
5
But merely in th’ imagination;
And yet can do more dreadful feats
Than hags, with all their imps and teats
Make more bewitch and haunt themselves
Than all their nurseries of elves?
10
For fear does things so like a witch,
‘Tis hard t’ unriddle which is which:
Sets up Communities of senses,
To chop and change intelligences;
As
Can see with ears, and hear with noses;
And when they neither see nor hear,
Have more than both supply’d by fear
That makes ’em in the dark see visions,
And hag themselves with apparitions;
20
And when their eyes discover least,
Discern the subtlest objects best
Do things not contrary, alone,
To th’ course of nature, but its own;
The courage of the bravest daunt,
25
And turn poltroons as valiant:
For men as resolute appear
With too much as too little fear
And when they’re out of hopes of flying,
Will run away from death by dying;
30
Or turn again to stand it out,
And those they fled, like lions, rout.
This Hudibras had prov’d too true,
Who, by the furies left perdue,
And haunted with detachments, sent
35
From Marshal Legion’s regiment,
Was by a fiend, as counterfeit,
Reliev’d and rescu’d with a cheat;
When nothing but himself, and fear,
Was both the imp and conjurer;
40
As, by the rules o’ th’ virtuosi,
It follows in due form of poesie.
Disguis’d in all the masks of night,
We left our champion on his flight,
At blind man’s buff, to grope his way,
45
In equal fear of night and day,
Who took his dark and desp’rate course,
He knew no better than his horse;
And, by an unknown Devil led,
(He knew as little whither,) fled.
50
He never was in greater need,
Nor less capacity, of speed;
Disabled, both in man and beast,
To fly and run away his best;
To keep the enemy, and fear,
55
From equal falling on his rear.
And though with kicks and bangs he ply’d
The further and the nearer side,
(As seamen ride with all their force,
And tug as if they row’d the horse,
60
And when the hackney sails most swift,
Believe they lag, or run a-drift,)
So, though he posted e’er so fast,
His fear was greater than his haste:
For fear, though fleeter than the wind,
65
Believes ’tis always left behind.
For Ralpho had no sooner told
75
The Lady all he had t’ unfold,
But she convey’d him out of sight,
To entertain the approaching Knight;
And, while he gave himself diversion,
T’ accommodate his beast and person,
80
And put his beard into a posture
At best advantage to accost her,
She order’d th’ anti-masquerade
(For his reception) aforesaid:
But when the ceremony was done,
85
The lights put out, and furies gone,
And Hudibras, among the rest,
Convey’d away, as Ralpho guess’d,
The wretched caitiff, all alone,
(As he believ’d) began to moan,
90
And tell his story to himself,
The Knight mistook him for an elf;
And did so still till he began
To scruple at RALPH’s Outward Man;
And thought, because they oft agreed
95
T’ appear in one another’s stead,
And act the Saint’s and Devil’s part
With undistinguishable art,
They might have done so now, perhaps,
And put on one another’s shapes
100
And therefore, to resolve the doubt,
He star’d upon him, and cry’d out,
What art? My ’Squire, or that bold Sprite
That took his place and shape to-night?
Some busy indepenent pug,
105
Retainer to his Synagogue?
Alas! quoth he, I’m none of those,
Your bosom friends, as you suppose;
But Ralph himself, your trusty ’Squire,
Wh’ has dragg’d your Dunship out o’
th’ mire, 110
And from th’ inchantments of a widow,
Wh’ had turn’d you int’ a beast,
have freed you;
And, though a prisoner of war,
Have brought you safe where you now are;
Which you would gratefully repay
115
Your constant Presbyterian way.
That’s stranger (quoth the Knight) and stranger.
Who gave thee notice of my danger?
Quoth he, Th’ infernal Conjurer
Pursu’d and took me prisoner;
120
And knowing you were hereabout,
Brought me along to find you out;
Where I, in hugger-mugger hid,
Have noted all they said or did:
And though they lay to him the pageant,
125
I did not see him, nor his agent;
Who play’d their sorceries out of sight,
T’ avoid a fiercer second fight.
But didst thou see no Devils then?
Not one (quoth he) but carnal men,
130
A little worse than fiends in hell,
And that She-Devil Jezebel,
That laugh’d and tee-he’d with derision,
To see them take your deposition.
What then (quoth Hudibras) was he
135
That play’d the Dev’l to examine me?
A rallying weaver in the town,
That did it in a parson’s gown;
Whom all the parish take for gifted;
But, for my part, I ne’er believ’d it:
140
In which you told them all your feats,
Your conscientious frauds and cheats;
Deny’d your whipping, and confest
The naked truth of all the rest,
More plainly than the
That to our Churches veil’d his Mitre;
All which they took in black and white,
And cudgell’d me to under-write.
What made thee, when they all were gone,
And none but thou and I alone,
150
To act the Devil, and forbear
To rid me of my hellish fear?
Quoth he, I knew your constant rate
And frame of sp’rit too obstinate
To be by me prevail’d upon
155
With any motives of my own;
And therefore strove to counterfeit
The Dev’l a-while, to nick your wit;
The Devil, that is your constant crony,
That only can prevail upon ye;
160
Else we might still have been disputing,
And they with weighty drubs confuting.
The Knight who now began to find
Th’ had left the enemy behind,
And saw no farther harm remain,
165
But feeble weariness and pain;
Perceiv’d, by losing of their way,
Th’ had gain’d th’ advantage of
the day;
And, by declining of the road,
They had, by chance, their rear made good;
170
He ventur’d to dismiss his fear,
That parting’s wont to rent and tear,
And give the desperat’st attack
To danger still behind its back.
For having paus’d to recollect,
175
And on his past success reflect,
T’ examine and consider why,
And whence, and how, they came to fly,
And when no Devil had appear’d,
What else, it cou’d be said, he fear’d;
180
It put him in so fierce a rage,
He once resolv’d to re-engage;
Toss’d like a foot-ball back again,
With shame and vengeance, and disdain.
Quoth he, it was thy cowardice
185
That made me from this leaguer rise
And when I’d half reduc’d the place,
To quit it infamously base
Was better cover’d by the new
Arriv’d detachment then I knew;
190
To slight my new acquests, and run
Victoriously from battles won;
And reck’ning all I gain’d or lost,
To sell them cheaper than they cost;
To make me put myself to flight,
195
And conqu’ring run away by night
To drag me out, which th’ haughty foe
Durst never have presum’d to do
To mount me in the dark, by force,
Upon the bare ridge of my horse;
200
Expos’d in querpo to their rage,
Without my arms and equipage;
Lest, if they ventur’d to pursue,
I might th’ unequal fight renew;
And, to preserve thy Outward Man,
205
Assum’d my place, and led the van.
All this quoth Ralph, I did, ’tis true,
Not to preserve my self, but you;
You, who were damn’d to baser drubs
Than wretches feel in powd’ring tubs.
210
To mount two-wheel’d carroches, worse
Than managing a wooden-horse
Dragg’d out through straiter holes by th’
ears,
Eras’d or coup’d for perjurers;
Who, though th’ attempt had prov’d in
vain, 215
Had had no reason to complain:
But since it prosper’d, ’tis unhandsome
To blame the hand that paid our ransome,
And rescu’d your obnoxious bones
From unavoidable battoons.
220
The enemy was reinforc’d,
And we disabled, and unhors’d,
Disarm’d, unqualify’d for fight,
And no way left but hasty flight,
Which though as desp’rate in th’ attempt,
225
Has giv’n you freedom to condemn’t.
But were our bones in fit condition
To reinforce the expedition,
’Tis now unseasonable, and vain,
To think of falling on again.
230
No martial project to surprize
Can ever be attempted twice;
Nor cast design serve afterwards,
As gamesters tear their losing-cards,
Beside, our bangs of man and beast
235
Are fit for nothing now but rest;
And for a-while will not be able
To rally, and prove serviceable;
And therefore I, with reason, chose
This stratagem t’ amuse our foes;
240
To make an honourable retreat,
And wave a total sure defeat;
For those that fly may fight again,
Which he can never do that’s slain.
Hence timely running’s no mean part
245
Of conduct in the martial art;
By which some glorious feats atchieve,
As citizens by breaking thrive;
And cannons conquer armies, while
They seem to draw off and recoil;
250
Is held the gallantest course, and bravest
To great exploits, as well as safest;
That spares th’ expence of time and pains,
And dangerous beating out of brains;
And in the end prevails as certain
255
As those that never trust to fortune;
But make their fear do execution
Beyond the stoutest resolution;
As earthquakes kill without a blow,
And, only trembling, overthrow,
260
If th’ ancients crown’d their bravest
men
That only sav’d a citizen,
What victory could e’er be won,
If ev’ry one would save but one
Or fight endanger’d to be lost,
265
Where all resolve to save the most?
By this means, when a battle’s won,
The war’s as far from being done;
For those that save themselves, and fly,
Go halves, at least, i’ th’ victory;
270
And sometimes, when the loss is small,
And danger great, they challenge all;
Print new additions to their feats,
Page 182
And emendations in Gazettes;
And when, for furious haste to run,
275
They durst not stay to fire a gun,
Have done’t with bonfires, and at home
Made squibs and crackers overcome;
To set the rabble on a flame,
And keep their governors from blame;
280
Disperse the news the pulpit tells,
Confirm’d with fire-works and with bells;
And though reduc’d to that extream,
They have been forc’d to sing Te Deum;
Yet, with religious blasphemy,
285
By flattering Heaven with a lie
And for their beating giving thanks,
Th’ have rais’d recruits, and fill’d
their banks;
For those who run from th’ enemy,
Engage them equally to fly;
290
And when the fight becomes a chace,
Those win the day that win the race
And that which would not pass in fights,
Has done the feat with easy flights;
Recover’d many a desp’rate campaign
295
With Bordeaux, Burgundy, and Champaign;
Restor’d the fainting high and mighty
With brandy-wine and aqua-vitae;
And made ’em stoutly overcome
With bachrach, hoccamore, and mum;
300
Whom the uncontroul’d decrees of fate
To victory necessitate;
With which, although they run or burn
They unavoidably return:
Or else their
Still strangle all their routed Bassas.
Quoth Hudibras, I understand
What fights thou mean’st at sea and land,
And who those were that run away,
And yet gave out th’ had won the day;
310
Although the rabble sous’d them for’t,
O’er head and ears in mud and dirt.
’Tis true, our modern way of war
Is grown more politick by far,
But not so resolute, and bold,
315
Nor ty’d to honour, as the old.
For now they laugh at giving battle,
Unless it be to herds of cattle;
Or fighting convoys of provision,
The whole design o’ the expedition:
320
And not with downright blows to rout
The enemy, but eat them out:
As fighting, in all beasts of prey,
And eating, are perform’d one way,
To give defiance to their teeth
325
And fight their stubborn guts to death;
And those atchieve the high’st renown,
That bring the others’ stomachs down,
There’s now no fear of wounds, nor maiming;
All dangers are reduc’d to famine;
330
And feats of arms, to plot, design,
Surprize, and stratagem, and mine;
But have no need nor use of courage,
Unless it be for glory or forage:
For if they fight, ’tis but by chance,
335
When one side vent’ring to advance,
And come uncivilly too near,
Are charg’d unmercifully i’ th’
rear;
And forc’d with terrible resistance,
Quoth Ralph, By all that you have said,
And twice as much that I cou’d add,
’Tis plain you cannot now do worse,
375
Than take this out-of-fashion’d course;
To hope, by stratagem, to woo her,
Or waging battle to subdue her
Though some have done it in romances,
And bang’d them into amorous fancies;
380
As those who won the amazons,
By wanton drubbing of their bones;
And stout
By courting of her back and side.
But since those times and feats are over,
385
They are not for a modern lover,
When mistresses are too cross-grain’d
By such addresses to be gain’d;
And if they were, wou’d have it out
With many another kind of bout.
390
Therefore I hold no course s’ infeasible,
As this of force to win the Jezebel;
To storm her heart, by th’ antick charms
Of ladies errant, force of arms;
But rather strive by law to win her,
395
And try the title you have in her.
Your case is clear; you have her word,
And me to witness the accord
Besides two more of her retinue
To testify what pass’d between you;
400
More probable, and like to hold,
Than hand, or seal, or breaking gold;
For which so many, that renounc’d
Their plighted contracts, have been trounc’d
Page 184
And bills upon record been found,
405
That forc’d the ladies to compound;
And that, unless I miss the matter,
Is all the bus’ness you look after.
Besides, encounters at the bar
Are braver now than those in war,
410
In which the law does execution
With less disorder and confusion
Has more of honour in’t, some hold
Not like the new way, but the old
When those the pen had drawn together,
415
Decided quarrels with the feather,
And winged arrows kill’d as dead,
And more than bullets now of lead.
So all their combats now, as then,
Are manag’d chiefly by the pen;
420
That does the feat with braver vigours,
In words at length, as well as figures;
Is judge of all the world performs
In voluntary feats of arms
And whatsoe’er’s atchiev’d in fight,
425
Determines which is wrong or right:
For whether you prevail, or lose
All must be try’d there in the close;
And therefore ’tis not wise to shun
What you must trust to ere y’ have done.
430
The law, that settles all you do,
And marries where you did but woo;
That makes the most perfidious lover
A lady, that’s as false, recover;
And if it judge upon your side,
435
Will soon extend her for your bride;
And put her person, goods, or lands,
Or which you like best int’ your hands.
For law’s the wisdom of all ages,
And manag’d by the ablest sages;
440
Who, though their bus’ness at the bar
Be but a kind of civil war,
In which th’ engage with fiercer dudgeons
Than e’er the Grecians did and Trojans,
They never manage the contest
445
T’ impair their public interest;
Or by their controversies lessen
The dignity of their profession:
Not like us Brethren, who divide
Our Commonwealth, the Cause, and Side;
450
And though w’ are all as near of kindred
As th’ outward man is to the inward,
We agree in nothing, but to wrangle
About the slightest fingle-fangle;
While lawyers have more sober sense
455
Than t’ argue at their own expence,
But make their best advantages
Of others’ quarrels, like the Swiss;
And, out of foreign controversies,
By aiding both sides, fill their purses;
460
But have no int’rest in the cause
For which th’ engage, and wage the laws;
Nor further prospect than their pay,
Whether they lose or win the day:
And though th’ abounded in all ages,
465
With sundry learned clerks and sages,
Though all their business be dispute,
Which way they canvass ev’ry suit,
Th’ have no disputes about their art,
But lawyers are too wise a nation
T’ expose their trade to disputation;
Or make the busy rabble judges
485
Of all their secret piques and grudges;
In which whoever wins the day,
The whole profession’s sure to pay.
Beside, no mountebanks, nor cheats,
Dare undertake to do their feats,
490
When in all other sciences
They swarm, like insects, and increase.
For what bigot durst ever draw,
By inward light, a deed in law?
Or could hold forth, by revelation,
495
An answer to a declaration?
For those that meddle with their tools
Will cut their fingers, if they’re fools;
And if you follow their advice,
In bills, and answers, and replies,
500
They’ll write a love-letter in chancery,
Shall bring her upon oath to answer ye,
And soon reduce her to b’ your wife,
Or make her weary of her life.
The Knight, who us’d with tricks and shifts
505
To edify by RALPHO’s Gifts,
But in appearance cry’d him down,
To make them better seem his own,
(All Plagiaries’ constant course
Of sinking when they take a purse),
510
Resolv’d to follow his advice,
But kept it from him by disguise;
And, after stubborn contradiction,
To counterfeit his own conviction,
And by transition fall upon
515
The resolution as his own.
Quoth he, This gambol thou advisest
Is of all others the unwisest;
For if I think by law to gain her,
There’s nothing sillier or vainer
520
’Tis but to hazard my pretence,
Where nothing’s certain, but th’ expence;
To act against myself, and traverse
My suit and title, to her favours
And if she shou’d (which Heav’n forbid)
525
O’erthrow me, as the fidler did,
What aftercourse have I to take,
’Gainst losing all I have at stake?
He that with injury is griev’d,
And goes to law to be reliev’d,
530
Is sillier than a sottish chowse,
Who, when thief has robb’d his house,
Applies himself to cunning men,
To help him to his goods agen;
When all he can expect to gain,
535
An
For many years at Bridewell-dock,
At Westminster, and Hicks’s-Hall,
And Hiccius Doctius play’d in all;
580
Where, in all governments and times,
H’ had been both friend and foe to crimes,
And us’d two equal ways of gaining
By hind’ring justice or maintaining;
To many a whore gave priviledge,
585
And whipp’d for want of quarteridge:
Cart-loads of bawds to prison sent
For b’ing behind a fortnight’s rent
And many a trusty pimp and croney
To Puddle-dock for want of money;
590
Engag’d the constable to seize
All those that would not break the peace,
Nor give him back his own foul words,
Though sometimes Commoners or Lords,
And kept ’em prisoners of course,
595
For being sober at ill hours;
That in the morning he might free
Or bind ’em over for his fee;
Made monsters fine, and puppet-plays,
For leave to practise in their ways;
600
Farm’d out all cheats, and went a share
With th’ headborough and scavenger;
And made the dirt i’ th’ streets compound
Page 187
For taking up the publick ground;
The kennel, and the King’s highway,
605
For being unmolested, pay;
Let out the stocks, and whipping-post,
And cage, to those that gave him most;
Impos’d a tax on bakers’ ears,
And for false weights on chandelers;
610
Made victuallers and vintners fine
For arbitrary ale and wine;
But was a kind and constant friend
To all that regularly offend;
As residentiary bawds,
615
And brokers that receive stol’n goods;
That cheat in lawful mysteries,
And pay church duties and his fees;
But was implacable, and awkward,
To all that interlop’d and hawker’d.
620
To this brave man the Knight repairs
For council in his law-affairs
And found him mounted in his pew,
With books and money plac’d for shew,
Like nest-eggs to make clients lay,
625
And for his false opinion pay
To whom the knight, with comely grace,
Put off his hat to put his case
Which he as proudly entertain’d
As th’ other courteously strain’d;
630
And, to assure him ’t was not that
He look’d for, bid him put on’s hat.
Quoth he, There is one Sidrophel,
Whom I have cudgell’d — Very well.
And now he brags t’ have beaten me. —
635
Better and better still, quoth he. —
And vows to stick me to a wall
Where-e’er he meets me — Best of
all.
’Tis true, the knave has taken’s oath
That I robb’d him — Well done, in
troth 640
When h’ has confess’d he stole my cloak,
And pick’d my fob, and what he took;
Which was the cause that made me bang him,
And take my goods again — Marry hang him.
Now whether I should before-hand,
645
Swear he robb’d me? — I understand.
Or bring my action of conversion
And trover for my goods? — Ah, Whoreson!
Or if ’tis better to indite,
And bring him to his trial? — Right.
650
Prevent what he designs to do,
And swear for th’ State against him? —
True.
Or whether he that is defendant
In this case has the better end on’t;
Who, putting in a new cross-bill,
655
May traverse th’ action? — Better
still.
Then there’s a Lady too — Aye, marry
That’s easily prov’d accessary;
A widow, who, by solemn vows
Contracted to me for my spouse,
660
Combin’d with him to break her word,
And has abetted all. — Good Lord
Suborn’d th’ aforesaid Sidrophel
To tamper with the Dev’l of Hell;
Who put m’ into a horrid fear,
665
Fear of my life. — Make that appear.
Made an assault with fiends and men
Upon my body. — Good agen,
And kept me in a deadly fright,
And false imprisonment, all night
670
Mean while they robb’d me, and my horse,
And stole my saddle. — Worse and worse.
And made me mount upon the bare ridge,
T’ avoid a wretcheder miscarriage.
Sir, quoth the Lawyer, not to flatter ye,
675
You have as good and fair a battery
As heart can wish, and need not shame
The proudest man alive to claim.
For if th’ have us’d you as you say;
Marry, quoth I, God give you joy.
680
I wou’d it were my case, I’d give
More than I’ll say, or you’ll believe.
I would so trounce her, and her purse;
I’d make her kneel for better or worse;
For matrimony and hanging here
685
Both go by destiny so clear,
That you as sure may pick and choose,
As Cross, I win; and, Pile, you lose;
And, if I durst, I would advance
As much in ready maintenance,
690
As upon any case I’ve known,
But we that practise dare not own.
The law severely contrabands
Our taking bus’ness off men’s hands;
’Tis common barratry, that bears
695
Point-blank an action ’gainst our ears
And crops them till there is not leather
To stick a pin in left of either;
For which some do the Summer-sault,
And o’er the bar, like tumblers, vault,
700
But you may swear, at any rate,
Things not in nature, for the State;
For in all courts of justice here
A witness is not said to swear,
But make oath; that is, in plain terms,
705
To forge whatever he affirms.
(I thank you, quoth the Knight, for that,
Because ’tis to my purpose pat —
)
For Justice, though she’s painted blind,
Is to the weaker Side inclin’d,
710
Like Charity; else right and wrong
Could never hold it out so long,
And, like blind Fortune, with a slight
Convey mens’ interest and right
From
As easily as Hocus Pocus;
Play fast and loose; make men obnoxious,
And clear again, like Hiccius Doctius.
Then whether you wou’d take her life,
Or but recover her for your wife,
720
Or be content with what she has,
And let all other matters pass,
The bus’ness to the law’s alone,
The proof is all it looks upon:
And you can want no witnesses
725
To swear to any thing you please,
That hardly get their mere expences
By th’ labour of their consciences;
Or letting out to hire their ears
To affidavit customers,
730
At inconsiderable values,
To serve for jury-men or tallies,
Although retain’d in th’ hardest matters,
Of trustees and administrators.
For that, quoth he, let me alone;
735
W’ have store of such, and all our own;
Bred up and tutor’d by our teachers,
The ablest of conscience-stretchers.
That’s well, quoth he; but I should guess,
By weighing all advantages,
740
Your surest way is first to pitch
On
And when y’ have hang’d the conjurer,
Y’ have time enough to deal with her.
In th’ int’rim, spare for no trepans
745
To draw her neck into the bans
Ply her with love-letters and billets,
And bait ’em well, for quirks and quillets
With trains t’ inveigle, and surprize,
Her heedless answers and replies;
750
And if she miss the mouse-trap lines,
They’ll serve for other by-designs;
And make an artist understand
To copy out her seal or hand;
Or find void places in the paper
755
To steal in something to intrap her
Till, with her worldly goods and body,
Spight of her heart, she has endow’d ye,
Retain all sorts of witnesses,
That ply i’ th’ Temple under trees;
760
Or walk the round, with knights o’ th’
posts,
About the cross-legg’d knights, their hosts;
Or wait for customers between
The pillars-rows in Lincoln’s-Inn
Where vouchers, forgers, common-bail,
765
And affidavit-men, ne’er fail
T’ expose to sale all sorts of oaths,
According to their ears and cloaths,
Their only necessary tools,
Besides the Gospel and their souls;
770
And when y’ are furnish’d with all purveys,
I shall be ready at your service.
I would not give, quoth Hudibras,
A straw to understand a case,
Without the admirable skill
775
To wind and manage it at will;
To vere, and tack, and steer a cause
Against the weather-gage of laws;
And ring the changes upon cases
As plain as noses upon faces,
780
As you have well instructed me,
For which you’ve earn’d (here ’tis)
your fee.
I long to practise your advice,
And try the subtle artifice;
To bait a letter, as you bid;
785
As not long after, thus he did
For having pump’d up all his wit,
And humm’d upon it, thus he writ.
8 q Than Hags with all their Imps and Teats.] Alluding to the vulgar opinion, that witches have their imps, or familiar spirits, that are employed in their diabolical practices, and suck private teats they have about them.
15 r As Rosi-crucian Virtuosos, &c.] The Rosicrusians were a sect that appeared in Germany in the beginning of the XVIIth age. They are also called the Enlightened, Immortal, and Invisible. They are a very enthusiastical sort of men, and hold many wild and extravagant opinions.
36 s From Marshal Legion’s Regiment.] He used to preach, as if they might expect legions to drop down from heaven, for the propagation of the good Old Cause.
145 t More plainly than the Reverend Writer, &c.] A most Reverend Prelate, A. B. of Y. who sided with the disaffected party.
261 u If the Ancients crown’d their bravest Men, &c.] The Romans highly honoured, and nobly rewarded, those persons that were instrumental in the preservation of the lives of their citizens, either in battle or otherwise
305 w Or else their Sultan Populaces, &c.] The Author compares the arbitrary actings of the ungovernable mob to the Sultan or Grand Signior, who very seldom fails to sacrifice any of his chief commanders, called Bassas, if they prove unsuccessful in battle.
350 x As the ancient Mice attack’d the Frogs.) Homer wrote a poem of the War between the Mice and the Frogs.
383 y And stout Rinaldo gain’d his Bride, &c.] A story in Tasso, an Italian Poet, of a hero that gained his mistress by conquering her party.
577 z An old dull Sot, who told the Clock, &c.] Prideux, a justice of peace, a very pragmatical busy person in those times, and a mercenary and cruel magistrate, infamous for the following methods of getting of money among many others.
589 a And many a trusty Pimp and Croney, &c.] There was a gaol for puny offenders.
599 b Made Monsters fine, and Puppet-plays, &c.] He extorted money from those that kept shows.
715 c From Stiles’s Pocket into Nokes’s, &c.] John a Nokes, and John a Stiles, are two fictitious names made use of in stating cases of law only.
742 d On Bongey for a Water Witch.] Bongey was a Franciscan, and lived towards the end of the thirteenth century, a doctor of divinity in Oxford; and a particular acquaintance of Friar Bacon’s. In that ignorant age, every thing that seemed extraordinary was reputed magick; and so both Bacon and Bongey went under the imputation of studying the black-art. Bongey also, publishing a treatise of Natural Magick, confirmed some well-meaning credulous people in this opinion; but it was altogether groundless; for Bongey was chosen provincial of his order, being a person of most excellent parts and piety.
I who was once as great as Caesar,
Am now reduc’d to Nebuchadnezzar;
And from as fam’d a conqueror
As ever took degree in war,
Or did his exercise in battle,
5
By you turn’d out to grass with cattle:
For since I am deny’d access
To all my earthly happiness
Am fallen from the paradise
Of your good graces, and fair eyes;
10
Lost to the world, and you, I’m sent
To everlasting banishment;
Where all the hopes I had t’ have won
Your heart, b’ing dash’d, will break my
own.
Yet if you were not so severe
15
To pass your doom before you hear,
You’d find, upon my just defence,
How much y’ have wrong’d my innocence.
That once I made a vow to you,
Which yet is unperformed, ’tis true:
20
But not because it is unpaid,
’Tis violated, though delay’d;
Or, if it were, it is no fau’t,
So heinous as you’d have it thought;
To undergo the loss of ears,
25
Like vulgar hackney perjurers
For there’s a diff’rence in the case,
Between the noble and the base,
Who always are observ’d t’ have done’t
Upon as different an account:
30
The one for great and weighty cause,
To salve in honour ugly flaws;
For none are like to do it sooner
Than those who are nicest of their honour:
The other, for base gain and pay,
35
Forswear, and perjure by the day;
And make th’ exposing and retailing
Their souls and consciences a calling.
It is no scandal, nor aspersion,
Upon a great and noble person,
40
To say he nat’rally abhorr’d
Th’ old-fashion’d trick, To keep his word;
Though ’tis perfidiousness and shame
In meaner men to do the same:
For to be able to forget,
45
Is found more useful to the great,
Than gout, or deafness, or bad eyes,
To make ’em pass for wond’rous wise.
But though the law on perjurers
Inflicts the forfeiture of ears,
50
It is not just that does exempt
The guilty, and punish th’ innocent;
To make the ears repair the wrong
Committed by th’ ungovern’d tongue;
And when one member is forsworn,
55
Another to be cropt or torn.
And if you shou’d, as you design,
By course of law, recover mine,
You’re like, if you consider right,
To gain but little honour by’t.
60
For he that for his lady’s sake
Lays down his life or limbs at stake,
Does not so much deserve her favour,
As he that pawns his soul to have her,
This y’ have acknowledg’d I have done,
65
Although you now disdain to own;
But sentence what you rather ought
T’ esteem good service than a fau’t.
Besides, oaths are not bound to bear
That literal sense the words infer,
70
But, by the practice of the age,
Are to be judg’d how far th’ engage;
And, where the sense by custom’s checkt,
Are found void, and of none effect.
For no man takes or keeps a vow
75
But just as he sees others do;
Nor are th’ oblig’d to be so brittle,
As not to yield and bow a little:
For as best-temper’d blades are found,
Before they break, to bend quite round,
Or why should you, whose mother-wits
Are furnish’d with all perquisites,
That with your breeding-teeth begin,
165
And nursing babies, that lie in,
B’ allow’d to put all tricks upon
Our cully sex, and we use none?
We, who have nothing but frail vows
Against your stratagems t’ oppose;
170
Or oaths more feeble than your own,
By which we are no less put down?
You wound, like
And kill with a retreating eye:
Retire the more, the more we press
175
To draw us into ambushes.
As pirates all false colours wear
T’ intrap th’ unwary mariner,
So women, to surprise us, spread
The borrow’d flags of white and red;
180
Display ’em thicker on their cheeks
Than their old grandmothers, the Picts;
And raise more devils with their looks,
Than conjurer’s less subtle books;
Lay trains of amorous intrigues,
185
In tow’rs, and curls, and perriwigs,
With greater art and cunning rear’d,
Than
Prepost’rously t’ entice, and gain
Those to adore ’em they disdain;
190
And only draw ’em in, to clog
With idle names a catalogue.
A lover is, the more he’s brave,
T’ his mistress but the more a slave;
And whatsoever she commands,
195
Becomes a favour from her hands;
Which he’s obliged t’ obey, and must,
Whether it be unjust or just.
Then when he is compell’d by her
T’ adventures he would else forbear,
200
Who with his honour can withstand,
Since force is greater than command?
And when necessity’s obey’d,
Nothing can be unjust or bad
And therefore when the mighty pow’rs
205
Of love, our great ally and yours,
Join’d forces not to be withstood
By frail enamour’d flesh and blood,
All I have done, unjust or ill,
Was in obedience to your will;
210
And all the blame that can be due,
Falls to your cruelty and you.
Nor are those scandals I confest,
Against my will and interest,
More than is daily done of course
To what a height did infant ROME,
By ravishing of women, come
When men upon their spouses seiz’d,
And freely marry’d where they pleas’d,
240
They ne’er forswore themselves, nor ly’d.
Nor, in the mind they were in, dy’d;
Nor took the pains t’ address and sue,
Nor play’d the masquerade to woo;
Disdain’d to stay for friends’ consents;
245
Nor juggled about settlements:
Did need no license, nor no priest,
Nor friends, nor kindred, to assist;
Nor lawyers, to join land and money
In th’ holy state of matrimony,
250
Before they settled hands and hearts,
Till
Nor wou’d endure to stay until
Th’ had got the very bride’s good will;
But took a wise and shorter course
255
To win the ladies, downright force.
And justly made ’em prisoners then,
As they have often since, us men,
With acting plays, and dancing jigs,
The luckiest of all love’s intrigues;
260
And when they had them at their pleasure,
Then talk’d of love and flames at leisure;
For after matrimony’s over,
He that holds out but half a lover,
Deserves for ev’ry minute more
265
Than half a year of love before;
For which the dames in contemplation
Of that best way of application,
Prov’d nobler wives than e’er was known,
By suit or treaty to be won;
270
And such as all posterity
Cou’d never equal nor come nigh.
For women first were made for men,
Not men for them. — It follows, then,
That men have right to ev’ry one,
275
And they no freedom of their own
And therefore men have pow’r to chuse,
But they no charter to refuse.
Hence ’tis apparent, that what course
Soe’er we take to your amours,
280
Though by the indirectest way,
Forgive me (Fair) and only blame
Th’ extravagancy of my flame,
Since ’tis too much at once to show
315
Excess of love and temper too.
All I have said that’s bad and true,
Was never meant to aim at you,
Who have so sov’reign a controul
O’er that poor slave of yours, my soul,
320
That, rather than to forfeit you,
Has ventur’d loss of heaven too:
Both with an equal pow’r possest,
To render all that serve you blest:
But none like him, who’s destin’d either
325
To have, or lose you, both together.
And if you’ll but this fault release
(For so it must be, since you please)
I’ll pay down all that vow, and more,
Which you commanded, and I swore,
330
And expiate upon my skin
Th’ arrears in full of all my sin.
For ’tis but just that I should pay
Th’ accruing penance for delay,
Which shall be done, until it move
335
Your equal pity and your love.
The Knight, perusing this Epistle,
Believ’d h’ had brought her to his whistle;
And read it like a jocund lover,
With great applause t’ himself, twice over;
340
Subscrib’d his name, but at a fit
And humble distance to his wit;
And dated it with wond’rous art,
Giv’n from the bottom of his heart;
Then seal’d it with his Coat of Love,
345
A smoaking faggot — and above,
Upon a scroll — I burn, and weep;
And near it — For her Ladyship;
Of all her sex most excellent,
These to her gentle hands present.
350
Then gave it to his faithful Squire,
With lessons how t’ observe and eye her.
She first consider’d which was better,
To send it back, or burn the letter.
But guessing that it might import,
355
Though nothing else, at least her sport,
She open’d it, and read it out,
With many a smile and leering flout:
Resolv’d to answer it in kind,
And thus perform’d what she design’d.
360
Notes on HUDIBRAS’s epistle to his lady.
113 e Or who but Lovers can converse, &c.] Metaphysicians are of opinion, that angels and souls departed, being divested of all gross matter, understand each other’s sentiments by intuition, and consequently maintain a sort of conversation without the organs of speech.
121 f Or Heav’n itself a Sin resent, &c.] In regard children are capable of being inhabitants of Heaven, therefore it should not resent it as a crime to supply store of inhabitants for it.
173 g You wound like Parthians while you fly, &c.] Parthians are the inhabitants of a province in Persia: They were excellent horsemen, and very exquisite at their bows; and it is reported of them, that they generally slew more on their retreat than they did in the engagement.
188 h Than Philip Nye’s Thanksgiving Beard ] One of the Assembly of Divines, very remarkable for the singularity of his beard.
237 i To what a Height did Infant Rome, &c.] When Romulus had built Rome, he made it an asylum, or place of refuge, for all malefactors, and others obnoxious to the laws to retire to; by which means it soon came to be very populous; but when he began to consider, that, without propagation, it would soon be destitute of inhabitants, he invented several fine shows, and invited the young Sabine women, then neighbours to them; and when they had them secure, they ravished them; from whence proceeded so numerous an offspring.
252 k Till Alimony or Death them parts.] Alimony is an allowance that the law gives the woman for her separate maintenance upon living from her husband. That and death are reckoned the only separations in a married state.
That you’re a beast, and turn’d to grass,
Is no strange news, nor ever was;
At least to me, who once you know,
Did from the pound replevin you,
When both your sword and spurs were won
5
In combat by an Amazon.
That sword, that did (like Fate) determine
Th’ inevitable death of vermine,
And never dealt its furious blows,
But cut the throats of pigs and cows,
10
By TRULLA was, in single fight,
Disarm’d and wrested from its knight;
Your heels degraded of your spurs,
And in the stocks close prisoners;
Where still they’d lain, in base restraint,
15
If I, in pity of your complaint,
Had not on honourable conditions,
’Tis not those paultry counterfeit
55
French stones, which in our eyes you set,
But our right diamonds, that inspire
And set your am’rous hearts on fire.
Nor can those false St. Martin’s beads,
Which on our lips you lay for reds,
60
And make us wear, like Indian dames,
Add fuel to your scorching flames;
But those true rubies of the rock,
Which in our cabinets we lock.
’Tis not those orient pearls our teeth,
65
That you are so transported with;
But those we wear about our necks,
Produce those amorous effects.
Nor is’t those threads of gold, our hair,
The periwigs you make us wear,
70
But those bright guineas in our chests,
That light the wild fire in your breasts.
These love-tricks I’ve been vers’d in
so,
That all their sly intrigues I know,
And can unriddle, by their tones,
75
Their mystick cabals and jargones;
Can tell what passions, by their sounds,
Pine for the beauties of my grounds;
What raptures fond and amorous
O’ th’ charms and graces of my house;
80
What extasy and scorching flame,
Burns for my money in my name;
What from th’ unnatural desire
To beasts and cattle takes its fire;
What tender sigh, and trickling tear,
85
Longs for a thousand pounds a year;
And languishing transports are fond
Of statute, mortgage, bill, and bond.
These are th’ attracts which most men fall
Inamour’d, at first sight, withal
90
To these th’ address with serenades,
And court with balls and masquerades;
And yet, for all the yearning pain
Y’ have suffer’d for their loves in vain,
I fear they’ll prove so nice and coy
95
To have, and t’ hold and to enjoy
That all your oaths and labour lost,
They’ll ne’er turn ladies of the post.
This is not meant to disapprove
Your judgment in your choice of love;
100
Which is so wise, the greatest part
Of mankind study ’t as an art;
For love shou’d, like a deodand,
Still fall to th’ owner of the land;
And where there’s substance for its ground,
105
Cannot but be more firm and sound
Than that which has the slightest basis
Of airy virtue, wit, and graces;
Which is of such thin subtlety,
It steals and creeps in at the eye,
110
And, as it can’t endure to stay,
Steals out again as nice a way.
But love, that its extraction owns
From solid gold and precious stones
Must, like its shining parents, prove
115
As solid and as glorious love.
Hence ’tis you have no way t’express
Our charms and graces but by these:
For what are lips, and eyes, and teeth,
Which beauty invades and conquers with,
120
But rubies, pearls, and diamonds,
With which a philter-love commands?
This is the way all parents prove,
In managing their childrens’ love;
That force ’em t’ intermarry and wed,
125
As if th’ were bur’ing of the dead;
Cast earth to earth, as in the grave,
To join in wedlock all they have:
And when the settlement’s in force,
Take all the rest for better or worse;
130
For money has a power above
The stars and fate to manage love;
Whose arrows, learned poets hold,
That never miss, are tipp’d with gold.
And though some say, the parents’ claims
135
To make love in their childrens’ names,
Who many times at once provide
The nurse, the husband, and the bride
Feel darts and charms, attracts and flames,
And woo and contract in their names;
140
And as they christen, use to marry ’em,
And, like their gossips, answer for ’em;
Is not to give in matrimony,
But sell and prostitute for money;
’Tis better than their own betrothing,
145
Who often do’t for worse than nothing;
And when th’ are at their own dispose,
With greater disadvantage choose.
All this is right; but for the course
You take to do’t, by fraud or force,
150
’Tis so ridiculous, as soon
As told, ’tis never to be done;
No more than setters can betray,
That tell what tricks they are to play.
And if you are impos’d upon
’Tis by your own temptation done,
200
That with your ignorance invite;
And teach us how to use the slight.
For when we find y’ are still more taken
With false attracts of our own making;
Swear that’s a rose, and that a stone,
205
Like sots, to us that laid it on,
And what we did but slightly prime,
Most ignorantly daub in rhime;
You force us, in our own defences,
To copy beams and influences;
210
To lay perfections on the graces,
And draw attracts upon our faces;
And, in compliance to your wit,
Your own false jewels counterfeit.
For, by the practice of those arts
215
We gain a greater share of hearts;
And those deserve in reason most
That greatest pains and study cost;
For great perfections are, like heaven,
Too rich a present to be given.
We make and execute all laws;
Can judge the judges and the cause;
290
Prescribe all rules of right or wrong
To th’ long robe, and the longer tongue;
’Gainst which the world has no defence;
But our more pow’rful eloquence.
We manage things of greatest weight
295
In all the world’s affairs of state
Are ministers of war and peace,
That sway all nations how we please.
We rule all churches and their flocks,
Heretical and orthodox;
300
And are the heavenly vehicles
O’ th’ spirits in all conventicles.
By us is all commerce and trade
Improv’d, and manag’d, and decay’d;
For nothing can go off so well,
305
Nor bears that price, as what we sell.
We rule in ev’ry publique meeting,
And make men do what we judge fitting;
Are magistrates in all great towns,
Where men do nothing but wear gowns.
310
We make the man of war strike sail,
And to our braver conduct veil,
And, when h’ has chac’d his enemies,
Submit to us upon his knees.
Is there an officer of state
315
Untimely rais’d, or magistrate,
That’s haughty and imperious?
He’s but a journeyman to us.
That as he gives us cause to do’t,
Can keep him in, or turn him out.
320
We are your guardians, that increase
Or waste your fortunes how we please;
And, as you humour us, can deal
In all your matters, ill or well.
’Tis we that can dispose alone,
325
Whether your heirs shall be your own,
To whose integrity you must,
In spight of all your caution, trust;
And, ’less you fly beyond the seas,
Can fit you with what heirs we please;
330
And force you t’ own ’em, though begotten
By French Valets or Irish Footmen.
Nor can the vigorousest course
Prevail, unless to make us worse;
Who still, the harsher we are us’d,
335
Are further off from b’ing reduc’d;
And scorn t’ abate, for any ills,
The least punctilios of our wills.
Force does but whet our wits t’ apply
Arts, born with us, for remedy;
340
Which all your politicks, as yet,
Have ne’er been able to defeat:
For when y’ have try’d all sorts of ways,
What fools d’ we make of you in plays!
While all the favours we afford,
345
Are but to girt you with the sword,
To fight our battles in our steads,
And have your brains beat out o’ your heads;
Encounter, in despite of nature,
And fight at once, with fire and water,
350
With pirates, rocks, and storms, and seas,
Our pride and vanity t’ appease;
Kill one another, and cut throats,
For our good graces, and best thoughts;
And these are all the mighty pow’rs
You vainly boast to cry down ours;
And what in real value’s wanting,
Supply with vapouring and ranting;
370
Because yourselves are terrify’d,
And stoop to one another’s pride,
Believe we have as little wit
To be out-hector’d, and submit;
By your example, lose that right
375
In treaties which we gain’d in fight;
And, terrify’d into an awe,
Pass on ourselves a
Or, as some nations use, give place,
And truckle to your mighty race;
380
Let men usurp th’ unjust dominion,
As if they were the better women.
Notes on the LADY’s answer to the knight.
133 l Whose Arrows learned Poets hold, &c.] The poets feign Cupid to have two sorts of arrows; the one tipped with gold, and the other with lead. The golden always inspire and inflame love in the persons he wounds with them: but, on the contrary, the leaden create the utmost aversion and hatred. With the first of these he shot Apollo, and with the other Daphne, according to Ovid.
277 m While, like the mighty Prester John, &c.] Prester John, an absolute prince, emperor of Abyssinia or Ethiopia. One of them is reported to have had seventy kings for his vassals, and so superb and arrogant, that none durst look upon him without his permission.
285 Or Joan de Pucel’s braver Name.] Joan of Arc, called also the Pucelle, or Maid of Orleans. She was born at the town of Damremi, on the Meuse, daughter of James de Arc, and Isabella Romee; and was bred, up a shepherdess in the country. At the age of eighteen or twenty she pretended to an express commission from God to go to the relief of Orleans, then besieged by the English, and defended by John Compte de Dennis, and almost reduced to the last extremity. She went to the coronation of Charles the Seventh, when he was almost ruined. She knew that prince in the midst of his nobles; though meanly habited. The doctors of divinity, and members of parliament, openly declared that there was some thing supernatural in her conduct. She sent for a sword, which lay in the tomb of a knight, which was behind the great altar of the church of St. Katharine de Forbois, upon the blade of which the cross and flower-de-luces were engraven, which put the king in a very great surprise, in regard none besides himself knew of it. Upon this he sent her with the command of some troops, with which she relieved Orleans, and drove the English from it, defeated Talbot at the battle of Pattai, and recovered Champagne. At last she was unfortunately taken prisoner in a sally at Champagne in 1430, and tried for a witch or sorceress, condemned, and burnt in Rouen market-place in May 1430.
378 o Pass on ourselves a Salique Law.] The Salique Law is a law in France, whereby it is enacted, that no female shall inherit that crown.
Advowtry: Adultery
Animalia: Animals (L.)
Arsie-versie: Upside-down
Aruspicy: Prophesying, fortune-telling
Bachrach: Wine from Bacharach, in Germany
Bavin: A bundle of firewood
Boutefeu: Arsonist or (literal or metaphorical)
firebrand
Cacodaemon: An evil Spirit
Caldes’d: Cheated
Calendae: The 1st or 2nd of the month
Calleche: A carriage with two wheels and a folding
hood
Camelion: A giraffe
Camisado: An attack by night, during which the
attackers wore
shirts over their armour so they could recognise one
another
Cane & Angue pejus: Worse than a dog or a snake
(L.)
Caperdewsie: The stocks
Capoch’d: Pulled off the hoods
Caprich: A caprice
Carbonading: Thrashing, beating
Carroch: A stately or luxurious carriage
Catasta: The stocks
Cawdie: A military cadet
Cawdle: Soup or gruel
Ceruse: White lead used as a cosmetic
Champaign: Champagne wine
Champain: Countryside
Chous’d, choust, chows’d: Cheated
Chowse: A cheat’s victim
Classis: The elders and pastors of all the Presbyterian
congregations in a district
Coincidere: To come together (L.)
Congees: Bows, curtseys
Conster: Construe, explain
Conventicle: Secret or illegal religious meetings
Covins: Conspiracies
Cucking-stool: A stool to which a malefactor
(often an unfaithful
wife) was tied, to be exposed to public ridicule,
or ducked in a
pond or river.
Curship: The title of being a cur —
pun on “worship”
Curule: An ivory chair used as a mayor’s
throne
Deletory: That which wipes out or destroys
Deodand: In English law an article which had
caused a man’s death
was ordered by the court to be a forfeited as a deodand
(Ad Deo
dandum — to be given to God). Before the
reformation it or its value
was given to the Church; afterwards to the local
landowner.
Dewtry: A stupefying drink made from the Indian
thorn-apple
fruit.
Dialectico: A philosophical point of argument
Dictum factum: No sooner said than done (L.)
Disparo: To separate (L.)
Donzel: A young page or squire
Drazel: A slut
Ducatoon: An Italian silver coin, worth about
6 shillings.
Ejusdem generis: Of the same kind (L.)
Enucleate: To explain the meaning of
Ex parte: On behalf of (L.)
Exaun: A religious establishment not under the
authority of the
local bishop
Fadging: Fitting
Feme-covert: A woman under the protection of
a husband ( a legal
term)
Ferk: Beat, whip
Festina lente: Make haste slowly (L.)
Fingle-fangle: A whimsical or fantastic idea
Fother: A cart-load
Fulhams: Loaded dice
Ganzas: The birds which the hero of a popular