Samuel Butler: Hudibras Written in the time of the late wars: The text edited by A. R. Waller |
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The Second PART of HUDIBRAS.
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 | Samuel Butler: Hudibras |  |
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2. The Second PART of HUDIBRAS.
The Argument of the first Canto.
The Knight being clapp'd by th' heels in prison,The last unhappy Expedition,
Love brings his Action on the Case,
And lays it upon Hudibras.
How he receives the Ladies visit,
And cunningly sollicites his sute,
Which she deferrs: yet on Parol,
Redeems him from th' Inchanted Hole.
CANTO I.
But now t'observe Romantique method
Let rusty Steel a while be sheathed;
And all those harsh and rugged sounds
Of Bastinado's, Cuts, and Wounds
Exchang'd to Love's more gentle stile,
To let our Reader breathe a while:
In which, that we may be as brief as
Is possible, by way of Preface.
Is't not enough to make one strange,
That some mens fancies should ne'er change?
But make all people do, and say,
The same things still the self-same way:
Some Writers make all Ladies purloin'd,
And Knights pursuing like a Whirlwind:
Others make all their Knights, in fits
Of Jealousie, to lose their wits;
Till drawing blood o'th' Dames, like Witches,
Th' are forthwith cur'd of their Capriches.
Some always thrive in their Amours,
By pulling Plaisters off their Sores;
As Cripples do to get an Alms,
Just so do they, and win their Dames.
Some force whole Regions, in despight
O'Geography, to change their site:
Make former times shake hands with latter,
And that which was before, come after,
But those that write in Rhime, still make
The one Verse for the others sake:
For, one for Sense, and one for Rhime,
I think's sufficient at one time.
The beginning of this Second Part may perhaps seem strange and abrupt to those who do not know, that it was written of purpose, in imitation of Virgil, who begins the IV Book of his Æneides in the very same manner, At Regina gravi, &c. And this is enough to satisfie the curiosity of those who believe that Invention and Fancy ought to be measur'd (like Cases in Law) by Precedents, or else they are in the power of the Critick.
Let rusty Steel a while be sheathed;
And all those harsh and rugged sounds
Of Bastinado's, Cuts, and Wounds
Exchang'd to Love's more gentle stile,
To let our Reader breathe a while:
In which, that we may be as brief as
Is possible, by way of Preface.
Is't not enough to make one strange,
That some mens fancies should ne'er change?
But make all people do, and say,
The same things still the self-same way:
Some Writers make all Ladies purloin'd,
106
Others make all their Knights, in fits
Of Jealousie, to lose their wits;
Till drawing blood o'th' Dames, like Witches,
Th' are forthwith cur'd of their Capriches.
Some always thrive in their Amours,
By pulling Plaisters off their Sores;
As Cripples do to get an Alms,
Just so do they, and win their Dames.
Some force whole Regions, in despight
O'Geography, to change their site:
Make former times shake hands with latter,
And that which was before, come after,
But those that write in Rhime, still make
The one Verse for the others sake:
For, one for Sense, and one for Rhime,
I think's sufficient at one time.
But we forget in what sad plight
We lately left the Captiv'd Knight,
And pensive Squire both bruis'd in body,
And conjur'd into safe Custody:
Tir'd with Dispute, and speaking Latine,
As well as basting, and Bear-baiting;
And desperate of any course,
To free himself by wit or force.
His onely Solace was, That now
His dog-bolt Fortune was so low:
That either it must quickly end,
Or turn about again, and mend:
In which he found th' event, no less,
Than other times beside his guess;
There is a tall long-sided Dame,
(But wondrous light) ycleped Fame,
That like a thin Camelion Bourds
He[r] self on Air, and eats her words:
Upon her shoulders wings she wears,
Like Hanging-sleeves, lin'd through with Ears,
And Eies, and Tongues, as Poets list,
Made good by deep Mythologist.
With these, she through the Welkin flies,
And sometimes carries Truth, oft Lies;
With Letters hung like Eastern Pidgeons;
And Mercuries of farthest Regions;
Diurnals writ for Regulation
Of Lying, to inform the Nation:
And by their publick use to bring down
The rate of Whetstones in the Kingdom.
About her neck a Pacquet-Male,
Fraught with Advice, some fresh, some stale,
Of Men that walk'd when they were dead,
And Cows of Monsters brought to bed:
Of Hailstones big as Pullets Eggs,
And Puppies whelp'd with twice two legs:
A Blazing-Star seen in the West,
By six or seven Men at least.
Two Trumpets she does sound at once,
But both of clean contrary tones.
But whether both with the same Wind,
Or one before, and one behind,
We know not; only this can tell,
Th' one sounds vilely, th' other well.
And therefore vulgar Authors name
Th' one good, th' other Evil Fame.
We lately left the Captiv'd Knight,
And pensive Squire both bruis'd in body,
And conjur'd into safe Custody:
Tir'd with Dispute, and speaking Latine,
As well as basting, and Bear-baiting;
And desperate of any course,
To free himself by wit or force.
His onely Solace was, That now
His dog-bolt Fortune was so low:
That either it must quickly end,
Or turn about again, and mend:
In which he found th' event, no less,
Than other times beside his guess;
There is a tall long-sided Dame,
(But wondrous light) ycleped Fame,
That like a thin Camelion Bourds
He[r] self on Air, and eats her words:
Upon her shoulders wings she wears,
Like Hanging-sleeves, lin'd through with Ears,
And Eies, and Tongues, as Poets list,
Made good by deep Mythologist.
With these, she through the Welkin flies,
107
With Letters hung like Eastern Pidgeons;
And Mercuries of farthest Regions;
Diurnals writ for Regulation
Of Lying, to inform the Nation:
And by their publick use to bring down
The rate of Whetstones in the Kingdom.
About her neck a Pacquet-Male,
Fraught with Advice, some fresh, some stale,
Of Men that walk'd when they were dead,
And Cows of Monsters brought to bed:
Of Hailstones big as Pullets Eggs,
And Puppies whelp'd with twice two legs:
A Blazing-Star seen in the West,
By six or seven Men at least.
Two Trumpets she does sound at once,
But both of clean contrary tones.
But whether both with the same Wind,
Or one before, and one behind,
We know not; only this can tell,
Th' one sounds vilely, th' other well.
And therefore vulgar Authors name
Th' one good, th' other Evil Fame.
This tatling Gossip knew too well,
What mischief Hudibras befel;
And straight the spightful tidings bears,
Of all, to th' unkind Widows Ears.
Democritus ne'er laugh'd so loud
To see Bauds carted through the crowd,
Or Funerals with stately Pomp,
March slowly on in solemn dump;
As she laugh'd out, until her back
As well as sides, was like to crack.
She vow'd she would go see the Sight,
And visit the distressed Knight,
To do the Office of a Neighbor,
And be a Gossip at his Labor:
And from his wooden Jail the Stocks,
To set at large his Fetter-locks,
And by Exchange, Parole, or Ransome,
To free him from th' Inchanted Mansion.
This b'ing resolv'd, she call'd for hood
And Usher, Implements abroad,
Which Ladies wear, beside a slender
Young waiting Damsel to attend her.
All which appearing, on she went,
To find the Knight in Limbo pent:
And 'twas not long before she found
Him, and his stout Squire in the Pound;
Both coupled in Inchanted Tether,
By further Leg behind together:
For as he sate upon his Rump,
His Head like one in doleful dump,
Between his knees, his hands apply'd
Unto his Ears on either side.
And by him, in another hole,
Afflicted Ralpho, Cheek by Joul;
She came upon him in his wooden
Magicians Circle, on the sudden,
As Spirits do t'a Conjurer,
When in their dreadful shapes th' appear.
No sooner did the Knight perceive her,
But straight he fell into a Fever,
Inflam'd all over with disgrace,
To be seen by her in such a place;
Which made him hang the head, and scowl,
And wink and goggle like an Owl,
He felt his Brains begin to swim,
When thus the Dame accosted him;
This place (quoth she) they say's Inchanted,
And with Deli[n]quent Spirits haunted;
That here are ty'd in Chains, and scourg'd,
Until their guilty Crimes be purg'd;
Look, there are two of them appear
Like Persons I have seen somewhere:
Some have mistaken Blocks and Posts,
For Spectres, Apparations, Ghosts
With Sawcer-eyes, and Horns; and some
Have heard the Devil beat a Drum:
But if our Eyes are not false Glasses,
That give a wrong account of Faces;
That Beard and I should be acquainted,
Before 'twas conjur'd and inchanted.
For though it be disfigur'd somewhat,
As if't had lately been in Combat;
It did belong t'a worthy Knight,
Howe'er this Goblin is come by't.
What mischief Hudibras befel;
And straight the spightful tidings bears,
Of all, to th' unkind Widows Ears.
Democritus ne'er laugh'd so loud
To see Bauds carted through the crowd,
Or Funerals with stately Pomp,
March slowly on in solemn dump;
As she laugh'd out, until her back
As well as sides, was like to crack.
She vow'd she would go see the Sight,
And visit the distressed Knight,
To do the Office of a Neighbor,
And be a Gossip at his Labor:
And from his wooden Jail the Stocks,
To set at large his Fetter-locks,
And by Exchange, Parole, or Ransome,
108
This b'ing resolv'd, she call'd for hood
And Usher, Implements abroad,
Which Ladies wear, beside a slender
Young waiting Damsel to attend her.
All which appearing, on she went,
To find the Knight in Limbo pent:
And 'twas not long before she found
Him, and his stout Squire in the Pound;
Both coupled in Inchanted Tether,
By further Leg behind together:
For as he sate upon his Rump,
His Head like one in doleful dump,
Between his knees, his hands apply'd
Unto his Ears on either side.
And by him, in another hole,
Afflicted Ralpho, Cheek by Joul;
She came upon him in his wooden
Magicians Circle, on the sudden,
As Spirits do t'a Conjurer,
When in their dreadful shapes th' appear.
No sooner did the Knight perceive her,
But straight he fell into a Fever,
Inflam'd all over with disgrace,
To be seen by her in such a place;
Which made him hang the head, and scowl,
And wink and goggle like an Owl,
He felt his Brains begin to swim,
When thus the Dame accosted him;
This place (quoth she) they say's Inchanted,
And with Deli[n]quent Spirits haunted;
That here are ty'd in Chains, and scourg'd,
Until their guilty Crimes be purg'd;
Look, there are two of them appear
Like Persons I have seen somewhere:
Some have mistaken Blocks and Posts,
For Spectres, Apparations, Ghosts
With Sawcer-eyes, and Horns; and some
Have heard the Devil beat a Drum:
But if our Eyes are not false Glasses,
109
That Beard and I should be acquainted,
Before 'twas conjur'd and inchanted.
For though it be disfigur'd somewhat,
As if't had lately been in Combat;
It did belong t'a worthy Knight,
Howe'er this Goblin is come by't.
When Hudibras the Lady heard
To take kind notice of his Beard,
And speak with such respect and honor,
Both of the Beard, and the Beard's Owner,
He thought it best to set as good
A face upon it as he cou'd,
And thus he spoke; Lady, your bright
And radiant Eyes are in the right:
The Beard's th' Identique Beard you knew,
The same numerically true:
Nor is it worn by Fiend or Elf,
But its Proprietor himself.
To take kind notice of his Beard,
And speak with such respect and honor,
Both of the Beard, and the Beard's Owner,
He thought it best to set as good
A face upon it as he cou'd,
And thus he spoke; Lady, your bright
And radiant Eyes are in the right:
The Beard's th' Identique Beard you knew,
The same numerically true:
Nor is it worn by Fiend or Elf,
But its Proprietor himself.
Oh Heavens! quoth she, can that be true?
I do begin to fear 'tis you:
Not by your Individual Whiskers,
But by your Dialect and Discourse;
That never spoke to Man or Beast,
In notions vulgarly exprest.
But what malignant Star, alass,
Has brought you both to this sad pass?
I do begin to fear 'tis you:
Not by your Individual Whiskers,
But by your Dialect and Discourse;
That never spoke to Man or Beast,
In notions vulgarly exprest.
But what malignant Star, alass,
Has brought you both to this sad pass?
Quoth he, the fortune of the War,
Which I am less afflicted for,
Than to be seen with Beard and Face,
By you, in such a homely case.
Which I am less afflicted for,
Than to be seen with Beard and Face,
By you, in such a homely case.
Quoth she, Those need not be asham'd,
For being honorably maim'd;
If he that is in battel conquer'd,
Have any Title to his own Beard.
Though yours be sorely lugg'd and torn,
It does your visage more adorn,
Than if 'twere prun'd, and starch'd, and lander'd
And cut square by the Russian Standerd.
A torn Beard's like a tatter'd Ensign,
That's bravest which there are most rents in.
That Petticoat about your Shoulders,
Does not so well become a Soldiers,
And I'm afraid they are worse handled,
Although i'th' reer, your Beard the Van led.
And those uneasie bruises make
My heart for company to ake,
To see so worshipful a friend
I'th' Pillory set, at the wrong end.
For being honorably maim'd;
If he that is in battel conquer'd,
Have any Title to his own Beard.
Though yours be sorely lugg'd and torn,
It does your visage more adorn,
Than if 'twere prun'd, and starch'd, and lander'd
And cut square by the Russian Standerd.
A torn Beard's like a tatter'd Ensign,
110
That Petticoat about your Shoulders,
Does not so well become a Soldiers,
And I'm afraid they are worse handled,
Although i'th' reer, your Beard the Van led.
And those uneasie bruises make
My heart for company to ake,
To see so worshipful a friend
I'th' Pillory set, at the wrong end.
Quoth Hudibras, This thing call'd Pain,
Is (as the Learn'd Stoicks maintain)
Not bad simpliciter, nor good,
But merely as 'tis understood.
Sense is deceitful, and may faign,
As well in counterfeiting pain,
As other gross Phænomena's,
In which it oft mistakes the Case.
But since th' immortal Intellect
(That's free from Error and Defect,
Whose objects still persist the same)
Is free from outward bruise or maim,
Which nought external can expose
To gross material bangs or blows:
It follows, we can ne'er be sure,
Whether we pain or not endure:
And just so far are sore and griev'd,
As by the Fancy is believ'd.
Some have been wounded with conceit,
And dy'd of mere opinion streight.
Others, though wounded sore in reason,
Felt nor contusion nor discretion.
A Saxon Duke did grow so fat,
That Mice, (as Histories relate)
Eat Grots and Labyrinths to dwell in
His Postique parts, without his feeling;
Then how is't possible a kick,
Should e'er reach that way to the quick?
Is (as the Learn'd Stoicks maintain)
Not bad simpliciter, nor good,
But merely as 'tis understood.
Sense is deceitful, and may faign,
As well in counterfeiting pain,
As other gross Phænomena's,
In which it oft mistakes the Case.
But since th' immortal Intellect
(That's free from Error and Defect,
Whose objects still persist the same)
Is free from outward bruise or maim,
Which nought external can expose
To gross material bangs or blows:
It follows, we can ne'er be sure,
Whether we pain or not endure:
And just so far are sore and griev'd,
As by the Fancy is believ'd.
Some have been wounded with conceit,
And dy'd of mere opinion streight.
Others, though wounded sore in reason,
Felt nor contusion nor discretion.
A Saxon Duke did grow so fat,
That Mice, (as Histories relate)
Eat Grots and Labyrinths to dwell in
His Postique parts, without his feeling;
Then how is't possible a kick,
Should e'er reach that way to the quick?
Quoth she, I grant it is in vain,
For one that's basted, to feel pain;
Because the Pangs his bones endure,
Contribute nothing to the Cure:
Yet Honor hurt, is wont to rage
With Pain no Med'cine can assuage.
For one that's basted, to feel pain;
Because the Pangs his bones endure,
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Yet Honor hurt, is wont to rage
With Pain no Med'cine can assuage.
Quoth he, That Honor's very squeemish
That takes a basting for a blemish:
For what's more honorable than scars,
Or skin to tatters rent in Wars?
Some have been beaten till they know
What Wood a Cudgel's of by th' blow;
Some kick'd, until they can feel whether
A Shooe be Spanish or Neats-Leather:
And yet have met, after long running,
With some whom they have taught that cunning,
The furthest way about, t'o'ercome,
I'th' end does prove th' nearest home;
By Laws of Learned Duellists,
They that are bruis'd with Wood, or Fists,
And think one beating may for once
Suffice, are Cowards, and Pultroons:
But if they dare engage t'a second,
They're stout and gallant fellows reckon'd.
Th' old Romans, freedom did bestow;
Our Princes worship, with a blow:
King Pyrrhus cur'd his splenetick
And testy Courtiers with a kick.
The Negus, when some mighty Lord,
Or Potentate's to be restor'd
And Pardon'd for some great offence
With which he's willing to dispence:
First has him laid upon his Belly,
Then beaten back, and side, t'a Jelly,
That done, he rises, humbly bows,
And gives thanks for the gracious blows;
Departs not meanly proud, and boasting,
Of his magnificent Rib-roasting.
The beaten Soldier, proves most manful,
That like his Sword, endures the Anvile:
And justly's held more formidable,
The more his Valor's malleable.
But he that fears a Bastinado,
Will run away from his own shadow.
And though I'm now in durance fast,
By our own Party basely cast,
Ransome, Exchange, Parole, refus'd,
And worse than by th' Enemy us'd;
In close Catasta shut, past hope
Of Wit, or Valor, to elope.
As Beards, the nearer that they tend
To th' Earth, still grow more reverend:
And Cannons shoot the higher pitches,
The lower we let down their Breeches:
I'll make this low dejected fate
Advance me to a greater height.
That takes a basting for a blemish:
For what's more honorable than scars,
Or skin to tatters rent in Wars?
Some have been beaten till they know
What Wood a Cudgel's of by th' blow;
Some kick'd, until they can feel whether
A Shooe be Spanish or Neats-Leather:
And yet have met, after long running,
With some whom they have taught that cunning,
The furthest way about, t'o'ercome,
I'th' end does prove th' nearest home;
By Laws of Learned Duellists,
They that are bruis'd with Wood, or Fists,
And think one beating may for once
Suffice, are Cowards, and Pultroons:
But if they dare engage t'a second,
They're stout and gallant fellows reckon'd.
Th' old Romans, freedom did bestow;
Our Princes worship, with a blow:
King Pyrrhus cur'd his splenetick
And testy Courtiers with a kick.
The Negus, when some mighty Lord,
Or Potentate's to be restor'd
And Pardon'd for some great offence
With which he's willing to dispence:
First has him laid upon his Belly,
Then beaten back, and side, t'a Jelly,
That done, he rises, humbly bows,
And gives thanks for the gracious blows;
Departs not meanly proud, and boasting,
Of his magnificent Rib-roasting.
The beaten Soldier, proves most manful,
That like his Sword, endures the Anvile:
And justly's held more formidable,
The more his Valor's malleable.
But he that fears a Bastinado,
112
And though I'm now in durance fast,
By our own Party basely cast,
Ransome, Exchange, Parole, refus'd,
And worse than by th' Enemy us'd;
In close Catasta shut, past hope
Of Wit, or Valor, to elope.
As Beards, the nearer that they tend
To th' Earth, still grow more reverend:
And Cannons shoot the higher pitches,
The lower we let down their Breeches:
I'll make this low dejected fate
Advance me to a greater height.
Quoth she, Y've almost made m'in Love
With that which did my pity move:
Great Wits, and Valors, like great States,
Do sometimes sink with their own weights:
The extreams of Glory, and of Shame,
Like East and West, become the same:
No Indian Prince has to his Palace
More follow'rs than a Thief to th' Gallows.
But if a beating seem so brave,
What Glories must a whipping have?
Such great Atchievements cannot fail,
To cast Salt on a Womans Tail,
For if I thought your nat'ral Talent
Of Passive Courage, were so Gallant;
As you strain hard to have it thought,
I could grow amorous, and dote.
With that which did my pity move:
Great Wits, and Valors, like great States,
Do sometimes sink with their own weights:
The extreams of Glory, and of Shame,
Like East and West, become the same:
No Indian Prince has to his Palace
More follow'rs than a Thief to th' Gallows.
But if a beating seem so brave,
What Glories must a whipping have?
Such great Atchievements cannot fail,
To cast Salt on a Womans Tail,
For if I thought your nat'ral Talent
Of Passive Courage, were so Gallant;
As you strain hard to have it thought,
I could grow amorous, and dote.
When Hudibras this language heard,
He prick'd up's ears, and strok'd his Beard:
Thought he, this is the Lucky hour,
Wines work, when Vines are in the flower;
This Crisis then I'll set my rest on,
And put her boldly to the Question.
He prick'd up's ears, and strok'd his Beard:
Thought he, this is the Lucky hour,
Wines work, when Vines are in the flower;
This Crisis then I'll set my rest on,
And put her boldly to the Question.
Madam, what you would seem to doubt,
Shall be to all the world made out,
How I've been Drubb'd, and with what Spirit,
And Magnanimity, I bear it;
And if you doubt it to be true,
I'll stake my self down against you:
And if I fail in Love or Troth,
Be you the Winner, and take both.
Shall be to all the world made out,
How I've been Drubb'd, and with what Spirit,
And Magnanimity, I bear it;
And if you doubt it to be true,
113
And if I fail in Love or Troth,
Be you the Winner, and take both.
Quoth she, I've heard old cunning Stagers
Say, Fools for Arguments use wagers.
And though I prais'd your Valor, yet
I did not mean to baulk your Wit,
Which if you have, you must needs know
What, I have told you before now,
And you b'experiment have prov'd,
I cannot Love where I'm belov'd.
Say, Fools for Arguments use wagers.
And though I prais'd your Valor, yet
I did not mean to baulk your Wit,
Which if you have, you must needs know
What, I have told you before now,
And you b'experiment have prov'd,
I cannot Love where I'm belov'd.
Quoth Hudibras, 'tis a Caprich
Beyond th' infliction of a Witch;
So Cheats to play with those still aim,
That do not understand the Game.
Love in your heart as idly burns,
As Fire in antique Roman-Urns,
To warm the Dead, and vainly light
Those only, that see nothing by't.
Have you not power to entertain,
And render Love for Love again?
As no man can draw in his breath,
At once, and force out Air beneath?
Or do you love your self so much,
To bear all Rivals else a Grutch?
What Fate can lay a greater Curse,
Than you upon your self would force;
For Wedlock without love, some say,
Is but a Lock without a Key.
It is a kind of Rape to Marry
One, that neglects, or cares not for ye:
For, what does make it Ravishment,
But b'ing against the Mind's Consent?
A Rape, that is the more inhumane,
For being acted by a Woman,
Why are you fair, but to entice us
To love you, that you may despise us?
But though you cannot love, you say,
Out of your own Fanatique way,
Why should you not, at least, allow,
Those that love you, to do so too:
For, as you fly me, and pursue
Love more averse, so I do you:
And am by your own Doctrine taught,
To practise what you call a fault.
Beyond th' infliction of a Witch;
So Cheats to play with those still aim,
That do not understand the Game.
Love in your heart as idly burns,
As Fire in antique Roman-Urns,
To warm the Dead, and vainly light
Those only, that see nothing by't.
Have you not power to entertain,
And render Love for Love again?
As no man can draw in his breath,
At once, and force out Air beneath?
Or do you love your self so much,
To bear all Rivals else a Grutch?
What Fate can lay a greater Curse,
Than you upon your self would force;
For Wedlock without love, some say,
Is but a Lock without a Key.
It is a kind of Rape to Marry
One, that neglects, or cares not for ye:
For, what does make it Ravishment,
But b'ing against the Mind's Consent?
A Rape, that is the more inhumane,
For being acted by a Woman,
Why are you fair, but to entice us
To love you, that you may despise us?
But though you cannot love, you say,
Out of your own Fanatique way,
Why should you not, at least, allow,
114
For, as you fly me, and pursue
Love more averse, so I do you:
And am by your own Doctrine taught,
To practise what you call a fault.
Quoth she, If what you say be true,
You must fly me, as I do you,
But 'tis not what we do, but say,
In Love and Preaching, that must sway.
You must fly me, as I do you,
But 'tis not what we do, but say,
In Love and Preaching, that must sway.
Quoth he, to bid me not to love,
Is to forbid my Pulse to move,
My Beard to grow, my Ears to prick up,
Or (when I'm in a fit) to hickup:
Command me to piss out the Moon,
And 'twill as easily be done.
Loves power's too great to be withstood
By feeble humane [fl]esh and blood.
'Twas he, that brought upon his knees
The Hect'ring Kill-Cow Hercules;
Reduc'd his Leager-lions skins
T'a Petticoat, and made him spin:
Seiz'd on his Club, and made it dwindle
T'a feeble Distaff, and a Spindle.
'Twas he made Emperors Gallants
To their own Sisters, and their Aunts;
Set Popes, and Cardinals agog
To play with Pages at Leap-frog;
'Twas he that gave our Senate purges,
And fluxt the House of many a Burgess;
Made those that represent the Nation
Submit, and suffer amputation:
And all the Grandees o'th' Cabal,
Adjourn to Tubs, at spring and fall.
He mounted Synod-men and rode 'em
To Durty-lane, and little Sodom;
Made 'em Corvett, like Spanish Jenets,
And take the Ring at Madam—
'Twas he that made Saint Francis do
More than the Devil could tempt him [to];
In cold and frosty weather grow
Enamor'd of a Wife of Snow;
And though she were of rigid temper,
With melting flames accost and tempt her:
Which after in enjoyment quenching,
He hung a Garland on his Engine.
Is to forbid my Pulse to move,
My Beard to grow, my Ears to prick up,
Or (when I'm in a fit) to hickup:
Command me to piss out the Moon,
And 'twill as easily be done.
Loves power's too great to be withstood
By feeble humane [fl]esh and blood.
'Twas he, that brought upon his knees
The Hect'ring Kill-Cow Hercules;
Reduc'd his Leager-lions skins
T'a Petticoat, and made him spin:
Seiz'd on his Club, and made it dwindle
T'a feeble Distaff, and a Spindle.
'Twas he made Emperors Gallants
To their own Sisters, and their Aunts;
Set Popes, and Cardinals agog
To play with Pages at Leap-frog;
'Twas he that gave our Senate purges,
And fluxt the House of many a Burgess;
Made those that represent the Nation
Submit, and suffer amputation:
And all the Grandees o'th' Cabal,
Adjourn to Tubs, at spring and fall.
He mounted Synod-men and rode 'em
To Durty-lane, and little Sodom;
Made 'em Corvett, like Spanish Jenets,
And take the Ring at Madam—
'Twas he that made Saint Francis do
The antient Writers of the Lives of Saints, were of the same sort of People, who first writ of Knight-Errantry, and as in the one, they rendred the brave Actions of some very great Persons ridiculous, by their prodigious Lies, and sottish way of describing them: So they have abus'd the Piety of some very devout Persons, by imposing such stories upon them, as this upon St. Francis.
More than the Devil could tempt him [to];
In cold and frosty weather grow
115
And though she were of rigid temper,
With melting flames accost and tempt her:
Which after in enjoyment quenching,
He hung a Garland on his Engine.
Quoth she, if Love have these effects,
Why is it not forbid our Sex?
Why is't not damn'd, and interdicted,
For Diabolical and wicked?
And song, as out of tune, against,
As Turk and Pope are by the Saints?
I find, I've greater reason for it,
Than I believ'd before t'abhor it.
Why is it not forbid our Sex?
Why is't not damn'd, and interdicted,
For Diabolical and wicked?
And song, as out of tune, against,
As Turk and Pope are by the Saints?
I find, I've greater reason for it,
Than I believ'd before t'abhor it.
Quoth Hudibras, These sad effects
Spring from your Heathenish neglects
Of Love's great pow'r, which he returns
Upon your selves with equal scorns;
And those who worthy Love[rs] slight,
Plague's with prepost'rous appetite;
This made the beautious Queen of Crete
To take a Town-Bull for her Sweet;
And from her greatness stoop so low,
To be the Rival of a Cow.
Others to prostitute their great Hearts,
To be Baboons, and Monkeys Sweet-hearts.
Some with the Dev'l himself in League grow
By's Representative a Negro,
'Twas this made Vestal-Maids love-sick,
And venture to be bury'd Quick.
Some by their Fathers and their Brothers,
To be made Mistrisses, and Mothers:
'Tis this that Proudest Dames enamors
On Lacquies, and Varlets des-Chambres
Their haughty Stomachs overcomes,
And makes 'em stoop to Durty Grooms,
To slight the World, and to disparage
Claps, Issue, Infamy, and Marriage.
Spring from your Heathenish neglects
Of Love's great pow'r, which he returns
Upon your selves with equal scorns;
And those who worthy Love[rs] slight,
Plague's with prepost'rous appetite;
This made the beautious Queen of Crete
To take a Town-Bull for her Sweet;
And from her greatness stoop so low,
To be the Rival of a Cow.
Others to prostitute their great Hearts,
To be Baboons, and Monkeys Sweet-hearts.
Some with the Dev'l himself in League grow
By's Representative a Negro,
'Twas this made Vestal-Maids love-sick,
And venture to be bury'd Quick.
Some by their Fathers and their Brothers,
To be made Mistrisses, and Mothers:
'Tis this that Proudest Dames enamors
On Lacquies, and Varlets des-Chambres
Their haughty Stomachs overcomes,
And makes 'em stoop to Durty Grooms,
To slight the World, and to disparage
Claps, Issue, Infamy, and Marriage.
Quoth she, these Judgements are severe,
Yet such, as I should rather bear,
Than trust men with their Oaths, or prove
Their faith, and secresie in love.
Says he, There is as weighty reason,
For Secresie in Love as Treason.
Love is a Burglarer, a Felon,
That at the Windore-eie does steal in
To rob the Heart, and with his prey
Steals out again a closer way,
Which whosoever can discover,
He's sure (as he deserves) to suffer.
Love is a fire, that burns and sparkles,
In Men, as nat'rally as in Char-coals,
Which sooty Chymists stop in holes,
When out of Wood, they extract Coles;
So Lovers, should their Passions choak,
That though they burn, they may not smoak.
'Tis like that sturdy Thief that stole,
And drag'd Beasts backwards, into's hole:
So Love does Lovers; and us Men
Draws by the Tails into his Den;
That no impression may discover,
And trace t'his Cave, the wary Lover.
But if you doubt I should reveal
What you entrust me under Seal,
I'll prove my self as close and virtuous,
As, your own Secretary, Albertus.
Yet such, as I should rather bear,
Than trust men with their Oaths, or prove
116
Says he, There is as weighty reason,
For Secresie in Love as Treason.
Love is a Burglarer, a Felon,
That at the Windore-eie does steal in
To rob the Heart, and with his prey
Steals out again a closer way,
Which whosoever can discover,
He's sure (as he deserves) to suffer.
Love is a fire, that burns and sparkles,
In Men, as nat'rally as in Char-coals,
Which sooty Chymists stop in holes,
When out of Wood, they extract Coles;
So Lovers, should their Passions choak,
That though they burn, they may not smoak.
'Tis like that sturdy Thief that stole,
And drag'd Beasts backwards, into's hole:
So Love does Lovers; and us Men
Draws by the Tails into his Den;
That no impression may discover,
And trace t'his Cave, the wary Lover.
But if you doubt I should reveal
What you entrust me under Seal,
I'll prove my self as close and virtuous,
As, your own Secretary, Albertus.
Quoth she, I grant you may be close
In hiding what your aims propose:
Love-Passions are like Parables,
By which men still mean something else:
Though Love be all the worlds pretence,
Mony's the Mythologic fence,
The real substance of the shadow,
Which all Address and Courtship's made to.
In hiding what your aims propose:
Love-Passions are like Parables,
By which men still mean something else:
Though Love be all the worlds pretence,
Mony's the Mythologic fence,
The real substance of the shadow,
Which all Address and Courtship's made to.
Thought he, I understand your Play,
And how to quit you your own way;
He that will win his Dame, must do,
As Love do's, when he bends his Bow:
With the one hand thrust the Lady from,
And with the other pull her home.
I grant, quoth he, Wealth is a great
Provocative, to am'rous heat;
It is all Philters, and high Diet
That makes Love Rampant, and to fly out:
'Tis Beauty always in the Flower,
That buds and blossoms at fourscore:
'Tis that by which the Sun and Moon,
At their own weapons are out-done;
That makes Knights Errant fall in trances,
And lay about 'em in Romances.
'Tis Virtue, Wit, and Worth, and all
That Men Divine and Sacred call.
For what is Worth in any thing,
But so much Money as 'twill bring?
Or what but Riches is there known,
Which man can solely call his own;
In which, no Creature goes his half,
Unless it be to squint and laugh?
I do confess, with Goods and Land,
I'd have a Wife, at second hand;
And such you are: Nor is't your person,
My stomach's set so sharp, and fierce on,
But 'tis (your better part) your Riches,
That my enamor'd heart bewitches;
Let me your fortune but possess,
And settle your person how you please:
Or make it o'er in trust to th' Devil,
You'l find me reasonable and civil.
And how to quit you your own way;
He that will win his Dame, must do,
As Love do's, when he bends his Bow:
With the one hand thrust the Lady from,
And with the other pull her home.
I grant, quoth he, Wealth is a great
117
It is all Philters, and high Diet
That makes Love Rampant, and to fly out:
'Tis Beauty always in the Flower,
That buds and blossoms at fourscore:
'Tis that by which the Sun and Moon,
At their own weapons are out-done;
That makes Knights Errant fall in trances,
And lay about 'em in Romances.
'Tis Virtue, Wit, and Worth, and all
That Men Divine and Sacred call.
For what is Worth in any thing,
But so much Money as 'twill bring?
Or what but Riches is there known,
Which man can solely call his own;
In which, no Creature goes his half,
Unless it be to squint and laugh?
I do confess, with Goods and Land,
I'd have a Wife, at second hand;
And such you are: Nor is't your person,
My stomach's set so sharp, and fierce on,
But 'tis (your better part) your Riches,
That my enamor'd heart bewitches;
Let me your fortune but possess,
And settle your person how you please:
Or make it o'er in trust to th' Devil,
You'l find me reasonable and civil.
Quoth she, I like this plainness better
Than false Mock-Passion, Speech, or Letter,
Or any feat of qualm or sowning,
But hanging of your self, or drowning;
Your onely way with me, to break
Your mind, is breaking of your Neck:
For as when Merchants break, o'erthrown
Like Nine-Pins, they strike others down;
So, that would break my heart, which done,
My tempting fortune is your own.
These are but trifles, ev'ry Lover
Will damn himself, over and over,
And greater matters undertake,
For a less worthy Mistriss sake:
Yet th' are the onely ways to prove
The unfeign'd realities of Love;
For he that hangs, or beats out's brains,
The Devils in him if he feigns.
Than false Mock-Passion, Speech, or Letter,
Or any feat of qualm or sowning,
But hanging of your self, or drowning;
Your onely way with me, to break
Your mind, is breaking of your Neck:
For as when Merchants break, o'erthrown
Like Nine-Pins, they strike others down;
So, that would break my heart, which done,
My tempting fortune is your own.
These are but trifles, ev'ry Lover
Will damn himself, over and over,
And greater matters undertake,
118
Yet th' are the onely ways to prove
The unfeign'd realities of Love;
For he that hangs, or beats out's brains,
The Devils in him if he feigns.
Quoth Hudibras, this way's too rough,
For mere experiment, and proof;
It is no jesting, trivial matter,
To swing in th' Air, or plunge in Water,
And like a Water-witch, try love.
That's to destroy, and not to prove:
As if a man should be dissected,
To find what part is disaffected:
Your better way is to make over,
In Trust, your fortune to your Lover;
Trust is a Tryal, if it break,
'Tis not so desp'rate as a Neck:
Beside, th' experiment's more certain,
Men venture Necks to gain a Fortune;
The Soldier do's it ev'ry day
(Eight to the week) for sixpence pay:
Your Pettifoggers damn their Souls,
To share with Knaves in Cheating Fools:
And Merchants vent'ring through the Main,
Slight Pirats, Rocks, and Horns for gain.
This is the way I advise you to,
Trust me, and see what I will do.
For mere experiment, and proof;
It is no jesting, trivial matter,
To swing in th' Air, or plunge in Water,
And like a Water-witch, try love.
That's to destroy, and not to prove:
As if a man should be dissected,
To find what part is disaffected:
Your better way is to make over,
In Trust, your fortune to your Lover;
Trust is a Tryal, if it break,
'Tis not so desp'rate as a Neck:
Beside, th' experiment's more certain,
Men venture Necks to gain a Fortune;
The Soldier do's it ev'ry day
(Eight to the week) for sixpence pay:
Your Pettifoggers damn their Souls,
To share with Knaves in Cheating Fools:
And Merchants vent'ring through the Main,
Slight Pirats, Rocks, and Horns for gain.
This is the way I advise you to,
Trust me, and see what I will do.
Quoth she, I should be loath to run
My self all th' hazard, and you none.
Which must be done, unless some deed
Of yours, aforesaid do precede;
Give but your self one gentle swing,
For tryal, and I'll cut the string:
Or give that Reverend Head, a maul,
Or two, or three, against a Wall;
To shew you are a man of mettle,
And I'll engage my self, to settle.
My self all th' hazard, and you none.
Which must be done, unless some deed
Of yours, aforesaid do precede;
Give but your self one gentle swing,
For tryal, and I'll cut the string:
Or give that Reverend Head, a maul,
Or two, or three, against a Wall;
To shew you are a man of mettle,
And I'll engage my self, to settle.
Quoth he, my Head's not made of brass,
As Frier Bacon's noddle was:
Nor (like the Indian's scull) so tough,
That Authors say, 'twas Musket-proof:
As it had need to be to enter,
As yet, on any new Adventure;
You see what bangs it has endur'd,
That would, before new feats, be cur'd:
But if that's all you stand upon;
Here, strike me luck, it shall be done.
As Frier Bacon's noddle was:
The Tradition of Frier Bacon and the Brazen-Head, is very commonly known, and considering the times he liv'd in, is not much more strange then what another great Philosopher of his Name, has since deliver'd up of a Ring, that being ty'd in a string, and held like a Pendulum in the middle of a Silver Bowl, will vibrate of it self, and tell exactly against the sides of the Divining Cup, the same thing with, Time is, Time was, &c.
Nor (like the Indian's scull) so tough,
119
As it had need to be to enter,
As yet, on any new Adventure;
You see what bangs it has endur'd,
That would, before new feats, be cur'd:
But if that's all you stand upon;
Here, strike me luck, it shall be done.
Quoth she, The matter's not so far gone
As you suppose, Two words t'a Bargain,
That may be done, and time enough,
When you have given down-right proof:
And yet 'tis no Fantastick pike,
I have to love, nor coy dislike;
'Tis no implicite, nice Aversion
T'your Conversation, Meen, or Person:
But a just fear, lest you should prove,
False, and perfidious in Love;
For if I thought you could be true,
I could love twice as much as you.
As you suppose, Two words t'a Bargain,
That may be done, and time enough,
When you have given down-right proof:
And yet 'tis no Fantastick pike,
I have to love, nor coy dislike;
'Tis no implicite, nice Aversion
T'your Conversation, Meen, or Person:
But a just fear, lest you should prove,
False, and perfidious in Love;
For if I thought you could be true,
I could love twice as much as you.
Quoth he, My faith as Adamantine
As Chains of Destiny, I'll maintain;
True as Apollo ever spoke,
Or Oracle from heart of Oak.
And if you'll give my flame but vent,
Now in close hugger-mugger pent,
And shine upon me but benignly,
With that one, and that other Pigsny,
The Sun and Day shall sooner part,
Than Love, or you, shake off my heart.
The Sun that shall no more dispence
His own, but your bright influence;
I'll carve your name on Barks of Trees,
With True-loves knots, and Flourishes;
That shall infuse eternal spring,
And everlasting flourishing:
Drink every Letter on't, in Stum;
And make it brisk Champaign become;
Where e'er you tread, your foot shall set
The Primrose and the Violet;
All Spices, Perfumes, and sweet Powders,
Shall borrow from your breath their Odors;
Nature her Charter shall renew,
And take all lives of things from you;
The World depend upon your Eye,
And when you frown upon it, die.
Only our loves shall still survive,
New Worlds and Natures to out-live;
And, like to Heralds Moons, remain
All Crescents, without change or wane.
As Chains of Destiny, I'll maintain;
True as Apollo ever spoke,
Or Oracle from heart of Oak.
And if you'll give my flame but vent,
Now in close hugger-mugger pent,
And shine upon me but benignly,
With that one, and that other Pigsny,
The Sun and Day shall sooner part,
Than Love, or you, shake off my heart.
The Sun that shall no more dispence
His own, but your bright influence;
I'll carve your name on Barks of Trees,
With True-loves knots, and Flourishes;
That shall infuse eternal spring,
And everlasting flourishing:
Drink every Letter on't, in Stum;
And make it brisk Champaign become;
Where e'er you tread, your foot shall set
The Primrose and the Violet;
All Spices, Perfumes, and sweet Powders,
120
Nature her Charter shall renew,
And take all lives of things from you;
The World depend upon your Eye,
And when you frown upon it, die.
Only our loves shall still survive,
New Worlds and Natures to out-live;
And, like to Heralds Moons, remain
All Crescents, without change or wane.
Hold, hold, quoth she, no more of this,
Sir Knight, you take your aim amiss;
For you will find it a hard Chapter,
To catch me with Poetique Rapture,
In which your Mastery of Art
Doth shew it self and not your Heart;
Nor will you raise in mine combustion,
By dint of high Heroick fustion:
She that with Poetry is won,
Is but a Desk to write upon;
And what men say of her, they mean,
No more than that on which they lean.
Some with Arabian Spices strive
To embalm her cruelly alive;
Or season her, as French Cooks use
Their Haut-gusts, Buollies, or Ragusts;
Use her so barbarously ill,
To grind her Lips upon a Mill,
Until the Facet Doublet doth
Fit their Rhimes rather than her mouth;
Her mouth compar'd t'an Oyster's, with
A row of Pearl in't, stead of Teeth;
Others, make Posies of her Cheeks,
Where red, and whitest colors mix;
In which the Lily, and the Rose
For Indian Lake, and Ceruse goes.
The Sun, and Moon, by her bright eyes,
Eclips'd, and darkn'd in the Skies;
Are but Black-patches that she wears,
Cut into Suns, and Moons, and Stars,
By which Astrologers, as well
As those in Heav'n above, can tell
What strange Events they do foreshow
Unto her Under-world below.
Her Voice the Musick of the Spheres,
So loud it deafens mortal ears;
As wise Philosophers have thought,
And that's the cause we hear it not.
This has been done by some, who those
Th' ador'd in Rhime, would kick in Prose;
And in those Ribbins would have hung,
Of which melodiously they sung.
That have the hard fate, to write best
Of those still that deserve it least;
It matters not, how false, or forc'd,
So the best things be said o'th' worst;
It goes for nothing when 'tis sed,
Onely the Arrow's drawn to th' head,
Whether it be Swan or Goose
They level at: So Shepherds use
To set the same mark on the hip
Both of their sound and rotten Sheep.
For Wits that carry low or wide,
Must be aim'd higher, or beside,
The mark, which else they ne'er come nigh,
But when they take their aim awry.
But I do wonder you should chuse
This way t'attaque me with your Muse,
As one cut out to pass your tricks on,
With Fulhams of Poetic fiction:
I rather hop'd, I should no more
Hear from you, o'th' Gallanting score:
For hard dry-bastings use to prove
The readiest Remedies of Love,
Next a dry-diet; But if those fail,
Yet this uneasie Loop-hold Jail
In which y'are hamper'd by the fet-lock,
Cannot but put y'in mind of Wedlock:
Wedlock, that's worse than any hole here,
If that may serve you for a Cooler;
T'allay your Mettle, all agog
Upon a Wife, the heavi'r clog.
Nor rather thank your gentle Fate,
That, for a bruis'd or broken Pate,
Has freed you from those knobs, that grow
Much harder, on the Marry'd Brow:
But if no dread can cool your Courage,
From vent'ring on that Dragon, Marriage;
Yet give me Quarter, and advance
To nobler aims, your Puissance:
Level at Beauty, and at Wit,
The fairest mark is easiest hit.
Sir Knight, you take your aim amiss;
For you will find it a hard Chapter,
To catch me with Poetique Rapture,
In which your Mastery of Art
Doth shew it self and not your Heart;
Nor will you raise in mine combustion,
By dint of high Heroick fustion:
She that with Poetry is won,
Is but a Desk to write upon;
And what men say of her, they mean,
No more than that on which they lean.
Some with Arabian Spices strive
To embalm her cruelly alive;
Or season her, as French Cooks use
Their Haut-gusts, Buollies, or Ragusts;
Use her so barbarously ill,
To grind her Lips upon a Mill,
Until the Facet Doublet doth
Fit their Rhimes rather than her mouth;
Her mouth compar'd t'an Oyster's, with
A row of Pearl in't, stead of Teeth;
Others, make Posies of her Cheeks,
Where red, and whitest colors mix;
In which the Lily, and the Rose
For Indian Lake, and Ceruse goes.
The Sun, and Moon, by her bright eyes,
Eclips'd, and darkn'd in the Skies;
Are but Black-patches that she wears,
Cut into Suns, and Moons, and Stars,
By which Astrologers, as well
121
What strange Events they do foreshow
Unto her Under-world below.
Her Voice the Musick of the Spheres,
So loud it deafens mortal ears;
As wise Philosophers have thought,
And that's the cause we hear it not.
This has been done by some, who those
Th' ador'd in Rhime, would kick in Prose;
And in those Ribbins would have hung,
Of which melodiously they sung.
That have the hard fate, to write best
Of those still that deserve it least;
It matters not, how false, or forc'd,
So the best things be said o'th' worst;
It goes for nothing when 'tis sed,
Onely the Arrow's drawn to th' head,
Whether it be Swan or Goose
They level at: So Shepherds use
To set the same mark on the hip
Both of their sound and rotten Sheep.
For Wits that carry low or wide,
Must be aim'd higher, or beside,
The mark, which else they ne'er come nigh,
But when they take their aim awry.
But I do wonder you should chuse
This way t'attaque me with your Muse,
As one cut out to pass your tricks on,
With Fulhams of Poetic fiction:
I rather hop'd, I should no more
Hear from you, o'th' Gallanting score:
For hard dry-bastings use to prove
The readiest Remedies of Love,
Next a dry-diet; But if those fail,
Yet this uneasie Loop-hold Jail
In which y'are hamper'd by the fet-lock,
Cannot but put y'in mind of Wedlock:
Wedlock, that's worse than any hole here,
If that may serve you for a Cooler;
T'allay your Mettle, all agog
122
Nor rather thank your gentle Fate,
That, for a bruis'd or broken Pate,
Has freed you from those knobs, that grow
Much harder, on the Marry'd Brow:
But if no dread can cool your Courage,
From vent'ring on that Dragon, Marriage;
Yet give me Quarter, and advance
To nobler aims, your Puissance:
Level at Beauty, and at Wit,
The fairest mark is easiest hit.
Quoth Hudibras, I'm before-hand
In that already, with your command:
For where does Beauty, and high Wit,
But in your Constellation, meet?
In that already, with your command:
For where does Beauty, and high Wit,
But in your Constellation, meet?
Quoth she, What does a Match imply,
But likeness and equality?
I know you cannot think me fit,
To be th' Yoke-fellow of your Wit:
Nor take one of so mean Deserts,
To be the Partner of your Parts;
A Grace, which if I could believe,
I've not the conscience to receive.
But likeness and equality?
I know you cannot think me fit,
To be th' Yoke-fellow of your Wit:
Nor take one of so mean Deserts,
To be the Partner of your Parts;
A Grace, which if I could believe,
I've not the conscience to receive.
That Conscience, Quoth Hudibras,
Is mis-inform'd; I'll state the Case.
A man may be a Legal Donor
Of any thing whereof he's Owner;
And may confer it where he lists,
I'th' Judgment of all Casuists:
Then Wit, and Parts, and Valor may
Be ali'nated, and made away,
By those that are Prop[r]ietors;
As I may give or sell my Horse.
Is mis-inform'd; I'll state the Case.
A man may be a Legal Donor
Of any thing whereof he's Owner;
And may confer it where he lists,
I'th' Judgment of all Casuists:
Then Wit, and Parts, and Valor may
Be ali'nated, and made away,
By those that are Prop[r]ietors;
As I may give or sell my Horse.
Quoth she, I grant the Case is true,
And proper 'twixt your Horse and you;
But whether I may take, as well
As you may give away, or sell?
Buyers you know are bid beware;
And worse than Thieves Receivers are.
How shall I answer Hue and Cry,
For a Roan-Gelding, twelve hands high:
All spurr'd and switch'd, a Lock on's hoof,
A sorrel-mane? can I bring proof,
Where, when, by whom, and what y'are sold for,
And in the open Market toll'd for?
Or should I take you for a stray,
You must be kept a year and day
(Ere I can own you) here i'th' pound,
Where, if y'are sought, you may be found:
And in the mean time I must pay
For all your Provender and Hay.
And proper 'twixt your Horse and you;
But whether I may take, as well
As you may give away, or sell?
Buyers you know are bid beware;
And worse than Thieves Receivers are.
How shall I answer Hue and Cry,
123
All spurr'd and switch'd, a Lock on's hoof,
A sorrel-mane? can I bring proof,
Where, when, by whom, and what y'are sold for,
And in the open Market toll'd for?
Or should I take you for a stray,
You must be kept a year and day
(Ere I can own you) here i'th' pound,
Where, if y'are sought, you may be found:
And in the mean time I must pay
For all your Provender and Hay.
Quoth he, It stands me much upon
T'enervate this Objection,
And prove my self, by Topic clear,
No Gelding, as you would infer.
Loss of Virilit[y's] averr'd
To be the cause of loss of Beard,
That does (like Embryo in the womb)
Abortive on the Chin become.
This first a Woman did invent,
In envy of Mans ornament.
Semiramis of Babylon,
Who first of all cut men o'th' Stone:
To mar their Beards, and laid foundation
Of Sow-geldering operation.
Look on this Beard, and tell me whether,
Eunuchs [wear] such, or Geldings either.
Next it appears, I am no Horse,
That I can argue, and discourse,
Have but two legs, and ne'er a tail.
T'enervate this Objection,
And prove my self, by Topic clear,
No Gelding, as you would infer.
Loss of Virilit[y's] averr'd
To be the cause of loss of Beard,
That does (like Embryo in the womb)
Abortive on the Chin become.
This first a Woman did invent,
In envy of Mans ornament.
Semiramis of Babylon,
Semiramis, Queen of Assyria, is said to be the first that invented Eunuchs. Semiramis teneros mares castravit omnium Prima. Am. Marcel. L. 14. p. 22. Which is something strange in a Lady of her Constitution, who is said to have receiv'd Horses into her embraces (as another Queen did a Bull) But that perhaps may be the reason, why she after thought Men not worth the while.
Who first of all cut men o'th' Stone:
To mar their Beards, and laid foundation
Of Sow-geldering operation.
Look on this Beard, and tell me whether,
Eunuchs [wear] such, or Geldings either.
Next it appears, I am no Horse,
That I can argue, and discourse,
Have but two legs, and ne'er a tail.
Quoth she, That nothing will avail;
For some Philosophers of late here,
Write, Men have four legs by Nature,
And that 'tis Custom makes them go
Erroneously upon but two;
As 'twas in Germany made good,
B'a Boy, that lost himself in a Wood;
And growing down t'a man, was wont
With Wolves upon all four to hunt.
As for your reasons drawn from tayls,
We cannot say, they 'are true or false,
Till you explain your self, and show,
B'experiment, 'tis so or no.
For some Philosophers of late here,
Write, Men have four legs by Nature,
And that 'tis Custom makes them go
Erroneously upon but two;
As 'twas in Germany made good,
B'a Boy, that lost himself in a Wood;
And growing down t'a man, was wont
With Wolves upon all four to hunt.
As for your reasons drawn from tayls,
124
Till you explain your self, and show,
B'experiment, 'tis so or no.
Quoth he, If you'll join issue ont't,
I'll give you satisfactory account;
So you will promise, if you lose,
To settle all, and be my Spouse.
I'll give you satisfactory account;
So you will promise, if you lose,
To settle all, and be my Spouse.
That never will be done (quoth she)
To one that wants a Tayl, by me:
For Tayls by Natures sure were meant,
As well as Beards, for ornament:
And though the Vulgar count them homely,
In man or beast, they are so comely,
So Gentee, Allamode, and handsom,
I'll never marry man that wants one:
And till you can demonstrate plain
You have one equal to your Mane,
I'll be torn piece-meal by a Horse,
Ere I'll take you for better or worse.
The Prince of Cambay's daily food,
Is Aspe, Basilisque, and Toad,
Which makes him have so strong a breath,
Each night he stinks a Queen to death;
Yet I shall rather lie in's Arms,
Than yours, on any other tearms.
To one that wants a Tayl, by me:
For Tayls by Natures sure were meant,
As well as Beards, for ornament:
And though the Vulgar count them homely,
In man or beast, they are so comely,
So Gentee, Allamode, and handsom,
I'll never marry man that wants one:
And till you can demonstrate plain
You have one equal to your Mane,
I'll be torn piece-meal by a Horse,
Ere I'll take you for better or worse.
The Prince of Cambay's daily food,
Is Aspe, Basilisque, and Toad,
Which makes him have so strong a breath,
Each night he stinks a Queen to death;
Yet I shall rather lie in's Arms,
Than yours, on any other tearms.
Quoth he, What Nature can afford,
I shall produce upon my word;
And if she ever gave that boon
To man, I'll prove that I have one;
I mean, by postulate Illation,
When you shall offer just occasion;
But since y'have yet deny'd to give
My Heart, your Pris'ner, a Reprieve,
But made it sink down to my heel,
Let that at least your pity feel,
And for the sufferings of your Martyr,
Give its poor Entertainer quarter;
And by Discharge, or Main-prise grant
Delivery from this base Restraint.
I shall produce upon my word;
And if she ever gave that boon
To man, I'll prove that I have one;
I mean, by postulate Illation,
When you shall offer just occasion;
But since y'have yet deny'd to give
My Heart, your Pris'ner, a Reprieve,
But made it sink down to my heel,
Let that at least your pity feel,
And for the sufferings of your Martyr,
Give its poor Entertainer quarter;
And by Discharge, or Main-prise grant
Delivery from this base Restraint.
Quoth she, I grieve to see your Leg
Stuck in a hole here like a Peg,
And if I knew which way to do't,
(Your Honor safe) I'd let you out.
That Dames by Jail-delivery
Of Errant Knights have been set free,
When by Enchantment they have been,
And sometimes for it too, laid in;
Is that which Knights are bound to do
By Order, Oath, and Honor too:
For what are they renown'd and famous else
But aiding of distress'd Damosels?
But for a Lady no ways Errant,
To free a Knight, we have no w[a]rrant
In any Authentical Romance,
Or Classic Author yet of France:
And I'd be loath to have you break
An ancient Custom for a freak,
Or Innovation introduce
In place of things of antique use;
To free your heels by any course,
That might b'unwholesome to your Spurs:
Which if I should consent unto,
It is not in my power to do;
For 'tis a service must be done ye,
With solemn previous Ceremony.
Which always has been us'd t'untie
The Charms of those who here do lie;
For as the Ancients heretofore
To Honor's Temple had no dore,
But that which thorough Virtue's lay;
So, from this Dungeon, there's no way
To honour'd freedom, but by passing
That other Virtuous School of Lashing,
Where Knights are kept in narrow lists,
With wooden Lockets 'bout their wrists,
In which they for a while are Tenants,
And for their Ladies suffer Penance:
Whipping, that's Virtues Governess,
Tutress of Arts and Sciences;
That mends the gross mistakes of Nature,
And puts new life into dull matter;
That lays foundation for Renown,
And all the honors of the Gown:
Thus suffer'd, they are set at large,
And freed with honor'ble discharge:
Then in their Robes the Penitentials,
Are straight presented with Credentials,
And in their way attended on
By Magistrates of every Town;
And all respect and charges paid,
They're to their ancient Seats convey'd.
Now if you'll venture for my sake,
To try the toughness of your back,
And suffer (as the rest have done)
The laying of a Whipping on,
(And may you prosper in your suit,
As you with equal vigor do't)
I here engage to be your Bail,
And free you from th' Unknightly Jail.
But since our Sex's modesty
Will not allow I should be by,
Bring me on Oath, a fair account,
And honor too, when you have don't;
And I'll admit you to the place,
You claim as due in my good grace.
If Matrimony and Hanging go
By Dest'ny, why not Whipping too?
What med'cine else can cure the fits
Of Lovers when they lose their Wits?
Love is a Boy, by Poets styl'd,
Then Spare the Rod, and spill the Child.
A Persian Emp'ror whipp'd his Grannum
The Sea, his Mother Venus came on;
And hence some Rev'rend men approve
Of Rosemary in making Love.
As skilful Coopers hoop their Tubs
With Lydian and with Phrygian Dubs;
Why may not Whipping have as good
A Grace, perform'd in Time and Mood;
With comely movement, and by Art,
Raise Passion in a Lady's heart?
It is an easier way, to make
Love by, than that which many take.
Who would not rather suffer Whipping,
Than swallow Toasts of bits of Ribbin?
Make wicked Verses, Treats, and Faces,
And spell Names over, with Beer-glasses?
Be under Vows to hang and die
Loves Sacrifice, and all a lie?
With China-Oranges and Tarts,
And whining Plays, lay baits for Hearts?
Bribe Chamber-maids with love and money,
To break no Roguish jeasts upon ye;
For Lilies limn'd on Cheeks, and Roses,
With painted perfumes, hazard Noses?
Or vent'ring to be brisk and wanton,
Do Penance in a Paper Lanthorn?
All this you may compound for, now
By suff'ring what I offer you:
Which is no more than has been done,
By Knights for Ladies long agone:
Did not the Great La Mancha do so,
For the Infanta Del Taboso?
Did not th' Illustrious Bassa make
Himself a Slave for Misse's sake?
And with Bulls Pizle, for her love,
Was taw'd as gentle as a Glove?
Was not young Florio sent (to cool
His flame from Biancafiore) to School,
Where Pedant made his Pathick Bum
For her sake suffer Martyrdom?
Did not a certain Lady whip,
Of late, her Husband's own Lordship?
And though a Grandee of the House,
Clawd him with Fundamental blows,
Ty'd him stark-naked to a Bed-post,
And firk'd his hide as if sh' had rid post;
And after in the Sessions-Court,
Where Whipping's judg'd, had honor for't?
This swear you will perform, and then
I'll set you from th' Inchanted Den,
And the Magician Circle clear.
125
And if I knew which way to do't,
(Your Honor safe) I'd let you out.
That Dames by Jail-delivery
Of Errant Knights have been set free,
When by Enchantment they have been,
And sometimes for it too, laid in;
Is that which Knights are bound to do
By Order, Oath, and Honor too:
For what are they renown'd and famous else
But aiding of distress'd Damosels?
But for a Lady no ways Errant,
To free a Knight, we have no w[a]rrant
In any Authentical Romance,
Or Classic Author yet of France:
And I'd be loath to have you break
An ancient Custom for a freak,
Or Innovation introduce
In place of things of antique use;
To free your heels by any course,
That might b'unwholesome to your Spurs:
Which if I should consent unto,
It is not in my power to do;
For 'tis a service must be done ye,
With solemn previous Ceremony.
Which always has been us'd t'untie
The Charms of those who here do lie;
For as the Ancients heretofore
To Honor's Temple had no dore,
But that which thorough Virtue's lay;
So, from this Dungeon, there's no way
To honour'd freedom, but by passing
That other Virtuous School of Lashing,
Where Knights are kept in narrow lists,
With wooden Lockets 'bout their wrists,
In which they for a while are Tenants,
And for their Ladies suffer Penance:
Whipping, that's Virtues Governess,
Tutress of Arts and Sciences;
That mends the gross mistakes of Nature,
126
That lays foundation for Renown,
And all the honors of the Gown:
Thus suffer'd, they are set at large,
And freed with honor'ble discharge:
Then in their Robes the Penitentials,
Are straight presented with Credentials,
And in their way attended on
By Magistrates of every Town;
And all respect and charges paid,
They're to their ancient Seats convey'd.
Now if you'll venture for my sake,
To try the toughness of your back,
And suffer (as the rest have done)
The laying of a Whipping on,
(And may you prosper in your suit,
As you with equal vigor do't)
I here engage to be your Bail,
And free you from th' Unknightly Jail.
But since our Sex's modesty
Will not allow I should be by,
Bring me on Oath, a fair account,
And honor too, when you have don't;
And I'll admit you to the place,
You claim as due in my good grace.
If Matrimony and Hanging go
By Dest'ny, why not Whipping too?
What med'cine else can cure the fits
Of Lovers when they lose their Wits?
Love is a Boy, by Poets styl'd,
Then Spare the Rod, and spill the Child.
A Persian Emp'ror whipp'd his Grannum
The Sea, his Mother Venus came on;
And hence some Rev'rend men approve
Of Rosemary in making Love.
As skilful Coopers hoop their Tubs
With Lydian and with Phrygian Dubs;
Why may not Whipping have as good
A Grace, perform'd in Time and Mood;
With comely movement, and by Art,
127
It is an easier way, to make
Love by, than that which many take.
Who would not rather suffer Whipping,
Than swallow Toasts of bits of Ribbin?
Make wicked Verses, Treats, and Faces,
And spell Names over, with Beer-glasses?
Be under Vows to hang and die
Loves Sacrifice, and all a lie?
With China-Oranges and Tarts,
And whining Plays, lay baits for Hearts?
Bribe Chamber-maids with love and money,
To break no Roguish jeasts upon ye;
For Lilies limn'd on Cheeks, and Roses,
With painted perfumes, hazard Noses?
Or vent'ring to be brisk and wanton,
Do Penance in a Paper Lanthorn?
All this you may compound for, now
By suff'ring what I offer you:
Which is no more than has been done,
By Knights for Ladies long agone:
Did not the Great La Mancha do so,
For the Infanta Del Taboso?
Did not th' Illustrious Bassa make
Himself a Slave for Misse's sake?
And with Bulls Pizle, for her love,
Was taw'd as gentle as a Glove?
Was not young Florio sent (to cool
His flame from Biancafiore) to School,
Where Pedant made his Pathick Bum
For her sake suffer Martyrdom?
Did not a certain Lady whip,
Of late, her Husband's own Lordship?
And though a Grandee of the House,
Clawd him with Fundamental blows,
Ty'd him stark-naked to a Bed-post,
And firk'd his hide as if sh' had rid post;
And after in the Sessions-Court,
Where Whipping's judg'd, had honor for't?
This swear you will perform, and then
128
And the Magician Circle clear.
Quoth he, I do profess and swear,
And will perform what you enjoyn,
Or may I never see you mine.
And will perform what you enjoyn,
Or may I never see you mine.
Amen (quoth she) Then turn'd about,
And bid her Squire let him out.
But ere an Artist could be found
T'undo the Charms another bound,
The Sun grew low, and left the Skies,
Put down (some write) by Ladies eyes.
The Moon pull'd off her veil of Light,
That hides her face by day from sight,
(Mysterious Veil, of brightness made,
That's both her lustre, and her shade)
And in the Night as freely shon,
As if her Rays had been her own:
For Darkness is the proper Sphere,
Where all false Glories use t'appear.
The twinkling Stars began to muster,
And glitter with their borrow'd luster,
While Sleep the weary'd World reliev'd,
By counterfeiting Death reviv'd.
Our Vot'ry thought it best t'adjorn
His Whipping-penance till the morn,
And not to carry on a Work
Of such importance, in the Dark,
With erring haste, but rather stay,
And do't i'th' open face of Day;
And in the mean time, go in quest
Of next Retreat to take his Rest.
And bid her Squire let him out.
But ere an Artist could be found
T'undo the Charms another bound,
The Sun grew low, and left the Skies,
Put down (some write) by Ladies eyes.
The Moon pull'd off her veil of Light,
That hides her face by day from sight,
(Mysterious Veil, of brightness made,
That's both her lustre, and her shade)
And in the Night as freely shon,
As if her Rays had been her own:
For Darkness is the proper Sphere,
Where all false Glories use t'appear.
The twinkling Stars began to muster,
And glitter with their borrow'd luster,
While Sleep the weary'd World reliev'd,
By counterfeiting Death reviv'd.
Our Vot'ry thought it best t'adjorn
His Whipping-penance till the morn,
And not to carry on a Work
Of such importance, in the Dark,
With erring haste, but rather stay,
And do't i'th' open face of Day;
And in the mean time, go in quest
Of next Retreat to take his Rest.
129
CANTO II.
THE ARGUMENT.
The Knight and Squire in hot Dispute,Within an Ace of falling out;
Are parted with a sudden fright
Of strange Alarm, and stranger Sight;
With which adventuring to stickle,
They 're sent away in nasty pickle.
'Tis strange how some men's Tempers suit
(Like Bawd and Brandee) with Dispute,
That for their own Opinions stand fast,
Only to have them claw'd and canvast.
That kept their Consciences in Cases,
As Fidlers do their Crowds and Bases,
Ne'er to be us'd but when they're bent
To play a fit for Argument.
Make true and false, unjust and just,
Of no use but to be discust.
Dispute and set a Paradox,
Like a strait Boot upon the Stocks,
And stretch it more unmercifully,
Than Helmont, Mountaign, White, or Tully.
So th' antient Stoicks in their Porch,
With fierce dispute maintain'd their Church,
Beat out their Brains in fight and study,
To prove that Virtue is a Body,
That Bonum is an Animal,
Made good with stout Polemique Braul:
In which, some hundreds on the place
Were slain outright, and many a face
Retrench'd of Nose, and Eyes, and Beard,
To maintain what their Sect averr'd.
All which the Knight and Squire in wrath
Had like t'have suffer'd for their faith;
Each striving to make good his own,
As by the sequel shall be shown.
The Sun had long since in the Lap
Of Thetis, taken out his Nap,
And like a Lobster boyl'd, the Morn
From black to red began to turn.
(Like Bawd and Brandee) with Dispute,
That for their own Opinions stand fast,
Only to have them claw'd and canvast.
That kept their Consciences in Cases,
As Fidlers do their Crowds and Bases,
Ne'er to be us'd but when they're bent
To play a fit for Argument.
Make true and false, unjust and just,
Of no use but to be discust.
Dispute and set a Paradox,
Like a strait Boot upon the Stocks,
And stretch it more unmercifully,
Than Helmont, Mountaign, White, or Tully.
So th' antient Stoicks in their Porch,
With fierce dispute maintain'd their Church,
Beat out their Brains in fight and study,
130
That Bonum is an Animal,
Made good with stout Polemique Braul:
In which, some hundreds on the place
Were slain outright, and many a face
Retrench'd of Nose, and Eyes, and Beard,
To maintain what their Sect averr'd.
All which the Knight and Squire in wrath
Had like t'have suffer'd for their faith;
Each striving to make good his own,
As by the sequel shall be shown.
The Sun had long since in the Lap
Of Thetis, taken out his Nap,
And like a Lobster boyl'd, the Morn
From black to red began to turn.
When Hudibras, whom thoughts and aking
'Twixt sleeping kept all night, and waking,
Began to rouse his drousie eyes,
And from his Couch prepar'd to rise;
Resolving to dispatch the Deed
He vow'd to do, with trusty speed.
But first, with knocking loud and bauling,
He rous'd the Squire, in Truckle lolling,
And, after many Circumstances,
Which vulgar Authors in Romances,
Do use to spend their time and wits on,
To make impertinent Description;
They got (with much ado) to Horse,
And to the Castle bent their Course,
In which he to the Dame before
To suffer whipping Duty swore:
Where now arriv'd, and half unharnest,
To carry on the work in earnest,
He stopp'd and paus'd upon the sudden,
And with a serious forehead plodding,
Sprung a new Scruple in his head,
Which first he scratch'd and after sed;
Whether it be direct infringing
An Oath, if I should wave this swinging,
And what I've sworn to bear, forbear,
And so b'Equivocation swear;
Or whether 't be a lesser Sin,
To be forsworn, than act the thing,
Are deep and subtle points, which must,
T'inform my Conscience, be discust,
In which to err a little, may
To errors infinite make way:
And therefore I desire to know
Thy Judgment, ere we farther go.
'Twixt sleeping kept all night, and waking,
Began to rouse his drousie eyes,
And from his Couch prepar'd to rise;
Resolving to dispatch the Deed
He vow'd to do, with trusty speed.
But first, with knocking loud and bauling,
He rous'd the Squire, in Truckle lolling,
And, after many Circumstances,
Which vulgar Authors in Romances,
Do use to spend their time and wits on,
To make impertinent Description;
They got (with much ado) to Horse,
And to the Castle bent their Course,
In which he to the Dame before
To suffer whipping Duty swore:
Where now arriv'd, and half unharnest,
To carry on the work in earnest,
He stopp'd and paus'd upon the sudden,
And with a serious forehead plodding,
Sprung a new Scruple in his head,
Which first he scratch'd and after sed;
Whether it be direct infringing
An Oath, if I should wave this swinging,
And what I've sworn to bear, forbear,
131
Or whether 't be a lesser Sin,
To be forsworn, than act the thing,
Are deep and subtle points, which must,
T'inform my Conscience, be discust,
In which to err a little, may
To errors infinite make way:
And therefore I desire to know
Thy Judgment, ere we farther go.
Quoth Ralpho, since you do injoin't
I shall enlarge upon the Point.
And for my own part do not doubt
Th' Affirmative may be made out.
But first to state the Case aright,
For best advantage of our light:
And thus 'tis: Whether 't be [a] Sin,
To claw and curry your own skin
Greater, or less, than to forbear,
And that you are forsworn, forswear.
But first, o'th' first: The Inward Man,
And Outward, like a Clan and Clan,
Have always been at Daggers-drawing,
And one another Clapper-clawing:
Not that they really cuff or fence,
But in a Spiritual Mistique sence,
Which to mistake, and make 'em squabble,
In literal fray, 's abhominable;
'Tis Heathenish, in frequent use,
With Pagans, and Apostate Jews,
To offer Sacrifice of Bridewels:
Like modern Indians to their Idols,
And mungrel Christians of our times,
That expiate less with greater Crimes,
And call the foul Abhomination,
Contrition, and Mortification.
Is't not enough w're bruis'd and kicked,
With sinful members of the wicked;
Our Vessels, that are sanctifi'd,
Profan'd and curri'd, back and side;
But we must claw our selves, with shameful,
And Heathen stripes, by their example?
Which (were there nothing to forbid it)
Is impious because they did it.
This therefore may be justly reckon'd
A heinous sin. Now to the second,
That Saints may claim a Dispensation
To swear and forswear on occasion;
I doubt not, but it will appear,
With pregnant light. The point is clear.
Oaths are but words, and words but wind,
Too feeble implements to bind;
And hold with deeds proportion, so
As shadows to a substance do.
Then when they strive for place, 'tis fit
The weaker Vessel should submit:
Although your Church be opposite
To ours, as Black Friers are to White,
In Rule and Order: Yet I grant
You are a Reformado Saint;
And what the Saints do claim as due,
You may pretend a Title to:
But Saints, whom Oaths or Vows oblige,
Know little of their Priviledge;
Farther (I mean) than carrying on
Some self-advantage of their own,
For if the Dev'l, to serve his turn,
Can tell Truth; why the Saints should scorn
When it serves theirs, to swear, and lie,
I think, there's little reason why:
Else h'has a greater pow'r than they,
Which 'twere impiety to say.
W'are not commanded to forbear,
Indefinitely, at all to swear.
But to swear idly; and in vain,
Without self-interest or gain.
For, breaking of an Oath, and Lying,
Is but a kind of Self-denying,
A Saint-like virtue, and from hence,
Some have broke Oaths by Providence:
Some, to the Glory of the Lord,
Perjur'd themselves, and broke their word:
And this, the constant Rule and Practise
Of all our late Apostles Acts is,
Was not the Cause at first begun
With Perjury, and carry'd on?
Was there an Oath the Godly took,
But, in due time and place, they broke?
Did we not bring our Oaths in first,
Before our Plate, to have them burst,
And cast in fitter models, for
The present use of Church and War?
Did not our Worthies of the House,
Before they broke the Peace, break Vows?
For having freed us, first, from both
Th' Allegiance and Supremacy Oath;
Did they not, next, compell the Nation,
To take, and break the Protestation?
To swear, and after to recant
The Solemn League and Covenant?
To take th' Engagement, and disclaim it,
Enforc'd by those, who first did frame it?
Did they not swear at first, to fight
For the KING's Safety, and His Right?
And after march'd to find him out,
And charg'd him home with Horse and Foot?
And yet still had the confidence,
To swear it was in his defence?
Did they not swear to live and die
With Essex, and streight laid him by?
If that were all, for some have swore
As false as they, if th' did no more.
Did they not swear to maintain Law,
In which that swearing made a Flaw?
For Protestant Religion Vow,
That did that Vowing disallow?
For Priviledge of Parliament,
In which that swearing made a Rent?
And, since, of all the three, not one
Is left in being, 'tis well known.
Did they not swear, in express words;
To prop and back the House of Lords?
And after turn'd out the whole House-ful
Of Peers, as dang'rous, and unuseful?
So Cromwel with deep Oaths and Vows,
Swore all the Commons out o'th' House,
Vow'd that the Red-coats would disband,
I marry would they at their Command.
And troul'd'em on, and swore, and swore,
Till th' Army turn'd 'em out of Door;
This tells us plainly, what they thought,
That Oaths and swearing goes for nought.
And that by them th' were onely meant,
To serve for an Expedient.
What was the Publick Faith found out for,
But to slur men of what they fought for?
The Publick Faith, which ev'ry one
Is bound t'observe, yet kept by none;
And if that go for nothing, why
Should Private Faith have such a tye?
I shall enlarge upon the Point.
And for my own part do not doubt
Th' Affirmative may be made out.
But first to state the Case aright,
For best advantage of our light:
And thus 'tis: Whether 't be [a] Sin,
To claw and curry your own skin
Greater, or less, than to forbear,
And that you are forsworn, forswear.
But first, o'th' first: The Inward Man,
And Outward, like a Clan and Clan,
Have always been at Daggers-drawing,
And one another Clapper-clawing:
Not that they really cuff or fence,
But in a Spiritual Mistique sence,
Which to mistake, and make 'em squabble,
In literal fray, 's abhominable;
'Tis Heathenish, in frequent use,
With Pagans, and Apostate Jews,
To offer Sacrifice of Bridewels:
Like modern Indians to their Idols,
And mungrel Christians of our times,
That expiate less with greater Crimes,
And call the foul Abhomination,
Contrition, and Mortification.
Is't not enough w're bruis'd and kicked,
With sinful members of the wicked;
Our Vessels, that are sanctifi'd,
Profan'd and curri'd, back and side;
But we must claw our selves, with shameful,
132
Which (were there nothing to forbid it)
Is impious because they did it.
This therefore may be justly reckon'd
A heinous sin. Now to the second,
That Saints may claim a Dispensation
To swear and forswear on occasion;
I doubt not, but it will appear,
With pregnant light. The point is clear.
Oaths are but words, and words but wind,
Too feeble implements to bind;
And hold with deeds proportion, so
As shadows to a substance do.
Then when they strive for place, 'tis fit
The weaker Vessel should submit:
Although your Church be opposite
To ours, as Black Friers are to White,
In Rule and Order: Yet I grant
You are a Reformado Saint;
And what the Saints do claim as due,
You may pretend a Title to:
But Saints, whom Oaths or Vows oblige,
Know little of their Priviledge;
Farther (I mean) than carrying on
Some self-advantage of their own,
For if the Dev'l, to serve his turn,
Can tell Truth; why the Saints should scorn
When it serves theirs, to swear, and lie,
I think, there's little reason why:
Else h'has a greater pow'r than they,
Which 'twere impiety to say.
W'are not commanded to forbear,
Indefinitely, at all to swear.
But to swear idly; and in vain,
Without self-interest or gain.
For, breaking of an Oath, and Lying,
Is but a kind of Self-denying,
A Saint-like virtue, and from hence,
Some have broke Oaths by Providence:
Some, to the Glory of the Lord,
133
And this, the constant Rule and Practise
Of all our late Apostles Acts is,
Was not the Cause at first begun
With Perjury, and carry'd on?
Was there an Oath the Godly took,
But, in due time and place, they broke?
Did we not bring our Oaths in first,
Before our Plate, to have them burst,
And cast in fitter models, for
The present use of Church and War?
Did not our Worthies of the House,
Before they broke the Peace, break Vows?
For having freed us, first, from both
Th' Allegiance and Supremacy Oath;
Did they not, next, compell the Nation,
To take, and break the Protestation?
To swear, and after to recant
The Solemn League and Covenant?
To take th' Engagement, and disclaim it,
Enforc'd by those, who first did frame it?
Did they not swear at first, to fight
For the KING's Safety, and His Right?
And after march'd to find him out,
And charg'd him home with Horse and Foot?
And yet still had the confidence,
To swear it was in his defence?
Did they not swear to live and die
With Essex, and streight laid him by?
If that were all, for some have swore
As false as they, if th' did no more.
Did they not swear to maintain Law,
In which that swearing made a Flaw?
For Protestant Religion Vow,
That did that Vowing disallow?
For Priviledge of Parliament,
In which that swearing made a Rent?
And, since, of all the three, not one
Is left in being, 'tis well known.
Did they not swear, in express words;
134
And after turn'd out the whole House-ful
Of Peers, as dang'rous, and unuseful?
So Cromwel with deep Oaths and Vows,
Swore all the Commons out o'th' House,
Vow'd that the Red-coats would disband,
I marry would they at their Command.
And troul'd'em on, and swore, and swore,
Till th' Army turn'd 'em out of Door;
This tells us plainly, what they thought,
That Oaths and swearing goes for nought.
And that by them th' were onely meant,
To serve for an Expedient.
What was the Publick Faith found out for,
But to slur men of what they fought for?
The Publick Faith, which ev'ry one
Is bound t'observe, yet kept by none;
And if that go for nothing, why
Should Private Faith have such a tye?
Oaths were not purpos'd more than Law,
To keep the Good and Just in aw,
But to confine the Bad and Sinful,
Like Moral Cattle in a Pinfold.
A Saint's of th' heavenly Realm a Peer:
And as no Peer is bound to swear,
But on the Gospel of his Honor,
Of which he may dispose, as Owner;
It follows, though the thing be forgery,
And false, th' affirm, it is no perjury,
But a mere Ceremony, and a breach
Of nothing, but a form of speech,
And goes for no more when 'tis took,
Than mere saluting of the Book.
Suppose the Scriptures are of force,
They 're but Commissions of Course,
And Saints have freedom to digress,
And vary from 'em as they please;
Or misinterpret them, by private
Instructions, to all Aims they drive at,
Then why should we our selves abridge
And Curtail our own Priviledge?
Quakers (that like to Lanthorns, bear
Their light within 'em) will not swear.
Their Gospel is an Accidence,
By which they construe Conscience,
And hold no sin so deeply red,
As that of breaking Priscian's head;
(The Head and Founder of their Order,
That stirring Hats held worse than murder)
These thinking th' are obliged to Troth
In swearing, will not take an Oath;
Like Mules, who if th' have not their will
To keep their own pace, stand stock still;
But they are weak, and little know
What Free-born Consciences may do,
'Tis the temptation of the Devil,
That makes all humane actions evil:
For Saints may do the same things by
The Spirit, in Syncerity,
Which other men are tempted to,
And at the Devils instance do;
And yet the Actions be contrary,
Just as the Saints and Wicked vary.
For as on land there is no Beast,
But in some Fish at Sea's exprest;
So in the Wicked there's no Vice,
Of which the Saints have not a spice;
And yet that thing that's pious in
The one, in th' other is a Sin.
Is't not Ridiculous, and Nonsence,
A Saint should be a slave to Conscience?
That ought to be above such Fancies,
As far, as above Ordinances,
She's of the Wicked, as I guess,
B'her looks, her language, and her dress,
And though, like Constables, we search
For false Wares, one anothers Church:
Yet all of us hold this for true,
No Faith is to the wicked due;
For Truth is Precious and Divine,
Too rich a Pearl for Carnal Swine.
To keep the Good and Just in aw,
But to confine the Bad and Sinful,
Like Moral Cattle in a Pinfold.
A Saint's of th' heavenly Realm a Peer:
And as no Peer is bound to swear,
But on the Gospel of his Honor,
Of which he may dispose, as Owner;
It follows, though the thing be forgery,
And false, th' affirm, it is no perjury,
But a mere Ceremony, and a breach
Of nothing, but a form of speech,
And goes for no more when 'tis took,
Than mere saluting of the Book.
Suppose the Scriptures are of force,
They 're but Commissions of Course,
And Saints have freedom to digress,
And vary from 'em as they please;
Or misinterpret them, by private
Instructions, to all Aims they drive at,
Then why should we our selves abridge
135
Quakers (that like to Lanthorns, bear
Their light within 'em) will not swear.
Their Gospel is an Accidence,
By which they construe Conscience,
And hold no sin so deeply red,
As that of breaking Priscian's head;
(The Head and Founder of their Order,
That stirring Hats held worse than murder)
These thinking th' are obliged to Troth
In swearing, will not take an Oath;
Like Mules, who if th' have not their will
To keep their own pace, stand stock still;
But they are weak, and little know
What Free-born Consciences may do,
'Tis the temptation of the Devil,
That makes all humane actions evil:
For Saints may do the same things by
The Spirit, in Syncerity,
Which other men are tempted to,
And at the Devils instance do;
And yet the Actions be contrary,
Just as the Saints and Wicked vary.
For as on land there is no Beast,
But in some Fish at Sea's exprest;
So in the Wicked there's no Vice,
Of which the Saints have not a spice;
And yet that thing that's pious in
The one, in th' other is a Sin.
Is't not Ridiculous, and Nonsence,
A Saint should be a slave to Conscience?
That ought to be above such Fancies,
As far, as above Ordinances,
She's of the Wicked, as I guess,
B'her looks, her language, and her dress,
And though, like Constables, we search
For false Wares, one anothers Church:
Yet all of us hold this for true,
No Faith is to the wicked due;
For Truth is Precious and Divine,
136
Quoth Hudibr[a]s, All this is true,
Yet 'tis not fit that all men knew
Those Mysteries and Revelations;
And therefore Topical Evasions
Of subtle Turns, and Shifts of sence,
Serve best with th' Wicked for pretence,
Such as the learned Jesuits use,
And Presbyterians, for excuse,
Against the Protestants, when th' happen
To find their Churches taken napping.
As thus: A breach of Oath is Duple.
And either way admits a scruple,
And may be ex parte of the Maker,
More criminal, than the injur'd Taker.
For he that strains too far a Vow,
Will break it like an o'er-bent Bow:
And he that made, and forc'd it, broke it,
Not he that for convenience took it:
A broken Oath is, quatenus Oath,
As sound t'all purposes of Troth,
As broken Laws are ne'er the worse,
Nay till th' are broken, have no force,
What's Justice to a man, or Laws,
That never comes within their Claws?
They have no pow'r, but to admonish,
Cannot controul, coerce, or punish,
Until they 're broken, and then touch
Those only that do make them such.
Beside, no Engagement is allow'd,
By men in Prison made, for Good;
For when they 're set at liberty,
They 're from th' Engagement too, set free:
The Rabbins write, when any Jew
Did make to God, or Man, a Vow,
Which afterward he found untoward,
And stubborn to be kept, or too hard;
Any three other Jews o'th' Nation,
Might free him from the Obligation:
And have not two Saints pow'r to use,
A greater Priviledge than three Jews?
The Court of Cons[c]ience, which in Man
Should be supream and Soveraign:
Is't fit, should be subordinate,
To ev'ry petty Court i'th' State,
And have less Power than the lesser,
To deal with Perjury at pleasure?
Have it's proceedings disallow'd, or
Allow'd, at fancy of Py-powder?
Tell all it does, or does not know,
For swearing ex Officio?
Be forc'd t'impeach a broken hedge,
And Pigs unring'd at Vis. Franc. Pledge.
Discover Thievees, and Bawds, Recusants,
Priests, Witches, Eves-droppers, and Nusance;
Tell who did play at Games unlawful,
And who fill'd Pots of Ale but half full.
And have no pow'r at all, nor shift,
To help it self at a dead lift?
Why should not Conscience have Vacation
As well as other Courts o'th' Nation?
Have equal power to adjourn
Appoint Appearance and Retorn?
And make as nice distinctions serve
To split a Case; as those that carve
Invoking Cuckolds names, hit joints,
Why should not tricks as slight, do points?
Is not the High-Court of Justice sworn
To judge that Law that serves their turn?
Make their own Jealousies High-Treason,
And fix 'em whomsoe'er they please on?
Cannot the Learned Councel there,
Make Laws in any shape appear?
Mould 'em as Witches do their Clay,
When they make Pictures to destroy?
And vex 'em into any form,
That fits their purpose to do harm?
Rack 'em until they do confess,
Impeach of Treason, whom they please.
And most perfidiously condemn,
Those that engag'd their Lives for them?
And yet do nothing in their own sense,
But what they ought by Oath and Conscience!
Can they not juggle, and, with slight
Conveyance, play with wrong and right;
And sell their blasts of wind as dear,
As Lapland Witches botl'd Air?
Will not Fear, Favor, Bribe, and Grutch,
The same Case sev'ral ways adjudge;
As Seamen with the self-same Gale
Will sev'ral different courses sail;
As when the Sea breaks o'er its bounds,
And overflows the level grounds;
Those Banks and Dams, that like a Screen,
Did keep it out, now keep it in:
So when Tyrannical Usurpation
Invades the freedom of a Nation,
The Laws o'th' Land that were intended
To keep it out, are made defend it.
Do's not in Chanc'ry ev'ry man swear,
What makes best for him in his Answer?
Is not the winding up Witnesses,
And nicking more than half the bus'ness?
For Witnesses, like Watches, go
Just as they're set, too fast or slow.
And where in Conscience, th' are strait lac'd;
'Tis ten to one, that side is cast.
Do not your Juries give their Verdict
As if they felt the Cause not heard it?
And as they please make Matter of Fact
Run all on one side, as th' are packt?
Nature has made Mans breast no Windores,
To publish what he does within doors;
Nor what dark secrets there inhabit,
Unless his own rash folly blob it.
If Oaths can do a man no good,
In his own bus'ness, why they shou'd
In other matters do him hurt,
I think there's little reason for't.
He that imposes an Oath, makes it,
Not he, that for convenience takes it:
Then how can any man be said
To break an Oath he never made?
These Reasons may perhaps look odly
To th' Wicked, though they evince the Godly;
But if they will not serve to clear
My Honor, I am ne'er the near.
Honor is like that glassy Bubble
That finds Philosophers such trouble,
Whose least part crackt, the whole does fly,
And Wits are crack'd, to find out why.
Yet 'tis not fit that all men knew
Those Mysteries and Revelations;
And therefore Topical Evasions
Of subtle Turns, and Shifts of sence,
Serve best with th' Wicked for pretence,
Such as the learned Jesuits use,
And Presbyterians, for excuse,
Against the Protestants, when th' happen
To find their Churches taken napping.
As thus: A breach of Oath is Duple.
And either way admits a scruple,
And may be ex parte of the Maker,
More criminal, than the injur'd Taker.
For he that strains too far a Vow,
Will break it like an o'er-bent Bow:
And he that made, and forc'd it, broke it,
Not he that for convenience took it:
A broken Oath is, quatenus Oath,
As sound t'all purposes of Troth,
As broken Laws are ne'er the worse,
Nay till th' are broken, have no force,
What's Justice to a man, or Laws,
That never comes within their Claws?
They have no pow'r, but to admonish,
Cannot controul, coerce, or punish,
Until they 're broken, and then touch
Those only that do make them such.
Beside, no Engagement is allow'd,
By men in Prison made, for Good;
For when they 're set at liberty,
They 're from th' Engagement too, set free:
The Rabbins write, when any Jew
Did make to God, or Man, a Vow,
Which afterward he found untoward,
And stubborn to be kept, or too hard;
Any three other Jews o'th' Nation,
Might free him from the Obligation:
And have not two Saints pow'r to use,
137
The Court of Cons[c]ience, which in Man
Should be supream and Soveraign:
Is't fit, should be subordinate,
To ev'ry petty Court i'th' State,
And have less Power than the lesser,
To deal with Perjury at pleasure?
Have it's proceedings disallow'd, or
Allow'd, at fancy of Py-powder?
Tell all it does, or does not know,
For swearing ex Officio?
Be forc'd t'impeach a broken hedge,
And Pigs unring'd at Vis. Franc. Pledge.
Discover Thievees, and Bawds, Recusants,
Priests, Witches, Eves-droppers, and Nusance;
Tell who did play at Games unlawful,
And who fill'd Pots of Ale but half full.
And have no pow'r at all, nor shift,
To help it self at a dead lift?
Why should not Conscience have Vacation
As well as other Courts o'th' Nation?
Have equal power to adjourn
Appoint Appearance and Retorn?
And make as nice distinctions serve
To split a Case; as those that carve
Invoking Cuckolds names, hit joints,
Why should not tricks as slight, do points?
Is not the High-Court of Justice sworn
To judge that Law that serves their turn?
Make their own Jealousies High-Treason,
And fix 'em whomsoe'er they please on?
Cannot the Learned Councel there,
Make Laws in any shape appear?
Mould 'em as Witches do their Clay,
When they make Pictures to destroy?
And vex 'em into any form,
That fits their purpose to do harm?
Rack 'em until they do confess,
Impeach of Treason, whom they please.
And most perfidiously condemn,
138
And yet do nothing in their own sense,
But what they ought by Oath and Conscience!
Can they not juggle, and, with slight
Conveyance, play with wrong and right;
And sell their blasts of wind as dear,
As Lapland Witches botl'd Air?
Will not Fear, Favor, Bribe, and Grutch,
The same Case sev'ral ways adjudge;
As Seamen with the self-same Gale
Will sev'ral different courses sail;
As when the Sea breaks o'er its bounds,
And overflows the level grounds;
Those Banks and Dams, that like a Screen,
Did keep it out, now keep it in:
So when Tyrannical Usurpation
Invades the freedom of a Nation,
The Laws o'th' Land that were intended
To keep it out, are made defend it.
Do's not in Chanc'ry ev'ry man swear,
What makes best for him in his Answer?
Is not the winding up Witnesses,
And nicking more than half the bus'ness?
For Witnesses, like Watches, go
Just as they're set, too fast or slow.
And where in Conscience, th' are strait lac'd;
'Tis ten to one, that side is cast.
Do not your Juries give their Verdict
As if they felt the Cause not heard it?
And as they please make Matter of Fact
Run all on one side, as th' are packt?
Nature has made Mans breast no Windores,
To publish what he does within doors;
Nor what dark secrets there inhabit,
Unless his own rash folly blob it.
If Oaths can do a man no good,
In his own bus'ness, why they shou'd
In other matters do him hurt,
I think there's little reason for't.
He that imposes an Oath, makes it,
139
Then how can any man be said
To break an Oath he never made?
These Reasons may perhaps look odly
To th' Wicked, though they evince the Godly;
But if they will not serve to clear
My Honor, I am ne'er the near.
Honor is like that glassy Bubble
That finds Philosophers such trouble,
Whose least part crackt, the whole does fly,
And Wits are crack'd, to find out why.
Quoth Ralpho, Honor's but a Word,
To swear by only, in a Lord:
In other men 'tis but a Huff,
To vapour with, instead of proof,
That like a Wen, looks big, and swels,
Is sensless, and just nothing else.
To swear by only, in a Lord:
In other men 'tis but a Huff,
To vapour with, instead of proof,
That like a Wen, looks big, and swels,
Is sensless, and just nothing else.
Let it (quoth he) be what it will,
It has the World's opinion still.
But as Men are not Wise that run
The slightest hazard, they may shun:
There may a Medium be found out
To clear to all the World the doubt;
And that is, if a man may do't
By Proxy whipt, or Substitute.
It has the World's opinion still.
But as Men are not Wise that run
The slightest hazard, they may shun:
There may a Medium be found out
To clear to all the World the doubt;
And that is, if a man may do't
By Proxy whipt, or Substitute.
Though nice, and dark the Point appear,
(Quoth Ralph) it may hold up and clear.
That Sinners may supply the place
Of suff'ring Saints is a plain Case.
Justice gives Sentence, many times,
On one man for another's Crimes,
Our Brethren of New-England use
Choice Malefactors to excuse,
And hang the Guiltless in their stead,
Of whom the Churches have less need.
As lately 't happen'd: in a Town,
There liv'd a Cobler, and but one,
That out of Doctrine could cut Use,
And mend mens Lives as well as Shooes,
This precious Brother having slain,
In times of Peace, an Indian,
(Not out of Malice but mere Zeal
Because he was an Infidel)
The mighty Tottipottymoy
Sent to our Elders an Envoy,
Complaining sorely of the Breach,
Of League, held forth by Brother Patch,
Against the Articles in force
Between both Churches, his and ours:
For which he crav'd the Saints to render
Into his hands, or hang th' Offender:
But they maturely having weigh'd,
They had no more but him o'th' Trade,
(A man, that serv'd them in a double
Capacity, to Teach, and Cobble)
Resolv'd to spare him, yet to do
The Indian Hoghan Moghan too
Impartial justice, in his stead did
Hang an old Weaver that was Bed-rid.
Then wherefore may not you be skip'd,
And in your room another whip'd:
For all Philosophers, but the Sceptick,
Hold Whipping may be Sympathetick.
(Quoth Ralph) it may hold up and clear.
That Sinners may supply the place
Of suff'ring Saints is a plain Case.
Justice gives Sentence, many times,
On one man for another's Crimes,
Our Brethren of New-England use
Choice Malefactors to excuse,
And hang the Guiltless in their stead,
Of whom the Churches have less need.
As lately 't happen'd: in a Town,
There liv'd a Cobler, and but one,
That out of Doctrine could cut Use,
And mend mens Lives as well as Shooes,
This precious Brother having slain,
140
(Not out of Malice but mere Zeal
Because he was an Infidel)
The mighty Tottipottymoy
Sent to our Elders an Envoy,
Complaining sorely of the Breach,
Of League, held forth by Brother Patch,
Against the Articles in force
Between both Churches, his and ours:
For which he crav'd the Saints to render
Into his hands, or hang th' Offender:
But they maturely having weigh'd,
They had no more but him o'th' Trade,
(A man, that serv'd them in a double
Capacity, to Teach, and Cobble)
Resolv'd to spare him, yet to do
The Indian Hoghan Moghan too
Impartial justice, in his stead did
Hang an old Weaver that was Bed-rid.
Then wherefore may not you be skip'd,
And in your room another whip'd:
For all Philosophers, but the Sceptick,
Hold Whipping may be Sympathetick.
It is enough, Quoth Hudibras,
Thou hast resolv'd, and clear'd the Case,
And canst in Conscience, not refuse,
From thy own Doctrine, to raise Use:
I know thou wilt not (for my sake)
Be tender-Conscienc'd of thy back:
Then strip thee of thy Carnal Jerkin,
And give thy outward-fellow a ferking.
For when thy Vessel, is new hoop'd,
All Leaks of sinning will be stop'd.
Thou hast resolv'd, and clear'd the Case,
And canst in Conscience, not refuse,
From thy own Doctrine, to raise Use:
I know thou wilt not (for my sake)
Be tender-Conscienc'd of thy back:
Then strip thee of thy Carnal Jerkin,
And give thy outward-fellow a ferking.
For when thy Vessel, is new hoop'd,
All Leaks of sinning will be stop'd.
Quoth Ralpho, You mistake the matter,
For in all Scruples of this Nature,
No man includes himself, nor turns
The Point upon his own Concerns.
As no man of his own self catches
The Itch, or amorous French aches:
So no man does himself convince
By his own Doctrine of his Sins.
And though all cry down Self, none means
His own self in a literal Sense.
Beside, it is not only Foppish,
But Vile, Idolatrous, and Popish,
For one man, out of his own Skin,
To frisk and whip another's Sin:
As Pedants out of School-boys breeches,
Do claw and curry their own Itches.
But in this Case it is profane,
And sinful too, because in vain:
For we must take our Oaths upon it,
You did the deed, when I have done it.
For in all Scruples of this Nature,
No man includes himself, nor turns
The Point upon his own Concerns.
As no man of his own self catches
The Itch, or amorous French aches:
So no man does himself convince
141
And though all cry down Self, none means
His own self in a literal Sense.
Beside, it is not only Foppish,
But Vile, Idolatrous, and Popish,
For one man, out of his own Skin,
To frisk and whip another's Sin:
As Pedants out of School-boys breeches,
Do claw and curry their own Itches.
But in this Case it is profane,
And sinful too, because in vain:
For we must take our Oaths upon it,
You did the deed, when I have done it.
Quoth Hudibras, That's answer'd soon;
Give us the Whip, we'll lay it on.
Give us the Whip, we'll lay it on.
Quoth Ralpho, That we may swear true,
'Twere properer that I whip'd you:
For when with your consent 'tis done,
The Act is really your own.
'Twere properer that I whip'd you:
For when with your consent 'tis done,
The Act is really your own.
Quoth Hudibras, It is in vain
(I see) to argue 'gainst the grain;
Or, like the Stars, incline men to,
What they're averse themselves to do,
For when Disputes are weari'd out,
'Tis Interest still resolves the doubt.
But since no reason can confute ye,
I'll try to force you to your Duty;
For so it is, how e'er you mince it,
As ere we part I shall evince it;
And curry (if you stand out) whether
You will or no, your stubborn Leather.
Canst thou refuse to bear thy part,
I'[th'] publick Work, base as thou art?
To higgle thus, for a few blows,
To gain thy Knight an opulent Spouse?
Whose wealth his bowels yern to purchase,
Merely for th' Interest of the Churches;
And when he has it in his claws,
Will not be hide-bound to the Cause;
Nor shalt thou find him a Curmudgin,
If thou dispatch it without grudging:
If not, resolve before we go,
That you and I must pull a Crow.
(I see) to argue 'gainst the grain;
Or, like the Stars, incline men to,
What they're averse themselves to do,
For when Disputes are weari'd out,
'Tis Interest still resolves the doubt.
But since no reason can confute ye,
I'll try to force you to your Duty;
For so it is, how e'er you mince it,
As ere we part I shall evince it;
And curry (if you stand out) whether
You will or no, your stubborn Leather.
Canst thou refuse to bear thy part,
I'[th'] publick Work, base as thou art?
To higgle thus, for a few blows,
To gain thy Knight an opulent Spouse?
Whose wealth his bowels yern to purchase,
Merely for th' Interest of the Churches;
And when he has it in his claws,
Will not be hide-bound to the Cause;
Nor shalt thou find him a Curmudgin,
142
If not, resolve before we go,
That you and I must pull a Crow.
Y'had best (quoth Ralpho) as the Antients
Say wisely, Have a care o'th' main chance,
And look before you ere you leap;
For, as you sow, you are like to reap.
And were y'as good as George a Green,
I shall make bold to turn agen;
Nor am I doubtful of the Issue
In a just Quarrel; and mine is so.
Is't fitting for a man of Honor,
To whip the Saints like Bishop Bonner,
A Knight t'usurp the Beadles Office,
For which y'are like to raise brave Trophies:
But I advise you (not for fear,
But for your own sake) to forbear,
And for the Churches, which may chance
From hence, to spring a variance;
And raise among themselves new Scruples,
Whom common danger hardly couples.
Remember how in Arms and Politicks,
We still have worsted all your holy Tricks,
Trappan'd your party with Intregue,
And took your Grandees down a peg,
New-modell'd th' Army, and Cashier'd
All that to Legion SMEC adher'd,
Made a mere Utensil o'your Church
And after left it in the lurch,
A Scaffold to build up our own,
And when w'had done with't, pull'd it down.
O'er-reach'd your Rabbins of the Synod
And snap'd their Cannons with a Why-not.
(Grave Synod-men that were rever'd
For solid Face and depth of Beard)
Their Classique-model prov'd a Maggot,
Their Directory an Indian Pagod.
And drown'd their Discipline like a Kitten,
On which th' had been so long a sitting;
Decry'd it as a Holy Cheat,
Grown out of Date, and Obsolete,
And all the Saints o'the first Grass,
As Casting Foles of Balams Ass.
Say wisely, Have a care o'th' main chance,
And look before you ere you leap;
For, as you sow, you are like to reap.
And were y'as good as George a Green,
I shall make bold to turn agen;
Nor am I doubtful of the Issue
In a just Quarrel; and mine is so.
Is't fitting for a man of Honor,
To whip the Saints like Bishop Bonner,
A Knight t'usurp the Beadles Office,
For which y'are like to raise brave Trophies:
But I advise you (not for fear,
But for your own sake) to forbear,
And for the Churches, which may chance
From hence, to spring a variance;
And raise among themselves new Scruples,
Whom common danger hardly couples.
Remember how in Arms and Politicks,
We still have worsted all your holy Tricks,
Trappan'd your party with Intregue,
And took your Grandees down a peg,
New-modell'd th' Army, and Cashier'd
All that to Legion SMEC adher'd,
Made a mere Utensil o'your Church
And after left it in the lurch,
A Scaffold to build up our own,
And when w'had done with't, pull'd it down.
O'er-reach'd your Rabbins of the Synod
And snap'd their Cannons with a Why-not.
(Grave Synod-men that were rever'd
For solid Face and depth of Beard)
Their Classique-model prov'd a Maggot,
Their Directory an Indian Pagod.
And drown'd their Discipline like a Kitten,
On which th' had been so long a sitting;
Decry'd it as a Holy Cheat,
143
And all the Saints o'the first Grass,
As Casting Foles of Balams Ass.
At this the Knight grew high in Chase,
And staring furiously on Ralph,
He trembl'd and lookt pale with Ire,
Like Ashes first, then Red as Fire.
Have I (quoth he) been ta'en in fight,
And for so many Moons lay'n by't;
And when all other means did fail,
Have been exchang'd for Tubs of Ale:
Not but they thought me worth a Ransom,
Much more considerable and handsom,
But for their own sakes, and for fear,
They were not safe, when I was there?
Now to be baffl'd by a Scoundrel,
An upstart Sect'ry and a Mungrel,
Such as breed out of peccant humors
Of our own Church, like Wens, and Tumors
And like a Maggot in a Sore,
Would that which gave it life, devour.
It never shall be done, nor said:
With that he seiz'd upon his Blade.
And Ralpho too, as quick, and bold,
Upon his Basket-hilt laid hold,
With equal readiness prepar'd
To draw, and stand upon his Guard.
When both were parted on the sudden,
With hideous clamour, and a loud one,
As [i]f all sorts of Noise had been
Contracted into one loud Din;
Or that some Member to be chosen,
Had got the odds above a Thousand;
And by the greatness of his noise,
Prov'd fittest for his Countreys choice.
This strange surprisal put the Knight,
And wrathful Squire into a fright;
And though they stood prepar'd, with fatal,
Impetuous rancour, to join Battel;
Both though[t] it was their wisest course,
To wave the Fight, and mount to Horse;
And to secure, by swift retreating,
Themselves from danger of worse beating.
Yet neither of them would disparage,
By utt'ring of his mind, his Courage,
Which made 'em stoutly keep their ground
With horror and disdain, wind-bound.
And now the cause of all their fear,
By slow degrees approach'd so near,
They might distinguish diff'rent noise
Of Horns, and Pans, and Dogs, and Boys,
And Kettle Drums, whose sullen Dub
Sounds like the hooping of a Tub:
But when the Sight appear'd in view,
They found it was an antique Show,
A Triumph, that for Pomp, and State,
Did proudest Romans emulate;
For as the Aldermen of Rome
For foes at Training overcome,
And not enlarging Territory,
(As some mistaken write in Story)
Being mounted in their best Aray,
Upon a Carre, and who but they?
And follow'd with a world of Tall Lads,
That merry Ditties trol'd, and Ballads;
Did ride, with many a good morrow,
Crying, hey for our Town through the Burrough:
So when this Triumph drew so nigh,
They might particulars descry,
They never saw two things so Pat,
In all respects, as this, and that.
First he that led the Cavalcate,
Wore a Sowgelder's Flagellate,
On which he blew so strong a Levet,
As well fee'd Lawyer on his Breviate.
When over one another's heads
They charge (three Ranks at once) like Suedes.
Next Pans, and Kettles of all keys,
From Trebles down to double-Base,
And after them upon a Nag,
That might pass for a forehand Stag,
A Cornet rode, and on his Staff,
A Smock display'd, did proudly wave.
Then Bagpipes of the loudest Drones,
With snuffing broken-winded tones;
Whose blasts of Air in Pockets shut,
Sound filthier than from the Gut,
And make a viler noise than Swine
In windy-weather, when they whine.
Next, one upon a pair of Panniers,
Full fraught with that, which for good manners
Shall here be nameless, mixt with Grains
Which he dispenc'd among the Swains,
And busily upon the Crowd,
At random round about bestow'd.
Then mounted on a horned Horse,
One bore a Gauntlet and Gilt-spurs,
Ty'd to the Pummel of a long Sword,
He held reverst the point turn'd downward.
Next after, on a raw-bon'd Steed,
The Conqueror's Standard-bearer rid,
And bore aloft before the Champion
A Petticoat displaid, and Rampant;
Near whom the Amazon triumphant
Bestrid her Beast, and on the Rump on't
Sate Face to Tayl, and Bum to Bum,
The Warrier whilome overcome;
Arm'd with a Spindle and a Distaff,
Which as he rode, she made him twist off;
And when he loiter'd, o'er her Shoulder,
Chastiz'd the Reformado Souldier.
Before the Dame, and round about,
March'd Whiflers, and Staffiers on foot,
With Lacquies, Grooms, Valets, and Pages,
In fit and proper equipages;
Of whom, some Torches bore, some Links,
Before the proud Virago-Minx,
That was both Madam, and a Don,
Like Nero's Sporus, or Pope Jone;
And at fit Periods the whole Rout
Set up their throats with clam'rous shout.
The Knight transported, and the Squire
Put up their Weapons, and their Ire;
And Hudibras, who us'd to ponder
On such Sights, with judicious wonder,
Could hold no longer to impart
His Animadversions, for his Heart.
And staring furiously on Ralph,
He trembl'd and lookt pale with Ire,
Like Ashes first, then Red as Fire.
Have I (quoth he) been ta'en in fight,
And for so many Moons lay'n by't;
And when all other means did fail,
Have been exchang'd for Tubs of Ale:
Not but they thought me worth a Ransom,
Much more considerable and handsom,
But for their own sakes, and for fear,
They were not safe, when I was there?
Now to be baffl'd by a Scoundrel,
An upstart Sect'ry and a Mungrel,
Such as breed out of peccant humors
Of our own Church, like Wens, and Tumors
And like a Maggot in a Sore,
Would that which gave it life, devour.
It never shall be done, nor said:
With that he seiz'd upon his Blade.
And Ralpho too, as quick, and bold,
Upon his Basket-hilt laid hold,
With equal readiness prepar'd
To draw, and stand upon his Guard.
When both were parted on the sudden,
With hideous clamour, and a loud one,
As [i]f all sorts of Noise had been
Contracted into one loud Din;
Or that some Member to be chosen,
Had got the odds above a Thousand;
And by the greatness of his noise,
Prov'd fittest for his Countreys choice.
This strange surprisal put the Knight,
And wrathful Squire into a fright;
And though they stood prepar'd, with fatal,
Impetuous rancour, to join Battel;
Both though[t] it was their wisest course,
144
And to secure, by swift retreating,
Themselves from danger of worse beating.
Yet neither of them would disparage,
By utt'ring of his mind, his Courage,
Which made 'em stoutly keep their ground
With horror and disdain, wind-bound.
And now the cause of all their fear,
By slow degrees approach'd so near,
They might distinguish diff'rent noise
Of Horns, and Pans, and Dogs, and Boys,
And Kettle Drums, whose sullen Dub
Sounds like the hooping of a Tub:
But when the Sight appear'd in view,
They found it was an antique Show,
A Triumph, that for Pomp, and State,
Did proudest Romans emulate;
For as the Aldermen of Rome
For foes at Training overcome,
And not enlarging Territory,
(As some mistaken write in Story)
Being mounted in their best Aray,
Upon a Carre, and who but they?
And follow'd with a world of Tall Lads,
That merry Ditties trol'd, and Ballads;
Did ride, with many a good morrow,
Crying, hey for our Town through the Burrough:
So when this Triumph drew so nigh,
They might particulars descry,
They never saw two things so Pat,
In all respects, as this, and that.
First he that led the Cavalcate,
Wore a Sowgelder's Flagellate,
On which he blew so strong a Levet,
As well fee'd Lawyer on his Breviate.
When over one another's heads
They charge (three Ranks at once) like Suedes.
Next Pans, and Kettles of all keys,
From Trebles down to double-Base,
And after them upon a Nag,
145
A Cornet rode, and on his Staff,
A Smock display'd, did proudly wave.
Then Bagpipes of the loudest Drones,
With snuffing broken-winded tones;
Whose blasts of Air in Pockets shut,
Sound filthier than from the Gut,
And make a viler noise than Swine
In windy-weather, when they whine.
Next, one upon a pair of Panniers,
Full fraught with that, which for good manners
Shall here be nameless, mixt with Grains
Which he dispenc'd among the Swains,
And busily upon the Crowd,
At random round about bestow'd.
Then mounted on a horned Horse,
One bore a Gauntlet and Gilt-spurs,
Ty'd to the Pummel of a long Sword,
He held reverst the point turn'd downward.
Next after, on a raw-bon'd Steed,
The Conqueror's Standard-bearer rid,
And bore aloft before the Champion
A Petticoat displaid, and Rampant;
Near whom the Amazon triumphant
Bestrid her Beast, and on the Rump on't
Sate Face to Tayl, and Bum to Bum,
The Warrier whilome overcome;
Arm'd with a Spindle and a Distaff,
Which as he rode, she made him twist off;
And when he loiter'd, o'er her Shoulder,
Chastiz'd the Reformado Souldier.
Before the Dame, and round about,
March'd Whiflers, and Staffiers on foot,
With Lacquies, Grooms, Valets, and Pages,
In fit and proper equipages;
Of whom, some Torches bore, some Links,
Before the proud Virago-Minx,
That was both Madam, and a Don,
Like Nero's Sporus, or Pope Jone;
And at fit Periods the whole Rout
146
The Knight transported, and the Squire
Put up their Weapons, and their Ire;
And Hudibras, who us'd to ponder
On such Sights, with judicious wonder,
Could hold no longer to impart
His Animadversions, for his Heart.
Quoth he, In all my life till now,
I ne'er saw so prophane a Show.
It is a Paganish invention,
Which Heathen Writers often mention:
And he, who made it, had read Goodwin
(I warrant him) and understood him:
With all the Grecians Speeds and Stows:
That best describe those Antient Shows,
And has observ'd all fit Decorums,
We find describ'd by old Historians.
For as a Roman Conqueror,
That put an end to forrain War,
Ent'ring the Town in Triumph for it,
Bore a Slave with him, in his Chariot:
So this insulting Female Brave,
Carries behind her here, a Slave,
And as the Ancients long ago,
When they in field defy'd the foe,
Hung out their Mantles della Guer;
So her proud Standard-bearer here,
Waves, on his Spear, in dreadful manner,
A Tyrian-Pet[t]icoat for a Banner:
Next Links, and Torches, heretofore
Still born before the Emperor:
And as in Antique Triumphs, Eggs
Were born for mystical intregues;
There's one in Truncheon, like a Ladle,
That carries Eggs too, fresh or adle;
And still at random, as he goes,
Among the Rabble-rout bestows.
I ne'er saw so prophane a Show.
It is a Paganish invention,
Which Heathen Writers often mention:
And he, who made it, had read Goodwin
(I warrant him) and understood him:
With all the Grecians Speeds and Stows:
That best describe those Antient Shows,
And has observ'd all fit Decorums,
We find describ'd by old Historians.
For as a Roman Conqueror,
That put an end to forrain War,
Ent'ring the Town in Triumph for it,
Bore a Slave with him, in his Chariot:
So this insulting Female Brave,
Carries behind her here, a Slave,
And as the Ancients long ago,
When they in field defy'd the foe,
Hung out their Mantles della Guer;
So her proud Standard-bearer here,
Waves, on his Spear, in dreadful manner,
A Tyrian-Pet[t]icoat for a Banner:
Next Links, and Torches, heretofore
Still born before the Emperor:
And as in Antique Triumphs, Eggs
Were born for mystical intregues;
There's one in Truncheon, like a Ladle,
That carries Eggs too, fresh or adle;
And still at random, as he goes,
Among the Rabble-rout bestows.
Quoth Ralpho, You mistake the matter;
For, all th' Antiquity you smatter,
Is but a Riding, us'd of course,
When the Grey Mares the better Horse.
When o'er the Breeches greedy Women,
Fight, to extend their vast Dominion,
And in the cause impatient Grizel
Has drubb'd her Husband with Bulls Pizle,
And brought him under Covert-Baron,
To turn her Vassail with a Murrain;
When Wives their Sexes shift, like Hares,
And ride their Husbands, like Night-Mares,
And they in mortal Battle vanquish'd,
Are of their Charter dis-enfranchis'd,
And by the right of War, like Gils,
Condemn'd to Distaff, Horns, and Wheels;
For when men by their Wives are Cow'd,
Their Horns of course are understood.
For, all th' Antiquity you smatter,
Is but a Riding, us'd of course,
147
When o'er the Breeches greedy Women,
Fight, to extend their vast Dominion,
And in the cause impatient Grizel
Has drubb'd her Husband with Bulls Pizle,
And brought him under Covert-Baron,
To turn her Vassail with a Murrain;
When Wives their Sexes shift, like Hares,
And ride their Husbands, like Night-Mares,
And they in mortal Battle vanquish'd,
Are of their Charter dis-enfranchis'd,
And by the right of War, like Gils,
Condemn'd to Distaff, Horns, and Wheels;
For when men by their Wives are Cow'd,
Their Horns of course are understood.
Quoth Hudibras, Thou still giv'st sentence
Impertinently, and against sense.
'Tis not the least disparagement,
To be defeated by th' event:
No[r] to be beaten by main force,
That does not make a man the worse,
Although his shoulders, with Batoon,
Be claw'd and cudgell'd to some tune;
A Taylers Prentice has no hard
Measure, that's bang'd with a true yard:
But to turn Tail, or run away,
And without blows give up the Day;
Or to surrender ere the Assault,
That's no man's fortune, but his fault:
And renders men of Honor less
Than all th' Adversity of Success,
And only unto such this Shew
Of Horns, and Petticoats, is due.
There is a lesser Profanation,
Like that the Romans call'd Ovation,
For as Ovation was allow'd
For Conquest, purchas'd without blood,
So men decree those lesser Shows,
For Vict'ry gotten without blows.
By dint of sharp hard words, which some
Give Battle with, and overcome;
These mounted in a Chair Curule,
Which Moderns call a Cucking-stool,
March proudly to the River's side,
And o'er the Waves in Triumph ride.
Like Dukes of Venice, who are sed
The Adriatique Sea to wed,
And have a gentler Wife, than those,
For whom the State decrees those Shows.
But both are Heathenish and come
From th' Whores of Babylon and Rome,
And by the Saints should be withstood,
As Antichristian and Lewd,
And we, as such, should now contribute
Our utmost struglings to prohibite.
Impertinently, and against sense.
'Tis not the least disparagement,
To be defeated by th' event:
No[r] to be beaten by main force,
That does not make a man the worse,
Although his shoulders, with Batoon,
Be claw'd and cudgell'd to some tune;
A Taylers Prentice has no hard
Measure, that's bang'd with a true yard:
But to turn Tail, or run away,
And without blows give up the Day;
Or to surrender ere the Assault,
That's no man's fortune, but his fault:
And renders men of Honor less
Than all th' Adversity of Success,
And only unto such this Shew
Of Horns, and Petticoats, is due.
There is a lesser Profanation,
Like that the Romans call'd Ovation,
For as Ovation was allow'd
For Conquest, purchas'd without blood,
So men decree those lesser Shows,
For Vict'ry gotten without blows.
By dint of sharp hard words, which some
148
These mounted in a Chair Curule,
Which Moderns call a Cucking-stool,
March proudly to the River's side,
And o'er the Waves in Triumph ride.
Like Dukes of Venice, who are sed
The Adriatique Sea to wed,
And have a gentler Wife, than those,
For whom the State decrees those Shows.
But both are Heathenish and come
From th' Whores of Babylon and Rome,
And by the Saints should be withstood,
As Antichristian and Lewd,
And we, as such, should now contribute
Our utmost struglings to prohibite.
This said, they both advanc'd, and rod,
A Dog-trot through the bawling Crowd,
T'attack the Leader, and still prest,
Till they approach'd him breast to breast.
Then Hudibras, with face and hand,
Made signs for Silence, which obtain'd:
What means (quoth he) this dev'ls Procession
With men of Orthodox profession?
'Tis Ethnique and Idolatrous,
From Heathenism deriv'd to us.
Does not the Whore of Babylon ride
Upon her Horned Beast astride,
Like this proud Dame, who either is
A Type of her, or she of this?
Are things of Superstitious function,
Fit to be us'd in Gospel Sunshine?
It is an Antichristian Opera,
Much us'd in midnight times of Popery;
A running after self-inventions
Of wicked and profane Intentions;
To scandalize that Sex, for scolding,
To whom the Saints are so beholding,
Women, who were our first Apostles,
Without whose aid w'had all been lost else;
Women, that left no stone unturn'd,
In which the Cause might be concern'd:
Brought in their Childrens Spoons and Whistles,
To purchase Swords, Carbines, and Pistols:
Their Husbands, Cullies, and Sweet-hearts,
To take the Saints and Churches parts;
Drew several gifted Brethren in,
That for the Bishops would have been,
And fix'd them constant to the Party,
With motives pow'rful and hearty:
Their Husbands rob'd, and made hard shifts
T'administer unto their Guifts;
All they could rap, and run and pilfer,
To scraps, and ends of Gold and Silver;
Rub'd down the Teachers, tir'd and spent,
With holding forth for Parliament;
Pamper'd and edifi'd their Zeal
With Marrow-puddings many a Meal;
Enabled them, with store of meat,
On controverted Points to eat;
And cram'd them till their guts did ake,
With Cawdle, Custard, and Plum-cake.
What have they done, or what left undone,
That might advance the Cause at London?
March'd rank and file, with Drum and Ensign,
T'entrench the City, for defence, in;
Rais'd Rampiers with their own soft hands,
To put the Enemy to stands;
From Ladies down to Oyster-wenches,
Labour'd like Pioneers in Trenches,
Fell to their Pick-axes and Tools,
And help'd the men to dig like Moles?
Have not the Handmaids of the City,
Chosen o'their Members a Committee?
For raising of a Common-Purse,
Out of their Wages, to raise Horse?
And do they not as Triers sit,
To judge what Officers are fit?
Have they ------? At [that] an Egg, let fly,
Hit him directly o'er the eye,
And running down his Cheek, besmear'd,
With Orange-tawny-slime, his Beard:
But Beard, and slime being of one Hue,
The wound the less appear'd in view.
Then he that on the Panniers rode,
Let fly o'th' other side a load;
And quickly charg'd again, gave fully
In Ralpho's face, another Volley.
The Knight was startl'd with the smell,
And for his sword began to feel:
And Ralpho smother'd with the stink,
Grasp'd his: when one that bore a Link,
O'th' sudden, clap'd his flaming Cudgel,
Like Linstock, to the Horse's touch-hole;
And streight another with his Flambeaux,
Gave Ralpho's, o'er the eyes, a damn'd blow.
The Beasts began to kick, and fling,
And forc'd the Rout to make a Ring.
Through which they quickly broke their way,
And brought them off from further fray;
And though disorder'd in Retreat,
Each of them stoutly kept his seat:
For quitting both their Swords and Rains,
They grasp'd with all their strength the manes;
And to avoid the foes pursuit,
With spurring put their Cattle to't,
And till all four were out of wind,
And danger too, ne'r lookt behind.
After th' had paus'd a while, supplying
Their spirits spent with fight and flying,
And Hudibras recruited force,
Of Lungs, for action or discourse:
A Dog-trot through the bawling Crowd,
T'attack the Leader, and still prest,
Till they approach'd him breast to breast.
Then Hudibras, with face and hand,
Made signs for Silence, which obtain'd:
What means (quoth he) this dev'ls Procession
With men of Orthodox profession?
'Tis Ethnique and Idolatrous,
From Heathenism deriv'd to us.
Does not the Whore of Babylon ride
Upon her Horned Beast astride,
Like this proud Dame, who either is
A Type of her, or she of this?
Are things of Superstitious function,
Fit to be us'd in Gospel Sunshine?
It is an Antichristian Opera,
Much us'd in midnight times of Popery;
A running after self-inventions
Of wicked and profane Intentions;
To scandalize that Sex, for scolding,
To whom the Saints are so beholding,
Women, who were our first Apostles,
Without whose aid w'had all been lost else;
Women, that left no stone unturn'd,
149
Brought in their Childrens Spoons and Whistles,
To purchase Swords, Carbines, and Pistols:
Their Husbands, Cullies, and Sweet-hearts,
To take the Saints and Churches parts;
Drew several gifted Brethren in,
That for the Bishops would have been,
And fix'd them constant to the Party,
With motives pow'rful and hearty:
Their Husbands rob'd, and made hard shifts
T'administer unto their Guifts;
All they could rap, and run and pilfer,
To scraps, and ends of Gold and Silver;
Rub'd down the Teachers, tir'd and spent,
With holding forth for Parliament;
Pamper'd and edifi'd their Zeal
With Marrow-puddings many a Meal;
Enabled them, with store of meat,
On controverted Points to eat;
And cram'd them till their guts did ake,
With Cawdle, Custard, and Plum-cake.
What have they done, or what left undone,
That might advance the Cause at London?
March'd rank and file, with Drum and Ensign,
T'entrench the City, for defence, in;
Rais'd Rampiers with their own soft hands,
To put the Enemy to stands;
From Ladies down to Oyster-wenches,
Labour'd like Pioneers in Trenches,
Fell to their Pick-axes and Tools,
And help'd the men to dig like Moles?
Have not the Handmaids of the City,
Chosen o'their Members a Committee?
For raising of a Common-Purse,
Out of their Wages, to raise Horse?
And do they not as Triers sit,
To judge what Officers are fit?
Have they ------? At [that] an Egg, let fly,
Hit him directly o'er the eye,
And running down his Cheek, besmear'd,
150
But Beard, and slime being of one Hue,
The wound the less appear'd in view.
Then he that on the Panniers rode,
Let fly o'th' other side a load;
And quickly charg'd again, gave fully
In Ralpho's face, another Volley.
The Knight was startl'd with the smell,
And for his sword began to feel:
And Ralpho smother'd with the stink,
Grasp'd his: when one that bore a Link,
O'th' sudden, clap'd his flaming Cudgel,
Like Linstock, to the Horse's touch-hole;
And streight another with his Flambeaux,
Gave Ralpho's, o'er the eyes, a damn'd blow.
The Beasts began to kick, and fling,
And forc'd the Rout to make a Ring.
Through which they quickly broke their way,
And brought them off from further fray;
And though disorder'd in Retreat,
Each of them stoutly kept his seat:
For quitting both their Swords and Rains,
They grasp'd with all their strength the manes;
And to avoid the foes pursuit,
With spurring put their Cattle to't,
And till all four were out of wind,
And danger too, ne'r lookt behind.
After th' had paus'd a while, supplying
Their spirits spent with fight and flying,
And Hudibras recruited force,
Of Lungs, for action or discourse:
Quoth he, that man is sure to lose,
That fouls his hands with durty foes:
For where no honor's to be gain'd,
'Tis thrown away in being maintain'd,
'Twas ill for us, we had to do
With so dishonorable a Foe:
For though the Law of Arms does bar
The use of venom'd shot in War,
Yet by the nauseous smell, and noisom,
Their Case-shot savours strong of poison;
And doubtless have been chew'd with teeth
Of some that had a stinking breath:
Else when we put it to the push,
They had not giv'n us such a brush.
But as those Pultroons that fling durt,
Do but defile, but cannot hurt;
So all the Honor they have won,
Or we have lost, is much at one.
'Twas well we made so resolute
A brave Retreat, without pursuit;
For if we had not, we had sped
Much worse, to be in Triumph led;
Than which, the Ancients held no state,
Of Man's life more unfortunate.
But if this bold Adventure e'er
Do chance to reach the Widows ear,
It may, b'ing destin'd to assert
Her Sex's Honor, reach her heart,
And as such homely Treats (they say)
Portend good fortune, so this may.
Vespasian being dawb'd with durt,
Was destin'd to the Empire for't:
And from a Scavinger did come
To be a mighty Prince in Rome:
And why may not this foul Address
Presage in Love the same success?
Then let us streight to cleanse our wounds,
Advance in quest of nearest Ponds;
And after (as we first design'd)
Swear I've perform'd what she enjoin'd.
That fouls his hands with durty foes:
For where no honor's to be gain'd,
'Tis thrown away in being maintain'd,
'Twas ill for us, we had to do
With so dishonorable a Foe:
For though the Law of Arms does bar
The use of venom'd shot in War,
Yet by the nauseous smell, and noisom,
151
And doubtless have been chew'd with teeth
Of some that had a stinking breath:
Else when we put it to the push,
They had not giv'n us such a brush.
But as those Pultroons that fling durt,
Do but defile, but cannot hurt;
So all the Honor they have won,
Or we have lost, is much at one.
'Twas well we made so resolute
A brave Retreat, without pursuit;
For if we had not, we had sped
Much worse, to be in Triumph led;
Than which, the Ancients held no state,
Of Man's life more unfortunate.
But if this bold Adventure e'er
Do chance to reach the Widows ear,
It may, b'ing destin'd to assert
Her Sex's Honor, reach her heart,
And as such homely Treats (they say)
Portend good fortune, so this may.
Vespasian being dawb'd with durt,
Was destin'd to the Empire for't:
And from a Scavinger did come
To be a mighty Prince in Rome:
And why may not this foul Address
Presage in Love the same success?
Then let us streight to cleanse our wounds,
Advance in quest of nearest Ponds;
And after (as we first design'd)
Swear I've perform'd what she enjoin'd.
152
CANTO III.
THE ARGUMENT.
The Knight with various doubts possestTo win the Lady, goes in Quest
Of Sidrophel the Rosy-crucian,
To know the Dest'nies resolution;
With whom being met, they both chop Logick
About the Science Astrologick.
Till falling from Dispute, to Fight,
The Conjurer's worsted by the Knight.
Doubtless the pleasure is as great
Of being cheated, as to cheat.
As lookers-on feel most delight,
That least perceive a Juglers slight;
And still the less they understand,
The more th' admire his slight of hand.
Of being cheated, as to cheat.
As lookers-on feel most delight,
That least perceive a Juglers slight;
And still the less they understand,
The more th' admire his slight of hand.
Some with a noise, and greasie light,
Are snapt, as men catch Larks by night;
Ensnar'd and hamper'd by the Soul,
As Noozes by the legs catch Foul.
Are snapt, as men catch Larks by night;
Ensnar'd and hamper'd by the Soul,
As Noozes by the legs catch Foul.
Some with a Med'cine, and Receipt,
Are drawn to nibble at the Bait;
And though it be a two-foot Trout,
'Tis with a single hair pull'd out.
Are drawn to nibble at the Bait;
And though it be a two-foot Trout,
'Tis with a single hair pull'd out.
Others believe no Voice t'an Organ;
So sweet as Lawyer in his Bar-gown.
Until, with subtle Cobweb-cheats,
Th' are catch'd in knotted Law, like Nets:
In which, when once they are imbrangled,
The more they stir, the more th're tangled;
And while their Purses can dispute,
There's no end of th' immortal Suit.
So sweet as Lawyer in his Bar-gown.
153
Th' are catch'd in knotted Law, like Nets:
In which, when once they are imbrangled,
The more they stir, the more th're tangled;
And while their Purses can dispute,
There's no end of th' immortal Suit.
Others still gape t'anticipate
The Cabinet designs of Fate,
Apply to Wisards to fore-see
What shall, and what shall never be:
And as those Vulturs do foreboad,
Believe Events prove bad, or good.
A flam more sensless than the Roguery
Of old Aruspicy and Augury.
That out of Garbages of Cattle,
Presag'd th' events of Truce, or Battle;
From flight of Birds, or Chickins pecking,
Success of great'st attempts would reckon;
Though Cheats, yet more intelligible,
Than those that with the Stars do fribble.
This Hudibras by proof found true,
As in due time and place we'll shew.
For He, with Beard and Face made clean,
Being mounted on his Steed agen,
(And Ralpho got a Cock-horse too
Upon his Beast, with much ado)
Advanc'd on for the Widows house,
T'acquit himself and pay his Vows;
When various thoughts began to bustle,
And with his inward man to justle.
He thought what danger might accrue,
If she should find he swore untrue:
Or, if his Squire, or he should fail,
And not be punctual in their Tale;
It might at once the ruine prove
Both of his Honor, Faith, and Love.
But if he should forbear to go,
She might conclude h'had broke his Vow;
And that he durst not now for shame
Appear in Court to try his Claim.
This was the Pen'worth of his thought,
To pass time, and uneasie trot.
The Cabinet designs of Fate,
Apply to Wisards to fore-see
What shall, and what shall never be:
And as those Vulturs do foreboad,
Believe Events prove bad, or good.
A flam more sensless than the Roguery
Of old Aruspicy and Augury.
That out of Garbages of Cattle,
Presag'd th' events of Truce, or Battle;
From flight of Birds, or Chickins pecking,
Success of great'st attempts would reckon;
Though Cheats, yet more intelligible,
Than those that with the Stars do fribble.
This Hudibras by proof found true,
As in due time and place we'll shew.
For He, with Beard and Face made clean,
Being mounted on his Steed agen,
(And Ralpho got a Cock-horse too
Upon his Beast, with much ado)
Advanc'd on for the Widows house,
T'acquit himself and pay his Vows;
When various thoughts began to bustle,
And with his inward man to justle.
He thought what danger might accrue,
If she should find he swore untrue:
Or, if his Squire, or he should fail,
And not be punctual in their Tale;
It might at once the ruine prove
Both of his Honor, Faith, and Love.
But if he should forbear to go,
She might conclude h'had broke his Vow;
And that he durst not now for shame
Appear in Court to try his Claim.
154
To pass time, and uneasie trot.
Quoth he, in all my past Adventures,
I ne'er was set so on the Tenters,
Or taken tardy with Dilemma,
That, every way I turn, does hem me;
And with inextricable doubt,
Besets my puzled Wits about:
For though the Dame has been my Bail,
To free me from enchanted Jail:
Yet as a Dog committed close
For some offence, by chance breaks loose,
And quits his Clog; but all in vain,
He still draws after him his Chain.
So though my Ankle she has quitted,
My Heart continues still committed.
And like a Bayl'd and Main-priz'd Lover,
Although at large, I am bound over.
And when I shall appear in Court,
To plead my Cause, and answer for't
Unless the Judge do partial prove,
What will become of Me and Love?
For, if in our account we vary,
Or but in Circumstance miscarry,
Or if she put me to strict proof,
And make me pull my Doublet off,
To shew by evident Record,
Writ on my skin, I've kept my word:
How can I e'er expect to have her,
Having demurr'd unto her favour?
But Faith, and Love, and Honor lost,
Shall be reduc'd t'a Knight o'th' Post:
Beside, that Stripping may prevent
What I'm to prove by Argument;
And justifie I have a Tail,
And that way too, my proof may fail.
Or that I could enucleate,
And solve the Problems of my Fate;
Or find by Necromantick Art,
How far the Dest'nies take my part;
For if I were not more than certain,
To win, and wear her, and her Fortune,
I'd go no farther in this Courtship,
To hazard Soul, Estate, and Worship.
For though an Oath obliges not,
Where any thing is to be got,
(As thou hast prov'd,) yet 'tis profane
And sinful, when men swear in vain.
I ne'er was set so on the Tenters,
Or taken tardy with Dilemma,
That, every way I turn, does hem me;
And with inextricable doubt,
Besets my puzled Wits about:
For though the Dame has been my Bail,
To free me from enchanted Jail:
Yet as a Dog committed close
For some offence, by chance breaks loose,
And quits his Clog; but all in vain,
He still draws after him his Chain.
So though my Ankle she has quitted,
My Heart continues still committed.
And like a Bayl'd and Main-priz'd Lover,
Although at large, I am bound over.
And when I shall appear in Court,
To plead my Cause, and answer for't
Unless the Judge do partial prove,
What will become of Me and Love?
For, if in our account we vary,
Or but in Circumstance miscarry,
Or if she put me to strict proof,
And make me pull my Doublet off,
To shew by evident Record,
Writ on my skin, I've kept my word:
How can I e'er expect to have her,
Having demurr'd unto her favour?
But Faith, and Love, and Honor lost,
Shall be reduc'd t'a Knight o'th' Post:
Beside, that Stripping may prevent
What I'm to prove by Argument;
And justifie I have a Tail,
And that way too, my proof may fail.
Or that I could enucleate,
And solve the Problems of my Fate;
Or find by Necromantick Art,
How far the Dest'nies take my part;
155
To win, and wear her, and her Fortune,
I'd go no farther in this Courtship,
To hazard Soul, Estate, and Worship.
For though an Oath obliges not,
Where any thing is to be got,
(As thou hast prov'd,) yet 'tis profane
And sinful, when men swear in vain.
Quoth Ralph, Not far from hence doth dwell
A cunning man, hight Sidrophel,
That deals in Destinies dark Counsels,
And sage Opinions of the Moon sells;
To whom all People far and near,
On deep importances repair.
When Brass and Pewter hap to stray,
And Linnen slinks out of the way;
When Geese and Pullen are seduc'd,
And Sows of sucking Pigs are chews'd;
When Cattle feel Indisposition,
And need th' opinion of Physitian;
When Murrain reigns in Hogs, or Sheep,
And Chickens languish of the Pip;
When Yeast, and outward means do fail,
And have no pow'r to work on Ale;
When Butter does refuse to come,
And Love proves cross and humorsome:
To him with Questions, and with Urine,
They for discov'ry flock, or Curing.
Quoth Hudibras, This Sidrophel
I've heard of, and should like it well,
If thou canst prove the Saints have freedom,
To go to Sorc'rers when they need 'em.
A cunning man, hight Sidrophel,
That deals in Destinies dark Counsels,
And sage Opinions of the Moon sells;
To whom all People far and near,
On deep importances repair.
When Brass and Pewter hap to stray,
And Linnen slinks out of the way;
When Geese and Pullen are seduc'd,
And Sows of sucking Pigs are chews'd;
When Cattle feel Indisposition,
And need th' opinion of Physitian;
When Murrain reigns in Hogs, or Sheep,
And Chickens languish of the Pip;
When Yeast, and outward means do fail,
And have no pow'r to work on Ale;
When Butter does refuse to come,
And Love proves cross and humorsome:
To him with Questions, and with Urine,
They for discov'ry flock, or Curing.
Quoth Hudibras, This Sidrophel
I've heard of, and should like it well,
If thou canst prove the Saints have freedom,
To go to Sorc'rers when they need 'em.
Says Ralpho, There's no doubt of that:
Those Principles I quoted late,
Prove that the Godly may alledge
For any thing their Priviledge;
And to the Dev'l himself may go,
If they have motives thereunto.
For as there is a War between
The Dev'l and them, it is no Sin,
If they, by subtle Stratagem,
Make use of him, as he does them.
Has not this present Parliament
A Legar to the Devil sent,
Fully empower'd to Treat about
Finding revolted Witches out:
And has not he, within a year,
Hang'd threescore of them in one Shire?
Some only for not being drown'd,
And some for sitting above ground,
Whole days and nights upon their breeches,
And feeling pain, were hang'd for Witches.
And some for putting Knavish tricks
Upon Green-Geese, and Turkey Chicks,
Or Pigs, that suddenly deceast,
Of griefs unnat'ral, as he guest;
Who after prov'd himself a Witch,
And made a Rod for his own breech.
Did not the Dev'l appear to Martin
Luther, in Germany, for certain;
And would have gull'd him with a Trick,
But Mart. was too too Politick?
Did he not help the Dutch to purge,
At Antwerp, their Cathedral Church?
Sing catches to the Saints at Mascon,
And tell them all they came to ask him?
Appear in divers shapes to Kelly?
And speak i'th' Nun at Londons Belly?
Meet with the Parliament's Committee
At Woodstock, on a Pars'nal Treaty?
At Sarum take a Cavalier
I'th' Cause's service, Prisoner?
As Withers in immortal Rime
Has register'd to after-time?
Do not our great Reformers use
This Sidrophel to foreboad News?
To write of Victories next year,
And Castles taken yet i'th' Air;
Of Battels fought at Sea, and Ships
Sunk, two years hence, the last Eclips?
A Total O'erthrow giv'n the King
In Cornwal, Horse, and Foot, next Spring?
And has not he point-blank foretold
Whats'er the close Committee would?
Made Mars and Saturn for the Cause,
The Moon for fundamental Laws?
The Ram, and Bull, and Goat declare
Against the Book of Common Pray'r?
The Scorpion take the Protestation,
And Bear engage for Reformation?
Made all the Royal Stars recant,
Compound, and take the Covenant.
Those Principles I quoted late,
Prove that the Godly may alledge
For any thing their Priviledge;
And to the Dev'l himself may go,
If they have motives thereunto.
For as there is a War between
The Dev'l and them, it is no Sin,
156
Make use of him, as he does them.
Has not this present Parliament
A Legar to the Devil sent,
Fully empower'd to Treat about
Finding revolted Witches out:
And has not he, within a year,
Hang'd threescore of them in one Shire?
Some only for not being drown'd,
And some for sitting above ground,
Whole days and nights upon their breeches,
And feeling pain, were hang'd for Witches.
And some for putting Knavish tricks
Upon Green-Geese, and Turkey Chicks,
Or Pigs, that suddenly deceast,
Of griefs unnat'ral, as he guest;
Who after prov'd himself a Witch,
And made a Rod for his own breech.
Did not the Dev'l appear to Martin
Luther, in Germany, for certain;
And would have gull'd him with a Trick,
But Mart. was too too Politick?
Did he not help the Dutch to purge,
At Antwerp, their Cathedral Church?
In the beginning of the Civil Wars of Flanders, the common people of Antwerp, in a tumult, broke open the Cathedral Church, to demolish Images and Shrines: and did so much mischief in a small time, that Strada writes, There were several Devils seen very busie among them, otherwise it had been impossible.
Sing catches to the Saints at Mascon,
And tell them all they came to ask him?
Appear in divers shapes to Kelly?
And speak i'th' Nun at Londons Belly?
The History of Dr. Dee and the Devil, published by Mer. Causabon, Isac. Fil. Prebend of Canterbury, has a large accompt of all those Passages; in which the stile of the true and false Angels appears to be penn'd by one and the same person. The Nun of London in France, and all her tricks have been seen by many Persons of Quality of this Nation, yet living, who have made very good observations upon the French Book written upon that occasion.
Meet with the Parliament's Committee
At Woodstock, on a Pars'nal Treaty?
At Sarum take a Cavalier
I'th' Cause's service, Prisoner?
As Withers in immortal Rime
Has register'd to after-time?
Do not our great Reformers use
This Sidrophel to foreboad News?
To write of Victories next year,
And Castles taken yet i'th' Air;
Of Battels fought at Sea, and Ships
Sunk, two years hence, the last Eclips?
157
In Cornwal, Horse, and Foot, next Spring?
And has not he point-blank foretold
Whats'er the close Committee would?
Made Mars and Saturn for the Cause,
The Moon for fundamental Laws?
The Ram, and Bull, and Goat declare
Against the Book of Common Pray'r?
The Scorpion take the Protestation,
And Bear engage for Reformation?
Made all the Royal Stars recant,
Compound, and take the Covenant.
Quoth Hudibras, The case is clear,
The Saints ma' imploy a Conjurer;
As thou hast prov'd it by their practice
No Argument like matter of fact is:
And we are best of all led to
Mens Principles by what they do.
Then let us strait advance in quest
Of this profound Gymnosophist:
And as the Fates, and He advise,
Pursue, or wave this Enterprise.
This said, he turn'd about his Steed,
And eftsoons on th' adventure rid,
Where, leave we Him and Ralph a while,
And to the Conj'rer turn our stile:
To let our Reader understand
What's useful of him, before hand.
The Saints ma' imploy a Conjurer;
As thou hast prov'd it by their practice
No Argument like matter of fact is:
And we are best of all led to
Mens Principles by what they do.
Then let us strait advance in quest
Of this profound Gymnosophist:
And as the Fates, and He advise,
Pursue, or wave this Enterprise.
This said, he turn'd about his Steed,
And eftsoons on th' adventure rid,
Where, leave we Him and Ralph a while,
And to the Conj'rer turn our stile:
To let our Reader understand
What's useful of him, before hand.
He had been long t'wards Mathematicks,
Opticks, Philosophy, and Staticks,
Magick, Horoscopy, Astrology,
And was old Dog at Physiology;
But, as a Dog that turns the spit,
Bestirs himself, and plies his feet,
To climb the Wheel; but all in vain,
His own weight brings him down again:
And still he's in the self-same place,
Where at his setting out he was.
So in the Circle of the Arts,
Did he advance his nat'ral Parts;
Till falling back still, for retreat,
He fell to Juggle, Cant, and Cheat;
For as those Fowls that live in Water
Are never wet, he did but smatter;
Whate'er he labour'd to appear,
His understanding still was clear.
Yet none a deeper knowledge boasted,
Since old Hodg Bacon,
and Bod Grosted,
Th' Intelligible world he knew,
And all, men dream on't, to be true:
That in this World, there's not a Wart,
That has not there a Counterpart;
Nor can there on the face of Ground,
An Individual Beard be found,
That has not, in that foreign Nation,
A fellow of the self-same fashion;
So cut, so color'd, and so curl'd,
As those are, in th' Inferior World.
H' had read Dee's Prefaces before
The Dev'l, and Euclide o'er and o'er.
And all th' Intregues, 'twixt him and Kelly,
Lescus, and th' Emperor, [would] tell ye.
But with the Moon was more familiar
Than e'er was Almanack well willer.
Her secrets understood so clear
That some believ'd he had been there.
Knew when she was in fittest mood,
For cutting Corns, or letting blood:
When for anointing Scabs and Itches,
Or to the Bum applying Leeches;
When Sows and Bitches may be spade,
And in what Sign best Sider's made,
Whether the Wane be, or Increase,
Best to set Garlick, or sow Pease.
Who first found out the Man i'th' Moon,
That to the Ancients was unknown;
How many Dukes, and Earls, and Peers,
Are in the Planetary Spheres,
Their Airy Empire: and command
Their sev'ral strengths by Sea and Land;
What factions th' have, and what they drive at
In publick Vogue, and what in private;
With what Designs and Interests,
Each Party manages Contests,
He made an Instrument to know
If the Moon shine at full or no,
That would as soon as e'er she shon, strait
Whether 'twere Day or Night demonstrate;
Tell what her D'ameter t'an Inch is,
And prove she is not made of Green Cheese:
It would demonstrate, that the Man in
The Moon's a Sea Mediterranean.
And that it is no Dog, nor Bitch,
That stands behind him at his breech;
But a huge Caspian Sea, or Lake
With Arms which Men for Legs mistake,
How large a Gulph his Tail composes,
And what a goodly Bay his Nose is;
How many German Leagues by th' scale,
Cape-Snout's from Promontary-Tayl:
He made a Planetary Gin,
Which Rats would run their own heads in,
And come o'purpose to be taken,
Without th' expence of Cheese or Bacon;
With Lute-strings he would counterfeit
Maggots, that crawl on dish of meat,
Quote Moles and Spots, on any place
O'th' body, by the Index-face:
Detect lost Maidenheads, by sneezing,
Or breaking wind of Dames, or pissing.
Cure Warts and Corns, with application
Of Med'cines, to th' Imagination.
Fright Agues into Dogs, and scare
With Rimes the Tooth-ach and Catarrh.
Chase evil spirits away by dint
Of Cickle, Horseshooe, Hollow-flint.
Spit fire out of a Walnut-shell,
Which made the Roman Slaves rebell.
And fire a Mine in China, here,
With Sympathetick Gunpowder.
He knew whats'ever's to be known,
But much more than he knew, would own.
What Med'cine 'twas that Paracelsus
Could make a man with, as he tells us.
What figur'd Slats are best to make,
On wat'ry surface, Duck or Drake.
What Bowling-stones, in running race
Upon a Board, have swiftest pace.
Whether a Pulse beat in the black
List of a Dapl'd Louse's back.
If Systole or Diastole move
Quickest, when he's in wrath, or love:
When two of them do run a race,
Whether they Gallop, Trot, or Pace,
How many scores a Flea will jump,
Of his own length, from Head to Rump;
Which Socrates, and Chærephon
In vain, essay'd so long agon;
Whether his Snout a perfect Nose is,
And not an Elephant's Proboscis,
How many different Specieses
Of Maggots breed in rotten Cheese,
And which are next of kin to those
Engendred in a Chandler's nose.
Or those not seen, but understood,
That live in Vinegar and Wood;
A paultry Wretch, he had, half-starv'd,
That him in place of Zany serv'd;
Hight Whachum, bred to dash and draw,
Not Wine, but more unwholesome Law:
To make 'twixt words and lines, huge gaps,
Wide as Meridians in Maps.
To squander Paper, and spare Ink,
Or cheat men of their words, some think;
From this, by merited degrees,
He to more high Advancement rise:
To be an Under-Conjurer,
Or Journy-man Astrologer:
His bus'ness was to pump and wheedle,
And Men with their own keys unriddle.
To make them to themselves give answers,
For which they pay the Necromancers.
To fetch and carry Intelligence,
Of whom, and what, and where, and whence,
And all Discoveries disperse,
Among th' whole pack of Conjurers;
What Cutpurses have left with them,
For the right owners to redeem;
And, what they dare not vend, find out,
To gain themselves, and th' Art, repute.
Draw Figures, Schemes, and Horoscopes,
Of Newgate, Bridewell, Brokers Shops.
Of Thieves ascendent in the Cart,
And find out all by rules of Art.
Which way a Serving-man that's run
With Cloaths or Mony away, is gone:
Who pick'd a Fob, at Holding-forth,
And where a Watch, for half the worth,
May be redeem'd; or Stolen Plate
Restor'd, at Conscionable rate.
Beside all this, he serv'd his Master
In quality of Poetaster:
And Rimes appropriate could make,
To ev'ry month i'th' Almanack.
When Terms begin, and end, could tell,
With their Returns, in Doggerel.
When the Exchequer opes and shuts,
And Sowgelder, with safety cuts.
When Men may Eat and Drink their fill,
And when be temp'rate if they will.
When use, and when abstain from vice,
Figs, Grapes, Phlebotomy, and Spice.
And as in Prisons, mean Rogues beat
Hemp, for the service of the Great;
So Whachum beat his durty brains,
T'advance his Masters Fame and Gains;
And like the Devil's Oracles,
Put into Dogrel-Rimes his Spells,
Which over ev'ry months blank-page
I'th' Almanack, strange Bilks presage.
He would an Elegy compose
On Maggots squeez'd out of his Nose;
In Lyrick numbers write an Ode on
His Mistriss, eating a Black-pudden:
And when imprison'd Air escap'd her,
It puft him with Poetick Rapture:
His Sonnets charm'd th' attentive Crowd,
By wide-mouth'd Mortal troul'd aloud;
That, circl'd with his long-ear'd Guests,
Like Orpheus look'd, among the Beasts,
A Carman's Horse could not pass by,
But stood ty'd up to Poetry,
No Porter's Burthen past along,
But serv'd for Burthen to his Song.
Each Windore, like a Pill'ry appears,
With heads thrust through, nail'd by the ears:
All Trades run in as to the sight
Of Monsters, or their dear delight;
The Gallow-tree, when cutting Purse,
Breeds bus'ness for Heroick Verse,
Which none does hear, but would have hung
T've been the Theme of such a Song.
Those two together long had liv'd,
In Mansion prudently contriv'd;
Where neither Tree, nor House could bar
The free detection of a Star;
And nigh an Antient Obelisk
Was rais'd by him, found out by Fisk,
On which was written, not in words,
But Hieroglyphick Mute of Birds,
Many rare pithy Saws concerning
The worth of Astrologick Learning:
From top of this there hung a Rope,
To which he fastned Telescope;
The Spectacles, with which the Stars
He reads in smallest Characters.
It hapned as a Boy, one night,
Did fly his Tarsel of a Kite,
The strangest long-wing'd Hauk that flies,
That like a Bird of Paradise,
Or Heralds Martlet, has no legs,
Nor hatches young ones, nor lay[s] Eggs;
His Train was six yards long, milk-white,
At th' end of which there hung a Light,
Enclos'd in Lanthorn made of Paper,
That far off like a Star did appear.
This Sidrophel by chance espy'd,
And with Amazement staring wide,
Bless us, quoth he, What dreadful wonder
Is that, appears in Heaven yonder?
A Comet, and without a Beard?
Or Star, that ne'er before appear'd;
I'm certain, 'tis not in the Scrowl,
Of all those Beasts, and Fish, and Fowl,
With which, like Indian Plantations,
The Learned stock the Constellations:
Nor those that drawn for Signs have bin,
To th' Houses where the Planets Inn.
It must be supernatural,
Unless it be that Cannon-Ball,
That, shot in th' Air, point-blank, upright,
Was born to that prodigious height,
That learn'd Philosophers maintain,
It ne'er came backwards, down agen;
But in the Aery Region yet,
Hangs like the Body o'Mahomet.
For if it be above the Shade,
That by the Earths round bulk is made,
'Tis probable, it may, from far,
Appear no Bullet but a Star.
Opticks, Philosophy, and Staticks,
Magick, Horoscopy, Astrology,
And was old Dog at Physiology;
But, as a Dog that turns the spit,
Bestirs himself, and plies his feet,
To climb the Wheel; but all in vain,
His own weight brings him down again:
And still he's in the self-same place,
Where at his setting out he was.
So in the Circle of the Arts,
Did he advance his nat'ral Parts;
158
He fell to Juggle, Cant, and Cheat;
For as those Fowls that live in Water
Are never wet, he did but smatter;
Whate'er he labour'd to appear,
His understanding still was clear.
Yet none a deeper knowledge boasted,
Since old Hodg Bacon,
Roger Bacon, commonly called Frier Bacon, liv'd in the Reign of our Edward the I. and for some little skill he had in the Mathematicks, was, by the Rabble, accounted a Conjurer, and had the sottish story of the Brazen Head father'd upon him, by the ignorant Monks of those days. Robert Grosthead was Bishop of Lincoln in the Reign of Hen. III. He was a Learned Man for those times, and for that reason suspected by the Clergy to be a Conjurer, for which crime being degraded by Pope Innocent the IV. and summon'd to app[e]ar at Rome, he appeal'd to the Tribunal of Christ; which our Lawyers say is illegal, if not a Præmunire, for offering to sue in a Forraign Court.
Th' Intelligible world he knew,
And all, men dream on't, to be true:
That in this World, there's not a Wart,
That has not there a Counterpart;
Nor can there on the face of Ground,
An Individual Beard be found,
That has not, in that foreign Nation,
A fellow of the self-same fashion;
So cut, so color'd, and so curl'd,
As those are, in th' Inferior World.
H' had read Dee's Prefaces before
The Dev'l, and Euclide o'er and o'er.
And all th' Intregues, 'twixt him and Kelly,
Lescus, and th' Emperor, [would] tell ye.
But with the Moon was more familiar
Than e'er was Almanack well willer.
Her secrets understood so clear
That some believ'd he had been there.
Knew when she was in fittest mood,
For cutting Corns, or letting blood:
When for anointing Scabs and Itches,
Or to the Bum applying Leeches;
When Sows and Bitches may be spade,
And in what Sign best Sider's made,
Whether the Wane be, or Increase,
Best to set Garlick, or sow Pease.
Who first found out the Man i'th' Moon,
That to the Ancients was unknown;
How many Dukes, and Earls, and Peers,
Are in the Planetary Spheres,
Their Airy Empire: and command
Their sev'ral strengths by Sea and Land;
159
In publick Vogue, and what in private;
With what Designs and Interests,
Each Party manages Contests,
He made an Instrument to know
If the Moon shine at full or no,
That would as soon as e'er she shon, strait
Whether 'twere Day or Night demonstrate;
Tell what her D'ameter t'an Inch is,
And prove she is not made of Green Cheese:
It would demonstrate, that the Man in
The Moon's a Sea Mediterranean.
And that it is no Dog, nor Bitch,
That stands behind him at his breech;
But a huge Caspian Sea, or Lake
With Arms which Men for Legs mistake,
How large a Gulph his Tail composes,
And what a goodly Bay his Nose is;
How many German Leagues by th' scale,
Cape-Snout's from Promontary-Tayl:
He made a Planetary Gin,
Which Rats would run their own heads in,
And come o'purpose to be taken,
Without th' expence of Cheese or Bacon;
With Lute-strings he would counterfeit
Maggots, that crawl on dish of meat,
Quote Moles and Spots, on any place
O'th' body, by the Index-face:
Detect lost Maidenheads, by sneezing,
Or breaking wind of Dames, or pissing.
Cure Warts and Corns, with application
Of Med'cines, to th' Imagination.
Fright Agues into Dogs, and scare
With Rimes the Tooth-ach and Catarrh.
Chase evil spirits away by dint
Of Cickle, Horseshooe, Hollow-flint.
Spit fire out of a Walnut-shell,
Which made the Roman Slaves rebell.
And fire a Mine in China, here,
With Sympathetick Gunpowder.
160
But much more than he knew, would own.
What Med'cine 'twas that Paracelsus
Could make a man with, as he tells us.
What figur'd Slats are best to make,
On wat'ry surface, Duck or Drake.
What Bowling-stones, in running race
Upon a Board, have swiftest pace.
Whether a Pulse beat in the black
List of a Dapl'd Louse's back.
If Systole or Diastole move
Quickest, when he's in wrath, or love:
When two of them do run a race,
Whether they Gallop, Trot, or Pace,
How many scores a Flea will jump,
Of his own length, from Head to Rump;
Which Socrates, and Chærephon
In vain, essay'd so long agon;
Whether his Snout a perfect Nose is,
And not an Elephant's Proboscis,
How many different Specieses
Of Maggots breed in rotten Cheese,
And which are next of kin to those
Engendred in a Chandler's nose.
Or those not seen, but understood,
That live in Vinegar and Wood;
A paultry Wretch, he had, half-starv'd,
That him in place of Zany serv'd;
Hight Whachum, bred to dash and draw,
Not Wine, but more unwholesome Law:
To make 'twixt words and lines, huge gaps,
Wide as Meridians in Maps.
To squander Paper, and spare Ink,
Or cheat men of their words, some think;
From this, by merited degrees,
He to more high Advancement rise:
To be an Under-Conjurer,
Or Journy-man Astrologer:
His bus'ness was to pump and wheedle,
And Men with their own keys unriddle.
161
For which they pay the Necromancers.
To fetch and carry Intelligence,
Of whom, and what, and where, and whence,
And all Discoveries disperse,
Among th' whole pack of Conjurers;
What Cutpurses have left with them,
For the right owners to redeem;
And, what they dare not vend, find out,
To gain themselves, and th' Art, repute.
Draw Figures, Schemes, and Horoscopes,
Of Newgate, Bridewell, Brokers Shops.
Of Thieves ascendent in the Cart,
And find out all by rules of Art.
Which way a Serving-man that's run
With Cloaths or Mony away, is gone:
Who pick'd a Fob, at Holding-forth,
And where a Watch, for half the worth,
May be redeem'd; or Stolen Plate
Restor'd, at Conscionable rate.
Beside all this, he serv'd his Master
In quality of Poetaster:
And Rimes appropriate could make,
To ev'ry month i'th' Almanack.
When Terms begin, and end, could tell,
With their Returns, in Doggerel.
When the Exchequer opes and shuts,
And Sowgelder, with safety cuts.
When Men may Eat and Drink their fill,
And when be temp'rate if they will.
When use, and when abstain from vice,
Figs, Grapes, Phlebotomy, and Spice.
And as in Prisons, mean Rogues beat
Hemp, for the service of the Great;
So Whachum beat his durty brains,
T'advance his Masters Fame and Gains;
And like the Devil's Oracles,
Put into Dogrel-Rimes his Spells,
Which over ev'ry months blank-page
I'th' Almanack, strange Bilks presage.
162
On Maggots squeez'd out of his Nose;
In Lyrick numbers write an Ode on
His Mistriss, eating a Black-pudden:
And when imprison'd Air escap'd her,
It puft him with Poetick Rapture:
His Sonnets charm'd th' attentive Crowd,
By wide-mouth'd Mortal troul'd aloud;
That, circl'd with his long-ear'd Guests,
Like Orpheus look'd, among the Beasts,
A Carman's Horse could not pass by,
But stood ty'd up to Poetry,
No Porter's Burthen past along,
But serv'd for Burthen to his Song.
Each Windore, like a Pill'ry appears,
With heads thrust through, nail'd by the ears:
All Trades run in as to the sight
Of Monsters, or their dear delight;
The Gallow-tree, when cutting Purse,
Breeds bus'ness for Heroick Verse,
Which none does hear, but would have hung
T've been the Theme of such a Song.
Those two together long had liv'd,
In Mansion prudently contriv'd;
Where neither Tree, nor House could bar
The free detection of a Star;
And nigh an Antient Obelisk
Was rais'd by him, found out by Fisk,
On which was written, not in words,
But Hieroglyphick Mute of Birds,
Many rare pithy Saws concerning
The worth of Astrologick Learning:
From top of this there hung a Rope,
To which he fastned Telescope;
The Spectacles, with which the Stars
He reads in smallest Characters.
It hapned as a Boy, one night,
Did fly his Tarsel of a Kite,
The strangest long-wing'd Hauk that flies,
That like a Bird of Paradise,
163
Nor hatches young ones, nor lay[s] Eggs;
His Train was six yards long, milk-white,
At th' end of which there hung a Light,
Enclos'd in Lanthorn made of Paper,
That far off like a Star did appear.
This Sidrophel by chance espy'd,
And with Amazement staring wide,
Bless us, quoth he, What dreadful wonder
Is that, appears in Heaven yonder?
A Comet, and without a Beard?
Or Star, that ne'er before appear'd;
I'm certain, 'tis not in the Scrowl,
Of all those Beasts, and Fish, and Fowl,
With which, like Indian Plantations,
The Learned stock the Constellations:
Nor those that drawn for Signs have bin,
To th' Houses where the Planets Inn.
It must be supernatural,
Unless it be that Cannon-Ball,
This experiment was try'd by some Forreign Virtuoso's, who planted a Piece of Ordnance point-blanc against the Zenith, and having fir'd it, the Bullet never rebounded back again, which made them all conclude, that it sticks in the mark; but Des Cartes was of opinion, That it does but hang in the Air.
That, shot in th' Air, point-blank, upright,
Was born to that prodigious height,
That learn'd Philosophers maintain,
It ne'er came backwards, down agen;
But in the Aery Region yet,
Hangs like the Body o'Mahomet.
For if it be above the Shade,
That by the Earths round bulk is made,
'Tis probable, it may, from far,
Appear no Bullet but a Star.
This said, He to his Engine flew,
Plac'd near at hand, in open view,
And rais'd it, till it levell'd right,
Against the Glow-worm Tail of Kite.
Then peeping through, (Bless us quoth he)
It is a Planet now I see;
And if I err not, by his proper
Figure, that's like Tobacco-stopper,
It should be Saturn: yes 'tis clear:
'Tis Saturn, But what makes him there?
He's got between the Dragon's Tail,
And farther leg behind, o'th' Whale;
Pray Heaven, divert the fatal Omen,
For 'tis a Prodigy not common,
And can no less than the Worlds end,
O[r] Natures funeral portend.
With that he fell again to pry
Through Perspective more wistfully,
When by mischance, the fatal string
That kept the Tow'ring Fowl on wing,
Breaking, down fell the Star: Well shot,
Quoth Whachum, who right wisely thought
H' had levell'd at a Star, and hit it:
But Sidrophel more subtle-witted,
Cry'd out, What horrible and fearful,
Portent is this, to see a Star fall;
It threatens Nature, and the doom
Will not be long before it come.
When Stars do fall, 'tis plain enough,
The Day of Judgment's not far off:
As lately 'twas reveal'd to Sedgwick,
And some of us find out by Magick.
Then, since the time we have to live,
In this world's shortned, Let us strive,
To make our best advantage of it,
And pay our losses with our profit.
Plac'd near at hand, in open view,
And rais'd it, till it levell'd right,
Against the Glow-worm Tail of Kite.
Then peeping through, (Bless us quoth he)
It is a Planet now I see;
And if I err not, by his proper
Figure, that's like Tobacco-stopper,
It should be Saturn: yes 'tis clear:
'Tis Saturn, But what makes him there?
164
And farther leg behind, o'th' Whale;
Pray Heaven, divert the fatal Omen,
For 'tis a Prodigy not common,
And can no less than the Worlds end,
O[r] Natures funeral portend.
With that he fell again to pry
Through Perspective more wistfully,
When by mischance, the fatal string
That kept the Tow'ring Fowl on wing,
Breaking, down fell the Star: Well shot,
Quoth Whachum, who right wisely thought
H' had levell'd at a Star, and hit it:
But Sidrophel more subtle-witted,
Cry'd out, What horrible and fearful,
Portent is this, to see a Star fall;
It threatens Nature, and the doom
Will not be long before it come.
When Stars do fall, 'tis plain enough,
The Day of Judgment's not far off:
As lately 'twas reveal'd to Sedgwick,
And some of us find out by Magick.
Then, since the time we have to live,
In this world's shortned, Let us strive,
To make our best advantage of it,
And pay our losses with our profit.
This feat fell out, not long before
The Knight upon the forenam'd score,
In quest of Sidrophel advancing,
Was now in prospect of the Mansion:
Whom he discovering, turn'd his Glass,
And found far off, 'twas Hudibras.
The Knight upon the forenam'd score,
In quest of Sidrophel advancing,
Was now in prospect of the Mansion:
Whom he discovering, turn'd his Glass,
And found far off, 'twas Hudibras.
Whachum (quoth he) look yonder; some
To try, or use our Art, are come:
The one's the Learned Knight; seek out,
And pump 'em, what they come about.
Whachum advanc'd with all submissness,
T'accost 'em, but much more, their bus'ness.
He held the Stirrup, while the Knight,
From Leathern Bare-Bones did alight,
And taking from his hand, the Bridle,
Approach'd the dark Squire to unriddle,
He gave him first the time o'th' day,
And welcom'd him, as he might say:
He ask'd them whence they came, and whither
Their business lay? Quoth Ralpho, hither;
Did you not lose ------? Quoth Ralpho, Nay;
Quoth Whachum, Sir, I meant your way,
Your Knight—Quoth Ralpho, is a Lover,
And pains intollerable doth suffer,
For Lovers hearts are not their own hearts,
Nor Lights nor Lungs, and so forth downwards,
What time—Quoth Ralpho, Sir too long,
Three years it off and on, has hung—
Quoth he, I meant what time o'th' day 'tis.
Quoth Ralpho, between seven and eight 'tis.
Why then (quoth Whachum) my small Art
Tells me, the Dame has a hard Heart,
Or great Estate—Quoth Ralph, a Joynter,
Which makes him have so hot a mind t'her.
Mean while the Knight was making water,
Before he fell upon the matter;
Which having done, the Wizard steps in,
To give him [suitable] Reception;
But kept his bus'ness at a Bay,
Till Whachum put him in the way.
Who having now by Ralpho's light,
Expounded th' Errand of the Knight,
And what he came to know, drew near,
To whisper in the Conj'rers ear.
Which he prevented thus: What was't
Quoth he, that I was saying last,
Before these Gentlemen arriv'd?
Quoth Whachum, Venus you retriv'd,
In opposition with Mars,
And no benigne friendly Stars
T'allay th' effect. Quoth Wizard, So!
In Virgo? Ha! quoth Whachum, No.
Has Saturn nothing to do in't?
One tenth of's Circle to a minute.
'Tis well, quoth he—Sir you'll excuse
This rudeness, I am forc'd to use,
It is a Scheme, and face of Heaven
As the Aspects are dispos'd, this Even,
I was contemplating upon,
When you arriv'd: but now I've done.
To try, or use our Art, are come:
The one's the Learned Knight; seek out,
And pump 'em, what they come about.
Whachum advanc'd with all submissness,
T'accost 'em, but much more, their bus'ness.
He held the Stirrup, while the Knight,
From Leathern Bare-Bones did alight,
165
Approach'd the dark Squire to unriddle,
He gave him first the time o'th' day,
And welcom'd him, as he might say:
He ask'd them whence they came, and whither
Their business lay? Quoth Ralpho, hither;
Did you not lose ------? Quoth Ralpho, Nay;
Quoth Whachum, Sir, I meant your way,
Your Knight—Quoth Ralpho, is a Lover,
And pains intollerable doth suffer,
For Lovers hearts are not their own hearts,
Nor Lights nor Lungs, and so forth downwards,
What time—Quoth Ralpho, Sir too long,
Three years it off and on, has hung—
Quoth he, I meant what time o'th' day 'tis.
Quoth Ralpho, between seven and eight 'tis.
Why then (quoth Whachum) my small Art
Tells me, the Dame has a hard Heart,
Or great Estate—Quoth Ralph, a Joynter,
Which makes him have so hot a mind t'her.
Mean while the Knight was making water,
Before he fell upon the matter;
Which having done, the Wizard steps in,
To give him [suitable] Reception;
But kept his bus'ness at a Bay,
Till Whachum put him in the way.
Who having now by Ralpho's light,
Expounded th' Errand of the Knight,
And what he came to know, drew near,
To whisper in the Conj'rers ear.
Which he prevented thus: What was't
Quoth he, that I was saying last,
Before these Gentlemen arriv'd?
Quoth Whachum, Venus you retriv'd,
In opposition with Mars,
And no benigne friendly Stars
T'allay th' effect. Quoth Wizard, So!
In Virgo? Ha! quoth Whachum, No.
Has Saturn nothing to do in't?
One tenth of's Circle to a minute.
166
This rudeness, I am forc'd to use,
It is a Scheme, and face of Heaven
As the Aspects are dispos'd, this Even,
I was contemplating upon,
When you arriv'd: but now I've done.
Quoth Hudibras, If I appear
Unseasonable in coming here
At such a time, to interrupt
Your Speculations, which I hop'd
Assistance from, and come to use,
'Tis fit that I ask your excuse.
Unseasonable in coming here
At such a time, to interrupt
Your Speculations, which I hop'd
Assistance from, and come to use,
'Tis fit that I ask your excuse.
By no means, Sir, Quoth Sidrophel,
The Stars your coming did foretel:
I did expect you here, and know,
Before you speak, your bus'ness too.
The Stars your coming did foretel:
I did expect you here, and know,
Before you speak, your bus'ness too.
Quoth Hudibras, Make that appear,
And I shall credit whatsoe'er
You tell me after, on your word,
Howe'er unlikely, or absurd.
And I shall credit whatsoe'er
You tell me after, on your word,
Howe'er unlikely, or absurd.
You are in Love, Sir, with a Widow,
Quoth he, that does not greatly heed you;
And [for] three years has rid your Wit
And Passion without drawing Bit:
And now your bus'ness is, to know
If you shall carry her, or no.
Quoth he, that does not greatly heed you;
And [for] three years has rid your Wit
And Passion without drawing Bit:
And now your bus'ness is, to know
If you shall carry her, or no.
Quoth Hudibras, you're in the right,
But how the Devil you come by't,
I cann't imagine; for the Stars
I'm sure, can tell no more than a Horse,
Nor can their Aspects (though you pore
You[r] Eyes o[u]t on 'em) tell you more
Than the Oracle of Sive and Sheers,
That turns as certain as the Spheres;
But if the Devils of your Counsel,
Much may be done, my noble Donzel,
And 'tis on this accompt I come,
To know from you my fatal Doom.
But how the Devil you come by't,
I cann't imagine; for the Stars
I'm sure, can tell no more than a Horse,
Nor can their Aspects (though you pore
You[r] Eyes o[u]t on 'em) tell you more
Than the Oracle of Sive and Sheers,
That turns as certain as the Spheres;
But if the Devils of your Counsel,
Much may be done, my noble Donzel,
And 'tis on this accompt I come,
To know from you my fatal Doom.
Quoth Sidrophel, If you suppose,
Sir Knight, that I am one of those,
I might suspect, and take the Alarm,
Your bus'ness is but to inform,
But if it be; 'tis ne'er the near,
You have a wrong Sow by the Ear,
For I assure you, for my part,
I only deal by Rules of Art,
Such as are lawful, and judge by
Conclusions of Astrology:
But for the Devil, know nothing by him,
But only this, that I defie him.
Sir Knight, that I am one of those,
167
Your bus'ness is but to inform,
But if it be; 'tis ne'er the near,
You have a wrong Sow by the Ear,
For I assure you, for my part,
I only deal by Rules of Art,
Such as are lawful, and judge by
Conclusions of Astrology:
But for the Devil, know nothing by him,
But only this, that I defie him.
Quoth he, Whatever others deem ye
I understand your Metonymie;
Your words of second hand intention,
When things by wrongful names you mention;
The Mystick sense of all your Terms,
That are indeed but Magick Charms,
To raise the Devil, and mean one thing,
And that is, down-right Conjuring:
And in its self more warrantable,
Than Cheat, or Canting to a Rabble,
Or putting Tricks upon the Moon,
Which by confederacy are done.
Your Ancient Conjurers were wont
To make her from her Sphere dismount,
And to their Incantations stoop,
They scorn'd to pore through Telescope,
Or idly play at bo-peep with her,
To find out cloudy, or fair weather,
Which ev'ry Almanack can tell,
Perhaps, as learnedly, and well,
As you your self—Then friend I doubt
You go the farthest way about.
Your Modern Indian Magician
Makes but a hole i'th' Earth to piss in,
And streit resolves all Questions by't,
And seldom fails to be i'th' right,
The Rosy-crucian way's more sure,
To bring the Devil to the Lure,
Each of 'em has a sev'ral Gin,
To catch Intelligences in.
Some by the Nose with fumes trappan 'um,
As Dunstan did the Devil's Grannum.
Others with Characters and Words,
Catch 'em as Men in Nets do Birds.
And some with Symbols, Signs, and Tricks,
Engrav'd in Planetary Nicks.
With their own influences, will fetch 'em,
Down from their Orbs, arrest and catch 'em;
Make 'em depose, and answer to
All Questions, e'er they let them go.
Bumbastus, kept a Devil's Bird
Shut in the Pummel of his Sword,
That taught him all the cunning Pranks,
Of past and future Mountebanks.
Kelly did all his Feats upon
The Devil's Looking-Glass, a Stone,
Where playing with him at Bo-peep,
He solv'd all Problems ne'er so deep.
I understand your Metonymie;
Your words of second hand intention,
When things by wrongful names you mention;
The Mystick sense of all your Terms,
That are indeed but Magick Charms,
To raise the Devil, and mean one thing,
And that is, down-right Conjuring:
And in its self more warrantable,
Than Cheat, or Canting to a Rabble,
Or putting Tricks upon the Moon,
Which by confederacy are done.
Your Ancient Conjurers were wont
To make her from her Sphere dismount,
And to their Incantations stoop,
They scorn'd to pore through Telescope,
Or idly play at bo-peep with her,
To find out cloudy, or fair weather,
Which ev'ry Almanack can tell,
Perhaps, as learnedly, and well,
As you your self—Then friend I doubt
You go the farthest way about.
Your Modern Indian Magician
Makes but a hole i'th' Earth to piss in,
And streit resolves all Questions by't,
And seldom fails to be i'th' right,
The Rosy-crucian way's more sure,
To bring the Devil to the Lure,
Each of 'em has a sev'ral Gin,
To catch Intelligences in.
168
As Dunstan did the Devil's Grannum.
Others with Characters and Words,
Catch 'em as Men in Nets do Birds.
And some with Symbols, Signs, and Tricks,
Engrav'd in Planetary Nicks.
With their own influences, will fetch 'em,
Down from their Orbs, arrest and catch 'em;
Make 'em depose, and answer to
All Questions, e'er they let them go.
Bumbastus, kept a Devil's Bird
Paracelsus is said to have kept a small Devil pris'ner in the Pummel of his Sword, which was the reason, perhaps, why he was so valiant in his Drink; Howsoever it was to better purpose than Annibal carry'd poyson in his, to dispatch himself, if he should happen to be surpriz'd in any great extremity, for the Sword would have done the Feat alone, much better, and more Soldier-like. And it was below the Honor of so great a Commander, to go out of the World like a Rat.
Shut in the Pummel of his Sword,
That taught him all the cunning Pranks,
Of past and future Mountebanks.
Kelly did all his Feats upon
The Devil's Looking-Glass, a Stone,
Where playing with him at Bo-peep,
He solv'd all Problems ne'er so deep.
Agrippa kept a Stygian-Pug,
I'th' garb and habit of a Dog,
That was his Tutor; and the Curr
Read to th' occult Philosopher,
And taught him subtly to maintain
All other Sciences are vain.
Cornelius Agrippa had a Dog, that was suspected to be a Spirit, for some tricks he was wont to do, beyond the capacity of a Dog, as it was thought; but the Author of Magia Adamica has taken a great deal of pains to vindicate both the Doctor and the Dog, from that aspersion, in which he has shown a very great respect and kindness for them both.
I'th' garb and habit of a Dog,
That was his Tutor; and the Curr
Read to th' occult Philosopher,
And taught him subtly to maintain
All other Sciences are vain.
To this, quoth Sidrophello, Sir,
Agrippa was no Conjurer,
Nor Paracelsus, no nor Behman;
Nor was the Dog a Cacodæmon,
But a true Dog, that would shew tricks
For th' Emperor, and leap o'er sticks;
Would fetch and carry, was more civil,
Than other Dogs, but yet no Devil;
And whatsoe'er he's said to do,
He went the self-same way we go.
As for the Rosie-cross Philosophers,
Whom you will have to be but Sorcerers;
What they pretend to, is no more,
Than Trismegistus did before,
Pythagoras, old Zoroaster,
And Appollonius their Master;
To whom they do confess they ow,
All that they do, and all they know.
Agrippa was no Conjurer,
Nor Paracelsus, no nor Behman;
Nor was the Dog a Cacodæmon,
But a true Dog, that would shew tricks
For th' Emperor, and leap o'er sticks;
Would fetch and carry, was more civil,
Than other Dogs, but yet no Devil;
And whatsoe'er he's said to do,
He went the self-same way we go.
As for the Rosie-cross Philosophers,
Whom you will have to be but Sorcerers;
What they pretend to, is no more,
Than Trismegistus did before,
Pythagoras, old Zoroaster,
And Appollonius their Master;
169
All that they do, and all they know.
Quoth Hudibras, Alas what is't to us,
Whether 'twere said by Trismegistus:
If it be nonsence, false, or mystick,
Or not intelligible, or sophistick.
'Tis not Antiquity, nor Author,
That makes truth truth, although time's daughter;
'Twas he that put her in the Pit,
Before he pull'd her out of it.
And as he eats his Sons, just so
He feeds upon his Daughters too.
Nor do's it follow, cause a Herald
Can make a Gentleman scarce a year old,
To be descended of a Race,
Of ancient Kings in a small space;
That we should all Opinion hold
Authentick, that we can make old.
Whether 'twere said by Trismegistus:
If it be nonsence, false, or mystick,
Or not intelligible, or sophistick.
'Tis not Antiquity, nor Author,
That makes truth truth, although time's daughter;
'Twas he that put her in the Pit,
Before he pull'd her out of it.
And as he eats his Sons, just so
He feeds upon his Daughters too.
Nor do's it follow, cause a Herald
Can make a Gentleman scarce a year old,
To be descended of a Race,
Of ancient Kings in a small space;
That we should all Opinion hold
Authentick, that we can make old.
Quoth Sidrophel, It is no part
Of prudence, to cry down an Art;
And what it may perform, deny
Because you understand not why.
(As Averrhois play'd but [a] mean trick,
To damn our whole Art for Excentrick)
For who knows all that knowledge contains?
Men dwell not on the Tops of Mountains,
But on their sides, or rising's seat;
So 'tis with knowledge's vast height,
Do not the Hist'ries of all Ages
Relate miraculous presages,
Of strange turns in the World's affairs,
Foreseen b'Astrologers, Soothsayers,
Chaldeans, Learn'd Genethliacks,
And some that have writ Almanacks?
The Median Emp'rour dreamt, his Daughter,
Had pist all Asia under water,
And that a Vine, sprung from her hanches,
O'erspread his Empire, with its branches;
And did not Soothsayers expound it,
As after by th' event he found it?
When Cæsar in the Senate fell,
Did not the Sun eclips'd foretel,
And in resentment of his slaughter,
Look'd pale for almost a year after?
Augustus having, b'oversight,
Put on his left Shooe, 'fore his right,
Had like to have been slain that day,
By Soldiers mutining for pay.
Are there no myriads of this sort,
Which Stories of all times report?
Is it not ominous in all Countreys,
When Crows and Ravens croak upon Trees?
Of prudence, to cry down an Art;
And what it may perform, deny
Because you understand not why.
(As Averrhois play'd but [a] mean trick,
To damn our whole Art for Excentrick)
For who knows all that knowledge contains?
Men dwell not on the Tops of Mountains,
But on their sides, or rising's seat;
So 'tis with knowledge's vast height,
Do not the Hist'ries of all Ages
Relate miraculous presages,
Of strange turns in the World's affairs,
Foreseen b'Astrologers, Soothsayers,
Chaldeans, Learn'd Genethliacks,
And some that have writ Almanacks?
The Median Emp'rour dreamt, his Daughter,
Had pist all Asia under water,
And that a Vine, sprung from her hanches,
O'erspread his Empire, with its branches;
And did not Soothsayers expound it,
As after by th' event he found it?
170
Did not the Sun eclips'd foretel,
And in resentment of his slaughter,
Look'd pale for almost a year after?
Augustus having, b'oversight,
Put on his left Shooe, 'fore his right,
Had like to have been slain that day,
By Soldiers mutining for pay.
Are there no myriads of this sort,
Which Stories of all times report?
Is it not ominous in all Countreys,
When Crows and Ravens croak upon Trees?
The Roman Senate, when within
The City-walls an Owl was seen,
Did cause their Clergy with Lustrations,
(Our Synod calls Humiliations,)
The round-fac'd Prodigy t'avert
From doing Town or Country hurt.
And if an Owl have so much pow'r,
Why should not Planets have much more?
That in a Region, far above
Inferior fowls o'th' Air, move,
And should see farther, and fore-know,
More than their Augury below:
Though that once serv'd the Polity
Of mighty States to govern by;
And this is that we take in hand,
By pow'rful Art to understand.
Which, how we have perform'd, all Ages
Can speak th' Events of our presages,
Have we not lately in the Moon
Found a New World to th' Old unknown?
Discover'd Sea and Land, Columbus
And Magellan could never compass?
Made Mountains, with our Tubes, appear
And Cattle grazing on 'em there?
The City-walls an Owl was seen,
Did cause their Clergy with Lustrations,
(Our Synod calls Humiliations,)
The round-fac'd Prodigy t'avert
From doing Town or Country hurt.
And if an Owl have so much pow'r,
Why should not Planets have much more?
That in a Region, far above
Inferior fowls o'th' Air, move,
And should see farther, and fore-know,
More than their Augury below:
Though that once serv'd the Polity
Of mighty States to govern by;
And this is that we take in hand,
By pow'rful Art to understand.
Which, how we have perform'd, all Ages
Can speak th' Events of our presages,
Have we not lately in the Moon
Found a New World to th' Old unknown?
Discover'd Sea and Land, Columbus
And Magellan could never compass?
Made Mountains, with our Tubes, appear
And Cattle grazing on 'em there?
Quoth Hudibras, You lie so ope,
That I, without a Telescope,
Can find your Tricks out, and descry
Where you tell truth, and where you lie.
For Anaxagoras long agon,
Saw Hills, as well as you i'th' Moon;
And held the Sun was but a piece
Of Red-hot-Ir'n as big as Greece;
Believ'd the Heavens were made of Stone,
Because the Sun had voided one;
And rather than he would recant
Th' Opinion, suffer'd Banishment.
That I, without a Telescope,
Can find your Tricks out, and descry
Where you tell truth, and where you lie.
171
Saw Hills, as well as you i'th' Moon;
Anaxagoras affirmabat Solem Candens Ferrum esse, & Pelopo[nneso] majorem: Lunam habitacula in se habere, & Colles, & Valles. Fertur dixisse Cælum omne ex Lapidibus esse Compositum; Damnatus & in exilium pulsus est, quod impie, Solem Candentem laminam esse dixisset. Diogen Laert. in Anaxag. p. 11. 13.
And held the Sun was but a piece
Of Red-hot-Ir'n as big as Greece;
Believ'd the Heavens were made of Stone,
Because the Sun had voided one;
And rather than he would recant
Th' Opinion, suffer'd Banishment.
But what, alas, what is't to us,
Whether i'th' Moon, men thus, or thus,
Do eat their Porridge, cut their Corns,
Or whether they have Tails or Horns?
What Trade from thence can you advance
But what we nearer have from France?
What can our Travellers bring home,
That is not to be learnt at Rome?
What Politicks, or strange Opinions,
That are not in our own Dominions?
What Science can be brought from thence,
In which we do not here Commence?
What Revelations, or Religions,
That are not in our Native Regions?
Are sweating Lanthorns, or Screen-Fans
Made better there, than th' are in France?
Or do they teach to sing and play
O'th' Gittarr there a newer [way]?
Can they make Plays there, that shall fit
The Publick Humor with less Wit?
Write wittier Dances, quainter Shows,
Or fight with more ingenious Blows?
Or does the Man i'th' Moon look big,
And wear a huger Periwig,
Shew in his Gate, or Face, more tricks
Than our own Native Lunaticks?
But if w'out-do him here at home,
What good of your design can come?
As wind i'th' Hypochondrias pent
Is but a blast if downward sent;
But if it upwards chance to fly,
Becomes new Light and Prophecy:
So when our Speculations tend,
Above their just and useful end,
Although they promise strange and great,
Discoveries of things far fet,
They are but idle Dreams and Fancies,
And savor strongly of the Ganzas,
Tell me but what's the nat'ral cause,
Why on a Sign, no Painter draws
The Full-Moon ever, but the Half,
Resolve that with your Jacobs-staff;
Or why wolves raise a Hubbub at her,
And Dogs howl when she shines in water;
And I shall freely give my Vote,
You may know something more remote.
Whether i'th' Moon, men thus, or thus,
Do eat their Porridge, cut their Corns,
Or whether they have Tails or Horns?
What Trade from thence can you advance
But what we nearer have from France?
What can our Travellers bring home,
That is not to be learnt at Rome?
What Politicks, or strange Opinions,
That are not in our own Dominions?
What Science can be brought from thence,
In which we do not here Commence?
What Revelations, or Religions,
That are not in our Native Regions?
Are sweating Lanthorns, or Screen-Fans
Made better there, than th' are in France?
Or do they teach to sing and play
O'th' Gittarr there a newer [way]?
Can they make Plays there, that shall fit
The Publick Humor with less Wit?
Write wittier Dances, quainter Shows,
Or fight with more ingenious Blows?
Or does the Man i'th' Moon look big,
And wear a huger Periwig,
Shew in his Gate, or Face, more tricks
Than our own Native Lunaticks?
But if w'out-do him here at home,
What good of your design can come?
As wind i'th' Hypochondrias pent
Is but a blast if downward sent;
But if it upwards chance to fly,
Becomes new Light and Prophecy:
172
Above their just and useful end,
Although they promise strange and great,
Discoveries of things far fet,
They are but idle Dreams and Fancies,
And savor strongly of the Ganzas,
Tell me but what's the nat'ral cause,
Why on a Sign, no Painter draws
The Full-Moon ever, but the Half,
Resolve that with your Jacobs-staff;
Or why wolves raise a Hubbub at her,
And Dogs howl when she shines in water;
And I shall freely give my Vote,
You may know something more remote.
At this deep Sidrophel look'd wise,
And staring round with Owl-like Eies,
He put his face into a posture
Of Sapience, and began to bluster;
For having three times shook his head
To stir his wit up, thus he said.
And staring round with Owl-like Eies,
He put his face into a posture
Of Sapience, and began to bluster;
For having three times shook his head
To stir his wit up, thus he said.
Art has no mortal enemies
Next Ignorance, but Owls and Geese;
Those Consecrated Geese in Orders,
That to the Capitol were Warders:
And being then upon Petrol
With noise alone beat off the Gaul.
Or those Athenian Sceptick Owls,
That will not credit their own Souls;
Or any Science understand,
Beyond the reach of Eye, or Hand:
But meas'ring all things by their own
Knowledge, hold, Nothing's to be known.
Those whole-sale Criticks, that in Coffee-
Houses, cry down all Philosophy.
And will not know, upon what ground
In Nature, we our doctrine found;
Although with pregnant evidence,
We can demonstrate it to sence.
As I just now have done to you,
Fortelling what you came to know.
Were the Stars only made to light
Robbers and Burglarers by night?
To wait on Drunkards, Thieves, Gold-finders,
And Lovers solacing behind Dores?
Or giving one another Pledges
Of Matrimony under Hedges?
Or Witches Simpling, and on Gibbets
Cutting from Malefactors snippets?
Or from the Pillory tips of Ears
Of Rebel-Saints, and Perjurers?
Only to stand by and look on,
But not know what is said or done?
Is there a Constellation there,
That was not born and bred up here?
And th[ere]fore cannot be to learn,
In any inferior Concern.
Were they not, during all their lives,
Most of 'em Pirats, Whores, and Thieves?
And is it like they have not still
In their old Practises some skill?
Is there a Planet that by Birth
Does not derive its House from Earth?
And therefore probably must know
What is, and hath been done below?
Who made the Ballance, or whence came
The Bull, the Lion, and the Ram?
Did not we here, the Argo rigg
Make Berenice's Periwig?
Whose Liv'ry does the Coachman wear?
Or who made Cassiopæa's Chair?
And therefore as they came from hence,
With us may hold Intelligence.
Plato deny'd, The World can be
Govern'd without Geometry,
(For Mony b'ing the common Scale
Of things by measure, weight, and tale;
In all th' affairs of Church and State,
'Tis both the Ballance and the Weight:)
Then much less can it be without
Divine Astrology made out,
That puts the other down in worth,
As far as Heaven's above Earth.
Next Ignorance, but Owls and Geese;
Those Consecrated Geese in Orders,
That to the Capitol were Warders:
And being then upon Petrol
With noise alone beat off the Gaul.
Or those Athenian Sceptick Owls,
That will not credit their own Souls;
Or any Science understand,
Beyond the reach of Eye, or Hand:
But meas'ring all things by their own
Knowledge, hold, Nothing's to be known.
Those whole-sale Criticks, that in Coffee-
Houses, cry down all Philosophy.
And will not know, upon what ground
In Nature, we our doctrine found;
Although with pregnant evidence,
We can demonstrate it to sence.
As I just now have done to you,
Fortelling what you came to know.
173
Robbers and Burglarers by night?
To wait on Drunkards, Thieves, Gold-finders,
And Lovers solacing behind Dores?
Or giving one another Pledges
Of Matrimony under Hedges?
Or Witches Simpling, and on Gibbets
Cutting from Malefactors snippets?
Or from the Pillory tips of Ears
Of Rebel-Saints, and Perjurers?
Only to stand by and look on,
But not know what is said or done?
Is there a Constellation there,
That was not born and bred up here?
And th[ere]fore cannot be to learn,
In any inferior Concern.
Were they not, during all their lives,
Most of 'em Pirats, Whores, and Thieves?
And is it like they have not still
In their old Practises some skill?
Is there a Planet that by Birth
Does not derive its House from Earth?
And therefore probably must know
What is, and hath been done below?
Who made the Ballance, or whence came
The Bull, the Lion, and the Ram?
Did not we here, the Argo rigg
Make Berenice's Periwig?
Whose Liv'ry does the Coachman wear?
Or who made Cassiopæa's Chair?
And therefore as they came from hence,
With us may hold Intelligence.
Plato deny'd, The World can be
Govern'd without Geometry,
(For Mony b'ing the common Scale
Of things by measure, weight, and tale;
In all th' affairs of Church and State,
'Tis both the Ballance and the Weight:)
Then much less can it be without
Divine Astrology made out,
174
As far as Heaven's above Earth.
These reasons (quoth the Knight) I grant
Are something more significant
Than any that the Learned use,
Upon this subject to produce;
And yet, th' are far from satisfactory
T'establish and keep up your Factory.
The Egyptians say, The Sun has twice
Shifted his setting and his rise;
Twice has he risen in the West,
As many times set in the East;
But whether that be true, or no,
The Devil any of you know.
Some hold, the Heavens, like a Top,
Are kept by Circulation up;
And 'twere not for their wheeling round,
They'd instantly fall to the ground:
As sage Empedocles of old,
And from him Modern Authors [hold].
Plato believ'd the Sun and Moon,
Below all other Planets run.
Some Mercury, some Venus seat
Above the Sun himself in height.
The learned Scaliger complain'd
'Gainst what Copernicus maintain'd,
That in Twelve hundred years, and odd,
The Sun had left his antient Road,
And nearer to the Earth, is come
'Bove Fifty thousand miles from home:
Swore 'twas a most notorious Flam,
And he that had so little Shame
To vent such Fopperies abroad,
Deserv'd to have his Rump well claw'd;
Which Monsieur Bodin hearing, swore
That he deserv'd the Rod much more,
That durst upon a truth give doom,
He knew less than the Pope of Rome.
Cardan believ'd, Great States depend
Upon the tip o'th' Bears Tails end;
That as she whisk'd it t'wards the Sun,
Strow'd Mighty Empires up and down;
Which others say must needs be false,
Because your true Bears have no Tails.
Some say, the Zodiack-Constellations
Have long since chang'd their antique Stations
Above a Sign; and prove the same,
In Taurus now, once in the Ram;
Affirm the Trigons chop'd and chang'd,
The Watry with the Fiery rang'd;
Then how can their effects still hold
To be the same they were of old.
This, though the Art were true, would make
Our Modern Soothsayers mistake;
And is one cause they tell more lies,
In Figures and Nativities,
Than th' old Chaldean Conjurers,
In so many hundred thousand years;
Beside their Nonsense in translating,
For want of Accidence and Latine.
Like Idus and Calendæ Englisht
The Quarter-days, by skilful Linguist,
And yet with Canting, Slight, and Cheat
'Twill serve their turn to do the feat;
Make Fools believe in their fore-seeing
Of things before they are in Being;
To swallow Gudgeons ere th' are catch'd,
And count their Chickens ere th' are hatch'd,
Make them the Constellations prompt,
And give 'em back their own accompt:
But still the best to him that gives
The best price for't, or best believes.
Some Towns and Cities, some, for brevity,
Have cast the Versal World's Nativity;
And made the Infant-Stars confess,
Like Fools or Children, what they please:
Some calculate the hidden fates
Of Monkeys, Puppy-Dogs, and Cats,
Some Running-Nags, and Fighting-Cocks;
Some Love, Trade, Law-Suits, and the Pox;
Some take a measure of the lives
Of Fathers, Mothers, Husbands, Wives,
Make Opposition, Trine, and Quartile;
Tell who is barren, and who fertile,
As if the Planet's first aspect
The tender Infant did infect
In Soul and Body, and instill
All future good, and future ill:
Which, in their dark fatalities lurking,
At destin'd Periods fall a working;
And break out like the hidden seeds
Of long diseases into deeds,
In Friendships, Enmities, and strife,
And all th' emergencies of Life:
No sooner does he peep into,
The World, but he has done his do,
Catch'd all Diseases, took all Physick,
That cures, or kills a man that is sick;
Marry'd his punctual dose of Wives,
Is Cuckolded, and Breaks, or Thrives.
There's but [the] twinkling of a Star
Between a Man of Peace and War,
A Thief and Justice, Fool and Knave,
A huffing Offi[c]er and a Slave,
A crafty Lawyer and Pick-pocket,
A great Philosopher and a Blockhead,
A formal Preacher and a Player,
A learn'd Physitian and Man-slayer.
As if Men from the Stars did suck
Old-age, Diseases, and ill-luck,
Wit, Folly, Honor, Virtue, Vice,
Trade, Travel, Women, Claps, and Dice;
And draw with the first Air they breath,
Battel, and Murther, sudden Death.
Are not these fine Commodities,
To be imported from the Skies?
And vended here among the Rable,
For staple Goods, and warrantable?
Like Mony by the Druids borrow'd,
I'th' other World to be restor'd.
Are something more significant
Than any that the Learned use,
Upon this subject to produce;
And yet, th' are far from satisfactory
T'establish and keep up your Factory.
The Egyptians say, The Sun has twice
Shifted his setting and his rise;
Twice has he risen in the West,
As many times set in the East;
But whether that be true, or no,
The Devil any of you know.
Some hold, the Heavens, like a Top,
Are kept by Circulation up;
And 'twere not for their wheeling round,
They'd instantly fall to the ground:
As sage Empedocles of old,
And from him Modern Authors [hold].
Plato believ'd the Sun and Moon,
Below all other Planets run.
Some Mercury, some Venus seat
Above the Sun himself in height.
The learned Scaliger complain'd
'Gainst what Copernicus maintain'd,
That in Twelve hundred years, and odd,
The Sun had left his antient Road,
And nearer to the Earth, is come
'Bove Fifty thousand miles from home:
Swore 'twas a most notorious Flam,
And he that had so little Shame
To vent such Fopperies abroad,
Deserv'd to have his Rump well claw'd;
Which Monsieur Bodin hearing, swore
That he deserv'd the Rod much more,
That durst upon a truth give doom,
He knew less than the Pope of Rome.
Cardan believ'd, Great States depend
Upon the tip o'th' Bears Tails end;
175
Strow'd Mighty Empires up and down;
Which others say must needs be false,
Because your true Bears have no Tails.
Some say, the Zodiack-Constellations
Have long since chang'd their antique Stations
Above a Sign; and prove the same,
In Taurus now, once in the Ram;
Affirm the Trigons chop'd and chang'd,
The Watry with the Fiery rang'd;
Then how can their effects still hold
To be the same they were of old.
This, though the Art were true, would make
Our Modern Soothsayers mistake;
And is one cause they tell more lies,
In Figures and Nativities,
Than th' old Chaldean Conjurers,
In so many hundred thousand years;
Beside their Nonsense in translating,
For want of Accidence and Latine.
Like Idus and Calendæ Englisht
The Quarter-days, by skilful Linguist,
And yet with Canting, Slight, and Cheat
'Twill serve their turn to do the feat;
Make Fools believe in their fore-seeing
Of things before they are in Being;
To swallow Gudgeons ere th' are catch'd,
And count their Chickens ere th' are hatch'd,
Make them the Constellations prompt,
And give 'em back their own accompt:
But still the best to him that gives
The best price for't, or best believes.
Some Towns and Cities, some, for brevity,
Have cast the Versal World's Nativity;
And made the Infant-Stars confess,
Like Fools or Children, what they please:
Some calculate the hidden fates
Of Monkeys, Puppy-Dogs, and Cats,
Some Running-Nags, and Fighting-Cocks;
Some Love, Trade, Law-Suits, and the Pox;
176
Of Fathers, Mothers, Husbands, Wives,
Make Opposition, Trine, and Quartile;
Tell who is barren, and who fertile,
As if the Planet's first aspect
The tender Infant did infect
In Soul and Body, and instill
All future good, and future ill:
Which, in their dark fatalities lurking,
At destin'd Periods fall a working;
And break out like the hidden seeds
Of long diseases into deeds,
In Friendships, Enmities, and strife,
And all th' emergencies of Life:
No sooner does he peep into,
The World, but he has done his do,
Catch'd all Diseases, took all Physick,
That cures, or kills a man that is sick;
Marry'd his punctual dose of Wives,
Is Cuckolded, and Breaks, or Thrives.
There's but [the] twinkling of a Star
Between a Man of Peace and War,
A Thief and Justice, Fool and Knave,
A huffing Offi[c]er and a Slave,
A crafty Lawyer and Pick-pocket,
A great Philosopher and a Blockhead,
A formal Preacher and a Player,
A learn'd Physitian and Man-slayer.
As if Men from the Stars did suck
Old-age, Diseases, and ill-luck,
Wit, Folly, Honor, Virtue, Vice,
Trade, Travel, Women, Claps, and Dice;
And draw with the first Air they breath,
Battel, and Murther, sudden Death.
Are not these fine Commodities,
To be imported from the Skies?
And vended here among the Rable,
For staple Goods, and warrantable?
Like Mony by the Druids borrow'd,
I'th' other World to be restor'd.
177
Quoth Sidrophel, To let you know
You wrong the Art and Artists too:
Since Arguments are lost on those
That do our Principles oppose;
I will (although I've don't before)
Demonstrate to your sense once more,
And draw a Figure that shall tell you
What you perhaps forget, befel you;
By way of Horary inspection,
Which some accompt our worst erection.
With that, He Circles draws, and Squares
With Cyphers, Astral Characters;
Then looks 'em o'er, to understand 'em,
Although set down Hab-nab, at random.
You wrong the Art and Artists too:
Since Arguments are lost on those
That do our Principles oppose;
I will (although I've don't before)
Demonstrate to your sense once more,
And draw a Figure that shall tell you
What you perhaps forget, befel you;
By way of Horary inspection,
Which some accompt our worst erection.
With that, He Circles draws, and Squares
With Cyphers, Astral Characters;
Then looks 'em o'er, to understand 'em,
Although set down Hab-nab, at random.
Quoth he, This Scheme o'th' Heavens set
Discovers how in fight you met
At Kingston with a Maypole Idol,
And that y'were bang'd both back and side well:
And though you overcame the Bear,
The Dogs beat you at Brentford Fair;
Where sturdy Butchers broke your Noddle,
And handl'd you like a Fop-doodle.
Discovers how in fight you met
At Kingston with a Maypole Idol,
And that y'were bang'd both back and side well:
And though you overcame the Bear,
The Dogs beat you at Brentford Fair;
Where sturdy Butchers broke your Noddle,
And handl'd you like a Fop-doodle.
Quoth Hudibras, I now perceive
You are no Conj'rer, b'your leave,
That Paultry story is untrue,
And forg'd to cheat such Gulls as you.
You are no Conj'rer, b'your leave,
That Paultry story is untrue,
And forg'd to cheat such Gulls as you.
There was a notorious Ideot (that is here describ'd by the Name and Character of Whacum) who counterfeited a Second Part of Hudibras, as untowardly as Captain Po, who could not write himself, and yet made a shift to stand on the Pillory, for Forging other Mens Hands, as his Fellow Whachum, no doubt deserv'd; in whose abominable Doggerel This story of Hudibras and a French Mountebank at Brentford-Fair, is as properly describ'd.
Not true? quoth he, How e'er you vapor,
I can, what I affirm, make appear;
Whachum shall justifie 't [t'] your face,
And prove he was upon the place:
He play'd the Saltinbanco's part,
Transform'd t'a Frenchman by my Art,
He stole your Cloak, and pick'd your Pocket,
Chews'd, and Caldes'd ye like a Block-head:
And what you lost I can produce
If you deny it, here i'th' house.
I can, what I affirm, make appear;
Whachum shall justifie 't [t'] your face,
And prove he was upon the place:
He play'd the Saltinbanco's part,
Transform'd t'a Frenchman by my Art,
He stole your Cloak, and pick'd your Pocket,
Chews'd, and Caldes'd ye like a Block-head:
And what you lost I can produce
If you deny it, here i'th' house.
Quoth Hudibras, I do believe,
That Argument's Demonstrative;
Ralpho, bear witness, and go fetch us
A Constable to seize the Wretches:
For though th' are both false Knaves and Cheats,
Impostors, Juglers, Counterfets,
I'll make them serve for perpendiculars,
As true, as e'er were us'd by Brick-layers;
They 're guilty by their own Confessions,
Of Felony; and at the Sessions
Upon the Bench I will so handle 'em,
That the Vibration of this Pendulum
Shall make all Taylors Yards, of one
Unanimous opinion:
A thing he long has vapour'd of,
But now shall make it out by proof.
That Argument's Demonstrative;
Ralpho, bear witness, and go fetch us
A Constable to seize the Wretches:
178
Impostors, Juglers, Counterfets,
I'll make them serve for perpendiculars,
As true, as e'er were us'd by Brick-layers;
They 're guilty by their own Confessions,
Of Felony; and at the Sessions
Upon the Bench I will so handle 'em,
That the Vibration of this Pendulum
Shall make all Taylors Yards, of one
Unanimous opinion:
The device of the Vibration of a Pendulum, was intended to settle a certain Measure of Ells and Yards, &c. (that should have its foundation in Nature) all the world over: For by swinging a weight at the end of a string, and calculating (by the motion of the Sun, or any Star) how long the Vibration would last, in proportion to the length of the String, and weight of the Pendulum; they thought to reduce it back again, and from any part of time, compute the exact length of any string, that must necessarily vibrate in so much space of time: So that if a man should ask in China for a Quarter of an Hour of Satin or Taffeta, they would know perfectly what it meant. And all Mankind learn a new way to measure things no more by the Yard, Foot, or Inch, but by the Hour, Quarter, and Minute.
A thing he long has vapour'd of,
But now shall make it out by proof.
Quoth Sidrophel, I do not doubt,
To find friends, that will bear me out:
Nor have I hazarded my Art,
And Neck, so long on the States part,
To be expos'd i'th' end to suffer,
By [such] a Braghadochio Huffer.
To find friends, that will bear me out:
Nor have I hazarded my Art,
And Neck, so long on the States part,
To be expos'd i'th' end to suffer,
By [such] a Braghadochio Huffer.
Huffer, quoth Hudibras, This Sword
Shall down thy false throat, Cram that word,
Ralpho, make haste, and call an Officer,
To apprehend this Stygian Sophister;
Mean while I'll hold 'em at a Bay,
Lest he and Whachum run away.
Shall down thy false throat, Cram that word,
Ralpho, make haste, and call an Officer,
To apprehend this Stygian Sophister;
Mean while I'll hold 'em at a Bay,
Lest he and Whachum run away.
But Sidrophel, who from th' Aspect
Of Hudibras, did now erect,
A Figure worse portending far,
Than that of most malignant Star:
Believ'd it now the fittest moment,
To shun the danger that might come on't,
While Hudibras was all alone,
And he and Whachum, two to one;
This being resolv'd, He spy'd by chance,
Behind the Dore, an Iron Lance,
That many a sturdy Limb had gor'd,
And Legs, and Loyns, and Shoulders bord.
He snatch'd it up, and made a Pass,
To make his way through Hudibras.
Whachum had a Fire-Fork,
With which he vow'd to do his Work.
But Hudibras was well prepar'd,
And stoutly stood upon his Guard.
He put by Sidrophello's thrust,
And in, right manfully, he rusht,
The weapon from his gripe he wrung,
And laid him on the earth along.
Whachum his Seacole-Prong threw by,
And basely turn'd his back to fly.
But Hudib[r]as gave him a twitch
As quick as Lightning in the Breech.
Just in the place, where Honor's lodg'd,
As wise Philosophers have judg'd;
Because a kick in that part more
Hurts Honor, than deep wounds before.
Of Hudibras, did now erect,
A Figure worse portending far,
Than that of most malignant Star:
Believ'd it now the fittest moment,
To shun the danger that might come on't,
While Hudibras was all alone,
And he and Whachum, two to one;
This being resolv'd, He spy'd by chance,
Behind the Dore, an Iron Lance,
That many a sturdy Limb had gor'd,
And Legs, and Loyns, and Shoulders bord.
He snatch'd it up, and made a Pass,
To make his way through Hudibras.
Whachum had a Fire-Fork,
With which he vow'd to do his Work.
179
And stoutly stood upon his Guard.
He put by Sidrophello's thrust,
And in, right manfully, he rusht,
The weapon from his gripe he wrung,
And laid him on the earth along.
Whachum his Seacole-Prong threw by,
And basely turn'd his back to fly.
But Hudib[r]as gave him a twitch
As quick as Lightning in the Breech.
Just in the place, where Honor's lodg'd,
As wise Philosophers have judg'd;
Because a kick in that part more
Hurts Honor, than deep wounds before.
Quoth Hudibras, the Stars determine
You are my Prisoners, base Vermine.
Could they not tell you so, as well
As what I came to know, foretel?
By this, what Cheats you are, we find,
That in your own Concerns are blind:
Your Lives are now at my dispose,
To be redeem'd by fine or blows:
But who his Honor would defile,
To take, or sell two lives so vile;
I'll give you Quarter, but your Pillage,
The Conqu'ring Warrier's Crop and Tillage,
Which with his Sword he reaps, and plows;
That mine, the Law of Arms allows.
You are my Prisoners, base Vermine.
Could they not tell you so, as well
As what I came to know, foretel?
By this, what Cheats you are, we find,
That in your own Concerns are blind:
Your Lives are now at my dispose,
To be redeem'd by fine or blows:
But who his Honor would defile,
To take, or sell two lives so vile;
I'll give you Quarter, but your Pillage,
The Conqu'ring Warrier's Crop and Tillage,
Which with his Sword he reaps, and plows;
That mine, the Law of Arms allows.
This said [in haste], in haste he fell
To romaging of Sidrophel.
First, He expounded both his Pockets,
And found a Watch, with Rings and Lockets,
Which had been left with him, t'erect
A Figure for, and so detect.
A Copper-Plate, with Almanacks
Engrav'd upon't, with other knacks,
Of Booker's, Lillie's, Sarah Jimmers,
And Blank-Schemes to discover Nimmers;
A Moon-Dial, with Napier's bones,
And several Constellation-stones,
Engrav'd in Planetary hours,
That over Mortals had strange powers
To make 'em thrive in Law, or Trade;
And stab, or poyson, to evade;
In Wit, or Wisdom to improve,
And be victorious in Love.
Whachum had neither Cross nor Pile,
His Plunder was not worth the while;
All which the Conqu'ror did discompt,
To pay for curing of his Rump.
To romaging of Sidrophel.
First, He expounded both his Pockets,
And found a Watch, with Rings and Lockets,
Which had been left with him, t'erect
A Figure for, and so detect.
A Copper-Plate, with Almanacks
Engrav'd upon't, with other knacks,
Of Booker's, Lillie's, Sarah Jimmers,
And Blank-Schemes to discover Nimmers;
A Moon-Dial, with Napier's bones,
And several Constellation-stones,
180
That over Mortals had strange powers
To make 'em thrive in Law, or Trade;
And stab, or poyson, to evade;
In Wit, or Wisdom to improve,
And be victorious in Love.
Whachum had neither Cross nor Pile,
His Plunder was not worth the while;
All which the Conqu'ror did discompt,
To pay for curing of his Rump.
But Sidrophel, as full of tricks,
As Rota-men of Politicks,
Streight cast about to over-reach
Th' unwary Conqu'ror with a fetch,
And make him glad, (at least) to quit
His Victory, and fly the Pit,
Before the Secular Prince of Darkness
Arriv'd to seize upon his Carkass.
And, as a Fox, with hot pursuit,
Chac'd through a Warren, cast about
To save his credit, and among
Dead Vermin on a Gallows hung;
And while the Dogs ran underneath,
Escap'd (by counterfeiting Death)
Not out of Cunning, but a Train
Of Atoms justling in his Brain,
As learn'd Philosophers give out:
So Sidrophello cast about,
And fell to's w[o]nted Trade again,
To feign himself in earnest slain,
First, stretch'd out one leg, then another,
And seeming in his Breast to smother,
A broken Sigh; Quoth he, Where am I,
Alive, or Dead? Or which way came I
Through so immense a space so soon?
But now, I thought my self i'th' Moon;
And that a Monster with huge Whiskers,
More formidable than a Switzers,
My body through and through had dril'd,
And Whachum by my side, had kill'd,
Had cross-examin'd both our Hose,
And plunder'd all we had to lose;
Look there he is, I see him now,
And feel the place I am run through.
And there lies Whachum by my side,
Stone-dead, and in his own blood dy'd.
Oh! Oh! with that he fetch'd a Grone,
And fell again into a swoun.
Shut both his Eies, and stopt his Breath,
And, to the Life, out-acted Death.
That Hudibras, to all appearing,
Believ'd him to be dead as Herring.
He held it now no longer safe,
To tarry the return of Ralph;
But rather leave him in the Lurch;
Thought he, he has abus'd our Church,
Refus'd to give himself one firk,
To carry on the Publick work.
Despis'd our Synod-men like Durt.
And made their Discipline his sport;
Divulg'd the secrets of their Classes,
And their Conventions prov'd High Places;
Disparag'd their Tith-Pigs, as Pagan,
And set at nought their Cheese and Bacon;
Rail'd at their Covenant, and jear'd
Their rev'rend Parsons to my Beard,
For all which Scandals to be quit,
At once, this Juncture falls out fit.
I'll make him henceforth, to beware,
And tempt my fury, if he dare:
He must (at least) hold up his hand,
By twelve Free-holders to be scan'd,
Who by their skill in Palmistry,
Will quickly read his Destiny;
And make him glad to read his Lesson,
Or take a turn for't at the Session:
Unless his Light and Gifts prove truer,
Than ever yet they did, I'm sure;
For if he scape with Whipping now,
'Tis more than he can hope to do,
And that will disingage my Conscience,
Of th' Obligation, in his own sense.
I'll make him now by force abide,
What he by gentle means deny'd,
To give my Honor satisfaction,
And right the Brethren in the Action.
This being resolv'd with equal speed,
And Conduct, he approach'd his Steed;
And with Activity unwont,
Essay'd the lofty Beast to mount;
Which once atchiev'd, he spurr'd his Palfry,
To get from th' Enemy, and Ralph, free;
Left Danger, Fears, and Foes behind,
And beat, at least three lengths, the Wind.
As Rota-men of Politicks,
Streight cast about to over-reach
Th' unwary Conqu'ror with a fetch,
And make him glad, (at least) to quit
His Victory, and fly the Pit,
Before the Secular Prince of Darkness
Arriv'd to seize upon his Carkass.
And, as a Fox, with hot pursuit,
Chac'd through a Warren, cast about
To save his credit, and among
Dead Vermin on a Gallows hung;
And while the Dogs ran underneath,
Escap'd (by counterfeiting Death)
Not out of Cunning, but a Train
Of Atoms justling in his Brain,
As learn'd Philosophers give out:
So Sidrophello cast about,
And fell to's w[o]nted Trade again,
To feign himself in earnest slain,
First, stretch'd out one leg, then another,
And seeming in his Breast to smother,
A broken Sigh; Quoth he, Where am I,
Alive, or Dead? Or which way came I
Through so immense a space so soon?
But now, I thought my self i'th' Moon;
And that a Monster with huge Whiskers,
More formidable than a Switzers,
My body through and through had dril'd,
And Whachum by my side, had kill'd,
181
And plunder'd all we had to lose;
Look there he is, I see him now,
And feel the place I am run through.
And there lies Whachum by my side,
Stone-dead, and in his own blood dy'd.
Oh! Oh! with that he fetch'd a Grone,
And fell again into a swoun.
Shut both his Eies, and stopt his Breath,
And, to the Life, out-acted Death.
That Hudibras, to all appearing,
Believ'd him to be dead as Herring.
He held it now no longer safe,
To tarry the return of Ralph;
But rather leave him in the Lurch;
Thought he, he has abus'd our Church,
Refus'd to give himself one firk,
To carry on the Publick work.
Despis'd our Synod-men like Durt.
And made their Discipline his sport;
Divulg'd the secrets of their Classes,
And their Conventions prov'd High Places;
Disparag'd their Tith-Pigs, as Pagan,
And set at nought their Cheese and Bacon;
Rail'd at their Covenant, and jear'd
Their rev'rend Parsons to my Beard,
For all which Scandals to be quit,
At once, this Juncture falls out fit.
I'll make him henceforth, to beware,
And tempt my fury, if he dare:
He must (at least) hold up his hand,
By twelve Free-holders to be scan'd,
Who by their skill in Palmistry,
Will quickly read his Destiny;
And make him glad to read his Lesson,
Or take a turn for't at the Session:
Unless his Light and Gifts prove truer,
Than ever yet they did, I'm sure;
For if he scape with Whipping now,
'Tis more than he can hope to do,
182
Of th' Obligation, in his own sense.
I'll make him now by force abide,
What he by gentle means deny'd,
To give my Honor satisfaction,
And right the Brethren in the Action.
This being resolv'd with equal speed,
And Conduct, he approach'd his Steed;
And with Activity unwont,
Essay'd the lofty Beast to mount;
Which once atchiev'd, he spurr'd his Palfry,
To get from th' Enemy, and Ralph, free;
Left Danger, Fears, and Foes behind,
And beat, at least three lengths, the Wind.
183
AN HEROICAL EPISTLE OF HUDIBRAS TO SIDROPHEL.
Ecce iterum Crispinus ------
Well Sidrophel, though 'tis in vain
To tamper with your Crazy Brain,
Without Trepanning of your Scull,
As often as the Moon's at Full:
'Tis not amiss, ere y'are giv'n o'er,
To try one desp'rate Med'cine more:
For where your Case can be no worse,
The desp'rat'st is the wisest course.
Is't possible, that you, whose Ears
Are of the Tribe of Issachars,
And might (with equal Reason) either
For Merit, or extent of Leather,
With William Pryn's, before they were
Retrench'd, and Crucifi'd compare,
184
So roaring as the Publick Voice?
That speaks your virtues free and loud,
And openly in ev'ry croud,
As loud as one that sings his part
T'a Wheel-barrow or Turnip Cart,—
Or your new Nicknam'd old Invention,
To cry Green Hastings with an Engine.
(As if the vehemence had stun'd,
And torn your Drum-heads with the sound)
And 'cause your Folly's now no news,
But over-grown and out of use.
Persuade your self there's no such matter,
But that 'tis vanish'd out of Nature,
When Folly, as it grows in years,
The more extravagant appears.
For who but you could be possest
With so much Ignorance, and Beast,
That neither all mens Scorn, and Hate,
Nor being Laugh'd and Pointed at,
Nor bray'd so often in a Morter,
Can teach you wholesome Sense, and Nurture?
But (like a Reprobate) what course
S'ever's us'd, grow worse and worse?
Can no Transfusion of the Blood,
That makes Fools Cattle, do you good?
Nor putting Pigs t'a Bitch to Nurse,
To turn 'em into Mungrel-Curs,
Put you into a way, at least,
To make your self a better Beast?
Can all your critical Intrigues
Of trying sound from rotten Eggs;
Your several Newfound Remedies,
Of curing Wounds, and Scabs in Trees;
Your Arts of Fluxing them from Claps,
And Purging their infected Saps,
Recov'ring Shankers, Chrystallines,
And Nodes and Botches in their Rindes,
Have no effect to operate
Upon that duller Block, your Pate,
185
To tempt your own due Punishment—?
And like your whimsey'd Chariots draw
The Boys to course you without Law?
As if the Art you have so long
Profest, of making old Dogs young,
In you had Virtue to renew
Not only Youth, but Childhood too.
Can you, that understand all Books
By Judging only with your Looks,
Resolve all Problems with your Face,
As others do with B's, and A's,
Unriddle all that Mankind knows
With solid bending of your Brows,
All Arts and Sciences advance,
With screwing of your Countenance,
And with a penetrating Eye,
Into th' abstrusest Learning pry,
Know more of any Trade b'a hint,
Than those that have been bred up in't,
And yet have no Art true, or false
To help your own bad Naturals?
But still the more you strive t'appear,
Are found to be the wretcheder.
For Fools are known by looking wise,
As Men find Woodcocks by their Eies.
Hence 'tis, that 'cause y'have gain'd o'th' Colledge,
A Quarter-share (at most) of Knowledge,
And brought in none, but spent Repute,
Y'assume a Pow'r as absolute
To Judge and Censure, and Controll,
As if you were the sole Sir Poll
And saucily pretend to know
More than your Dividend comes to,
You'll find the thing will not be done,
With Ignorance, and Face alone:
No though y'have purchas'd to your Name,
In History so great a Fame,
That now your Talent's so well known,
For having all Belief outgrown;
186
Is measur'd by your German Scale,—
By which the Virtuosi try
The Magnitude of ev'ry Ly,
Cast up to what it does amount:
And place the big'st to your account.
That all those stories that are lai'd
Too truely to you, and those made,
Are now still charg'd upon your score,
And lesser Authors nam'd no more.
Alas that Faculty destroys
Those soonest, it designs to raise.
And all your vain Renown will spoil,
As Guns o're-charg'd the more recoyl.
Though he that has but Impudence
To all things has a fair Pretence
And put among his wants, but shame,
To all the world may lay his claim:
Though you have try'd that nothing's born
With greater ease than Publique Scorn;
That all affronts do still give Place
To your Impenetrable Face;
That makes your way through all affairs,
As Pigs through Hedges creep with theirs.
Yet as 'tis Counterfeit and Brass
You must not think 'twill always pass
For all Impostors, when they'r known,
Are past their Labor, and undone.
And all the best that can befall
An Artificial Natural,
Is that which Madmen find, as soon
As once th' are broke loose from the Moon
And proof against her Influence,
Relapse to ere so little Sense
To turn stark Fools, and Subjects fit
For sport of Boys, and Rabble-wit.
FINIS.
| Samuel Butler: Hudibras | |