Samuel Butler: Hudibras Written in the time of the late wars: The text edited by A. R. Waller |
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CANTO III.
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 | Samuel Butler: Hudibras |  |
CANTO III.
Ay 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
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:
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;
Thinks h'had done enough to purchase
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;
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.
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
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:
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;
60
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;
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
O'erthrown and scatter'd round about,
Chac'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,
And most ignobly sought to get
The honor of his blood and sweat)
Seeing the Coast was free and clear
O'th' Conquer'd and the Conquerer,
Took heart again, and fac'd about,
As if they meant to stand it out:
For now the half-defeated Bear
Attack'd by th' Enemy i'th' rear,
Finding their number grew too great
For him to make a safe retreat,
Like a bold Chieftain fac'd about;
But wisely doubting to hold out,
Gave way to fortune, and with haste
Fac'd the proud foe, and fled, and fac'd,
Retiring still, until he found
H' had got th' advantage of the ground;
And then as valiantly made head,
To check the foe, and forthwith fled;
Leaving no Art untry'd, nor Trick
Of Warrior stout and Politick,
Until in spight of hot pursuit,
He gain'd a Pass, to hold dispute
On better terms, and stop the course
Of the proud foe. With all his force
He bravely charg'd, and for a while
Forc'd their whole Body to recoil:
But still their numbers so increast
He found himself at length opprest,
And all evasions so uncertain,
To save himself for better fortune,
That he resolv'd, rather than yield,
To die with honour in the field,
And sell his Hide and Carcass at
A price as high and desperate
As e'er he could. This Resolution
He forthwith put in execution,
And bravely threw himself among
The Enemy i'th' greatest throng.
But what could single Valor do
Against so numerous a foe?
Yet much [he] did, indeed too much
To be believ'd. where th' odds was such:
But one against a multitude,
Is more than mortal can make good.
For while one party he oppos'd,
His Rear was suddenly enclos'd,
And no room left him for retreat,
Or fight against a foe so great.
For now the Mastives charging home
To blows and handy-gripes were come;
While manfully himself he bore,
And setting his right foot before,
He rais'd himself to shew how tall
His person was above them all.
This equal shame and envy stirr'd
I'th' Enemy, that one should beard
So many Warriors and so stout,
As he had done, and stand it out,
Disdaining to lay down his Arms,
And yield on honorable terms.
Enraged thus some in the rear
Attack'd him, and some ev'ry where,
Till down he fell, yet falling fought,
And being down still laid about;
As Widdrington in doleful dumps
Is said to fight upon his stumps.
O'erthrown and scatter'd round about,
Chac'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,
And most ignobly sought to get
The honor of his blood and sweat)
Seeing the Coast was free and clear
O'th' Conquer'd and the Conquerer,
Took heart again, and fac'd about,
As if they meant to stand it out:
For now the half-defeated Bear
Attack'd by th' Enemy i'th' rear,
Finding their number grew too great
For him to make a safe retreat,
Like a bold Chieftain fac'd about;
But wisely doubting to hold out,
Gave way to fortune, and with haste
Fac'd the proud foe, and fled, and fac'd,
Retiring still, until he found
H' had got th' advantage of the ground;
And then as valiantly made head,
To check the foe, and forthwith fled;
Leaving no Art untry'd, nor Trick
Of Warrior stout and Politick,
Until in spight of hot pursuit,
He gain'd a Pass, to hold dispute
On better terms, and stop the course
61
He bravely charg'd, and for a while
Forc'd their whole Body to recoil:
But still their numbers so increast
He found himself at length opprest,
And all evasions so uncertain,
To save himself for better fortune,
That he resolv'd, rather than yield,
To die with honour in the field,
And sell his Hide and Carcass at
A price as high and desperate
As e'er he could. This Resolution
He forthwith put in execution,
And bravely threw himself among
The Enemy i'th' greatest throng.
But what could single Valor do
Against so numerous a foe?
Yet much [he] did, indeed too much
To be believ'd. where th' odds was such:
But one against a multitude,
Is more than mortal can make good.
For while one party he oppos'd,
His Rear was suddenly enclos'd,
And no room left him for retreat,
Or fight against a foe so great.
For now the Mastives charging home
To blows and handy-gripes were come;
While manfully himself he bore,
And setting his right foot before,
He rais'd himself to shew how tall
His person was above them all.
This equal shame and envy stirr'd
I'th' Enemy, that one should beard
So many Warriors and so stout,
As he had done, and stand it out,
Disdaining to lay down his Arms,
And yield on honorable terms.
Enraged thus some in the rear
Attack'd him, and some ev'ry where,
Till down he fell, yet falling fought,
62
As Widdrington in doleful dumps
Is said to fight upon his stumps.
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.
For Trulla, who was light of foot,
As shafts which long-field Parthians shoot
(But not so light as to be born
Upon the Ears of standing Corn,
Or [trip] it o'er the water quicker
Than Witches when their staves they liquor,
As some report) was got among
The foremost of the Martial throng;
Where pittying the vanquish'd Bear,
She call'd to Cerdon who stood near
Viewing the bloudy 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,
In story not to be believ'd:
And 'twould to us be shame enough,
Not to a[t]tempt to fetch him off.
And he inevitably slain,
If Trulla and Cerdon in the nick
To rescue him had not been quick.
For Trulla, who was light of foot,
As shafts which long-field Parthians shoot
(But not so light as to be born
Upon the Ears of standing Corn,
Or [trip] it o'er the water quicker
Than Witches when their staves they liquor,
As some report) was got among
The foremost of the Martial throng;
Where pittying the vanquish'd Bear,
She call'd to Cerdon who stood near
Viewing the bloudy 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,
In story not to be believ'd:
And 'twould to us be shame enough,
Not to a[t]tempt to fetch him off.
I would (quoth he) venture a Limb
To second thee, and rescue him:
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
About their heads, to clear the ground;
And joining forces laid about
So fiercely, that th' amazed rout
Turn'd tail again, and straight begun,
As if the Devil drove, to run.
Mean while th' aproach'd the place where Bruin
Was now engag'd to mortal ruine:
The conquering foe they soon assail'd;
First Trulla stav'd, and Cerdon tail'd,
Until their Mastives loos'd their hold:
And yet alas! do what they could,
The worsted Bear came off with store
Of bloudy wounds, but all before.
For as Achilles dipt in Pond,
Was Anabaptized free from wound,
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
Encounter lost a Leathern parcel,
For as an Austrian Archduke once
Had one ear (which in Ducatoons
Is half the Coyn) in Battel par'd
Close to his head; so Bruin far'd:
But tugg'd and pull'd on th'other side,
Like Scrivener newly crucify'd;
Or like the late-corrected Leathern
Ears of the circumcised Brethren.
But gentle Trulla into th' Ring
He wore in's Nose, conveyed a string,
With which she march'd before, and led
The Warrior to a grassie Bed,
As Authors write, in a cool shade,
Which Eglentine and Roses made,
Close by a softly-murm'ring stream
Where Lovers us'd to loll and dream,
There leaving him to his repose,
Secured from pursuit of foes.
And w[a]nting nothing but a Song,
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.
For Orsin (who was more renown'd
For stout maintaining of his ground
In standing fights than for pursuit,
As being not so quick of foot)
Was not long able to keep pace
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,
And like to fall, not by the prowess,
But numbers of his Coward foes.
He rag'd and kept as heavy a coyl as
Stout Hercules for loss of Hylas,
Forcing the Valleys to repeat
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
More wistfully by many times,
Than in small Poets splay-foot Rhimes,
That make her, in their ruthful stories,
To answer to Inter'gatories,
And most unconscionably depose
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 whether, wicked Bruin,
Art thou fled to my—Eccho, ruin?
I thought th' hadst scorn'd to budge a step
For fear. (Quoth Eccho) Marry guep.
Am I not here to take thy [part?]
Then what has quail'd thy stubborn heart?
Have these Bones ratled, and this Head
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, Pish.
To run from those th' hadst 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
Nor what I have endur'd for thee,
Yet shame and honor might prevail
To keep thee thus from turning tail:
For who would grutch to spend his bloud in
His honors cause? Quoth she, a Puddin.
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
Should equal vengeance undergo;
And with their Bones and Flesh pay dear
For what he suffer'd, and his Bear.
This b'ing resolv'd, with equal speed
And rage he hasted to proceed
To action streight, and giving o'er
To search for Bruin any more,
He went in quest of Hudibras,
To find him out, where e'er he was:
And if he were above ground, vow'd
He'd ferret him, lurk where he wou'd.
To second thee, and rescue him:
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
About their heads, to clear the ground;
And joining forces laid about
So fiercely, that th' amazed rout
Turn'd tail again, and straight begun,
As if the Devil drove, to run.
Mean while th' aproach'd the place where Bruin
63
The conquering foe they soon assail'd;
First Trulla stav'd, and Cerdon tail'd,
Until their Mastives loos'd their hold:
And yet alas! do what they could,
The worsted Bear came off with store
Of bloudy wounds, but all before.
For as Achilles dipt in Pond,
Was Anabaptized free from wound,
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
Encounter lost a Leathern parcel,
For as an Austrian Archduke once
Had one ear (which in Ducatoons
Is half the Coyn) in Battel par'd
Close to his head; so Bruin far'd:
But tugg'd and pull'd on th'other side,
Like Scrivener newly crucify'd;
Or like the late-corrected Leathern
Ears of the circumcised Brethren.
But gentle Trulla into th' Ring
He wore in's Nose, conveyed a string,
With which she march'd before, and led
The Warrior to a grassie Bed,
As Authors write, in a cool shade,
Which Eglentine and Roses made,
Close by a softly-murm'ring stream
Where Lovers us'd to loll and dream,
There leaving him to his repose,
Secured from pursuit of foes.
And w[a]nting nothing but a Song,
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.
64
For stout maintaining of his ground
In standing fights than for pursuit,
As being not so quick of foot)
Was not long able to keep pace
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,
And like to fall, not by the prowess,
But numbers of his Coward foes.
He rag'd and kept as heavy a coyl as
Stout Hercules for loss of Hylas,
Forcing the Valleys to repeat
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
More wistfully by many times,
Than in small Poets splay-foot Rhimes,
That make her, in their ruthful stories,
To answer to Inter'gatories,
And most unconscionably depose
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 whether, wicked Bruin,
Art thou fled to my—Eccho, ruin?
I thought th' hadst scorn'd to budge a step
For fear. (Quoth Eccho) Marry guep.
Am I not here to take thy [part?]
Then what has quail'd thy stubborn heart?
Have these Bones ratled, and this Head
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, Pish.
65
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
Nor what I have endur'd for thee,
Yet shame and honor might prevail
To keep thee thus from turning tail:
For who would grutch to spend his bloud in
His honors cause? Quoth she, a Puddin.
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
Should equal vengeance undergo;
And with their Bones and Flesh pay dear
For what he suffer'd, and his Bear.
This b'ing resolv'd, with equal speed
And rage he hasted to proceed
To action streight, and giving o'er
To search for Bruin any more,
He went in quest of Hudibras,
To find him out, where e'er he was:
And if he were above ground, vow'd
He'd ferret him, lurk where he wou'd.
But scarce had he a furlong on
This resolute adventure gone,
When he encounter'd with that Crew
Whom Hudibras did late subdue.
Honor, Revenge, Contempt, and Shame,
Did equally their breasts enflame.
'Mong these the fierce Magnano was,
And Talgol foe to Hudibras;
Cerdon and Colon, Warriors stout
And resolute as ever fought:
Whom furious Orsin thus bespoke,
This resolute adventure gone,
When he encounter'd with that Crew
Whom Hudibras did late subdue.
Honor, Revenge, Contempt, and Shame,
Did equally their breasts enflame.
'Mong these the fierce Magnano was,
And Talgol foe to Hudibras;
Cerdon and Colon, Warriors stout
And resolute as ever fought:
Whom furious Orsin thus bespoke,
Shall we (quoth he) thus basely brook
The vile affront that paultry Ass
And feeble Scoundrel Hudibras,
With that more paultry Ragamuffin
Ralpho, with vapouring and huffing,
Have put upon us like tame Cattel,
As if th' had routed us in battel?
For my part, it shall ne'er be sed,
I for the washing gave my Head:
Nor did I turn my back for fear
Of them, but loosing of my Bear,
Which now I'm like to undergo;
For whether these fell wounds, or no,
He has receiv'd in fight are mortal,
Is more than all my skill can foretel.
Nor do I know what is become
Of him, more than the Pope of Rome.
But if I can but find them out
That cau'sd 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.
The vile affront that paultry Ass
66
With that more paultry Ragamuffin
Ralpho, with vapouring and huffing,
Have put upon us like tame Cattel,
As if th' had routed us in battel?
For my part, it shall ne'er be sed,
I for the washing gave my Head:
Nor did I turn my back for fear
Of them, but loosing of my Bear,
Which now I'm like to undergo;
For whether these fell wounds, or no,
He has receiv'd in fight are mortal,
Is more than all my skill can foretel.
Nor do I know what is become
Of him, more than the Pope of Rome.
But if I can but find them out
That cau'sd 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.
Quoth Cerdon, noble Orsin th' hast
Great reason to do as thou say'st,
And so has every body here
As well as thou hast, or thy Bear.
Others may do as they see good;
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 th' other mungrel Vermin, Ralph,
That brav'd us all in his behalf.
Thy Bear is safe and out of peril,
Though lugg'd indeed, and wounded very ill.
My self and Trulla made a shift
To help him out at a dead lift;
And having brought him bravely off,
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:
And forthwith put themselves in search
Of Hudibras upon their march.
Where leave we them a while, to tell
What the Victorious Knight befel:
For such, Crowdero being fast
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
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 Blews;
To mollifie the uneasie pang
Of ev'ry honorable bang.
Which b'ing by skilful Midwife drest,
He laid him down to take his rest.
Great reason to do as thou say'st,
And so has every body here
As well as thou hast, or thy Bear.
Others may do as they see good;
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 th' other mungrel Vermin, Ralph,
That brav'd us all in his behalf.
Thy Bear is safe and out of peril,
Though lugg'd indeed, and wounded very ill.
My self and Trulla made a shift
To help him out at a dead lift;
And having brought him bravely off,
Have left him where he's safe enough,
There let him rest; for if we stay,
The Slaves may hap to get away.
67
Their forces in the same design:
And forthwith put themselves in search
Of Hudibras upon their march.
Where leave we them a while, to tell
What the Victorious Knight befel:
For such, Crowdero being fast
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
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 Blews;
To mollifie the uneasie pang
Of ev'ry honorable 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,
By Cupid made, who took his stand
Upon a Widows Jointure-Land,
(For he, in all his amorous battels
No 'dvantage finds like Goods and Chattels)
Drew home his Bow, and aiming right,
Let fly an Arrow at the Knight.
The shaft against a Rib did glance,
And gall him in the Purtenance.
But time had somewhat swag'd his pain,
After he found his suit in vain,
For that proud Dame for whom his soul
Was burnt in's belly like a coal,
(That belly that so oft did ake
And suffer griping for her sake
Till purging Comfits and Ants Eggs
Had almost brought him off his Legs)
Us'd him so like a base Rascallion,
That old Pyg- (what d'y' call him) malion,
That cut his Mistress out of stone,
Had not so hard-a-hearted-one.
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 onely such
As scorn'd and hated her as much.
'Twas a strange Riddle of a Lady;
Not love, if any lov'd her, ha day!
So Cowards never use their might,
But against such as will not fight.
So some diseases have been found
Onely to seize upon the sound.
He that gets her by heart must say her
The back-way, like a Witches Prayer.
Mean while the Knight had no small task,
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,
Or rowing Scull, he's fain to love,
Look one way, and another move;
Or like a tumbler that does play
His game, and look another way:
Until he seize upon the Cony:
Just so does he 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 honor born.
Yet much he bore, till 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,
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;
But being brought so nigh by Fate,
The Victory h'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
His Dame too now his hand was in;
And that his valor and the honor
H' had newly gain'd might work upon her:
These reasons made his mouth to water
With amorous longings to be at her.
O'th' inside of a deadlier sort,
By Cupid made, who took his stand
Upon a Widows Jointure-Land,
(For he, in all his amorous battels
No 'dvantage finds like Goods and Chattels)
Drew home his Bow, and aiming right,
Let fly an Arrow at the Knight.
The shaft against a Rib did glance,
And gall him in the Purtenance.
But time had somewhat swag'd his pain,
After he found his suit in vain,
For that proud Dame for whom his soul
Was burnt in's belly like a coal,
(That belly that so oft did ake
And suffer griping for her sake
Till purging Comfits and Ants Eggs
Had almost brought him off his Legs)
Us'd him so like a base Rascallion,
68
That cut his Mistress out of stone,
Had not so hard-a-hearted-one.
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 onely such
As scorn'd and hated her as much.
'Twas a strange Riddle of a Lady;
Not love, if any lov'd her, ha day!
So Cowards never use their might,
But against such as will not fight.
So some diseases have been found
Onely to seize upon the sound.
He that gets her by heart must say her
The back-way, like a Witches Prayer.
Mean while the Knight had no small task,
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,
Or rowing Scull, he's fain to love,
Look one way, and another move;
Or like a tumbler that does play
His game, and look another way:
Until he seize upon the Cony:
Just so does he 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 honor born.
Yet much he bore, till 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,
That he resolv'd to wave his suit,
And either to renounce her quite,
69
This resolution b'ing put on,
He kept some months, and more had done;
But being brought so nigh by Fate,
The Victory h'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
His Dame too now his hand was in;
And that his valor and the honor
H' had newly gain'd might work upon her:
These reasons made his mouth to water
With amorous longings to be at her.
Thought 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 oppugne love,
And virtue envious ways can prove,
What may not he confide to do
That brings both love and virtue too?
But thou bring'st valor too and wit,
Two things that seldom fail to hit.
Valor'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 Conquerer?
Fortune th' audacious doth juvare,
But lets the timidous miscarry.
Then while the honour thou hast got
Is spick and span-new, piping hot,
Strike her up bravely thou had'st best,
And trust thy fortune with the rest.
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 oppugne love,
And virtue envious ways can prove,
What may not he confide to do
That brings both love and virtue too?
But thou bring'st valor too and wit,
Two things that seldom fail to hit.
Valor'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 Conquerer?
Fortune th' audacious doth juvare,
But lets the timidous miscarry.
Then while the honour thou hast got
Is spick and span-new, piping hot,
Strike her up bravely thou had'st best,
And trust thy fortune with the rest.
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 blew eyes
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;
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
Up to the Fort where he ensconc'd,
And had all th' avenues possest
About the place, from East to West.
That done, a while they made a halt,
To view the Ground, and where t'assault:
Then call'd a Councel, 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,
They now drew up t'attack the Fort.
When Hudibras about to enter
Upon another gate's adventure;
To Ralpho call'd aloud to arm,
Not dreaming of approaching storm.
Whether Dame Fortune, or the care
Of Angel bad, or Tutelare,
Did arm or thrust him on a danger,
To which he was an utter stranger:
That foresight might, or might not blot
The glory he had newly got;
Or to his shame it might be sed,
They took him napping in his bed:
To them we leave it to expound,
That deal in Sciences profound.
His Courser scarce he had bestrid,
And Ralpho that on which he rid,
When setting ope the Postern Gate,
To take the Field and sally at,
The Foe appear'd, drawn up and drill'd,
Ready to charge them in the field.
This somewhat startl'd the bold Knight,
Surpriz'd with th' unexpected sight
The bruises of his Bones and Flesh,
He thought began to smart afresh:
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,
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.
This is the same numerick 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
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.
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,
And make no doubt to overcome.
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 blew eyes
70
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;
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
Up to the Fort where he ensconc'd,
And had all th' avenues possest
About the place, from East to West.
That done, a while they made a halt,
To view the Ground, and where t'assault:
Then call'd a Councel, 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,
They now drew up t'attack the Fort.
When Hudibras about to enter
Upon another gate's adventure;
To Ralpho call'd aloud to arm,
Not dreaming of approaching storm.
Whether Dame Fortune, or the care
Of Angel bad, or Tutelare,
Did arm or thrust him on a danger,
To which he was an utter stranger:
That foresight might, or might not blot
The glory he had newly got;
Or to his shame it might be sed,
They took him napping in his bed:
To them we leave it to expound,
That deal in Sciences profound.
His Courser scarce he had bestrid,
And Ralpho that on which he rid,
When setting ope the Postern Gate,
To take the Field and sally at,
The Foe appear'd, drawn up and drill'd,
71
This somewhat startl'd the bold Knight,
Surpriz'd with th' unexpected sight
The bruises of his Bones and Flesh,
He thought began to smart afresh:
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,
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.
This is the same numerick 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
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.
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,
And make no doubt to overcome.
This said, his Courage to enflame,
He call'd upon his Mistriss name,
His Pistol next he cockt anew,
And out his nut-brown Whiniard drew.
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 Sympathetick speed
From heel of Knight to heel of Steed.
He call'd upon his Mistriss name,
His Pistol next he cockt anew,
And out his nut-brown Whiniard drew.
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,
72
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 handiblows.
When Orsin first let fly a stone
At Ralpho; not so huge a one
As that which Diomed did maul
Æneas on the Bum withal;
Yet big enough, if rightly hurl'd,
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.
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, prest close,
To come, pell-mell, to handiblows:
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:
As expert Warriors use to do,
When hand to hand they charge the foe.
This order the advent'rous Knight
Most Soldier-like observ'd in fight:
When Fortune (as she's wont) turn'd fickle.
And for the foe began to stickle.
The more shame for her Goody-ship,
To give so near a friend the slip.
For Colon chusing out a stone,
Levell'd so right, it thumpt upon
His manly panch with such a force,
As almost beat him off his Horse.
He loos'd his weapon, and the Rein;
But laying fast hold on the Mane
Preserv'd his seat: And as a Goose
In death contracts his Talons loose;
So did the Knight, and with one Claw
The tricker of his Pistol draw.
The Gun went off: and as it was
Still fatal to stout Hudibras,
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 randome 'mong the Enemy,
Pierc'd Talgol's Gabberdine, and grazing
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.
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 fal'n on,
He had inevitably done:
But he diverted with the care
Of Hudibras his wound forbare
To press th' advantage of his fortune,
While danger did the rest dishearten.
He had with Cerdon been engag'd
In close encounter, which both wag'd
So desp'rately, 'twas hard to say
Which side was like to get the day.
And now the busie work of death
Had tir'd them so, th' agreed to breath,
Preparing to renew the fight;
When th' heard the disaster of the Knight
And th' other party did divert
And force their sullen Rage to part
Ralpho prest up to Hudibras,
And Cerdon where Magnano was;
Each striving to confirm his party
With stout encouragements and hearty.
Quoth Ralpho, Courage, valiant Sir,
And let Revenge and Honour stir
Your spirits up, once more fall on,
The shatter'd Foe begins to run:
For if but half so well you knew
To use your Victory as subdue,
They durst not, after such a blow
As you have giv'n 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
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.
And speed advancing to engage,
Both parties now were drawn so close,
Almost to come to handiblows.
When Orsin first let fly a stone
At Ralpho; not so huge a one
As that which Diomed did maul
Æneas on the Bum withal;
Yet big enough, if rightly hurl'd,
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.
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, prest close,
To come, pell-mell, to handiblows:
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:
As expert Warriors use to do,
When hand to hand they charge the foe.
This order the advent'rous Knight
Most Soldier-like observ'd in fight:
When Fortune (as she's wont) turn'd fickle.
And for the foe began to stickle.
The more shame for her Goody-ship,
To give so near a friend the slip.
For Colon chusing out a stone,
Levell'd so right, it thumpt upon
His manly panch with such a force,
As almost beat him off his Horse.
He loos'd his weapon, and the Rein;
73
Preserv'd his seat: And as a Goose
In death contracts his Talons loose;
So did the Knight, and with one Claw
The tricker of his Pistol draw.
The Gun went off: and as it was
Still fatal to stout Hudibras,
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 randome 'mong the Enemy,
Pierc'd Talgol's Gabberdine, and grazing
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.
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 fal'n on,
He had inevitably done:
But he diverted with the care
Of Hudibras his wound forbare
To press th' advantage of his fortune,
While danger did the rest dishearten.
He had with Cerdon been engag'd
In close encounter, which both wag'd
So desp'rately, 'twas hard to say
Which side was like to get the day.
And now the busie work of death
Had tir'd them so, th' agreed to breath,
Preparing to renew the fight;
When th' heard the disaster of the Knight
And th' other party did divert
And force their sullen Rage to part
Ralpho prest up to Hudibras,
And Cerdon where Magnano was;
Each striving to confirm his party
74
Quoth Ralpho, Courage, valiant Sir,
And let Revenge and Honour stir
Your spirits up, once more fall on,
The shatter'd Foe begins to run:
For if but half so well you knew
To use your Victory as subdue,
They durst not, after such a blow
As you have giv'n 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
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.
Thus spoke the stout Squire; but was heard
By Hudibras with small regard.
His thoughts were fuller of the bang
He lately took, than Ralph's harangue;
To which he answer'd, Cruel fate
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.
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,
Or trivial basting, to despond:
Yet I'd be loath my days to curtal.
For if I thought my wounds not mortal,
Or that we'd time enough as yet
To make an honourable retreat,
'Twere the best course: but [if] they find
We fly, and leave our Arms behind,
For them to seize on, the dishonor
And danger too is such, I'll sooner
Stand to it boldly, and take quarter,
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.
By Hudibras with small regard.
His thoughts were fuller of the bang
He lately took, than Ralph's harangue;
To which he answer'd, Cruel fate
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.
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,
Or trivial basting, to despond:
Yet I'd be loath my days to curtal.
For if I thought my wounds not mortal,
Or that we'd time enough as yet
To make an honourable retreat,
'Twere the best course: but [if] they find
We fly, and leave our Arms behind,
75
And danger too is such, I'll sooner
Stand to it boldly, and take quarter,
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.
This said. the Squire with active speed,
Dismounted from his bony Steed,
To seize the Arms which by mischance
Fell from the bold Knight in a trance.
These being found out, and restor'd
To Hudibras, their nat'ral Lord,
The active Squire with might and main
Prepar'd in haste to mount again.
Thrice he assay'd to mount aloft,
But by his weighty Bum as oft
He was pull'd back: till having found
Th' advantage of the rising ground,
Thither he led his warlike Steed,
And having plac'd him right, with speed
Prepar'd again to scale the Beast.
When Orsin, who had newly drest
The bloudy scar upon the shoulder
Of Talgol with Promethean Powder,
And now was searching for the shot
That laid Magnano on the spot,
Beheld the sturdy Squire aforesaid
Preparing to climb up his Horse side.
He left his Cure, and laying hold
Upon his Arms with Courage bold
Cry'd out, 'Tis now no time to dally,
The Enemy begins to rally:
Let us that are unhurt and whole
Fall on, and happy man be's dole.
Dismounted from his bony Steed,
To seize the Arms which by mischance
Fell from the bold Knight in a trance.
These being found out, and restor'd
To Hudibras, their nat'ral Lord,
The active Squire with might and main
Prepar'd in haste to mount again.
Thrice he assay'd to mount aloft,
But by his weighty Bum as oft
He was pull'd back: till having found
Th' advantage of the rising ground,
Thither he led his warlike Steed,
And having plac'd him right, with speed
Prepar'd again to scale the Beast.
When Orsin, who had newly drest
The bloudy scar upon the shoulder
Of Talgol with Promethean Powder,
And now was searching for the shot
That laid Magnano on the spot,
Beheld the sturdy Squire aforesaid
Preparing to climb up his Horse side.
He left his Cure, and laying hold
Upon his Arms with Courage bold
Cry'd out, 'Tis now no time to dally,
The Enemy begins to rally:
Let us that are unhurt and whole
Fall on, and happy man be's dole.
This said, like to a Thunderbolt
He flew with fury to th' assault,
Striving the Enemy to attack
Before he reacht his Horse's back.
Ralpho was mounted now, and gotten
O'erthwart his Beast with active vau'ting.
Wrigling his body to recover
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;
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 swoun.
Mean while the Knight began to rowse
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 Bloud,
That from his wounded Body flow'd.
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,
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.
The Knight his Sword had onely 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 attac'd the Knight
Upon his quarters opposite.
But as a Bark that in foul weather,
Toss'd by two adverse winds together,
Is bruis'd and beaten too and fro,
And knows not which to turn him to:
So far'd the Knight between two foes,
And knew not which of them t'oppose.
Till Orsin charging with his Lance
At Hudibras, by spightful chance
Hit Cerdon such a bang, as stunn'd
And laid him flat upon the ground.
At this the Knight began to chear up,
And raising up himself on stirrup,
Cry'd out Victoria; lie thou there,
And I shall straight dispatch another,
To bear thee company in death:
But first I'll halt awhile and breath.
As well he might: for Orsin griev'd
At th' wound that Cerdon had receiv'd
Ran to relieve him with his lore
And cure the hurt he made before.
Mean while the Knight had wheel'd about,
To breathe himself, and next find out
Th' advantage of the ground, where best
He might the ruffled foe infest.
This b'ing resolv'd, he spurr'd his Steed;
To run at Orsin with full speed,
While he was busie in the care
Of Cerdon's wound, and unaware:
But he was quick, and had already
Unto the part apply'd remedy;
And seeing th' enemy prepar'd,
Drew up, and stood upon his guard.
Then like a Warrior right expert
And skilful in the martial Art,
The subtle Knight straight made a halt,
And judg'd it best to stay th' assault,
Until he had reliev'd the Squire,
And then (in order) to retire;
Or, as occasion should invite,
With Forces join'd renew the fight.
Ralpho by this time disentranc'd,
Upon his Bum himself advanc'd,
Though sorely bruis'd; his Limbs all o're
With ruthless bangs were stiff and sore.
Right fain he would have got upon
His feet again, to get him gone;
When Hudibras to aid him came.
He flew with fury to th' assault,
76
Before he reacht his Horse's back.
Ralpho was mounted now, and gotten
O'erthwart his Beast with active vau'ting.
Wrigling his body to recover
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;
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 swoun.
Mean while the Knight began to rowse
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 Bloud,
That from his wounded Body flow'd.
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,
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.
The Knight his Sword had onely 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 attac'd the Knight
Upon his quarters opposite.
But as a Bark that in foul weather,
Toss'd by two adverse winds together,
Is bruis'd and beaten too and fro,
And knows not which to turn him to:
77
And knew not which of them t'oppose.
Till Orsin charging with his Lance
At Hudibras, by spightful chance
Hit Cerdon such a bang, as stunn'd
And laid him flat upon the ground.
At this the Knight began to chear up,
And raising up himself on stirrup,
Cry'd out Victoria; lie thou there,
And I shall straight dispatch another,
To bear thee company in death:
But first I'll halt awhile and breath.
As well he might: for Orsin griev'd
At th' wound that Cerdon had receiv'd
Ran to relieve him with his lore
And cure the hurt he made before.
Mean while the Knight had wheel'd about,
To breathe himself, and next find out
Th' advantage of the ground, where best
He might the ruffled foe infest.
This b'ing resolv'd, he spurr'd his Steed;
To run at Orsin with full speed,
While he was busie in the care
Of Cerdon's wound, and unaware:
But he was quick, and had already
Unto the part apply'd remedy;
And seeing th' enemy prepar'd,
Drew up, and stood upon his guard.
Then like a Warrior right expert
And skilful in the martial Art,
The subtle Knight straight made a halt,
And judg'd it best to stay th' assault,
Until he had reliev'd the Squire,
And then (in order) to retire;
Or, as occasion should invite,
With Forces join'd renew the fight.
Ralpho by this time disentranc'd,
Upon his Bum himself advanc'd,
Though sorely bruis'd; his Limbs all o're
With ruthless bangs were stiff and sore.
78
His feet again, to get him gone;
When Hudibras to aid him came.
Quoth he, (and call'd him by his name)
Courage, the day at length is ours,
And we once more as Conquerors,
Have both the Field and Honor won,
The Foe is profligate and run;
I mean all such as can, for some
This hand hath sent to their long home;
And some lie sprauling on the ground,
With many a gash and bloody wound.
Cæsar himself could never say
He got two Victories in a day;
As I have done, that can say, Twice I
In one day, Veni, vidi, vici,
The foe's so numerous, that we
Cannot so often vincere
As they perire, and yet enough
Be left to strike an after-blow.
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.
Courage, the day at length is ours,
And we once more as Conquerors,
Have both the Field and Honor won,
The Foe is profligate and run;
I mean all such as can, for some
This hand hath sent to their long home;
And some lie sprauling on the ground,
With many a gash and bloody wound.
Cæsar himself could never say
He got two Victories in a day;
As I have done, that can say, Twice I
In one day, Veni, vidi, vici,
The foe's so numerous, that we
Cannot so often vincere
As they perire, and yet enough
Be left to strike an after-blow.
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
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.
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
To those who now are run away.
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.
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
To those who now are run away.
That shalt thou not (quoth Hudibras)
We read, the Ancients held it was
More honorable far Servare
Civem, than slay an adversary.
The one we oft to day have done;
The other shall dispatch anon.
And though th' art of a different Church,
I will not leave thee in the lurch.
This said, he jogg'd his good Steed nigher,
And steer'd him gently toward the Squire.
Then bowing down his Body, stretcht
His Hand out, and at Ralpho reacht;
When Trulla, whom he did not mind,
Charg'd him like Lightening behind.
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 startl'd him was got.
But having found the worst was past,
She fell to her own work at last
The pillage of the Prisoners,
Which all in feat of Arms was hers:
And now to plunder Ralph she flew,
When Hudibras his hard fate drew
To succor him; for as he bow'd
To help him up, she laid a load
Of blows so heavy, and plac'd so well,
On th' other side, that down he fell.
We read, the Ancients held it was
79
Civem, than slay an adversary.
The one we oft to day have done;
The other shall dispatch anon.
And though th' art of a different Church,
I will not leave thee in the lurch.
This said, he jogg'd his good Steed nigher,
And steer'd him gently toward the Squire.
Then bowing down his Body, stretcht
His Hand out, and at Ralpho reacht;
When Trulla, whom he did not mind,
Charg'd him like Lightening behind.
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 startl'd him was got.
But having found the worst was past,
She fell to her own work at last
The pillage of the Prisoners,
Which all in feat of Arms was hers:
And now to plunder Ralph she flew,
When Hudibras his hard fate drew
To succor him; for as he bow'd
To help him up, she laid a load
Of blows so heavy, and plac'd so well,
On th' other side, that down he fell.
Yield Scoundrel base, (quoth she) or dye;
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 afresh,
I'll wave my Title to thy flesh,
Thy Arms and Baggage, now my right:
And if thou hast the heart to try't,
I'll lend [thee] back thy self awhile,
And once more for that carcass vile
Fight upon tick—Quoth Hudibras,
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,
And some to other worlds dispatcht,
Now with a feeble Spinster matcht,
Will blush with bloud ignoble stain'd,
By which no honor's to be gain'd.
But if thou'lt take m'advice in this,
Consider while thou may'st, what 'tis
To interrupt a Victor's course,
B' opposing such a trivial force.
For if with Conquest I come off,
(And that I shall do sure enough)
Quarter thou canst not have, nor grace,
By Law of Arms in such a case;
Both which I now do offer freely.
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 afresh,
I'll wave my Title to thy flesh,
Thy Arms and Baggage, now my right:
And if thou hast the heart to try't,
I'll lend [thee] back thy self awhile,
And once more for that carcass vile
Fight upon tick—Quoth Hudibras,
Thou offer'st nobly, valiant Lass,
And I shall take thee at thy word.
80
That sword which has so oft this day
Through Squadrons of my foes made way,
And some to other worlds dispatcht,
Now with a feeble Spinster matcht,
Will blush with bloud ignoble stain'd,
By which no honor's to be gain'd.
But if thou'lt take m'advice in this,
Consider while thou may'st, what 'tis
To interrupt a Victor's course,
B' opposing such a trivial force.
For if with Conquest I come off,
(And that I shall do sure enough)
Quarter thou canst not have, nor grace,
By Law of Arms in such a case;
Both which I now do offer freely.
I scorn (quoth she) thou Coxcomb silly,
(Clapping her hand upon her breech,
To shew how much [s]he priz'd his speech)
Quarter or Counsel from a foe:
If thou canst force me to it, do.
But lest it should again be sed,
When I have once more won thy head,
I took thee napping unprepar'd,
Arm and betake thee to thy Guard.
(Clapping her hand upon her breech,
To shew how much [s]he priz'd his speech)
Quarter or Counsel from a foe:
If thou canst force me to it, do.
But lest it should again be sed,
When I have once more won thy head,
I took thee napping unprepar'd,
Arm and betake thee to thy Guard.
This said, she to her Tackle fell,
And on the Knight let fall a peal
Of blows so fierce, and prest so home,
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,
The blows he felt, or was to feel,
Although the' already made him reel,
Honor, despight, revenge, and shame,
At once unto his stomach came;
Which fir'd it so, he rais'd his Arm
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 'em;
And by oblique diversion broke 'em;
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,
And she with quick and cunning slight
Avoiding it, the force and weight
He charg'd upon it was so great,
As almost sway'd him to the ground.
No sooner she th' advantage found,
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
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 Honor, than thy Sword.
A Man of War to damn his Soul,
In basely breaking his Parole.
And when before the Fight, th' hadst vow'd
To give no quarter in cold blood:
Now thou hast got me for a Tartar,
To make m'against my will take quarter?
Why dost not put me to the sword,
But cowardly fly from thy word?
Quoth Hudibras, the days thine own;
Thou and thy stars have cast me down:
My Laurels are transplanted now,
And flourish on thy conqu'ring brow:
My loss of Honor's great enough,
Thou need'st not brand it with a scoff:
Sarcasmes may eclipse thine own,
But cannot blur my lost renown:
I am not now in Fortune's power,
He that is down can fall no lower.
The ancient Hero's were illustrious
For b'ing benigne, and not blustrous,
Against a vanquish'd foe: their swords
Were sharp and trencheant, not their words;
And did in fight but cut work out
T'employ their courtesies about.
And on the Knight let fall a peal
Of blows so fierce, and prest so home,
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,
The blows he felt, or was to feel,
Although the' already made him reel,
Honor, despight, revenge, and shame,
At once unto his stomach came;
Which fir'd it so, he rais'd his Arm
81
Of blows so terrible and thick,
As if he meant to hash her quick.
But she upon her truncheon took 'em;
And by oblique diversion broke 'em;
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,
And she with quick and cunning slight
Avoiding it, the force and weight
He charg'd upon it was so great,
As almost sway'd him to the ground.
No sooner she th' advantage found,
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
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 Honor, than thy Sword.
A Man of War to damn his Soul,
In basely breaking his Parole.
And when before the Fight, th' hadst vow'd
To give no quarter in cold blood:
Now thou hast got me for a Tartar,
To make m'against my will take quarter?
Why dost not put me to the sword,
But cowardly fly from thy word?
Quoth Hudibras, the days thine own;
Thou and thy stars have cast me down:
My Laurels are transplanted now,
And flourish on thy conqu'ring brow:
My loss of Honor's great enough,
Thou need'st not brand it with a scoff:
Sarcasmes may eclipse thine own,
82
I am not now in Fortune's power,
He that is down can fall no lower.
The ancient Hero's were illustrious
For b'ing benigne, and not blustrous,
Against a vanquish'd foe: their swords
Were sharp and trencheant, not their words;
And did in fight but cut work out
T'employ their courtesies about.
Quoth she, although thou hast deserv'd,
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.
Thy Arms, thy Liberty, beside
All that's o'th' out-side of thy Hide,
Are mine by Military Law,
Of which I will not bate one straw:
The rest, thy Life and Limbs, once more,
Though doubly forfeit, I restore.
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.
Thy Arms, thy Liberty, beside
All that's o'th' out-side of thy Hide,
Are mine by Military Law,
Of which I will not bate one straw:
The rest, thy Life and Limbs, once more,
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,
Of thine own party, I let go,
And gave them life and freedom too,
Both Dogs and Bears, upon their parol,
Whom I took pris'ners in this quarrel.
For me to treat, or stipulate;
What thou Command'st I must obey:
Yet those whom I expugn'd to day,
Of thine own party, I let go,
And gave them life and freedom too,
Both Dogs and Bears, upon their parol,
Whom I took pris'ners in this quarrel.
Quoth Trulla, Wh[e]ther thou or they
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;
Where still he lies, and with regret
His generous Bowels rage and fret.
But now thy Carcass shall redeem,
And serve to be exchange for him.
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;
Where still he lies, and with regret
His generous Bowels rage and fret.
83
And serve to be exchange for him.
This said, the Knight did straight submit,
And laid his weapons at her feet.
Next he disrob'd his Gaberdine,
And with it did himself resigne.
She took it, and forthwith devesting
The Mantle that she wore, said jesting,
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
Port-cannons, Perriwigs, and Feathers;
Just so the proud insulting Lass
Array'd and dighted Hudibras.
And laid his weapons at her feet.
Next he disrob'd his Gaberdine,
And with it did himself resigne.
She took it, and forthwith devesting
The Mantle that she wore, said jesting,
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
Port-cannons, Perriwigs, and Feathers;
Just so the proud insulting Lass
Array'd and dighted Hudibras.
Mean while the other Champions, [y]erst
In hurry of the fight disperst,
Arriv'd when Trulla 'd won the day,
To share in th' Honor and the Prey,
And out of Hudibras his Hide
With vengeance to be satisfi'd;
Which now they were about to pour
Upon him in a wooden showr.
But Trulla thrust her self between,
And striding o'er his back agen,
She brandisht o'er her head his sword,
And vow'd they should not break her word;
Sh' had given him quarter, and her blood
Or theirs, should make their quarter good.
For she was bound by Law of Arms
To see him safe from further harms.
In Dungeon deep Crowdero cast
By Hudibras as yet lay fast,
Where to the hard and ruthless stones
His great Heart made perpetual mones.
Him she resolv'd that Hudibras
Should ransome, and supply his place.
This stopt the 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:
Crowdero ought to be releas'd;
Nor could that any way be done
So well as this she pitcht upon:
For who a better could imagine?
This therefore they resolv'd t'engage in.
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,
And Talgol that which Ralpho prest,
Whom stout Magnano, valiant Cerdon,
And Colon waited as a guard on,
All ush'ring Trulla, in the reer
With th' Arms of either prisoner.
In this proud order and array
They put themselves upon their way,
Striving to reach th' inchanted Castle,
Where stout Crowdero in durance lay still.
Thither with greater speed, than shows
And triumphs over conquer'd foes
Do use t'allow, or then the Bears
Or Pageants born before Lord Mayors
Are wont to use, they soon arriv'd
In order Soldier-like contriv'd,
Still marching in a warlike posture,
As sit for Battel as for Muster.
The Knight and Squire they first unhorse,
And bending 'gainst their Fort their force,
They all advanc'd, and round about
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 left the Fort;
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,
Restor'd t'his Fiddle and his Case,
And liberty, his thirsty rage
With lushious vengeance to asswage.
For he no sooner was at large,
But Trulla straight brought on her charge,
And in the self-same Limbo put
The Knight and Squire where he was shut.
Where leaving them i'th' wretched hole,
Their bangs and durance to condole
Confin'd and conjur'd into narrow
Enchanted Mansion, to know sorrow;
In the same order and array
Which they advanc'd, they marcht away.
In hurry of the fight disperst,
Arriv'd when Trulla 'd won the day,
To share in th' Honor and the Prey,
And out of Hudibras his Hide
With vengeance to be satisfi'd;
Which now they were about to pour
Upon him in a wooden showr.
But Trulla thrust her self between,
And striding o'er his back agen,
She brandisht o'er her head his sword,
And vow'd they should not break her word;
Sh' had given him quarter, and her blood
Or theirs, should make their quarter good.
For she was bound by Law of Arms
To see him safe from further harms.
In Dungeon deep Crowdero cast
By Hudibras as yet lay fast,
Where to the hard and ruthless stones
His great Heart made perpetual mones.
Him she resolv'd that Hudibras
Should ransome, and supply his place.
84
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:
Crowdero ought to be releas'd;
Nor could that any way be done
So well as this she pitcht upon:
For who a better could imagine?
This therefore they resolv'd t'engage in.
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,
And Talgol that which Ralpho prest,
Whom stout Magnano, valiant Cerdon,
And Colon waited as a guard on,
All ush'ring Trulla, in the reer
With th' Arms of either prisoner.
In this proud order and array
They put themselves upon their way,
Striving to reach th' inchanted Castle,
Where stout Crowdero in durance lay still.
Thither with greater speed, than shows
And triumphs over conquer'd foes
Do use t'allow, or then the Bears
Or Pageants born before Lord Mayors
Are wont to use, they soon arriv'd
In order Soldier-like contriv'd,
Still marching in a warlike posture,
As sit for Battel as for Muster.
The Knight and Squire they first unhorse,
And bending 'gainst their Fort their force,
They all advanc'd, and round about
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
85
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,
Restor'd t'his Fiddle and his Case,
And liberty, his thirsty rage
With lushious vengeance to asswage.
For he no sooner was at large,
But Trulla straight brought on her charge,
And in the self-same Limbo put
The Knight and Squire where he was shut.
Where leaving them i'th' wretched hole,
Their bangs and durance to condole
Confin'd and conjur'd into narrow
Enchanted Mansion, to know sorrow;
In the same order and array
Which they advanc'd, they marcht away.
But Hudibras, who scorn'd to stoop
To Fortune, or be said to droop,
Chear'd up himself with ends of Verse,
And sayings of Philosophers.
Quoth he, Th' one half of Man, his Mind
Is Sui juris unconfin'd,
And cannot be laid by the heels,
What e'er the other moiety feels.
'Tis not Restraint or Liberty
That makes Men prisoners or free;
But perturbations that possess
The Mind or Æquanimities.
The whole world was not half so wide
To Alexander when he cry'd,
Because h'had but one to subdue,
As was a paultry narrow tub to
Diogenes, who is not said
(For ought that ever I could read)
To whine, put finger i'th' eye, and sob
Because h'had ne'er another Tub.
The ancient[s] make two several kinds
Of Prowess in heroick minds,
The Active and the Passive valiant;
Both which are pari libra gallant:
For both to give blows and to carry,
In fights are equenecessary;
But in defeats, the Passive stout
Are always found to stand it out
Most desp'rately, and to out-doe
The Active, 'gainst a conquering foe.
Though we with blacks and blews are suggil'd,
Or, as the vulgar say are cudgel'd:
He that is valiant, and dares fight,
Though drubb'd, can lose no honor by't.
Honour's a lease for lives to come,
And cannot be extended from
The legal Tenant: 'tis a Chattel,
Not to be forfeited in Battel.
If he that in the field is slain,
Be in the Bed of Honor lain:
He that is beaten may be sed
To lie in Honor's Truckle-bed.
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 Valor in a low estate
Is most admir'd and wonder'd at.
To Fortune, or be said to droop,
Chear'd up himself with ends of Verse,
And sayings of Philosophers.
Quoth he, Th' one half of Man, his Mind
Is Sui juris unconfin'd,
And cannot be laid by the heels,
What e'er the other moiety feels.
'Tis not Restraint or Liberty
That makes Men prisoners or free;
But perturbations that possess
The Mind or Æquanimities.
The whole world was not half so wide
To Alexander when he cry'd,
Because h'had but one to subdue,
As was a paultry narrow tub to
Diogenes, who is not said
(For ought that ever I could read)
To whine, put finger i'th' eye, and sob
Because h'had ne'er another Tub.
86
Of Prowess in heroick minds,
The Active and the Passive valiant;
Both which are pari libra gallant:
For both to give blows and to carry,
In fights are equenecessary;
But in defeats, the Passive stout
Are always found to stand it out
Most desp'rately, and to out-doe
The Active, 'gainst a conquering foe.
Though we with blacks and blews are suggil'd,
Or, as the vulgar say are cudgel'd:
He that is valiant, and dares fight,
Though drubb'd, can lose no honor by't.
Honour's a lease for lives to come,
And cannot be extended from
The legal Tenant: 'tis a Chattel,
Not to be forfeited in Battel.
If he that in the field is slain,
Be in the Bed of Honor lain:
He that is beaten may be sed
To lie in Honor's Truckle-bed.
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 Valor in a low estate
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.
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
Know you to charge, but not to draw off.
For who without a Cap and Bauble,
Having subdu'd a Bear and Rabble,
And might with Honor have come off,
Would put it to a second proof:
A politick exploit, right fit
For Presbyterian Zeal and Wit.
We may by being beaten grow;
But none that see how here we sit
Will judge us overgrown with Wit.
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
Know you to charge, but not to draw off.
For who without a Cap and Bauble,
87
And might with Honor have come off,
Would put it to a second proof:
A politick exploit, right fit
For Presbyterian Zeal and Wit.
Quoth Hudibras, That Cuckolds tone,
Ralpho, thou always harp'st upon:
When tho[u] at any thing would'st rail,
Thou mak'st Presbytery thy 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.
As if Presbytery were a standard
To size whats'ever's to be slander'd.
Dost not remember how this day
Thou to my Beard wast bold to say,
That thou could'st prove Bear-baiting equal
With Synods, Orthodox and legal?
Do if thou can'st, for I deny't,
And dare thee to't with all thy light:
Ralpho, thou always harp'st upon:
When tho[u] at any thing would'st rail,
Thou mak'st Presbytery thy 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.
As if Presbytery were a standard
To size whats'ever's to be slander'd.
Dost not remember how this day
Thou to my Beard wast bold to say,
That thou could'st prove Bear-baiting equal
With Synods, Orthodox and legal?
Do if thou can'st, for I deny't,
And dare thee to't with all thy light:
Quoth Ralpho, Truely that is no
Hard matter for a man to do,
That has but any Guts in's Brains,
And could believe it worth his pains,
But since you dare and urge me to it,
You'l find I've light enough to do it.
Hard matter for a man to do,
That has but any Guts in's Brains,
And could believe it worth his pains,
But since you dare and urge me to it,
You'l find I've light enough to do it.
Synods are mystical Bear-gardens,
Where Elders, Deputies, Church-wardens,
And other Members of the Court,
Manage the Babylonish sport.
For Prolocutor, Scribe, and Bearward,
Do differ onely in a mere word.
Both are but several Synagogues
Of carnal Men, and Bears and Dogs:
Both Antichristian Assemblies,
To mischief bent as far's in them lies
Both stave and tail, with fierce contests,
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;
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;
Then whom th' have less humanity,
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:
As is demonstrated at full
By him that baited the Popes Bull.
Bears naturally are Beasts of prey,
That live by Rapine, so do they;
What are their Orders, Constitutions,
Church Censures, Curses, Absolutions,
But sev'ral mystick chains they make,
To tye poor Christians to the stake?
And then set Heathen Officers,
Instead of Dogs, about their Ears.
For to prohibit and dispence,
To find out, or to make offence:
Of Hell and Heaven to dispose;
To play with Souls at fast and lose;
To set what Characters they please,
And mulcts of sin or Godliness;
Reduce the Church to Gospel-Order,
By Rapine, Sacriledge, and Murder;
To make Presbytery supreme,
And Kings themselves submit to them;
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
Are dispensations and gifts,
There Godliness becomes mere ware,
And ev'ry Synod but a Fair.
Where Elders, Deputies, Church-wardens,
And other Members of the Court,
Manage the Babylonish sport.
For Prolocutor, Scribe, and Bearward,
Do differ onely in a mere word.
Both are but several Synagogues
Of carnal Men, and Bears and Dogs:
Both Antichristian Assemblies,
To mischief bent as far's in them lies
Both stave and tail, with fierce contests,
88
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;
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;
Then whom th' have less humanity,
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:
As is demonstrated at full
By him that baited the Popes Bull.
Bears naturally are Beasts of prey,
That live by Rapine, so do they;
What are their Orders, Constitutions,
Church Censures, Curses, Absolutions,
But sev'ral mystick chains they make,
To tye poor Christians to the stake?
And then set Heathen Officers,
Instead of Dogs, about their Ears.
For to prohibit and dispence,
To find out, or to make offence:
Of Hell and Heaven to dispose;
To play with Souls at fast and lose;
To set what Characters they please,
And mulcts of sin or Godliness;
Reduce the Church to Gospel-Order,
By Rapine, Sacriledge, and Murder;
To make Presbytery supreme,
And Kings themselves submit to them;
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
89
There Godliness becomes mere ware,
And ev'ry Synod but a Fair.
Synods are whelps of th' Inquisition,
A mungrel breed of like pernicion,
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,
The Phisiognomy 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.
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 Hand[k]erchief about the neck
(Canonical Crabat 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)
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;
To rule is to be sanctifi'd:
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.
Bell and the Dragons 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,
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,
When Butchers were the only Clerks,
Elders and Presbyters of Kirks,
Whose Directory was to Kill;
And some believe it is so still.
The onely diff'rence is, that then
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.
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
A Tithe Pig Metropolitane:
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,
More haughty and severe in's place
Than Gregory and Boniface.
Such Church must (surely) be a Monster
With many heads: for if we conster
What in th' Apocalypse we find,
According to th' Apostles 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.
A mungrel breed of like pernicion,
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,
The Phisiognomy 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.
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 Hand[k]erchief about the neck
(Canonical Crabat of Smeck,
Smectymnius was a Club of Parliamentary Holders-forth, The Characters of whose Names and Talents were by themselves exprest, in that senseless insignificant word; They wore Handkerchers about their Necks for a Note of Distinction, (as the Officers of the Parliament Army then did) which afterwards degenerated into Carnal Crabats.
From whom the Institution came
When Church and State they set on flame,
And worn by them as badges then
Of Spiritual Warfaring Men)
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;
To rule is to be sanctifi'd:
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.
Bell and the Dragons Chaplains were
More moderate than these by far:
For they (poor Knaves) were glad to cheat,
To get their Wives and Children Meat:
90
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,
When Butchers were the only Clerks,
Elders and Presbyters of Kirks,
Whose Directory was to Kill;
And some believe it is so still.
The onely diff'rence is, that then
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.
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
A Tithe Pig Metropolitane:
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,
More haughty and severe in's place
Than Gregory and Boniface.
Such Church must (surely) be a Monster
With many heads: for if we conster
What in th' Apocalypse we find,
According to th' Apostles 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.
Lay-Elder, Simeon to Levi,
Whose little finger is as heavy
As loins of Patriarchs, Prince-Prelate,
Archbishop-secular. This Zelot
Is of a mungrel, divers kind,
Clerick before, and Lay behind;
A Lawless Linsy-woolsy Brother,
Half of one Order, half another;
A Creature of amphibious nature,
On Land a Beast, a Fish in Water,
That always preys on Grace, or Sin;
A Sheep without, a Wolf within.
This fierce Inquisitor has chief
Dominion over Mens Belief
And Manners: Can pronounce a Saint
Idolatrous, or ignorant,
When superciliously he sifts,
Through coursest Boulter, others gifts.
For all Men live and judge amiss
Whose Talents jump not just with his.
He'll lay on Gifts with hands, and place
On dullest noddle light and grace,
The manufacture of the Kirk,
Whose Pastors are but th' Handiwork
Of his Mechanick Paws, instilling
Divinity in them by feeling.
From whence they start up chosen Vessels,
Made by Contact, as Men get Meazles.
So Cardinals, they say, do grope
At th' other end the new made Pope.
Whose little finger is as heavy
As loins of Patriarchs, Prince-Prelate,
91
Is of a mungrel, divers kind,
Clerick before, and Lay behind;
A Lawless Linsy-woolsy Brother,
Half of one Order, half another;
A Creature of amphibious nature,
On Land a Beast, a Fish in Water,
That always preys on Grace, or Sin;
A Sheep without, a Wolf within.
This fierce Inquisitor has chief
Dominion over Mens Belief
And Manners: Can pronounce a Saint
Idolatrous, or ignorant,
When superciliously he sifts,
Through coursest Boulter, others gifts.
For all Men live and judge amiss
Whose Talents jump not just with his.
He'll lay on Gifts with hands, and place
On dullest noddle light and grace,
The manufacture of the Kirk,
Whose Pastors are but th' Handiwork
Of his Mechanick Paws, instilling
Divinity in them by feeling.
From whence they start up chosen Vessels,
Made by Contact, as Men get Meazles.
So Cardinals, they say, do grope
At th' other end the new made Pope.
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
Are false, and built upon mistake.
And I shall bring you, with your pack
Of Falacies, t'Elenchi back;
And put your Arguments in mood
And figure to be understood.
I'll force you by right ratiocination
To leave your Vitilitigation,
And make you keep to th' question close,
And argue Dialectic ως.
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
Are false, and built upon mistake.
And I shall bring you, with your pack
Of Falacies, t'Elenchi back;
And put your Arguments in mood
And figure to be understood.
I'll force you by right ratiocination
To leave your Vitilitigation,
92
And argue Dialectic ως.
The Question then, to state it first,
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.
If so, not worst; for if th' are idem,
Why then, Tantundem dat tantidem.
For if they are the same, by course
Neither is better, neither worse.
But I deny they are the same,
More than a Maggot and I am.
That both are Animalia,
I grant, but not Rationalia:
For though they do agree in kind,
Specifick difference we find.
And can no more make Bears of these,
Than prove my Horse is Socrates.
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.
If so, not worst; for if th' are idem,
Why then, Tantundem dat tantidem.
For if they are the same, by course
Neither is better, neither worse.
But I deny they are the same,
More than a Maggot and I am.
That both are Animalia,
I grant, but not Rationalia:
For though they do agree in kind,
Specifick difference we find.
And can no more make Bears of these,
Than prove my Horse is Socrates.
That Synods are Bear-gardens too,
Thou dost affirm; but I say no:
And thus I prove it, in a word,
Whats'ever Assembly's not impowr'd
To censure, curse, absolve, and ordain,
Can be no Synod: but Bear-garden
Has no such pow'r, Ergo 'tis none.
And so thy Sophistry's o'erthrown.
Thou dost affirm; but I say no:
And thus I prove it, in a word,
Whats'ever Assembly's not impowr'd
To censure, curse, absolve, and ordain,
Can be no Synod: but Bear-garden
Has no such pow'r, Ergo 'tis none.
And so thy Sophistry's o'erthrown.
But yet we are beside the Question
Which thou did'st 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,
Is held by all: They'r 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;
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 Bear's a savage Beast, of all
Most ugly and unnatural,
Whelpt without form, until the Dam
Have lickt him into shape and frame;
But all thy light can ne'er evict
That ever Synod-man was lickt;
Or brought to any other fashion
Than his own Will and Inclination.
Which thou did'st 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,
Is held by all: They'r better then.
For Bears and Dogs on four Legs go,
As Beasts, but Synod-men on Two.
93
But prove that Synod-men have tails;
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 Bear's a savage Beast, of all
Most ugly and unnatural,
Whelpt without form, until the Dam
Have lickt him into shape and frame;
But all thy light can ne'er evict
That ever Synod-man was lickt;
Or brought to any other fashion
Than his own Will and Inclination.
But thou dost further yet in this
Oppugne thy self and sense, that is,
Thou would'st have Presbyters to go
For Bears and Dogs, and Bearwards too.
A strange Chimæra of Beasts and Men,
Made up of pieces Heterogene,
Such as in Nature never met
In eodem Subjecto yet.
Oppugne thy self and sense, that is,
Thou would'st have Presbyters to go
For Bears and Dogs, and Bearwards too.
A strange Chimæra of Beasts and Men,
Made up of pieces Heterogene,
Such as in Nature never met
In eodem Subjecto yet.
Thy other Arguments are all
Supposures, Hypothetical,
That do but beg, and we may chuse
Either to grant them, or refuse.
Much thou hast said, which I know when,
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 sed,
That arguing with me, broke my head,
And tore a handful of my Beard:
The self-same Cavils then I heard,
When b'ing in hot dispute about
This Controversie, we fell out;
And what thou know'st I answer'd then,
Will serve to answer thee agen.
Quoth Ralpho, Nothing but th' abuse
Of Humane Learning you produce;
Learning that Cobweb of the Brain,
Profane, erronious, and vain;
A trade of knowledge as repleat
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,
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;
That renders all the avenues
To Truth impervious and abstruse,
By making plain things, in debate,
By Art, perplext and intricate:
For nothing goes for Sense or Light
That will not with old rules jump right.
As if Rules were not in the Schools
Deriv'd from Truth, but Truth from Rules.
Supposures, Hypothetical,
That do but beg, and we may chuse
Either to grant them, or refuse.
Much thou hast said, which I know when,
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 sed,
That arguing with me, broke my head,
And tore a handful of my Beard:
The self-same Cavils then I heard,
When b'ing in hot dispute about
This Controversie, we fell out;
And what thou know'st I answer'd then,
Will serve to answer thee agen.
94
Of Humane Learning you produce;
Learning that Cobweb of the Brain,
Profane, erronious, and vain;
A trade of knowledge as repleat
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,
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;
That renders all the avenues
To Truth impervious and abstruse,
By making plain things, in debate,
By Art, perplext and intricate:
For nothing goes for Sense or Light
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.
For as in Sword-and-Buckler Fight,
All blows do on the Target light:
So when Men argue, the great'st part
O'th' Contest falls on terms of Art,
Until the Fustian stuff be spent,
And then they fall to th' Argument.
Is good for nothing but Contention.
For as in Sword-and-Buckler Fight,
All blows do on the Target light:
So when Men argue, the great'st part
O'th' Contest falls on terms of Art,
Until the Fustian stuff be spent,
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 sensless as untrue,
But to the former opposite,
And contrary as black to white;
Mere Disparata, that concerning
Presbytery, this Humane Learning;
Two things s'averse, they never yet
But in thy rambling fancy met.
But I shall take a fit occasion
To evince thee by Ratiocination,
Some other time, in place more proper
Than this w'are in: therefore let's stop here,
And rest our wearied bones a while,
Already tir'd with other toil.
Out-run the Constable at last;
For thou art fallen on a new
Dispute, as sensless as untrue,
But to the former opposite,
And contrary as black to white;
Mere Disparata, that concerning
Presbytery, this Humane Learning;
95
But in thy rambling fancy met.
But I shall take a fit occasion
To evince thee by Ratiocination,
Some other time, in place more proper
Than this w'are in: therefore let's stop here,
And rest our wearied bones a while,
Already tir'd with other toil.
| Samuel Butler: Hudibras | |