Hudibras, in Three Parts, Written in the Time of the Late Wars - Samuel Butler

HUDIBRAS BY SAMUEL BUTLER

Transcriber's Notes:

Credits: This e-text was scanned, proofed and edited with a glossary and translations from the Latin by Donal O' Danachair. (kodak_seaside@hotmail.com). The text is that of an edition published in London, 1805. This e-text is hereby placed in the public domain.

Spelling and punctuation: These are the same as in the book as far as possible. The AE and OE digraphs have been transcribed as two letters. Greek words have been transliterated.

Notes: The notes are identified by letters in the text, thus: <a>.
In a few cases the note has no text reference: these are indicated <>.

Layout: the line numbers all end in col. 65. View this e-text in a monospaced font such as Courier and they will all line up in the right margin.

Latin: All translations are by the transcriber. In the notes, they immediately follow the Latin text in [square brackets]. Translations of Latin phrases in the poem are in the glossary. Disclaimer: these translations are probably very inaccurate - I am no great Latin scholar.

HUDIBRAS IN THREE PARTS

WRITTEN IN

THE TIME OF THE LATE WARS
——————————-
BY SAMUEL BUTLER, ESQ.
——————————-
WITH
ANNOTATIONS
AND
AN INDEX
———

TO THE READER.

Poeta nascitur non fit, [poets are born, not made] is a sentence of as great truth as antiquity; it being most certain, that all the acquired learning imaginable is insufficient to compleat a poet, without a natural genius and propensity to so noble and sublime an art. And we may, without offence, observe, that many very learned men, who have been ambitious to be thought poets, have only rendered themselves obnoxious to that satyrical inspiration our Author wittily invokes:

Which made them, though it were in spight
Of nature and their stars, to write.

On the one side some who have had very little human learning, but were endued with a large share of natural wit and parts, have become the most celebrated (Shakespear, D'Avenant, &c.) poets of the age they lived in. But, as these last are, "Rarae aves in terris," so, when the muses have not disdained the assistances of other arts and sciences, we are then blessed with those lasting monuments of wit and learning, which may justly claim a kind of eternity upon earth. And our author, had his modesty permitted him, might, with Horace, have said,

Exegi monumentum aere perennius:
[I have raised a memorial more lasting than bronze]

Or, with Ovid,

Jamque opus exegi, quod nec Jovis ira, nec ignis,
Nec poterit ferrum, nec edax abolere vetustas.
[For I have raised a work which neither the rage of Jupiter,
Nor fire, nor iron, nor consuming age can destroy.]

The Author of this celebrated Poem was of this his last composition: for although he had not the happiness of an academical education, as some affirm, if may be perceived, throughout his whole Poem, that he had read much, and was very well accomplished in the most useful parts of human learning.

Rapin (in his reflections) speaking of the necessary qualities belonging to a poet, tells us, he must have a genius extraordinary; great natural gifts; a wit just, fruitful, piercing, solid, and universal; an understanding clear and distinct; an imagination neat and pleasant; an elevation of soul, that depends not only on art or study, but is purely the gift of heaven, which must be sustained by a lively sense and vivacity; judgment to consider wisely of things, and vivacity for the beautiful expression of them, &c.

Now, how justly this character is due to our Author, we leave to the impartial reader, and those of nicer judgment, who had the happiness to be more intimately acquainted with him.

The reputation of this incomparable Poem is so thoroughly established in the world, that it would be superfluous, if not impertinent, to endeavour any panegyric upon it. King Charles II. whom the judicious part of mankind will readily acknowledge to be a sovereign judge of wit, was so great an admirer of it, that he would often pleasantly quote it in his conversation. However, since most men have a curiosity to have some account of such anonymous authors, whose compositions have been eminent for wit or learning, we have, for their information, subjoined a short Life of the Author.

THE AUTHOR'S LIFE.

Samuel Butler, the Author of this excellent Poem, was born in the Parish of Strensham, in the county of Worcester, and baptized there the 13th of Feb. 1612. His father, who was of the same name, was an honest country farmer, who had some small estate of his own, but rented a much greater of the Lord of the Manor where he lived. However, perceiving in this son an early inclination to learning, he made a shift to have him educated in the free-school at Worcester, under Mr. Henry Bright; where having passed the usual time, and being become an excellent school-scholar, he went for some little time to Cambridge, but was never matriculated into that University, his father's abilities not being sufficient to be at the charge of an academical education; so that our Author returned soon into his native county, and became clerk to one Mr. Jefferys, of Earl's-Croom, an eminent Justice of the Peace for that County, with whom he lived some years, in an easy and no contemptible service. Here by the indulgence of a kind master, he had sufficient leisure to apply himself to whatever learning his inclinations led him, which were chiefly history and poetry; to which, for his diversion, he joined music and painting; and I have seen some pictures, said to be of his drawing, which remained in that family; which I mention not for the excellency of them, but to satisfy the reader of his early inclinations to that noble art; for which also he was afterwards entirely beloved by Mr. Samuel Cooper, one of the most eminent painters of his time.

He was after this recommended to that great encourager of learning, Elizabeth Countess of Kent, where he had not only the opportunity to consult all manner of learned books, but to converse also with that living library of learning, the great Mr Selden.

Our Author lived some time also with Sir Samuel Luke, who was of an ancient family in Bedfordshire but, to his dishonour, an eminent commander under the usurper Oliver Cromwell: and then it was, as I am informed, he composed this loyal Poem. For, though fate, more than choice, seems to have placed him in the service of a Knight so notorious, both in his person and politics, yet, by the rule of contraries, one may observe throughout his whole Poem, that he was most orthodox, both in his religion and loyalty. And I am the more induced to believe he wrote it about that time, because he had then the opportunity to converse with those living characters of rebellion, nonsense, and hypocrisy, which he so livelily and pathetically exposes throughout the whole work.

After the restoration of King Charles II. those who were at the helm, minding money more than merit, our Author found that verse in Juvenal to be exactly verified in himself:

Haud facile emergunt, quorum virtutibus obstat
Res angusta domi:
[They do not easily rise whose virtues are held back by the
straitened circumstances of their home]

And being endued with that innate modesty, which rarely finds promotion in princes' courts. He became Secretary to Richard Earl of Carbury, Lord President of the Principality of Wales, who made him Steward of Ludlow-Castle, when the Court there was revived. About this time he married one Mrs. Herbert, a gentlewoman of a very good family, but no widow, as the Oxford Antiquary has reported; she had a competent fortune, but it was most of it unfortunately lost, by being put out on ill securities, so that it was of little advantage to him. He is reported by the Antiquary to have been Secretary to his Grace George Duke of Buckingham, when he was Chancellor to the University of Cambridge; but whether that be true or no, it is certain, the Duke had a great kindness for him, and was often a benefactor to him. But no man was a more generous friend to him, than that Mecaenas of all learned and witty men, Charles Lord Buckhurst, the late Earl of Dorset and Middlesex, who, being himself an excellent poet, knew how to set a just value upon the ingenious performances of others, and has often taken care privately to relieve and supply the necessities of those, whose modesty would endeavour to conceal them; of which our author was a signal instance, as several others have been, who are now living. In fine the integrity of his life, the acuteness of his wit, and easiness of his conversation, had rendered him most acceptable to all men; yet he prudently avoided a multiplicity of acquaintance, and wisely chose such only whom his discerning judgment could distinguish (as Mr. Cowley expresseth it)

From the great vulgar or the small.

And having thus lived to a good old age, admired by all, though personally known to few, he departed this life in the year 1680, and was buried at the charge of his good friend Mr. Longuevil, of the Temple, in the yard belonging to the church of St. Paul's Covent-garden, at the west-end of the said yard, on the north side, under the wall of the said church, and under that wall which parts the yard from the common highway. And since he has no monument yet set up for him, give me leave to borrow his epitaph from that of Michael Drayton, the poet, as the author of Mr. Cowley's has partly done before me:

And though no monument can claim
To be the treasurer of thy name;
This work, which ne'er will die, shall be
An everlasting monument to thee.

PART I

CANTO I

THE ARGUMENT

————————————————————————-
Sir Hudibras his passing worth,
The manner how he sallied forth;
His arms and equipage are shown;
His horse's virtues, and his own.
Th' adventure of the bear and fiddle
Is sung, but breaks off in the middle.
————————————————————————-

When civil dudgeon <a> first grew high,
And men fell out they knew not why?
When hard words, jealousies, and fears,
Set folks together by the ears,
And made them fight, like mad or drunk, 5
For Dame Religion, as for punk;
Whose honesty they all durst swear for,
Though not a man of them knew wherefore:
When Gospel-Trumpeter, surrounded
With long-ear'd rout, to battle sounded, 10
And pulpit, drum ecclesiastick,
Was beat with fist, instead of a stick;
Then did Sir Knight abandon dwelling,
And out he rode a colonelling.
A wight he was, whose very sight wou'd 15
Entitle him Mirror of Knighthood;
That never bent his stubborn knee
To any thing but Chivalry;
Nor put up blow, but that which laid
Right worshipful on shoulder-blade; 20
Chief of domestic knights and errant,
Either for cartel or for warrant;
Great on the bench, great in the saddle,
That could as well bind o'er, as swaddle;
Mighty he was at both of these, 25
And styl'd of war, as well as peace.
(So some rats, of amphibious nature,
Are either for the land or water).
But here our authors make a doubt
Whether he were more wise, or stout: 30
Some hold the one, and some the other;
But howsoe'er they make a pother,
The diff'rence was so small, his brain
Outweigh'd his rage but half a grain;
Which made some take him for a tool 35
That knaves do work with, call'd a fool,
And offer to lay wagers that
As MONTAIGNE, <c> playing with his cat,
Complains she thought him but an ass,
Much more she wou'd Sir HUDIBRAS; 40
(For that's the name our valiant knight
To all his challenges did write).
But they're mistaken very much,
'Tis plain enough he was no such;
We grant, although he had much wit, 45
H' was very shy of using it;
As being loth to wear it out,
And therefore bore it not about,
Unless on holy-days, or so,
As men their best apparel do. 50
Beside, 'tis known he could speak GREEK
As naturally as pigs squeek;
That LATIN was no more difficile,
Than to a blackbird 'tis to whistle:
Being rich in both, he never scanted 55
His bounty unto such as wanted;
But much of either would afford
To many, that had not one word.
For Hebrew roots, although they're found
To flourish most in barren ground, 60
He had such plenty, as suffic'd
To make some <d> think him circumcis'd;
And truly so, he was, perhaps,
Not as a proselyte, but for claps.

He was in LOGIC a great critic, 65
Profoundly skill'd in <e> analytic;
He could distinguish, and divide
A hair 'twixt south, and south-west side:
On either which he would dispute,
Confute, change hands, and still confute, 70
He'd undertake to prove, by force
Of argument, a man's no horse;
He'd prove a buzzard is no fowl,
And that a lord may be an owl,
A calf an alderman, a goose a justice, 75
And rooks Committee-men and Trustees.
He'd run in debt by disputation,
And pay with ratiocination.
All this by syllogism, true
In mood and figure, he would do. 80
For RHETORIC, he could not ope
His mouth, but out there flew a trope;
And when he happen'd to break off
I' th' middle of his speech, or cough,
H' had hard words,ready to show why, 85
And tell what rules he did it by;
Else, when with greatest art he spoke,
You'd think he talk'd like other folk,
For all a rhetorician's rules
Teach nothing but to name his tools. 90
His ordinary rate of speech
In loftiness of sound was rich;
A Babylonish <f>dialect,
Which learned pedants much affect.
It was a parti-colour'd dress 95
Of patch'd and pie-bald languages;
'Twas English cut on Greek and Latin,
Like fustian heretofore on satin;
It had an odd promiscuous tone,
As if h' had talk'd three parts in one; 100
Which made some think, when he did gabble,
Th' had heard three labourers of Babel;
Or <g> CERBERUS himself pronounce
A leash of languages at once.
This he as volubly would vent 105
As if his stock would ne'er be spent:
And truly, to support that charge,
He had supplies as vast and large;
For he cou'd coin, or counterfeit
New words, with little or no wit: 110
Words so debas'd and hard, no stone
Was hard enough to touch them on;
And when with hasty noise he spoke 'em,
The ignorant for current took 'em;
That had the <h> orator, who once 115
Did fill his mouth with pebble stones
When he harangu'd, but known his phrase
He would have us'd no other ways.
In MATHEMATICKS he was greater
Than TYCHO BRAHE, or ERRA PATER: 120
For he, by geometric scale,
Could take the size of pots of ale;
Resolve, by sines and tangents straight,
If bread or butter wanted weight,
And wisely tell what hour o' th' day 125
The clock does strike by algebra.
Beside, he was a shrewd PHILOSOPHER,
And had read ev'ry text and gloss over;
Whate'er the crabbed'st author hath,
He understood b' implicit faith: 130
Whatever <k> sceptic could inquire for,
For ev'ry why he had a wherefore;
Knew more than forty of them do,
As far as words and terms cou'd go.
All which he understood by rote, 135
And, as occasion serv'd, would quote;
No matter whether right or wrong,
They might be either said or sung.
His notions fitted things so well,
That which was which he could not tell; 140
But oftentimes mistook th' one
For th' other, as great clerks have done.
He could <l> reduce all things to acts,
And knew their natures by abstracts;
Where entity and quiddity, 145
The ghosts of defunct bodies fly;
Where <m> truth in person does appear,
Like words <n> congeal'd in northern air.
He knew what's what, and that's as high
As metaphysic wit can fly; 150
In school-divinity as able
As <o> he that hight, Irrefragable;
A second THOMAS, or, at once,
To name them all, another DUNCE:
Profound in all the Nominal 155
And Real ways, beyond them all:
For he a rope of sand cou'd twist
As <q> tough as learned SORBONIST;
And weave fine cobwebs, fit for skull
That's empty when the moon is full; 160
Such as take lodgings in a head
That's to be let unfurnished.
He could raise scruples dark and nice,
And after solve 'em in a trice;
As if Divinity had catch'd 165
The itch, on purpose to be scratch'd;
Or, like a mountebank, did wound
And stab herself with doubts profound,
Only to show with how small pain
The sores of Faith are cur'd again; 170
Although by woeful proof we find,
They always leave a scar behind.
He knew <r> the seat of Paradise,
Could tell in what degree it lies;
And, as he was dispos'd, could prove it, 175
Below the moon, or else above it.
What Adam dreamt of, when his bride
Came from her closet in his side:
Whether the devil tempted her
By a <s> High Dutch interpreter; 180
If either of them <t> had a navel:
Who first made music malleable:
Whether the serpent, at the fall,
Had cloven feet, or none at all.
All this, without a gloss, or comment, 185
He could unriddle in a moment,
In proper terms, such as men smatter
When they throw out, and miss the matter.

For his Religion, it was fit
To match his learning and his wit; 190
'Twas Presbyterian true blue;
For he was of that stubborn crew
Of errant saints, whom all men grant
To be the true Church Militant;
Such as do build their faith upon 195
The holy text of pike and gun;
Decide all controversies by
Infallible artillery;
And prove their doctrine orthodox
By apostolic blows and knocks; 200
Call fire and sword and desolation,
A godly thorough reformation,
Which always must be carried on,
And still be doing, never done;
As if religion were intended 205
For nothing else but to be mended.
A sect, whose chief devotion lies
In odd perverse antipathies;
In falling out with that or this,
And finding somewhat still amiss; 210
More peevish, cross, and splenetick,
Than dog distract, or monkey sick.
That with more care keep holy-day
The wrong, than others the right way;
Compound for sins they are inclin'd to, 215
By damning those they have no mind to:
Still so perverse and opposite,
As if they worshipp'd God for spite.
The self-same thing they will abhor
One way, and long another for. 220
Free-will they one way disavow,
Another, nothing else allow:
All piety consists therein
In them, in other men all sin:
Rather than fail, they will defy 225
That which they love most tenderly;
Quarrel with minc'd-pies, and disparage
Their best and dearest friend, plum-porridge;
Fat pig and goose itself oppose,
And blaspheme custard through the nose. 230
Th' apostles of this fierce religion,
Like MAHOMET'S, <w> were ass and pidgeon,
To whom our knight, by fast instinct
Of wit and temper, was so linkt,
As if hypocrisy and nonsense 235
Had got th' advowson of his conscience.

Thus was he gifted and accouter'd;
We mean on th' inside, not the outward;
That next of all we shall discuss:
Then listen, Sirs, it follows thus 240
His tawny beard was th' equal grace
Both of his wisdom and his face;
In cut and dye so like a tile,
A sudden view it would beguile:
The upper part thereof was whey; 245
The nether, orange mix'd with grey.
This hairy meteor did denounce
The fall of scepters and of crowns;
With grisly type did represent
Declining age of government; 250
And tell with hieroglyphick spade,
Its own grave and the state's were made.
Like SAMPSON'S heart-breakers, it grew
In time to make a nation rue;
Tho' it contributed its own fall, 255
To wait upon the publick downfal,
It was <x> monastick, and did grow
In holy orders by strict vow;
Of rule as sullen and severe
As that of rigid Cordeliere. 260
'Twas bound to suffer persecution
And martyrdom with resolution;
T' oppose itself against the hate
And vengeance of th' incensed state;
In whose defiance it was worn, 265
Still ready to be pull'd and torn;
With red-hot irons to be tortur'd;
Revil'd, and spit upon, and martyr'd.
Maugre all which, 'twas to stand fast
As long as monarchy shou'd last; 270
But when the state should hap to reel,
'Twas to submit to fatal steel,
And fall, as it was consecrate,
A sacrifice to fall of state;
Whose thread of life the fatal sisters 275
Did twist together with its whiskers,
And twine so close, that time should never,
In life or death, their fortunes sever;
But with his rusty sickle mow
Both down together at a blow. 280
So learned TALIACOTIUS <y> from
The brawny part of porter's bum
Cut supplemental noses, which
Wou'd last as long as parent breech;
But when the date of NOCK was out, 285
Off drop'd the sympathetic snout.

His back, or rather burthen, show'd,
As if it stoop'd with its own load:
For as AENEAS <z>bore his sire
Upon his shoulders thro' the fire, 290
Our Knight did bear no less a pack
Of his own buttocks on his back;
Which now had almost got the upper-
Hand of his head, for want of crupper.
To poise this equally, he bore 295
A paunch of the same bulk before;
Which still he had a special care
To keep well-cramm'd with thrifty fare;
As white-pot, butter-milk, and curds,
Such as a country-house affords; 300
With other vittle, which anon
We farther shall dilate upon,
When of his hose we come to treat,
The cupboard where he kept his meat.

His doublet was of sturdy buff, 305
And tho' not sword, yet cudgel-proof;
Whereby 'twas fitter for his use,
Who fear'd no blows, but such as bruise.

His breeches were of rugged woollen,
And had been at the siege of Bullen; 310
To old King HARRY so well known,
Some writers held they were his own.
Thro' they were lin'd with many a piece
Of ammunition bread and cheese,
And fat black-puddings, proper food 315
For warriors that delight in blood.
For, as we said, he always chose
To carry vittle in his hose,
That often tempted rats and mice
The ammunition to surprise: 320
And when he put a hand but in
The one or t' other magazine,
They stoutly in defence on't stood,
And from the wounded foe drew blood;
And 'till th' were storm'd and beaten out, 325
Ne'er left the fortify'd redoubt.
And tho' Knights Errant, as some think,
Of old did neither eat nor drink,
Because, when thorough desarts vast,
And regions desolate, they past, 330
Where belly-timber above ground,
Or under, was not to be found,
Unless they graz'd, there's not one word
Of their provision on record;
Which made some confidently write, 335
They had no stomachs, but to fight.
'Tis false: for <a> ARTHUR wore in hall
Round table like a farthingal,
On which with shirt pull'd out behind,
And eke before, his good Knights din'd. 340
Though 'twas no table, some suppose,
But a huge pair of round trunk hose;
In which he carry'd as much meat
As he and all the Knights cou'd eat,
When, laying by their swords and truncheons, 345
They took their breakfasts, or their nuncheons.
But let that pass at present, lest
We should forget where we digrest,
As learned authors use, to whom
We leave it, and to th' purpose come, 350

His puissant sword unto his side,
Near his undaunted heart, was ty'd;
With basket-hilt, that wou'd hold broth,
And serve for fight and dinner both.
In it he melted lead for bullets, 355
To shoot at foes, and sometimes pullets,
To whom he bore so fell a grutch,
He ne'er gave quarter t' any such.
The trenchant blade, Toledo trusty,
For want of fighting, was grown rusty, 360
And ate unto itself, for lack
Of somebody to hew and hack.
The peaceful scabbard where it dwelt
The rancour of its edge had felt;
For of the lower end two handful 365
It had devour'd, 'twas so manful;
And so much scorn'd to lurk in case,
As if it durst not shew its face.
In many desperate attempts,
Of warrants, exigents, contempts, 370
It had appear'd with courage bolder
Than Serjeant BUM invading shoulder.
Oft had it ta'en possession,
And pris'ners too, or made them run.

This sword a dagger had t' his page, 375
That was but little for his age;
And therefore waited on him so,
As dwarfs upon Knights Errant do.
It was a serviceable dudgeon,
Either for fighting or for drudging. 380
When it had stabb'd, or broke a head,
It would scrape trenchers, or chip bread;
Toast cheese or bacon; tho' it were
To bait a mouse-trap, 'twould not care.
'Twould make clean shoes; and in the earth 385
Set leeks and onions, and so forth.
It had been 'prentice to a brewer,
Where this and more it did endure;
But left the trade, <c> as many more
Have lately done on the same score. 390

In th' holsters, at his saddle-bow,
Two aged pistols he did stow,
Among the surplus of such meat
As in his hose he cou'd not get.
These wou'd inveigle rats with th' scent, 395
To forage when the cocks were bent;
And sometimes catch 'em with a snap
As cleverly as th' ablest trap.
They were upon hard duty still,
And ev'ry night stood centinel, 400
To guard the magazine i' th' hose
From two-legg'd and from four-legg'd foes.

Thus clad and fortify'd, Sir Knight
From peaceful home set forth to fight.
But first with nimble, active force 405
He got on th' outside of his horse;
For having but one stirrup ty'd
T' his saddle, on the further side,
It was so short, h' had much ado
To reach it with his desp'rate toe: 410
But, after many strains and heaves,
He got up to the saddle-eaves,
From whence he vaulted into th' seat,
With so much vigour, strength and heat,
That he had almost tumbled over 415
With his own weight, but did recover,
By laying hold on tail and main,
Which oft he us'd instead of rein.

But now we talk of mounting steed,
Before we further do proceed, 420
It doth behoves us to say something
Of that which bore our valiant bumkin.
The beast was sturdy, large, and tall,
With mouth of meal, and eyes of wall.
I wou'd say eye; for h' had but one, 425
As most agree; tho' some say none.
He was well stay'd; and in his gait
Preserv'd a grave, majestick state.
At spur or switch no more he skipt,
Or mended pace, than Spaniard whipt; 430
And yet so fiery, he wou'd bound
As if he griev'd to touch the ground:
That CAESAR's horse <d>, who, as fame goes
Had corns upon his feet and toes,
Was not by half so tender hooft, 435
Nor trod upon the ground so soft.
And as that beast would kneel and stoop
(Some write) to take his rider up,
So HUDIBRAS his ('tis well known)
Wou'd often do to set him down. 440
We shall not need to say what lack
Of leather was upon his back;
For that was hidden under pad,
And breech of Knight, gall'd full as bad.
His strutting ribs on both sides show'd 445
Like furrows he himself had plow'd;
For underneath the skirt of pannel,
'Twixt ev'ry two there was a channel
His draggling tail hung in the dirt,
Which on his rider he wou'd flurt, 450
Still as his tender side he prick'd,
With arm'd heel, or with unarm'd kick'd:
For HUDIBRAS wore but one spur;
As wisely knowing, cou'd he stir
To active trot one side of's horse, 455
The other wou'd not hang an arse.

A squire he had, whose name was RALPH,
That in th' adventure went his half:
Though writers, for more stately tone,
Do call him RALPHO; 'tis all one; 460
And when we can with metre safe,
We'll call him so; if not, plain RALPH:
(For rhyme the rudder is of verses,
With which like ships they steer their courses.)
An equal stock of wit and valour 465
He had laid in; by birth a taylor.
The mighty Tyrian Queen, <e> that gain'd
With subtle shreds a tract of land,
Did leave it with a castle fair
To his great ancestor, her heir. 470
From him descended cross-legg'd Knights,
Fam'd for their faith, and warlike fights
Against the bloody cannibal,
Whom they destroy'd both great and small.
This sturdy Squire, he had, as well 475
As the <f> bold Trojan Knight, seen Hell;
Not with a counterfeited pass
Of golden bough, but true gold-lace.
His knowledge was not far behind
The Knight's, but of another kind, 480
And he another way came by 't:
Some call it GIFTS, and some NEW-LIGHT;
A liberal art, that costs no pains
Of study, industry, or brains.
His wit was sent him for a token, 485
But in the carriage crack'd and broken.
Like commendation nine-pence crook'd,
With — To and from my love — it look'd.
He ne'er consider'd it, as loth
To look a gift-horse in the mouth; 490
And very wisely wou'd lay forth
No more upon it than 'twas worth.
But as he got it freely, so
He spent it frank and freely too.
For Saints themselves will sometimes be 495
Of gifts, that cost them nothing, free.
By means of this, with hem and cough,
Prolongers to enlighten'd stuff,
He cou'd deep mysteries unriddle
As easily as thread a needle. 500
For as of vagabonds we say,
That they are ne'er beside their way;
Whate'er men speak by this New Light,
Still they are sure to be i' th' right.
'Tis a dark-lanthorn of the Spirit, 505
Which none see by but those that bear it:
A light that falls down from on high,
For spiritual trades to cozen by
An Ignis Fatuus, that bewitches
And leads men into pools and ditches, 510
To make them dip themselves, and sound
For Christendom in dirty pond
To dive like wild-fowl for salvation,
And fish to catch regeneration.
This light inspires and plays upon 515
The nose of Saint like bag-pipe drone,
And speaks through hollow empty soul,
As through a trunk, or whisp'ring hole,
Such language as no mortal ear
But spirit'al eaves-droppers can hear: 520
So PHOEBUS, or some friendly muse,
Into small poets song infuse,
Which they at second-hand rehearse,
Thro' reed or bag-pipe, verse for verse.

Thus RALPH became infallible 525
As <g> three or four-legg'd oracle,
The ancient cup, or modern chair;
Spoke truth point-blank, tho' unaware.

For MYSTICK LEARNING, wond'rous able
In <h> magick Talisman and Cabal, 530
Whose primitive tradition reaches
As far as ADAM'S first green breeches:
Deep-sighted in intelligences,
Ideas, atoms, influences;
And much of Terra Incognita, <> 535
Th' intelligible world, cou'd say:
A deep OCCULT PHILOSOPHER,
As learn'd <k> as the wild Irish are,
Or Sir AGRIPPA <l>; for profound
And solid lying much renown'd. 540
He <m> ANTHROPOSOPHUS, and FLOUD,
And JACOB BEHMEN understood:
Knew many an amulet and charm,
That wou'd do neither good nor harm:
In ROSY-CRUCIAN <n> lore as learned, 545
As he that Vere adeptus earned.
He understood the speech of birds
As well as they themselves do words;
Cou'd tell what subtlest parrots mean,
That speak, and think contrary clean: 550
What Member 'tis of whom they talk,
When they cry, Rope, and walk, knave, walk.
He'd extract numbers out of matter,
And keep them in a glass, like water;
Of sov'reign pow'r to make men wise; 555
For drop'd in blear thick-sighted eyes,
They'd make them see in darkest night
Like owls, tho' purblind in the light.
By help of these (as he profess'd)
He had First Matter seen undress'd: 560
He took her naked all alone,
Before one rag of form was on.
The Chaos too he had descry'd,
And seen quite thro', or else he ly'd:
Not that of paste-board which men shew 565
For groats, at fair of Barthol'mew;
But its great grandsire, first o' the name,
Whence that and REFORMATION came;
Both cousin-germans, and right able
T' inveigle and draw in the rabble. 570
But Reformation was, some say,
O' th' younger house to Puppet-play.
He cou'd foretel whats'ever was
By consequence to come to pass;
As death of great men, alterations, 575
Diseases, battles, inundations.
All this, without th' eclipse o' th' sun,
Or dreadful comet, he hath done,
By inward light; away as good,
And easy to be understood; 580
But with more lucky hit than those
That use to make the stars depose,
Like Knights o' th' post, and falsely charge
Upon themselves what others forge:
As if they were consenting to 585
All mischiefs in the world men do:
Or, like the Devil, did tempt and sway 'em
To rogueries, and then betray 'em.
They'll search a planet's house, to know
Who broke and robb'd a house below: 590
Examine VENUS, and the MOON,
Who stole a thimble or a spoon;
And tho' they nothing will confess,
Yet by their very looks can guess,
And tell what guilty aspect bodes, 595
Who stole, and who receiv'd the goods.
They'll question MARS, and, by his look,
Detect who 'twas that nimm'd a cloke:
Make MERCURY confess, and 'peach
Those thieves which he himself did teach. 600
They'll find, i' th' physiognomies
O' th' planets, all men's destinies.;
Like him that took the doctor's bill,
And swallow'd it instead o' th' pill
Cast the nativity o' th' question, 605
And from positions to be guess'd on,
As sure as it' they knew the moment
Of natives birth, tell what will come on't.
They'll feel the pulses of the stars,
To find out agues, coughs, catarrhs; 610
And tell what crisis does divine
The rot in sheep, or mange in swine
In men, what gives or cures the itch;
What makes them cuckolds, poor or rich;
What gains or loses, hangs or saves; 615
What makes men great, what fools or knaves,
But not what wise; for only of those
The stars (they say) cannot dispose,
No more than can the Astrologians.
There they say right, and like true Trojans.
This RALPHO knew, and therefore took 620
The other course, of which we spoke.

Thus was the accomplish'd Squire endu'd
With gifts and knowledge, per'lous shrew'd.
Never did trusty Squire with Knight,
Or Knight with Squire, e'er jump more right. 625
Their arms and equipage did fit,
As well as virtues, parts, and wit.
Their valours too were of a rate;
And out they sally'd at the gate. 630
Few miles on horseback had they jogged,
But Fortune unto them turn'd dogged;
For they a sad adventure met,
Of which anon we mean to treat;
But ere we venture to unfold 635
Atchievements so resolv'd and bold,
We shou'd as learned poets use,
Invoke th' assistance of some muse:
However, criticks count it sillier
Than jugglers talking to familiar. 640
We think 'tis no great matter which
They're all alike; yet we shall pitch
On one that fits our purpose most
Whom therefore thus do we accost:

Thou that with ale, or viler liquors, 645
Did'st inspire WITHERS, PRYN <o>, and VICKARS,
And force them, tho' it was in spite
Of nature and their stars, to write;
Who, as we find in sullen writs,
And cross-grain'd works of modern wits, 650
With vanity, opinion, want,
The wonder of the ignorant,
The praises of the author, penn'd
B' himself, or wit-insuring friend;
The itch of picture in the front, 655
With bays and wicked rhyme upon't;
All that is left o' th' forked hill,
To make men scribble without skill;
Canst make a poet spite of fate,
And teach all people to translate, 660
Tho' out of languages in which
They understand no part of speech;
Assist me but this once, I 'mplore,
And I shall trouble thee no more.

In western clime there is a town, 665
To those that dwell therein well known;
Therefore there needs no more be said here,
We unto them refer our reader;
For brevity is very good,
When w' are, or are not, understood. 670
To this town people did repair,
On days of market, or of fair,
And, to crack'd fiddle, and hoarse tabor,
In merriment did drudge and labor.
But now a sport more formidable 675
Had rak'd together village rabble:
'Twas an old way of recreating,
Which learned butchers call bear-baiting:
A bold advent'rous exercise,
With ancient heroes in high prize: 680
For authors do affirm it came
From Isthmian or Nemean game:
Others derive it from the bear
That's fix'd in northern hemisphere,
And round about the pole does make 685
A circle like a bear at stake,
That at the chain's end wheels about,
And overturns the rabble-rout.
For after solemn proclamation,
In the bear's name, (as is the fashion, 690
According to the law of arms,
To keep men from inglorious harms,)
That none presume to come so near
As forty foot of stake of bear,
If any yet be so fool-hardy, 695
T' expose themselves to vain jeopardy,
If they come wounded off, and lame,
No honour's got by such a maim;
Altho' the bear gain much, b'ing bound
In honour to make good his ground, 700
When he's engag'd, and takes no notice,
If any press upon him, who 'tis;
But let's them know, at their own cost,
That he intends to keep his post.
This to prevent, and other harms, 705
Which always wait on feats of arms,
(For in the hurry of a fray
'Tis hard to keep out of harm's way,)
Thither the Knight his course did steer,
To keep the peace 'twixt dog and bear; 710
As he believ'd he was bound to do
In conscience, and commission too;
And therefore thus bespoke the Squire.

We that are wisely mounted higher
Than constables in curule wit,
When on tribunal bench we sit,
Like speculators shou'd foresee,
From Pharos of authority,
Portended mischiefs farther then
Low Proletarian tything-men: 720
And therefore being inform'd by bruit,
That dog and bear are to dispute;
For so of late men fighting name,
Because they often prove the same;
(For where the first does hap to be, 725
The last does coincidere;)
Quantum in nobis, have thought good,
To save th' expence of Christian blood,
And try if we, by mediation
Of treaty and accommodation, 730
Can end the quarrel and compose
The bloody duel without blows.
Are not our liberties, our lives,
The laws, religion and our wives,
Enough at once to lie at stake 735
For Cov'nant and the Cause's sake?
But in that quarrel dogs and bears,
As well as we must venture theirs
This feud, by Jesuits invented,
By evil counsel is fomented: 740
There is a MACHIAVILIAN plot,
(Tho' ev'ry Nare olfact is not,)
A deep design in't, to divide
The well-affected that confide,
By setting brother against brother, 745
To claw and curry one another.
Have we not enemies plus satis,
That Cane & Angue pejus hate us?
And shall we turn our fangs and claws
Upon our own selves, without cause? 750
That some occult design doth lie
In bloody <q> cynarctomachy,
Is plain enough to him that knows
How Saints lead brothers by the nose.
I wish myself a pseudo-prophet, 755
But sure some mischief will come of it;
Unless by providential wit,
Or force, we <r> averruncate it.
For what design, what interest,
Can beast have to encounter beast? 760
They fight for no espoused cause,
Frail privilege, fundamental laws,
Not for a thorough reformation,
Nor covenant, nor protestation,
Nor liberty of consciences, 765
Nor Lords and Commons ordinances;
Nor for the church, nor for church-lands,
To get them in their own no hands;
Nor evil counsellors to bring
To justice that seduce the King; 770
Nor for the worship of us men,
Though we have done as much for them.
Th' AEgyptians worshipp'd dogs, and for
Their faith made internecine war.
Others ador'd a rat, and some 775
For that church suffer'd martyrdom.
The <s> Indians fought for the truth
Of th' elephant and monkey's tooth,
And many, to defend that faith,
Fought it out mordicus to death. 780
But no beast ever was so slight,
For man, as for his God, to fight.
They have more wit, alas! and know
Themselves and us better than so.
But we, who only do infuse 785
The rage in them like <t> Boute-feus;
'Tis our example that instils
In them th' infection of our ills.
For, as some late philosophers.
Have well observ'd, beasts, that converse 790
With man, take after him, as hogs
Get pigs all the year, and bitches dogs.
Just so, by our example, cattle
Learn to give one another battle.
We read, in NERO's time, the heathen, 795
When they destroy'd the Christian brethren,
Did sew them in the skins of bears,
And then set dogs about their ears:
From thence, no doubt, th' invention came
Of this lewd antichristian game. 800

To this, quoth RALPHO, Verily
The point seems very plain to me.
It is an antichristian game,
Unlawful both in thing and name.
First, for the name: the word, bear-baiting 805
Is carnal, and of man's creating:
For certainly there's no such word
In all the scripture on record;
Therefore unlawful, and a sin;
And so is (secondly) the thing. 810
A vile assembly 'tis, that can
No more be prov'd by scripture than
Provincial, classic, national;
Mere human-creature cobwebs all.
Thirdly, it is idolatrous; 815
For when men run a whoring thus
With their inventions, whatsoe'er
The thing be, whether dog or bear,
It is idolatrous and pagan,
No less than worshipping of DAGON. 820

Quoth HUDIBRAS, I smell a rat;
RALPHO, thou dost prevaricate:
For though the thesis which thou lay'st
Be true ad amussim, as thou say'st;
(For that bear-baiting should appear 825
Jure divino lawfuller
Than synods are, thou dost deny,
Totidem verbis; so do I;)
Yet there's a fallacy in this;
For if by sly HOMAEOSIS, 830
Tussis pro crepitu, an art
Under a cough to slur a f—t
Thou wou'dst sophistically imply,
Both are unlawful, I deny.

And I (quoth RALPHO) do not doubt 835
But bear-baiting may be made out,
In gospel-times, as lawful as is
Provincial or parochial classis;
And that both are so near of kin,
And like in all, as well as sin, 840
That put them in a bag, and shake 'em,
Yourself o' th' sudden would mistake 'em,
And not know which is which, unless
You measure by their wickedness:
For 'tis not hard t'imagine whether 845
O' th' two is worst; tho' I name neither.

Quoth HUDIBRAS, Thou offer'st much,
But art not able to keep touch.
Mira de lente, as 'tis i' th' adage,
Id est, to make a leek a cabbage; 850
Thou'lt be at best but such a bull,
Or shear-swine, all cry, and no wool;
For what can synods have at all
With bear that's analogical?
Or what relation has debating 855
Of church-affairs with bear-baiting?
A just comparison still is
Of things ejusdem generis;
And then what genus rightly doth
Include and comprehend them both? 860
If animal both of us may
As justly pass for bears as they;
For we are animals no less,
Altho' of different specieses.
But, RALPHO, this is not fit place 865
Nor time to argue out the case:
For now the field is not far off,
Where we must give the world a proof
Of deeds, not words, and such as suit
Another manner of dispute; 870
A controversy that affords
Actions for arguments, not words;
Which we must manage at a rate
Of prowess and conduct adequate
To what our place and fame doth promise, 875
And all the godly expect from us,
Nor shall they be deceiv'd, unless
We're slurr'd and outed by success;
Success, the mark no mortal wit,
Or surest hand can always hit: 880
For whatsoe'er we perpetrate,
We do but row, we're steer'd by Fate,
Which in success oft disinherits,
For spurious causes, noblest merits.
Great actions are not always true sons 885
Of great and mighty resolutions;
Nor do th' boldest attempts bring forth
Events still equal to their worth;
But sometimes fail, and, in their stead,
Fortune and cowardice succeed. 890
Yet we have no great cause to doubt;
Our actions still have borne us out;
Which tho' they're known to be so ample,
We need not copy from example.
We're not the only persons durst 895
Attempt this province, nor the first.
In northern clime a val'rous Knight
Did whilom kill his bear in fght,
And wound a fiddler; we have both
Of these the objects of our wroth, 900
And equal fame and glory from
Th' attempt of victory to come.
'Tis sung, there is a valiant Mamaluke
In foreign land, yclep'd —
To whom we have been oft compar'd 905
For person, parts; address, and beard;
Both equally reputed stout,
And in the same cause both have fought:
He oft in such attempts as these
Came off with glory and success; 910
Nor will we fail in th' execution,
For want of equal resolution.
Honour is like a <w> widow, won
With brisk attempt and putting on;
With ent'ring manfully, and urging; 915
Not slow approaches, like a virgin.

'Tis said, as yerst the Phrygian Knight,
So ours with rusty steel did smite
His Trojan horse, and just as much
He mended pace upon the touch; 920
But from his empty stomach groan'd
Just as that hollow beast did sound,
And angry answer'd from behind,
With brandish'd tail and blast of wind.
So have I seen, with armed heel, 925
A wight bestride a Common-weal;
While still the more he kick'd and spurr'd,
The less the sullen jade has stirr'd.

Notes to Part I, Canto I.

1. When civil a dudgeon, &c.] Dudgeon. Who made the alterations in the last Edition of this poem I know not, but they are certainly sometimes for the worse; and I cannot believe the Author would have changed a word so proper in that place as dudgeon for that of fury, as it is in the last Edition. To take in dudgeon, is inwardly to resent some injury or affront; a sort of grumbling in the gizzard, and what is previous to actual fury.

24 b That could as well, &c.] Bind over to the Sessions as being a Justice of the Peace in his County, as well as Colonel of a Regiment of Foot in the Parliament's army, and a committee-Man.

38 c As MONTAIGNE, &c.] Montaigne, in his Essays, supposes his cat thought him a fool, for losing his time in playing with her.

62 d To make some, &c.] Here again is an alteration without any amendment; for the following lines,

And truly, so he was, perhaps,
Not as a Proselyte, but for Claps,

Are thus changed,

And truly so, perhaps, he was;
'Tis many a pious Christian's case.

The Heathens had an odd opinion, and have a strange reason why Moses imposed the law of circumcision on the Jews, which, how untrue soever, I will give the learned reader an account of without translation, as I find it in the annotations upon Horace, wrote by my worthy and learned friend Mr. William Baxter, the great restorer of the ancient and promoter of modern learning. Hor. Sat. 9. Sermon. Lib. I. — Curtis; quia pellicula imminuti sunt; quia Moses Rex Judoeorum, cujus Legibus reguntur, negligentia PHIMOZEIS medicinaliter exsectus est, & ne soles esset notabi omnes circumcidi voluit. Vet. Schol. Vocem. — (PHIMOZEIS qua inscitia Librarii exciderat reposuimus ex conjectura, uti & medicinaliter exsectus pro medicinalis effectus quae nihil erant.) Quis miretur ejusmodi convicia homini Epicureo atque Pagano excidisse? Jure igitur Henrico Glareano Diaboli Organum videtur. Etiam Satyra Quinta haec habet: Constat omnia miracula certa ratione fieri, de quibus Epicurei prudentissime disputant. [Circumcised: Moses the King of the Jews, by whose laws they are ruled, and whose foreskin overhung (the tip of his penis), had this blockage carelessly medicinally removed, and not wishing to be alone wanted them all to be circumcised. (We have tentatively restored the word BLOCKAGE, which the scribe's incompetence has omitted, and substituted medically removed for carried out by a doctor which was never there.) Who shall wonder that this kind of cutting caused an outcry by Epicureans and Pagans? It can be seen therefore, why Henricus Glareanus judged it an implement of the devil. So the Fifth Satire has it: It is certain that every miracle can be fitted into the philosophical systems which the Epicureans most carefully discuss.]

66 e Profoundly skill'd, &c.] Analytick is a part of logic, that teaches to decline and construe reason, as grammar does words.

93 f A Babylonish, &c.] A confusion of languages, such as some of our modern Virtuosi used to express themselves in.

103 g Or CERBERUS himself, &c.] Cerberus; a name which poets give a dog with three heads, which they feigned door- keeper of Hell, that caressed the unfortunate souls sent thither, and devoured them that would get out again; yet Hercules tied him up, and made him follow. This dog with three heads denotes the past, the present, and the time to come; which receive, and, as it were, devour all things. Hercules got the better of him, which shews that heroic actions are always victorious over time, because they are present in the memory of posterity.

115 h That had the, &c.] Demosthenes, who is said to have had a defect in his pronunciation, which he cured by using to speak with little stones in his mouth.

120 i Than TYCHO BRAHE, &c.] Tycho Brahe was an eminent Danish mathematician. Quer. in Collier's Dictionary, or elsewhere.

131 k Whatever Sceptick, &c.] Sceptick. Pyrrho was the chief of the Sceptick Philosophers, and was at first, as Apollodorus saith, a painter, then became the hearer of Driso, and at last the disciple of Anaxagoras, whom he followed into India, to see the Gymnosophists. He pretended that men did nothing but by custom; there was neither honesty nor dishonesty, justice nor injustice, good nor evil. He was very solitary, lived to be ninety years old, was highly esteemed in his country, and created chief priest. He lived in the time of Epicurus and Theophrastus, about the 120th Olympiad. His followers were called Phyrrhonians; besides which they were named the Ephecticks and Aphoreticks, but more generally Scepticks. This sect made their chiefest good to consist in a sedateness of mind, exempt from all passions; in regulating their opinions, and moderating their passions, which they called Ataxia and Metriopathia; and in suspending their judgment in regard of good and evil, truth or falsehood, which they called Epechi. Sextus Empiricus, who lived in the second century, under the Emperor Antoninus Pius, writ ten books against the mathematicians or astrologers, and three of the Phyrrhonian opinion. The word is derived from the Greek SKEPTESZAI, quod est, considerare, speculare. [To consider or speculate]

143 l He cou'd reduce, &c.] The old philosophers thought to extract notions out of natural things, as chymists do spirits and essences; and, when they had refined them into the nicest subtilties, gave them as insignificant names as those operators do their extractions: But (as Seneca says) the subtiler things are they are but the nearer to nothing. So are all their definitions of things by acts the nearer to nonsense.

147 m Where Truth, &c.] Some authors have mistaken truth for a real thing, when it is nothing but a right method of putting those notions or images of things (in the understanding of man) into the same and order that their originals hold in nature, and therefore Aristotle says Unumquodque sicut habet secundum esse, ita se habet secundum veritatem. Met. L. ii. [As every thing has a secondary essence, therefore it has a secondary truth]

148 n Like words congeal'd, &c.] Some report in Nova Zembla, and Greenland, mens' words are wont to be frozen in the air, and at the thaw may heard.

151 In School-Divinity as able,
As o he that Hight, Irrefragable, &c.]
Here again is another alteration of three or lines, as I think, for
the worse.
Some specific epithets were added to the title of some famous
doctors, as Angelicus, Irrefragabilis, Subtilis, [Angelic,
Unopposable, Discriminating] &c. Vide Vossi Etymolog.
Baillet Jugemens de Scavans, & Possevin's Apparatus

153 p A Second THOMAS or at once, To name them all, another DUNCE. Thomas Aquinas, a Dominican friar, was born in 1224, and studied at Cologne and Paris. He new modelled the school- divinity, and was therefore called the Angelic Doctor, and Eagle of Divines. The most illustrious persons of his time were ambitious of his friendship, and put a high value on his merits, so that they offered him bishopricks, which he refused with as much ardor as others seek after them. He died in the fiftieth year of his age, and was canonized by Pope John XII. We have his works in eighteen volumes, several times printed.

Johannes Dunscotus was a very learned man, who lived about the end of the thirteenth and beginning of the fourteenth century. The English and Scotch strive which of them shall have the honour of his birth. The English say, he was born in Northumberland: the Scots alledge he was born at Duns, in the Mers, the neighbouring county to Northumberland, and hence was called Dunscotus. Moreri, Buchanan, and other Scotch historians, are of this opinion, and for proof cite his epitaph:

Scotia me genuit, Anglia suscepit,
Gallia edocuit, Germania tenet.
[Scotland bore me, England reared me,
France instructed me, Germany kept me.]

He died at Cologne, Novem. 8. 1308. In the Supplement to Dr. Cave's Historia Literaria, he is said to be extraordinary learned in physicks, metaphysicks, mathematicks, and astronomy; that his fame was so great when at Oxford, that 30,000 scholars came thither to hear his lectures: that when at Paris, his arguments and authority carried it for the immaculate conception of the Blessed Virgin; so that they appointed a festival on that account, and would admit us scholars to degrees but such as were of this mind. He was a great opposer of Thomas Aquinas's doctrine; and, for being a very acute logician, was called Doctor Subtilis; [Discriminating (or, literally, Slender) Teacher] which was the reason also, that an old punster always called him the Lathy Doctor.

158 q As tough as, &c.] Sorbon was the first and most considerable college of the university of Paris, founded in time reign of St. Lewis, by Robert Sorbon, which name is sometimes given to the whole University of Paris, which was founded, about the year 741, by Charlemagne, at the persuasion of the learned Alcuinus, who was one of the first professors there; since which time it has been very famous. This college has been rebuilt with an extraordinary magnificence, at the charge of Cardinal Richlieu, and contains lodgings for thirty-six doctors, who are called the Society of Sorbon. Those which are received among them before they have received their doctor's degree are only said to be of the Hospitality of Sorbon. Claud. Hemeraus de Acad. Paris. Spondan in Annal.

173 r he knew, &c.] There is nothing more ridiculous than the various opinions of authors about the seat of Paradise. Sir. Walter Raleigh has taken a great deal of pains to collect them, in the beginning of his History of the World; where those, who are unsatisfied, may be fully informed.

180 s By a High-Dutch, &c.] Goropius Becanus endeavours to prove that High-Dutch was the language that Adam and Eve spoke in Paradise.

181 t If either of &c.] Adam and Eve being made, and not conceived and formed in the womb had no navels as some learned men have supposed, because they had no need of them.

182 u Who first made, &c.] Musick is said to be invented by Pythagoras, who first found out the proportion of notes from the sounds of hammers upon an anvil

232 w Like MAHOMET's &c.) Mahomet had a tame dove, that used to pick seeds out of his ear that it might be thought to whisper and inspire him. His ass was so intimate with him, that the Mahometans believed it carried him to heaven, and stays there with him to bring him back again.

257 x It was Monastick, and did grow In holy Orders by strict Vow. He made a vow never to cut his beard until the Parliament had subdued the King; of which order of phanatick votaries there were many in those times.

281 y So learned TALIACOTIUS &c.] Taliacotius was an Italian surgeon, that found out a way to repair lost and decayed noses. This Taliacotius was chief surgeon to the Great Duke of Tuscany, and wrote a treatise, De Curtis Membris, [Of Cut-off Parts] which he dedicates to his great master wherein he not only declares the models of his wonderful operations in restoring of lost members, but gives you cuts of the very instruments and ligatures he made use of therein; from hence our Author (cum poetica licentia [with poetic licence]) has taken his simile.

289 z For as AENEAS, &c.] AEneas was the son of Anchises and Venus; a Trojan, who, after long travels, came to Italy, and after the death of his father-in-law, Latinus, was made king of Latium, and reigned three years. His story is too long to insert here, and therefore I refer you to Virgil's AEneids. Troy being laid in ashes, he took his aged father Anchises upon his back, and rescued him from his enemies. But being too solicitous for his son and household gods, he lost his wife Creusa; which Mr. Dryden, in his excellent translation, thus expresseth.

Haste my dear father (tis no time to wait,)
And load my shoulders with a willing freight.
Whate'er befals, your life shall be my care;
One death, or one deliv'rance, we will share.
My hand shall lead our little son; and you,
My faithful consort, shall our steps pursue.

337 a — For ARTHUR, &c.] Who this Arthur was and whether any ever reigned in Britain, has been doubted heretofore, and is by some to this very day. However, the history of him, which makes him one of the nine worthies of the world, is a subject, sufficient for the Poet to be pleasant upon.

359 b — Toledo trusty, &c.] The capital city of New Castile, Spain, with an archbishopric and primacy. It was very famous, amongst other things, for tempering the best metal for swords, as Damascus was and perhaps may be still.

389 c But left the trade, as many more Have lately done, &c. Oliver Cromwell and Colonel Pride had been both brewers.

433 d That CAESAR's Horse, who, as Fame goes, Had corns upon his Feet and Toes. Julius Caesar had a horse with feet like a man's. Utebatur equo insigni; pedibus prope humanis, modum digitorum ungulis fissis. [He rode a horse with this distinction; it had feet like a man's, having the hooves split like toes] Suet. in Jul. Cap. 61.

467 c The mighty Tyrian Queen, that gain'd With subtle Shreds a Tract of Land. Dido, Queen of Carthage, who bought as much land as she could compass with an ox's hide, which she cut into small thongs, and cheated the owner of so much ground as served her to build Carthage upon.

476 f As the bold, &c.] AEneas, whom Virgil reports to use a golden bough for a pass to hell; and taylors call that place Hell where they put all they steal.

526 g As three, &c.] Read the great Geographical Dictionary, under that word.

520 h In Magick, &c.] Talisman is a device to destroy any sort of vermin, by casting their images in metal, in a precise minute, when the stars are perfectly inclined to do them all the mischief they can. This has been experienced by some modern Virtuosi upon rats, mice, and fleas, and found (as they affirm) to produce the effect with admirable success.

Raymund Lully interprets cabal, out of the Arabic, to signify
Scientia superabundans; which his commentator, Cornelius
Agrippa, by over-magnifying, has rendered a very superfluous
foppery.

532 i As far as, &c.] The author of Magia Adamica endeavours to prove the learning of the ancient Magi to be derived from that knowledge which God himself taught Adam in Paradise before the fall.

535 And much of Terra Incognita, The intelligible World cou'd say. The intelligible world is a kind of Terra Del Fuego, or Psittacorum Regio[Land of Parrots], &c. discovered only by the philosophers; of which they talk, like parrots, what they do not understand.

538 k learned &c.] No nation in the world is more addicted to this occult philosophy than the Wild-Irish are, as appears by the whole practice of their lives; of which see Camden in his description of Ireland.

539 l Or Sir AGRIPPA, &c.] They who would know more of Sir Cornelius Agrippa, here meant, may consult the Great Dictionary.

541 m He ANTHROPOSOPHUS and FLOUD, And JACOB BEHMEN understood. Anthroposophus is only a compound Greek word, which signifies a man that is wise in the knowledge of men, as is used by some anonymous author to conceal his true name. Dr. Floud was a sort of an English Rosy-crucian, whose works are extant, and as intelligible as those of Jacob Behmen.

545 n In ROSY-CRUCIAN Lore as learned As he that Vere Adeptus earned. The fraternity of the Rosy-crucians is very like the sect of the ancient Gnostici, who called them selves so from the excellent learning they pretended to, although they were really the most ridiculous sots of mankind. Vere Adeptus is one that has commenced in their phanatick extravagance.

646 o Thou that with Ale or viler Liquors, Didst inspire WITHERS, PRYN, and VICARS. This Vicars was a man of as great interest and authority in the late Reformation as Pryn or Withers, and as able a poet. He translated Virgil's AEneids into as horrible Travesty, in earnest, as the French Scaroon did in burlesque, and was only outdone in his way by the politic author of Oceana.

714 p We that are, &c.] This speech is set down as it was delivered by the Knight, in his own words: But since it is below the gravity of heroical poetry to admit of humour, but all men are obliged to speak wisely alike, and too much of so extravagant a folly would become tedious and impertinent, the rest of his harangues have only his sense expressed in other words, unless in some few places, where his own words could not be so well avoided.

753 q In bloody, &c.] Cynarctomachy signifies no thing in the world but a fight between dogs and bears; though both the learned and ignorant agree that in such words very great knowledge is contained: And our Knight, as one, or both, of these, was of the same opinion.

758 r Or Force, &c.] Averruncate: Another of the same kind, which, though it appear ever so learned and profound, means nothing else but the weeding of corn.

777 s The Indians fought for the Truth Of th' Elephant and Monkey's Tooth. The History of the White Elephant and the Monkey's-Tooth, which the Indians adored, is written by Mons. le Blanc. This monkey's tooth was taken by the Portuguese from those that worshipped it; and though they offered a vast ransom for it, yet the Christians were persuaded by their priests rather to burn it. But as soon as the fire was kindled, all the people present were not able to endure the horrible stink that came from it, as if the fire had been made of the same ingredients with which seamen use to compose that kind of granados which they call stinkards.

786 t The Rage, &c.] Boute-feus is a French word, and therefore it were uncivil to suppose any English person (especially of quality) ignorant of it, or so ill-bred as to need an exposition.

903 u 'Tis sung, &c.] Mamaluke is the name of the militia of the Sultans of Egypt. It signified a servant or soldier. They were commonly captives taken from amongst the Christians, and instructed in military discipline, and did not marry. Their power was great; for besides that the Sultans were chosen out of their body, they disposed of the most important offices of the kingdom. They were formidable about 200 years; 'till at last Selim, Sultan of the Turks, routed them, and killed their Sultan, near Aleppo, 1516, and so put an end to the empire of Mamalukes, which had lasted 267 years. No question but the rhime to Mamaluke was meant Sir Samuel Luke, of whom in the Preface.

913 w Honour is like, &c.] Our English proverbs are not impertinent to this purpose:

He that woos a Maid, must seldom come in her sight:
But he that woos a Widow, must woo her Day and Night.
He that woos a Maid, must feign, lye, and flatter:
But he that woos a Widow, must down with his Breeches, and at her.

This proverb being somewhat immodest, Mr Ray says he would not have inserted it in his collection, but that he met with it in a little book, intitled, the Quakers' Spiritual Court Proclaimed; written by Nathaniel Smith, Student in Physic; wherein the author mentions it as counsel given him by Hilkiah Bedford, an eminent Quaker in London, who would have had him to have married a rich widow, in whose house he lodged. In case he could get her, this Nathaniel Smith had promised Hilkiah a chamber gratis. The whole narrative is worth the reading.

PART I.

CANTO II.

THE ARGUMENT.

————————————————————————-
The catalogue and character
Of th' enemies best men of war;
Whom, in bold harangue, the Knight
Defies, and challenges to fight.
H' encounters Talgol, routs the Bear,
And takes the Fiddler prisoner,
Conveys him to enchanted castle;
There shuts him fast in wooden bastile.
————————————————————————-

THERE was an ancient sage philosopher,
That had read ALEXANDER Ross over,
And swore the world, as he cou'd prove,
Was made of fighting and of love:
Just so romances are; for what else 5
Is in them all, but love and battels?
O' th' first of these we've no great matter
To treat of, but a world o' th' latter;
In which to do the injur'd right
We mean, in what concerns just fight. 10
Certes our authors are to blame,
For to make some well-sounding name
A pattern fit for modern Knights
To copy out in frays and fights;
Like those that a whole street do raze 15
To build a palace in the place.
They never care how many others
They kill, without regard of mothers,
Or wives, or children, so they can
Make up some fierce, dead-doing man, 20
Compos'd of many ingredient valors,
Just like the manhood of nine taylors.
So a Wild Tartar, when he spies
A man that's handsome, valiant, wise,
If he can kill him, thinks t' inherit 25
His wit, his beauty, and his spirit
As if just so much he enjoy'd
As in another is destroy'd
For when a giant's slain in fight,
And mow'd o'erthwart, or cleft down right, 30
It is a heavy case, no doubt;
A man should have his brains beat out
Because he's tall, and has large bones;
As men kill beavers for their stones.
But as for our part, we shall tell 35
The naked truth of what befel;
And as an equal friend to both
The Knight and Bear, but more to troth,
With neither faction shall take part,
But give to each his due desert; 40
And never coin a formal lie on't,
To make the Knight o'ercome the giant.
This b'ing profest, we've hopes enough,
And now go on where we left off.

They rode; but authors having not 45
Determin'd whether pace or trot,
(That is to say, whether <x> tollutation,
As they do term't, or succussation,)
We leave it, and go on, as now
Suppose they did, no matter how; 50
Yet some from subtle hints have got
Mysterious light, it was a trot:
But let that pass: they now begun
To spur their living-engines on.
For as whipp'd tops, and bandy'd balls, 55
The learned hold, are animals;
So horses they affirm to be
Mere engines made by geometry;
And were invented first from engines,
As <y> Indian Britons were from Penguins. 60
So let them be; and, as I was saying,
They their live engines ply'd, not staying
Until they reach'd the fatal champain,
Which th' enemy did then encamp on;
The <z> dire Pharsalian plain, where battle 65
Was to be wag'd 'twixt puissant cattle
And fierce auxiliary men,
That came to aid their brethren,
Who now began to take the field,
As Knight from ridge of steed beheld. 70
For as our modern wits behold,
Mounted a pick-back on the old,
Much further oft; much further he,
Rais'd on his aged beast cou'd see;
Yet not sufficient to descry 75
All postures of the enemy;
Wherefore he bids the Squire ride further,
T' observe their numbers, and their order;
That when their motions he had known
He might know how to fit his own. 80
Meanwhile he stopp'd his willing steed,
To fit himself for martial deed.
Both kinds of metal he prepar'd,
Either to give blows, or to ward:
Courage and steel, both of great force, 85
Prepar'd for better, or for worse.
His death-charg'd pistols he did fit well,
Drawn out from life-preserving vittle.
These being prim'd, with force he labour'd
To free's sword from retentive scabbard 90
And, after many a painful pluck,
From rusty durance he bail'd tuck.
Then shook himself, to see that prowess
In scabbard of his arms sat loose;
And, rais'd upon his desp'rate foot, 95
On stirrup-side he gaz'd about,
Portending blood, like blazing star,
The beacon of approaching war.
RALPHO rode on with no less speed
Than Hugo in the forest did; 100
But far more in returning made;
For now the foe he had survey'd,
Rang'd as to him they did appear,
With van, main battle, wings, and rear.
I' the head of all this warlike rabble, 105
CROWDERO march'd, expert and able.
Instead of trumpet and of drum,
That makes the warrior's stomach come,
Whose noise whets valour sharp, like beer
By thunder turn'd to vinegar, 110
(For if a trumpet sound, or drum beat,
Who has not a month's mind to combat?)
A squeaking engine he apply'd
Unto his neck, on north-east side,
Just where the hangman does dispose, 115
To special friends, the knot of noose:
For 'tis great grace, when statesmen straight
Dispatch a friend, let others wait.
His warped ear hung o'er the strings,
Which was but souse to chitterlings: 120
For guts, some write, e'er they are sodden,
Are fit for music, or for pudden;
From whence men borrow ev'ry kind
Of minstrelsy by string or wind.
His grisly beard was long and thick, 125
With which he strung his fiddle-stick;
For he to horse-tail scorn'd to owe,
For what on his own chin did grow.
Chiron, <a> the four-legg'd bard, had both
A beard and tail of his own growth; 130
And yet by authors 'tis averr'd,
He made use only of his beard.
In Staffordshire, where virtuous worth
Does raise the minstrelsy, not birth;
Where bulls do chuse the boldest king, 135
And ruler, o'er the men of string;
(As once in Persia, 'tis said,
Kings were proclaim'd by a horse that neigh'd;)
He bravely venturing at a crown,
By chance of war was beaten down, 140
And wounded sore. His leg then broke,
Had got a deputy of oak:
For when a shin in fight is cropp'd,
The knee with one of timber's propp'd,
Esteem'd more honourable than the other, 145
And takes place, though the younger brother.

Next march'd brave ORSIN, famous for
Wise conduct, and success in war:
A skilful leader, stout, severe,
Now marshal to the champion bear. 150
With truncheon, tipp'd with iron head,
The warrior to the lists he led;
With solemn march and stately pace,
But far more grave and solemn face;
Grave <c> as the Emperor of Pegu 155
Or Spanish potentate Don Diego.
This leader was of knowledge great,
Either for charge or for retreat.
He knew when to fall on pell-mell;
To fall back and retreat as well. 160
So lawyers, lest the bear defendant,
And plaintiff dog, should make an end on't,
Do stave and tail with writs of error,
Reverse of judgment, and demurrer,
To let them breathe a while, and then 165
Cry whoop, and set them on agen.
As ROMULUS a wolf did rear,
So he was dry-nurs'd by a bear,
That fed him with the purchas'd prey
Of many a fierce and bloody fray; 170
Bred up, where discipline most rare is,
In military Garden Paris. <>
For soldiers heretofore did grow
In gardens, just as weeds do now,
Until some splay-foot politicians 175
T'APOLLO offer'd up petitions
For licensing a new invention
They'd found out of an antique engine,
To root out all the weeds that grow
In public gardens at a blow, 180
And leave th' herbs standing. Quoth Sir Sun,
My friends, that is not to be done.
Not done! quoth Statesmen; yes, an't please ye,
When it's once known, you'll say 'tis easy.
Why then let's know it, quoth Apollo. 185
We'll beat a drum, and they'll all follow.
A drum! (quoth PHOEBUS;) troth, that's true;
A pretty invention, quaint and new.
But though of voice and instrument
We are the undoubted president, 190
We such loud music don't profess:
The Devil's master of that office,
Where it must pass, if't be a drum;
He'll sign it with Cler. Parl. Dom. Com.
To him apply yourselves, and he 195
Will soon dispatch you for his fee.
They did so; but it prov'd so ill,
Th' had better let 'em grow there still.
But to resume what we discoursing
Were on before, that is, stout ORSIN: 200
That which so oft, by sundry writers,
Has been applied t' almost all fighters,
More justly may b' ascrib'd to this
Than any other warrior, (viz.)
None ever acted both parts bolder, 205
Both of a chieftain and a soldier.
He was of great descent and high
For splendour and antiquity;
And from celestial origine
Deriv'd himself in a right line. 210
Not as the ancient heroes did,
Who, that their base-births might be hid,
(Knowing they were of doubtful gender,
And that they came in at a windore)
Made Jupiter himself and others 215
O' th' gods, gallants to their own mothers,
To get on them a race of champions,
(Of which old Homer first made Lampoons.)
ARCTOPHYLAX, in northern spheres
Was his undoubted ancestor: 220
From him his great forefathers came,
And in all ages bore his name.
Learned he was in med'c'nal lore;
For by his side a pouch he wore,
Replete with strange Hermetic powder, 225
That wounds nine miles point-blank wou'd solder;
By skilful chemist, with great cost,
Extracted from a rotten post;
But of a heav'nlier influence
Than that which mountebanks dispense; 230
Tho' by Promethean fire made, <>
As they do quack that drive that trade.
For as when slovens do amiss
At others doors, by stool or piss,
The learned write, a red-hot spit 235
B'ing prudently apply'd to it,
Will convey mischief from the dung
Unto the part that did the wrong,
So this did healing; and as sure
As that did mischief this would cure. 240

Thus virtuous ORSIN was endu'd
With learning, conduct, fortitude,
Incomparable: and as the prince
Of poets, HOMER sung long since
A skilful leech is better far 245
Than half an hundred men of war,
So he appear'd; and by his skill,
No less than dint of sword, cou'd kill

The gallant BRUIN march'd next him,
With visage formidably grim, 250
And rugged as a Saracen,
Or Turk of Mahomet's own kin;
Clad in a mantle della guerre
Of rough impenetrable fur;
And in his nose, like Indian King, 255
He wore, for ornament, a ring;
About his neck a threefold gorget.
As rough as trebled leathern target;
Armed, as heralds cant, and langued;
Or, as the vulgar say, sharp-fanged. 260
For as the teeth in beasts of prey
Are swords, with which they fight in fray;
So swords, in men of war, are teeth,
Which they do eat their vittle with.
He was by birth, some authors write, 265
A Russian; some, a Muscovite;
And 'mong the Cossacks had been bred; <>
Of whom we in diurnals read,
That serve to fill up pages here,
As with their bodies ditches there. 270
SCRIMANSKY was his cousin-german,
With whom he serv'd, and fed on vermin;
And when these fail'd, he'd suck his claws,
And quarter himself upon his paws.
And tho' his countrymen, the Huns,<> 275
Did stew their meat between their bums
And th' horses backs o'er which they straddle,
And ev'ry man eat up his saddle;
He was not half so nice as they,
But eat it raw when 't came in's way. 280
He had trac'd countries far and near,
More than LE BLANC, the traveller;
Who writes, he spous'd in India,
Of noble house, a lady gay,
And got on her a race of worthies, 285
As stout as any upon earth is.
Full many a fight for him between
TALGOL and ORSIN oft had been
Each striving to deserve the crown
Of a sav'd citizen; the one 290
To guard his bear; the other fought
To aid his dog; both made more stout
By sev'ral spurs of neighbourhood,
Church-fellow-membership, and blood
But TALGOL, mortal foe to cows, 295
Never got aught of him but blows;
Blows, hard and heavy, such as he
Had lent, repaid with usury.

Yet TALGOL was of courage stout,
And vanquish'd oft'ner than he fought: 300
Inur'd to labour, sweat and toil,
And like a champion shone with oil.
Right many a widow his keen blade,.
And many fatherless had made.
He many a boar and huge dun-cow 305
Did, like another Guy, o'erthrow;
But Guy with him in fight compar'd,
Had like the boar or dun-cow far'd
With greater troops of sheep h' had fought
Than AJAX or bold DON QUIXOTE: 310
And many a serpent of fell kind,
With wings before and stings behind,
Subdu'd: as poets say, long agone
Bold Sir GEORGE, St. GEORGE did the dragon.
Nor engine, nor device polemic, 31 5
Disease, nor doctor epidemic,
Tho' stor'd with deletory med'cines,
(Which whosoever took is dead since,)
E'er sent so vast a colony
To both the underworlds as he: 320
For he was of that noble trade
That demi-gods and heroes made,
Slaughter and knocking on the head;.
The trade to which they all were bred;
And is, like others, glorious when 325
'Tis great and large, but base if mean.
The former rides in triumph for it;
The latter in a two-wheel'd chariot
For daring to profane a thing
So sacred with vile bungling. 330

Next these the brave MAGNANO came;
MAGNANO, great in martial fame.
Yet when with ORSIN he wag'd fight,
'Tis sung, he got but little by't.
Yet he was fierce as forest boar, 335
Whose spoils upon his back he wore,
As thick as AJAX' seven-fold shield,
Which o'er his brazen arms he held:
But brass was feeble to resist
The fury of his armed fist: 340
Nor cou'd the hardest ir'n hold out
Against his blows, but they wou'd through't.

In MAGIC he was deeply read
As he that made the brazen head;
Profoundly skill'd in the black art; 345
As ENGLISH MERLIN for his heart;
But far more skilful in the spheres
Than he was at the sieve and shears.
He cou'd transform himself in colour
As like the devil as a collier; 350
As like as hypocrites in show
Are to true saints, or crow to crow.

Of WARLIKE ENGINES he was author,
Devis'd for quick dispatch of slaughter:
The cannon, blunderbuss, and saker, 355
He was th' inventor of, and maker:
The trumpet, and the kettle-drum,
Did both from his invention come.
He was the first that e'er did teach
To make, and how to stop, a breach. 360
A lance he bore with iron pike;
Th' one half wou'd thrust, the other strike;
And when their forces he had join'd,
He scorn'd to turn his parts behind.

He TRULLA lov'd; TRULLA, more bright 365
Than burnish'd armour of her Knight:
A bold virago, stout and tall,
As <d> JOAN of FRANCE, or English MALL.
Thro' perils both of wind and limb,
Thro' thick and thin, she follow'd him, 370
In ev'ry adventure h' undertook,
And never him or it forsook.
At breach of wall, or hedge surprize,
She shar'd i' th' hazard and the prize:
At beating quarters up, or forage, 375
Behav'd herself with matchless courage;
And laid about in fight more busily
Than the <e> Amazonian dame Penthesile.

And though some criticks here cry shame,
And say our authors are to blame, 380
That (spite of all philosophers,
Who hold no females stout, but bears;
And heretofore did so abhor
That women should pretend to war,
'They wou'd not suffer the stoutest dame 385
To swear <f> by HERCULES'S name)
Make feeble ladies, in their works,
To fight like termagants and Turks;
To lay their native arms aside,
Their modesty, and ride astride; 390
To run a-tilt at men, and wield
Their naked tools in open field;
As stout <g> ARMIDA, bold TRALESTRIS,
And she that wou'd have been the mistress
Of <h> GUNDIBERT; but he had grace, 395
And rather took a country lass;
They say, 'tis false, without all sense,
But of pernicious consequence
To government, which they suppose
Can never be upheld in prose; 400
Strip nature naked to the skin,
You'll find about her no such thing.
It may be so; yet what we tell
Of TRULLA that's improbable,
Shall be depos'd by those who've seen't, 405
Or, what's as good, produc'd in print:
And if they will not take our word,
We'll prove it true upon record.

The upright CERDON next advanc't,
Of all his race the valiant'st: 410
CERDON the Great, renown'd in song,
Like HERC'LES, for repair of wrong:
He rais'd the low, and fortify'd
The weak against the strongest side:
Ill has he read, that never hit 415
On him in Muses' deathless writ.
He had a weapon keen and fierce,
That through a bull-hide shield wou'd pierce,
And cut it in a thousand pieces, 420
Tho' tougher than the Knight of Greece his,
With whom his black-thumb'd ancestor
Was comrade in the ten years war:
For when the restless Greeks sat down
So many years before Troy town, 425
And were renown'd, as HOMER writes,
For well-soal'd boots no less than fights,
They ow'd that glory only to
His ancestor, that made them so.
Fast friend he was to REFORMATION, 430
Until 'twas worn quite out of fashion.
Next rectifier of wry LAW,
And wou'd make three to cure one flaw.
Learned he was, and could take note,
Transcribe, collect, translate, and quote. 435
But PREACHING was his chiefest talent,
Or argument, in which b'ing valiant,
He us'd to lay about and stickle,
Like ram or bull, at conventicle:
For disputants, like rams and bulls, 440
Do fight with arms that spring from skulls.

Last COLON came, bold man of war,
Destin'd to blows by fatal star;
Right expert in command of horse;
But cruel, and without remorse. 445
That which of CENTAUR long ago
Was said, and has been wrested to
Some other knights, was true of this;
He and his horse were of a piece.
One spirit did inform them both; 450
The self-same vigour, fury, wroth:
Yet he was much the rougher part,
And always had a harder heart;
Although his horse had been of those
That fed on man's flesh, as fame goes. 455
Strange food for horse! and yet, alas!
It may be true, for flesh is grass.
Sturdy he was, and no less able
Than HERCULES to clean a stable;
As great a drover, and as great 460
A critic too, in hog or neat.
He ripp'd the womb up of his mother,
Dame Tellus, 'cause she wanted fother
And provender wherewith to feed
Himself, and his less cruel steed. 465
It was a question, whether he
Or's horse were of a family
More worshipful: 'till antiquaries
(After th' had almost por'd out their eyes)
Did very learnedly decide 470
The business on the horse's side;
And prov'd not only horse, but cows,
Nay, pigs, were of the elder house:
For beasts, when man was but a piece
Of earth himself, did th' earth possess. 475

These worthies were the chief that led
The combatants, each in the head
Of his command, with arms and rage,
Ready and longing to engage.
The numerous rabble was drawn out 480
Of sev'ral counties round about,
From villages remote, and shires,
Of east and western hemispheres
From foreign parishes and regions,
Of different manners, speech, religions, 485
Came men and mastiffs; some to fight
For fame and honour, some for sight.
And now the field of death, the lists,
Were enter'd by antagonists,
And blood was ready to be broach'd, 490
When HUDIBRAS in haste approach'd,
With Squire and weapons, to attack 'em:
But first thus from his horse bespake 'em:
What rage, O citizens! what fury
Doth you to these dire actions hurry? 495
What oestrum, what phrenetic mood,
Makes you thus lavish of your blood,
While the proud Vies your trophies boast
And unreveng'd walks — ghost?
What towns, what garrisons might you 500
With hazard of this blood subdue,
Which now y'are bent to throw away
In vain, untriumphable fray!
Shall SAINTS in civil bloodshed wallow
Of Saints, and let the CAUSE lie fallow? 505
The Cause for which we fought and swore
So boldly, shall we now give o'er?
Then, because quarrels still are seen
With oaths and swearings to begin,
The SOLEMN LEAGUE and COVENANT 510
Will seem a mere God-dam-me rant;
And we, that took it, and have fought,
As lewd as drunkards that fall out.
For as we make war for the King
Against himself the self-same thing, 515
Some will not stick to swear we do
For God and for Religion too:
For if bear-baiting we allow,
What good can Reformation do?
The blood and treasure that's laid out, 520
Is thrown away, and goes for nought.
Are these the fruits o' th' PROTESTATION,
The Prototype of Reformation,
Which all the Saints, and some, since Martyrs,
Wore <k> in their hats like wedding garters, 525
When 'twas <l> resolv'd by either house
Six Members quarrel to espouse?
Did they for this draw down the rabble,
With zeal and noises formidable,
And make all cries about the town 530
Join throats to cry the Bishops down?
Who having round begirt the palace,
(As once a month they do the gallows,)
As members gave the sign about,
Set up their throats with hideous shout. 535
When tinkers bawl'd aloud to settle
Church discipline, for patching kettle:
No sow-gelder did blow his horn
To geld a cat, but cry'd, Reform.
The oyster-women lock'd their fish up, 540
And trudg'd away, to cry, No Bishop.
The mouse-trap men laid save-alls by,
And 'gainst Ev'l Counsellors did cry.
Botchers left old cloaths in the lurch,
And fell to turn and patch the Church. 545
Some cry'd the Covenant instead
Of pudding-pies and ginger-bread;
And some for brooms, old boots and shoes,
Bawl'd out to Purge the Commons House.
Instead of kitchen-stuff, some cry, 550
A Gospel-preaching Ministry;
And some, for old suits, coats, or cloak,
No Surplices nor Service-Book.
A strange harmonious inclination
Of all degrees to Reformation. 555
And is this all? Is this the end
To which these carr'ings on did tend?
Hath public faith, like a young heir,
For this ta'en up all sorts of ware,
And run int' every tradesman's book, 560
'Till both turn'd bankrupts, and are broke?
Did Saints for this bring in their plate,
And crowd as if they came too late?
For when they thought the Cause had need on't,
Happy was he that could be rid on't. 565
Did they coin piss-pots, bowls, and flaggons,
Int' officers of horse and dragoons;
And into pikes and musquetteers
Stamp beakers, cups, and porringers!
A thimble, bodkin, and a spoon, 570
Did start up living men as soon
As in the furnace they were thrown,
Just like the dragon's teeth b'ing sown.
Then was the Cause of gold and plate,
The Brethren's off'rings, consecrate, 575
Like th' Hebrew calf, and down before it
The Saints fell prostrate, to adore it
So say the wicked — and will you
Make that <m> sarcasmus scandal true,
By running after dogs and bears? 580
Beasts more unclean than calves or steers.
Have pow'rful Preachers ply'd their tongues,
And laid themselves out and their lungs;
Us'd all means, both direct and sinister,
I' th' pow'r of Gospel-preaching Minister? 585
Have they invented tones to win
The women, and make them draw in
The men, as Indians with a female
Tame elephant inveigle the male?
Have they told Prov'dence what it must do, 590
Whom to avoid, and whom to trust to?
Discover'd th' enemy's design,
And which way best to countermine?
Prescrib'd what ways it hath to work,
Or it will ne'er advance the Kirk? 595
Told it the news o' th' last express,
And after good or bad success,
Made prayers, not so like petitions,
As overtures and propositions,
(Such as the army did present 600
To their creator, th' Parliament,)
In which they freely will confess
They will not, cannot acquiesce,
Unless the work be carry'd on
In the same way they have begun, 605
By setting Church and Common-weal
All on a flame, bright as their zeal,
On which the Saints were all a-gog,
And all this for a bear and dog?
The parliament drew up petitions 610
To itself, and sent them, like commissions,
To well-affected persons down,
In ev'ry city and great town,
With pow'r to levy horse and men,
Only to bring them back agen: 615
For this did many, many a mile,
Ride manfully in rank and file,
With papers in their hats, that show'd
As if they to the pillory rode.
Have all these courses, these efforts, 620
Been try'd by people of all sorts,
Velis & remis, omnibus nervis
And all t'advance the Cause's service?
And shall all now be thrown, away
In petulant intestine fray? 625
Shall we that in the Cov'nant swore,
Each man of us to run before
Another, still in Reformation,
Give dogs and bears a dispensation?
How will Dissenting Brethren relish it? 630
What will malignants say? videlicet,
That each man Swore to do his best,
To damn and perjure all the rest!
And bid the Devil take the hin'most,
Which at this race is like to win most. 635
They'll say our bus'ness, to reform
The Church and State, is but a worm;
For to subscribe, unsight, unseen,
To an unknown Church-discipline,
What is it else, but before-hand 640
T'engage, and after understand?
For when we swore to carry on
The present Reformation,
According to the purest mode
Of Churches best reformed abroad, 645
What did we else, but make a vow
To do we know not what, nor how?
For no three of us will agree,
Where or what Churches these should be;
And is indeed <n> the self-same case 650
With theirs that swore et caeteras;
Or the <o> French League, in which men vow'd
To fight to the last drop of blood.
These slanders will be thrown upon
The Cause and Work we carry on, 655
If we permit men to run headlong
T' exorbitances fit for Bedlam
Rather than Gospel-walking times,
When slightest sins are greatest crimes.
But we the matter so shall handle, 660
As to remove that odious scandal.
In name of King and parliament,
I charge ye all; no more foment
This feud, but keep the peace between
Your brethren and your countrymen; 665
And to those places straight repair
Where your respective dwellings are.
But to that purpose first surrender
The FIDDLER, as the prime offender,
Th' incendiary vile, that is chief 670
Author and engineer of mischief;
That makes division between friends,
For profane and malignant ends.
He, and that engine of vile noise,
On which illegally he plays, 675
Shall (dictum factum) both be brought
To condign punishment, as they ought.
This must be done; and I would fain see
Mortal so sturdy as to gain-say:
For then I'll take another course, 680
And soon reduce you all by force.
This said, he clapp'd his hand on sword,
To shew he meant to keep his word.

But TALGOL, who had long supprest
Inflamed wrath in glowing, breast, 685
Which now began to rage and burn as
Implacably as flame in furnace,
Thus answer'd him: — Thou vermin wretched
As e'er in measled pork was hatched;
Thou tail of worship, that dost grow 690
On rump of justice as of cow;
How dar'st thou, with that sullen luggage
O' th' self, old ir'n, and other baggage,
With which thy steed of bones and leather
Has broke his wind in halting hither; 695
How durst th', I say, adventure thus
T' oppose thy lumber against us?
Could thine impertinence find out
To work t' employ itself about,
Where thou, secure from wooden blow, 700
Thy busy vanity might'st show?
Was no dispute a-foot between
The caterwauling Brethren?
No subtle question rais'd among 705
Those out-o-their wits, and those i' th' wrong;
No prize between those combatants
O' th' times, the Land and Water Saints;
Where thou might'st stickle without hazard
Of outrage to thy hide and mazzard;
And not for want of bus'ness come 710
To us to be so troublesome,
To interrupt our better sort
Of disputants, and spoil our sport?
Was there no felony, no bawd,
Cut-purse, no burglary abroad; 715
No stolen pig, nor plunder'd goose,
To tie thee up from breaking loose?
No ale unlicens'd, broken hedge,
For which thou statute might'st alledge,
To keep thee busy from foul evil, 720
And shame due to thee from the Devil?
Did no committee sit, where he
Might cut out journey-work for thee?
And set th' a task, with subornation,
To stitch up sale and sequestration; 725
To cheat, with holiness and zeal,
All parties, and the common-weal?
Much better had it been for thee,
H' had kept thee where th' art us'd to be;
Or sent th' on bus'ness any whither, 730
So he had never brought thee hither.
But if th' hast brain enough in skull
To keep itself in lodging whole,
And not provoke the rage of stones
And cudgels to thy hide and bones 735
Tremble, and vanish, while thou may'st,
Which I'll not promise if thou stay'st.
At this the Knight grew high in wroth,
And lifting hands and eyes up both,
Three times he smote on stomach stout, 740
From whence at length these words broke out:

Was I for this entitled SIR,
And girt with trusty sword and spur,
For fame and honor to wage battle,
Thus to be brav'd by foe to cattle? 745
Not all that pride that makes thee swell
As big as thou dost blown-up veal;
Nor all thy tricks and sleights to cheat,
And sell thy carrion for good meat;
Not all thy magic to repair 750
Decay'd old age in tough lean ware;
Make nat'ral appear thy work,
And stop the gangrene in stale pork;
Not all that force that makes thee proud,
Because by bullock ne'er withstood; 755
Though arm'd with all thy cleavers, knives,
And axes made to hew down lives,
Shall save or help thee to evade
The hand of Justice, or this blade,
Which I, her sword-bearer, do carry, 760
For civil deed and military.
Nor shall those words of venom base,
Which thou hast from their native place,
Thy stomach, pump'd to fling on me,
Go unreveng'd, though I am free: 765
Thou down the same throat shalt devour 'em,
Like tainted beef, and pay dear for 'em.
Nor shall it e'er be said, that wight
With gantlet blue, and bases white,
And round blunt truncheon by his side, 770
So great a man at arms defy'd
With words far bitterer than wormwood,
That would in Job or Grizel stir mood.
Dogs with their tongues their wounds do heal;
But men with hands, as thou shalt feel. 775

This said, with hasty rage he snatch'd
His gun-shot, that in holsters watch'd;
And bending cock, he levell'd full
Against th' outside of TALGOL'S skull;
Vowing that he shou'd ne'er stir further, 780
Nor henceforth cow nor bullock murther.
But PALLAS came in shape of rust,
And 'twixt the spring and hammerthrust
Her Gorgon shield, which made the cock
Stand stiff, as t'were transform'd to stock. 785
Mean while fierce TALGOL, gath'ring might,
With rugged truncheon charg'd the Knight;
But he with petronel upheav'd,
Instead of shield, the blow receiv'd.
The gun recoil'd, as well it might, 790
Not us'd to such a kind of fight,
And shrunk from its great master's gripe,
Knock'd down and stunn'd by mortal stripe.
Then HUDIBRAS, with furious haste,
Drew out his sword; yet not so fast, 795
But TALGOL first, with hardy thwack,
Twice bruis'd his head, and twice his back.
But when his nut-brown sword was out,
With stomach huge he laid about,
Imprinting many a wound upon 800
His mortal foe, the truncheon.
The trusty cudgel did oppose
Itself against dead-doing blows,
To guard its leader from fell bane,
And then reveng'd itself again. 805
And though the sword (some understood)
In force had much the odds of wood,
'Twas nothing so; both sides were ballanc't
So equal, none knew which was valiant'st:
For wood with Honour b'ing engag'd, 810
Is so implacably enrag'd,
Though iron hew and mangle sore,
Wood wounds and bruises Honour more.
And now both Knights were out of breath,
Tir'd in the hot pursuit of death; 815
While all the rest amaz'd stood still,
Expecting which should take or kill.
This HUDIBRAS observ'd; and fretting
Conquest should be so long a getting,
He drew up all his force into 820
One body, and that into one blow.
But TALGOL wisely avoided it
By cunning sleight; for had it hit,
The upper part of him the blow
Had slit as sure as that below. 825

Meanwhile th' incomparable COLON,
To aid his friend, began to fall on.
Him RALPH encounter'd, and straight grew
A dismal combat 'twixt them two:
Th' one arm'd with metal, th' other with wood; 830
This fit for bruise, and that for blood.
With many a stiff thwack, many a bang,
Hard crab-tree and old iron rang;
While none that saw them cou'd divine
To which side conquest would incline, 835
Until MAGNANO, who did envy
That two should with so many men vie,
By subtle stratagem of brain,
Perform'd what force could ne'er attain;
For he, by foul hap, having found 840
Where thistles grew on barren ground,
In haste he drew his weapon out,
And having cropp'd them from the root,
He clapp'd them underneath the tail
Of steed, with pricks as sharp as nail. 845
The angry beast did straight resent
The wrong done to his fundament;
Began to kick, and fling, and wince,
As if h' had been beside his sense,
Striving to disengage from thistle, 850
That gall'd him sorely under his tail:
Instead of which, he threw the pack
Of Squire and baggage from his back;
And blund'ring still with smarting rump,
He gave the Knight's steed such a thump 855
As made him reel. The Knight did stoop,
And sat on further side aslope.
This TALGOL viewing, who had now
By sleight escap'd the fatal blow,
He rally'd, and again fell to't; 860
For catching foe by nearer foot,
He lifted with such might and strength,
As would have hurl'd him thrice his length,
And dash'd his brains (if any) out:
But MARS, that still protects the stout, 865
In pudding-time came to his aid,
And under him the Bear convey'd;
The Bear, upon whose soft fur-gown
The Knight with all his weight fell down.
The friendly rug preserv'd the ground, 870
And headlong Knight, from bruise or wound;
Like feather-bed betwixt a wall
And heavy brunt of cannon-ball.
As Sancho on a blanket fell,
And had no hurt, our's far'd as well 875
In body; though his mighty spirit,
B'ing heavy, did not so well bear it,
The Bear was in a greater fright,
Beat down and worsted by the Knight.
He roar'd, and rak'd, and flung about, 880
To shake off bondage from his snout.
His wrath inflam'd, boil'd o'er, and from
His jaws of death he threw the foam:
Fury in stranger postures threw him,
And more than herald ever drew him. 885
He tore the earth which he had sav'd
From squelch of Knight, and storm'd and rav'd,
And vext the more because the harms
He felt were 'gainst the law of arms:
For men he always took to be 890
His friends, and dogs the enemy;
Who never so much hurt had done him,
As his own side did falling on him.
It griev'd him to the guts that they
For whom h' had fought so many a fray, 895
And serv'd with loss of blood so long,
Shou'd offer such inhuman wrong;
Wrong of unsoldier-like condition;
For which he flung down his commission;
And laid about him, till his nose 900
From thrall of ring and cord broke loose.
Soon as he felt himself enlarg'd,
Through thickest of his foes he charg'd,
And made way through th' amazed crew;
Some he o'erran, and some o'erthrew, 905
But took none; for by hasty flight
He strove t' escape pursuit of Knight;
From whom he fled with as much haste
And dread as he the rabble chas'd.
In haste he fled, and so did they; 910
Each and his fear a several way.

CROWDERO only kept the field;
Not stirring from the place he held;
Though beaten down and wounded sore,
I' th' fiddle, and a leg that bore 915
One side of him; not that of bone,
But much it's better, th' wooden one.
He spying HUDIBRAS lie strow'd
Upon the ground, like log of wood,
With fright of fall, supposed wound, 920
And loss of urine, in a swound,
In haste he snatch'd the wooden limb,
That hurt i' the ankle lay by him,
And fitting it for sudden fight,
Straight drew it up t' attack the Knight; 925
For getting up on stump and huckle,
He with the foe began to buckle;
Vowing to be reveng'd for breach
Of crowd and skin upon the wretch,
Sole author of all detriment 930
He and his fiddle underwent.

But RALPHO (who had now begun
T' adventure resurrection
From heavy squelch, and had got up
Upon his legs, with sprained crup) 935
Looking about, beheld pernicion
Approaching Knight from fell musician.
He snatch'd his whinyard up, that fled
When he was falling off his steed,
(As rats do from a falling house,) 940
To hide itself from rage of blows;
And, wing'd with speed and fury, flew
To rescue Knight from black and blew;
Which, e'er he cou'd atchieve, his sconce
The leg encounter'd twice and once; 945
And now 'twas rais'd to smite agen,
When RALPHO thrust himself between.
He took the blow upon his arm,
To shield the Knight from further harm;
And, joining wrath with force, bestow'd 950
On th' wooden member such a load,
That down it fell, and with it bore
CROWDERO, whom it propp'd before.
To him the Squire right nimbly run,
And setting conquering foot upon 955
His trunk, thus spoke: What desp'rate frenzy
Made thee (thou whelp of Sin!) to fancy
Thyself, and all that coward rabble,
T' encounter us in battle able?
How durst th', I say, oppose thy curship 960
'Gainst arms, authority, and worship?
And HUDIBRAS or me provoke,
Though all thy limbs, were heart of oke,
And th' other half of thee as good
To bear out blows, as that of wood? 965
Cou'd not the whipping-post prevail
With all its rhet'ric, nor the jail,
To keep from flaying scourge thy skin,
And ankle free from iron gin?
Which now thou shalt — But first our care 970
Must see how HUDIBRAS doth fare.
This said, he gently rais'd the Knight,
And set him on his bum upright.
To rouse him from lethargic dump,
He tweak'd his nose; with gentle thump 975
Knock'd on his breast, as if 't had been
To raise the spirits lodg'd within.
They, waken'd with the noise, did fly
From inward room to window eye,
And gently op'ning lid, the casement, 980
Look'd out, but yet with some amazement.
This gladded RALPHO much to see,
Who thus bespoke the Knight: quoth he,
Tweaking his nose, You are, great Sir,
A self-denying conqueror; 985
As high, victorious, and great,
As e'er fought for the Churches yet,
If you will give yourself but leave
To make out what y' already have;
That's victory. The foe, for dread 990
Of your nine-worthiness, is fled:
All, save CROWDERO, for whose sake
You did th' espous'd Cause undertake;
And he lies pris'ner at your feet,
To be dispos'd as you think meet; 995
Either for life, or death, or sale,
The gallows, or perpetual jail;
For one wink of your powerful eye
Must sentence him to live or die.
His fiddle is your proper purchase, 1000
Won in the service of the Churches;
And by your doom must be allow'd
To be, or be no more, a crowd.
For though success did not confer
Just title on the conqueror; 1005
Though dispensations were not strong
Conclusions, whether right or wrong,
Although out-goings did confirm,
And owning were but a mere term;
Yet as the wicked have no right 1010
To th' creature, though usurp'd by might,
The property is in the Saint,
From whom th' injuriously detain 't;
Of him they hold their luxuries,
Their dogs, their horses, whores, and dice, 1015
Their riots, revels, masks, delights,
Pimps, buffoons, fiddlers, parasites;
All which the Saints have title to,
And ought t' enjoy, if th' had their due.
What we take from them is no more 1020
Than what was our's by right before;
For we are their true landlords still,
And they our tenants but at will.
At this the Knight began to rouze,
And by degrees grow valorous. 1025
He star'd about, and seeing none
Of all his foes remain, but one,
He snatch'd his weapon, that lay near him,
And from the ground began to rear him;
Vowing to make CROWDERO pay 1030
For all the rest that ran away.
But RALPHO now, in colder blood,
His fury mildly thus withstood:
Great Sir, quoth he, your mighty spirit
Is rais'd too high: this slave does merit 1035
To be the hangman's bus'ness, sooner
Than from your hand to have the honour
Of his destruction. I, that am
A nothingness in deed and name
Did scorn to hurt his forfeit carcase, 1040
Or ill intreat his fiddle or case:
Will you, great Sir, that glory blot
In cold blood which you gain'd in hot?
Will you employ your conqu'ring sword
To break a fiddle and your word? 1045
For though I fought, and overcame,
And quarter gave, 'twas in your name.
For great commanders only own
What's prosperous by the soldier done.
To save, where you have pow'r to kill, 1050
Argues your pow'r above your will;
And that your will and pow'r have less
Than both might have of selfishness.
This pow'r which, now alive, with dread
He trembles at, if he were dead, 1055
Wou'd no more keep the slave in awe,
Than if you were a Knight of straw:
For death would then be his conqueror;
Not you, and free him from that terror.
If danger from his life accrue; 1060
Or honour from his death, to you,
'Twere policy, and honour too,
To do as you resolv'd to do:
But, Sir, 'twou'd wrong your valour much,
To say it needs or fears a crutch. 1065
Great conquerors greater glory gain
By foes in triumph led, than slain:
The laurels that adorn their brows
Are pull'd from living not dead boughs,
And living foes: the greatest fame 1070
Of cripple slain can be but lame.
One half of him's already slain,
The other is not worth your pain;
Th' honour can but on one side light,
As worship did, when y' were dubb'd Knight. 1075
Wherefore I think it better far
To keep him prisoner of war;
And let him fast in bonds abide,
At court of Justice to be try'd;
Where, if he appear so bold and crafty, 1080
There may be danger in his safety.
If any member there dislike
His face, or to his beard have pique;
Or if his death will save or yield,
Revenge or fright, it is reveal'd. 1085
Though he has quarter, ne'er the less
Y' have power to hang him when you please.
This has been often done by some
Of our great conqu'rors, you know whom;
And has by most of us been held 1090
Wise Justice, and to some reveal'd.
For words and promises, that yoke
The conqueror, are quickly broke;
Like SAMPSON's cuffs, though by his own
Direction and advice put on. 1095
For if we should fight for the CAUSE
By rules of military laws,
And only do what they call just,
The Cause would quickly fall to dust.
This we among ourselves may speak; 1100
But to the wicked, or the weak,
We must be cautious to declare
Perfection-truths, such as these are.

This said, the high outrageous mettle
Of Knight began to cool and settle. 1105
He lik'd the Squire's advice, and soon
Resolv'd to see the business done
And therefore charg'd him first to bind
CROWDERO'S hands on rump behind,
And to its former place and use, 1110
The wooden member to reduce
But force it take an oath before,
Ne'er to bear arms against him more.

RALPHO dispatch'd with speedy haste,
And having ty'd CROWDERO fast, 1115
He gave Sir Knight the end of cord,
To lead the captive of his sword
In triumph, whilst the steeds he caught,
And them to further service brought.
The Squire in state rode on before, 1120
And on his nut-brown whinyard bore
The trophee-fiddle and the case,
Leaning on shoulder like a mace.
The Knight himself did after ride,
Leading CROWDERO by his side; 1125
And tow'd him, if he lagg'd behind,
Like boat against the tide and wind.
Thus grave and solemn they march'd on,
Until quite thro' the town th' had gone;
At further end of which there stands 1130
An ancient castle, that commands
Th' adjacent parts: in all the fabrick
You shall not see one stone nor a brick;
But all of wood; by pow'rful spell
Of magic made impregnable. 1135
There's neither iron-bar nor gate,
Portcullis, chain, nor bolt, nor grate,
And yet men durance there abide,
In dungeon scarce three inches wide;
With roof so low, that under it 1140
They never stand, but lie or sit;
And yet so foul, that whoso is in,
Is to the middle-leg in prison;
In circle magical conflu'd,
With walls of subtile air and wind, 1145
Which none are able to break thorough,
Until they're freed by head of borough.
Thither arriv'd, th' advent'rous Knight
And bold Squire from their steeds alight
At th' outward wall, near which there stands 1150
A bastile, built to imprison hands;
By strange enchantment made to fetter
The lesser parts and free the greater;
For though the body may creep through,
The hands in grate are fast enough: 1155
And when a circle 'bout the wrist
Is made by beadle exorcist,
The body feels the spur and switch,
As if 'twere ridden post by witch
At twenty miles an hour pace, 1160
And yet ne'er stirs out of the place.
On top of this there is a spire,
On which Sir Knight first bids the Squire
The fiddle and its spoils, the case,
In manner of a trophee place. 1165
That done, they ope the trap-door gate,
And let CROWDERO down thereat;
CROWDERO making doleful face,
Like hermit poor in pensive place.
To dungeon they the wretch commit, 1170
And the survivor of his feet
But th' other, that had broke the peace
And head of Knighthood, they release;
Though a delinquent false and forged,
Yet be'ing a stranger, he's enlarged; 1175
While his comrade, that did no hurt,
Is clapp'd up fast in prison for't.
So Justice, while she winks at crimes,
Stumbles on innocence sometimes.

NOTES TO PART I. CANTO II.

47 x That is to say, whether Tollulation, As they do term't, or Succussation. Tollulation and succussation are only Latin words for ambling and trotting; though I believe both were natural amongst the old Romans; since I never read they made use of the trammel, or any other art, to pace their horses.

60 y As Indian Britons, &c.] The American Indians call a great bird they have, with a white head, a penguin, which signifies the same thing in the British tongue: from whence (with other words of the same kind) some authors have endeavoured to prove, that the Americans are originally derived from the Britons.

65 z The dire, &c.] Pharsalia is a city of Thessaly, famous for the battle won by Julius Caesar against Pompey the Great, in the neighbouring plains, in the 607th year of Rome, of which read Lucan's Pharsalia.

129 a Chiron, the &c.] Chiron, a Centaur, son to Saturn and Phillyris, living in the mountains, where, being much given to hunting, he became very knowing in the virtues of plants and one of the most famous physicians of his time. He imparted his skill to AEsculapius and was afterwards Apollo's governor, until being wounded by Hercules, and desiring to die, Jupiter placed him in heaven, where he forms the sign of Sagittarius or the Archer.

133 b In Staffordshire, where virtuous Worth Does raise the Minstrelsy, not Birth, &c. The whole history of this ancient ceremony you may read at large in Dr. Plot's History of Staffordshire, under the town Tutbury.

155 c Grave as, &c.] For the history of Pegu, read Mandelsa and Olearius's Travels.

172 In military, &c.] Paris Garden, in Southwark, took its name from the possessor.

231 Though by, &c.] Promethean fire. Prometheus was the son of Iapetus, and brother of Atlas, concerning whom the poets have feigned, that having first formed men of the earth and water, he stole fire from heaven to put life into them; and that having thereby displeased Jupiter, he commanded Vulcan to tie him to mount Caucasus with iron chains, and that a vulture should prey upon his liver continually: but the truth of the story is, that Prometheus was an astrologer, and constant in observing the stars upon that mountain; and, that, among other things, he found the art of making fire, either by the means of a flint, or by contracting the sun-beams in a glass. Bochart will have Magog, in the Scripture, to be the Prometheus of the Pagans.

He here and before sarcastically derides those who were great admirers of the sympathetic powder and weapon salve, which were in great repute in those days, and much promoted by the great Sir Kenelm Digby, who wrote a treatise ex professo [of his own knowledge] on that subject, and, I believe, thought what he wrote to be true, which since has been almost exploded out of the world.

267 And 'mong, &c.] Cossacks are a people that live near Poland. This name was given them for their extraordinary nimbleness; for cosa, or kosa, in the Polish tongue, signifies a goat. He that would know more of them, may read Le Laboreur and Thuldenus.

275 And tho', &c.] This custom of the Huns is described by Ammianus Marcellinus, Hunni semicruda cujusvis Pecoris carne vescuntur, quasi inter femora sua & equorum terga subsertam, calefacient brevi. P. 686. [The Huns stoutheartedly eat half-raw meat, which is warned briefly by being hedl between their thighs and their hoeses' backs.]

283 - — He spous'd in India, Of noble House, a Lady gay. The Story in Le Blanc, of a bear that married a king's daughter, is no more strange than many others, in most travellers, that pass with allowance; for if they should write nothing but what is possible, or probable, they might appear to have lost their labour, and observed nothing but what they might have done as well at home.

343 In MAGIC he was deeply read,
As he that made the Brazen-Head;
Profoundly skill'd in the Black Art;
As ENGLISH MERLIN for his Heart.
Roger Bacon and Merlin. See Collier's Dictionary.

368 d As JOAN, &c.] Two notorious women; the last was known here by the name of Moll Cutpurse.

378 e Than the Amazonian, &c.] Penthesile, Queen of the Amazons, succeeded Orythia. She carried succours to the Trojans, and after having given noble proofs of her bravery, was killed by Achilles. Pliny saith, it was she that invented the battle-ax. If any one desire to know more of the Amazons, let him read Mr. Sanson.

385 f They wou'd not suffer the stout'st Dame To swear by HERCULES's Name. The old Romans had particular oaths for men and women to swear by, and therefore Macrobius says, Viri per Castorum non jurabant antiquitus, nec Mulieres per Herculem; AEdepol autem juramentum erat tum mulieribus, quam viris commune, &c. [Men did not swear by Castor in ancient times, nor women by Hercules; however women swore by AEdepol as much as men did.]

393 g As stout, &c.] Two formidable women at arms, in romances, that were cudgelled into love by their gallants.

395 h Of GUNDIBERT &c.] Gundibert is a feigned name, made use of by Sir William d' Avenant in his famous epic poem, so called; wherein you may find also that of his mistress. This poem was designed by the author to be an imitation of the English Drama: it being divided into five books, as the other is into five acts; the Cantos to be parallel of the scenes, with this difference, that this is delivered narratively, the other dialoguewise. It was ushered into the world by a large preface, written by Mr. Hobbes, and by the pens of two of our best poets, viz. Mr. Waller and Mr. Cowley, which one would have thought might have proved a sufficient defence and protection against snarling critics. Notwithstanding which, four eminent wits of that age (two of which were Sir John Denham and Mr. Donne) published several copies of verses to Sir William's discredit, under this title, Certain Verses written by several of the Author's Friends, to be reprinted with the second Edition of Gundibert in 8vo. Lond. 1653. These verses were as wittily answered by the author, under this title, The incomparable Poem of Gundibert vindicated from the Wit Combat of four Esquires, Clinias, Damoetas, Sancho, and Jack-Pudding; printed in 8vo. Lond. 1665, Vide Langbain's Account of Dramatic Poets.

496 i What OEstrum, &c.] OEstrum is not only a Greek word for madness, but signifies also a gad-bee or horse-fly, that torments cattle in the summer, and makes them run about as if they were mad.

525 k Wore in their Hats, &c.] Some few days after the King had accus'd the five Members of Treason in the House of Commons, great Crowds of the rabble came down to Westminster-Hall, with printed copies of the Protestation tied in their hats like favours.

526 l When 'twas resolv'd by either House Six Members Quarrel to espouse. The six Members were the Lord Kimbolton, Mr. Pym, Mr. Hollis, Mr. Hampden, Sir Arthur Haslerig, and Mr. Stroud, whom the King ordered to be apprehended, and their papers seized; charging them of plotting with the Scots, and favouring the late tumults; but the House voted against the arrest of their persons or papers; whereupon the King having preferred articles against those Members, he went with his guard to the House to demand them; but they, having notice, withdrew.

578 m Make that, &c.] Abusive or insulting had been better; but our Knight believed the learned language more convenient to understand in than his own Mother-tongue.

650 n And is indeed the self same Case With theirs that swore t' Et caeteras. The Convocation, in one of the short Parliaments, that ushered in the long one, (as dwarfs are wont to do knights-errant,) made an oath to be taken by the clergy for observing canonical obedience; in which they enjoined their brethren, out of the abundance of their consciences, to swear to articles with, &c.

652 o Or the French League, in which men vow'd To fight to the last Drop of Blood. The Holy League in France, designed and made for the extirpation of the Protestant Religion, was the original out of which the Solemn League and Covenant here was (with the difference only of circumstances) most faithfully transcribed. Nor did the success of both differ more than the intent and purpose; for after the destruction of vast numbers of people of all sorts, both ended with the murder of two Kings, whom they had both sworn to defend: And as our Covenanters swore every man to run one before another in the way of Reformation, so did the French, in the Holy League, to fight to the last drop of blood.

PART I.

CANTO III.

THE ARGUMENT.

————————————————————————-
The scatter'd rout return and rally,
Surround the place; the Knight does sally,
And is made pris'ner: Then they seize
Th' inchanted fort by storm; release
Crowdero, and put the Squire in's place;
I should have first said Hudibras.
————————————————————————-

Ah me! what perils do environ
The man that meddles with cold iron!
What plaguy mischiefs and mishaps
Do dog him still with after-claps!
For though dame Fortune seem to smile 5
And leer upon him for a while,
She'll after shew him, in the nick
Of all his glories, a dog-trick.
This any man may sing or say,
I' th' ditty call'd, What if a Day? 10
For HUDIBRAS, who thought h' had won
The field, as certain as a gun;
And having routed the whole troop,
With victory was cock a-hoop;
Thinking h' had done enough to purchase 15
Thanksgiving-day among the Churches,
Wherein his mettle, and brave worth,
Might be explain'd by Holder-forth,
And register'd, by fame eternal,
In deathless pages of diurnal; 20
Found in few minutes, to his cost,
He did but count without his host;
And that a turn-stile is more certain
Than, in events of war, dame Fortune.

For now the late faint-hearted rout, 25
O'erthrown, and scatter'd round about,
Chas'd by the horror of their fear
From bloody fray of Knight and Bear,
(All but the dogs, who, in pursuit
Of the Knight's victory, stood to't, 30
And most ignobly fought to get
The honour of his blood and sweat,)
Seeing the coast was free and clear
O' th' conquer'd and the conqueror,
Took heart again, and fac'd about, 35
As if they meant to stand it out:
For by this time the routed Bear,
Attack'd by th' enemy i' th' rear,
Finding their number grew too great
For him to make a safe retreat, 40
Like a bold chieftain, fac'd about;
But wisely doubting to hold out,
Gave way to Fortune, and with haste
Fac'd the proud foe, and fled, and fac'd;
Retiring still, until he found 45
H' had got the advantage of the ground;
And then as valiantly made head
To check the foe, and forthwith fled;
Leaving no art untry'd, nor trick
Of warrior stout and politick, 50
Until, in spite of hot pursuit,
He gain'd a pass to hold dispute
On better terms, and stop the course
Of the proud foe. With all his force
He bravely charg'd, and for a while 55
Forc'd their whole body to recoil;
But still their numbers so increas'd,
He found himself at length oppress'd,
And all evasions, so uncertain,
To save himself for better fortune, 60
That he resolv'd, rather than yield,
To die with honour in the field,
And sell his hide and carcase at
A price as high and desperate
As e'er he could. This resolution 65
He forthwith put in execution,
And bravely threw himself among
The enemy i' th' greatest throng.
But what cou'd single valour do
Against so numerous a foe? 70
Yet much he did indeed, too much
To be believ'd, where th' odds were such.
But one against a multitude
Is more than mortal can make good.
For while one party he oppos'd, 75
His rear was suddenly inclos'd;
And no room left him for retreat,
Or fight against a foe so great.
For now the mastives, charging home,
To blows and handy gripes were come: 80
While manfully himself he bore,
And setting his right-foot before,
He rais'd himself, to shew how tall
His person was above them all.
This equal shame and envy stirr'd 85
In th' enemy, that one should beard
So many warriors, and so stout,
As he had done, and stav'd it out,
Disdaining to lay down his arms,
And yield on honourable terms. 90
Enraged thus, some in the rear
Attack'd him, and some ev'ry where,
Till down he fell; yet falling fought,
And, being down, still laid about;
As WIDDRINGTON, in doleful dumps, 95
Is said to light upon his stumps.

But all, alas! had been in vain,
And he inevitably slain,
If TRULLA and CERDON, in the nick,
To rescue him had not been quick; 100
For TRULLA, who was light of foot
As shafts which long-field Parthians shoot,
(But not so light as to be borne
Upon the ears of standing corn,
Or trip it o'er the water quicker 105
Than witches, when their staves they liquor,
As some report,) was got among
The foremost of the martial throng;
There pitying the vanquish'd Bear,
She call'd to CERDON, who stood near, 110
Viewing the bloody fight; to whom,
Shall we (quoth she) stand still hum-drum,
And see stout Bruin all alone,
By numbers basely overthrown?
Such feats already h' has atchiev'd, 115
In story not to be believ'd;
And 'twould to us be shame enough,
Not to attempt to fetch him off.
I would (quoth he) venture a limb
To second thee, and rescue him: 120
But then we must about it straight,
Or else our aid will come too late.
Quarter he scorns, he is so stout,
And therefore cannot long hold out.
This said, they wav'd their weapons round 125
About their heads, to clear the ground;
And joining forces, laid about
So fiercely, that th' amazed rout
Turn'd tale again, and straight begun,
As if the Devil drove, to run. 130
Meanwhile th' approach'd th' place where Bruin
Was now engag'd to mortal ruin.
The conqu'ring foe they soon assail'd;
First TRULLA stav'd, and CERDON tail'd,
Until their mastives loos'd their hold: 135
And yet, alas! do what they could,
The worsted Bear came off with store
Of bloody wounds, but all before:
For as ACHILLES, dipt in pond,
Was ANABAPTIZ'D free from wound, 140
Made proof against dead-doing steel
All over, but the Pagan heel;
So did our champion's arms defend
All of him, but the other end,
His head and ears, which, in the martial 145
Encounter, lost a leathern parcel
For as an Austrian Archduke once
Had one ear (which in ducatoons
Is half the coin) in battle par'd
Close to his head, so Bruin far'd; 150
But tugg'd and pull'd on th' other side,
Like scriv'ner newly crucify'd;
Or like the late <q> corrected leathern
Ears of the Circumcised Brethren.
But gentle TRULLA into th' ring 155
He wore in's nose convey'd a string,
With which she march'd before, and led
The warrior to a grassy bed,
As authors write, in a cool shade,
Which eglantine and roses made; 160
Close by a softly murm'ring stream,
Where lovers us'd to loll and dream.
There leaving him to his repose,
Secured from pursuit of foes,
And wanting nothing but a song, 165
And a well-tun'd theorbo hung
Upon a bough, to ease the pain
His tugg'd ears suffer'd, with a strain,
They both drew up, to march in quest
Of his great leader and the rest. 170

For ORSIN (who was more renown'd
For stout maintaining of his ground
In standing fight, than for pursuit,
As being not so quick of foot)
Was not long able to keep pace 175
With others that pursu'd the chace;
But found himself left far behind,
Both out of heart and out of wind:
Griev'd to behold his Bear pursu'd
So basely by a multitude; 180
And like to fall, not by the prowess,
But numbers of his coward foes.
He rag'd, and kept as heavy a coil as
Stout HERCULES for loss of HYLAS;
Forcing the vallies to repeat 185
The accents of his sad regret.
He beat his breast, and tore his hair,
For loss of his dear Crony Bear;
That Eccho, from the hollow ground,
His doleful wailings did resound 190
More wistfully, by many times,
Than in small poets splay-foot rhimes
That make her, in their rueful stories
To answer to int'rogatories,
And most unconscionably depose 195
To things of which she nothing knows;
And when she has said all she can say,
'Tis wrested to the lover's fancy.
Quoth he, O whither, wicked Bruin
Art thou fled to my — Eccho, Ruin? 200
I thought th' hadst scorn'd to budge a step
For fear. (Quoth Eccho) Marry guep.
Am not I here to take thy part?
Then what has quelled thy stubborn heart?
Have these bones rattled, and this head 205
So often in thy quarrel bled?
Nor did I ever winch or grudge it,
For thy dear sake. (Quoth she) Mum budget
Think'st thou 'twill not be laid i' th' dish
Thou turn'dst thy back? Quoth Eccho, Fish. 210
To run from those t'hast overcome
Thus cowardly? Quoth Eccho, Mum.
But what a vengeance makes thee fly
From me too, as thine enemy?
Or if thou hast no thought of me, 215
Nor what I have endur'd for thee,
Yet shame and honour might prevail
To keep thee thus from turning tail:
For who would grudge to spend his blood in
His honour's cause? Quoth she, A puddin. 220
This said, his grief to anger turn'd,
Which in his manly stomach burn'd;
Thirst of revenge, and wrath, in place
Of sorrow, now began to blaze.
He vow'd the authors of his woe 225
Should equal vengeance undergo;
And with their bones and flesh pay dear
For what he suffer'd, and his Bear.
This b'ing resolv'd, with equal speed
And rage he hasted to proceed 230
To action straight, and giving o'er
To search for Bruin any more,
He went in quest of HUDIBRAS,
To find him out where-e'er he was;
And, if he were above ground, vow'd 235
He'd ferret him, lurk where be wou'd.

But scarce had he a furlong on
This resolute adventure gone,
When he encounter'd with that crew
Whom HUDIBRAS did late subdue. 240
Honour, revenge, contempt, and shame,
Did equally their breasts inflame.
'Mong these the fierce MAGNANO was,
And TALGOL, foe to HUDIBRAS;
CERDON and COLON, warriors stout, 245
As resolute, as ever fought;
Whom furious ORSIN thus bespoke:
Shall we (quoth be) thus basely brook
The vile affront that paltry ass,
And feeble scoundrel, HUDIBRAS, 250
With that more paltry ragamuffin,
RALPHO, with vapouring and huffing,
Have put upon us like tame cattle,
As if th' had routed us in battle?
For my part, it shall ne'er be said, 255
I for the washing gave my bead:
Nor did I turn my back for fear
O' th' rascals, but loss of my Bear,
Which now I'm like to undergo;
For whether those fell wounds, or no 260
He has receiv'd in fight, are mortal,
Is more than all my skill can foretell
Nor do I know what is become
Of him, more than the Pope of Rome.
But if I can but find them out 265
That caus'd it (as I shall, no doubt,
Where-e'er th' in hugger-mugger lurk)
I'll make them rue their handy-work;
And wish that they had rather dar'd
To pull the Devil by the beard. 270

Quoth CERD0N, Noble ORSIN, th' hast
Great reason to do as thou say'st,
And so has ev'ry body here,
As well as thou hast, or thy Bear.
Others may do as they see good; 275
But if this twig be made of wood
That will hold tack, I'll make the fur
Fly 'bout the ears of that old cur;
And the other mungrel vermin, RALPH,
That brav'd us all in his behalf. 280
Thy Bear is safe, and out of peril,
Though lugg'd indeed, and wounded very ill;
Myself and TRULLA made a shift
To help him out at a dead lift;
And, having brought him bravely off, 285
Have left him where he's safe enough:
There let him rest; for if we stay,
The slaves may hap to get away.

This said, they all engag'd to join
Their forces in the same design; 290
And forthwith put themselves in search
Of HUDIBRAS upon their march.
Where leave we awhile, to tell
What the victorious knight befel.
For such, CROWDERO being fast 295
In dungeon shut, we left him last.
Triumphant laurels seem'd to grow
No where so green as on his brow;
Laden with which, as well as tir'd
With conquering toil, he now retir'd 300
Unto a neighb'ring castle by,
To rest his body, and apply
Fit med'cines to each glorious bruise
He got in fight, reds, blacks, and blues,
To mollify th' uneasy pang 305
Of ev'ry honourable bang,
Which b'ing by skilful midwife drest,
He laid him down to take his rest.
But all in vain. H' had got a hurt
O' th' inside, of a deadlier sort, 310
By CUPID made, who took his stand
Upon a Widow's jointure land,
(For he, in all his am'rous battels,
No 'dvantage finds like goods and chattels,)
Drew home his bow, and, aiming right, 315
Let fly an arrow at the Knight:
The shaft against a rib did glance,
And gall'd him in the purtenance.
But time had somewhat 'swag'd his pain,
After he found his suit in vain. 320
For that proud dame, for whom his soul
Was burnt in's belly like a coal,
(That belly which so oft did ake
And suffer griping for her sake,
Till purging comfits and ants-eggs 325
Had almost brought him off his legs,)
Us'd him so like a base rascallion,
That <r> old Pyg — (what d'y' call him) malion,
That cut his mistress out of stone,
Had not so hard a-hearted one. 330
She had a thousand jadish tricks,
Worse than a mule that flings and kicks;
'Mong which one cross-grain'd freak she had,
As insolent as strange and mad;
She could love none, but only such 335
As scorn'd and hated her as much.
'Twas a strange riddle of a lady:
Not love, if any lov'd her! Hey dey!
So cowards never use their might,
But against such as will not fight; 340
So some diseases have been found
Only to seize upon the sound.
He that gets her by heart, must say her
The back way, like a witch's prayer.
Mean while the Knight had no small task 345
To compass what he durst not ask.
He loves, but dares not make the motion;
Her ignorance is his devotion:
Like caitiff vile, that, for misdeed,
Rides with his face to rump of steed, 350
Or rowing scull, he's fain to love,
Look one way, and another move;
Or like a tumbler, that does play
His game, and look another way,
Until he seize upon the cony; 355
Just so he does by matrimony:
But all in vain; her subtle snout
Did quickly wind his meaning out;
Which she return'd with too much scorn
To be by man of honour borne: 360
Yet much he bore, until the distress
He suffer'd from his spightful mistress
Did stir his stomach; and the pain
He had endur'd from her disdain,
Turn'd to regret so resolute, 365
That he resolv'd to wave his suit,
And either to renounce her quite,
Or for a while play least in sight.
This resolution b'ing put on,
He kept some months, and more had done; 370
But being brought so nigh by Fate,
The victory he atchiev'd so late
Did set his thoughts agog, and ope
A door to discontinu'd hope,
That seem'd to promise he might win 375
His dame too, now his hand was in;
And that his valour, and the honour
H' had newly gain'd, might work upon her.
These reasons made his mouth to water
With am'rous longings to be at her. 380

Quoth he, unto himself, Who knows,
But this brave conquest o'er my foes
May reach her heart, and make that stoop,
As I but now have forc'd the troop?
If nothing can oppugn love, 385
And virtue invious ways can prove,
What may he not confide to do
That brings both love and virtue too?
But thou bring'st valour too and wit;
Two things that seldom fail to hit. 390
Valour's a mouse-trap, wit a gin,
Which women oft are taken in.
Then, HUDIBRAS, why should'st thou fear
To be, that art a conqueror?
Fortune th' audacious doth juvare, 395
But lets the timidous miscarry.
Then while the honour thou hast got
Is spick and span new, piping hot,
Strike her up bravely, thou hadst best,
And trust thy fortune with the rest. 400
Such thoughts as these the Knight did keep,
More than his bangs or fleas, from sleep.
And as an owl, that in a barn
Sees a mouse creeping in the corn,
Sits still, and shuts his round blue eyes, 405
As if he slept, until he spies
The little beast within his reach,
Then starts, and seizes on the wretch;
So from his couch the Knight did start
To seize upon the widow's heart; 410
Crying with hasty tone, and hoarse,
RALPHO, dispatch; To Horse, To Horse.
And 'twas but time; for now the rout,
We left engag'd to seek him out,
By speedy marches, were advanc'd 415
Up to the fort, where he ensconc'd;
And all th' avenues had possest
About the place, from east to west.

That done, a while they made a halt,
To view the ground, and where t' assault: 420
Then call'd a council, which was best,
By siege or onslaught, to invest
The enemy; and 'twas agreed,
By storm and onslaught to proceed.
This b'ing resolv'd, in comely sort 425
They now drew up t' attack the fort;
When HUDIBRAS, about to enter
Upon another-gates adventure,
To RALPHO call'd aloud to arm,
Not dreaming of approaching storm. 430
Whether Dame Fortune, or the care
Of Angel bad or tutelar,
Did arm, or thrust him on a danger
To which he was an utter stranger;
That foresight might, or might not, blot 435
The glory he had newly got;
For to his shame it might be said,
They took him napping in his bed;
To them we leave it to expound,
That deal in sciences profound. 440

His courser scarce he had bestrid,
And RALPHO that on which he rid,
When setting ope the postern gate,
Which they thought best to sally at,
The foe appear'd, drawn up and drill'd, 445
Ready to charge them in the field.
This somewhat startled the bold Knight,
Surpriz'd with th' unexpected sight.
The bruises of his bones and flesh
The thought began to smart afresh; 450
Till recollecting wonted courage,
His fear was soon converted to rage,
And thus he spoke: The coward foe,
Whom we but now gave quarter to,
Look, yonder's rally'd, and appears 455
As if they had out-run their fears.
The glory we did lately get,
The Fates command us to repeat;
And to their wills we must succumb,
Quocunque trahunt, 'tis our doom. 460
This is the same numeric crew
Which we so lately did subdue;
The self-same individuals that
Did run as mice do from a cat,
When we courageously did wield 465
Our martial weapons in the field
To tug for victory; and when
We shall our shining blades agen
Brandish in terror o'er our heads,
They'll straight resume their wonted dreads. 470
Fear is an ague, that forsakes
And haunts by fits those whom it takes:
And they'll opine they feel the pain
And blows they felt to-day again.
Then let us boldly charge them home, 475
And make no doubt to overcome.

This said, his courage to inflame,
He call'd upon his mistress' name.
His pistol next he cock'd a-new,
And out his nut-brown whinyard drew; 480
And, placing RALPHO in the front,
Reserv'd himself to bear the brunt,
As expert warriors use: then ply'd
With iron heel his courser's side,
Conveying sympathetic speed 485
From heel of Knight to heel of Steed.

Mean while the foe, with equal rage
And speed, advancing to engage,
Both parties now were drawn so close,
Almost to come to handy-blows; 490
When ORSIN first let fly a stone
At RALPHO: not so huge a one
As that which DIOMED did maul
AENEAS on the bum withal
Yet big enough if rightly hurl'd, 495
T' have sent him to another world,
Whether above-ground, or below,
Which Saints Twice Dipt are destin'd to.
The danger startled the bold Squire,
And made him some few steps retire. 500
But HUDIBRAS advanc'd to's aid,
And rouz'd his spirits, half dismay'd.
He wisely doubting lest the shot
Of th' enemy, now growing hot,
Might at a distance gall, press'd close, 505
To come pell-mell to handy-blows,
And, that he might their aim decline,
Advanc'd still in an oblique line;
But prudently forbore to fire,
Till breast to breast he had got nigher, 510
As expert warriors use to do
When hand to hand they charge their foe.
This order the advent'rous Knight,
Most soldier-like, observ'd in fight,
When fortune (as she's wont) turn'd fickle, 515
And for the foe began to stickle.
The more shame for her Goody-ship,
To give so near a friend the slip.
For COLON, choosing out a stone,
Levell'd so right, it thump'd upon 520
His manly paunch with such a force,
As almost beat him off his horse.
He lost his whinyard, and the rein;
But, laying fast hold of the mane,
Preserv'd his seat; and as a goose 525
In death contracts his talons close,
So did the Knight, and with one claw
The trigger of his pistol draw.
The gun went off: and as it was
Still fatal to stout HUDIBRAS, 530
In all his feats of arms, when least
He dreamt of it, to prosper best,
So now he far'd: the shot, let fly
At random 'mong the enemy,
Pierc'd TALGOL's gaberdine, and grazing 535
Upon his shoulder, in the passing,
Lodg'd in MAGNANO's brass habergeon,
Who straight, A Surgeon, cry'd, A Surgeon.
He tumbled down, and, as he fell,
Did Murther, Murther, Murther, yell. 540
This startled their whole body so,
That if the Knight had not let go
His arms, but been in warlike plight,
H' had won (the second time) the fight;
As, if the Squire had but fall'n on, 545
He had inevitably done:
But he, diverted with the care
Or HUDIBRAS his hurt, forbare
To press th' advantage of his fortune
While danger did the rest dishearten: 550
For he with CERDON b'ing engag'd
In close encounter, they both wag'd
The fight so well, 'twas hard to say
Which side was like to get the day.
And now the busy work of death 555
Had tir'd them so, th' agreed to breath,
Preparing to renew the fight,
When the disaster of the Knight,
And th' other party, did divert
Their fell intent, and forc'd them part. 560
RALPHO press'd up to HUDIBRAS,
And CERDON where MAGNANO was;
Each striving to confirm his party
With stout encouragements, and hearty.

Quoth RALIHO, Courage, valiant Sir, 565
And let revenge and honour stir
Your spirits up: once we fall on,
The shatter'd foe begins to run:
For if but half so well you knew
To use your victory as subdue, 570
They durst not, after such a blow
As you have given them, face us now;
But from so formidable a soldier
Had fled like crows when they smell powder.
Thrice have they seen your sword aloft 575
Wav'd o'er their heads, and fled as oft.
But if you let them recollect
Their spirits, now dismay'd and checkt,
You'll have a harder game to play
Than yet y' have had to get the day. 580

Thus spoke the stout Squire; but was heard
By HUDIBRAS with small regard.
His thoughts were fuller of the bang
Be lately took than RALPH'S harangue;
To which he answer'd, Cruel Fate 585
Tells me thy counsel comes too late.
The knotted blood within my hose,
That from my wounded body flows,
With mortal crisis doth portend
My days to appropinque an end. 590
I am for action now unfit,
Either of fortitude or wit:
Fortune, my foe, begins to frown,
Resolv'd to pull my stomach down.
I am not apt, upon a wound, 595
Or trivial basting, to despond:
Yet I'd be loth my days to curtail:
For if I thought my wounds not mortal,
Or that we'd time enough as yet,
To make an hon'rable retreat, 600
'Twere the best course: but if they find
We fly, and leave our arms behind
For them to seize on, the dishonour,
And danger too, is such, I'll sooner
Stand to it boldly, and take quarter, 605
To let them see I am no starter.
In all the trade of war, no feat
Is nobler than a brave retreat:
For those that run away, and fly,
Take place at least of th' enemy. 610

This said, the Squire, with active speed
Dismounted from his bonny steed,
To seize the arms, which, by mischance,
Fell from the bold Knight in a trance.
These being found out, and restor'd 615
To HUDIBRAS their natural lord,
As a man may say, with might and main,
He hasted to get up again.
Thrice he assay'd to mount aloft,
But, by his weighty bum, as oft 620
He was pull'd back, till having found
Th' advantage of the rising ground,
Thither he led his warlike steed,
And having plac'd him right, with speed
Prepar'd again to scale the beast, 625
When ORSIN, who had newly drest
The bloody scar upon the shoulder
Of TALGOL with Promethean powder,
And now was searching for the shot
That laid MAGNANO on the spot, 630
Beheld the sturdy Squire aforesaid
Preparing to climb up his horse side.
He left his cure, and laying hold
Upon his arms, with courage bold,
Cry'd out, 'Tis now no time to dally, 635
The enemy begin to rally:
Let us, that are unhurt and whole,
Fall on, and happy man be's dole.

This said, like to a thunderbolt,
He flew with fury to th' assault, 640
Striving the enemy to attack
Before he reach'd his horse's back.
RALPHO was mounted now, and gotten
O'erthwart his beast with active vau'ting,
Wrigling his body to recover 645
His seat, and cast his right leg over,
When ORSIN, rushing in, bestow'd
On horse and man so heavy a load,
The beast was startled, and begun
To kick and fling like mad, and run, 650
Bearing the tough Squire like a sack,
Or stout king RICHARD, on his back,
'Till stumbling, he threw him down,
Sore bruis'd, and cast into a swoon.
Meanwhile the Knight began to rouze 655
The sparkles of his wonted prowess.
He thrust his hand into his hose,
And found, both by his eyes and nose,
'Twas only choler, and not blood,
That from his wounded body flow'd. 660
This, with the hazard of the Squire,
Inflam'd him with despightful ire.
Courageously he fac'd about.
And drew his other pistol out,
And now had half way bent the cock, 665
When CERDON gave so fierce a shock,
With sturdy truncheon, thwart his arm,
That down it fell, and did no harm;
Then stoutly pressing on with speed,
Assay'd to pull him off his steed. 670
The Knight his sword had only left,
With which he CERDON'S head had cleft,
Or at the least cropt off a limb,
But ORSIN came, and rescu'd him.
He, with his lance, attack'd the Knight 675
Upon his quarters opposite.
But as a barque, that in foul weather,
Toss'd by two adverse winds together,
Is bruis'd, and beaten to and fro,
And knows not which to turn him to; 680
So far'd the Knight between two foes,
And knew not which of them t'oppose;
Till ORSIN, charging with his lance
At HUDIBRAS, by spightful chance,
Hit CERDON such a bang, as stunn'd 685
And laid him flat upon the ground.
At this the Knight began to chear up,
And, raising up himself on stirrup,
Cry'd out, Victoria! Lie thou there,
And I shall straight dispatch another, 690
To bear thee company in death:
But first I'll halt a while, and breath:
As well he might; for ORSIN, griev'd
At th' wound that CERDON had receiv'd,
Ran to relieve him with his lore, 695
And cure the hurt he gave before.
Mean while the Knight had wheel'd about,
To breathe himself, and next find out
Th' advantage of the ground, where best
He might the ruffled foe infest. 700
This b'ing resolv'd, he spurr'd his steed,
To run at ORSIN with full speed,
While he was busy in the care
Of CERDON'S wound, and unaware:
But he was quick, and had already 705
Unto the part apply'd remedy:
And, seeing th' enemy prepar'd,
Drew up, and stood upon his guard.
Then, like a warrior right expert
And skilful in the martial art, 710
The subtle Knight straight made a halt,
And judg'd it best to stay th' assault,
Until he had reliev'd the Squire,
And then in order to retire;
Or, as occasion should invite, 715
With forces join'd renew the fight.
RALPHO, by this time disentranc'd,
Upon his bum himself advanc'd,
Though sorely bruis'd; his limbs all o'er
With ruthless bangs were stiff and sore. 720
Right fain he would have got upon
His feet again, to get him gone;
When HUDIBRAS to aid him came:

Quoth he (and call'd him by his name,)
Courage! the day at length is ours; 725
And we once more, as conquerors,
Have both the field and honour won:
The foe is profligate, and run.
I mean all such as can; for some
This hand hath sent to their long home; 730
And some lie sprawling on the ground,
With many a gash and bloody wound.
CAESAR himself could never say
He got two victories in a day,
As I have done, that can say, Twice I 735
In one day, Veni, Vidi, Vici.
The foe's so numerous, that we
Cannot so often vincere
As they perire, and yet enow
Be left to strike an after-blow; 740
Then, lest they rally, and once more
Put us to fight the bus'ness o'er,
Get up, and mount thy steed: Dispatch,
And let us both their motions watch.

Quoth RALPH, I should not, if I were 745
In case for action, now be here:
Nor have I turn'd my back, or hang'd
An arse, for fear of being bang'd.
It was for you I got these harms,
Advent'ring to fetch off your arms. 750
The blows and drubs I have receiv'd
Have bruis'd my body, and bereav'd
My limbs of strength. Unless you stoop,
And reach your hand to pull me up,
I shall lie here, and be a prey 755
To those who now are run away.

That thou shalt not, (quoth HUDIBRAS;)
We read, the ancients held it was
More honourable far, servare
Civem, than slay an adversary: 760
The one we oft to-day have done,
The other shall dispatch anon:
And though th' art of a diff'rent Church
I will not leave thee in the lurch.
This said, he jogg'd his good steed nigher, 765
And steer'd him gently toward the Squire;
Then bowing down his body, stretch'd
His hand out, and at RALPHO reach'd;
When TRULLA, whom he did not mind,
Charg'd him like lightening behind. 770
She had been long in search about
MAGNANO'S wound, to find it out;
But could find none, nor where the shot,
That had so startled him, was got
But having found the worst was past, 775
She fell to her own work at last,
The pillage of the prisoners,
Which in all feats of arms was hers;
And now to plunder RALPH she flew,
When HUDIBRAS his hard fate drew 780
To succour him; for, as he bow'd
To help him up, she laid a load
Of blows so heavy, and plac'd so well,
On t'other side, that down he fell.
Yield, scoundrel base, (quoth she,) or die: 785
Thy life is mine and liberty:
But if thou think'st I took thee tardy,
And dar'st presume to be so hardy,
To try thy fortune o'er a-fresh,
I'll wave my title to thy flesh, 790
Thy arms and baggage, now my right;
And if thou hast the heart to try't,
I'll lend thee back thyself a while,
And once more, for that carcass vile,
Fight upon tick. — Quoth HUDIBRAS, 795
Thou offer'st nobly, valiant lass,
And I shall take thee at thy word.
First let me rise and take my sword.
That sword which has so oft this day
Through squadrons of my foes made way, 800
And some to other worlds dispatch'd,
Now with a feeble spinster match'd,
Will blush with blood ignoble stain'd,
By which no honour's to be gain'd.
But if thou'lt take m' advice in this, 805
Consider whilst thou may'st, what 'tis
To interrupt a victor's course,
B' opposing such a trivial force:
For if with conquest I come off,
(And that I shall do sure enough,) 810
Quarter thou canst not have, nor grace,
By law of arms, in such a case;
Both which I now do offer freely.
I scorn (quoth she) thou coxcomb silly,
(Clapping her hand upon her breech, 815
To shew how much she priz'd his speech,)
Quarter or counsel from a foe
If thou can'st force me to it, do.
But lest it should again be said,
When I have once more won thy head, 820
I took thee napping, unprepar'd,
Arm, and betake thee to thy guard.

This said, she to her tackle fell,
And on the Knight let fall a peal
Of blows so fierce, and press'd so home, 825
That he retir'd, and follow'd's bum.
Stand to't (quoth she) or yield to mercy
It is not fighting arsie-versie
Shall serve thy turn. — This stirr'd his spleen
More than the danger he was in, 830
The blows he felt, or was to feel,
Although th' already made him reel.
Honour, despight; revenge and shame,
At once into his stomach came,
Which fir'd it so, he rais'd his arm 835
Above his head, and rain'd a storm
Of blows so terrible and thick,
As if he meant to hash her quick.
But she upon her truncheon took them,
And by oblique diversion broke them, 840
Waiting an opportunity
To pay all back with usury;
Which long she fail'd not of; for now
The Knight with one dead-doing blow
Resolving to decide the fight, 845
And she, with quick and cunning slight,
Avoiding it, the force and weight
He charged upon it was so great,
As almost sway'd him to the ground.
No sooner she th' advantage found, 850
But in she flew; and seconding
With home-made thrust the heavy swing,
She laid him flat upon his side;
And mounting on his trunk a-stride,
Quoth she, I told thee what would come 855
Of all thy vapouring, base scum.
Say, will the law of arms allow
I may have grace and quarter now?
Or wilt thou rather break thy word,
And stain thine honour than thy sword? 860
A man of war to damn his soul,
In basely breaking his parole
And when, before the fight, th' had'st vow'd
To give no quarter in cold blood
Now thou hast got me for a Tartar, 865
To make me 'gainst my will take quarter;
Why dost not put me to the sword,
But cowardly fly from thy word?

Quoth HUDIBRAS, The day's thine own:
Thou and thy Stars have cast me down: 870
My laurels are transplanted now,
And flourish on thy conqu'ring brow:
My loss of honour's great enough,
Thou need'st not brand it with a scoff:
Sarcasms may eclipse thine own, 875
But cannot blur my lost renown.
I am not now in Fortune's power;
He that is down can fall no lower.
The ancient heroes were illustrious
For being benign, and not blustrous, 880
Against a vanquish'd foe: their swords
Were sharp and trenchant, not their words;
And did in fight but cut work out
To employ their courtesies about.

Quoth she, Although thou hast deserv'd 885
Base slubberdegullion, to be serv'd
As thou did'st vow to deal with me,
If thou had'st got the victory
Yet I shall rather act a part
That suits my fame than thy desert. 890
Thy arms, thy liberty, beside
All that's on th' outside of thy hide,
Are mine by military law,
Of which I will not hate one straw:
The rest, thy life and limbs, once more, 895
Though doubly forfeit, I restore,

Quoth HUDIBRAS, It is too late
For me to treat or stipulate
What thou command'st, I must obey:
Yet those whom I expugn'd to-day 900
Of thine own party, I let go,
And gave them life and freedom too:
Both dogs and bear, upon their parole,
Whom I took pris'ners in this quarrel.

Quoth TRULLA, Whether thou or they 905
Let one another run away,
Concerns not me; but was't not thou
That gave CROWDERO quarter too?
CROWDERO, whom, in irons bound,
Thou basely threw'st into LOB'S Pound, 910
Where still he lies, and with regret
His gen'rous bowels rage and fret.
But now thy carcass shall redeem,
And serve to be exchang'd for him.

This said, the Knight did straight submit, 915
And laid his weapons at her feet.
Next he disrob'd his gaberdine,
And with it did himself resign.
She took it, and forthwith divesting
The mantle that she wore, said jesting, 920
Take that, and wear it for my sake
Then threw it o'er his sturdy back,
And as <s> the FRENCH, we conquer'd once,
Now give us laws for pantaloons,
The length of breeches, and the gathers, 925
Port-cannons, perriwigs, and feathers;
Just so the proud insulting lass
Array'd and dighted HUDIBRAS.

Mean while the other champions, yerst
In hurry of the fight disperst, 930
Arriv'd, when TRULLA won the day,
To share in th' honour and the prey,
And out of HUDIBRAS his hide
With vengeance to be satisfy'd;
Which now they were about to pour 935
Upon him in a wooden show'r;
But TRULLA thrust herself between,
And striding o'er his back agen,
She brandish'd o'er her head his sword,
And vow'd they should not break her word; 940
Sh' had giv'n him quarter, and her blood
Or theirs should make that quarter good;
For she was bound by law of arms
To see him safe from further harms.
In dungeon deep CROWDERO, cast 945
By HUDIBRAS, as yet lay fast;
Where, to the hard and ruthless stones,
His great heart made perpetual moans:
Him she resolv'd that HUDIBRAS
Should ransom, and supply his place. 950

This stopt their fury, and the basting
Which toward HUDIBRAS was hasting.
They thought it was but just and right,
That what she had atchiev'd in fight,
She should dispose of how she pleas'd. 955
CROWDERO ought to be releas'd;
Nor could that any way be done
So well as this she pitch'd upon
For who a better could imagine
This therefore they resolv'd t'engage in. 960
The Knight and Squire first they made
Rise from the ground, where they were laid
Then mounted both upon their horses,
But with their faces to the arses,
ORSIN led HUDIBRAS's beast, 965
And TALGOL that which RALPHO prest,
Whom stout MAGNANO, valiant CERDON,
And COLON, waited as a guard on;
All ush'ring TRULLA in the rear,
With th' arms of either prisoner. 970
In this proud order and array
They put themselves upon their way,
Striving to reach th' enchanted castle,
Where stout CROWDERO in durance lay still.
Thither with greater speed than shows 975
And triumph over conquer'd foes
Do use t' allow, or than the bears
Or pageants borne before Lord-Mayors
Are wont to use, they soon arriv'd
In order, soldier-like contriv'd; 980
Still marching in a warlike posture,
As fit for battle as for muster.
The Knight and Squire they first unhorse,
And bending 'gainst the fort their force,
They all advanc'd, and round about 985
Begirt the magical redoubt.
MAGNAN led up in this adventure,
And made way for the rest to enter;
For he was skilful in black art.
No less than he that built the fort; 990
And with an iron mace laid flat
A breach, which straight all enter'd at,
And in the wooden dungeon found
CROWDERO laid upon the ground.
Him they release from durance base, 995
Restor'd t' his fiddle and his case,
And liberty, his thirsty rage
With luscious vengeance to asswage:
For he no sooner was at large,
But TRULLA straight brought on the charge, 1000
And in the self-same limbo put
The Knight and Squire where he was shut;
Where leaving them in Hockley i' th' Hole,
Their bangs and durance to condole,
Confin'd and conjur'd into narrow 1005
Enchanted mansion to know sorrow,
In the same order and array
Which they advanc'd, they march'd away.
But HUDIBRAS who scorn'd to stoop
To Fortune, or be said to droop, 1010
Chear'd up himself with ends of verse,
And sayings of philosophers.

Quoth he, Th' one half of man, his mind,
Is, sui juris, unconfin'd,
And cannot be laid by the heels, 1015
Whate'er the other moiety feels.
'Tis not restraint or liberty
That makes men prisoners or free;
But perturbations that possess
The mind, or aequanimities. 1020
The whole world was not half so wide
To ALEXANDER, when he cry'd,
Because he had but one to subdue,
As was a paltry narrow tub to
DIOGENES; who is not said 1025
(For aught that ever I could read)
To whine, put finger i' th' eye, and sob,
Because h' had ne'er another tub.
The ancients make two sev'ral kinds
Of prowess in heroic minds; 1030
The active, and the passive valiant;
Both which are pari libra gallant:
For both to give blows, and to carry,
In fights are equinecessary
But in defeats, the passive stout 1035
Are always found to stand it out
Most desp'rately, and to out-do
The active 'gainst the conqu'ring foe.
Tho' we with blacks and blues are suggill'd,
Or, as the vulgar say, are cudgell'd; 1040
He that is valiant, and dares fight,
Though drubb'd, can lose no honour by't.
Honour's a lease for lives to come,
And cannot be extended from
The legal tenant: 'tis a chattel 1045
Not to be forfeited in battel.
If he that in the field is slain,
Be in the bed of Honour lain,
He that is beaten, may be said
To lie in Honour's truckle-bed. 1050
For as we see th' eclipsed sun
By mortals is more gaz'd upon,
Than when, adorn'd with all his light,
He shines in serene sky most bright:
So valour, in a low estate, 1055
Is most admir'd and wonder'd at.

Quoth RALPH, How great I do not know
We may by being beaten grow;
But none, that see how here we sit,
Will judge us overgrown with wit. 1060
As gifted brethren, preaching by
A carnal hour-glass, do imply,
Illumination can convey
Into them what they have to say,
But not how much; so well enough 1065
Know you to charge, but not draw off:
For who, without a cap and bauble,
Having subdu'd a bear and rabble,
And might with honour have come off
Would put it to a second proof? 1070
A politic exploit, right fit
For Presbyterian zeal and wit.

Quoth HUDIBRAS, That cuckow's tone,
RALPHO, thou always harp'st upon.
When thou at any thing would'st rail, 1075
Thou mak'st Presbytery the scale
To take the height on't, and explain
To what degree it is prophane
Whats'ever will not with (thy what d'ye call)
Thy light jump right, thou call'st synodical; 1080
As if Presbytery were the standard
To size whats'ever's to he slander'd.
Dost not remember how this day,
Thou to my beard wast bold to say,
That thou coud'st prove bear-baiting equal 1085
With synods orthodox and legal?
Do if thou canst; for I deny't,
And dare thee to 't with all thy light.

Quoth RALPHO, Truly that is no
Hard matter for a man to do, 1090
That has but any guts in 's brains,
And cou'd believe it worth his pains;
But since you dare and urge me to it,
You'll find I've light enough to do it.

Synods are mystical bear-gardens, 1095
Where elders, deputies, church-wardens,
And other members of the court,
Manage the Babylonish sport;
For prolocutor, scribe, and bear-ward,
Do differ only in a mere word; 1100
Both are but sev'ral synagogues
Of carnal men, and bears, and dogs:
Both antichristian assemblies,
To mischief bent far as in them lies:
Both stave and tail with fierce contests; 1105
The one with men, the other beasts.
The diff'rence is, the one fights with
The tongue, the other with the teeth;
And that they bait but bears in this,
In th' other, souls and consciences; 1110
Where Saints themselves are brought to stake
For gospel-light, and conscience sake;
Expos'd to Scribes and Presbyters,
Instead of mastive dogs and curs,
Than whom th' have less humanity; 1115
For these at souls of men will fly.
This to the prophet did appear,
Who in a vision saw a bear,
Prefiguring the beastly rage
Of Church-rule in this latter age; 1120
As is demonstrated at full
By him that baited the <t> Pope's Bull.
Bears nat'rally are beasts of prey,
That live by rapine; so do they.
What are their orders, constitutions, 1125
Church-censures, curses, absolutions,
But' sev'ral mystic chains they make,
To tie poor Christians to the stake,
And then set heathen officers,
Instead of dogs, about their ears? 1130
For to prohibit and dispense;
To find out or to make offence;
Of Hell and Heaven to dispose;
To play with souls at fast and loose;
To set what characters they please, 1135
And mulcts on sin or godliness;
Reduce the Church to gospel-order,
By rapine, sacrilege, and murder;
To make Presbytery supreme,
And Kings themselves submit to them; 1140
And force all people, though against
Their consciences, to turn Saints;
Must prove a pretty thriving trade,
When Saints monopolists are made;
When pious frauds, and holy shifts, 1145
Are dispensations and gifts,
Their godliness becomes mere ware,
And ev'ry Synod but a fair.
Synods are whelps of th' Inquisition,
A mungrel breed of like pernicion, 1150
And growing up, became the sires
Of scribes, commissioners, and triers;
Whose bus'ness is, by cunning slight,
To cast a figure for mens' light;
To find, in lines of beard and face, 1155
The physiognomy of grace;
And by the sound and twang of nose,
If all be sound within disclose,
Free from a crack or flaw of sinning,
As men try pipkins by the ringing; 1160
By black caps underlaid with white,
Give certain guess at inward light.
Which serjeants at the gospel wear,
To make the spiritual calling clear;
The handkerchief about the neck 1165
(Canonical cravat of SMECK,
From whom the institution came,
When Church and State they set on flame,
And worn by them as badges then
Of spiritual warfaring men) 1170
Judge rightly if regeneration
Be of the newest cut in fashion.
Sure 'tis an orthodox opinion,
That grace is founded in dominion.
Great piety consists in pride; 1175
To rule is to be sanctified:
To domineer, and to controul,
Both o'er the body and the soul,
Is the most perfect discipline
Of church-rule, and by right-divine. 1180
Bell and the Dragon's chaplains were
More moderate than these by far:
For they (poor knaves) were glad to cheat,
To get their wives and children meat;
But these will not be fobb'd off so; 1185
They must have wealth and power too,
Or else with blood and desolation
They'll tear it out o' th' heart o' th' nation.
Sure these themselves from primitive
And Heathen Priesthood do derive, 1190
When butchers were the only Clerks,
Elders and Presbyters of Kirks;
Whose directory was to kill;
And some believe it is so still.
The only diff'rence is, that then 1195
They slaughter'd only beasts, now men.
For then to sacrifice a bullock,
Or now and then a child to Moloch,
They count a vile abomination,
But not to slaughter a whole nation. 1200
Presbytery does but translate
The Papacy to a free state;
A commonwealth of Popery,
Where ev'ry village is a See
As well as Rome, and must maintain 1205
A Tithe-pig Metropolitan;
Where ev'ry Presbyter and Deacon
Commands the keys for cheese and bacon;
And ev'ry hamlet's governed
By's Holiness, the Church's Head; 1210
More haughty and severe in's place,
Than GREGORY or BONIFACE.
Such Church must (surely) be a monster
With many heads: for if we conster
What in th' Apocalypse we find, 1215
According to th' Apostle's mind,
'Tis that the Whore of Babylon
With many heads did ride upon;
Which heads denote the sinful tribe
Of Deacon, Priest, Lay-Elder, Scribe. 1220

Lay-Elder, SIMEON to LEVI,
Whose little finger is as heavy
As loins of patriarchs, prince-prelate,
And bishop-secular. This zealot
Is of a mungrel, diverse kind; 1225
Cleric before, and lay behind;
A lawless linsie-woolsie brother,
Half of one order, half another;
A creature of amphibious nature;
On land a beast, a fish in water; 1230
That always preys on grace or sin;
A sheep without, a wolf within.
This fierce inquisitor has chief
Dominion over men's belief
And manners: can pronounce a Saint 1235
Idolatrous or ignorant,
When superciliously he sifts
Through coarsest boulter others' gifts;
For all men live and judge amiss,
Whose talents jump not just with his. 1240
He'll lay on gifts with hands, and place
On dullest noddle Light and Grace,
The manufacture of the Kirk.
Those pastors are but th' handy-work
Of his mechanic paws, instilling 1245
Divinity in them by feeling;
From whence they start up Chosen Vessels,
Made by contact, as men get meazles.
<x> So Cardinals, they say, do grope
At th' other end the new-made Pope. 1250

Hold, hold, quoth HUDIBRAS; soft fire,
They say, does make sweet malt. Good Squire,
Festina lente, not too fast;
For haste (the proverb says) makes waste.
The quirks and cavils thou dost make 1255
Are false, and built upon mistake:
And I shall bring you, with your pack
Of fallacies, t' elenchi back;
And put your arguments in mood
And figure to be understood. 1260
I'll force you, by right ratiocination,
To leave your <y> vitilitigation,
And make you keep to th' question close,
And argue dialecticos.

The question then, to state it first, 1265
Is, Which is better, or which worst,
Synods or Bears? Bears I avow
To be the worst, and Synods thou.
But, to make good th' assertion,
Thou say'st th' are really all one. 1270
If so, not worst; for if th' are idem
Why then, tantundem dat tantidem.
For if they are the same, by course,
Neither is better, neither worse.
But I deny they are the same, 1275
More than a maggot and I am.
That both are animalia
I grant, but not rationalia:
For though they do agree in kind,
Specific difference we find; 1280
And can no more make bears of these,
Than prove my horse is SOCRATES.
That Synods are bear-gardens too,
Thou dost affirm; but I say no:
And thus I prove it in a word; 1285
Whats'ver assembly's not impow'r'd
To censure, curse, absolve, and ordain,
Can be no Synod: but bear-garden
Has no such pow'r; ergo, 'tis none:
And so thy sophistry's o'erthrown. 1290

But yet we are beside the question
Which thou didst raise the first contest on;
For that was, Whether Bears are better
Than Synod-men? I say, Negatur.
That bears are beasts, and synods men, 1295
Is held by all: they're better then:
For bears and dogs on four legs go,
As beasts, but Synod-men on two.
'Tis true, they all have teeth and nails;
But prove that Synod-men have tails; 1300
Or that a rugged, shaggy fur
Grows o'er the hide of Presbyter;
Or that his snout and spacious ears
Do hold proportion with a bear's.
A bears a savage beast, of all 1305
Most ugly and unnatural
Whelp'd without form, until the dam
Has lick'd it into shape and frame:
But all thy light can ne'er evict,
That ever Synod-man was lick'd; 1310
Or brought to any other fashion,
Than his own will and inclination.
But thou dost further yet in this
Oppugn thyself and sense; that is,
Thou would'st have Presbyters to go 1315
For bears and dogs, and bearwards too;
A strange chimera of beasts and men,
Made up of pieces heterogene;
Such as in nature never met
In eodem subjecto yet. 1320
Thy other arguments are all
Supposures, hypothetical,
That do but beg, and we may chose
Either to grant them, or refuse.
Much thou hast said, which I know when 1325
And where thou stol'st from other men,
Whereby 'tis plain thy Light and Gifts
Are all but plagiary shifts;
And is the same that Ranter said,
Who, arguing with me, broke my head, 1330
And tore a handful of my beard:
The self-same cavils then I heard,
When, b'ing in hot dispute about
This controversy, we fell out
And what thou know'st I answer'd then, 1335
Will serve to answer thee agen.

Quoth RALPHO, Nothing but th' abuse
Of human learning you produce;
Learning, that cobweb of the brain,
Profane, erroneous, and vain; 1340
A trade of knowledge, as replete
As others are with fraud and cheat;
An art t'incumber gifts and wit,
And render both for nothing fit;
Makes Light unactive, dull, and troubled, 1345
Like little DAVID in SAUL's doublet;
A cheat that scholars put upon
Other mens' reason and their own;
A fort of error, to ensconce
Absurdity and ignorance, 1350
That renders all the avenues
To truth impervious and abstruse,
By making plain things, in debate,
By art, perplex'd, and intricate
For nothing goes for sense or light 1355
That will not with old rules jump right:
As if rules were not in the schools
Deriv'd from truth, but truth from rules.
This pagan, heathenish invention
Is good for nothing but contention. 1360
For as, in sword-and-buckler fight,
All blows do on the target light;
So when men argue, the great'st part
O' th' contests falls on terms of art,
Until the fustian stuff be spent, 1365
And then they fall to th' argument.

Quoth HUDIBRAS Friend RALPH, thou hast
Out-run the constable at last:
For thou art fallen on a new
Dispute, as senseless as untrue, 1370
But to the former opposite
And contrary as black to white;
Mere <z> disparata; that concerning
Presbytery; this, human learning;
Two things s'averse, they never yet 1375
But in thy rambling fancy met.
But I shall take a fit occasion
T' evince thee by ratiocination,
Some other time, in place more proper
Than this we're in; therefore let's stop here, 1380
And rest our weary'd bones a-while,
Already tir'd with other toil.

NOTES TO PART I. CANTO III.

134 p First TRULLA stav'd, &c.] Staving and Tailing are terms of art used in the Bear-Garden, and signify there only the parting of dogs and bears: Though they are used metaphorically in several other professions, for moderating; as law, divinity, hectoring, &c.

153 q Or like the late corrected leathern Ears of the Circumcised Brethren. Pryn, Bastwick, and Burton, who laid down their ears as proxies for their profession of the godly party, not long after maintained their right and title to the pillory to be as good and lawful as theirs who first of all took possession of it in their names.

328 r That old, &c.] Pygmalion, king of Tyre, was the son of Margenus, or Mechres, whom he succeeded, and lived 56 years, wherof he reigned 47. Dido, his sister, was to have governed with him, but it was pretended the subjects thought it not convenient. She married Sichaeus, who was the king's uncle, and very rich; wherefore he put him to death; and Dido soon after departed the kingdom. Poets say, Pygmalion was punished for the hatred he bore to women with the love he had to a statue.

925 s And as the FRENCH we conquer'd once, Now give us Laws for PANTALOONS, &c. Pantaloons and Port-Cannons were some of the fantastick fashions wherein we aped the French.

At quisquis Insula satus Britannica
Sic patria insolens fastidiet suam,
Ut more simiae laboret fingere,
Et aemulari Gallicas ineptias,
Et omni Gallo ego hunc opinor ebrium;
Ergo ex Britanno, ut Gallus esse nititur,
Sic Dii jubete, fiat ex Galle Capus.

THOMAS MORE.

Gallus is a river in Phrygia; rising out of the mountains of Celenae, and discharging itself into the river Sanger, the water of which is of that admirable quality, that, being moderately drank, it purges the brain, and cures madness; but largely drank, it makes men frantick. Pliny, Horatius.

1123 t A learned divine in King James's time wrote a polemick work against the Pope, and gave it that unlucky nick-name of The Pope's Bull baited.

1166 u Canonical Cravat, &c.] Smectymnuus was a club of five parlimentary holders-forth; the characters of whose names and talents were by themselves expressed in that senseless and insignificant word. They wore handkerchiefs about their necks for a mark of distinction (as the Officers of the Parliament Army then did) which afterwards degenerated into carnal cravats. About the beginning of the long Parliament, in the year 1641, these five wrote a book against Episcopacy and the Common Prayer, to which they all subscribed their names; being Stephen Marshal, Edmund Calamy, Thomas Young, Matthew Newcomen, and William Spurstow, and from thence they and their followers were called Smectymnians. They are remarkable for another pious book, which they wrote some time after that, intitled, The Kings Cabinet unlocked, wherein all the chaste and endearing expressions, in the letters that passed betwixt his Majesty King Charles I. and his Royal Consort are by these painful labourers in the Devil's vineyard turned into burlesque and ridicule. Their books were answered with as much calmness and genteelness of expression, and as much learning and honesty, b. the Rev. Mr. Symonds, then a deprived clergyman, as theirs was stuffed with malice, spleen, and rascally invectives.

1249 x So Cardinals they say do grope At t'other end the new-made Pope. This relates to the story of Pope Joan, who was called John VIII. Platina saith she was of English extraction, but born at Mentz; who, having disguised herself like a man, travelled with her paramour to Athens, where she made such progress in learning, that coming to Rome, she met with few that could equal her; so that, on the death of Pope Leo IV. she was chosen to succeed him; but being got with child by one of her domesticks, her travail came upon her between the Colossian Theatre and St. Clement's, as she was going to the Lateran Church, and died upon the place, having sat two years, one month, and four days, and was buried there without any pomp. He owns that, for the shame of this, the Popes decline going through this street to the Lateran; and that, to avoid the like error, when any Pope is placed in the Porphyry Chair, his genitals are felt by the youngest deacon, through a hole made for that purpose; but he supposes the reason of that to he, to put him in mind that he is a man, and obnoxious to the necessities of nature; whence he will have the seat to be called, Sedes Stercoraria.

1262 y To leave your Vitiligation, &c.] Vitilitigation is a word the Knight was passionately in love with, and never failed to use it upon all occasions; and therefore to omit it, when it fell in the way, bad argued too great a neglect of his learning and parts; though it means no more than a perverse humour of wrangling.

1373 z Mere Disparata, &c.] Disparata are things separate and unlike, from the Latin word Disparo.

PART II

CANTO I

THE ARGUMENT.

————————————————————————-
The Knight by damnable Magician,
Being cast illegally in prison,
Love brings his Action on the Case.
And lays it upon Hudibras.
How he receives the Lady's Visit,
And cunningly solicits his Suite,
Which she defers; yet on Parole
Redeems him from th' inchanted Hole.
————————————————————————-

But now, t'observe a romantic method,
Let bloody steel a while be sheathed,
And all those harsh and rugged sounds
Of bastinadoes, cuts, and wounds,
Exchang'd to Love's more gentle stile, 5
To let our reader breathe a while;
In which, that we may be as brief as
Is possible, by way of preface,
Is't not enough to make one strange,
That some men's fancies should ne'er change, 10
But make all people do and say
The same things still the self-same way
Some writers make all ladies purloin'd,
And knights pursuing like a whirlwind
Others make all their knights, in fits 15
Of jealousy, to lose their wits;
Till drawing blood o'th' dames, like witches,
Th' are forthwith cur'd of their capriches.
Some always thrive in their amours
By pulling plaisters off their sores; 20
As cripples do to get an alms,
Just so do they, and win their dames.
Some force whole regions, in despight
O' geography, to change their site;
Make former times shake hands with latter, 25
And that which was before, come after.
But those that write in rhime, still make
The one verse for the other's sake;
For, one for sense, and one for rhime,
I think's sufficient at one time. 30

But we forget in what sad plight
We whilom left the captiv'd Knight
And pensive Squire, both bruis'd in body,
And conjur'd into safe custody.
Tir'd with dispute and speaking Latin, 35
As well as basting and bear-baiting,
And desperate of any course,
To free himself by wit or force,
His only solace was, that now
His dog-bolt fortune was so low, 40
That either it must quickly end
Or turn about again, and mend;
In which he found th' event, no less
Than other times beside his guess.

There is a tall long sided dame 45
(But wond'rous light,) ycleped Fame
That, like a thin camelion, boards
Herself on air, and eats her words;
Upon her shoulders wings she wears
Like hanging-sleeves, lin'd through with ears, 50
And eyes, and tongues, as poets list,
Made good by deep mythologist,
With these she through the welkin flies,
And sometimes carries truth, oft lies
With letters hung like eastern pigeons, 55
And Mercuries of furthest regions;
Diurnals writ for regulation
Of lying, to inform the nation;
And by their public use to bring down
The rate of whetstones in the kingdom. 60
About her neck a pacquet-male,
Fraught with advice, some fresh, some stale,
Of men that walk'd when they were dead,
And cows of monsters brought to bed;
Of hail-stones big as pullets eggs, 65
And puppies whelp'd with twice two legs;
A blazing star seen in the west,
By six or seven men at least.
Two trumpets she does sound at once,
But both of clean contrary tones; 70
But whether both with the same wind,
Or one before, and one behind,
We know not; only this can tell,
The one sounds vilely, th' other well;
And therefore vulgar authors name 75
Th' one Good, the other Evil, Fame.

This tattling gossip knew too well
What mischief HUDIBRAS befell.
And straight the spiteful tidings bears
Of all to th' unkind widow's ears. 80
DEMOCRITUS ne'er laugh'd so loud
To see bawds carted through the crowd,
Or funerals with stately pomp
March slowly on in solemn dump,
As she laugh'd out, until her back, 85
As well as sides, was like to crack.
She vow'd she would go see the sight,
And visit the distressed Knight;
To do the office of a neighbour,
And be a gossip at his labour; 90
And from his wooden jail, the stocks,
To set at large his fetter-locks;
And, by exchange, parole, or ransom,
To free him from th' enchanted mansion.
This b'ing resolv'd, she call'd for hood 95
And usher, implements abroad
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. 100
And 'twas not long before she found
Him, and the stout Squire, in the pound;
Both coupled in enchanted tether,
By further leg behind together
For as he sat upon his rump, 105
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 jowl; 110
She came upon him in his wooden
Magician's circle on the sudden,
As spirits do t' a conjurer,
When in their dreadful shapes th' appear.

No sooner did the Knight perceive her, 115
But straight he fell into a fever,
Inflam'd all over with disgrace,
To be seen by her in such a place;
Which made him hang his head, and scoul,
And wink, and goggle like an owl. 120
He felt his brains begin to swim,
When thus the dame accosted him:

This place (quoth she) they say's enchanted,
And with delinquent spirits haunted,
That here are ty'd in chains, and scourg'd, 125
Until their guilty crimes be purg'd.
Look, there are two of them appear,
Like persons I have seen somewhere.
Some have mistaken blocks and posts
For spectres, apparitions, ghosts, 130
With saucer eyes, and horns; and some
Have heard the Devil beat a drum:
But if our eyes are not false glasses,
That give a wrong account of faces,
That beard and I should be acquainted, 135
Before 'twas conjur'd or enchanted;
For though it be disfigur'd somewhat,
As if 't had lately been in combat,
It did belong to a worthy Knight
Howe'er this goblin has come by't. 140

When HUDIBRAS the Lady heard
Discoursing thus upon his beard,
And speak with such respect and honour,
Both of the beard and the beard's owner,
He thought it best to set as good 145
A face upon it as he cou'd,
And thus he spoke: Lady, your bright
And radiant eyes are in the right:
The beard's th' identic beard you knew,
The same numerically true: 150
Nor is it worn by fiend or elf,
But its proprietor himself.

O, heavens! quoth she, can that be true?
I do begin to fear 'tis you:
Not by your individual whiskers, 155
But by your dialect and discourse,
That never spoke to man or beast
In notions vulgarly exprest.
But what malignant star, alas
Has brought you both to this sad pass? 160

Quoth he, The fortune of the war,
Which I am less afflicted for,
Than to be seen with beard and face,
By you in such a homely case.
Quoth she, Those need not he asham'd 165
For being honorably maim'd,
If he that is in battle conquer'd,
Have any title to his own beard;
Though yours be sorely lugg'd and torn,
It does your visage more adorn 170
Than if 'twere prun'd, and starch'd, and lander'd,
And cut square by the Russian standard.
A torn beard's like a tatter'd ensign,
That's bravest which there are most rents in.
That petticoat about your shoulders 175
Does not so well become a souldier's;
And I'm afraid they are worse handled
Although i' th' rear; your beard the van led;
And those uneasy bruises make
My heart for company to ake, 180
To see so worshipful a friend
I' th' pillory set, at the wrong end.

Quoth HUDIBRAS, This thing call'd pain
Is (as the learned Stoicks maintain)
Not bad simpliciter, nor good, 185
But merely as 'tis understood.
Sense is deceitful, and may feign,
As well in counterfeiting pain
As other gross phenomenas,
In which it oft mistakes the case. 190
But since the immortal intellect
(That's free from error and defect,
Whose objects still persist the same)
Is free from outward bruise and maim,
Which nought external can expose 195
To gross material bangs or blows,
It follows, we can ne'er be sure,
Whether we pain or not endure;
And just so far are sore and griev'd,
As by the fancy is believ'd. 200
Some have been wounded with conceit,
And dy'd of mere opinion straight;
Others, tho' wounded sore in reason,
Felt no contusion, nor discretion.
A Saxon Duke did grow so fat, 205
That mice (as histories relate)
Eat grots and labyrinths to dwell in
His postick parts without his feeling:
Then how is't possible a kick
Should e'er reach that way to the quick? 210

Quoth she, I grant it is in vain.
For one that's basted to feel pain,
Because the pangs his bones endure
Contribute nothing to the cure:
Yet honor hurt, is wont to rage 215
With pain no med'cine can asswage.

Quoth he, That honour's very squeamish
That takes a basting for a blemish;
For what's more hon'rable than scars,
Or skin to tatters rent in wars? 220
Some have been beaten till they know
What wood a cudgel's of by th' blow;
Some kick'd until they can feel whether
A shoe be Spanish or neat's leather;
And yet have met, after long running, 225
With some whom they have taught that cunning.
The furthest way about t' o'ercome,
In the end does prove the nearest home.
By laws of learned duellists,
They that are bruis'd with wood or fists, 230
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, 235
Our princes worship, with a blow.
King PYRRHUS cur'd his splenetic
And testy courtiers with a kick.
The NEGUS, when some mighty lord
Or potentate's to be restor'd 240
And pardon'd for some great offence,
With which be's willing to dispense,
First has him laid upon his belly,
Then beaten back and side to a jelly;
That done, he rises, humbly bows, 245
And gives thanks for the princely blows;
Departs not meanly proud, and boasting
Of this magnificent rib-roasting.
The beaten soldier proves most manful,
That, like his sword, endures the anvil, 250
And justly's held more formidable,
The more his valour's malleable:
But he that fears a bastinado
Will run away from his own shadow:
And though I'm now in durance fast, 255
By our own party basely cast,
Ransom, exchange, parole refus'd,
And worse than by the enemy us'd;
In close catasta shut, past hope
Of wit or valour to elope; 260
As beards the nearer that they tend
To th' earth still grow more reverend;
And cannons shoot the higher pitches,
The lower we let down their breeches;
I'll make this low dejected fate 265
Advance me to a greater height.

Quoth she, Y' have almost made me in love
With that which did my pity move.
Great wits and valours, like great states,
Do sometimes sink with their own weights:
Th' extremes of glory and of shame, 270
Like East and West, become the same:
No Indian Prince has to his palace
More foll'wers than a thief to th' gallows,
But if a beating seem so brave, 275
What glories must a whipping have
Such great atchievements cannot fail
To cast salt on a woman's tail:
For if I thought your nat'ral talent
Of passive courage were so gallant, 280
As you strain hard to have it thought,
I could grow amorous, and dote.

When HUDIBRAS this language heard,
He prick'd up's ears and strok'd his beard;
Thought he, this is the lucky hour; 285
Wines work when vines are in the flow'r;
This crisis then I'll set my rest on,
And put her boldly to the question.

Madam, what you wou'd seem to doubt,
Shall be to all the world made out, 290
How I've been drubb'd, and with what spirit
And magnanimity I bear it;
And if you doubt it to be true,
I'll stake myself down against you:
And if I fail in love or troth, 295
Be you the winner, and take both.

Quoth she, I've beard old cunning stagers
Say, fools for arguments use wagers;
And though I prais'd your valour, yet
I did not mean to baulk your wit; 300
Which, if you have, you must needs know
What I have told you before now,
And you b' experiment have prov'd,
I cannot love where I'm belov'd.

Quoth HUDIBRAS, 'tis a caprich 305
Beyond th' infliction of a witch;
So cheats to play with those still aim
That do not understand the game.
Love in your heart as icily burns
As fire in antique Roman urns, 310
To warm the dead, and vainly light
Those only that see nothing by't.
Have you not power to entertain,
And render love for love again;
As no man can draw in his breath 315
At once, and force out air beneath?
Or do you love yourself so much,
To bear all rivals else a grutch?
What fate can lay a greater curse
Than you upon yourself would force? 320
For wedlock without love, some say,
Is but a lock without a key.
It is a kind of rape to marry
One that neglects, or cares not for ye:
For what does make it ravishment, 325
But b'ing against the mind's consent?
A rape that is the more inhuman
For being acted by a woman.
Why are you fair, but to entice us
To love you, that you may despise us? 330
But though you cannot Love, you say,
Out of your own fanatick way,
Why should you not at least allow
Those that love you to do so too?
For, as you fly me, and pursue 330
Love more averse, so I do you;
And am by your own doctrine taught
To practise what you call a fau't.

Quoth she, If what you say is true,
You must fly me as I do you; 340
But 'tis not what we do, but say,
In love and preaching, that must sway.

Quoth he, To bid me not to love,
Is to forbid my pulse to move,
My beard to grow, my ears to prick up, 345
Or (when I'm in a fit) to hickup:
Command me to piss out the moon,
And 'twill as easily be done:
Love's power's too great to be withstood
By feeble human flesh and blood. 350
'Twas he that brought upon his knees
The hect'ring, kill-cow HERCULES;
Transform'd his leager-lion's skin
T' a petticoat, and made him spin;
Seiz'd on his club, and made it dwindle 355
T' a feeble distaff, and a spindle.
'Twas he that made emperors gallants
To their own sisters and their aunts;
Set popes and cardinals agog,
To play with pages at leap-frog. 360
'Twas he that gave our Senate purges,
And flux'd the House of many a burgess;
Made those that represent the nation
Submit, and suffer amputation;
And all the Grandees o' the Cabal 365
Adjourn to tubs at Spring and Fall.
He mounted Synod-Men, and rode 'em
To Dirty-Lane and Little Sodom;
Made 'em curvet like Spanish jenets,
And take the ring at Madam [Bennet's] 370
'Twas he that made Saint FRANCIS do
More than the Devil could tempt him to,
In cold and frosty weather, grow
Enamour'd of a wife of snow;
And though she were of rigid temper, 375
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? 380
Why is't not damn'd and interdicted,
For diabolical and wicked?
And sung, as out of tune, against,
As Turk and Pope are by the Saints?
I find I've greater reason for it, 385
Than I believ'd before t' abhor it.

Quoth HUDIBRAS, These sad effects
Spring from your Heathenish neglects
Of Love's great pow'r, which he returns
Upon yourselves with equal scorns; 390
And those who worthy lovers slight,
Plagues with prepost'rous appetite.
This made the beauteous Queen of Crete
To take a town-bull for her sweet,
And from her greatness stoop so low, 395
To be the rival of a cow:
Others to prostitute their great hearts,
To he baboons' and monkeys' sweet-hearts;
Some with the Dev'l himself in league grow,
By's representative a Negro. 400
'Twas this made vestal-maids love-sick,
And venture to be bury'd quick:
Some by their fathers, and their brothers,
To be made mistresses and mothers.
'Tis this that proudest dames enamours 405
On lacquies and valets des chambres;
Their haughty stomachs overcomes,
And makes 'em stoop to dirty grooms;
To slight the world, and to disparage
Claps, issue, infamy, and marriage. 410

Quoth she, These judgments are severe,
Yet such as I should rather bear,
Than trust men with their oaths, or prove
Their faith and secresy in love,

Says he, There is as weighty reason 415
For secresy in love as treason.
Love is a burglarer, a felon,
That at the windore-eyes does steal in
To rob the heart, and with his prey
Steals out again a closer way, 420
Which whosoever can discover,
He's sure (as he deserves) to suffer.
Love is a fire, that burns and sparkles
In men as nat'rally as in charcoals,
Which sooty chymists stop in holes 425
When out of wood they extract coals:
So lovers should their passions choak,
That, tho' they burn, they may not smoak.
'Tis like that sturdy thief that stole
And dragg'd beasts backwards into's hole: 430
So Love does lovers, and us men
Draws by the tails into his den,
That no impression may discover,
And trace t' his cave, the wary lover,
But if you doubt I should reveal 435
What you entrust me under seal.
I'll prove myself as close and virtuous
As your own secretary ALBERTUS.

Quoth she, I grant you may be close
In hiding what your aims propose. 440
Love-passions are like parables,
By which men still mean something else,
Though love be all the world's pretence,
Money's the mythologick sense;
The real substance of the shadow, 445
Which all address and courtship's made to.

Thought he, I understand your play,
And how to quit you your own way:
He that will win his dame, must do
As Love does when he bends his bow; 450
With one hand thrust the lady from,
And with the other pull her home.
I grant, quoth he, wealth is a great
Provocative to am'rous heat.
It is all philters, and high diet, 455
That makes love rampant, and to fly out:
'Tis beauty always in the flower,
That buds and blossoms at fourscore:
'Tis that by which the sun and moon
At their own weapons are out-done: 460
That makes Knights-Errant fall in trances,
And lay about 'em in romances:
'Tis virtue, wit, and worth, and all
That men divine and sacred call:
For what is worth in any thing, 465
But so much money as 'twill bring?
Or what, but riches is there known,
Which man can solely call his own
In which no creature goes his half;
Unless it be to squint and laugh? 470
I do confess, with goods and land,
I'd have a wife at second-hand;
And such you are. Nor is 't your person
My stomach's set so sharp and fierce on;
But 'tis (your better part) your riches, 475
That my enamour'd heart bewitches.
Let me your fortune but possess,
And settle your person how you please:
Or make it o'er in trust to th' Devil;
You'll find me reasonable and civil. 480

Quoth she, I like this plainness better
Than false mock-passion, speech, or letter,
Or any feat of qualm or sowning,
But hanging of yourself, or drowning.
Your only way with me to break 485
Your mind, is breaking of your neck;
For as when merchants break, o'erthrown,
Like nine-pins they strike others down,
So that would break my heart; which done,
My tempting fortune is your own, 490
These are but trifles: ev'ry lover
Will damn himself over and over,
And greater matters undertake
For a less worthy mistress' sake:
Yet th' are the only ways to prove 495
Th' unfeign'd realities of love:
For he that hangs, or beats out's brains,
The Devil's in him if he feigns.

Quoth HUDIBRAS, This way's too rough
For mere experiment and proof: 500
It is no jesting, trivial matter,
To swing t' th' air, or douce in Water,
And, like a water-witch, try love;
That's to destroy, and not to prove;
As if a man should be dissected 505
To find what part is disaffected.
Your better way is to make over,
In trust, your fortune to your lover.
Trust is a trial; if it break,
'Tis not so desp'rate as a neck. 510
Beside, th' experiment's more certain;
Men venture necks to gain a fortune:
The soldier does it ev'ry day.
(Eight to the week) for sixpence pay:
Your pettifoggers damn their souls, 515
To share with knaves in cheating fools:
And merchants, vent'ring through the main,
Slight pirates, rocks, and horns, for gain.
This is the way I advise you to:
Trust me, and see what I will do. 520

Quoth she, I should be loth to run
Myself all th' hazard, and you none;
Which must be done, unless some deed
Of your's aforesaid do precede.
Give but yourself one gentle swing 525
For trial, and I'll cut the string:
Or give that rev'rend head a maul,
Or two, or three, against a wall,
To shew you are a man of mettle,
And I'll engage myself to settle. 530

Quoth he, My head's not made of brass,
As Friar BACON'S noodle was;
Nor (like the Indian's skull) so tough
That, authors say, 'twas musket-proof,
As yet on any new adventure, 535
As it had need to be, to enter.
You see what bangs it has endur'd,
That would, before new feats, be cur'd.
But if that's all you stand upon,
Here, strike me luck, it shall be done. 540

Quoth she, The matter's not so far gone
As you suppose: Two words t' a bargain:
That may be done, and time enough,
When you have given downright proof;
And yet 'tis no fantastic pique 545
I have to love, nor coy dislike:
'Tis no implicit, nice aversion
T' your conversation, mein, or person,
But a just fear, lest you should prove
False and perfidious in love:, 550
For if I thought you could be true,
I could love twice as much as you.

Quoth he, My faith as adamanatine,
As chains of destiny, I'll maintain:
True as APOLLO ever spoke, 555
Or Oracle from heart of oak;
And if you'll give my flame but vent,
Now in close hugger-mugger pent,
And shine upon me but benignly,
With that one, and that other pigsney, 560
The sun and day shall sooner part,
Than love or you shake off my heart;
The sun, that shall no more dispense
His own but your bright influence.
I'll carve your name on barks of trees, 565
With true-loves-knots and flourishes,
That shall infuse eternal spring,
And everlasting flourishing:
Drink ev'ry letter on't in stum,
And make it brisk champaign become; 570
Where-e'er you tread, your foot shall set
The primrose and the violet:
All spices, perfumes, and sweet powders,
Shall borrow from your breath their odours:
Nature her charter shall renew, 575
And take all lives of things from you;
The world depend upon your eye,
And when you frown upon it, die:
Only our loves shall still survive,
New worlds and natures to out-live: 580
And, like to heralds' moons, remain
All crescents, without change or wane.

Hold, hold, quoth she; no more of this,
Sir Knight; you take your aim amiss:
For you will find it a hard chapter 585
To catch me with poetic rapture,
In which your mastery of art
Doth shew itself, and not your heart:
Nor will you raise in mine combustion
By dint of high heroic fustian. 590
She that with poetry is won,
Is but a desk to write upon;
And what men say of her, they mean
No more than on the thing they lean.
Some with Arabian spices strive 595
T' embalm her cruelly alive;
Or season her, as French cooks use
Their haut-gousts, bouillies, or ragousts:
Use her so barbarously ill,
To grind her lips upon a mill, 600
Until the facet doublet doth
Fit their rhimes rather than her mouth:
Her mouth compar'd to an oyster's, with
A row of pearl in't — stead of teeth.
Others make posies of her cheeks, 605
Where red and whitest colours 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 darken'd in the skies, 610
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 615
Unto her under-world below.
Her voice, the music of the spheres,
So loud, it deafens mortals ears;
As wise philosophers have thought;
And that's the cause we hear it not. 620
This has been done by some, who those
Th' ador'd in rhime, would kick in prose;
And in those ribbons would have hung
On which melodiously they sung;
That have the hard fate to write best 625
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 said;
Only the arrow's drawn to th' bead, 630
Whether it be a 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, 635
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 choose
This way t' attack me with your Muse, 640
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 us'd to prove 645
The readiest remedies of love;
Next a dry-diet: but if those fail,
Yet this uneasy loop-hol'd jail,
In which ye are hamper'd by the fetlock,
Cannot but put y' in mind of wedlock; 650
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:
Or rather thank your gentler fate, 655
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, 660
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 beforehand 665
In that already, with your command
For where does beauty and high wit
But in your constellation meet?

Quoth she, What does a match imply,
But likeness and equality? 670
I know you cannot think me fit
To be th' yoke-fellow of your wit;
Nor take one of so mean deserts,
To be the partner of your parts;
A grace which, if I cou'd believe, 675
I've not the conscience to receive.

That conscience, quoth HUDIBRAS,
Is mis-inform'd: I'll state the case
A man may be a legal donor,
Of any thing whereof he's owner, 680
And may confer it where he lists,
I' th' judgment of all casuists,
Then wit, and parts, and valour, may
Be ali'nated, and made away,
By those that are proprietors, 685
As I may give or sell my horse.

Quoth she, I grant the case is true
And proper 'twixt your horse and you;
But whether I may take as well
As you may give away or sell? 690
Buyers you know are bid beware;
And worse than thieves receivers are.
How shall I answer hue and cry,
For a roan gelding, twelve hands high,
All spurr'd and switch'd, a lock on's hoof, 695
A sorrel mane? Can I bring proof
Where, when, by whom, and what y' were sold for,
And in the open market toll'd for?
Or should I take you for a stray,
You must be kept a year and day 700
(Ere I can own you) here i' the pound,
Where, if y' are sought, you may be found
And in the mean time I must pay
For all your provender and hay.

Quoth he, It stands me much upon 705
T' enervate this objection,
And prove myself; by topic clear
No gelding, as you would infer.
Loss of virility's averr'd
To be the cause of loss of beard, 710
That does (like embryo in the womb)
Abortive on the chin become.
This first a woman did invent,
In envy of man's ornament;
SEMIRAMIS, of Babylon, 715
Who first of all cut men o' th' stone,
To mar their beards, and lay foundation
Of sow-geldering operation.
Look on this beard, and tell me whether
Eunuchs wear such, or geldings either? 720
Next it appears I am no horse;
That I can argue and discourse
Have but two legs, and ne'er a tail.

Quoth she, That nothing will avail
For some philosophers of late here, 725
Write, men have four legs by nature,
And that 'tis custom makes them go
Erron'ously upon but two;
As 'twas in Germany made good
B' a boy that lost himself in a wood, 730
And growing down to a man, was wont
With wolves upon all four to hunt.
As for your reasons drawn from tails,
We cannot say they're true or false,
Till you explain yourself, and show, 735
B' experiment, 'tis so or no.

Quoth he, If you'll join issue on't,
I'll give you satisfactory account;
So you will promise, if you lose,
To settle all, and be my spouse. 740

That never shall be done (quoth she)
To one that wants a tail, by me
For tails by nature sure were meant,
As well as beards, for ornament:
And though the vulgar count them homely, 745
In men or beast they are so comely,
So gentee, alamode, and handsome,
I'll never marry man that wants one;
And till you can demonstrate plain,
You have one equal to your mane, 750
I'll be torn piece-meal by a horse,
Ere I'll take you for better or worse.
The Prince of CAMBAY's daily food
Is asp, and basilisk, and toad;
Which makes him have so strong a breath, 755
Each night he stinks a queen to death;
Yet I shall rather lie in's arms
Than yours, on any other terms.

Quoth he, What nature can afford,
I shall produce, upon my word; 760
And if she ever gave that boon
To man, I'll prove that I have one
I mean by postulate illation,
When you shall offer just occasion:
But since y' have yet deny'd to give 765
My heart, your pris'ner, a reprieve,
But made it sink down to my heel,
Let that at least your pity feel;
And, for the sufferings of your martyr,
Give its poor entertainer quarter; 770
And, by discharge or main-prize, grant
Deliv'ry from this base restraint.

Quoth she, I grieve to see your leg
Stuck in a hole here like a peg;
And if I knew which way to do't 775
(Your honour safe) I'd let you out.
That Dames by jail-delivery
Of Errant-Knights have been set free,
When by enchantment they have been,
And sometimes for it too, laid in, 780
Is that which Knights are bound to do
By order, oath, and honour too:
For what are they renown'd, and famous else,
But aiding of distressed damosels?
But for a Lady no ways errant, 785
To free a Knight, we have no warrant
In any authentical romance,
Or classic author, yet of France;
And I'd be loth to have you break
An ancient custom for a freak, 790
Or innovation introduce
In place of things of antique use;
To free your heels by any course,
That might b' unwholesome to your spurs;
Which, if I should consent unto, 795
It is not in my pow'r to do;
For 'tis a service must be done ye
With solemn previous ceremony;
Which always has been us'd t' untie
The charms of those who here do lie 800
For as the ancients heretofore
To Honour's Temple had no door,
But that which thorough Virtue's lay,
So from this dungeon there's no way
To honour'd freedom, but by passing 805
That other virtuous school of lashing,
Where Knights are kept in narrow lists,
With wooden lockets 'bout their wrists;
In which they for a while are tenants,
And for their Ladies suffer penance: 810
Whipping, that's Virtue's 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, 815
And all the honours of the gown.
This suffer'd, they are set at large,
And freed with hon'rable discharge.
Then in their robes the penitentials
Are straight presented with credentials, 820
And in their way attended on
By magistrates of ev'ry town;
And, all respect and charges paid,
They're to their ancient seats convey'd.
Now if you'll venture, for my sake, 825
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 vigour do't,) 830
I here engage myself to loose ye,
And free your heels from Caperdewsie.
But since our sex's modesty
Will not allow I should be by,
Bring me, on oath, a fair account, 835
And honour too, when you have done'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? 840
What med'cine else can cure the fits
Of lovers when they lose their wits?
Love is a boy by poets stil'd;
Then spare the rod and spoil the child.
A Persian emp'ror whipp'd his grannam 845
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, 850
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 855
Love by, than that which many take.
Who would not rather suffer whipping,
Than swallow toasts of bits of ribbon?
Make wicked verses, treats, and faces,
And spell names over with beer-glasses 860
Be under vows to hang and die
Love's sacrifice, and all a lie?
With china-oranges and tarts
And whinning plays, lay baits for hearts?
Bribe chamber-maids with love and money, 865
To break no roguish jests 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? 870
All this you may compound for now,
By suffering 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 875
For the INFANTA DEL TOBOSO?
Did not th' illustrious Bassa make
Himself a slave for Misse's sake?
And with bull's pizzle, for her love,
Was taw 'd as gentle as a glove? 880
Was not young FLORIO sent (to cool
His flame for BIANCAFIORE) to school,
Where pedant made his pathic bum
For her sake suffer martyrdom?
Did not a certain lady whip 885
Of late her husband's own Lordship?
And though a grandee of the House,
Claw'd him with fundamental blows
Ty'd him stark naked to a bed-post,
And firk'd his hide, as if sh' had rid post 890
And after, in the sessions-court,
Where whipping's judg'd, had honour for't?
This swear you will perform, and then
I'll set you from th' inchanted den,
And the magician's circle clear. 895

Quoth he, I do profess and swear,
And will perform what you enjoin,
Or may I never see you mine.
Amen, (quoth she;) then turn'd about,
And bid her Esquire let him out. 900
But ere an artist could be found
T' undo the charms another bound,
The sun grew low, and left the skies,
Put down (some write) by ladies eyes,
The moon pull'd off her veil of light 905
That hides her face by day from sight,
(Mysterious veil, of brightness made,
That's both her lustre and her shade,)
And in the lanthorn of the night
With shining horns hung out her light; 910
For darkness is the proper sphere,
Where all false glories use t' appear.
The twinkling stars began to muster,
And glitter with their borrow'd lustre,
While sleep the weary 'd world reliev'd, 915
By counterfeiting death reviv'd;
His whipping penance till the morn
Our vot'ry thought it best t' adjourn,
And not to carry on a work
Of such importance in the dark, 920
With erring haste, but rather stay,
And do't in th' open face of day;
And in the mean time go in quest
Of next retreat to take his rest.

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 mens' tempers suit
(Like bawd and brandy) with dispute,
That for their own opinions stand last
Only to have them claw'd and canvast;
That keep their consciences in cases, 5
As fiddlers 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; 10
Dispute, and set a paradox
Like a straight boot upon the stocks,
And stretch it more unmercifully
Than HELMONT, MONTAIGN, WHITE, or TULLY,
So th' ancient <n> Stoicks, in their porch, 15
With fierce dispute maintain'd their church;
Beat out their brains in fight and study,
To prove that Virtue is a Body;
That <o> Bonum is an Animal,
Made good with stout polemic brawl; 20
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, 25
Had like t' have suffered 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, 30
And, like a lobster boil'd, the morn
From black to red began to turn,
When HUDIBRAS, whom thoughts and aking,
'Twixt sleeping kept all night and waking,
Began to rub his drowsy eyes, 35
And from his couch prepar'd to rise,
Resolving to dispatch the deed
He vow'd to do with trusty speed.
But first, with knocking loud, and bawling,
He rouz'd the Squire, in truckle lolling; 40
And, after many circumstances,
Which vulgar authors, in romances,
Do use to spend their time and wits on,
To make impertinent description,
They got (with much ado) to horse, 45
And to the Castle bent their course,
In which he to the Dame before
To suffer whipping duly swore;
Where now arriv'd, and half unharnest,
To carry on the work in earnest, 50
He stopp'd, and paus'd upon the sudden,
And with a serious forehead plodding,
Sprung a new scruple his head,
Which first he scratch'd, and after said —
Whether it be direct infringing 55
An oath, if I should wave this swingeing,
And what I've sworn to bear, forbear,
And so b' equivocation swear,
Or whether it be a lesser sin
To be forsworn than act the thing, 60
Are deep and subtle points, which must,
T' inform my conscience, be discust;
In which to err a tittle may
To errors infinite make way;
And therefore I desire to know 65
Thy judgment e'er we further go.

Quoth Ralpho, Since you do enjoin't,
I shall enlarge upon the point;
And, for my own part, do not doubt
Th' affirmative may be made out, 70
But first, to state the case aright,
For best advantage of our light,
And thus 'tis: Whether 't be a sin
To claw and curry your own skin,
Greater or less, than to forbear, 75
And that you are forsworn, forswear.
But first, o' th' first: The inward man,
And outward, like a clan and clan,
Have always been at daggers-drawing,
And one another clapper-clawing. 80
Not that they really cuff, or fence,
But in a Spiritual Mystick sense;
Which to mistake, and make 'em squabble
In literal fray's abominable.
'Tis heathenish, in frequent use 85
With Pagans and apostate Jews,
To offer sacrifice of bridewells,
Like modern Indians to their idols;
And mongrel Christians of our times,
That expiate less with greater crimes, 90
And call the foul abomination,
Contrition and mortification.
Is 't not enough we're bruis'd and kicked
With sinful members of the wicked,
Our vessels, that are sanctify'd, 95
Prophan'd and curry'd back and side,
But we must claw ourselves with shameful
And heathen stripes, by their example;
Which (were there nothing to forbid it)
Is impious because they did it; 100
This, therefore, may be justly reckon'd
A heinous sin. Now to the second
That Saints may claim a dispensation
To swear and forswear, on occasion,
I doubt not but it will appear 105
With pregnant light: the point is clear.
Oaths are but words, and words but wind;
Too feeble implements to bind;
And hold with deeds proportion so
As shadows to a substance do. 110
Then when they strive for place, 'tis fit
The weaker vessel should submit.
Although your Church be opposite
To ours as Black Friars are to White,
In rule and order, yet I grant, 115
You are a Reformado Saint;
And what the Saints do claim as due,
You may pretend a title to:
But Saints whom oaths and vows oblige,
Know little of their privilege; 120
Further (I mean) than carrying on
Some self-advantage of their own:
For if the Dev'l, to serve his turn,
Can tell troth, why the Saints should scorn,
When it serves theirs, to swear and lye; 125
I think there's little reason why:
Else h' has a greater pow'r than they,
Which 't were impiety to say.
W' are not commanded to forbear
Indefinitely at all to swear; 130
But to swear idly, and in vain,
Without self-interest or gain
For breaking of an oath, and lying,
Is but a kind of self-denying;
A Saint-like virtue: and from hence 135
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 practice
Of all our late Apostles acts is. 140
Was not the cause at first begun
With perjury, and carried on?
Was there an oath the Godly took,
But in due time and place they broke?
Did we not bring our oaths in first, 145
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? 150
For having freed us first from both
Th' Allegiance and Supremacy Oath,
Did they not next compel the Nation
To take and break the Protestation?
To swear, and after to recant 155
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, 160
And after march'd to find him out,
And charg'd him home with horse and foot;
But yet still had the confidence
To swear it was in his defence
Did they not swear to live and die 165
With Essex, and straight 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? 170
For Protestant Religion vow,
That did that vowing disallow?
For Privilege of Parliament,
In which that swearing made a rent?
And since, of all the three, not one 175
Is left in being, 'tis well known.
Did they not swear, in express words,
To prop and back the House of Lords,
And after turn'd out the whole House-full
Of Peers, as dang'rous and unusefull? 180
So CROMWELL, with deep oaths and vows,
Swore all the Commons out o' th' House;
Vow'd that the red-coats would disband,
Ay, marry wou'd they, at their command;
And troll'd them on, and swore, and swore, 185
Till th' army turn'd them out of door.
This tells us plainly what they thought,
That oaths and swearing go for nought,
And that by them th' were only meant
To serve for an expedient. 190
What was the Public Faith found out for,
But to slur men of what they fought for
The Public Faith, which ev'ry one
Is bound t' observe, yet kept by none;
And if that go for nothing, why 195
Should Private Faith have such a tye?
Oaths were not purpos'd more than law,
To keep the good and just in awe,
But to confine the bad and sinful,
Like moral cattle, in a pinfold. 200
A Saint's of th' Heav'nly Realm a Peer;
And as no Peer is bound to swear,
But on the Gospel of his Honour,
Of which he may dispose as owner,
It follows, though the thing be forgery, 205
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. 210
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 mis-interpret them, by private 215
Instructions, to all aims they drive at.
Then why should we ourselves abridge
And curtail our own privilege?
Quakers (that, like to lanthorns, bear
Their light within 'em) will not swear 220
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,) 225
That stirring Hat's held worse than murder.
These thinking th' are oblig'd 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: 230
But they are weak, and little know
What free-born consciences may do.
'Tis the temptation of the Devil
That makes all human actions evil
For Saints may do the same things by 235
The Spirit, in sincerity,
Which other men are tempted to,
And at the Devil's instance do
And yet the actions be contrary,
Just as the Saints and Wicked vary. 240
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 245
The one, in th' other is a sin.
Is't not ridiculous, and nonsense,
A Saint should be a slave to conscience,
That ought to be above such fancies,
As far as above ordinances? 250
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 another's Church,
Yet all of us hold this for true, 255
No Faith is to the wicked due;
For truth is precious and divine;
Too rich a pearl for carnal swine,

Quoth HUDIBRAS, All this is true; 260
Yet 'tis not fit that all men knew,
Those mysteries and revelations,
And therefore topical evasions
Of subtle turns and shifts of sense,
Serve best with th' wicked for pretence,
Such as the learned Jesuits use, 265
And Presbyterians for excuse
Against the Protestants, when th' happen
To find their Churches taken napping:
As thus: A breach of oath is duple,
And either way admits a scruple, 270
And may be, ex parte of the maker
More criminal than th' injur'd taker;
For he that strains too far a vow,
Will break it, like an o'er-bent bow:
And he that made, and forc'd it, broke it, 275
Not he that for convenience took it.
A broken oath is, quatenus oath,
As sound t' all purposes of troth,
As broken laws are ne'er the worse;
Nay, till th' are broken have no force. 280
What's justice to a man, or laws,
That never comes within their claws
They have no pow'r, but to admonish:
Cannot controul, coerce, or punish,
Until they're broken, and then touch 285
Those only that do make 'em such.
Beside, no engagement is allow'd
By men in prison made for good;
For when they're set at liberty,
They're from th' engagement too set free. 290
The rabbins write, when any Jew
Did make to God, or man, a vow,
Which afterward he found untoward,
And stubborn to be kept, or too hard,
Any three other Jews o' th' nation, 295
Might free him from the obligation
And have not two saints pow'r to use
A greater privilege than three Jews?
The court of conscience, which in man
Should be supreme and sovereign, 300
Is't fit should be subordinate
To ev'ry petty court i' the state,
And have less power than the lesser,
To deal with perjury at pleasure?
Have its proceedings disallow'd, or 305
Allow'd, at fancy of Pye-Powder?
Tell all it does, or does not know,
For swearing ex officio?
Be forc'd t' impeach a broken hedge,
And pigs unring'd at Vis. Franc. Pledge? 310
Discover thieves, and bawds, recusants,
Priests, witches, eves-droppers, and nuisance:
Tell who did play at games unlawful,
And who fill'd pots of ale but half-full
And have no pow'r at all, nor shift, 315
To help itself at a dead lift
Why should not conscience have vacation
As well as other courts o' th' nation
Have equal power to adjourn,
Appoint appearance and return; 320
And make as nice distinction serve
To split a case, as those that carve,
Invoking cuckolds' names, hit joints;
Why should not tricks as slight do points
Is not th' High-Court of Justice sworn 325
To judge that law that serves their turn,
Make their own jealousies high-treason,
And fix 'm whomsoe'er they please on?
Cannot the learned counsel there
Make laws in any shape appear? 330
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, 335
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? 340
Can they not juggle, and, with slight
Conveyance, play with wrong and right;
And sell their blasts of wind as dear
As Lapland witches bottled air?
Will not fear, favour, bribe and grudge 345
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, 350
Those banks and dams, that, like a screen,
Did keep it out, now keep it in;
So when tyrannic usurpation
Invades the freedom of a nation,
The laws o' th' land, that were intended 355
To keep it out, are made defend it.
Does 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? 360
For witnesses, like watches, go
Just as they're set, too fast or slow;
And where in conscience they're strait-lac'd,
'Tis ten to one that side is cast.
Do not your juries give their verdict 365
As if they felt the cause, not heard it?
And as they please, make matter of fact
Run all on one side, as they're pack't?
Nature has made man's breast no windores,
To publish what he does within doors, 370
Nor what dark secrets there inhabit,
Unless his own rash folly blab it.
If oaths can do a man no good
In his own bus'ness, why they shou'd
In other matters do him hurt, 375
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? 380
These reasons may, perhaps, look oddly
To th' Wicked, though th' evince the Godly;
But if they will not serve to clear
My honour, I am ne'er the near.
Honour is like that glassy bubble 385
That finds philosophers such trouble,
Whose least part crack't, the whole does fly,
And wits are crack'd to find out why.

Quoth RALPHO, Honour's but a word
To swear by only in a Lord: 390
In other men 'tis but a huff,
To vapour with instead of proof;
That, like a wen, looks big and swells,
Is senseless, and just nothing else.

Let it (quoth he) be what it will, 395
It has the world's opinion still.
But as men are not wise that run
The slightest hazard they may shun,
There may a medium be found out
To clear to all the world the doubt; 400
And that is, if a man may do't,
By proxy whipt, or substitute.

Though nice and dark the point appear,
(Quoth RALPH) it may hold up and clear.
That sinners may supply the place 405
Of suff'ring Saints is a plain case.
Justice gives sentence many times
On one man for another's crimes.

Our brethren of NEW ENGLAND use
Choice malefactors to excuse, 410
And hang the guiltless in their stead,
Of whom the Churches have less need;
As lately 't happen'd: In a town 
There liv'd a cobler, and but one,
That out of doctrine could cut use, 415
And mend men's lives as well as shoes,
This precious brother having slain,
In time of peace, an Indian,
(Not out of malice, but mere zeal,
Because he was an Infidel,) 420
The mighty TOTTIPOTTYMOY
Sent to our elders an envoy,
Complaining sorely of the breach
Of league held forth by brother Patch
Against the articles in force 425
Between both Churches, his and ours
For which he crav'd the Saints to render
Into his hands or hang th' offender
But they maturely having weigh'd,
They had no more but him o' th' trade, 430
(A man that serv'd them in a double
Capacity, to teach and cobble,)
Resolv'd to spare him; yet, to do
The Indian Hoghgan Moghgan too
Impartial justice, in his stead did 435
Hang an old Weaver, that was bed-rid.
Then wherefore way not you be skipp'd,
And in your room another whipp'd?
For all Philosophers, but the Sceptick,
Hold whipping may be sympathetick. 440

It is enough, quoth HUDIBRAS,
Thou hast resolv'd and clear'd the case
And canst, in conscience, not refuse
From thy own doctrine to raise use.
I know thou wilt not (for my sake) 445
Be tender-conscienc'd of thy back.
Then strip thee off thy carnal jerking,
And give thy outward-fellow a ferking;
For when thy vessel is new hoop'd,
All leaks of sinning will be stopp'd. 450

Quoth RALPHO, You mistake the matter;
For in all scruples of this nature,
No man includes himself, nor turns
The point upon his own concerns.
As no man of his own self catches 455
The itch, or amorous French aches
So no man does himself convince,
By his own doctrine, of his sins
And though all cry down self, none means
His ownself in a literal sense. 460
Beside, it is not only foppish,
But vile, idolatrous and Popish,
For one man, out of his own skin,
To ferk and whip another's sin;
As pedants out of school-boys' breeches 465
Do claw and curry their own itches.
But in this case it is prophane,
And sinful too, because in vain;
For we must take our oaths upon it,
You did the deed, when I have done it. 470

Quoth HUDIBRAS, That's answer'd soon
Give us the whip, we'll lay it on.

Quoth RALPHO, That we may swear true,
'Twere properer that I whipp'd you
For when with your consent 'tis done, 475
The act is really your own.

Quoth HUDIBRAS, It is in vain
(I see) to argue 'gainst the grain;
Or, like the stars, incline men to
What they're averse themselves to do: 480
For when disputes are weary'd out,
'Tis interest still resolves the doubt
But since no reason can confute ye,
I'll try to force you to your duty
For so it is, howe'er you mince it; 485
As ere we part, I shall evince it
And curry (if you stand out) whether
You will or no, your stubborn leather.
Canst thou refuse to hear thy part
I' th' publick work, base as thou art? 490
To higgle thus for a few blows,
To gain thy Knight an op'lent spouse
Whose wealth his bowels yearn to purchase,
Merely for th' interest of the Churches;
And when he has it in his claws, 495
Will not be hide-bound to the Cause?
Nor shalt thou find him a Curmudgin,
If thou dispatch it without grudging.
If not, resolve, before we go,
That you and I must pull a crow. 500

Y' had best (quoth RALPHO) as the ancients
Say wisely, Have a care o' th' main chance,
And look before you ere you leap;
For as you sow, y' are like to reap:
And were y' as good as George-a-Green, 505
I shall make bold to turn agen
Nor am I doubtful of the issue
In a just quarrel, and mine is so.
Is't fitting for a man of honour
To whip the Saints, like Bishop Bonner? 510
A Knight t' usurp the beadle's office,
For which y' are like to raise brave trophies.
But I advise you (not for fear,
But for your own sake) to forbear;
And for the Churches, which may chance, 515
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; 520
Trepann'd your party with intrigue,
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, 525
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
Capoch'd your Rabbins of the Synod,
And snap'd their Canons with a why-not; 530
(Grave Synod Men, that were rever'd
For solid face and depth of beard;)
Their classic model prov'd a maggot,
Their direct'ry an Indian Pagod;
And drown'd their discipline like a kitten, 535
On which they'd been so long a sitting;
Decry'd it as a holy cheat,
Grown out of date, and obsolete;
And all the Saints of the first grass
As casting foals of Balaam's ass. 540

At this the Knight grew high in chafe,
And staring furiously on RALPH,
He trembled, and look'd pale with ire
Like ashes first, then red as fire.
Have I (quoth he) been ta'en in fight, 545
And for so many moons lain by't,
And, when all other means did fail,
<q> Have been exchang'd for tubs of ale?
Not but they thought me worth a ransome
Much more consid'rable and handsome, 550
But for their own sakes, and for fear
They were not safe when I was there
Now to be baffled by a scoundrel,
An upstart sect'ry, and a mungrel;
Such as breed out of peccant humours, 555
Of our own Church, like wens or tumours,
And, like a maggot in a sore,
Would that which gave it life devour;
It never shall be done or said;
With that he seiz'd upon his blade; 560
And RALPHO too, as quick and bold,
Upon his basket-hilt laid hold,
With equal readiness prcpar'd
To draw, and stand upon his guard;
When both were parted on the sudden, 565
With hideous clamour, and a loud one
As if all sorts of noise had been
Contracted into one loud din;
Or that some member to be chosen,
Had got the odds above a thousand, 570
And by the greatness of its noise,
Prov'd fittest for his country's choice.
This strange surprisal put the Knight
And wrathful Squire into a fright;
And though they stood prepar'd, with fatal 575
Impetuous rancour to join battel,
Both thought it was the wisest course
To wave the fight and mount to horse,
And to secure by swift retreating,
Themselves from danger of worse beating. 580
Yet neither of them would disparage,
By utt'ring of his mind, his courage,
Which made them stoutly keep their ground,
With horror and disdain wind-bound.

And now the cause of all their fear 585
By slow degrees approach'd so near,
They might distinguish different noise
Of horns, and pans, and dogs, and boys,
And kettle-drums, whose sullen dub
Sounds like the hooping of a tub. 590
But when the sight appear'd in view,
They found it was an antique show;
A triumph, that, for pomp and state,
Did proudest Romans emulate:
For as the aldermen of Rome 595
Their foes at training overcome,
And not enlarging territory,
(As some mistaken write in Story,)
Being mounted, in their best array,
Upon a carr, and who but they! 600
And follow'd with a world of tall-lads,
That merry ditties troll'd, and ballads,
Did ride with many a good-morrow,
Crying, Hey for our Town! through the Borough
So when this triumph drew so nigh 605
They might particulars descry,
They never saw two things so pat,
In all respects, as this and that.
First, he that led the cavalcade,
Wore a sow-gelder's flagellate, 610
On which he blew as strong a levet
As well-fee'd lawyer on his breviate,
When over one another's heads
They charge (three ranks at once) like Swedes,
Next pans and kettle, of all keys, 615
From trebles down to double base;
And after them, upon a nag,
That might pass for a forehand stag,
A cornet rode, and on his staff
A smock display'd did proudly wave. 620
Then bagpipes of the loudest drones,
With snuffling broken-winded tones,
Whose blasts of air, in pockets shut
Sound filthier than from the gut,
And make a viler noise than swine 625
In windy weather, when they whine.
Next one upon a pair of panniers,
Full fraught with that which for good manners
Shall here be nameless, mixt with grains,
Which he dispens'd among the swains, 630
And busily upon the crowd
At random round about bestow'd.
Then, mounted on a horned horse,
One bore a gauntlet and gilt spurs,
Ty'd to the pummel of a long sword 635
He held reverst, the point turn'd downward,
Next after, on a raw-bon'd steed,
The conqueror's standard-bearer rid,
And bore aloft before the champion
A petticoat display'd, and rampant 640
Near whom the Amazon triumphant
Bestrid her beast, and on the rump on't
Sat face to tail, and bum to bum,
The warrior whilom overcome;
Arm'd with a spindle and a distaff, 645
Which, as he rode, she made him twist off;
And when he loiter'd, o'er her shoulder
Chastis'd the reformado soldier.
Before the dame, and round about,
March'd whifflers and staffiers on foot, 650
With lackies, 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, 655
Like NERO'S SPORUS, or POPE JOAN;
And at fit periods the whole rout
Set up their throats with clamorous shout.
The Knight, transported, and the Squire,
Put up their weapons, and their ire; 660
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, 665
I ne'er saw so prophane a show.
It is a Paganish invention, —
Which heathen writers often mention:
And he who made it had read GOODWIN,
Or Ross, or CAELIUS RHODOGINE, 670
With all the Grecians, SPEEDS and STOWS,
That best describe those ancient shows;
And has observ'd all fit decorums
We find describ'd by old historians:
For as the Roman conqueror, 675
That put an end to foreign war,
Ent'ring the town in triumph for it,
<r> Bore a slave with him, in his chariot;
So this insulting female brave,
Carries behind her here a slave: 680
And as the ancients long ago,
When they in field defy'd the foe,
<s> Hung out their mantles della guerre,
So her proud standard-bearer here
Waves on his spear, in dreadful manner, 685
A Tyrian-petticoat for banner:
<t> Next links and torches, heretofore
Still borne before the emperor.
And as, in antique triumphs, eggs
Were borne for mystical intrigues, 690
There's one with truncheon, like a ladle,
That carries eggs too, fresh or addle;
And still at random, as he goes,
Among the rabble-rout bestows.

Quoth Ralpho, You mistake the matter; 695
For all th' antiquity you smatter,
Is but a riding, us'd of course
When the grey mare's the better horse;
When o'er the breeches greedy women
Fight to extend their vast dominion; 700
And in the cause impatient Grizel
Has drubb'd her Husband with bull's pizzle,
And brought him under Covert-Baron,
To turn her vassal with a murrain;
When wives their sexes shift, like hares, 705
And ride their husbands like night-mares,
And they in mortal battle vanquish'd,
Are of their charter disenfranchis'd
And by the right of war, like gills,
Condemn'd to distaff, horns, and wheels: 710
For when men by their wives are cow'd,
Their horns of course are understood

Quoth HUDIBRAS thou still giv'st sentence
Impertinently, and against sense.
Tis not the least disparagement 715
To be defeated by th' event,
Nor to be beaten by main force;
That does not make a man the worse,
Although his shoulders with battoon
Be claw'd and cudgel'd to some tune. 720
A taylor's 'prentice has no hard
Measure that's bang'd with a true yard:
But to turn tail, or run away,
And without blows give up the day,
Or to surrender ere th' assault, 725
That's no man's fortune, but his fault,
And renders men of honour less
Than all th' adversity of success;
And only unto such this shew
Of horns and petticoats is due. 730
There is a lesser profanation,
Like that the Romans call'd ovation:
For as ovation was allow'd
For conquest purchas'd without blood,
So men decree these lesser shows 735
For victory gotten without blows,
By dint of sharp hard words, which some
Give battle with, and overcome.
These mounted in a chair-curule,
Which moderns call a cucking-stool, 740
March proudly to the river's side,
And o'er the waves in triumph ride;
Like Dukes of VENICE, who are said
The Adriatick Sea to wed;
And have a gentler wife than those 745
For whom the State decrees those shows,
But both are heathenish, and come
From th' whores of Babylon and Rome;
And by the Saints should be withstood,
As Antichristian and lewd; 750
And as such, should now contribute
Our utmost struggling to prohibit.

This said, they both advanc'd, and rode
A dog-trot through the bawling crowd,
T'attack the leader, and still prest, 755
Till they approach'd him breast to breast
Then HUDIBRAS, with face and hand,
Made signs for silence; which obtain'd,
What means (quoth he) this Devil's precession
With men of orthodox profession? 760
'Tis ethnic and idolatrous,
From heathenism deriv'd to us,
Does not the Whore of Babylon ride
Upon her horned beast astride
Like this proud dame, who either is 765
A type of her, or she of this?
Are things of superstitious function
Fit to be us'd in Gospel Sun-shine?
It is an Antichristian opera,
Much us'd in midnight times of Popery, 770
Of running after self-inventions
Of wicked and profane intentions;
To scandalize that sex for scolding,
To whom the Saints are so beholden.
Women, who were our first Apostles 775
Without whose aid we had been lost else;
Women, that left no stone unturn'd
In which the Cause might he concern'd;
Brought in their children's' spoons and whistles,
To purchase swords, carbines, and pistols; 780
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 'em constant to the party, 785
With motives powerful and hearty;
Their husbands robb'd, and made hard shifts
T'administer unto their gifts
All they cou'd rap, and rend, and pilfer,
To scraps and ends of gold and silver; 790
Rubb'd down the Teachers, tir'd and spent
With holding forth for Parliament,
Pamper'd and edify'd their zeal
With marrow-puddings many a meal;
And led them, with store of meat, 795
On controverted points to eat;
And cram'd 'em, 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? 800
March'd rank and file, with drum and ensign,
T'intrench 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, 805
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
Chose of their members a committee, 810
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, 815
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. 820
Then he that on the panniers rode,
Let fly on th' other side a load,
And, quickly charg'd again, gave fully
In RALPHO'S face another volley.
The Knight was startled with the smell, 825
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 clapp'd his flaming cudgel,
Like linstock, to the horse's touch-hole; 830
And straight another, with his flambeaux,
Gave RALPHO'S o'er the eye 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, 835
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 reins,
They grasp'd with all their strength the manes, 840
And, to avoid the foe's pursuit,
With spurring put their cattle to't;
And till all four were out of wind,
And danger too, ne'er look'd behind.
After th' had paus'd a while, supplying 845
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 dirty foes: 850
For where no honour's to be gain'd,
'Tis thrown away in b'ing maintain'd.
'Twas ill for us we had to do
With so dishonourable a foe:
For though the law of arms doth bar 855
The use of venom'd shot in war,
Yet, by the nauseous smell, and noisome,
Their case-shot savours strong of poison;
And doubtless have been chew'd with teeth
Of some that had a stinking breath; 860
Else, when we put it to the push,
They have not giv'n us such a brush.
But as those pultroons, that fling dirt,
Do but defile, but cannot hurt,
So all the honour they have won, 865
Or we have lost, is much as one,
'Twas well we made so resolute
And brave retreat without pursuit;
For if we had not, we had sped
Much worse, to be in triumph led; 870
Than which the ancients held no state
Of man's life more unfortunate.
But if this bold adventure e'er
Do chance to reach the widow's ear,
It may, b'ing destin'd to assert 875
Her sex's honour, reach her heart:
And as such homely treats (they say)
Portend good fortune, so this may.
 VESPASIAN being daub'd with dirt,
Was destin'd to the empire for't; 880
And from a Scavenger did come
To be a mighty Prince in Rome
And why may not this foul address
Presage in love the same success
Then let us straight, to cleanse our wounds, 885
Advance in quest of nearest ponds,
And after (as we first design'd)
Swear I've perform'd what she enjoin'd.

NOTES TO PART II. CANTO II.

15 <n> So th' ancient Stoicks, &c.] In Porticu (Stoicorum Schola Athenis) Discipulorum Seditionibus mille Quadrigenti triginta Cives interfecti sunt. — Diog. Laert. In Vita Zenonis, p. 383. [One thousand four hundred and thirty citizens were killed in the quarrels of the disciples in the porch (of the Stoic School of Athens).] Those old Virtuosos were better proficients in those exercises than modern, who seldom improve higher than cuffing and kicking.

19 <o> Bonum is such a kind of animal as our modern virtuosi from Don Quixote will have windmills under sail to be. The same authors are of opinion, that all ships are fishes while they are afloat; but when they are run on ground, & laid up, in the dock, become ships again.

413 in a town, &c.] The history of the Cobler had been attested by persons of good credit, who were upon the place when it was done.