HUDIBRAS. THE FIRST PART. Written in the time of the late Wars.  
LONDON, Printed in the Year, 1663.   

Imprimatur.  
TO: BERKENHEAD.  
Novemb. 11 1662.   

HUDIBRAS.  

THE ARGUMENT OF The FIRST CANTO.  

Sir Hudibras his passing worth,  
The manner how he sallied forth:  
His Arms and Equi age are shown;  
His Horse's Virtues, and his own.  
Th' Adventure of the Bear and Fiddle  
Is sung, but breaks off in the middle.   
CANTO 1.  

WHen civil Dudgeon 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,  
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-eared rout, to Batrel sounded,  
And Pulpit, Drum Ecclesiastic,  
Was beat with s●…t, instead of a stick:  
Then did Sir Knight abandon dwelling,  
And out Le road Colonelling.   

A wight he was, whose very sight would  
Entitle him Mirror of Knighthood;  
That never bowed his stubborn knee  
To any thing but Chivalry,  
Nor put up blow, but that which laid  
Right Worshipful on shoulderblade:  
Chief of Domestic Knights and Errand,  
Either for Chartel 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,  
And styled 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.  
Some hold the one, and some the other:  
But howsoe'er they make a pother,  
The difference was so small, his Brain  
Outweighed his Rage but half a grain:  
Which made some take him for a tool  
That Knaves do work with, called a Fool.  
For't has been held by many, that  
As Mountaigne, playing with his Cat,  
Complains she thought him but an Ass,  
Much more she would Sir Hudibras.  
But they're mistaken very much,  
'Tis plain enough he was no such.  
We grant, although he had much wit,  
HE was very shy of using it,  
As being loath to wear it out,  
And therefore bore it not about,  
Unless on Holidays, or so,  
As men their best Apparel do.  
Beside 'tis known he could speak Greek,  
As naturally as Pigs squeak:  
That Latin was no more difficile,  
Than to a Blackbird 'tis to whistle.  
Being rich in both he never scanted  
His Bounty unto such as wanted;  
But much of either would afford  
To many that had not one word.  
For Hebrew Roots, although theyare found  
To flourish most in barren ground,  
He had such plenty, as sufficed  
To make some think him circumcised:  
And truly so he was perhaps,  
Not as a Proselyte, but for Claps.   

He was in Logic a great Critic,  
Profoundly skilled in Analytick.  
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.  
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,  
And Rooks Committee-men and trusties.  
He'd run in Debt by Disputation,  
And pay with Ratiocination.  
All this by Syllogism, true  
In mood and figure, he would do.   

For Rhetoric, he could not open  
His mouth, but out there flew a Trope:  
And when he happened to break off  
I'th' middle of his speech, or cough,  
HE had hard words ready, to show why,  
And tell what Rules he did it by.  
Else when with greatest Art he spoke,  
You'd think he talked like other foke.  
But when he pleased to show't, his speech  
In loftiness of sound was rich,  
A Babylonish dialect,  
Which learned Pedants much affect.  
It was a particoloured dress  
Of patched and pyballed Languages:  
'T was English cut on Greek and Latin,  
Like Fustian heretofore on Satin.   

It had an odd promiscuous Tone,  
As if h'had talked three parts in one.  
Which made some think when he did gabble,  
Th' had heard three Labourers of Babel;  
Or Cerberus himself pronounce  
A Leash of Languages at once.  
This he as volubly would vent,  
As if his stock would ne'er be spent.  
And truly to support that charge  
He had supplies as vast and large.  
For he could coin or counterfeit  
New words, with little or no wit:  
Words so debased and hard, no stone  
Was hard enough to touch them on.  
And when with hasty noise he spoke 'em,  
The Ignorant for currant took took.   

In Mathematics he was greater  
Than Tycho Brahe or Erra Pater:  
For he by Geometric scale.  
Could take the size of Pots of Ale;  
Resolve by Sines and Tangents strait,  
If Bread or Butter wanted weight;  
And wisely tell what hour o'th' day  
The Clock does strike, by Algebra.  
Beside he was a shrewd Philosopher,  
And had read every Text and gloss over:  
What every Sceptic could inquire for;  
For every why he had a wherefore:  
Knew more than forty of them do,  
As far as words and terms could go.  
All which he understood by Rote,  
And as occasion served, 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;  
But oftentimes mistook the one  
For th'other, as Great Clerks have done.  
He'd tell wl ere Entity and Quiddity,  
The Ghosts of defunct Bodies, fly;  
Where Truth in Person does appear,  
Like words congealed in Northern Air.  
He knew what's what, and that's as high  
As Met aphysick wit can fly.  
In School-Divinity as able  
As he that height Irrefragable;  
A second Thomas, or, at once  
To name them all, another Dunce.  
For he a Rope of sand could twist,  
As tough as Learned Sorbonist;  
And wove fine Cobwebs, fit for; skull  
That's empty when the Moon is full;  
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 catched  
The Itch, of purpose to be scratched:  
Or, like a Mountebank, did wound  
And stab herself with doubts profound,  
Only to show with how small pain  
The sores of faith are cured again;  
Although by woeful proof we find,  
They always leave a Scar behind.  
He knew the seat of Paradise,  
Could tell in what degree it lies:  
What Adam dreamt of when his Bride  
Came from her Closet in his side:  
Whether the Devil tempted her  
By a High Dutch Interpreter:  
If either of them 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 o●… Comment,  
He would 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:  
'twas Presbyterian true blue,  
For he was of that stubborn Crew  
Of Errand Saints, whom all men grant  
To be the true Church Militant:  
Such as do build their Faith upon  
The holy Text of Pike and Gun;  
Decide all Controversies by  
Infallible Artillery;  
And prove their Doctrine Orthodox  
By Apostolic Blows and Knocks;  
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  
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:  
More peevish, cross, and spleenatick,  
Then Dog distract, or Monkey sick:  
That with more care keep holiday  
The wrong, than others the right way:  
Still so perverse and opposite,  
As if they worshipped God for spite,  
The selfsame thing they will abhor  
One way, and long another for.  
freewill 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  
That which they love most tenderly;  
Quarrel with minced Pies, and disparrage  
Their best and dearest friend, Plum-porredge;  
Fat Pig and Goose itself oppose,  
And blaspheme Custard through the Nose.  
Th' Apostles of this fierce Religion,  
Like Mahomet's, were Ass and Widgeon,  
To whom out Knight by fast instinct  
Of wit and temper was so linked,  
As if Hypocrisy and nonsense,  
Had got the Advouson of his Conscience.   

Thus was he gifted and accoutered,  
We mean on th' inside, not the outward:  
That next of all we shall discuss;  
Then listen Sit, It followeth thus.   

His tawny Beard was th' equal grace  
Both of his wisdom and his face;  
In Cut and Die so like a ●…e,  
A sudden view it would beguile:  
The upper part thereof was Whey,  
The nether Orange mixed with Grace.   

This hairy Meteor did denounce  
The fall of Sceptres and of Crowns;  
With grizly type did represent  
Declining Age of Government;  
And tell with Hieroglyphic Spade,  
It's own grave and the State's were made.  
Like Sampson's Heart-breakers, it grew  
In time to make a Nation rue;  
Though it contributed its own fall,  
To wait upon the public downfall.  
It was Monastic, and did grow  
In holy Orders, by strict vow;  
Of Rule as sullen and severe,  
As that of rigid Cordeliere.  
'Twas bound to suffer Persecution  
And Marryrdom with resolution;  
T' oppose itself against the hate  
And vengeance of th' incensed State.  
In whose defiance it was worn,  
Still ready to be pulled and torn,  
With red-hot Irons to be tortured,  
Reviled, and spit upon, and martyred.  
Maugre all which, 'twas to stand fast  
As long as Monarchy should last.  
But when the 〈◊〉 should hap to reel,  
'Twas to submit to fatal steel,  
And fall, as it was consecrate  
A sacrifice to fall of State;  
Whose ●…hred of life fatal Sisters  
Did 〈◊〉 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.   

So learned Taliacotius from  
The brawny part of Porter's Bum,  
Cut supplemental Noses, which  
Would last as long as Parent breech:  
But when the Date of Nock was out,  
Off dropped the Sympathetick Snout.   

His Back, or rather Burden, showed  
As if it stooped with its own load.  
For as Aene as boar his Sire  
Upon his shoulders through the fire:  
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  
A Paunch of the same bulk before:  
Which still he had a special care  
To keep well crammed with thrifty fare;  
As Whitepot, Buttermilk, and Curds,  
Such as a Country house affords;  
With other Victual, which anon  
We further shall dilate upon,  
When of his Hose we come to treat,  
The Cupboard where he kept his meat.   

His Doublet was of sturdy Buff,  
And though not Sword-yet Cudgel-proof:  
Whereby 'twas fitter for his use,  
That seared no blows but such as bruise.   

His Breeches were of rugged woollen,  
And had been at the siege of Bullen;  
To old King Harry so well known,  
Some writers held they were his own.  
Through they were lined with many a piece  
Of Ammunition-Bread and Cheese,  
And fat Black-puddings, proper food  
For Warriors that delight in blood,  
For, as we said, He always chose  
To carry Victual in his hose.  
And though Knights Errand, as some think,  
Of old did neither eat nor drink,  
Because when thorough Deserts vast  
And Regions desolate they passed,  
Where Belly-●…imber above ground  
O●… under was not to be found,  
Unless they g●…az'd, there's not one word  
Of their Provision on Record:  
Which made some confidently write,  
They had no stomaches, but to fight.  
'Tis false: For Arthur wore in Hall  
Round-Table like a Farthingale,  
On which, with shirt pulled out behind;  
And eke before, his good Knights dined.  
Though 'twas no Table, some suppose,  
But a huge pair of round Trunk-hose;  
In which he carried as much meat  
As he and all his Knights could eat,  
When laying by their swords and truncheons,  
They took their Breakfasts and their Nuncheons.  
But let that pass at present, lest  
We should forget where we dig rest:  
As learned Authors use, to whom  
We leave it, and to th' purpose come.  
His puissant Sword unto his side  
Near his undaunted heart was tied,  
With Basket-hilt, that would hold broth.  
And serve for fight and dinner both.  
In it he melted lead for Bullets,  
To shoot at Foes; and sometimes Pullet's,  
To whom he bore so fell a grudge,  
He ne'er gave quarter t'any such.  
The trenchant blade, Toledo trusty,  
For want of fight was grown rusty,  
And ate into itself for lack  
Of somebody to hew and hack.   

The peaceful Scabbard where it dwelled,  
The Rancour of its Edge had felt:  
For of the lower end two handful  
It had devoured, 'twas so manful;  
And so much scorned to lurk in case,  
As if it durst not show its face.  
In many desperate Attempts,  
Of Warrants, Exigents, Contempts,  
It had appeared with Courage bolder  
Than Sergeant Bum, invading shoulder.  
Oft had it ta'en possession,  
And Prisoners too, or made them run.   

This Sword a Dagger had his Page,  
That was but little for his age:  
And therefore waited on him so,  
As Dwarves upon Knights Errand do.  
It was a serviceable Dudgeon,  
Either for fight or for drudging.  
When it had stabbed, or broke a head,  
It would scrape Trenchers, or chip Bread,  
Toast Cheese or Bacon, though it were  
To bait a Mousetrap, 'twould not care.  
'T would make clean shoes, and in the earth  
Set Leeks and Onions, and so forth.  
It had been Apprentice to a Brewer,  
Where this and more it did endure.  
But left the Trade, as many more  
Have lately done on the same score.   

In th' Holsters at his saddlebow,  
Two aged Pistols he did stow,  
Among the surplus of such meat  
As in his hose he could not get.  
These would inveigle Rats with th' scent,  
To forage when the Cocks were bend,  
And sometime catch 'em with a snap  
As cleverly as th' ablest trap.  
They were upon hard Duty still,  
And every night stood Centinel,  
To guard the magazine i'th' hose  
From two-legged and from four-legged foes.   

Thus clad and fortified, Sir Knight  
From peaceful home set forth to fight,  
But first with nimble active force  
He got on th' outside of his Horse.  
For having but one stirrup tied  
TO his saddle, on the further side,  
It was so short, he had much ado  
To reach it with his desperate roe,  
But after many strains and heaves,  
He got up to the saddle eaveses.  
From whence he vaulted into th' seat  
With so much vigour, strength, and heat,  
That he had almost tumbled over  
With his own weight, but did recover,  
By laying hold on tail and mane,  
Which oft he used instead of rein,   

But now we talk of mounting Steed,  
Before we further do proceed,  
It doth he have us to say something,  
Of that which bore our valiant Bunkin.   

The Beast was sturdy; large and tall,  
With mouth of mea●… and eyes of wall:  
I would say eye, for he had but one,  
As most agree, though some say none  
He was well stayed, and in his Gate  
Preserved a grave, majestic state.  
At Spur or Switch no more he skipped,  
O●… mended pace, than Spaniard whipped:  
And yet so fiery, he would bond,  
As if he grieved to touch the ground.  
That Caesar's Horse, who, as fame goes,  
Had Corns upon his feet and toes,  
Was not by half so tender-hooft,  
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)  
Would often do, to set him down.   

We shall not need to say what lack  
Of Leather was upon his back:  
For that was hidden under pad,  
And breech of Knight galled full as bad.  
His strutting Ribs on both sides showed  
Like furrows he himself had ploughed:  
For underneath the skirt of Panel,  
'Twixt every two there was a Channel.  
His draggling Tail hung in the Dirt,  
Which on his Rider he would flirt  
Still as his tender side he pricked,  
With armed heel, or with unarmed kicked:  
For Hudibras wore but one Spur,  
As wisely knowing, could he stir  
To active tror one side of's Horse,  
The other would 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:  
And when we can with Meeter safe,  
We'll call him so, if not plain Raph.  
For Rhyme the Rudder is of Verses,  
With which like Ships they stea their courses.  
An equal stock of Wit and Valour  
He had laid in, by birth a Tailor.  
The mighty Tyrian Queen that gained  
With subtle shreds a Tract of Land,  
Did leave it with a Castle fair  
To his great Ancestor, her Heir:  
From him descended crosslegged Knights,  
Famed for their faith, and warlike fights  
Against the bloody Cannibal,  
Whom they destroyed both great and small.  
This sturdy Squire had as well  
As the bold Trojan Knight, seen Hell,  
Not with a counterseited Pass  
Of golden bough, but true goldlace.  
His Knowledge was not far behind  
The Knights, but of another kind,  
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 wits were sent him for a Token,  
But in the Carriage cracked and broken,  
Like Commendation Ninepences, crooked  
With to and from my Love, it looked.  
He ne'er considered it, as loath  
To look a gift-horse in the mouth;  
And very wisely would 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  
Of Gifts that cost them nothing free.  
By means of this, with him and cough,  
Prolongers to enlightened Snuff,  
He could deep Mysteries unriddle,  
As easily as thread a Needle:  
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 bei'th ' right.  
'Tis a dark Lantern of the Spirit,  
Which none see by but those that hear it:  
A Light that falls down from on high,  
For Spiritual Trades to cousin by:  
An Ignis Fatuus, that bewitches,  
And leads men into Pools and Ditches,  
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  
The nose of Saint, like Bag-pipe-drone,  
And speaks through hollow empty soul,  
As through a Trunk, or whispering hole,  
Such language as no mortal ear  
But spiritual Eavesdroppers can hear.  
So Phoebus or some friendly Muse  
Into small Poet's Song infuse;  
Which they at second-hand rehearse  
Through reed or bagpipe, verse for verse.   

Thus Ralph became infallible,  
As three or four-legged Oracle,  
The ancient Cup, or modern Chair;  
Spoke truth point-blank, though unaware:  
For mystic Learning, wondrous able  
In Magic, Talisman, and Cabal,  
Whose Primitive tradition reaches  
As far as Adam's first green breeches:  
Deep-sighted in Intelligences,  
Ideas, Atoms, Influences;  
And much of Terra Incognita;  
Th' Intelligible world could say:  
A deep occult Philosopher,  
As learned as the Wild Irish are,  
Or Sir Agrippa; for profound  
And solid Lying much renowned:  
He Anthroposophus, and Flood,  
And Jacob Behmen understood;  
Knew many an Amulet and Charm;  
That would do neither good nor harm:  
In Rosy-Crucian Lore as learned,  
As he that Verè adeptus earned.  
He understood the speech of Birds,  
As well as they themselves do words:  
Could tell what subtlest Parrots mean,  
That speak and think contrary clean;  
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 sovereign power to make men wise;  
For dropped in blere, thick-sighted eyes,  
They'd make them see in darkest night,  
Like Owls, though purblind in the light.  
By help of these (as he professed)  
He had First Matter seen undressed:  
He took her naked all alone,  
Before one Rag of Form was on.  
The Chaos too he had descried,  
And seen quite through, or else he lied;  
Not that of Pasteboard which men show  
For Groats at Fair of Bartholomew.  
But it's great Grandsire, first o'th' name,  
Whence that and Reformation came:  
Both Cousin-germen, and right able  
T' inveigle and draw in the Rabble.  
But Reformation was, some say,  
O'th' younger house to Puppet-play.  
He could foretell whats'oever was  
By consequence to come to pass.  
As Death of Great men, Alterations,  
Diseases, Battles, Inundations.  
All this without th' eclipse of Sur,  
Ordreadfull Corner, he hath done,  
By inward light, a way as good,  
And easy to be understood.  
But with more lucky hit then 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  
All Mischief in the World mendo;  
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 robbed a house below:  
Examine Venus, and the Moon,  
Who stole a thimble, or a spoon:  
And though they nothing will confess,  
Yet by their very looks can gross,  
And tell what guilty Aspect bodes,  
Who stole, and who received the goods.  
They'll question Mars, and by his look  
Detect who 'twas that nimmed a Cloak:  
Make Mercury confess and peach  
Those thiefs which he himself did teach.  
They'll find i'th' Physiognomies  
O'th' Planets all men's destinies:  
Like him that took the Doctor's Bill,  
And swallowed it instead o'th' Piil.  
Cast the nativity o'th' Question,  
And from Positions to be guest on,  
As sure as if they knew the moment  
Of Natives birth, rell what will come on't.  
They'll feel the Pulses of the Stars,  
To find out Agues, Coughs, Catarrhs;  
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;  
What makes men great, what fools or knaves;  
But not what wife, for only of those  
The Stars (they say) cannot dispose,  
No more than can the Astrologians.  
There they say right, & like true Trojans.  
This Ralpho knew, and therefore took,  
The other course, of which we spoke.  
Thus was th' accomplished Squire endued  
With Gifts and Knowledge, perilous shrewd,  
Never did trusty Squire with Knight,  
Or Knight with Squire jump more right.  
Their Arms and Equipage did fit,  
As well as Virtues, parts, and wit.  
Their Valours too were of a Rate,  
And out they sallied at the Gate,  
Few miles on horseback had they jogged,  
But fortune unto them turned dogged.  
For they a sad Adventure met,  
Of which anon we mean to treat:  
But e'er we venture to unfold  
Achievements so resolved and bold,  
We should, as learned Poets use,  
Invoke th' assistance of some Muse;  
However Critics count it sillier  
Than Jugglers talking to Familiar,  
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 we do accost.   

Thou that with Ale, or viler liquors,  
Didst inspire Withers, Pryn, and vicars  
And force them, though it were in spite  
Of nature and their stars to write;  
Who, as we find in sullen Writs,  
And cross-grained works of modern wits,  
With vanity, opinion, want,  
The wonder of the Ignorant,  
The praises of the Author, penned  
By himself, or wit-ensuring friend,  
The Itch of Picture in the Front,  
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;  
Though 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  
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 weare, or are not understood.  
To this Town People did repair  
On days of Market, or of Fair,  
And to cracked Fiddle, and hoarse Tabor  
In merriment did drudge and labour:  
But now a sport more formidable,  
Had raked together Village rabble.  
‛ I was an old way of Recreating,  
Which learned Butchers call Bearbailing:  
A bold adventurous exercise,  
With ancient Hero's in high prize;  
For Authors ●…o affirm it came  
From Isthmian or Nemean game.  
Others derive it from the Bear  
That's fixed in Northern Hemisphere,  
And round about the Pole does make  
A circle, like a Bear at stake,  
That at the Chain's end wheels about,  
And overturns the Rabble-ront.  
For after solemn proclamation  
In the Beat's name (as is the fashion,  
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 foolhardy,  
T' expose themselves to vain Jeopardy;  
If they come wounded off and lame,  
No honours got by such a maim.  
Although the Bear gain much, b'ing bound  
In honour to make good his ground,  
When he's engaged, and take no notice,  
If any press upon him, who 'tis,  
But let them know at their own cost  
That he intends to keep his post.  
This to prevent, and other harms,  
Which always waits on feats of Arms,  
(For in the hurry of a Fray  
'Tis hard to keep out of harms way)  
Thither the Knight his course did steer,  
To keep the peace 'twixt Dog and Bear;  
As he believed h'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, should foresee,  
From Pharos of Authority,  
Portended Mischiefs farther than  
Low Proletarian Tithing-men.  
And therefore being informed by bruit,  
That Dog and Bear are to dispute;  
For so of late men fight name,  
Because they often prove the same;  
(For where the first does hap to be,  
The last does coincidere)  
Quantum in nobis, have thought good,  
To save th'expense of Christian blood,  
And try if we by meditation  
Of Treaty and accommodation  
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,  
For Covenant 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.  
There is a Machiavillian Plot,  
(Though every nave olfact it not)  
A deep design in't, to divide  
The well-affected that confide,  
By setting Brother against Brother,  
To claw and curry one another.  
Have we not enemies plus satis,  
That Cane & angue pejus hate us?  
And 〈◊〉 all we turn our fangs and claws  
Upon our own selves, without cause?  
That some occult design dothly  
In bloody Cynarctomachy,  
Is plain enough to him that knows  
How Saints seed brothers by the nose.  
I wish myself a Pseudo-prophet,  
But 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 mischief will come of it:  
Unless by providential wit  
Or force we averruncate it.  
For what design, what interest  
Can Beast have to encounter Beast?  
They fight for no espoused Cause,  
Frail Privilege, Fundamental Laws;  
Nor for a thorough Reformation,  
Nor Covenant, nor Protestation;  
Nor for free Liberty of Conscience,  
Nor Lords and Commons Ordinances;  
Nor for the Church, nor for Church-lands,  
To get them in their own no hands;  
Nor evil Counselors to bring  
To Justice that seduce the King;  
Nor for the worship of us men,  
Though we have done as much for them.  
Th' Egyptians worshipped Dogs, and for  
Their Faith made internecine war.  
Others adored a Rat, and some  
For that Church suffered martyrdom.  
The Indians fought for the truth  
Of th' Elephant, and Monkey's tooth;  
And many, to defend that faith,  
Fought it out mordicus to death.  
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, we only do infuse  
The Rage in them like Boutefeus.  
'Tis our example that instills  
In them th'infection of our ills,  
For, as some late Philosophers  
Have well observed, Beasts that converse  
With Man, take after him, as Hogs  
Get Pigs all th'year, and Bitch's Dogs.  
Just so by our example cattle  
Learn to give one another Battle.  
We read in Nero's time, the Heathen,  
When they destroyed the Christian brethren,  
They sowed them in the skins of Bears,  
And then set Dogs about their ears:  
From whence, no doubt, th'invention came  
Of this lewd, Antichristian Game.  
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  
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.  
A vile Assembly 'tis, that can  
No more be proved by Scripture than  
Provincial, Classic, National;  
Mere humane Creature-cobwebs all.  
Thirdly, it is Idolatrous.  
For when men run a-whoring thus  
With their Inventions, whatsoever  
The thing be, whether Dog or Bear,  
It is Idolatrous and Pagan,  
No less than worshipping of Dagon.   

Quoth Hudibras, I smell a Rat;  
Ralpho, thou dost prevaricate,  
For though the Thesis which thou layest  
Be true ad amussim as thou sayest:  
(For that Bear-baiting should appear  
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 Homoeosis,  
(Tussis pro crepitu, an Art  
Under a Cough to slur a Fart)  
Thou wouldst Sophistically imply  
Both are unlawful, I deny.   

And I (quoth Ralpho) do not doubt  
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,  
●…hat 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  
O'th' two is worst, though I name neither.   

Quoth Hudibras, Thou offerest much,  
But art not able to keep touch.  
Mira de lente, as 'tis i'th' Adage,  
Id est, to make a Leek a Cabbage.  
Thou wise at best but suck a Bull,  
Or shear Swine, All Cry, and no Wool.  
For what can Synods have at all  
With Bears that's analogical?  
Or what relation has debating  
Of Church-Affairs with Bear-baiting?  
A just comparison still is,  
Of things ejusdem generis.  
And then what Genus ●…ightly doth  
Compr'hend them inclusiuè both?  
If Animal, both of us may  
As likely pass for Bears as they,  
For we are Animals no less,  
Although of different Speciese●….  
But Ralpho, this is no fit place  
Nor time to argue our the Case.  
For 〈◊〉 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.  
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,  
And all the Godly expect from us.  
Nor shall they be deceived, unless  
weare slutred and outed by success:  
Success, the mark no mortal wit,  
Or surest hand, can always hit:  
For whatsoever we perpetrate,  
We do but row, weare steered by fate,  
Which in success oft disinherits,  
For spurious causes, noblest merits.  
Great Actions are not always true sons  
Of great and mighty Resolutions:  
Nor do the bolo'rt attempts bring forth  
Events still equal to their worth;  
But sometimes fail, and in their stead  
Fortune and Cowardice succeed.  
Yet we have no great cause to doubt,  
Our actions still have born us out.  
Which though theyare known to be so ample,  
We need not copy from example,  
We're not the only person durst,  
Attempt this Province, nor the first.  
In Northern Clime a valorous Knight  
Did whilom kill his Bear in fight,  
And wound a Fiddler: we have both  
Of these the objects of our wrath,  
And equal fame and glory from  
Th' Attempt or Victory to come.  
'Tis sung, There is a valiant Mamaluke  
In foreign Land, yclept—  
To whom we have been oft compared,  
For Person, Parts, Address, and Beard;  
Both equally reputed sto●…,  
And in the same Cause both have sought.  
He oft an such Attempt, as these  
Came off with glory and success.  
Nor will we fail in th' execution,  
For want of equal Resolution.  
Honour is like a Widow, won  
With bri●…k Attempt and putting on;  
With entering manfully, and urging;  
Not slow approaches, like a Virgin.   

This 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;  
But from his empty stomach groaned,  
Just as that hollow beast did sound,  
And angry answered from behind,  
With brandished Tail and blast of wind.  
So have I seen with armed heel,  
A Wight bestride a Common weal;  
While still the more he kicked & spurred,  
The less the sullen Jade has stirred,    

THE ARGUMENT OF THE SECOND CANTO.  

The Catalogue and Character  
Of th' Enemy's best men of War;  
To whom the Knight does make a speech,  
And they defy him: after which  
He fights with Talgol, routs the Bear,  
And takes the Fiddler Prisoner;  
Conveys him to enchanted Castle,  
Their shuts him fast in Wooden Bastile.   
CANTO II.  

THere was an ancient sage Philosopher,  
That had read Alexander Ross over,  
And swore the world as he could prove,  
Was made of Fight and of Love:  
Just so Romances are, for what else  
Is in them all, but Love and battles?  
O'th' first of these w'have no great matter  
To treat of, but a world o'th' latter:  
In which to do the Injured Right  
We mean, in what concerns just fight.  
Certes our Authors are to blame,  
For to make some well-sounding name  
A Pattern fit for 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
To copy out in Frays and Fights,  
(Like those that a whole 〈◊〉 do raze●…  
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,  
Composed of many ingredient Valours,  
Just like the manhood of nine Tailors.  
So a wild Tartar when he spies  
A man that's handsome, valiant, wise,  
If he can kill him, thinks t' inherit  
His Wit, his Beauty and his Spirit:  
As if just so much he enjoyed  
As in another is destroyed.  
For when a giant's slain in fight,  
And mowed o'erthwart, or cloven downright,  
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  
The naked truth of what befell;  
And as an equal friend to both.  
The Knight and Bear, but more to Troth,  
With neither faction shall take part,  
But give to cach his due desert:  
And never coin a formal lie on't,  
To make the Knight o'ercome the Giant.  
This b'ing professed, we hope's enough,  
And now go on where we left off.   

They road, but Authors having not  
Determined whether Pace or Trot,  
(That is to say, whether Tollutation,  
As they do term't, or Succussation)  
We leave it, and go on, as now  
Suppose they did, no matter how.  
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 whipped Tops and bandied Balls,  
The learned hold are Animals:  
So Horses they affirm to be  
Mere Engines, made by Geometry,  
And were invented first from Engines,  
As Indian Britan's were from Penguins.  
So let them be; and, as I was saying,  
They their live Engines plied, not staying  
Until they reached the fatal champain,  
Which th' Enemy did then incamp on,  
The dire Pharsalian Plain, where Battle  
Was to be waged 'twixt puissant cattle,  
And fierce Auxiliary men,  
That came to aid their Brethren:  
Who now began to draw in field,  
As Knight from ridge of Steed beheld.  
For as our modern wits behold,  
Mounted a Pick-back on the Old,  
Much further off; much further he  
From off his aged Beast could see:  
Yet not sufficient to descry  
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.  
Meanwhile he stopped his willing Steed,  
To fit himself for martial deed:  
Both kinds of mettle he prepared,  
Either to give blows, or to ward,  
Courage and steel, both of great force,  
Prepared for better or for worse.  
His Death-charged Pistols be did fit well,  
Drawn out from life-preserving victual.  
These being primed, with force he laboured  
To free sword from retentive Scabbard:  
And after many a painful pluck,  
From rusty durance he bailed Tuck.  
Then shook himself, to see that Prowess  
In Scabbard of his Arms sat loose;  
And raised upon his desperate foot  
On stirrup side he gazed about,  
Portending Blood, like Blazing Star,  
The Beacon of approaching War.  
Ralpho road on with no less speed,  
Then Hugo in the Forest did;  
But with a great deal more returned,  
For now the Foe he had discerned,  
Ranged, as to him they did appear,  
With Van, main Battle, Wings, and Rear.   

In th'head of all this Warlike Rabble  
Crowdero marched, expert and able:  
Instead of Trumpet and of Drum,  
That makes the Warrier's stomach come,  
Whose noise whets Valour sharp, like Beer  
By thunder turned to Vinegar,  
(For if a Trumpet sound or Drum beat,  
Who has not a 〈◊〉 mind to combat?)  
A squeaking Engine he applied  
Unto his neck, on North-east side,  
Just where the Hangman does dispose  
To special friends the Knot of Noose:  
For 'tis great Grace when Statesmen strait  
Dispatch a friend, let others wait.  
His warped Ear hung o'er the strings,  
Which was but Souse to Chitterlings:  
For Guts, some write, ere they are sodden,  
Are fit for Music, or for Pudden:  
From whence men borrow every kind  
Of Minstrelsy, by string or wind.  
His grizly Beard was long and thick,  
With which he strung his Fiddlestick:  
For he to Horse-tail scorned to owe,  
For what on his own chin did grow.  
Chiron, the four-legged Bard, had both  
A Beard and Tail of his own growth;  
And yet by Authors 'tis averred,  
He made use only of his Beard.  
In Stassordshire, where Virtuous worch  
Does raise the Minstrelsy, not Birth;  
Where Bulls do choose the boldest King  
And Ruler, o'er the men of string;  
〈◊〉 once in Persia, 'tis said,  
Kings were proclaimed by a Horse that neighed)  
He bravely venturing at a Crown,  
By chance of War was beaten down,  
And wounded sore: his Leg then broke,  
Had got a Deputy of Oak:  
For when a shin in fight is cropped,  
The knee with one of timoer's propped;  
Esteemed more honourable than the other,  
And takes place, though the younger Brother.   

Next followed Orsin, famous for  
Wise Conduct, and success in War:  
A skilful Leader, stout, severe,  
Now Marshal to the Champion Bear.  
With Truncheon tipped with Iron-head,  
The Warrior to the lists he led;  
With solemn march and stately pace,  
But far more grave and solemn face:  
Grave as the Emperor of Pegu,  
Or Spanish Potentate Don Diego.  
This Leader was of knowledge great,  
Either for Charge, or for Retreat.  
He knew when to fall on pellmell,  
To fall back and retreat as well.  
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 Judgement, and Demurrer,  
To let them breathe a while, and then  
Cry whoop, and set them on again.  
As Romuius a Wolf did rear.  
So he was dry-nursed by a Bear,  
That fed him with the purchased prey  
Of many a fierce and bloody fray;  
Bred up, where Discipline most rare is,  
In Military Garden-Paris.  
For Soldiers heretofore did grow  
In Gardens, just as Weeds to now;  
Until some splay foot Politicians  
TO Apollo offered up Petitions,  
For licensing a new invention  
The had found out, of an antique engine  
To root out all the Weeds that grow  
In Public Garden at a blow,  
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 'tis once known you'll say 'tis easy.  
Why then let's know it, quoth Apollo.  
We'll beat a Drum, and they'll all follow.  
A Drum (quoth Phoebus) troth that's true,  
A pretty invention, acquaint and new.  
But though of Voice and Instrument  
We are the undoubted Precedent;  
We such loud Music do not 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  
Will soon dispatch you for his fee.  
They did so, but it proved so ill,  
Th' had better have let them grow there still.  
But to resume what we discoursing  
Were on before, that is stout Orsin:  
That which so oft by sundry Writers  
Has been applied t' almost all fighters,  
More justly may be ascribed to this,  
Then any other Warrior (viz.)  
None ever acted both parts bolder,  
Both of a Chieftain, and a Soldier.  
He was of great descent, and high,  
For Splendour and Antiquity,  
And from Celestial origine  
Derived himself in a right line.  
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 Window)  
Made Jupiter himself, and others  
O' th' God's Gallants to their own Mothers,  
To get on them a race of Champions,  
Of which old Homer first made Lampoons.)  
Arctophylax in Northern Sphere  
Was ●…as undoubted Ancestor:  
From him his great Forefathers came,  
And in all ages bore his name.  
Learned he was in Medc'nal Lore,  
For by his side a Pouch he wore  
Replete with strange Hermetick Powder,  
That Wounds nine miles point-blank would  
By skilful Chemist with great cost (solder.  
Extracted from a rotten Post;  
But of a heav'nlier influence  
Than that which Mountebanks dispense;  
Though 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,  
B'ing prudently applied to it,  
Will convey mischief from the Dung  
Unto the Breech that did the wrong:  
So this did healing, andas sure  
As that did mischief, this would cure.   

Thus virtuous Orsin was endued,  
With Learning, Conduct, Fortitude,  
Incomparable: and as the Prince  
Of Poets, Homer, sung long since,  
A skilful Leech is better far  
Than half a hundred men of Wa●…;  
So he appeared, and by his skill,  
No less than Dint of Sword, could kill.   

The Gallant Bruin marched next him,  
With Visage formidably grim,  
And rugged as a Saracen,  
Or Turk of Mahomet's own king  
Clad in a Mantle della Guer  
Of rough impenetrable Fur;  
And in his Nose, like Indian King,  
He wore for ornament a Ring;  
About his Neck a threefold Gorget,  
As tough as trebled leathrens Target;  
Armed, as Heralds cant, and languid,  
Or, as the Vulgar say, sharp-fanged.  
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 Victual with.   

He was by birth, some Authors write,  
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 body's ditches there.  
Scrimansky was his Cousin-german,  
With whom he served, and fed on Vermin:  
And when they failed he'd suck his claws,  
And quarter himself upon his paws.  
And though his Countrymen, the Huns,  
Did stew their meat between their Bums,  
And th' Horses backs o'er which they straddle,  
And every man eat up his Saddle:  
He was not half so nice as they,  
But eat it raw, when't came in's way.  
He had traced Countries far and near,  
More than Le Blane the Traveller;  
Who writes, He Spoused in India  
Of Noble house a Lady gay,  
And got on her a race of Worthies,  
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 saved Citizen: the one  
To guard his Bear, the other fought  
To aid his Dog; both made more stout  
By several spurs of Neighbourhood,  
Church-fellow-membership, and blood;  
But Talgol, mortal so to Cows,  
Never got aught of him but blows;  
Blows hard and heavy, such as he  
Had lent, repaid with Usury.   

Yet Talgol was of Courage stour,  
And vanquished oftener than he fought  
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  
Did, like another Guy, overthrow.  
But Guy with him in fight compared,  
Had like the Boar or Dun Cow fared.  
With greater Troops of sheep h'had fought  
Then Ajax, or bold Don Quixot:  
And many a Serpent of fell kind,  
With wings before & stings behind,  
Subdued; as Poets say, long agone  
Bold Sir George, St. George did the Dragon.  
Nor Engine, nor Device Polemick,  
Disease, nor Doctor Epidemic,  
Though stored with Deletary Medicines,  
(Which whosoever took is dead since)  
e'er sent so vast a Colony  
To both the under worlds as he.  
For he was of that noble Trade  
That Demigods and Heroes made,  
Slaughter, and knocking on the head;  
The Trade to which they all were bred;  
And is, like others, glorious when  
'Tis great and large, but base if mean.  
The former rides in Triumph for it;  
The latter in a two-wheeled Chariot,  
For daring to profane a thing  
So sacred, with vile bungleing,  
Next these the brave Magnano came,  
Magnano great in martial ●…ame.  
Yet when with Orsin he waged fight,  
'Tis sung he got but little by't.  
Yet he was fierce as forrest-Bore,  
Whose spoils upon his back he wore,  
As thick as Ajax sev'n-sold Shield,  
Which o'er his brazen Arms he held,  
But Brass was seeble to resist  
The sury of his armed fist,  
Nor could the hardest Ir'n hold out  
Against his blows, but they would through't   

In Magic he was deeply read,  
As he that made the Brazenhead;  
Profoundly skilled in the black Art,  
As English Merlin for his heart;  
But far more skilful in the Spheres,  
Than he was at the Sieve and Shears.  
He could transform himself in colour  
As like the Devil as a Collier:  
As like as Hypocrites in show  
Are to true Saints, or Crow to Crow.   

Of warlike Engines he was Author,  
Devised for quick dispatch of slaughter;  
The Cannon, Blunderbuss, and Saker,  
He was th' Inventor of, and Maker:  
The Trumpet, and the Kettle Drum,  
Did both from his invention come.  
He was the first that 〈◊〉 did teach  
To make, and how to stop a breach.  
A Lance he bo●… with Iron. pike,  
Th' one half would thrust, the other strike:  
And when their forces h●… had joined,  
He scorned to turn his Parts behind.   

He Trulla loved, Trulla more bright  
Than burnished Armour of her Knight:  
A bold Virago, stout and tall  
As Joan of France, or English Mall.  
Through 〈◊〉 both of Wind and Limb,  
Through thick & thin she followed him,  
In every Adventure he undertook,  
And never him or it forsook.  
At breach of Wall, or Hedge-surprize,  
She shared in th'hazard, and the prize:  
At beating quarters up, or forage,  
Behaved herself with matchless courage;  
And laid about in fight more busily,  
Thenth ' Amazo●…in Dame, Penthesile.   

And though some Critics here cry shame,  
And say our Authors are to blame,  
That (spite of 〈◊〉 Philosophers,  
Who hold no females sto●…, but Bears.)  
Make feeble Ladies, in their works,  
To fight like Ter●…gants and Turks;  
To lay their native Arms aside.  
Their modesty, and ride a-stride;  
To run a 〈◊〉 at men, and wield  
Their naked tools in open field;  
As stout Armida, bold Thalestris,  
And she that would have been the Mistress  
Of Gundibert, but he had grace,  
And rather took a Country Lass:  
They say'tis false, without all sense,  
But of petnicious consequence  
To Government, which they suppose  
Can never be upheld in prose:  
Strip Nature naked to the skin,  
You're found about her no such thing.  
It may be so, yet what we tell  
Of Trulla; that's improbable,  
Shall be deposed by those have seen 't,  
Or, what 's as good, produced in print  
And if they will not take our word,  
We'll prove it true upon record.   

The upright Cerdon next advanced,  
Of all his Race the Valiantest;  
Cerdon the Great, renowned in Song,  
Like hercules, for repair of wrong:  
He raised the low, and fortisyed  
The weak against the strongest side.  
Ill has he read; that never hit  
On him in Muses deathless writ.  
He had a weapon keen and fierce,  
That through a Bull-hide-shield would pierce,  
And 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 pieces,  
Though 〈◊〉 than 〈◊〉 Knight of Greece his;  
With when his black thumbed Ancestor  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in the ten years' war:  
For 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Greeks, sare down  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 before Troy sown,  
And 〈◊〉 ●…nown'd, as Homer writes,  
For 〈◊〉 Boots, no less than sights:  
They owed that glo●… only to  
His Ancestor that made them so.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 he was to Reformation,  
〈◊〉 'twas worn quite out of fashion.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of Wry Law,  
And would make 〈◊〉, to c●…re one flaw.  
Learned he was, and could take note,  
Transcribe, collect, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and quote,  
But Preaching was his chiefest Talon,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉, in which ●…ng valiant,  
He 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 about, and 〈◊〉,  
Like Run or Bulls at 〈◊〉  
,  
Do 〈◊〉 with 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 from Skulls.   

,  
 
.  
,  
 
 
Some other Knights, was true of this,  
He and his Horse were of a piece,  
One Spirit did inform them both,  
The selfsame 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.  
Strange food for horse! and yet, alas!  
It may be true, for flesh is grass.  
Sturdy he was, and no less able,  
Then Hercules to cleanse a Stable;  
As great: Drover, and as great  
A Critic too in Hog or Neat,  
He ripped the womb up of his Mother,  
Dune Tellus, 'cause she wanted Father.  
And Provender, wherewith to feed  
Himself, and his less cruel Steed.   

It was a question, whether He,  
Or 's Horse were of a Family  
More Worshipful: till Antiquaries,  
(After th'had almost poured out their eyes,)  
Did very learnedly decide  
The business on the Horse's side,  
And proved not only Horse, burr Cows,  
Nay Pigs, were of the elder house:  
For beasts, when man was but a piece  
Of ea●…h himself, did th'earth possess.  
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  
Of several Countries round about;  
From Villages remote, and Shires,  
Of East and Western Hemispheres:  
From foreign Parishes, and Regions,  
Of different manners, speech, Religions,  
Came men and mastiffs; some to fight  
For fame and honour, some for sight  
And now the field of death, the lists,  
Were entered by Antagonists,  
And blood was ready to be broached;  
When Hudibras in haste approached,  
With Squire, and weapons to attack them:  
But first thus from his Horse bespoke them.   

What Rage O Citizens, what fury  
Doth you to these dire actions hurry;  
What Oestrum, what phrenetick mood,  
Makes you thus lavish of your blood,  
While the proud vieth your Trophies boast,  
And unrevenged walks— ghost?  
What Towns, what Garrisons might you  
With hazard of this blood subdue,  
Which now y'are bend to throw away  
In vain, untriumphable fray?  
Shall Saints in Civil bloodshed wallow  
Of Saints, and let the Cause lie fallow?  
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 Sweeting to begin,  
The Solemn League and Covenant,  
Will seem a meet 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 selfsame thing,  
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,  
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 Martyr,  
Wore in their hats like wedding-garters,  
When 'twas resolved 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  
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,  
When Tinker's bawd aloud, to settle  
Church-Discipline, or patching Kettle  
No Sow gelder did blow his horn  
To get a ●a●, but cried Reform.  
The Oyster-women locked their fish up,  
And trudged away to cry No Bishop.  
The Mousetrap men laid Saveall's by,  
And 'gainst evil Counselors did cry.  
B●●chers left old clothes in the lurch.  
And fell to turn and patch the Church.  
Some cried the Covenant instead  
Of Pudding Pics, and Gingerbread  
And some for Broom, old Boots and Shoes,  
Cried out to purge the Commons House:  
Instead of Kitchenstuff, some 〈◊〉,  
A 〈◊〉 preaching-Ministry;  
And 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Old s●i●● Coats, or Cloak,  
No ●uplicer, nor Service book;  
A 〈◊〉 harmoni●● in●●●●●●on  
O ●all dog 〈◊〉 in 〈◊〉  
And 〈◊〉 this All 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 these ●  
〈…〉  
〈…〉  
A 〈…〉  
〈…〉  
D●● 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 b●i●g in their Pla●e,  
And 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 they 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉?  
For when they thought the Cause had need on't,  
Happy was he that could be rid on'r.  
Did they coin Piss-pots, Bowls, and Flagons,  
Int' Officers of Horse and Dragoons;  
And into Pikes and Musketeers  
Stamp Beakers, Cups, and Porringers?  
A Thimble, Bodkin, and a Spoon  
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 all Gold and Plate,  
The brethren's off'tings, consecrate  
Like the Hebrew-calf, and down before it  
The Saints sell prostrate, to adore it.  
So say the Wicked— and will you  
Make that Sarcasmous Scandal true,  
By running after Dogs and Bears,  
Beasts more unclean than Calves or Steers?  
Have Powerful Preachers plied their tongues,  
And laid themselves out and their lungs;  
Used all means, both direct and sinister,  
I'th' power of Gospel-preaching Minister,  
Have they invented Tones, to win  
The Women, and make them draw in  
The men, as Indians with a female  
〈◊〉 Elephant, inveigle the male?  
Have they told providence what it must do,  
Whom to avoid, and whom to trust to?  
Disc●…r'd th' Enemy's design,  
And which way best to countermine;  
Prescribed what way is it hath to work,  
Or it will ne'er advance the Kirk;  
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  
To their Creator th' Parliament)  
In which they freely will confess,  
They will not, cannot acquiesce,  
Unless the Work be carried on  
In the same way they have begun,  
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  
To't self, and sent them, like Commissions,  
To Well-affected Persons, down  
In every City and great Town;  
With power to levy Horse and Men,  
Only to bring them back again:  
For this did many, many a mile,  
Ride manfully in Rank and File,  
With Papers in their hats, that showed  
As if they to the Pillory road.  
Have all these courses, these efforts,  
Been tried 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?  
Shall we that in the Covenant swore,  
Each man of us to run before  
Another still in Reformation,  
Give Dogs and Bears a Dispensation?  
How will dissenting Brethren relish it?  
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 hindmost,  
Which at this Race is like to win most.  
They'll say our business to reform  
The Church and State, is but a worm;  
For to transcribe a Church invisible,  
As we have sworn to do, it is a bull:  
For when we swore to do it after  
The best reformed Churches that are,  
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 the selfsame case  
With theirs that swore Et caeteras;  
Or the French League, in which men vowed  
To fight to the last drop of blood.  
These slanders will be thrown upon  
The Cause and Work we carry on,  
If we per●…t men to run headlong  
T' 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 fit for Bedlam,  
Rather than Gospel-walking times,  
When 〈◊〉 sins are greatest Crimes,  
But we the matter so shall handle,  
As to remove that odious scandal.  
In name of King and Parliament,  
I charge ve all, no more foment  
This feud, but keep the peace between  
Your 〈◊〉, and your Countryman;  
And to those places straight repair,  
Where your respective dwellings are,  
But to that purpose first surrender  
The Fiddle, as the prime offender,  
Th' incen●…y vile, that is chief  
Author and Engineer of mischief;  
That makes division between friends,  
For pro●…●…nd meligliant ends.  
He and that Engine of vile noise,  
On which illegally he plays,  
Shall (did 〈◊〉) both be brought  
To 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as th' aught.  
This must be done, and I would 〈◊〉 see  
Mortal 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as to gun-say:  
For 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 another course,  
And soon Reduce you all by force.  
Th●… said, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 his hand on Sword,  
To show 〈◊〉 to keep his word.  
But Talgol, who had long suppressed  
Inflamed wrath in glowing breast,  
Which now began to rage and burn as  
Implacably as flame in Furnace,  
Thus answered him. Thou Vermin wretched,  
As e'er in Meazeled Pork was hatched;  
Thou Tail of Worship, that dost grow  
On Rump of Justice, as of Cow;  
How dat'st thoy with that sullen Luggage  
O'thy self, old 〈◊〉, and other Baggage,  
With which thy Steed of Bones and Leather,  
Is lamed and tired in halting hither;  
How durst th', I say, adventure thus  
T'oppose thy Lumber against us?  
Could thin●… Impertinence find out  
No work ●…employ itself about,  
Where thou secure from wooden blow  
Thy busy vanity mightst show?  
Was no dispute afoot between  
The Caterwauling Brethren?  
No subtle Question raised among  
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 mightst stickle without hazard  
Of outrage to thy hide and mazzard,  
And not for want of business come  
To us to be thus troublesome,  
To interrupt our better 〈◊〉  
Of Disputants, and spoil our sport?  
Was there no Felony, no Bawd,  
Cutpurse, nor Burglary abroad?  
No Stolen Pig, nor Plundered Goose,  
To tie thee up from breaking loose?  
No Ale unlicened, broken hedge,  
For which thou Statute mightst allege,  
To keep thee busy from foul evil,  
And shame due to thee from the Devil?  
Did no Committee sit, where he  
Might cut out Journeywork for thee;  
And set th'a task, with subornation,  
To stitch up sale and sequestration;  
To cheat with Holiness and Zeal  
All Parties, and the Common-weal?  
Much better had it been for thee,  
H'had kept thee where thouart used to be;  
Or sent th' on business any whither,  
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 Stores,  
And Cudgels to thy Hide and Bones;  
Tremble, and vanish while thou may'st,  
Which I'll not promise if thou stayest.   

At this the Knight grew high in wroth,  
And lifting hands and eyes up both,  
Three times he smore on stomach stour,  
From whence at length these words broke out.  
Was I for this entitled Sir,  
And girt with trusty Sword and Spur,  
For fame and honour to wage Battle,  
Thus to be braved by foe to cattle?  
Not all the Pride that makes thee swell  
As big as thou dost blown-up Veal;  
Nor all thy tricks and slights to cheat,  
And sell thy Carrion for good meat;  
Not all thy Magic to repair  
Decayed old age in rough lean ware,  
Turn Death of Nature to thy work,  
And stop the Gangrene in stale Pork;  
Not all that force that makes thee proud,  
Because by Bullock ne'er withstood;  
Though armed with all thy Clevers, Knives,  
And Axe●…, 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,  
For civil deed and military.  
Nor shall these words of Venom base,  
Which thou hast from their native place,  
Thy stomach, pumped to sling on me,  
Go unteverged, though I am free.  
Thou down the same throat shalt devour 'em,  
Like tainted Beef, and pay dear sor sor.  
Nor shall it ere be said, that wight  
With Gauntlet blew, and Bases white,  
And round blunt Dudgeon by his side,  
So great a man at Arms defied  
With words far bi●…er 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.  
This said, with hasty rage he snatched  
His Gun-shot, that in Holsters watched;  
And bending Cock, he levelled full  
Against th' outside of Talgol's Skull;  
Vowing that he should ne'er stir further,  
Not henceforth Cow or Bullock murder.  
But Pallas came in shape of Rust,  
And 'twixt the Spring and Hammer thrnst  
Her Gorgon-shield, which made the Cock  
Stand stiff as 'twere transformed to stock.  
Mean while fierce Talgol garh'ring might,  
With rugged Trunche on smote at Knight.  
But he with Petronel upheaved,  
Instead of shield, the blow received,  
The Gun recoiled, as well it might,  
Not used to such a kind of sight,  
And shrunk from its great Master's gripe,  
Knocked down and st●…'d with mortal stripe,  
Then Hudibras with furious haste  
Drew out his Sword; yet not so fast,  
But Telgol first with hardy thwack,  
Twice b●…iz'd his head, and twice his back.  
But when his rug 〈◊〉 was out  
With stomach 〈◊〉 he 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
Imprinting many a wound 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
His mortal 〈◊〉 the 〈◊〉  
The trusty Cudgel did oppose  
Itself against dead-doing blows,  
To guard its Leader from fell bane,  
And then revenged itself again.  
And though the sword (some understood)  
In force had much the odds of wood;  
'Twas nothing so, both sides were balanced  
So equal, none knew which was valiantest,  
For wood with honour b'ing engaged,  
Is so implacably enraged,  
Though Iron hew and mangle sore,  
Wood wounds & bruises honour more.  
And now both Knights were out of breath,  
Tired in the hot pursuit of death;  
While all the rest amazed stood still,  
Expecting which should take or kill.  
This Hudibras observed, and fretting,  
Conquest should be so long a getting,  
He drew up all his force into  
One body, and that into one blow.  
But Talgol wisely avoided it  
●…y cunning sleight; for had it hit  
The upper part of him, the blow  
Had slit, as sure as that below.   

But now fierce Colon began draw on,  
To aid the distressed Champion.  
Him Ralph encountered, and strait grew  
A dismal Combat 'twixt them two:  
Th' one armed with mettle, th' other wood;  
This fit for bruise, and that for blood.  
With many a stiff thwack, many a bang,  
Hard Crabtree, and old Iron rang;  
While none that saw them cold divine  
To which side conquest would incline:  
Until Magnano, who did envy  
That two should with so many men vie,  
By subtle s●…ratagem of brain,  
Performed what force could ne'er attain.  
For he, by soul hap having found  
Where Thistle grew on barren ground,  
Her 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 underneath the Tail  
Of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as sharp as nail.  
The angry beast did strait esent,  
And feel regret on fundament,  
〈◊〉 to kick, and fling, and wince,  
As if he had been beside his sense,  
Striving to disengage from thistle,  
That galled him sorely under his tail.  
Instead of which he threw the pack  
Of Squire, and baggage from his back;  
And blundring still, with smarting rump,  
He gave the Knight's Steed such a thump,  
As made him feel. The Knight did stoop,  
And sat on further side a slope.  
This Talgol viewing, who had now  
By slight ●…eap'd the fatal blow,  
He rallied, and again fell to't;  
〈◊〉 catching ice by nearer foot,  
He lifted with such might and strength,  
As would have hurled him thrice his length,  
And dashed his brains (if any) out.  
But Mars, that still protects the stout,  
In pudding-time came to his aid,  
And under him the Bear conveyed;  
The Bear, upon whose soft fur-gown,  
The Knight with all his weight fell down.  
The friendly rug preserved the ground,  
And headlong Knight from bruise or wound:  
Like featherbed betwixt a wall,  
And heavy brunt of Cannon-ball.  
As Sancho on a blanket fell,  
And had no hurt; ours fated as well  
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 roared, and raged, and flung about,  
To shake of bondage from his snour.  
His wrath inflamed, boiled o'er, & from  
His jaws of death he threw the foam.  
Fury in stranger postures threw him,  
And more, than ever He rauld drew him.  
He tore the earth, which he had saved  
From squelch of Knight, and stormed, and raved;  
And vexed the more, because the harms  
He felt were against the Law of Arms:  
For men he always took to be  
His friends, and Dogs the enemy:  
Who never so much hurt had done him,  
As his own side did falling on him.  
It grieved him to the guts, that they  
For whom he had fought so many a fray,  
And served with loss of blood so long,  
Should offer such inhuman wrong;  
Wrong of unsouldier-like condition:  
For which he flung down his Commission,  
And laid about him, till his nose,  
From thrall of ring and cord broke lose.  
Soon as he sell himself enlarged,  
Through thickest of his foes he charged,  
And made way through th' amazed crew.  
Some he o'reran, and some o'erthrew,  
But took none, for by hasty flight  
He strove t' escape pursu'e of Knight,  
From whom he fled with as much haste,  
And dread, as he th●… Rabble chased.  
In haste he fled, and so did they,  
Each and his fear a several way.   

Crowdero only kept the field,  
Not stir●…g from the place he held,  
Though beaten down, and wounded sore,  
I'th' Fiddle, and a Leg that bore  
One side of him, not that of bone,  
But, much its betters, th' wooden one.  
He spying Hudibras lie strowed  
Upon the ground, like log of wood,  
With fright of fall, supposed wound,  
And loss of Urine, cast in swound;  
In haste he snatched the wooden limb  
That hurt in th' ankle lay by him,  
And listing it for sudden fight,  
Strait drew it up, to fall on Knight.  
For getting up on stump and huckle,  
He with the foe began to buckle,  
Vowing to be revenged for breach  
Of Crowd, and skin upon the wretch,  
Sole Author of all Detriment  
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)  
Looking about, beheld pernition  
Approaching Knight from fell Musician.  
He snatched his Whiniard up, that fled  
When he was falling off his Steed,  
(As Rats do from a falling house,)  
To hide itself from rage of blows;  
And winged with speed and fury, flew  
To rescue Knight from black and blue.  
Which e'er he could achieve, his Sconce  
The Skin encountered twice and once;  
And now 'twas raised to smite again,  
When Ralpho thrust himself between,  
He took the blow on side and arm,  
To shield the Knight entra●…nc'd from harm;  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 w●…h force, bestowed  
O●… th' wooden 〈◊〉 such a load,  
That 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 with 〈◊〉 bore  
Crowdero whom it propped be●…re.  
To him the Squire right 〈◊〉 run,  
And seeing conquering ●…oor upon  
His 〈◊〉, thus 〈◊〉: What desperate frenzy  
Made th●… (thou whelp of sin) to fancy  
Thyself and all that coward Rabble  
T' encounter us in battle able?  
How 〈◊〉 th', I say, oppose thy Curship  
Against Arms, Authority and Worship?  
And Hudibras, or me provoke,  
Though all thy limbs were heart of Oak,  
And th' other half of thee as good  
〈◊〉 our blows as that of wood?  
Could ot the whipping post prevail  
With all its empiric, 〈◊〉 the Gaol,  
To keep from flaying 〈◊〉 thy skin,  
〈◊〉 ●…nkle free from Iron gin?  
Which 〈◊〉 thou shalt— but first our care  
〈◊〉 see how Hudibras doth ●…re  
This 〈◊〉 gently raised the Knight,  
And 〈◊〉 him on hi●… 〈◊〉 upright:  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 from 〈◊〉 dump,  
〈◊〉 weaked nose with gentle thump,  
〈◊〉 on his breast, as if't had been  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the 〈◊〉 lodged within.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 with the noise, did sly  
From 〈◊〉 ●…oom to window eye,  
And gently opening 〈◊〉, ●…he ca●…ment,  
Looked 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 Conquerout;  
As high, victorious, and great,  
As e'er fought for the Churches yet,  
If you will give yourself but leave,  
To make out what ye already have;  
That's Victory. The foe, for dread  
Of your Nine-worthiness is fled,  
All save Crowdero, for whose sake  
You did th' espoused Cause undertake:  
And he lies prisoner at your feet,  
To be disposed as you think meet,  
Either for life, or death, or sale,  
The Gallows, or perpetual Goal.  
For one wink of your powerful eye  
Must sentence him to live or die.  
His Fiddle is your proper purchase,  
Won in the service of the Churches;  
And by your doom must be allowed  
To be, or be no more a Crowd.  
For though success did not confer  
Just Title on the Conqueror;  
Though dispensations were not strong  
Conclusions whether right or wrong;  
Although Out-going did not confirm,  
And Owning were but a mere term:  
Yet as the wicked have no right  
To th' Creature, though usurped by might,  
The property is in the Saint,  
From whom th' injuriously detained;  
Of him they hold their Luxuries,  
Their Dogs, their Horses, Whores, and Dice,  
Their Riots, Revels, Masks, Delights,  
Pimps, Buffoons, Fiddlers, Parasites:  
All which the Saints have title to,  
And aught t' enjoy, if th' had their due.  
What we take from them is no more  
Than what was ours by right before.  
For we are their true Landlords still,  
And they our Tenants but at will.   

At this the Knight begnn to rouse,  
And by degrees grow valorous.  
He stated about, and seeing none,  
Of all his foes remain but one,  
He snatched his weapon that lay near him,  
And from the ground began to rear him;  
Vowing to make Crowdero pay  
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 raised too high, this Slave does merit  
To be the Hangman's business, 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,  
Or ill entreat his Fiddle or Case.  
Will you, Great Sir, that glory blot  
In cold blood which you gained in hot?  
Will you employ your Conquering Sword,  
To break a Fiddle and your word?  
For though I fought, and overcame,  
And Quarter gave, 'twas in your name.  
For great Commanders always own  
What's prosperous by the Soldier done.  
To save, where you have power to kill,  
Argues your Power above your Will;  
And that your will and power have less  
Than both might have of selfishness.  
This power which now alive with dread  
He trembles at, if he were dead,  
Would no more keep the slave in awe,  
Then 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,  
Or honour from his death to you;  
'Twere policy, and honour too,  
To do as you resolved to do.  
But, Sir, 'twould wrong your Valour much,  
To say it needs or fears a Crutch.  
Great Conquerors greater glory gain  
By foes in Triumph led, then slain:  
The Law●…s that adorn their brows  
Are pulled from living, not dead boughs,  
And living foes the greatest fame  
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 dubbed Knight.  
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 tried:  
Where if h'appear so bold or crafty,  
There may be danger in his safety;  
If any Member there dislike  
His Face, or to his Beard have pike;  
Or if his death will save, or yield,  
Revenge, or fright, it is revealed,  
Though he has Quarter, nevertheless  
YE have power to hang him when you please.  
This hath been often done by some  
Of our great Conquerors, you know whom:  
〈◊〉 has by most of us been held  
Wise Justice, and to some revealed.  
For and promises that yoke  
The Conqueror, are quickly broke,  
Like Sampson's Cu●…, though by his own  
Direction and advice put on.  
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;  
But to the Wicked, or the Weak  
We must be cautious to declare  
Perfection-truths, such as these are.   

This said, the high out ragious mettle  
Of Knight began to cool and settle.  
He liked the Squire's advice, and soon  
Resolved to see the business done:  
And therefore charged him first to bind  
Crowdero's hands on rump behind,  
And to its former place and use  
The Wooden member to reduce:  
But force it take an Oath before,  
ne'er to bear arms against him more.   

Ralpho dispatched with speedy haste,  
And having tied Crowdero fast,  
He gave Sir Knight the end of Cord,  
To lead the Captive of his Sword  
In triumph, while the Steeds he caught,  
And them to further service brought.  
The Squire in state rode on before,  
And on his nut-brown Whinyard bore  
The Trophy- Fiddle, and the Case,  
Leaning on shoulder like a Mace.  
The Knight himself did after ride,  
Leading Crowdero by his side,  
And towed him, if he lagged behind,  
Like Boat against the Tide and Wind.  
Thus grave and solemn they march on,  
Until quite through the Town th' had gone.  
At further end of which there stands  
An ancient Castle, that commands  
Th' adjacent parts; in all the fabric  
You shall not see one stone nor a brick,  
But all of wood, by powerful Spell  
Of Magic made impregnable.  
There's neither Iron-bat, nor Gate,  
Portcullis, Chain, or Bolt, or Grate  
And yet men durance there abide,  
In Dungeon scarce three inches wide;  
With Roof so low, that under it  
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 confined,  
With walls of subtle Air and Wind,  
Which none are able to break through,  
Until theyare freed by head of Burrough.  
Thither arrived, th' adventurous Knight  
And bold Squire from their Steeds alight,  
At th'outward wall, near which there stands  
A Bastile, built t'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.  
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,  
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 Trophy, place.  
That done, they open 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,  
And the survivor of his feet:  
But th' other, that had broke the peace,  
And head of Knight hood, they release,  
Though a Delinquent false and forged,  
Yet b'ing a Stranger, he's enlarged;  
While his Comrade, that did no hurt,  
Is clapped up fast in Prison for't.  
So Justice, while she winks at Crimes,  
Stumbles on Innocence sometimes.    

THE ARGUMENT OF THE THIRD CANTO.  

The scattered Rout return and rally,  
Surround the Place; the Knight does sally,  
And is made Prisoner: then they seize  
The Enchanted Fort by storm, release  
Crowdero, and put the Squire in's place.  
I should have first said, Hudibras.   
CANTO III.  

AY me! what perils do environ  
The man that meddles with cold Iron!  
What plaguy mischiefs and mishaps  
Do 〈◊〉 him still with after-claps!  
For though Dame Fortune seem to smile  
And leer upon him for a while;  
She'll after show him, in the nick  
Of all his Glories, a Dogtrick.  
This any man may sing or say,  
I'th' Ditty called, What if a day.  
For Hudibras, who thought h'had won  
The field as sure as a Gun,  
And having routed the whole Troop,  
With Victory was Cock-a-hoop;  
Thinking h'had done enough to purchase  
Thanks giving-day among the Churches,  
Wherein his Mettle and brave Worth  
Might be explained by Holder-forth,  
And registered by fame eternal,  
In Deathless Pages of Diurnal;  
Found in few minutes, to his cost,  
He did but Count without his Host;  
And that a Turnstile is more certain,  
Then in events of War Dame Fortune.  
For now, the late-faint-hearted Rout,  
O'er thrown and scattered round about,  
Chased by the horror of their fear  
From bloody fray of Knight and Bear,  
(All but the Dogs, who in pursuit  
Of the Knight's Victory stood to't,  
And most ignobly sought to get  
The Honour of his blood and sweat)  
Seeing the coast was free and clear  
O'th' Conquered and the Conqueror,  
Took heart of grace, and faced about,  
As if they meant to stand it out:  
For by this time, the routed Bear  
Attaqu'd by th' Enemy i'th' Rear,  
Finding their number grew too great  
For him to make a safe retreat,  
Like a bold Chieftain faced about,  
But wisely doubting to hold out,  
Gave way to Fortune, and with hast  
Faced the proud so, and fled, and faced,  
Retiring still, until he found  
HE had got th'advantage of the Ground,  
And then as valiantly made head,  
To check the foe, and forthwith fled;  
Leaving no Art untried, nor Trick  
Of Warrior stout and politic.  
Until in spite of hot pursuit,  
He gained a pass to hold dispute  
On better terms, and stop the course  
Of the proud foe. With all his force  
He bravely charged, and for a while  
Forced their whole Body to recoil:  
But still their numbers so increased,  
He found himself at length oppressed,  
And all evasions so uncertain,  
To save himself for better fortune,  
That he resolved, rather than yield,  
To die with honour in the field,  
And sell his hyde and carcase at  
A price as high and desperate  
As ere he could. This resolution  
He forthwith put in execution,  
And bravely threw himself among  
The enemy in the greatest throng.  
But what could single valour do  
Against so numerous a foe?  
Yet much he did, indeed too much  
To be believed, where th'odds was such:  
But one against a multitude,  
Is more than mortal can make good,  
For while one party he opposed,  
His Rear was suddenly enclosed,  
And no room left him for retreat,  
Or fight against a foe so great.  
For now the Mastiffs charging home  
To blows and handy-gripes were come;  
While manfully himself he bore,  
And setting his right-foot before,  
He raised himself, to show how tall  
His Person was, above them all.  
This equal shame and envy stirred  
In th'enemy, that one should beard  
So many Warriors and so stout  
As he had done, and staved it out,  
Disdaining to lay down his Arms,  
And yield on honourable terms.  
Enraged thus some in the rear  
Attacked him, and some every where;  
Till down he fell, yet falling fought,  
And being down still laid about;  
As Widdrington in doleful Dumps  
●…s said to fight upon his stumps.   

But all, alas! had been in vain,  
And he inevitably slain,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 in the nick  
To 〈◊〉 him had not been quick,  
For 〈◊〉 who was ●…ight of foot.  
〈◊〉 which longfield 〈◊〉 shoot,  
(But not so light as to be born  
Upon the ears of standing Corn,  
Or trip it o'er the Water quicker  
Than Witches when their staves they liquor,  
As some report) was got among  
The foremost of the Martial throng;  
Where pitrying the vanquished Bear,  
She called to Cerdon, who stood near  
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 sears already h'has achieved,  
In story not to be believed:  
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:  
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 our.  
This said, they waved their weapons round  
About their heads, to clear the ground:  
And joining forces laid about  
So fiercely, that th'amazed rout  
Turned tail again, and strait begun,  
As if the Devil drove, to run.  
Mean while th' approached the place where  
Was now engaged to mortal ruin: (Bruin  
The conquering foe they soon assailed;  
First Trulla staved, and Cerdon tailed,  
Until the Mastiffs loosed their hold:  
And yet, alas! do what they could,  
The worsted Bear came off with store  
Of bloody wounds, but all before.  
For as Achilles dipped in Pond,  
Was anabaptized free from wound,  
Made proof against dead-doing steel  
All over but the Pagan heel:  
So did our Champion's Arms descend  
All of him but the other end,  
His head and ears, which in the martial  
Encounter lost a leathern parcel.  
For as an Ausirian Archduke once  
Had one ear (which in Ducatoons  
Is half the Coin) in battle pared  
Close to his head; so Bruin fared:  
But tugged and pulled on th'other side,  
Like Scrivener newly crucified;  
Or like the late corrected Leathern  
Ea●… of the circumeised brethren.  
But gentle Trulla into th' ring  
He wore in●…s nose conveyed a string,  
With which she mareht before, and led  
The Warrior to a grassy Bed,  
As ●…uthors write, in a cool shade,  
Which 〈◊〉 glentine and Roses made,  
Close by a softly-murm'ring stream  
Where Lovers used to loll and dream.  
There leaving him to his repose,  
Secured from pursuit of foes,  
And wanting nothing but a Song,  
And a well-tuned Theorbo bung  
Upon a bough, to ease the pain  
His tugged ears suffered, with a strain.  
They both drew up, to march in quest  
Of his great Leader, and the rest.   

For Orsin (who was more renowned  
For stout maintaining of his ground  
In standing fights then for pursuit,  
As being not so quick of foot)  
Was not long able to keep pace  
With others that pursued the Chase,  
But found himself left far behind,  
Both out of heart and out of wind;  
Grieved to behold his Bear pursued  
So basely by a multitude,  
And like to fall, not by the prowess,  
But numbers of his Coward foes.  
He raged and kept as heavy a coil as  
Stout Hercules for loss of Hylas,  
Forcing the Valleys to repeat  
The Accents of his sad regret.  
He beat his breast, and tore his hair,  
For loss of his dear Crony Bear:  
That Echo from the hollow ground  
His dolesull wail did resound  
More wistfully, by many times,  
Then in small Poet's splay-foot ●…es,  
That make her, in their ruthful stories,  
To answer to interrogatories,  
And most unconscionably depose  
To things of which she nothing knows:  
And when she has said all she can say,  
'tis wrested to the Lover's fancy.  
Quoth he, O whether, wicked Bruin,  
A●…t thou fled to my— Echo, ruin?  
I thought th'hadst scorned to budge a step,  
For fear. (Quoth Echo) Marry guep.  
Am not I here to take thy part?  
Then what has quailed thy stubborn heart?  
Have these bones rattled, and this head  
So often in thy quarrel bled?  
Nor did I ever winch or grudge it,  
For thy dear sake. (Quoth she) Mum budget.  
Think'st thou 'twill not be laid i'th' dish,  
Thou turnedst thy back? Quoth Echo, Pish.  
To run from those th'hadst overcome  
Thus cowardly? Quoth Echo, Mum.  
But what a-vengeance makes thee sly  
From me too, as thine enemy?  
Or if thou hast no thought of me,  
Nor what I have endured for thee,  
Yet shame and honour might prevail  
To keep thee thus from turning rail:  
For who would'grutch to spend his blood in  
His honour's cause? Quoth she, a Puddin.  
This said, his grief to anger turned,  
Which in his manly stomach burned;  
Thirst of Revenge and Wrath, in place  
Of Sorrow, now began to blaze.  
He vowed the Authors of his woe  
Should equal vengeance undergo;  
And with his bones and 〈◊〉 pay dear  
For what he suffered and his Bear.  
This b'ing resolved, with equal speed  
And rage he hasted to proceed  
To action strait, 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, vowed  
He'd ferret him, lurk where he would.   

But scarce had he a furlong on  
This resolute adventure gone,  
When he encountered with that Crew  
Whom Hudibras did late subdue.  
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  
And resolute as ever fought:  
Whom furious Orsin thus bespoke,  
Shall we (quoth he) thus basely brook  
The vile affront, that paltry Ass,  
And feeble Scoundrel Hudibras,  
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,  
I for the washing gave my head:  
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 these fell wounds, or no,  
He has received 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  
That caused it, (as I shall no doubt,  
Where e'er th'in Hugger-mugger lurk)  
●…e make them rue their handiwork;  
And wish that they had rather dared  
To pull the Devil by the Beard.  
Quoth Cerdon, Noble Orsia, thoust  
Great reason to do as thou sayst;  
And so has every body here  
As well as thou hast or thy Bear,  
Others may do as they see good;  
But if this Twig he made of wood  
That will hold tack, l'se make the fur  
Fly 'bout the ears of the old Cut,  
And th' other mongrel Vermin, Ralph,  
That braved us all in his behalf.  
Thy Bear is safe, and out of peril,  
Though lugged 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,  
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 engaged to join  
Their forces in the same design:  
And forthwith put themselves in search  
Of Hudibras upon their march.  
Where leave we them a while, to tell  
What the Victorious Knight befell:  
For such, Crowdero being fast  
In Dangeon shut, we left him last.  
Triumphant Laurels seemed to grow  
No where so green as on his brow:  
Laden with which, as well as tited  
With conquering toil, he now retired  
Unto a neighbouring Castle by,  
To rest his body, and apply  
Fit medicines to each glorious bruise  
He got in fight, Reds, Blacks, and Blews;  
To mossifie the uneasy pang  
Of every honourable bang.  
Which b'ing by skilful Midwife dressed,  
He said him down to take his rest.  
But all in vain. HE had got a hurt  
O'th' inside, of a deadlier sort,  
By Cupid made, who took his stand  
Upon a widow's joynture-land,  
(For he, in all his amorous battles,  
No no dvantage finds like goods and chattels)  
As now he did, and aiming right,  
An arrow he let fly at Knight;  
The shast against a rib did glance,  
And gall him in the Purtenance.  
But time had somewhat swag'd his pain,  
After he found his suit in vain.  
For that proud Dame, for whom his soul  
Was burnt in's belly like a coal,  
(That belly, that so oft did ache,  
And suffer gripping for her sake,  
Till purging Comfits, and Ants eggs,  
Had almost brought him off his legs)  
Had him so like a base Rascallion,  
That Old Prg- (what d' ye call him?) malion,  
That cut his Mistress out of stone,  
Had not so hard-a-hearted one.  
She had a thousand jadish tricks,  
Worse than a Mule that flings and kicks:  
M●…g which one cross-grained freak she had,  
As insolent, as strange, and mad:  
She could love none but only such  
As scorned and hated her as much.  
'T was a strange Riddle of a Lady;  
Not love, if any loved her? ha day!  
So Cowards never use their might,  
But against such as will not fight.  
So some diseases have been found  
Only to seize upon the sound.  
He that gets her by heart, must say her  
The backway, like a Witch's Prayer.  
Meanwhile the Knight had no small task,  
To compass what he durst not ask.  
He loves, but dares not make the motion;  
Her ignorance is his devotion.  
Like Caitiff vile, that for misdeed  
Rides with his face to rump of steed,  
Or rowing Scull, he's fain to love,  
Look one way, and another move;  
Or like a Tumbler that does play  
His game, and look another way,  
Until he seize upon the Coney:  
Just so does he by Matrimony.  
But all in vain: her subtle snout  
Did quickly wind his meaning out;  
Which she returned with too much scorn,  
To be by man of honour born.  
Yet much he bore, until the distress  
He suffered from his spiteful Mistress  
Did stir his stomach, and the pain  
He had endured from her disdain  
Turned to regret, so resolute,  
That he resolved to wave his suit,  
And either to renounce her quite,  
Or for a while play least in sight.  
This resolution being put on,  
He kept some months, and more had done;  
But being brought so nigh by fate,  
The Victory he achieved so late,  
Did set his thoughts agog, and hope  
A door to discontinued hope.  
That seemed to promise he might win  
His Dame too now his hand was in;  
And that his valour, and the honour  
HE had newly gaired might work upon her.  
These reasons made his mouth to water  
With amorous longings to be at her.   

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 forced the Troop?  
If nothing can oppugn love,  
And virtue envious ways can prove,  
What may not he confide to do,  
That brings both love and virtue too?  
But thou bring'st valour too and wit,  
Two things that seldom sa●…l to hit.  
Valour's a Mousetrap, wit a gin,  
Which women oft are taken in.  
Then, Hudibras, why shouldst thou fear  
To be, that art a Conqueror?  
Fortune th' audacious doth juvare  
But let 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.   

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,  
As it he slept, until he spies,  
The little beast within his reach,  
Then starts, and seizeth on the wretch:  
So from his Couch the Knight did start,  
To seize upon the widow's heart;  
Crying with hasty tone, and hoarse,  
Ralpho, dispatch, to horse, to horse.  
And 'twas but time, for now the Rout,  
We lest engaged to seek him our,  
By speedy marches were advanced  
Up to the fo●… where he ensconced,  
And had all th' avenues postest  
About the place, from East to West.   

That done, a while they made a halt,  
To view the ground, &c where t'assault:  
Then called a Council, which was best,  
By fi●…e or onslaught, to invest  
The enemy: and 'twas agreed.  
By storm and onslaught to preceded.  
This being resolved, in comely sort,  
They now drew up t'attack the fort.  
When Hudibras, about to enter  
Upon another gate's adventure,  
To Ralpho called aloud to arm,  
Not dreaming of approaching storm.  
Whether Dame Fortune, or the care  
Of Angel bad, of Tutelar,  
Did aim, or thrust him on a danger,  
To which he was an utter stranger;  
That Foresight might, or might not blor  
The glory he had newly got;  
Or 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.  
His Courser scarce he had bestrid,  
And Ralpho that on which he rid;  
When setting open the Postern gate,  
Which they thought best to sally at,  
The Foe appeat'd, drawn up and drilled,  
Ready to charge them in the field.  
This somewhat startled the bold Knight,  
Surprised with th'unexpected sight,  
The bruises of his bones and flesh  
He thought began to smart afresh;  
Till recollecting wont Courage,  
His fear was soon converted to rage,  
And those he spoke: The Coward Foe,  
Whom we but now gave quarter to,  
Look, yonder's rallied, and appears,  
As if they had outrun their fears.  
The Glory we did lately get,  
The fares command us to repeat.  
And to their wills we must succumb,  
Quocunque trahunt, 'tis our doom,  
This is the same numeric Crew  
Which we so lately did subdue,  
The sel-same individuals that  
Did run, as Mice do from a Cat,  
When we courageously did wield  
Our martial weapons in the field,  
To tug for Victory: and when  
We shall our shining blades again  
Brandish in terror o'er our heads,  
They'll strait resume their wont dreads.  
Fear is an Ague, that forsakes  
And haunts by turns those whom it takes.  
And they'll opine they feel the pain  
And blows, they felt to day, again.  
Then let us boldly charge them home,  
And make no doubt to overcome.   

This said, his Courage to inflame,  
He called upon his Mistress name.  
His Pistol next he cock●… anew,  
And out his nut-brown whiniard drew,  
And placing Ralpho in the front,  
Resolved himself to be bear the brunt;  
As expert Warriors use: then plied  
With Iron-heel his Courser's side,  
Conveying Sympathetick speed  
From heel of Knight to heel of Steed.   

Meanwhile the so with equal rage  
And speed advancing to engage,  
Both Parties now were drawn so close,  
Almost to come to handiblows.  
When Orsin first let fly a stone  
A Ralpho: not so huge a one  
As that which Diomedes did maul  
Aeneas on the Bum withal:  
Yet big enough, if rightly hurled,  
T'have sent him to another world:  
Whether aboveground, or below,  
Which Saints twice dipped are destined to,  
The danger startled the bold Squire,  
And made him some few steps re●…e.  
But Hudibras advanced to's aid,  
And roused his spirits half dismayed.  
He, wisely doubting lest the shot  
Of th'enemy, now growing hot,  
Might at a distance gali, pressed close,  
To come, pellmell, to handiblows:  
And that he might their aim decline,  
Advanced still in an oblique line;  
But prudently forbore to sire,  
Till breast to breast he had got nigher.  
As expert Warriors use to do,  
When hand to hand they charge the foe.  
This order the adventurous Knight,  
Most Soldierlike observed in fight:  
When Fortune (as she's wont) turned fickle,  
And for the foe began to stickle.  
The more shame for her Goody-ship,  
To give so near a friend the slip.  
For Colon choosing out a stone,  
Levelled so right, it thumped upon  
His manly paunch with such a force,  
As almost beat him off his horse.  
He loosed his whiniard, and the rain;  
But laying fast hold on the mane,  
Preserved his seat: And as a Goose  
In death contracts his talons close;  
So did the Knight, and with one claw  
The tricker of his Pistol draw.  
The Gun went off: and as it was  
Still fatal to stout Hudibras,  
In all his feats of Arms, when least  
He dreamt of it, to prosper best;  
So now he fared: the shot let fly  
At random 'mong the enemy,  
Pierced Talgol's Gaberdine, and grazing  
Upon his shoulder, in the passing  
Lodged in Magnano's brass Habergeon,  
Who strait a Surgeon cried, a Surgeon.  
He tumbled down, and as he fell,  
Did Murder, murder, murder yell.  
This startled their whole body so,  
That if the Knight had not let go  
His Arms, but been in warlike plight,  
H'had won (the second time) the fight.  
As Ralpho might; but he with care  
Of Hudibras his hurt forbore,  
To press th'advantage of his fortune,  
While danger did the rest dishearten.  
For he with Cerdon b'ing engaged  
In close encounter, they both waged  
The fight so well, 'twas hard to say  
Which side was like to get the day.  
And now the busy work of death  
Had tired 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 forced them part.  
Ralpho pressed up to Hudibras,  
And Cerdon where Magnano was;  
Each striving to confirm his party  
With stour encouragements & hearty.  
Quoth Ralpho, Courage, valiant Sir,  
And ler revenge and honour stir  
Your spirits up, once more fall on,  
The shattered so begins to run:  
For if but half so well you knew  
To use your Victory as subdue,  
They durst not, after such a blow  
As you have 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  
Waved o'er their heads, and fled as oft.  
But if you let them recollect  
Their spirits, now dismayed and checked,  
You'll have a harder game to play,  
Then yet y'have had to get the day.   

Thus spoke the stout Squire; but was heard  
Of Hudibras with small regard.  
His thoughts were fuller of the bang  
He lately took, than Ralph's harangue;  
To which he answered, Cruel fate  
Tells me thy counsel comes too late.  
The knotted blood within my hose,  
That from my wounded body flows,  
With mortal Crisis doth portend  
My days to appropinque an end.  
I am for action now unfit,  
Either of fortitude or wit.  
Fortune my foe begins to frown,  
Resolved to pull my stomach down.  
I am not apt upon a wound,  
Or trivial basting, to despond:  
Yet I'd be loath my days to curtal.  
For if I thought my wounds not mortal,  
Or that we'd time enough as yet  
To make an honourable retreat,  
'twere the best course: but if they find  
We fly, and leave our Arms behind,  
For them to seize on, the dishonour  
And danger too is such, I'll sooner  
Stand to it boldly, and take quarter,  
To let them see I am no starter.  
In all the trade of War, no feat  
Is nobler than a brave retreat.   

This said, the Squire with active speed  
Dismounted from his bonny Steed,  
To seize the Arms which by mischance  
F●…ll from the bold Knight in a ●…rance.  
These being found out, and restored  
To Hudibras, their natural Lord,  
As a man may say, with might and main  
He hasted to get up again.  
Thrice he assayed to mount aloft,  
But by his weighty bum as oft  
He was pulled back: till having found  
Th' advantage of the rising ground,  
Thither he led his warlike steed,  
And having placed him right, with speed  
Prepared again to scale the beast.  
Whom Orsin, who had newly dressed  
The bloody scarupon the shoulder  
Of Talgol with Promethean powder,  
And now was searching for the shot  
That said Magnano on the spot,  
Beheld the sturdy Squire aforesaid  
Preparing to climb up his horse-side.  
He left his Cure, and laying hold  
Upon his Arms, with courage bold  
Cried out, 'Tis now no time to dally,  
The enemy begins to rally:  
Let us that are unhurt and whole  
Fall on, and happy man be's dole.   

This said, like to a thunderbolt  
He flew, with fury, to th' assault,  
Striving the enemy to attack,  
Before he reached his horse's back.  
Ralpho was mounted now, & gotten  
O'rethwart his Beast with active vault-  
Wriggling his body to recover (ing,  
His seat, and cast his right leg over;  
When Orsin rushing in, bestowed  
On horse and man so heavy a load,  
The Beast was startled, and begun  
To kick and fling like mad, and run,  
Bearing the tough Squire like a Sack,  
Or stout King Richard, on his back:  
Till stumbling he threw him down,  
Sore bruised, and cast into a swoon.  
Meanwhile the Knight began to rouse  
The sparkles of his wont 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 flowed.  
This, with the hazard of the Squire,  
Inflamed him with despightful ire;  
Courageously he faced about,  
And drew his other Pistol out,  
And now had halfway bend the cock  
When Cerdon gave so fierce a shock,  
With sturdy truncheon, thwart his arm,  
That down it fell, and did no harm;  
Then stoutly pressing on with speed,  
Assayed to pull him off his steed.  
The Knight his Sword had only left,  
With which he Cerdon's head had cleft,  
Or at the least cropped off a limb,  
But Orsin came and rescued him.  
He with his Lance attacked the Knight  
Upon his quarters opposite.  
But as a Bark that in foul weather,  
Tossed by two adverse winds together,  
Is bruised, and beaten to and fro,  
And knows not which to turn him to:  
So fared the Knight between two foes,  
And knew not which of them t' oppose.  
Till Orsin charging with his Lance  
At Hudibras, by spiteful chance  
H●…t Cerdon such a bang, as stunned  
And laid him flat upon the ground.  
At this the Knight began to cheer up,  
And raising up himself on stirrup,  
Cried out Victoria; lie thou there,  
And I shall strait dispatch another,  
To bear thee company in death:  
But first I'll halt a while and breath.  
As well he might: for Orsin grieved  
At th'wound that Cerdon had received  
Ran to relieve him with his lore,  
And cure the hurt he made before.  
Meanwhile the Knight had wheeled about,  
To breathe himself, and next find out  
Th' advantage of the ground, where best  
He might the ruffled foe infest.  
This b'ing resolved, he spurred 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  
Unto the part applied remedy;  
And seeing th' enemy prepared,  
Drew up, and stood upon his guard.  
Then like a Warrior right expert  
And skilful in the martial Art,  
The subtle Knight strait made a halt,  
And judged it best to stay th' assault,  
Until he had relieved the Squire,  
And then (in order) to retire;  
Or, as occasion should invite,  
With forces joined renew the sight.  
Ralpho by this time disentranced,  
Upon his Bum himself advanced,  
Though sorely bruised; his limbs all o'er  
With ruthless bangs were stiff and sore.  
Right fain he would have got upon  
His feet again, to get him gone;  
When Hudibras to aid him came.   

Quoth he (and called him by his name)  
Courage, the day at length is ours,  
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;  
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,  
In one day, Veni, vidi, vici.  
The Foe's so numerous, that we  
Cannot so often vincere  
As they perire, and yet enough  
Be left to strike an after-blow.  
Then lest they rally, and once more  
Put us to fight the business o'er,  
Get up, and mount thy Steed, dispatch,  
And let us both their motions watch.   

Quoth Ralph, I should not, if I were  
In case for action, now be her●…;  
Nor have I turned my back, or hanged  
An arse for fear of being banged:  
It was for you I got these harms,  
adventuring to fetch off your Arms.  
The blows and drubs I have received,  
Have bruised my body, and bereaved  
My limbs of strength: unless you stoop,  
And reach your hand to pull me up,  
I shall lie here, and be a prey  
To those who now are run away.   

That thou shalt not (quoth Hudibras:)  
We read, the Ancients held it was  
More honourable far Servare  
Civem, then slay an adversary.  
The one we oft to day have done;  
The other shall dispatch anon.  
And though th' art of a different Church,  
I will not leave thee in the lurch.   

This said, he jogged his good Steed nigher,  
And steered him gently toward the Squire:  
Then bowing down his body, stretched  
His hand out, and at Ralpho reached;  
When Trulla, whom he did not mind,  
Charged him like Lightning behind.  
She had been long in search about  
Magnano's wound, to find it out:  
But could find none, nor where the shot  
That had so startled him was got.  
But having found the worst was passed,  
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  
To succour him; for as he bo'wd  
To help him up, she laid a load  
Of blows so heavy, and placed so well,  
On th' other side, that down he fell.   

Yield, Scoundrel base (quoth she) or die;  
Thy life is mine, and liberty.  
But if thou think'st I took thee tardy,  
And dar'st presume to be so hardy,  
To try thy fortune o'er afresh,  
I'll wave my title to thy flesh,  
Thy Arms and baggage, now my right:  
And if thou hast the heart to try'r,  
I'll lend thee back thyself a while,  
And once more for that Carcase vile  
Fight upo●…tick— Quoth Hudibras,   

Thou offerest nobly valiant Lass,  
And I shall take thee at thy word.  
First let me rise, and take my sword;  
That sword, which has so oft this day,  
Through Squadrons of my foes made way,  
And some to other worlds dispatched,  
Now with a feeble Spinster matched,  
Will blush with blood ignoble stained,  
By which no her●… ur's to be gained.  
But if thou'lt take my advice in this,  
Consider while thou mayst, what 'tis  
To interrupt a Victor's course,  
B' opposing such a trivial force.  
For if with Conquest I come off,  
(And that I shall do sure enough)  
Quarter thou canst not have, nor grace;  
By Law of Arms, in such a case;  
Both which I now do offer freely.   

I scorn (quoth she) thou Coxcomb silly,  
(Clapping her hand upon her breech,  
To show how much she prized his speech)  
Quarter or counsel from a so:  
If thou canst force me to it, do.  
But lest it should again be said,  
When I have once more wore thy head,  
I took thee napping, unprepared,  
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 pressed so home,  
That he retired, and follow'd's bum.  
Stand to't, quoth she, or yield to mercy,  
It is not fight Arsy-varsy  
Shall serve thy turn— This stirred his spleen  
More than the danger he was in,  
The blows he felt or was to feel,  
Although th' already made him reel.  
Honour, despite, revenge, and shame,  
At once unto his stomach came;  
Which fired it so, he raised his arm  
Above his head, and reigned a storm  
Of blows so terrible and thick,  
As if be meant to hash her quick.  
But she upon her truncheon took them,  
And by oblique diversion broke them;  
Waiting an opportunity  
To pay all back with usury.  
Which long she failed not of, for now  
The Knight with one dead-doing blow,  
Resolving to decide the fight,  
And she with quick and cunning slight  
Avoiding it, the force and weight  
He charged upon it was so great,  
As almost swayed him to the ground.  
No sooner she th' advantage found,  
But in she flew, and seconding  
With home-made thrust the heavy swing,  
She said him flat upon his side,  
And mounting on his trunk a-stride,  
Quoth she, I told thee what would come  
Of all thy vapouring, base Scum.  
Shall I have quarrer now? you Ruffin;  
Or wilt thou be worse than thy huffing? (thou:  
Thou saidst th' wouldst kill me, marry woud'it  
Why dost thou not, thou Jack-a-Nods thou?  
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:  
My Laurels are transplanted now,  
And flourish on thy conquering brow:  
My loss of honour's great enough,  
Thou needest not brand it with a scoff:  
Sarcasmes may eclipse thine own,  
But cannot blur my lost renown:  
I am not now in Fortune's power,  
He that is down can fall no lower.  
The ancient Heroes were illustrious  
For being benign, and not blusterous,  
Against a vanquished foe: their swords  
Were sharp and trencheant, not their words;  
And did in fight but cut work out  
T' employ their courtesies about.   

Quoth she, Although thou hast deserved,  
Base Slubberdegullion, to be served  
As thou didst vow to deal with me,  
If thou hadst got the Victory,  
Yet I shall rather act a part  
That suits my fame, than thy desert.  
Thy Arms, thy liberty, beside  
All that's on th' outside of thy hide,  
Are mine by military law,  
Of which I will not bate one straw:  
The rest, thy life and limbs, once more,  
Though doubly forfeit, I restore.   

Quoth Hudibras, it is to late  
For me to treat, or stipulate;  
What thou command'st I must obey:  
Yet those whom I expugned to day.  
Of thine own party, I let go,  
And gave them life, and freedom too,  
Both Dogs and Bear, upon their parol,  
Whom I took prisoners in this quarrel.   

Quoth Trulla, Whether thou or they  
Let one another run away,  
Concerns not me: but was't not thou  
That gave Crowdero quarter too?  
Crowdero, whom in Irons bound,  
Thou basely threw'st into Lob's pound:  
Where still he lies, and with regret  
His generous bowels rage and fret.  
But now thy Carcase shall redeem,  
And serve to be exchange for him.   

This said, the Knight did strait submit,  
And laid his weapons at her feet.  
Next he disrobed his Gaberdine,  
And with it did himself resign.  
She took it, and forthwith divesting  
The mantle that she wore, said jesting,  
Take that, and wear it for my sake;  
Then threw it o'er his sturdy back.   

And as the French we conquered once,  
Now give us Laws for Pantaloons,  
The length of Breeches, and the gathers,  
Port-canons, Periwigs, and Feathers,  
Just so the proud insulting Lass  
Arrayed, and dighted Hudibras.   

Mean while the other Champions, yerst  
In hurry of the fight dispersed,  
Arrived, when Trulla'd won the day,  
To share in th' honour, and the prey,  
And out of Hudibras his hide,  
With vengeance to be satisfied;  
Which now they were about to pour  
Upon him in a wooden shower.  
But Trulla thrust herself between,  
And striding o'er his back again,  
She brandished o'er her head his sword,  
And vowed they should not break her word;  
she'd given 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  
By Hudibras, as yet lay fast,  
Where, to the hard and ruthless stones,  
His great heart made perpetual moans.  
Him she resolved that Hudibras  
Should ransom, and supply, his place.   

This stopped their fury, and the basting  
Which toward Hudibras was hasting.  
They thought it was but just and right.  
That what she had achieved in fight,  
She should dispose of how she pleased;  
Crowdero ought to be released;  
Nor could that any way be done  
So well as this she pitched upon:  
For who a better could imagine?  
This therefore they resolved t'engage in.   

The Knight and Squier 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 his beast,  
And Talgol that which Ralpho pressed,  
Whom stout Magnano, valiant Cerdon,  
And Colon waited as a Guard on.  
All ushering Trnlla, in the Rear,  
With th' Arms of either Prisoner.  
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, then shows  
And triumphs over conquered foes  
Do use t' allow, or then the Bears,  
Or Pageants born before Lord Mayors  
Are wont to use, they soon arrived,  
In order Soldierlike contrived,  
Still marching in a warlike posture,  
As fit for Battle as for Muster.  
The Knight and Squire they first unhorsed,  
And bending against the Fort their force,  
They all advanced, and round about,  
Begird 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;  
And with an Iron Mace laid flat  
A breach, which strait all entered at,  
And in the wooden Dungeon found  
Crowdero laid upon the ground.  
Him they release from durance base,  
Restored t' his Fiddle, and his Case,  
And liberty, his thirsty rage  
With luscious vengeance to assuage.  
For he no sooner was at large,  
But Trulla strait brought on her charge,  
And in the selfsame Limbo put  
The Knight and Squire, where he was shut.  
Where leaving them in Hockly i' th' hole,  
Their bangs and durance to condole,  
Confined and conjured into narrow  
Enchanted Mansion, to know sorrow;  
In the same order and array  
Which they advanced, they marched away.   

But Hudibras, who scorned to stoop  
To Fortune, or be said to droop,  
Cheered up himself with ends of verse,  
And sayings of Philosophers.  
Quoth he, Th' one half of man, his mind,  
Is Sui juris, unconfined,  
And cannot be laid by the heels,  
What ere the other moiety feels.  
'Tis not restraint or liberty  
That makes men prisoners or free;  
But perturbations that possess  
The mind or Aequanimities.  
The whole world was not half so wide  
To Alexander, when he cried  
Because he had but one to subdue,  
As was a paltry narrow tub to  
Diogenes, who is not said  
(For aught that ever I could read)  
To whine, put finger i' th' eye, and sob  
Because he had ne'er another Tub.  
The Ancients make two several kinds  
Of Prowess in heroic minds,  
The Active, and the Passive valiant;  
Both which are pari librâ gallant:  
For both to give blows, and to carry,  
In fights are equenecessary,  
But in defeats, the passive stout,  
Are always found to stand it out  
Most desp●…rately, and to outdo  
The active, against a conquering foe.  
Though we with blacks and blews are suggilled,  
Or, as the Vulgar say, are cudgelled:  
He that is valant, and dares fight,  
Though drubbed, can lose no honour by't.  
Honour's a leaf for time to come,  
And cannot be extended from  
The legal Tenant: 'tis a Chattel,  
Not to be forfeited in battle.  
If he that is in battle slain,  
Be in the Bed of Honour lain;  
He that is beaten may be said  
To lie in Honour's Truckle-bed.  
For as we see th' eclipsed Sun.  
By mortals is more gazed upon,  
Than when adorned with all his light,  
He shines in serene sky most bright:  
So Valour in a low estate  
Is most admired, and wondered at.  
Quoth Ralph, How great I do not know  
We may by being beaten grow;  
But none that see how here we sit,  
Will judge us overgrown with wit.  
As gifted Brethren preaching by  
A Carnal Hourglass, do imply  
Illumination can convey  
Into them what they have to say,  
But not how much: so well enough  
Know you ●…o charge, but not draw off.  
For who without a Cap and Bauble,  
Having subdued a Bear, and Rabble,  
And might with honour have come off,  
Would put it to a second proof;  
A politic exploir, tied fit,  
For Presbyterian zeal and wit.   

Quoth Hudibras, That cuckoo's tone,  
Ralpho, thou always harp'st upon:  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 any thing wouldst rail,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Presbytery thy scale  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 height o'er, and explain  
To what degree it is profane.  
What's ' ever will not with thy (what d' ye call)  
Thy light jump right, thou call'st Synodical.  
〈◊〉 Presbytery were a standard  
〈◊〉 what's ever's to be slandered.  
〈◊〉 not remember, how this day,  
Thou to my beard waste bold to say,  
That thou couldst prove Bear-baiting equal  
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  
That has but any guts in's brains,  
And could believe it worth his pains.  
But since you dare and urge me to it,  
You'll find l've light enough to do it.   

Synods are mystical Bear-gardens,  
Where Elders, Deputies, Churchwardens,  
And other Members of the Court,  
Manage the Babylonish sport.  
For Prolocutor, Scribe, and Bearward,  
Do differ only in a meet word.  
Both are but several Synagogues  
Of carnal Men, and Bears and Dogs:  
Both Antichristian Assemblies,  
To mischief bend as far's in them lies:  
Both stave and tail, with fierce contests,  
The one with men, the other beasts.  
The dist'rence is, the one fights with  
The tongue, the other with the teeth:  
And that they b●…it but Bears in this,  
In th' other Souls and Consciences;  
Where Saints themselves are brought to stake,  
For Gospel-light, and Conscience sake;  
Exposed to Scribes and Presbyters,  
Instead of Mastive-Dogs and Curs;  
Than whom th' have less humanity,  
For these at souls of men will fly.  
This to the Prophet did appear,  
Who in a Vision saw a Bear,  
Prefiguring the beastly rage  
Of Church-rule in this latter age:  
As is demonstrated at full  
By him that baited the Pope's Bull,  
Bears naturally are beasts of Prey,  
That live by rapine so do they.  
What are their Orders, Constitutions,  
Church censures, Curses, Absolutions,  
But several mystic chains they make,  
To tie poor Christians to the stake?  
And then set heathen Officers,  
Instead of Dogs, about their ears,  
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,  
And mulcts on sin or godliness;  
Reduce the Church to Gospel-order,  
By Rapi●…, Sacrilege, and Marther:  
To make Presbytery sup●…am,  
And Kings themselves submit to them;  
And force all people, though against  
Their Consciences, to turn Saints,  
Must prove a pretty thriving trade,  
When Saints Monopolists are made.  
When pious frauds, and holy shifts,  
Are dispensations and gifts,  
There godliness becomes mere ware,  
And every Synod but a Fair.   

Synods are whelps of th' Inquisition,  
A mongrel breed of like petnition,  
And growing up became the Sires  
Of Scribes, Commissioners, and Triers:  
Whose business is, by cunning sleight,  
To cast a figure for men's Light:  
To find in lines of beard and face,  
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.  
By black caps, underlayed with white,  
Give certain guess at inward Light;  
Which Sergeants at the Gospel wear,  
To make their spiritual calling clear.  
The hand kercher about the neck,  
(Canonical Crabat of Smeck,  
From whom the institution came,  
When Church & State they set on flame,  
And worn by them as badges then  
Of spiritual warfaring men)  
Judge rightly if Regeneration  
Be of the newest cut in fashion.  
Sure 'tis an Orthodox opinion,  
That grace is founded in dominion.  
Great piety consists in pride;  
To rule, is to be sanctified:  
To domineer, and to control,  
Both o'er the body, and the soul,  
Is the most perfect Discipline  
Of Church-rule, and by right divine.  
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 fobbed off so,  
They must have wealth and power too,  
Or else with blood and desolation,  
They'll tear it out o'th' heart o'th' Nation.   

Sure these themselves from Primitive  
And Heathen Priesthood do derive,  
When Butchers were the only Clerks,  
Elders and Presbrters of Kirks,  
Whose Directory was to kill;  
And some believe it is so still.  
The only difference is, that then  
They slaughtered only beasts, now men,  
For then to sacrifice a bullock,  
Or now and then a child to Molock,  
They count a vile Abomination,  
But not to slaughter a whole Nation.  
Presbytery does but translate  
The Papacy to a Free-state,  
A Commonwealth of Popery,  
Where every Village is a See  
As well as Rome, and must maintain  
A Tithe-pig-Metropolitan:  
Where every Presbyter and Deacon  
Commands the Keys for Cheese and Bacon;  
And every Hamlet's governed  
By's Holiness, the Church's head,  
More haughty and severe in's place  
Then Gregory and Boniface.  
Such Charch must (surely) be a Monster  
With many heads: for if we construe  
What in th' Apocalypse we find,  
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.  
Lay-elder, Simeon to Levi,  
Whose little finger is as heavy  
As loins of Patriarches, Prince-Prelate,  
And Bishop-secular. This Zealot  
Is of a mongrel, divers kind,  
Clerick before, and Lay behind;  
A lawless linsey-wolsey Brother,  
Half of one Order, half another;  
A Creature of amphibious nature,  
On land a Beast, a Fish in water;  
That always preys on Grace, or Sin;  
A Sheep without, a Wolf within.  
This fieroe Inquisitor has chief  
Dominion over men's Belief  
And Manners; can pronounce a Saint  
Idolatrous, or ignorant,  
When superciliously he sifts  
Through coursest boulter others gifts.  
For all men live and judge amiss,  
Whose Talents jump not just with his.  
He'll lay on Gifts with hands, and place  
On dullest noddle light and grace,  
The manufacture of the Kirk,  
Whose Pastors are but th' Handiwork  
Of his Mechanic Paws, instilling  
Divinity in them by feeling,  
From whence they start up chosen vessel:,  
Made by Contract, as men get Meazels.  
So Cardinals, they say, do groan  
At th' other end the new-made Pope.   

Hold, hold, quoth Hudibras, Soft fire  
They say, does make sweet Malt. Good Squire,  
Festina lente, not too fast,  
For haste (the Proverb says) makes waste.  
The Quicks and Cavils thou dost make  
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.  
I'll force you by right ratiocination  
To leave your Vitilitigation,  
And make you keep to th' question close,  
And argue Dialecticks 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.   

The Question then, to state it first,  
Is which is better, or which worst,  
Synods or Bears. Bears I avow  
To be the worst, and Synods thou.  
But to make good th' Assertion,  
Thou sayest theyare really all one.  
If so, not worst; for if th' are idem,  
Why that Tantundem dat tantidem.  
For if they are the same, by course  
Neither is better, neither worse.  
But I deny they are the same,  
More than a Maggot and I am.  
That both are Animalia,  
I grant, but not Rationalia:  
For though they do agree in kind,  
Specific difference we find,  
And can no more make Bears of these,  
Then prove my Horse is Socrates.   

That Synods are Bear-gardens too,  
Thou dost affirm; but I say no.  
And thus I prove it, in a word,  
Whats'ever Assembly's not impow'rd  
To censure, curse, absolve, and ordain,  
Can be no Synod: but Bear-garden  
Has no such power, Ergo 'tis none.  
And so thy Sophistry's o'erthrown.   

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,  
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;  
Or that a rugged, shaggy fur  
Crows o'er the hide of Presbyter;  
Or that his snout and spacious cars,  
Do hold proportion with a Bear's.  
A Bear's a savage Beast, of all  
Most ugly and unnatural,  
Whelped without form, until the Dam  
Have licked him into shape and frame:  
But all thy light can ne'er evict  
That ever Synod-man was lickis;  
Or borough to any other fashion  
Then his own will and inclination.  
But thou dost further yet in this  
Oppugn thyself, and sense, that is,  
Thou wouldst have Presbyters to go  
For Bears, and Dogs, and Bearwards too.  
A strange Chimara of beasts and men,  
Made up of pieces Heterogene,  
Such as in Nature never met  
In eodem subjecto yet.   

Thy other Arguments are all  
Supposures, hypothetical,  
That do but beg, and we may choose  
Either to grant them, or refuse.  
Much thou hast said, which I know when,  
And where, thou stolest from other men,  
(Whereby 'tis plain, thy light and gifts,  
Are all but plagiary shifts;)  
And is the same that Ranter sed,  
That arguing with me, broke my head,  
And tore a handful of my beard:  
The selfsame cavils than I heard,  
When b'ing in hot dispute about  
This controversy, we fell out;  
And what thou knowst I answered then,  
Will serve to answer thee again.   

Quoth Ralpho, Nothing but th' abuse  
Of humane learning you produce;  
Learning, that cobweb of the brain,  
Profane, erroneous, and vain;  
A trade of knowledge as repreat  
As others are with fraud and cheat;  
An Art t'incumber Gifts and wit,  
And render both sore nothing fit;  
Makes light unactive, dull and troubled,  
Like little David in Saul's doublet;  
A cheat that Scholars put upon  
Other men's reason and their own;  
A fort of Error, to ensconce  
Absurdity and ignorance;  
That renders all the avenues  
To Truth impervious and abstruse,  
By making plain things, in debate,  
By Art, perplexed and intricate:  
For nothing goes for sense or Light  
That will not with old rules jump right.  
As if Rules were not in the Schools  
Derived from Truth, but Truth from Rules.   

This Pagaen, Heathenish invention  
Is good for nothing but Contention,  
For as in Sword-and-Buckler fight,  
All blows do on the Target light:  
So when men argue, the great'st part  
O'th' Contest falls on terms of Art,  
Until the sustian stuff be spent,  
And then they fall to th' Argument.   

Quoth Hudibras, Friend Ralph, thou hast  
Outrun the Constable at last;  
For thou art fallen on a new  
Dispute, as senseless & untrue,  
But to the former opposite,  
And contrary as black to white;  
Mere Disparata, that concerning  
Presbytery, this, Humane Learning;  
Two things s'averse, they never yet  
But in thy rambling fancy met.  
But I shall take a fit occasion  
T' evince thee by Ratiocination,  
Some other time, in place more proper  
Than this weare in: Therefore let's stop here,  
And rest our wearied bones a while,  
Already tired with other toil.    
FINIS.   

ERRATA.  
PAge 26. line 7. for po read do. ibid. line 16. for Beat's read Bear's. page 28. for nave olfact read nare olfact.