Hudibras Redivivus or, a Burlesque poem on the times. The Second Edition. To which is added, An Apology, and some other Improvements throughout the Whole [by Edward Ward] |
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| 12. | Part the Twelfth. |
| XVII. |
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 | Hudibras Redivivus |  |
1
12. Part the Twelfth.
3
CANTO XVII.
When quaint Aminadab had done
What better he had ne'er begun,
I left the formal dreaming Sinners
To creep precisely to their Dinners,
Highly commending one to th'other,
The Labours of their gifted Brother,
Who painfully had snuff'd the Light,
And made the Spirit shine so bright,
That ev'ry Zealot, as he march'd
Along the Street, so stiffly starch'd,
Devoutly chew'd the Heav'nly Food,
Not as fat Oxen do their Cud,
But dully shew'd a deep Regard
To th'off-hand Non-sense they had heard.
Some shak'd their pensive Heads, to think
How oft they'd drown'd in wick'd Drink
The inward Man, and made him totter
Like Vessel mov'd by Wind and Water.
What better he had ne'er begun,
I left the formal dreaming Sinners
To creep precisely to their Dinners,
Highly commending one to th'other,
The Labours of their gifted Brother,
Who painfully had snuff'd the Light,
And made the Spirit shine so bright,
That ev'ry Zealot, as he march'd
Along the Street, so stiffly starch'd,
4
Not as fat Oxen do their Cud,
But dully shew'd a deep Regard
To th'off-hand Non-sense they had heard.
Some shak'd their pensive Heads, to think
How oft they'd drown'd in wick'd Drink
The inward Man, and made him totter
Like Vessel mov'd by Wind and Water.
Others appearing so dejected,
As if their Brains had recollected
How oft they'd tempted Holy Sister,
And how unlawfully they'd kiss'd her,
When the proud Flesh, by Dint of Claret,
Was grown too pow'rful for the Spirit.
As if their Brains had recollected
How oft they'd tempted Holy Sister,
And how unlawfully they'd kiss'd her,
When the proud Flesh, by Dint of Claret,
Was grown too pow'rful for the Spirit.
In this sad melancholy Pickle
I left the scatt'ring Conventicle,
Shewing their Sorrow for their Sins
In penitential Leers and Grins.
I left the scatt'ring Conventicle,
Shewing their Sorrow for their Sins
In penitential Leers and Grins.
For their Repentance, you must know
Chiefly consists in outward Show.
To Female Vertue 'tis a-kin,
For like their Modesty, 'tis seen
Without, but seldom found within.
Chiefly consists in outward Show.
5
For like their Modesty, 'tis seen
Without, but seldom found within.
I rambled on to Tower-Hill,
To view that famous Cittadel,
That Terror of the Rich and Great,
Where Princes oft have met their Fate;
That Jayl for mighty Knaves design'd,
Where Lords and Lyons live confin'd;
From whence we ought to learn, that Traytors
And Rebels are such odious Creatures,
That faithful Subjects should contemn,
As Company for Beasts, not Men.
As I was walking round about,
Viewing its rusty Walls without,
And spending some few Thoughts upon
Those Ills that had within been done
By Ruffains of the greatest Figure,
More cruel far than Woolf or Tygar;
A Man came mounted on a Horse,
No Post-Boy e'er bestrid a worse:
I'll therefore first describe the Gennet,
And him that strutting sate upon it;
And when that's done, I'll let you see
What the fierce Rider prov'd to be.
To view that famous Cittadel,
That Terror of the Rich and Great,
Where Princes oft have met their Fate;
That Jayl for mighty Knaves design'd,
Where Lords and Lyons live confin'd;
From whence we ought to learn, that Traytors
And Rebels are such odious Creatures,
That faithful Subjects should contemn,
As Company for Beasts, not Men.
As I was walking round about,
Viewing its rusty Walls without,
And spending some few Thoughts upon
Those Ills that had within been done
By Ruffains of the greatest Figure,
More cruel far than Woolf or Tygar;
6
No Post-Boy e'er bestrid a worse:
I'll therefore first describe the Gennet,
And him that strutting sate upon it;
And when that's done, I'll let you see
What the fierce Rider prov'd to be.
Imprimis, The stupendious Beast
Was sixteen Hands in Height at least,
And seem'd, as the Spectators said,
By his huge Buttocks, and his Head,
Some super-annuated Coach-Horse,
Of Flanders Breed, or else a Dutch-Horse.
His Back was rounder than a Hog's;
His Sides so poor, that some arch Rogues
Affirm'd him rescu'd from the Dogs.
His Ribs appear'd, as if he eat
Nothing but Wrack-staves for his Meat,
Except sometimes the Carrion knaw'd
The Manger for a Change of Food.
His Buttocks were adorn'd with Hair
Much rougher than a Greenland Bear;
But Age or Mange had been unkind,
And left his Dock quite bald behind,
As bare as flat-nos'd Bawd appears
Upon the Crown at sixty Years.
His Eyes were sunk into their Sockets,
Deep as the Money in our Pockets,
That I profess I cannot tell,
Tho' I observ'd him very well,
Which would be harder of the two,
You to see them, or they see you.
No Jockey would, I dare engage,
Look in his Mouth to know his Age;
For ev'ry Feature of the Beast,
Proclaim'd him twenty Years at least.
Altho' his Sides no Fat could show,
He was too greasy grown below,
For ev'ry scabby Heal (confound 'em)
Had got a Quaking Pudding round 'em,
And were so weak, and swell'd with Matter,
That's fore Legs drew his hind Legs a'ter.
Was sixteen Hands in Height at least,
And seem'd, as the Spectators said,
By his huge Buttocks, and his Head,
Some super-annuated Coach-Horse,
Of Flanders Breed, or else a Dutch-Horse.
His Back was rounder than a Hog's;
His Sides so poor, that some arch Rogues
Affirm'd him rescu'd from the Dogs.
His Ribs appear'd, as if he eat
Nothing but Wrack-staves for his Meat,
Except sometimes the Carrion knaw'd
The Manger for a Change of Food.
7
Much rougher than a Greenland Bear;
But Age or Mange had been unkind,
And left his Dock quite bald behind,
As bare as flat-nos'd Bawd appears
Upon the Crown at sixty Years.
His Eyes were sunk into their Sockets,
Deep as the Money in our Pockets,
That I profess I cannot tell,
Tho' I observ'd him very well,
Which would be harder of the two,
You to see them, or they see you.
No Jockey would, I dare engage,
Look in his Mouth to know his Age;
For ev'ry Feature of the Beast,
Proclaim'd him twenty Years at least.
Altho' his Sides no Fat could show,
He was too greasy grown below,
For ev'ry scabby Heal (confound 'em)
Had got a Quaking Pudding round 'em,
8
That's fore Legs drew his hind Legs a'ter.
Excuse me, Reader, that my Muse
Should such indecent Language use.
I'm forc'd to keck my self, 'tis true;
I wish you may not do so too:
But beastly Words best suit the Nature
Of such an ill-look'd beastly Creature.
Should such indecent Language use.
I'm forc'd to keck my self, 'tis true;
I wish you may not do so too:
But beastly Words best suit the Nature
Of such an ill-look'd beastly Creature.
The Pace he crawl'd along, I'm sure,
At most, was half a Mile an Hour;
For ev'ry Step he cough'd and wheez'd,
Farted extreamly, often sneez'd,
That he who follow'd him, must find,
By the unsav'ry Whiffs behind,
He 'ad nothing in his Guts, but Wind.
His Huckle-bones on either side,
Between 'em did his Rudder hide;
So that his Bob-tail could appear
To none, except they stood i'th' Rear;
But cover'd the unseemly Vent
So very close, as if 'twas meant
Futurely, to prevent his Hay
From stealing out the backward way,
In case he should be thought deserving
Of being longer kept from starving.
At most, was half a Mile an Hour;
For ev'ry Step he cough'd and wheez'd,
Farted extreamly, often sneez'd,
That he who follow'd him, must find,
By the unsav'ry Whiffs behind,
He 'ad nothing in his Guts, but Wind.
His Huckle-bones on either side,
Between 'em did his Rudder hide;
So that his Bob-tail could appear
To none, except they stood i'th' Rear;
9
So very close, as if 'twas meant
Futurely, to prevent his Hay
From stealing out the backward way,
In case he should be thought deserving
Of being longer kept from starving.
Yet, notwithstanding all his Graces,
His Age, his Poverty, his Paces,
His Looks, his ugly Shapes and Failings,
His Galls, his Malanders and Ailings;
A Bridle did his Head adorn,
That old Buceph'lus might have worn,
Set forth at no Mechanick Rate,
With Studs and Stars, as bright as Plate;
Fine Buckles, ornamental Crosses,
Restraining Curb, and gilded Bosses,
That one could scarce distinguish whether
'Twas made of Metal, or of Leather.
His Age, his Poverty, his Paces,
His Looks, his ugly Shapes and Failings,
His Galls, his Malanders and Ailings;
A Bridle did his Head adorn,
That old Buceph'lus might have worn,
Set forth at no Mechanick Rate,
With Studs and Stars, as bright as Plate;
Fine Buckles, ornamental Crosses,
Restraining Curb, and gilded Bosses,
That one could scarce distinguish whether
'Twas made of Metal, or of Leather.
His arched Back a Saddle bore,
With Crimson Velvet cover'd o'er;
Belac'd as richly, you must know't,
As well-kept Harlot's Petticoat.
Upon his raw-bon'd Buttocks, lay
A Crupper cloath so rich and gay,
That any C---'s prancing Gennet
Might, without Scorn, have travell'd in it
Thro' Cheapside down to Blackfry'rs Stairs,
And no Dishonour to our M---rs.
Altho' in Flesh the Beast was poor,
He was so rich in Furniture,
That the lame, hide-bound, founder'd Jade
Appear'd bedeck'd from Arse to Head,
Like an old worthless, wither'd Bawd,
Who 'ad vainly on her self bestow'd
A gawdy Gown, and fine Commode.
With Crimson Velvet cover'd o'er;
10
As well-kept Harlot's Petticoat.
Upon his raw-bon'd Buttocks, lay
A Crupper cloath so rich and gay,
That any C---'s prancing Gennet
Might, without Scorn, have travell'd in it
Thro' Cheapside down to Blackfry'rs Stairs,
And no Dishonour to our M---rs.
Altho' in Flesh the Beast was poor,
He was so rich in Furniture,
That the lame, hide-bound, founder'd Jade
Appear'd bedeck'd from Arse to Head,
Like an old worthless, wither'd Bawd,
Who 'ad vainly on her self bestow'd
A gawdy Gown, and fine Commode.
The Rider, who was got a straddle
On this alluring noble Saddle,
Which, tho' 'twas very rich and gay,
Look'd something ancient, by the way,
Was proudly dress'd from Head to Arse,
Almost as splendid as his Horse.
An English Face the Hero had,
But 'twas with Flemish Whiskers made,
So incoherent, and so frightful,
So very ugly, and so spightful,
That no Dutch Wizard could advance,
Or Skipper, when he's drunk with Nantz,
A more Infernal Countenance.
An old long Wig he'ad on, as black
As th'Inside of a Small-coal Sack,
Tuck'd in behind t'a Silken Purse,
No Play-house Fury wears a worse,
Or Barber's Block in Drury-Lane
Was e'er disgrac'd with such a Mane.
To shew his Impudence, or Pride,
His Hat was cock'd on ev'ry side,
With Brims contiguous to the Crown,
Like blust'ring Bully of the Town.
His Coat had Silver Button-holes,
And Buttons large as Tennis Balls,
Such as each gawdy brainless Beau
Us'd to affect ten Years ago,
His vain Extravagance to show;
Or such as Church-Ward'ns often wear,
When they at Parish-Feasts appear,
Where the good Brethren o'er their Liquor,
Contrive much safer Ways, and quicker,
Than had been us'd by Knaves already,
To cheat the Hungry, and the Needy.
On this alluring noble Saddle,
Which, tho' 'twas very rich and gay,
Look'd something ancient, by the way,
11
Almost as splendid as his Horse.
An English Face the Hero had,
But 'twas with Flemish Whiskers made,
So incoherent, and so frightful,
So very ugly, and so spightful,
That no Dutch Wizard could advance,
Or Skipper, when he's drunk with Nantz,
A more Infernal Countenance.
An old long Wig he'ad on, as black
As th'Inside of a Small-coal Sack,
Tuck'd in behind t'a Silken Purse,
No Play-house Fury wears a worse,
Or Barber's Block in Drury-Lane
Was e'er disgrac'd with such a Mane.
To shew his Impudence, or Pride,
His Hat was cock'd on ev'ry side,
With Brims contiguous to the Crown,
Like blust'ring Bully of the Town.
12
And Buttons large as Tennis Balls,
Such as each gawdy brainless Beau
Us'd to affect ten Years ago,
His vain Extravagance to show;
Or such as Church-Ward'ns often wear,
When they at Parish-Feasts appear,
Where the good Brethren o'er their Liquor,
Contrive much safer Ways, and quicker,
Than had been us'd by Knaves already,
To cheat the Hungry, and the Needy.
His Boots, altho' 'twas sultry Weather,
Took up at least a Hide of Leather,
That in each Top he might have worn
A Peck, if not a Strike of Corn,
To 've comforted, in time of Need,
The Vitals of his drooping Steed.
His Legs might well their Safety boast,
And scorn the Rubs of stubborn Post,
For the stout Armour they had got,
Might stand the Force of Musket-shot,
Or bid Defiance in his Way,
To the rough Squeeze of Coach or Dray.
Took up at least a Hide of Leather,
That in each Top he might have worn
A Peck, if not a Strike of Corn,
To 've comforted, in time of Need,
The Vitals of his drooping Steed.
His Legs might well their Safety boast,
And scorn the Rubs of stubborn Post,
13
Might stand the Force of Musket-shot,
Or bid Defiance in his Way,
To the rough Squeeze of Coach or Dray.
For Use and Ornament together,
For one or both, I know not whether,
Each threat'ning, terrifying Heel,
Like fighting Cock, was arm'd with Steel,
Pointed like Spokes of Cath'rine-wheel.
The Leathers buckl'd on before,
To make the Weapons more secure,
Were very broad, as if design'd
To hide the pointed Spears behind,
That when the poor distressed Jade,
By chance should turn his jolter Head,
His dim Beholders should not see
The Causes of his Misery,
Those dreadful Ticklers of his Hide,
That gall'd him so from Side to Side,
For 'tis believ'd by some wise Men,
That could the slaving Drudge have seen
His cruel Master so prepar'd,
His faithful Service to reward,
It might have made the Beast consider
Which way to 've broke the Neck of's Rider.
For one or both, I know not whether,
Each threat'ning, terrifying Heel,
Like fighting Cock, was arm'd with Steel,
Pointed like Spokes of Cath'rine-wheel.
The Leathers buckl'd on before,
To make the Weapons more secure,
Were very broad, as if design'd
To hide the pointed Spears behind,
That when the poor distressed Jade,
By chance should turn his jolter Head,
His dim Beholders should not see
The Causes of his Misery,
Those dreadful Ticklers of his Hide,
That gall'd him so from Side to Side,
14
That could the slaving Drudge have seen
His cruel Master so prepar'd,
His faithful Service to reward,
It might have made the Beast consider
Which way to 've broke the Neck of's Rider.
Upon his Loyns a Leathern Zone,
Above his Coat was girted on,
Made, I suppose, of Bufflers Hide,
And was at least four Inches wide,
That from its Breadth, a Man may rather
Say he was hoop'd about with Leather.
This Belt, for so it was indeed,
In Fight, would prove of wond'rous Stead,
For Arse and Paunch were almost quite
Secur'd in trusty Armour by 't;
For 'twas so thick, that Point of Sword
Might sooner penetrate a Board,
Than by a Cut or Thrust divide
The Context of the stubborn Hide.
The Edges were with Silver lac'd,
Like Belt about Life-guard-man's Waste,
Which made him look, about the Crupper,
As fine as any new-cloath'd Trooper.
In this Bellonian Girdle, hung
A Scymeter both broad and long,
Such as are us'd by Turkish Soldiers
To cleave their Foes from Head to Shoulders.
The rugged Handle of his Weapon,
Made to carve Man, as Knife a Capon,
Did once adorn the armed Brows
Of Buck or Stag, which Hunters rouze,
And by the Help of Dogs and Rabble,
Pursue them to their very Table.
The Guard was made of shining Metal,
Not Brass, like Gammer Gurton's Kettle,
But such as greedy Misers hoard,
The very same that, in a Word,
Makes the Clown reverence the Lord;
The Cause of all our mighty Pother,
That stirs up Brother against Brother,
And makes Mankind hate one another;
The Bait that does the Wise enslave,
And makes the wav'ring Fool turn Knave;
The Toy that bears, by artful Means,
The Images of Kings and Queens.
With this same Metal was his Sword
Adorn'd, becoming of a Lord.
Above his Coat was girted on,
Made, I suppose, of Bufflers Hide,
And was at least four Inches wide,
That from its Breadth, a Man may rather
Say he was hoop'd about with Leather.
This Belt, for so it was indeed,
In Fight, would prove of wond'rous Stead,
For Arse and Paunch were almost quite
Secur'd in trusty Armour by 't;
For 'twas so thick, that Point of Sword
Might sooner penetrate a Board,
Than by a Cut or Thrust divide
The Context of the stubborn Hide.
15
Like Belt about Life-guard-man's Waste,
Which made him look, about the Crupper,
As fine as any new-cloath'd Trooper.
In this Bellonian Girdle, hung
A Scymeter both broad and long,
Such as are us'd by Turkish Soldiers
To cleave their Foes from Head to Shoulders.
The rugged Handle of his Weapon,
Made to carve Man, as Knife a Capon,
Did once adorn the armed Brows
Of Buck or Stag, which Hunters rouze,
And by the Help of Dogs and Rabble,
Pursue them to their very Table.
The Guard was made of shining Metal,
Not Brass, like Gammer Gurton's Kettle,
But such as greedy Misers hoard,
The very same that, in a Word,
Makes the Clown reverence the Lord;
16
That stirs up Brother against Brother,
And makes Mankind hate one another;
The Bait that does the Wise enslave,
And makes the wav'ring Fool turn Knave;
The Toy that bears, by artful Means,
The Images of Kings and Queens.
With this same Metal was his Sword
Adorn'd, becoming of a Lord.
That his stern Ignorance and Pride
Might be the better fortify'd,
Beneath his Nose, in mighty State,
A Brace of mortal Engines sate,
Such dreadful Pot-guns of Correction,
That threaten'd nothing but Destruction.
The Handles peeping out their Cases,
Stood pointing up to his Grimaces,
That had some pregnant Dame came by,
And on his Worship cast an Eye,
It might, in Mischief to her Marriage,
Have cost her a severe Miscarriage.
His Housings were in ample manner
Embroider'd, like a Prince's Banner,
And fring'd as rich, I dare be sure,
As any Gen'ral's Furniture:
But that which most his Pride disgrac'd,
Its Beauty was by Age defac'd;
But since a Soldier, maim'd in Wars,
Is honour'd by his Wounds and Scars,
And tatter'd Flags in Battel rent,
Bring Glory to a Regiment,
Who, among all the gazing Crew,
Could know, by such a transcient View,
But that his old decrepit Pad,
With all the Trappings of the Jade,
Had both their Youth and Beauty lost
In some Man-killing War-like Post,
To th'Honour of the doubty Knight,
That now sate mounted such a Height,
As well as to his prancing Slave,
That thro' the Danger bore the Knave.
Might be the better fortify'd,
Beneath his Nose, in mighty State,
A Brace of mortal Engines sate,
Such dreadful Pot-guns of Correction,
That threaten'd nothing but Destruction.
The Handles peeping out their Cases,
Stood pointing up to his Grimaces,
That had some pregnant Dame came by,
And on his Worship cast an Eye,
17
Have cost her a severe Miscarriage.
His Housings were in ample manner
Embroider'd, like a Prince's Banner,
And fring'd as rich, I dare be sure,
As any Gen'ral's Furniture:
But that which most his Pride disgrac'd,
Its Beauty was by Age defac'd;
But since a Soldier, maim'd in Wars,
Is honour'd by his Wounds and Scars,
And tatter'd Flags in Battel rent,
Bring Glory to a Regiment,
Who, among all the gazing Crew,
Could know, by such a transcient View,
But that his old decrepit Pad,
With all the Trappings of the Jade,
Had both their Youth and Beauty lost
In some Man-killing War-like Post,
To th'Honour of the doubty Knight,
That now sate mounted such a Height,
18
That thro' the Danger bore the Knave.
In this Array this Mortal Wight,
Thus arm'd, as if prepar'd to fight,
Spurr'd on his Steed from Place to Place,
Who crawl'd about an Ass's Pace,
And look'd, from his Camelian Feeding,
As if he 'ad chiefly had his Breeding
Beneath some Scavenger o'th' Town,
To hawl his Dust-Cart up and down;
Or else, that he had took much Pains
In dragging Tom T---d's Caravans.
Thus arm'd, as if prepar'd to fight,
Spurr'd on his Steed from Place to Place,
Who crawl'd about an Ass's Pace,
And look'd, from his Camelian Feeding,
As if he 'ad chiefly had his Breeding
Beneath some Scavenger o'th' Town,
To hawl his Dust-Cart up and down;
Or else, that he had took much Pains
In dragging Tom T---d's Caravans.
About the Hill this flaming Hero,
With Countenance as fierce as Nero,
Saunter'd, as if, in all his Pride,
He 'ad nothing else to do, but ride
In vain, to give his Horse new Breath
An Hour or two before his Death;
For all the idle gazing Throng,
That saw the Dogs-Meat crawl along,
Believ'd he could not waking creep
So slow, but that he walk'd in's Sleep;
A Pack-horse Pace to his compar'd,
Would have been riding very hard;
A Dyal's Hand, I dare to say,
Would almost steal as fast away;
For none but a discerning Eye,
At Bow-shot Distance, could discry
Whether he mov'd along the Hill,
Or that the dull Machine stood still.
With Countenance as fierce as Nero,
Saunter'd, as if, in all his Pride,
He 'ad nothing else to do, but ride
In vain, to give his Horse new Breath
An Hour or two before his Death;
For all the idle gazing Throng,
That saw the Dogs-Meat crawl along,
19
So slow, but that he walk'd in's Sleep;
A Pack-horse Pace to his compar'd,
Would have been riding very hard;
A Dyal's Hand, I dare to say,
Would almost steal as fast away;
For none but a discerning Eye,
At Bow-shot Distance, could discry
Whether he mov'd along the Hill,
Or that the dull Machine stood still.
I wrack'd my Thoughts, but could not guess,
Either by's Pad-Nag, or his Dress,
What Bus'ness could prevail upon
A Hero, arm'd with Sword and Gun,
Whose torvid Aspect made him show so
Like some revengeful Furioso,
Struting about on hide-bound Strammel,
Mounted like Turk upon a Camel.
Either by's Pad-Nag, or his Dress,
What Bus'ness could prevail upon
A Hero, arm'd with Sword and Gun,
Whose torvid Aspect made him show so
Like some revengeful Furioso,
Struting about on hide-bound Strammel,
Mounted like Turk upon a Camel.
Sometimes I could not but suppose
Some new Don Quixot was arose,
And hither came, with armed Force,
Mounted upon his hide-bound Horse,
T'exert his Courage, Skill, and Pow'r,
For Honours Sake, against the Tow'r,
As Brother Hero, to his Glory,
Attack'd the Wind-mill in a Fury.
Some new Don Quixot was arose,
20
Mounted upon his hide-bound Horse,
T'exert his Courage, Skill, and Pow'r,
For Honours Sake, against the Tow'r,
As Brother Hero, to his Glory,
Attack'd the Wind-mill in a Fury.
These Thoughts soon took their Farewel on me,
They prov'd too light to gain upon me.
Then musing, I was apt to dread
He had worse Mischief in his Head,
And that he was some angry Beau,
Or wrangling, fighting Bontefeu,
Who hither came in a Bravado,
To meet some Brother Desperado,
Arm'd on his Dromedarian Brute,
In order nicely to dispute,
After a noble, war-like manner,
Some windy Point of squeamish Honour.
They prov'd too light to gain upon me.
Then musing, I was apt to dread
He had worse Mischief in his Head,
And that he was some angry Beau,
Or wrangling, fighting Bontefeu,
Who hither came in a Bravado,
To meet some Brother Desperado,
Arm'd on his Dromedarian Brute,
In order nicely to dispute,
After a noble, war-like manner,
Some windy Point of squeamish Honour.
My Brain thus fill'd with various Notions,
I watch'd the Hero's further Motions,
Hoping before the Scene was over,
I should, to my Content, discover
What wond'rous Bus'ness brought to light
So 'ncommon a fantastick Sight;
At last I saw a grinning Looby,
Come mounted on a She Scotch Hobby,
Whose humble Size did not surpass
The lowly Stature of an Ass:
Close to her Neck her Ears she laid,
Like an ill-bred unlucky Jade,
That when she's handled, has the Trick
To give a Horse-Buss, or a Kick.
'Tis a rude way ungainly Tits
Make use of, to exert their Wits;
For rusty Scrubs, like us that write,
Can't jest, but they must spurn or bite.
Her haughty Tail, that graceful Stump,
Stood cock'd upright above her Rump,
As if the Filly took a Pride
T'expose what Tails were made to hide.
Her Fetlocks were so ruff and shagg'd,
Her long-hair'd Belly so bedagg'd,
And her Bears Arse with Dung so tagg'd,
That from her Buttocks to the Ground,
Great Signs of good Luck might be found,
For all the Way (I'm well assur'd)
She forward went, she backward scowr'd,
From whence, I will be bold to say,
Her Food was Grass, or Grains, not Hay,
Which made her Back-side so profuse,
And her lank Buttocks hang so loose,
That her Arse trembl'd, when she run,
Like quaggy Earth, when trod upon.
The Bridle of this Highland Beast,
Seem'd aged seven Years at least,
For here and there 'twas ty'd together
With Coblers Ends, and Thongs of Leather,
And I believe the very same,
In which she out of Scotland came,
Because, as I have heard some say,
Their Hobbies Bridles in the Day,
Are made alone for Use, not Sight,
And serve for Halters in the Night;
That is, good Husbandry excites
The Highland Scotch t'inure their Tits
To Hempen Reins, that have no Bits;
Which shews their Runts, as well as they
That ride 'em, scorn to run away.
I watch'd the Hero's further Motions,
21
I should, to my Content, discover
What wond'rous Bus'ness brought to light
So 'ncommon a fantastick Sight;
At last I saw a grinning Looby,
Come mounted on a She Scotch Hobby,
Whose humble Size did not surpass
The lowly Stature of an Ass:
Close to her Neck her Ears she laid,
Like an ill-bred unlucky Jade,
That when she's handled, has the Trick
To give a Horse-Buss, or a Kick.
'Tis a rude way ungainly Tits
Make use of, to exert their Wits;
For rusty Scrubs, like us that write,
Can't jest, but they must spurn or bite.
Her haughty Tail, that graceful Stump,
Stood cock'd upright above her Rump,
As if the Filly took a Pride
T'expose what Tails were made to hide.
22
Her long-hair'd Belly so bedagg'd,
And her Bears Arse with Dung so tagg'd,
That from her Buttocks to the Ground,
Great Signs of good Luck might be found,
For all the Way (I'm well assur'd)
She forward went, she backward scowr'd,
From whence, I will be bold to say,
Her Food was Grass, or Grains, not Hay,
Which made her Back-side so profuse,
And her lank Buttocks hang so loose,
That her Arse trembl'd, when she run,
Like quaggy Earth, when trod upon.
The Bridle of this Highland Beast,
Seem'd aged seven Years at least,
For here and there 'twas ty'd together
With Coblers Ends, and Thongs of Leather,
And I believe the very same,
In which she out of Scotland came,
23
Their Hobbies Bridles in the Day,
Are made alone for Use, not Sight,
And serve for Halters in the Night;
That is, good Husbandry excites
The Highland Scotch t'inure their Tits
To Hempen Reins, that have no Bits;
Which shews their Runts, as well as they
That ride 'em, scorn to run away.
Her ancient Saddle, I aver it,
Was better fed, than she that wore it;
For I could see, thro' its Decay,
The Seat was stuff'd with good old Hay,
Which started thro' each Hole and Rent,
Where mould'ring Age had giv'n it Vent,
Like stuffing of a Leathern Chair,
When worn by lazy Buttocks bare.
The Pony seeming such a Stranger,
By her lean Sides, to Wrack and Manger,
Could (if she 'ad had her Will) have eat
The Saddle Stuffing for a Bait,
For Scotland, by her wretched Case,
Seem'd still to be her Feeding-place.
So hungry Rats will knaw their Way
Thro' Cubboard Side, to gain their Prey,
And their devouring Gullets please
With mouldy Scraps of Bread and Cheese.
Was better fed, than she that wore it;
For I could see, thro' its Decay,
The Seat was stuff'd with good old Hay,
Which started thro' each Hole and Rent,
Where mould'ring Age had giv'n it Vent,
Like stuffing of a Leathern Chair,
When worn by lazy Buttocks bare.
The Pony seeming such a Stranger,
By her lean Sides, to Wrack and Manger,
24
The Saddle Stuffing for a Bait,
For Scotland, by her wretched Case,
Seem'd still to be her Feeding-place.
So hungry Rats will knaw their Way
Thro' Cubboard Side, to gain their Prey,
And their devouring Gullets please
With mouldy Scraps of Bread and Cheese.
The Sanca Panca, that had mounted
This Tit, by Feed and Nature stunted,
A painted gawdy Jacket wore,
That all the Rainbow-Colours bore.
Thought I, this party-colour'd Owl
Must be some riding Doctor's Fool;
That is, his Herauld, hither come
From all the Parts of Christendom,
In's Coat of Honour, to proclaim
His Master's universal Fame;
And he that has been ranging thus
On yonder old Bucephalus,
Must be the Doctor, as I take it,
Dress'd up in all this Pomp, to Quack it,
With some strange never-failing Packet.
I gaz'd a while, t'observe their Meeting,
And view'd the Manner of their Greeting,
Which was perform'd with great Decorum,
In sight of all that stood before 'em.
The merry Fool, with great Submission,
Bow'd to the grave Fool, the Physician,
Who made no Conge in return,
But look'd on t'other Fool with Scorn,
Just as Great Nobles do at Court,
Upon the lesser humble Sort,
Who cringe and creep to those above 'em,
Not 'cause they're wise, or that they love 'em;
But fancy'ng Titles solid Things,
Bow to the windy Breath of Kings:
But if you'd know the Reason of it,
These flatt'ring Nods are all for Profit.
So one Fool makes himself a Scoff,
To set the Fool his Master off,
As Andrew clowns it to the Doctor,
Because he proves his Benefactor.
This Tit, by Feed and Nature stunted,
A painted gawdy Jacket wore,
That all the Rainbow-Colours bore.
Thought I, this party-colour'd Owl
Must be some riding Doctor's Fool;
That is, his Herauld, hither come
From all the Parts of Christendom,
In's Coat of Honour, to proclaim
His Master's universal Fame;
And he that has been ranging thus
On yonder old Bucephalus,
25
Dress'd up in all this Pomp, to Quack it,
With some strange never-failing Packet.
I gaz'd a while, t'observe their Meeting,
And view'd the Manner of their Greeting,
Which was perform'd with great Decorum,
In sight of all that stood before 'em.
The merry Fool, with great Submission,
Bow'd to the grave Fool, the Physician,
Who made no Conge in return,
But look'd on t'other Fool with Scorn,
Just as Great Nobles do at Court,
Upon the lesser humble Sort,
Who cringe and creep to those above 'em,
Not 'cause they're wise, or that they love 'em;
But fancy'ng Titles solid Things,
Bow to the windy Breath of Kings:
But if you'd know the Reason of it,
These flatt'ring Nods are all for Profit.
26
To set the Fool his Master off,
As Andrew clowns it to the Doctor,
Because he proves his Benefactor.
When Quack and Zany thus were met,
The gorgious Emprick seem'd to fret,
Both looking round the spacious Hill,
As if they wanted something still.
At last a Negro Devil came
On a dun Kefield, blind and lame,
Riding Post Haste, with Spur and Whip,
Fast as the founder'd Drudge could creep,
Laden before him with a Wallet
Of—no Man e'er knew what to call it;
Promiscuous Sweeps of Druggists Shops,
Made into Plaisters, Pills, and Slops,
All mix'd, as you'll hereafter see,
Up with Infallibility:
Tho' could the World but at one View
Foresee the Evils they would do,
They'd say with me, (a Murrain rot 'em)
That 'twas the Dev'l indeed that brought 'em,
And that this Bag of damn'd Expedients,
Compounded of unknown Ingredients,
Brought from all Climates of the World,
Confus'dly thus together hurl'd,
Contain'd more Curses, Plagues, and Poxes,
Than fifty of Pandora's Boxes.
The gorgious Emprick seem'd to fret,
Both looking round the spacious Hill,
As if they wanted something still.
At last a Negro Devil came
On a dun Kefield, blind and lame,
Riding Post Haste, with Spur and Whip,
Fast as the founder'd Drudge could creep,
Laden before him with a Wallet
Of—no Man e'er knew what to call it;
Promiscuous Sweeps of Druggists Shops,
Made into Plaisters, Pills, and Slops,
All mix'd, as you'll hereafter see,
Up with Infallibility:
Tho' could the World but at one View
Foresee the Evils they would do,
27
That 'twas the Dev'l indeed that brought 'em,
And that this Bag of damn'd Expedients,
Compounded of unknown Ingredients,
Brought from all Climates of the World,
Confus'dly thus together hurl'd,
Contain'd more Curses, Plagues, and Poxes,
Than fifty of Pandora's Boxes.
FINIS.
| Hudibras Redivivus | |