A paultry wretch he had, half-starv'd,
That him in place of Zany serv'd.
Hight WHACHUM, bred to dash and draw, 325
Not wine, but more unwholesome law
To make 'twixt words and lines huge gaps,
Wide as meridians in maps;
To squander paper, and spare ink,
And cheat men of their words, some think. 330
From this, by merited degrees,
He'd to more high advancement rise;
To be an under-conjurer,
A journeyman astrologer.
His business was to pump and wheedle, 335
And men with their own keys unriddle;
And make them to themselves give answers,
For which they pay the necromancers;
To fetch and carry intelligence,
Of whom, and what, and where, and whence, 340
And all discoveries disperse
Among th' whole pack of conjurers
What cut-purses have left with them
For the right owners to redeem;
And what they dare not vent find out, 345
To gain themselves and th' art repute;
Draw figures, schemes, and horoscopes,
Of Newgate, Bridewell, brokers' shops,
Of thieves ascendant in the cart;
And find out all by rules of art; 350
Which way a serving-man, that's run
With cloaths or money away, is gone:
Who pick'd a fob at holding forth;
And where a watch, for half the worth,
May be redeem'd; or stolen plate 355
Restor'd at conscionable rate.
Beside all this, he serv'd his master
In quality of poetaster;
And rhimes appropriate could make
To ev'ry month i' th almanack 360
What terms begin and end could tell,
With their returns, in doggerel;
When the exchequer opes and shuts,
And sowgelder with safety cuts
When men may eat and drink their fill, 365
And when be temp'rate, if they will;
When use and when abstain from vice,
Figs, grapes, phlebotomy, and spice.
And as in prison mean rogues beat
Hemp for the service of the great, 370
So WHACHUM beats his dirty brains,
T' advance his master's fame and gains
And, like the Devil's oracles,
Put into doggrel rhimes his spells,
Which, over ev'ry month's blank page 375
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 mistress, eating a black-pudden: 380
And when imprison'd air escap'd her,
It puft him with poetic rapture.
His sonnets charm'd th' attentive crowd,
By wide-mouth'd mortal troll'd aloud,
That 'circl'd with his long-ear'd guests, 385
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 pass'd along,
But serv'd for burthen to his song: 390
Each window 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 395
Breeds bus'ness for heroic verse,
Which none does hear, but would have hung
T' have been the theme of such a song.
Those two together long had liv'd,
In mansion prudently contriv'd; 400
Where neither tree nor house could bar
The free detection of a star
And nigh an ancient obelisk
<e> Was rais'd by him, found out by FISK,
On which was a written not in words, 405
But hieroglyphic mute of birds,
Many rare pithy saws concerning
The worth of astrologic learning.
From top of this there hung a rope,
To a which he fasten'd telescope; 410
The spectacles with which the stars
He reads in smallest characters.
It happen'd as a boy, one night,
Did fly his tarsel of a kite,
The strangest long-wing'd hawk that flies, 415
That, like a bird of Paradise,
Or herald's martlet, has no legs,
Nor hatches young ones, nor lays eggs;
His train was six yards long, milk-white,
At th' end of which there hung a light, 420
Inclos'd in lanthorn, made of paper,
That far off like a star did appear.
This SIDROPHEL by chance espy'd,
And with amazement staring wide,
Bless us! quoth he, what dreadful wonder 425
Is that appears in heaven yonder?
A comet, and without a beard!
Or star that ne'er before appear'd!
I'm certain 'tis not in the scrowl
Of all those beasts, and fish, and fowl, 430
With which, like Indian plantations,
The learned stock the constellations
Nor those that draw for signs have bin
To th' houses where the planets inn.
It must be supernatural, 435
<e> Unless it be that cannon-ball
That, shot i' th' air point-blank upright,
Was borne to that prodigious height,
That learn'd Philosophers maintain,
It ne'er came backwards down again; 440
But in the airy region yet
Hangs like the body of MAHOMET
For if it be above the shade
That by the earth's round bulk is made,
'Tis probable it may from far 445
Appear no bullet, but a star.
This said, he to his engine flew,
Plac'd near at hand, in open view,
And rais'd it 'till it levell'd right
Against the glow-worm tail of kite, 450
Then peeping thro', Bless us! (quoth he)
It is a planet, now I see
And, if I err not, by his proper
Figure, that's like tobacco-stopper,
It should be Saturn. Yes, 'tis clear 455
'Tis Saturn; but what makes him there?
He's got between the Dragon's Tail
And farther Leg behind o' th' Whale.
Pray heav'n divert the fatal omen,
For 'tis a prodigy not common; 460
And can no less than the world's end,
Or Nature's funeral, portend.
With that he fell again to pry.
Thro' perspective more wistfully,
When by mischance the fatal string, 465
That kept the tow'ring fowl on wing,
Breaking, down fell the star. Well shot,
Quoth WHACHUM, who right wisely thought
H' had levell'd at a star, and hit it
But SIDROPHEL, more subtle-witted, 470
Cry'd out, What horrible and fearful
Portent is this, to see a star fall?
It threatens nature, and the doom
Will not be long before it come
When stars do fail, 'tis plain enough, 475
The day of judgment's not far off;
<f> 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 shorten'd, let us strive 480
To make our best advantage of it,
And pay our losses with our profit.
This feat fell out not long before
The Knight, upon the forenam'd score,
In quest of SIDROPHEL advancing, 485
Was now in prospect of the mansion
Whom he discov'ring, turn'd his glass,
And found far off, 'twas HUDIBRAS.
WHACHUM, (quoth he), look yonder, some
To try or use our art are come 490
The one's the learned Knight: seek out,
And pump 'em what they come about.
WHACHUM advanc'd, with all submissness,
T' accost em, but much more their bus'ness.
He held a stirrup, while the Knight 495
From leathern bare-bones did alight
And taking from his hand the bridle,
Approach'd the dark Squire to unriddle.
He gave him first the time o' th' day,
And welcom'd him, as he might say: 500
He ask'd him whence he came, and whither
Their bus'ness lay? Quoth RALPHO, Hither.
Did you not lose? Quoth RALPHO, Nay.
Quoth WHACHUM, Sir, I meant your way!
Your Knight — Quoth RALPHO, Is a lover, 505
And pains intolerable doth suffer:
For lovers' hearts are not their own hearts,
Nor lights, nor lungs, and so forth downwards.
What time, (quoth RALPHO), Sir? — Too long
Three years it off and on has hung. — 510
Quoth he, I meant what time o'the day 'tis. —
Quoth RALPHO, Between seven and eight 'tis.
Why then, (quoth Whachum) my small art
Tells me, the dame has a hard heart,
Or great estate. — Quoth RALPH, A jointer, 515
Which makes him have so hot a mind t'her.
Mean while the Knight was making water,
Before he fell upon the matter;
Which having done, the Wizard steps in,
To give him suitable reception 520
But kept his bus'ness at a bay
Till WHACHUM put him in the way;
Who having now, by RALPHO's light.
Expounded th' errand of the Knight,
And what he came to know, drew near, 525
To whisper in the Conj'rer's ear,
Which he prevented thus: What was't,
Quoth he, that I was saying last,
Before these gentlemen arriv'd?
Quoth WHACHUM, Venus you retriev'd, 530
In opposition with Mars,
And no benigne friendly stars
T' allay the effect. — Quoth Wizard, So
In Virgo? Ha! — Quoth WHACHUM, No.
Has Saturn nothing to do in it? 535
One-tenth of's circle to a minute.
'Tis well, quoth he. — Sir, you'll excuse
This rudeness I am forc'd to use
It is a scheme and face of Heaven,
As the aspects are dispos'd this even, 540
I was contemplating upon
When you arriv'd; but now I've done,
Quoth HUDIBRAS, If I appear
Unseasonable in coming here
At such a tone, to interrupt, 545
Your speculations, which I hop'd
Assistance from, and come to use,
'T is fit that I ask your excuse.
By no means, Sir, quoth SIDROPHEL;
The stars your coming did foretel: 550
I did expect you here, and knew,
Before you spake, your bus'ness too.
Quoth HUDIBRAS, Make that appear,
And I shall credit whatsoe'er
You tell me after on your word, 555
Howe'er unlikely, or absurd.
You are in love, Sir, with a widow,
Quoth he, that does not greatly heed you,
And for three years has rid your wit
And passion without drawing bit: 560
And now your bus'ness is to know,
If you shall carry her or no.
Quoth HUDIBRAS, You're in the right;
But how the Devil you came by't
I can't imagine; for the Stars, 565
I'm sure, can tell no more than a horse;
Nor can their aspects (though you pore
Your eyes out on 'em) tell you more
Than th' oracle of sieve and sheers,
That turns as certain as the spheres: 570
But if the Devil's of your counsel,
Much may be done my noble Donzel;
And 'tis on his account I come,
To know from you my fatal doom.