HUDIBRAS. IN THREE PARTS. Corrected, with several Additions and Annotations.  
LONDON, Printed, and are to be sold by W. Rogers, at the Sun against St. Dunstan's Church in Fleetstreet. 1684.   

HUDIBRAS. The First Part. Written in the time of the Late Wars. CORRECTED & AMENDED WITH Several Additions and Annotations.  
LONDON, Printed by T.N. for Henry Herringman, and are to be sold by T. Basset at the George in Fleetstreet, 1684.   

HUDIBRAS.  
The ARGUMENT of The FIRST CANTO.  
Sir Hudibras his passing worth,  
The manner how he sallied forth:  
His Arms and Equipage are shown;  
His Horse's virtues, and his own.  
Th' Adventure of the Bear and Fiddle  
Is sung, but breaks off in the middle.  
CANTO I.  

WHen civil Fury 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 know wherefore:  
When Gospel-Trumpeter, surrounded  
With long-eared rout to Battle sounded,  
And Pulpit, Drum Ecclesiastic,  
Was beat with fist, instead of a stick:  
Then did Sir Knight abandon dwelling,  
And out he road a Colonelling.   

A Wight he was whose very sight would  
Entitle him Mirror of Knighthood;  
That never bent his stubborn knee  
To any thing but Chivalry;  
Nor put up blow, but that which laid  
Right Worshipful on 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.  
And offer to lay wagers, that  
As Mountaigne, playing with his Cat,  
Complains she thought him but an Ass,  
Much more she would Sir Hudibras.  
(For that's the Name our valiant Knight  
To all his Challenges did write.)  
But they're mistaken very much,  
'Tis plain enough he was no such.  
We grant, although he had much wit,  
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 perhaps, he was  
'Tis many a Pious Christians case,   

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,  
H'had heard 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 folk.  
For all a Rhetoricians Rules  
Teach nothing but to name his Tools:  
His ordinary Rate of speech  
In loftiness of sound was rich;  
A Babilonish dialect,  
Which learned Pedants much affect.  
It was a particoloured dress  
Of patched and pyballed Languages:  
'Twas English cut on Greek and Latin,  
Like Fustian heretofore on Satin.  
It had an odd promiscuous Tone,  
As if he 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.  
That had the Orator who once,  
Did fill his Mouth with Pibble stones  
When he harangued; but known his Phrase  
He would have used no other ways.   

In Mathematics he was greater.  
Then Tycho-Brahe, or Erra Pater:  
For he by Geometric scale  
Could take the size of Pots of Ale;  
Resolve by Signs 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 e'er the crabbed'st Author hath  
He understood b'implicit Faith,  
What ever 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 could reduce all things to Acts  
And knew their Natures by Abstracts,  
Where 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 Metaphysic wit can fly.  
In School-Divinity as able  
As he that height Irrefragable;  
Profound in all the Nominal  
And real ways beyond them all;  
And with as delicate a hand  
Could twist as tough a Rope of Sand;  
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:  
And, as he was disposed, could prove it,  
Below the Moon, or else above it  
What Adam dreamt of when his Bride  
Came from her Closet in his side:  
Whether the Devil tempted her  
By a 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 or Comment,  
He would unridle 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 preverse 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:  
Compound for Sins, they are inclined to,  
By damning those they have no mind to;  
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 disparage  
Their best and dearest friend, Plumporridge;  
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 our Knight by fast instinct  
Of Wit and Temper was so linked,  
As if Hypocrisy and Nonsense  
Had got th' 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 Sirs, It followeth thus.   

His tawny Beard was th' equal grace  
Both of his Wisdom and his Face;  
In Cut and Die so like a Tile,  
A sudden view it would beguile:  
The upper part thereof was Whey,  
The neither Orange mixed with Grey.  
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 Canonic, 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 Martyrdom 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 State should hap to reel,  
'Twas to submit to fatal steel,  
And fall, as it was consecrate  
A Sacrifice to fall of State;  
Whose thread of life the fatal Sisters  
Did twist together with its Whiskers,  
And twine so close, that time should never,  
In life or death, their fortunes sever;  
But with his rusty Sickle mow  
Both down together at a blow.  
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 Aeneas bore 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 feared 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.  
That often tempted Rats, and Mice,  
The Ammunition to surprise:  
And when he put a Hand but in  
The one or th'other Magazine,  
They stoutly in defence on't stood  
And from the wounded Foe drew blood  
And till th' were stormed, and beaten out  
Ne'er left the Fortified Redoubt;  
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-timber above ground  
Or under was not to be found,  
Unless they grazed, 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 or their Nuncheons,  
But let that pass at present, lest  
We should forget where we digressed;  
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 some body 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 Wars, 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.  
'Twould 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.  
They were upon hard Duty still,  
And every night stood Sentinel,  
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 Toe.  
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 Reyn.  
But now we talk of mounting Steed,  
Before we further do proceed,  
It doth behoove us to say something,  
Of that which bore our valiant Bumkin.  
The Beast was sturdy, large, and tall,  
With Mouth of meal and Eyes of Wall:  
I 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 mor he skipped,  
Or mended pace, than Spaniard whipped:  
And yet so fiery, he would bond,  
As if he griveed 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 trot 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,  
Well call him so, if not plain Ralph,  
For Rhyme the Rudder is of Verses,  
With which like Ships they steer their courses.  
An equal stock of Wit and Valour  
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 counterfeited Pass  
Of Golden Bough, but true Goldlace.  
His Knowledge was not far behind  
The Knights, but of another kind,  
And by 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:  
Whatever men speak by this New light,  
Still they are sure to be i' th' right.  
'Tis a darklanthorn of the Spirit,  
Which none see by but those that bear 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-foul for Salvation,  
And fish to catch Regeneration.  
This Light inspires, and plays upon  
The noise of Saint like Bagpipe 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 Vere 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 li●h●▪  
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 its 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 Reformatiom was, some say,  
O' th' younger house to Puppet-play.  
He could foretell what's ' ever was  
By consequence to come to pass.  
As Death of Great men, Alterations,  
Diseases, Battles, Inundations.  
All this without th' eclipse of Sun,  
Or dreadful Comet, he hath done  
By inward light, a way as good,  
And easy to be understood.  
But with more lucky hit than those  
That use to make the Stars depose,  
Like Knights o' th' Post, and falsely charge  
Upon themselves what others forge:  
As if they were consenting to  
All mischief in the World men do:  
Or like the devil, did tempt and sway 'em  
To Rogueries, and then betray 'em.  
They'll search a Planet's house, to know  
Who broke and 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 guests,  
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' Phisiognomies  
O' th' Planets all men's destinies.  
Like him that took the Doctor's Bill,  
And swallowed it instead o' th' Pill.  
Cast the Nativity o' th' Question,  
And from Positions to be guest on,  
As sure as if they knew the Moment  
Of Natives birth, tell what will come on't.  
They'll feel the Pulses of the Stars,  
To find out Agues, Coughs, Catarrhs;  
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 wise, for only of those  
The Stars (they say) cannot dispose,  
No more than can the Astrologians.  
There they say right, and like true Trojans.  
This Ralpho knew, and therefore took  
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 we now prepare 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 t'a 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 do we 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 w' are, 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.  
'twas an old way of Recreating,  
Which learned Butchers call Bear-baiting:  
A bold adventurous exercise,  
With ancient Hero's in high prize;  
For Authors do affirm it came  
From Isthmian or Nemean game.  
Others derive it from the Bear  
That's fixed in Northern Hemispere,  
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-rout.  
For after solemn Proclamation  
In the Bear'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 honour's 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 wait 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 he was bound to do  
In Conscience and Commission too.   

And therefore thus bespoke the Squire;  
We that are wisely mounted higher  
Than Constables; in Curule wit,  
When on Tribunal bench we sit,  
Like Speculators; 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 Mediation  
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 the quarrel Dogs and Bears,  
As well as we must venture theirs?  
This Feud by Jesuits invented,  
By evil Counsel is fomented.  
There is a Machiavilian Plot,  
(Though every Nare 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 shall 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 lead Brothers by the Nose.  
I wish myself a Pseudo-Prophet,  
But sure some 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, Fundemental Laws;  
Nor for a thorough Reformation,  
Nor Covenant, nor Protestation;  
Nor Liberty of Consciences,  
Nor Lords and Commons Ordinances;  
Nor for the Church, nor for Church-Lands,  
To get them in their own no Hands;  
Nor evil Counsellors to bring  
To Justice that seduce the King;  
Nor for the worship of us men,  
Though we have done as much for them.  
Th' Egyptians worshipped Dogs, and for  
Their faith made fierce and zealous War.  
Others adored a Rat, and some  
For that Church suffered martyrdom.  
The Indians fought for the truth  
Of th' Elephent, and Monkey's Tooth:  
And many, to defend that faith,  
Fought it out mordicus to death.  
But no Beasts 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 Philosphers  
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 be.  
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,  
〈◊〉 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 fly Homoeosis,  
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,  
That put them in a bag and shake 'em,  
Yourself o' th' sudden would mistake 'em,  
And not know which is which, unless  
You measure by their Wickedness:  
For 'tis not hard t' imagine whether  
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 canst at best but overstrain  
A Paradox, and th' own hot brain  
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 than what Genus rightly doth  
Include, and comprehend them both?  
If Animal, both of us may  
As justly pass for Bears as they.  
For we are Animals no less,  
Although of different Specieses.  
But, Ralpho this is no fit place  
Nor time to argue out the Case:  
For now the Field is not far off,  
Where we must give the world a proof  
Of Deeds, not Words, and such as suit  
Another manner of Dispute.  
A Controversy that affords  
Actions for Arguments, ●ot 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  
W' are slurred 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 boldest 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 th' are known to be so ample,  
We need no copy from example,  
We ' are 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 stout,  
And in the same Cause both have fought.  
He oft in such Attempts 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 brisk Attempt and putting on;  
With entering manfully, and urging;  
Not slow approaches, like a Virgin.   

This said, as once 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 and spurred,  
The less the sullen Jade has stirred.    

The ARGUMENT of The SECOND CANTO.  
The Catalogue and Character  
Of th' Enemies best Men of War;  
Whom in a bold Harangue, the Knight  
Defy's, and challenges to fight:  
HE encounters Talgol, routs the Bear,  
And takes the Fiddler Prisoner;  
Conveys him to enchanted Castle,  
There 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 modern Knights,  
To copy out in Frays and Fights,  
(Like those that a whole street 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 Valour's  
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'rthwart, 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 each his due desert:  
And never coin a formal lie on't,  
To make the Knight overcome the Giant.  
This b'ing professed, we hope's enough,  
And now go on where we left off.   

They rod, 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 the 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 take the Field  
As from his Steed the Knight beheld:  
For as our modern wits behold,  
Mounted a Pick-back on the Old,  
Much further off, much further he  
Raised on his aged Beast could see:  
Yet not sufficient to descry  
All postures of the enemy.  
And therefore order the bold Squire  
T' advance, and view their Body nigher  
That when their motions he had known,  
He might know how to fit his own.  
Mean while 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 within, and Steel without,  
To give, or to receive a Rout.  
His Death-charged Pistols he did fit well,  
Drawn out from life-preserving victual.  
These being primed, with force he laboured  
To free's Sword from retentive Scabbard:  
And after many a painful pluck,  
He cleared at length the rugged 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.  
The Squire advanced with greater speed  
Than could b' expected from his Steed;  
But far more in returning made,  
For now the Foe he had surveyed  
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 month's 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 fatal 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 Staffordshire where Virtuous worth  
Does raise the Minstrelsy, not Birth;  
Where Bulls do choose the boldest King  
And Ruler, o'er the men of string;  
(As 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 timber's propped;  
Esteemed more honourable than the other,  
And takes place, though the younger Brother.   

Next marched Brave 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.  
Knew when t' engage his Bear Pell-mell  
And when to bring him off 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 Romulus 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 do now;  
Until some splay-foot Politicians,  
T' Apollo offered up Petitions,  
For licensing a new invention  
Th' ●ad 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 ('tis true) chief 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 let them grow there still.  
But to resume what we discoursing  
We on before, that is, stout Orsin:  
That which so oft by sundry writers  
Has been applied t' almost all fighters,  
More justly may b' ascribed to this,  
Than 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 Hero's 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 his 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 six miles pointblank would solder  
By skilful Chemist with great cost  
Extracted from a rotten Post;  
But of a heav'nlier influence  
Than that which Mountebanks dispense;  
Though by Promothean 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 part that did the wrong:  
So this did healing, and as 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 War;  
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 kin;  
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 treabled leathern 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 these failed he'd suck his claws,  
And quarter himself upon his paws.  
And though his Countrymen, the Huns,  
Did use to stew between their Bums,  
And their warm Horses backs, their meat  
And every man his Saddle eat:  
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 Blanc 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 foe 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 stout,  
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 a 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  
Than Ajax or bold Don Quixot:  
And many a Serpent of fell kind,  
With wings before and stings behind,  
Subdued; as Poets say, long agone  
Bold Sir George, Saint George did the Dragon.  
Nor Engine, nor Device Polemick,  
Disease, nor Doctor Epidemic,  
Though stored with Deletery 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 later in a two wheeled Chariot,  
For daring to profane a thing  
So Sacred, with vile bungling.   

Next these brave the Magnano came,  
Magnano great in Martial Fame.  
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 sevenfold Shield,  
Which o'er his brazen Arms he held,  
But Brass was feeble to resist  
The fury 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, Blunderbus, and Saker,  
He was th' inventor of and maker:  
The Trumpet and the Kettledrum  
Did both from his Invention come.  
He was the first that e'er did teach  
To make, and how to stop a breach.  
A Lance he bore with Iron pike,  
Th' one half would thrust, the other strike:  
And when their forces he 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 perils both of Wind and Limb,  
Through thick and thin she followed him,  
In every Adventure h'undertook,  
And never him or it forsook.  
At Breach of Wall, or Hedge surprise,  
She shared in th' hazard and the prize:  
At beating Quarters up, or Forage,  
Behaved herself with matchless courage;  
And laid about in sight more busily,  
Than th' Amazonian Dame, Penthesile.   

And though some Critics here cry shame,  
And say our Authors are to blame,  
That spite of all Philosophers,  
Who hold no Females stout, but Bears,  
And heretofore did so abhor  
Their Women should pretend to War,  
They would not suffer the stoutest Dame  
To swear by Hercules his Name,  
Make feeble Ladies, in their Works,  
To fight like Termagants and Turks;  
To lay their native Arms aside,  
Their modesty, and ride a-stride;  
To run atilt 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 pernicious consequence  
To Government, which they suppose  
Can never be upheld in Prose:  
Strip Nature naked to the skin,  
You'll find about her no such thing▪  
It may be so, yet what we tell  
Of Trulla, that's improbable,  
Shall be 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 H●rc'les, for repair of wrong:  
He raised the low, and fortified  
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 Bullhide shield would pierce,  
And cut it in a thousand pieces,  
Though tougher than the Knight of Greece his;  
With whom his black thumbed Ancestor  
Was Comrade in the ten years' War:  
For when the restless Greeks set down  
So many years before Troy Town,  
And were renowned, as Homer writes,  
For well-soled Boots, no less than Fights;  
They owed that Glory only to  
His Ancestor, that made them so.  
Fast friend he was to Reformation,  
Until 'twas worn quite out of fashion.  
Next Rectifier of Wry Law,  
And would make three, to cure one flaw.  
Learned he was, and could take note,  
Transcribe, Collect, Translate and Quote.  
But Preaching was his chiefest Talon,  
Or Argument, in which b'ing valiant;  
He used to lay about and stickle,  
Like Ram or Bull, at Conventicle:  
For Disputants like Rams and Bulls,  
Do fight with Arms that spring from Skulls.   

Last Colon came, bold man of War,  
Destined to blows by fatal Star;  
Right expert in Command of Horse,  
But cruel, and without remorse.  
That which of Centaur long ago  
Was said, and has been wrested to  
Some other Knights, was true of this,  
He and his Horse were of a piece.  
One Spirit did inform them both,  
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  
Than Hercules to cleanse a Stable;  
As great a Drover, and as great  
A Critic too in Hog or Neat.  
He ripped the Womb up of his Mother,  
Dame 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' ad almost poured out their Eyes)  
Did very learnedly decide  
The business on the Horse's side,  
And proved not only Horse, but Cows,  
Nay Pigs, were of the elder house:  
For Beasts, when Man was but a piece  
Of earth himself, did th' earth possess.   

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 Country's 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 ye 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 Swearing to begin,  
The Solemn League and Covenant  
Will seem a mere God-dam me Rant;  
And we that took it, and have fought,  
As lewd as Drunkards that fall out.  
For as we make War for the King  
Against himself, the salf-same 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 Martyrs,  
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 Tinkers bawled aloud, to settle  
Church-Discipline, for patching Kettle.  
No Sowgelder did blow his Horn  
To geld a Cat, 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 Counsellors did cry.  
Butchers left old clothes in the lurch,  
And fell to turn and patch the Church.  
Some cried the Covenant instead  
Of Pudding-pies and Gingerbread:  
And some for Broom, old Boots and Shoes.  
Bauled out to purge the Common's House:  
Instead of Kitchinstuff, some cry  
A Gospel-preaching-Ministry;  
And some for Old Suits, Coats, or Cloak,  
No Surplices, nor Service-book.  
A strange harmonious inclination  
Of all degrees to Reformation.  
And is this all? is this the end  
To which these carr'ings on did tend?  
Hath Public Faith like a young heir  
For this taken up all sorts of Ware,  
And run int' every Tradesman's book,  
Till both turned Bankrupts, and are broke?  
Did Saints for this bring in the Plate,  
And crowd as if they came too late?  
For when they thought the Cause had need on't,  
Happy was he that could be rid on't.  
Did they coin Piss pots, Bowls, and Flagons,  
Int' Officers of Horse and Dragoons;  
And into Pikes and Musqueteers  
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 offerings, consecrate  
Like th' Hebrew-calf, and down before it  
The Saints fell 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  
Tame Elephant inveigle the Male?  
Have they told providence what it must do,  
Whom to avoid, and whom to trust to?  
Discovered th' Enemy's design,  
And which way best to countermine;  
Prescribed what ways he 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 subscribe, unsight unseen,  
T' an unknown Church's Discipline  
What is it else, but beforehand.  
T' engage, and after understand?  
For when we swore to carry on  
The present Reformation,  
According to the Purest mode  
Of Churches, best Reformed abroad,  
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 permit men to run headlong  
T' exorbitancies fit for Bedlam,  
Rather than Gospel-walking times,  
When slightest Sins are gteatest Crimes.  
But we the matter so shall handle,  
As to remove that odious scandal.  
In name of King and Parliament,  
I charge ye all, no more foment  
This feud, but keep the peace between  
Your Brethren and your Countrymen;  
And to those places strait repair  
Where your respective dwellings are.  
But to that purpose first surrender,  
The Fiddler, as the prime offender,  
Th' Incendiary vile, that is chief  
Author and Engineer of mischief;  
That makes division between friends,  
For prohane and malignant ends.  
He and that Engine of vile noise,  
On which illegally he plays,  
Shall (dictum factum) both he brought  
To condign Punishment as th'y aught.  
This must be done, and I would fain see:  
Mortal so sturdy as to gainsay:  
For then I'll take another course,  
And soon Reduce you all by force.  
This said, he clapped his hand on Sword,  
To show he meant 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 dar'st thou with that sullen Luggage  
O'th' thyself, old Ir'n and other Baggage,  
With which thy Steed of Bones and Leather  
Has broke his Wind in halting hither;  
How durst th', I say, adventure thus  
T' oppose thy Lumber against us?  
Could thine Impertinence find out  
No work t' 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 Combatans'  
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 sort  
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 unlicenc'd, 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 th' art 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 within its lodging whole,  
And not provoke the rage of Stones  
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 smote on stomach stout,  
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 that 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 tough lean ware,  
Make Natural Death appear thy work,  
And stop the Gangreen 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 Axes made to hew down lives;  
Shall save or help thee to evade  
The hand of Justice, or this blade  
Which I her Sword-bearer do carry,  
For civil Deed and Military.  
Nor shall these words of Venom base,  
Which thou hast from their native place,  
Thy stomach, pumped to fling on me,  
Go unrevenged, though I am free.  
Thou down the same throat shalt devour 'em,  
Like tainted Beef, and pay dear for 'em.  
Nor shall it ere be said, that weight  
With Gauntlet blue and Bases white,  
And round blunt Dudgeon by his side,  
So great a man at Arms defied  
With words far bitterer than Wormwood,  
That would in Job or Grizel stir mood.  
Dogs with their Tongues their wounds do heal;  
But Men with hands, as thou shalt feel.  
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,  
Nor henceforth Cow or Bullock murder.  
But Pallas came in shape of Rust,  
And 'twixt the Spring and Hammer thrust  
Her Gorgon-shield, which made the Cock  
Stand stiff as if 'twere turned t' a stock.  
Mean while fierce Talgol gathering might,  
With rugged Truncheon charged the Knight.  
And he his rusty Pistol held  
To take the blow on, like a Shield;  
The Gun recoiled, as well it might,  
Not used to such a kind of fight,  
And shrunk from its great Master's gripe,  
Knocked down and stunned with mortal stripe.  
Than Hudibras with furious haste  
Drew out his sword; yet not so fast,  
But Talgol first with hardy thwack  
Twice bruised his head, and twice his back.  
But when his nut-brown Sword was out,  
Courageously he laid about,  
Imprinting many a wound upon  
His mortal foe the Truncheon.  
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'ng engaged,  
Is so implacably enraged,  
Though Iron hew and mangle sore,  
Wood wounds and 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 would 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  
By cunning slight; for had it hit,  
The Upper part of him the Blow  
Had slit, as sure as that below.   

Mean while th' incomparable Colon,  
To aid his Friend began to fall on,  
Him Ralph encountered, and strait grew  
A fierce Dispute betwixt them two:  
Th' one armed with Metal, th' other with 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 could divine  
To which side Conquest would incline:  
Until Magnano, who did envy  
That two should with so many men vie,  
By subtle stratagem of brain  
Performed what force could ne'er attain,  
For he, by foul hap having found  
Where Thistles grew on barren ground,  
In haste he drew his weapon out  
And having cropped them from the Root  
He clapped them under th' Horse's Tail  
With prickles sharper than a Nail  
The angry Beast did strait resent  
The wrong done to his Fundament,  
Begun to kick, and fling, and wince,  
As if h'had been beside his sense,  
Striving to disengage from Smart,  
And raging Pain, th' afflicted Part;  
Instead of which he threw the pack  
Of Squire and Baggage from his back;  
And blundring still with smarting rump,  
He gave the Champion's Steed a thump,  
That staggared him. The Knight did stoop  
And sat on further side aslope.  
This Talgol viewing, who had now  
By flight escaped the fatal blow,  
He rallied, and again fell to't;  
For catching him 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 fared 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 off bondage from his snout.  
His wrath inflamed boiled o'er, and from  
His jaws of Death he threw the foam.  
Fury in stranger postures threw him,  
And more, than ever Herald 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 'gainst 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 h'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 felt himself enlarged,  
Through thickest of his foes he charged,  
And made way through th' amazed crew,  
Some he o'reran, and some o'er threw.  
But took none; for by hasty flight  
He strove t' avoid the conquering Knight,  
From whom he fled with as much haste  
And dread as he the Rabble chased.  
In haste he fled, and so did they,  
Each and his fear a several way.   

Crowdero only kept the field,  
Not stirring from the place he held,  
Though beaten down and wounded sore  
I' th' Fiddle, and a Leg that bore  
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, in a swound,  
In haste he snatched the wooden limb  
That hurt in th' ankle lay by him,  
And fitting it for sudden fight,  
Strait drew it up, t' attack the Knight.  
For getting up on stump and huckle,  
He with the foe began to buckle,  
Vowing to be revenged for breach  
Of Crowd and Shin 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 the Bard  
To charge the Knight intranc'd prepared,  
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 Leg encountered twice and once;  
And now 'twas raised, to smite again,  
When Ralpho thrust himself between.  
He took the blow upon his Arm,  
To shield the Knight from further harm,  
And joining wrath with force, bestowed  
On th' wooden member such a load,  
That down it fell, and with it bore  
Crowdero, whom it propped before.  
To him the Squire right nimbly run,  
And setting his bold foot upon  
His trunk, thus spoke: What desperate Frenzy  
Made thee, (thou whelp of Sin) to fancy  
Thyself and all that Coward Rabble  
T' encounter us in battle able?  
How durst th', I say, oppose thy Curship  
'Gainst 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  
To bear out blows as that of Wood?  
Could not the whipping-post prevail  
With all its empiric, nor the Gaol,  
To keep from flaying scourge thy skin,  
And ankle free from Iron Gin?  
Which now thou shalt— but first our care  
Must see how Hudibras doth fair.  
This said, he gently raised the Knight,  
And set him on his Bum upright:  
To rouse him from Lethargic dump,  
He tweaked his Nose with gentle thump,  
Knocked on his breast, as if 't had been  
To raise the Spirits lodged within.  
They wakened with the noise, did fly  
From inward Room to Window eye,  
And gently opening lid, the Casement,  
Looked out, but yet with some amazement.  
This gladded Ralpho much to see,  
Who thus bespoke the Knight: quoth he,  
Tweaking his noise, You are, great Sir,  
A Self-denying Conqueror;  
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 Jail.  
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 goings 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 begun to rouse,  
And by degrees grow valorous.  
He stared 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 S●ve does merit  
To be the Hangman's business, sooner  
Than from your hand to have the honour  
Of his destruction. I that am  
So much below 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  
Than if you were a Knight of Straw:  
For death would then be his Conqueror,  
Not you, and free him from that terror.  
If danger from his life accrue,  
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, than slain:  
The Laurels 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 ye 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:  
And has by most of us been held  
Wise Justice, and to some revealed.  
For Words and Promises that yoke  
The Conqueror, are quickly broke,  
Like Sampson's Cuffs, 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 outrageous 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 Whiniard bore  
The Trophy- Fiddle and the Case,  
Placed on his 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 their 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-bar, nor Gate,  
Portcullis, Chain, nor Bolt, not 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 who so 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 th' are freed by head of Borough.  
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.  
●nd when a Circle 'bout the Wrist  
〈◊〉 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,  
●n manner of a Trophy, place.  
That done, they open the Trap-dore-gate,  
And let Crowdero down thereat.  
Crowd ro making dolefule 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 Knighthood, 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  
Th' 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 medles with cold Iron!  
What plaguy mischiefs and mishaps  
Do dog him still with after-claps!  
For though Dame Fortune seem to smile  
And leer upon him for a while;  
She'll after 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 he had won  
The Field as certain as a Gun,  
And having routed the whole Troop,  
With Victory was Cock-a-hoop;  
Think he had done enough to purchase  
Thanksgiving-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,  
Than in events of War Dame Fortune.   

For now the late faint-hearted Rout  
O'erthrown 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 again, and faced about,  
As if they meant to stand it out:  
For now the half-defeated Bear  
Attacked 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 haste  
Faced the proud foe, and fled, and faced,  
Retiring still, until he found  
H'had got th' advantage of the Ground;  
And then as valiantly made head,  
To check the foe, and forthwith fled;  
Leaving no Art untried, nor Trick  
Of Warrior stout and Polytick.  
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 Hide 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 i' th' 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,  
●s more than mortal can make good.  
●or while one party he opposed,  
●is 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 stand 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 i● doleful dumps  
Is said to fight upon his stumps.   

But all, alas! had been in vain,  
And he inevitably slain,  
If Trulla and Cerdon in the nick  
To rescue him had not been quick.  
For Trulla, who was light of foot,  
As shafts which longfield Parthians shoot  
(But not so light as to be born  
Upon the Ears of standing Corn,  
Or tripped 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 pitying 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 feats already h'has achieved,  
In story not to be believed:  
And 't would 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 strait,  
Or else our aid will come too late.  
Quarter he scorns, he is so stout,  
And therefore cannot long hold out.  
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 Bruin  
Was now engaged to mortal ruin:  
The conquering foe they soon assailed;  
First Trulla staved, and Cerdon tailed,  
Until their 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 deed-doing steel  
All over but the Pagan heel:  
So did our Champion's Arms defend  
All of him but the other end,  
His Head and Ears, which in the Martial  
Encounter lost a Leathern parcel,  
For as an Austrian Archduke once  
Had one ear (which in Ducatoons  
Is half the 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  
Ears of the circumcised Brethren.  
But gentle Trulla into th' Ring  
He wore in's Nose conveyed a string,  
With which she marched before, and led  
The Warrior to a grassy Bed,  
As Authors write, in a cool shade,  
Which Eglantine 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 hung  
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 than 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 doleful wail did resound  
More wistfully, by many times,  
Than in small Poet's splay-foot rhymes,  
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,  
Art thou fled to my— Echo, ruin?  
I thought th' hadst scorned to budge a step,  
For fear. (Quoth Echo) Marryguep.  
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 fly  
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 tail:  
For who would grudge 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 their Bones and Flesh 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  
Of them, but losing 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 skin 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)  
●le make them rue their handiwork;  
And wish that they had rather dared,  
To pull the Devil by the Beard.   

Quoth Cerdon, Noble Orsin th' haste  
Great reason to do as thou sayest,  
And so has every body here  
As well as thou hast or thy Bear.  
Others may do as they see good;  
But if this twig be made of Wood  
That will hold tack, I'll make the Fur  
Fly 'bout the Ears of that old Cur,  
And th' other 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 Dungeon shut, we left him last.  
Triumphant Laurels seemed to grow  
No where so green as on his brow:  
Laden with which, as well as fired  
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 mollify th' uneasy pang  
Of every honourable bang.  
Which b'ing by skilful Midwife dressed,  
He laid him down to take his rest.   

But all in vain; H'had got a h●rt  
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)  
Drew home his Bow, and aiming right,  
Let fly an Arrow at the Knight;  
The shaft against a Rib did glance,  
And gall him in the Purtenance.  
But time had somewhat swag'd his pain,  
After he found his suit in vain.  
For that proud Dame, for whom his soul  
Was burnt in's belly like a coal,  
(That Belly that so oft did ache  
And suffer gripping for her sake,  
Till purging Comfits and Ants Eggs  
Had almost brought him off his Legs)  
Used him so like a base Rascallion,  
That old Pyg● (what d'y ' call him?) malio.  
That cut his Mistress out of stone,  
Had not so hard-a-hearted one.  
She had a thousand jadish tricks,  
Worse than a Mule that flings and kicks:  
'Mong which one cross-grained freak she had,  
As insolent as strange and mad:  
She could love none but only such  
As scorned and hated her as much.  
'Twas 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 Witche's Prayer.  
Mean while the Knight had no small task,  
To compass what he durst not ask.  
He loves, but dares not make the motion;  
Her ignorance is his devotion.  
Like Caitiff vile, that for misdeed  
Rides with his face to rump of Steed,  
Or rowing Scull, he's fain to love,  
Look one way, and another move;  
Or like a Tumbler that does play  
His game, and look another way,  
Until he seize upon the 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 b'ing 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 this thoughts agog, and open  
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  
H'had newly gained might work upon her,  
These reasons made his mouth to water  
With amorous longings to be at her.   

Thought he unto himself, who knows  
But this brave Conquest o'er my foes  
May reach her heart, and make that stoop,  
As I but now have 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 fail 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 lets the timidous miscarry.  
Then while the honour thou hast got  
Is spick and span-new, piping hot,  
Strike her up bravely thou hadst best,  
And trust thy fortune with the rest.  
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 if 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 left engaged to seek him out,  
By speedy marches were advanced  
Up to the Fort where he ensconced,  
And had all th' avenues possessed  
About the place, from East to West.  
That done, awhile they made a halt,  
To view the Ground, and where t' assault:  
Then called a Council, which was best,  
By siege or onslaught, to invest  
The enemy: and 'twas agreed,  
By storm and onslaught to proceed▪  
This b'ing 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, or Tutelar,  
Did arm, or thrust him on a danger,  
To which he was an utter stranger;  
That Foresight might, or might not blot  
The glory he had newly got;  
Or to his shame it might be 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,  
To take the Field and Sally at,  
The Foe appeared, 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 thus 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 fates 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 salf-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 fits those whom it takes.  
And they'll opine they feel the pain  
And blows, they felt to day, again.  
Then let us boldly charge them home,  
And m●ke no doubt to overcome.   

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

Mean while the foe with equal rage  
And speed advancing to engage,  
Both parties now were drawn so close,  
Almost to come to handiblows.  
When Orsin first let fly a stone  
At Ralpho; not so huge a one  
As that which 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 destin'ct to.  
The danger startled the bold Squire,  
And made him some few steps retire.  
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 gall, pressed close,  
To come, pellmell, to handiblows:  
And that he might their aim decline,  
Advanced still in an oblique line;  
But prudently forbore to fire,  
Till breast to breast he had got nigher:  
As expert Warriors use to do,  
When hand to hand they charge the foe.  
This Order the 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 weapon, and the Reyn;  
But laying fast hold on the Mane,  
Preserved his seat: And as a Goose  
In death contracts his Talons loose;  
So did the Knight, and with one claw  
The tricker of his Pistol draw.  
The Gun went off: and as it was  
Still fatal to stout Hudibras,  
In all his feats of Arms, when least  
He dreamt of it, to prosper best;  
So now he 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 if the Squire had but fallen on,  
He had inevitably done:  
But he, diverted with the care  
Of Hudibras his wound, forbore  
To press th' advantage of his fortune,  
While danger did the rest dishearten.  
He had with Cerdon been engaged  
In close encounter, which both waged  
So desperately, '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 th' hard th' disaster of the Knight  
And th' other party did divert  
And force their sullen Rage to part  
Ralpho pressed up to Hudibras,  
And Cerdon where Magnano was;  
Each striving to confirm his party  
With stout encouragements and hearty.  
Quoth Ralpho, Courage, valiant Sir,  
And let Revenge and Honour stir  
Your spirits up, once more fall on,  
The shattered Foe begins to run:  
For if but half so well you knew  
To use your Victory as subdue,  
They durst not, after such a blow  
As you have 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,  
Yo●'l have a harder game to play,  
Then yet ye have had to get the day.   

Thus spoke the stout Squire; but was heard  
By Hudibras with small regard.  
His thoughts were fuller of the bang  
He lately took, than Ralph's harangue;  
To which he 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.  
For those that Run away, and fly,  
Take Place at least of th' enemy  
This said, the Squire with active speed  
Dismounted from his bony Steed,  
To seize the Arms which by mischance  
Fell from the bold Knight in a trance.  
These being found out, and restored  
To Hudibras, their natural Lord,  
The active Squire with might and main  
Prepared in haste to mount 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.  
When Orsin, who had newly dressed  
The bloody scar upon the shoulder  
Of Talgol with Promethean powder,  
And now was searching for the shot  
That laid Magnano on the spot,  
Beheld the sturdy Squire aforesaid  
Preparing to climb up his Horse side.  
He left his Cure, and laying hold  
Upon his Arms with Courage bold  
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, and gotten  
O'rethwart his Beast with active vaulting,  
Wriggling his body to recover  
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 swound.  
Mean while the Knight began to rouse  
The sparkles of his wanted 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  
Hit 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 awhile 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.  
Mean while 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 straight 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 fight.  
Ralpho by this time disentr●nc'd,  
Upon his Bum himself advanced,  
Though sorely bruised; his Limbs all o'er  
With ruthless bangs were stiff and sore.  
R●ght fain he would have got upon  
His f●et 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 here;  
Nor have I turned my back, or hanged  
An Arse, for fear of being banged:  
●t was for you I got these harms,  
●dvent'ring to fetch off your Arme.  
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,  
〈◊〉 shall lie here, and be a prey  
To those who now are run away.   

That shalt thou not (quoth Hudibras:)  
We read, the Ancients held it was  
More honourable far Servare  
Civem, than slay an adversary.  
The one we oft to day have done;  
The other shall dispatch anon.  
And though th' art of a different Church,  
I will not leave thee in the lurch.  
This said, he 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 all in feat of Arms was hers:  
And now to plunder Ralph she flew,  
When Hudibras his hard fate drew  
To succour him; for as he bowed  
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 a fresh,  
I'll wave my Title to thy flesh,  
Thy Arms and Baggage, now my right:  
And if thou hast the heart to tri't,  
I'll lend the back thyself awhile  
And once more for that carcase vile.  
Fight upon 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 honour's to be gained.  
But if thou'lt take my advice in this,  
Consider while thou may'st, what 'tis  
To interrupt a Victor's course,  
B' opposing such a trivial force.  
For if with Conquest I come off,  
(And that I shall do sure enough)  
Quarter thou canst not have, nor grace,  
By law of Arms, in such a case;  
Both which I now do offer freely.   

I scorn (quoth she) thou Coxcomb silly,  
(Clapping her hand upon her breech,  
To show how much she prized his speech)  
Quarter or Counsel from a foe:  
If thou canst force me to it, do.  
But lest it should again be said,  
When I have once more won 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 he 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 laid him flat upon his side,  
And mounting on his Trunk a-stride,  
Quoth she, I told thee what would come  
Of all thy vapouring, base Scum.  
Say, will the Law of Arms allow  
I may have Grace, and Quarter now?  
Or wilt thou rather break thy word,  
And slain thine Honour, than thy Sword.  
A Man of War to damn his Soul,  
In basely breaking his Parol.  
And when before the Fight, th' hadst vowed  
To give no Quarter in cold blood:  
Now thou hast got me for a Tartar,  
To make my against my will take quarter?  
Why dost not put me to the Sword,  
But cowardly fly from thy word?  
Quoth Hudibras, the day's thine own;  
Thou and thy Stars have cast me down:  
My Laurels are transplanted now,  
And flourish on thy conquering brow:  
My loss of Hono●'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 Hero's were illustrious  
For b'ing 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 the 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 too late  
For me to treat or stipulate;  
What thou Commandest 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-cannons, 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 had given him quarter, and her blood  
Or theirs would make their quarter good.  
For she was bound by Law of Arms,  
To see him safe from further harms.  
In Dungeon deep Crowdero cast  
By Hudibras as yet lay fast,  
Where to the hard and ruthless stones  
His great Heart made perpetual 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 we 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 Squire first they made  
Rise from the ground where they were laid;  
Then mounted both upon their Horses,  
But with their Faces to the Arses,  
Orsin led Hudibras' beast,  
And Talgol that which Ralpho pressed,  
Who stout Magnano, valiant Cerdon  
And Colon waited as a guard on,  
All ushering Trulla, 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, than shows  
And triumphs over conquered foes  
Do use t' allow, or than 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 'gainst their Fort their force,  
They all advanced, and round about  
Begirt the Magical Redoubt.  
Magnan ' led up in this adventure,  
And made way for the rest to enter.  
For he was skilful in Black Art  
No less than he that 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 self same Limbo put  
The Knight and Squire where he was shut.  
Where leaving them i' th' wretched hole,  
Their bangs and durance to condole,  
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 h'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 libra gallant:  
For both to give blows and to carry,  
In fights are equinecessary;  
But in defeats, the Passive stout  
Are always found to stand it out  
Most desperately, and to outdo  
The Active, 'gainst a conquering foe.  
Though we with blacks and blews are suggiled,  
Or, as the vulgar say, are cudgeled:  
He that is valiant, and dares fight,  
Though drubbed can lose no honour by't.  
honour's a lease for Lives to com●,  
And cannot be extended from  
The legal Tenant: 'tis a Chattel,  
Not to be forfeited in Battle,  
If he that in the field is slain,  
Be in the Bed of Honour lain:  
He that is beaten may be said  
To lie in Honour's Truckle-bed.  
For as we see th' eclipsed Sun  
By mortals is more gazed upon,  
Tahn 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 Brothers 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 to 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 exploit, right fit  
For Presbyterian Zeal and Wit.   

Quoth Hudibras, that cuckoo's tone,  
Ralpho, thou always harp'st upon:  
When thou at any thing wouldst rail,  
Thou makes Presbytery thy scale  
To take the height on't and explain  
To what degree it is profane.  
Whats'ever will not with thy (what d'ye call)  
Thy light Jump right, thou call'st Synodical.  
As if Presbytery were a standard.  
To size whats'ever's to be slandered.  
Dost not remember how this day  
Thou to my Beard waste bold to say,  
That thou couldst prove Bearbaiting equal  
With Synods, Orthodox and Lega?  
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 I've light enough to do it.   

Synods are mystical Bear-gardens,  
Where Eld●rs, Deputies, Churchwardens,  
And other Members of the Court  
Manage the Babylonish sport.  
For Prolocutor, Scribe, and Bearward,  
Do differ only in a mere 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 difference is, The one fights with  
The Tongue, the other with the Teeth;  
And that they bait but Bears in this,  
In th' others Souls and Consciences;  
Where Saints themselves are brought to stake  
For Gospel-light and Conscience sake;  
Exposed to Scribes and Presbyters,  
Instead of Mastiffs 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 later 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 lose▪  
To set what Characters they please,  
And mulcts on Sin or Godliness;  
Reduce the Church to Gospel-Order,  
By Rapine, Sacrilege, and Murder;  
To make Presbytery supreme,  
And Kings themselves submit to them;  
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 pernition,  
And growing up became the Sires  
Of Scribes, Commissioners, and Triers;  
Whose business is, by cunning slight  
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 the Spiritual Calling clear.  
The Handkerchief about the neck  
(Canonical Crabat of Smeck,  
From whom the Institution came,  
When Church and State they set on flame,  
And worn by them as badges then  
Of Spiritual Warfaring Men)  
Judge rightly if Regeneration  
Be of the newest Cut in fashion.  
Sure 'tis an Orthodox opinion  
That Grace is founded in Dominion.  
Great Piety consists in Pride;  
To rule is to be 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.  
Bel 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 Pristhood do derive,  
When Butchers were the only Clerks,  
Elders and Presbyters of Kirks,  
Whose Directory was to kill;  
And some believe it is so still.  
The only difference is, that then  
They slaughtered only Beasts, now Men.  
For then to sacrifice a Bullock,  
Or now and then a Child to Moloch,  
They count a vile Abomination,  
But not to slaughter a whole Nation.  
Peresbytery 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  
Than Gregory and Boniface.  
Such Church must (surely) be a Monster  
With many heads: for if we construe  
What in th' Apocalypse we find,  
According to th' Apostles mind,  
'Tis that the Whore of Babylon  
With many heads did ride upon;  
Which Heads denote the sinful Tribe  
Of Deacon, Priest, Lay-elder, Scribe.   

Lay-elder, Simeon to Levi,  
Whose little finger is as heavy  
As loins of Patriarches, Prince-Prelate,  
Archbishop-secular. This Zealot  
Is of a mongrel, divers kind,  
Clerick before, and Lay behind;  
A Lawless Linsy-woolsy Brother,  
Half of one Order, half another;  
A Creature of amphibious nature,  
On Land a Beast, a Fish in Water;  
That always preys on Grace, or Sin;  
A Sheep without, a Wolf within.  
This fierce Inquisitor has chief  
Dominion over 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 Vessels,  
Made by Contact, as Men get Measles.  
So Cardinals, they say, do grope  
At th' other end the new made Pope.   

Hold, hold, quoth Hudibras, Soft fire,  
They say, does make sweet Malt. Good Squire.  
Festina lente, not too fast;  
For haste (the Proverb says) makes waste.  
The Quirks and Cavils thou dost make  
Are false, and built upon mistake.  
And I shall bring you, with your pack  
Of 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 the are really all one.  
If so, not worst; for if th' are idem,  
Why then, Tantundem dat tantidem.  
For if they are the same, by course  
Neither is better, neither worse.  
But I deny they are the same,  
More than a Maggot and I am.  
That both are Animalia,  
I grant, but not Rationalia:  
For though they do agree in kind,  
Specific difference we find.  
And can no more make Bears of these,  
Than prove my Horse is Socrates.   

That Synods are Bear-gardens too,  
Thou dost affirm; but I say no:  
And thus I prove it, in a word.  
Whats'ever Assembly's not empowered  
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 Ears  
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 licked;  
Or brought to any other fashion  
Than his own Will and Inclination.   

But thou dost further yet in this  
Oppugn thyself and sense, that is,  
Thou wouldst have Presbyters to go  
For Bears and Dogs and Bearwards too.  
A strange Chimaera 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 replete  
As others are with fraud and cheat;  
An Art t' encumber Gifts and Wit,  
And render both for nothing fit;  
Makes light unactive, dull and troubled,  
Like little David in Saul's Doublet;  
A cheat that Scholars put upon  
Other 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 Pagan, Heathenish invention  
Is good for nothing but Contention.  
For as in Sword-and-Buckler Fight,  
All blows do on the Target light:  
So when Men argue, the great'st part  
O' th' Contest falls on terms of Art,  
Until the Fustian stuff be spent,  
And then they fall to th' Argument.   

Quoth Hudibras, Friend Ralph, thou hast  
Outrun the Constabe at last;  
For thou art fallen on a new  
Dispute, as senseless as untrue,  
But to the former opposite,  
And contrary as black to white;  
Mere Disparata, that concerning  
Presbytery, this Human 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 w' are in: therefore let's stop here,  
And rest our wearied bones awhile,  
Already tired with other toil.    

Annotations TO THE FIRST PART.  That could as well bind o'er as swaddle. 
BInd over to the Sessions, as being a Justice of the Peace in his Country, as well as Colonel of a Regiment of Foot, in the Parliaments Army, and a Committee-man,  As Mountaigne playing with his Cat. 
Mountagin in his Essays supposes his Cat thought him a Fool, for losing his time, in playing with her.  Profoundly skilled in Analitique. 
Analitique is a part of Logic that teaches to Decline and Construe Reason, as Grammar does Words.  A Babylonish Dialect. 
A confusion of Languages, such, as some of our Modern Virtuosos use to express themselves in.  That had the Orator who once, 
Demosthenes, who is said to have a defect in his Pronunciation, which he cured by using to speak with little stones in his mouth.  He could reduce all things to Acts. 
The old Philosophers thought to extract Notions out of Natural things, as Chemists do Spirits and Essences, and when they had refined them into the nicest subtleties, gave them as insignificant Names, as those Operators do their Extractions: But (as Seneca says) the subtler things are rendered, they are but the nearer to Nothing. So are all their definitions of things by Acts, the nearer to Nonsense.  Where Truth in person does appear. 
Some Authors have mistaken Truth for a Real thing, when it is nothing but a right Method of putting those Notions, or Images of things (in the understanding of Man) into the same state and order, that their Originals hold in Nature, and therefore Aristotle says, unumquodque sicut se habet secundum esse, ita se habet secundum veritatem. Met. L. 2.  Like words congealed in Northern Air. 
Some report that in Nova Zemble, and Greenland, men's words are wont to be Frozen in the Air, and at the Thaw may be heard.  He knew the Seat of Paradise. 
There is nothing more ridiculous than the various opinions of Authors about the Seat of Paradise; Sir Walter Raleigh has taken a great deal of pains to collect them, in the beginning of his History of the World; where those who are unsatisfied, may be fully informed.  By a High-Dutch Interpreter. 
Goropius Becanus endeavours to prove that High-Dutch was the Language that Adam and Eve spoke in Paradise.  If either of them had a Navel. 
Adam and Eve being made, and not Conceived, and Formed in the womb, had no Navels, as some Leaned Men have supposed, because they had no need of them.  Who first made Music Malleable. 
Music is said to be invented by Pythagoras, who first found out the Proportion of Notes, from the sounds of Hammers upon an Anvil.  Like Mahomet's were Ass and Widgeon. 
Mahomet had a tame Dove that used to pick Seeds out of his Ear, that it might be thought to whisper and Inspire him. His Ass was so intimate with him, that the Mahometans believe it carried him to Heaven, and stays there with him to bring him back again.  It was Canonique, and did grow In Holy Orders by strict Vow. 
He made a Vow never to cut his Beard, until the Parliament had subdued the King, of which Order of Phanatique Votaries, there were many in those times.  So Learned Taliacotius, etc. 
Taliacotius was an Italian Chirurgeon, that found out a way to repair lost and decayed Noses.  But left the Trade, as many more, Have lately done, etc. 
Oliver Cromwell and Colonel Pride had been both Brewers.  That Caesar's Horse, who as Fame goes, Had Corns upon his Feet and Toes. 
Julius Caesar had a Horse with Feet like a Man's. Vtebatur equo insigni, pedibus prope Humanis, & in modum Digitorum ungulis fi●sis. Sueton in Jul. Cap. 61.  The mighty Tyrian Queen that gained With subtle shreds, a Tract of Land. 
Dido Queen of Carthage, who bought as much Land as she could compass with an Ox's Hide, which she cut into small Thongs, and cheated the owner of so much ground, as served her to build Carthage upon.  As the bold Trojan Knight seen Hell. 
Aeneas whom Virgil reports to use a Golden Bough, for a Pass to Hell, and Tailors call that place Hell, where they put all they steal.  In Magic, Talisman, and Cabal. 
Talisman is a Device to destroy any sort of Vermin by casting their Images in Metal, in a precise minute, when the Stars are perfectly inclined to do them all the mischief they can. This has been experimented by some modern Virtuosos, upon Rats, Mice, and Fleas, and found (as they affirm) to produce the Effect with admirable success.  
Raymund Lul interprets Cabal out of the Arabic, to signify Scientia superabundans, which his Commentator, Cornelius Agrippa, by over magnifying, has rendered a very superfluous Foppery.  As far as Adam's first Green Breeches. 
The Author of Magia Adamica endeavours to prove the Learning of the ancient Magis, to be derived from that knowledge which God himself taught Adam in Paradise, before the Fall.  And much of Terra Incognita The Intelligible world could say. 
The Intelligible world, is a kind of Terra del Fuego, or Psittacorum Reg●o, discovered only by the Philosophers, of which they talk, like Parrots, what they do not understand.  As Learned as the wild Irish are. 
No Nation in the World is more addicted to this occult Philosophy, than the Wild Irish, as appears by the whole practice of their Lives, of which see Cambden in his description of Ireland.  In Rosy Crucian Lore as Learned As he that vere Adeptus earned. 
The Fraternity of the Rosy Crucians is very like the Sect of the ancient Gnostici, who called themselves so, from the excellent Learning they pretended to, although they were really the most ridiculous Sots of all Mankind.  
Vere Adeptus, is one that has Commenced in their Fanatique extravagance.  Thou that with Ale or viler Liquors Didst inspire Withers, Pryn, and vicars. 
This vicars was a Man of as great Interest and Authority in the late Reformation, as Pryn or Withers, and as able a Poet; He Translated Virgil's Aeneides into as horrible Travesty in earnest, as the French Scaroon did in Burlesque, and was only outdone in his way by the Politic Author of Oceana.  We that are wisely mounted higher. 
This Speech is set down as it was delivered by the Knight in his own words: but since it is below the Gravity of Heroical Poetry, to admit of Humour, but all men are obliged to speak wisely alike; And too much of so extravagant a Folly would become tedious, and impertinent: The rest of his Harangues have only his Sense expressed in other words, unless in some few places where his own words could not be so well avoided.  In Bloody Cynarctomachy. 
Cynarctomachy signifies nothing in the World, but a Fight between Dogs and Bears, though both the Learned and Ignorant agree, that in such words very great Knowledge is contained: and our Knight as one, or both of those, was of the same opinion.  Or Force, we averruncate it. 
Another of the same kind, which though it appear ever so Learned, and Profound, means nothing else but the weeding of Corn.  The Indians fought for the Truth Of th' Elephant, and Monkey's Tooth. 
The History of the White Elephant and the Monkey's Tooth, which the Indians adored, is written by Monsieur Le Blanc. This Monkey's Tooth was taken by the Portuguese from those that worshipped it, and though they offered a vast Ransom for it, yet the Christians were persuaded by their Priests, rather to burn it. But as soon as the Fire was kindled, all the People present were not able to endure the horrible stink that came from it, as if the Fire had been made of the same Ingredients, with which Seamen use to compose that kind of Granado's, which they call Stinkards.  This Rage in them like Bout-feus. 
Bout-feus is a French word, and therefore it were uncivil to suppose any English Person (especially of Quality) ignorant of it, or so ill-bread as to need an Exposition.  As Indian Britain's are from Penguins 
The American Indians call a great Bird they have, with a white head a Penguin; which signifies the same thing in the British Tongue: From whence (with other words of the same kind) some Authors have endeavoured to prove, That the Americans are originally derived from the Britain's.  And though his Countrymen the Huns. 
This custom of the Huns is described by Ammianus Marcellinus. Hunii Semicruda cujusvis Pecoris carne vescuntur, quam inter femora sua & equorum terga subsertam, fotu calefaciunt brevi. Pap. 686.  — He spoused in India Of Noble House a Lady gay. 
This story in Le blance, of a Bear that married a King's Daughter, is no more strange than many others in most Travellers, that pass with allowance, for if they should write nothing but what is possible, or probable, they might appear to have lost their labour, and observed nothing, but what they might have done as well at home.  They would not suffer the stoutest Dame To swear by Herculeses Name. 
The old Romans had particular Oaths for Men and Women to swear by, and therefore Macrobius says, Viri per Castorem non jurabant antiquitus, nce Mulieres per Herculem, Aedepol autem juramentum erat tam mulieribus quam viris common, etc.  As stout Armida, bold Thalestris. 
Two formidable Women at Arms in Romances, that were cudgelled into Love by their Gallants.  Wore in their Hats like Wedding Garters. 
Some few days after the King had accused the Five Members of Treason in the House of Commons; great crowds of the Rabble came down to West-minster-Hall, with Printed Copies of the Protestation, tied in their Hats like Favours.  Make that Sarcasmous scandal true! 
Abusive, or insulting had been better, but our Knight believed the Learned Languages, more convenient to understand in, than his own Mother-tongue.  And is indeed the selfsame case With theirs that swore t' Et caeteras. 
The Convocation in one of the short Parliaments that ushered in the long one (as Dwarves are wont to do Knights Errand) made an Oath to be taken, by the Clergy, for observing of Canonical obedience; in which they enjoined their Brethren, out of the abundance of their Consciences, to swear to Articles with etc.  Or the French League in which men vowed, To fight to the last drop of Blood. 
The Holy League in France, designed and made for the Extirpation of the Protestant Religion, was the Original, out of which the Solemn League and Covenant here, was (with difference only of Circumstances) most faithfully Transcribed. Nor did the success of both differ more than the Intent and Purpose; for after the destruction of vast numbers of People of all sorts, both ended with the Murders of two Kings, whom they had both sworn to defend: and as our Covenanters swore every Man, to run one before another in the way of Reformation, So did the French in the Holy League, to fight to the last drop of Blood.  First Trulla staved, and Cerdon tailed. 
Staving and Tayling are terms of Art used in the Bear-Garden, and signify there only the parting of Dogs and Bears: though they are used Metaphorically in several other Professions, for moderating, as Law, Divinity, Hectoring, etc.  Or like the late corrected Leathern Ears of the Circumcised Brethren. 
Prynn, Bastwyck, and Burton, who laid down their Ears as Proxies for three Professions of the Godly Party, who not long after maintained their Right and Title to the Pillory, to be as good and lawful, as theirs, who first of all took possession of it in their Names.  By him that Baited the Popes Bull. 
A Learned Divine in King James' time wrote a Polemic Work against the Pope, and gave it that unlucky Nickname, of The Pope's Bull Baited.  Canonical Crabat of Smec. 
Smectymnus was a Club of Parliamentary Holders-forth, The Characters of whose Names and Talents were by themselves expressed, in that senseless and insignificant word; They wore Handkerchiefs about their Necks for a Note of Distinction, (as the Officers of the Parliament Army than did) which afterwards degenerated into Carnal Crabats.  And leave your Vitilitigation. 
Vitilitigation is a word the Knight was passionately in love with, and never failed to use it upon all possible occasions, and therefore to omit it, when it fell in the way, had argued too great a Neglect of his Learning, and Parts, though it means no more than a perverse humour of wrangling.  
FINIS.   

HUDIBRAS. The SECOND PART.  
By the Author of the First. CORRECTED & AMENDED, With Several Additions and Annotations.  
LONDON: Printed by T.H. for T. Sawbridge in Little-Britain, R. Bentley in Russel-street in Covent-Garden, and G. Wells in St. Paul's Churchyard, 1684.   

The SECOND PART of HUDIBRAS.  
The Argument of the first CANTO.  
The Knight being ●●●p'd by th' heels in Prison,  
The last unhappy Expedition,  
Love brings his Action on the Case,  
And lays it upon Hudibras.  
How he receives the Lady's visit,  
And cunningly solicits his suit,  
Which she defers: yet on Parole,  
Redeems him from th' Enchanted Hole.  
CANTO I.  

BUt now t'observe Romantic method,  
Let rusty Steel a while be sheathed;  
And all those harsh & rugged sounds  
Of Bastinadoes, Cuts, and Wounds  
Exchanged to Love's more gentle stile,  
To let our Reader breathe a while:  
In which, that we may be as brief as  
Is possible, by way of Preface.  
Is't not enough to make one strange,  
That some men's fancies should ne'er change?  
But make all people do, and say,  
The same things still the selfsame way:  
Some Writers make all Ladies purloined,  
And Knights pursuing like a Whirlwind:  
Others make all their Knights, in fits  
Of Jealousy, to lose their wits;  
Till drawing blood o' th' Dames, like Witches,  
Th' are forthwith cured of their Caprices.  
Some always thrive in their Amours,  
By pulling Plasters off their Sores;  
As Cripples do to get an Alms,  
Just so do they, and win their Dames.  
Some force whole Regions, in despite  
O' Geography, to change their site:  
Make former times shake hands with latter,  
And that that was before, come after,  
But those that write in Rhyme, still make  
The one Verse for the others sake:  
For, one for Sense, and one for Rhyme,  
I thinks sufficient at one time.  
But we forget in what sad plight  
We lately left the Captived Knight,  
And pensive Squire both bruised in body,  
And conjured into safe Custody:  
Tired with Dispute, and speaking Latin,  
As well as basting, and Bear-baiting;  
And desperate of any course,  
To free himself by wit or force.  
His only Solace was, That now  
His dog-bolt Fortune was so low:  
That either it must quickly end,  
Or turn about again, and mend:  
In which he found th' event, no less,  
Than other times beside his guess;  
There is a tall long-sided Dame,  
(But wondrous light) cleped Fame,  
That like a thin Chameleon board's  
Herself on Air, and eats her words:  
Upon her shoulders wings she wears,  
Like Hanging-sleeves, lined through with Ears,  
And Eyes, and Tongues, as Poets list,  
Made good by deep Mythologist.  
With these, she through the Welkin flies,  
And sometimes carries Truth, oft Lies;  
With Letters hung like Eastern Pigeons;  
And Mercuries of farthest Regions;  
Diurnals written for Regulation  
Of Lying, to inform the Nation:  
And by their public use to bring down  
The rate of Whetstones in the Kingdom.  
About her neck a Packet- Male,  
Fraught with Advice, some fresh, some stale,  
Of Men that walked when they were dead,  
And Cows of Monsters brought to bed:  
Of Hailstones big as Pullet's Eggs,  
And Puppies whelped with twice two legs:  
A Blazing-Star seen in the West,  
By six or seven Men at least.  
Two Trumpets she does sound at once,  
But both of clean contrary tones.  
But whether both with the same Wind,  
Or one before, and one behind,  
We know not; only this can tell,  
Th' one sounds vilely, th' other well.  
And therefore vulgar Authors name  
Th' one good, th' other Evil Fame.  
This tattling Gossip knew too well,  
What mischief Hudibras befell;  
And straight the spiteful tidings bears,  
Of all, to th' unkind Widow's Ears.  
Democritus ne'er laughed so loud  
To see Bawds carted through the crowd,  
Or Funerals with stately Pomp,  
March slowly on in solemn dump;  
As she laughed out, until her back  
As well as sides, was like to crack.  
She vowed she would go see the Sight,  
And visit the distressed Knight,  
To do the Office of a Neighbour,  
And be a Gossip at his Labour:  
And from his wooden Jail, the Stocks,  
To set at large his Fetter-locks,  
And by Exchange, Parole, or Ransom,  
To free him from th' Enchanted Mansion.  
This b'ing resolved, she called for hood  
And Usher, Implements abroad,  
Which Ladies wear, beside a slender  
Young waiting Damsel to attend her.  
All which appearing, on she went,  
To find the Knight in Limbo penned:  
And 'twas not long before she found  
Him, and his stout Squire in the Pound;  
Both coupled in Enchanted Tether,  
By further Leg behind together:  
For as he sat upon his Rump,  
His Head like one in doleful dump,  
Between his knees, his hands applied  
Unto his Ears on either side.  
And by him, in another hole,  
Afflicted Ralpho, Cheek by Joul;  
She came upon him in his wooden  
Magician's Circle, on the sudden,  
As Spirits do, t' a Conjurer,  
When in their dreadful shapes th' appear.  
No sooner did the Knight perceive her,  
But strait he fell into a Fever,  
Inflamed all over with disgrace,  
To be seen by her in such a place;  
Which made him hang the head, and scowl,  
And wink and goggle like an Owl;  
He felt his Brains begin to swim,  
When thus the Dame accosted him;  
This place (quoth she) they says Enchanted,  
And with Delinquent Spirits haunted;  
That here are ty'd in Chains, and scourged,  
Until their guilty Crimes be purged;  
Look, there are two of them appear  
Like Persons I have seen somewhere:  
Some have mistaken Blocks and Posts,  
For Spectres, Apparitions, Ghosts  
With Sawcer-eyes, and Horns; and some  
Have heard the Devil beat a Drum:  
But if our Eyes are not false Glasses,  
That give a wrong account of Faces;  
That Beard and I should be acquainted,  
Before 'twas conjured and enchanted.  
For though it be disfigured somewhat,  
As if't had lately been in Combat;  
It did belong t' a worthy Knight,  
However this Goblin is come by't.  
When Hudibras the Lady heard  
To take kind notice of his Beard,  
And speak with such respect and honour,  
Both of the Beard, and the Beard's Owner,  
He thought it best to set as good  
A face upon it as he could,  
And thus he spoke; Lady, your bright  
And radiant Eyes are in the right:  
The Beard's th' Identique Beard you knew  
The same numerically true:  
Nor is it worn by Fiend or Elf,  
But its Proprietor himself.  
Oh Heavens! quoth she, can that be true?  
I do begin to fear 'tis you:  
Not by your individual Whiskers,  
But by your Dialect and Discourse;  
That never spoke to Man or Beast,  
In notions vulgarly expressed.  
But what malignant Star, alas,  
Has brought you both to this sad pass?  
Quoth he, the fortune of the War,  
Which I am less afflicted for,  
Than to be seen with Beard and Face,  
By you in such a homely case.  
Quoth she, those need not be ashamed,  
For being honourably maimed;  
If he that is in battle conquered,  
Have any Title to his own Beard.  
Though yours be sorely lugged and torn,  
It does your visage more adorn,  
Than if 'twere pruned, and starched, and laundered,  
And cut square by the Russian Standard,  
A torn Beard's like a tattered Ensign,  
That's bravest which there are most rents in.  
That Petticoat about your Shoulders,  
Does not so well become a Soldiers,  
And I'm afraid they are worse handled,  
Although i'th' rear your Beard the Van led.  
And those uneasy bruises make  
My heart for company to ache,  
To see so worshipful a friend  
●'th Pillory set, at the wrong end.  
Quoth Hudibras, This thing called Pain,  
●s (as the Learned Stoics maintain)  
Not bad simpliciter, nor good,  
●ut merely as 'tis understood,  
Sense is deceitful, and may feign,  
As well in counterfeiting pain,  
As other gross Phaenomena's,  
In which it oft mistakes the Case.  
But since th' immortal Intellect  
(That's free from Error and Defect,  
Whose objects still persist the same)  
Is free from outward bruise or maim.  
Which nought external can expose  
To gross material bangs or blows:  
It follows, we can ne'er be sure,  
Whether we pain or not endure:  
And just so far are sore and grieved,  
As by the Fancy is believed.  
Some have been wounded with conceit,  
And died of mere opinion straight.  
Others, though wounded sore in reason,  
Felt nor contusion nor discretion.  
A Saxon Duke did grow so fat,  
That Mice, (as Histories relate)  
Eat Grots and Labyrinths to dwell in  
His Postique parts, without his feeling;  
Then how is't possible a kick,  
Should e'er reach that way to the quick?  
Quoth she, I grant it is in vain  
For one that's basted, to feel pain;  
Because the Pangs his bones endure,  
Contribute nothing to the Cure:  
Yet Honour hurt is wont to rage  
With Pain no Medicine can assuage.  
Quoth he, That Honour's very squeamish  
That takes a basting for a blemish:  
For what's more honourable than scars,  
Or skin to tatters rend in Wars?  
Some have been beaten till they know  
What Wood a Cudgel's of by th' blow;  
Some kicked, until they can feel whether  
A Shoe be Spanish or Neats-Leather:  
And yet have met, after long running,  
With some whom they have taught that cunning,  
The furthest way about, t' overcome,  
I' th' end does prove th' nearest home;  
By Laws of Learned Duelists,  
They that are bruised with Wood, or Fists.  
And think one beating may for once  
Suffice, are Cowards, and Pultroons:  
But if they dare engage t' a second,  
They're stout and gallant fellows reckoned.  
Th' old Romans, freedom did bestow;  
Our Prince's worship with a blow:  
King Pyrrhus cured his splenetic  
And testy Courtiers with a kick.  
The Negus, when some mighty Lord,  
Or Potentate's to be restored,  
And Pardoned for some great offence  
With which he's willing to dispense.  
First has him laid upon his Belly,  
Then beaten back, and side, t' a Jelly;  
That done, he rises, humbly bows,  
And gives thanks for the gracious blows;  
Departs not meanly proud, and boasting,  
Of his magnificent Rib-Roasting.  
The beaten Soldier, proves most manful,  
That like his Sword, endures the Anvil:  
And justly's held more formidable,  
The more his valour's malleable.  
But he that fears a Bastinado,  
Will run away from his own shadow.  
And though I'm now in durance fast,  
By our own Party basely cast,  
Ransom, Exchange, Parole, refused,  
And worse than by th' Enemy used;  
In close Catasta shut, past hope  
Of Wit, or Valour, to elope,  
As Beards, the nearer that they tend  
To th' Earth, still grow more reverend:  
And Cannons shoot the higher pitches,  
The lower we let down their Breeches:  
I'll make this low dejected fate  
Advance me to a greater height.  
Quoth she, Y''ve almost made my in Love  
With that which did my pity move:  
Great Wits, and Valours, like great States,  
Do sometimes sink with their own weights:  
The extremes of Glory, and of Shame,  
Like East and West, become the same:  
No Indian Prince has to his Palace  
More followers than a Thief to th' Gallows.  
But if a beating seem so brave,  
What Glories must a whipping have?  
Such great Achievements cannot fail,  
To cast salt on a Woman's Tail,  
For if I thought your natural Talon  
Of Passive Courage, were so Gallant;  
As you strain hard to have it thought,  
I could grow amorous, and dote.  
When Hudibras this language heard,  
He pricked up's ears, and stroked his Beard:  
Thought he, this is the Lucky hour,  
Wines work, when Vines are in the flower;  
This Crisis then I'll set my rest on,  
And put her boldly to the Question.  
Madam, what you would seem to doubt,  
Shall be to all the world made out,  
How I've been Drubbed, and with what Spirit,  
And Magnanimity, I bear it;  
And if you doubt it to be true,  
I'll stake my self down against you:  
And if I fail in Love or Troth,  
Be you the Winner, and take both  
Quoth she, I've heard old cunning Stagers  
Say, Fools for Arguments use wagers.  
And though I praised your Valour, yet  
I Did not mean to balk your Wit,  
Which if you have, you must needs know  
What, I have told you before now,  
And you b' experiment have proved,  
I cannot love where I'm beloved.  
Quoth Hudibras, 'tis a ●●●rich  
Beyond th' infliction of a Witch;  
So Cheats to play with those still aim,  
That do not understand the Game.  
Love in your heart as idly burns,  
As fire in antique Romans-Urns,  
To warm the Dead, and vainly light  
Those only, that see nothing by't.  
Have you not power to entertain,  
And render Love for Love again?  
As no man can draw in his breath  
At once, and force out Air beneath?  
Or do you love yourself so much,  
To bear all Rivals else a grudge?  
What Fate can lay a greater Curse,  
Than you upon yourself would force;  
For Wedlock without love, some say,  
Is but a Lock without a Key.  
It is a kind of Rape to Marry  
One, that neglects, or cares not for ye:  
For, what does make it Ravishment,  
But b'ing against the the Mind's Consent?  
A Rape, that is the more inhuman,  
For being acted by a Woman:  
Why are you fair, but to entice us  
To love you, that you may despise us?  
But though you cannot love, you say,  
Out of your own Fanatique way,  
Why should you not, at least, allow,  
Those that love you, to do so too:  
For, as you fly me, and pursue  
Love more averse, so I do you;  
And am by your own Doctrine taught,  
To practise what you call a fault,  
Quoth she, If what you say be true,  
You must fly me, as I do you;  
But 'tis not what we do, but say,  
In Love and Preaching, that must sway.  
Quoth he, to bid me not to love,  
Is to forbid my Pulse to move;  
My Beard to grow, my Ears to prick up,  
Or (when I'm in a fit) to kick up:  
Command me to piss out the Moon,  
And 'twill as easily be done.  
Love's powers too great to be withstood  
By feeble humane flesh and blood.  
'Twas he, that brought upon his knees  
The hectering Kill-Cow Hercules;  
Reduced his Leager-lions skin  
TO a Pettecoat, and made him spin:  
Seized on his Club, and made it dwindle  
TO a feeble Distaff, and a Spindle.  
'Twas he made Emperors Gallants  
To their own Sisters, and their Aunts;  
Set Popes, and Cardinals agog  
To play with Pages at Leap frog;  
'Twas he that gave our Senate purges,  
And fluxed the House of many a Burgess;  
Made those that represent the Nation  
Submit and suffer amputation:  
And all the Grandees o' th' the Cabal,  
Adjourn to Tubs, at spring and fall.  
He mounted Synod-men and road 'em  
To Durty-lane, and little Sodom;  
Made 'em Corvett, like Spanish Jenets,  
And take the Ring at Madam—  
'Twas he that made Saint Francis do  
More than the Devil could tempt him too;  
In cold and frosty weather grow  
Enamoured of a Wife of Snow;  
And though she were of rigid temper,  
With melting flames accost and tempt her:  
Which after in enjoyment quenching,  
He hung a Garland on his Engine.  
Quoth she, if Love have these effects,  
Why is it not forbid our Sex?  
Why is't not damned, and interdicted,  
For Diabolical and wicked?  
And song, as out of tune, against,  
As Turk and Pope are by the Saints?  
I find, I've greater reason for it,  
Than I believed before t' abhor it.  
Quoth Hudibras, These sad effects  
Spring from your Heathenish neglects  
Of Love's great power, which he returns  
Upon yourselves with equal scorns;  
And those who worthy Lover's slight,  
Plague's with preposterous appetite;  
This made the beauteous Queen of Crete  
To take a Town-Bull for her Sweet;  
And from her greatness stoop so low,  
To be the Rival of a Cow.  
Others to prostitute their great Hearts,  
To be Baboons, and Monkeys Sweethearts.  
Some with the devil himself in League grow  
By's Representative a Negro:  
'Twas this made Vestal-Maids lovesick,  
And venture to be buried Quick.  
Some by their Fathers and their Brothers,  
To be made Mistresses, and Mothers:  
'Tis this that Proudest Dames enamors  
On Lackeys, and Varlets des-Chambres  
Their haughty Stomaches overcomes,  
And makes 'em stoop to Dirty Grooms,  
To slight the World, and to disparage  
Claps, Issue, Infamy, and Marriage.  
Quoth she, these Judgements are severe,  
Yet such, as I should rather bear,  
Than trust men with their Oaths, or prove  
Their faith, and secrecy in love.  
Says he, their is a weighty reason,  
For secrecy in Love as Treason.  
Love is a Burglarer, a Felon,  
That at the Windore-eie does steal in,  
To rob the the Heart, and with his prey  
Steals out again a closer way,  
Which whosoever can discover,  
He's sure (as he deserves) to suffer.  
Love is a fire, that burns and sparkles,  
In Men, as naturally as in Char-coals,  
Which sooty Chemists stop in holes,  
When out of Wood, they extract Coals;  
So Lovers, should their Passions choke,  
That though they burn, they may not smoak.  
'Tis like that sturdy Thief that stole,  
And dragged Beasts backwards, into's hole:  
So Love does Lovers; and us Men  
Draws by the Tails into his Den;  
That no impression may discover,  
And trace t' his Cave, the wary Lover.  
But if you doubt I should reveal  
What you entrust me under Seal,  
I'll prove myself as close and virtuous,  
As, your own Secretary, Albertus,  
Quoth she, I grant you may be close  
In hiding what your aims propose;  
Love-Passions are like Parables,  
By which men still mean something else:  
Though Love be all the world's pretence,  
money's the My thologic fence,  
The real substance of the shadow,  
Which all Address and Courtship's made to.  
Thought he, I understand your Play,  
And how to quit you your own way;  
He that will win his Dame, must do,  
As Love does, when he bends his Bow:  
With the one hand thrust the Lady from,  
And with the other pull her home.  
I grant, quoth he, Wealth is a great  
Provocative, to amorous heat;  
It is all Philters, and high diet  
That makes Love Rampant, and to fly out:  
'Tis Beauty always in the Flower,  
That buds and blossoms at fourscore:  
'Tis that by which the Sun and Moon,  
At their own weapons are outdone;  
That make Knights Errand fall in trances,  
And lay about 'em in Romances.  
'tis Virtue, Wit, and Worth, and all,  
That Men Divine and Sacred call.  
For what is Worth in any thing,  
But so much Money as 'twill bring?  
Or what but Riches is there known,  
Which man can solely call his own;  
In which, no Creatures goes his half,  
Unless it be to squint and laugh?  
I do confess, with Goods and Land,  
I'd have a Wife, at second hand;  
And such you are: Nor is't your person,  
My stomach's set so sharp and sierce on,  
But 'tis (your better part) your Riches,  
That my enamoured heart bewitches;  
Let me your fortune but possess,  
And settle your person how you please:  
Or make it o'er in trust to the Devil,  
You'll find me reasonable and Civil.  
Quoth she, I like this plainess better  
Than false Mock-Passion, Speech, or Letter,  
Or any feat of qualm or swooning,  
But hanging of yourself, or drowning;  
Your only way with me, to break,  
Your mind, is breaking of your Neck:  
For as when Merchants break, overthrown  
Like Ninepins, they strike others down;  
So, that would break my heart, which done,  
My tempting fortune is your own.  
These are but trifles, every Lover  
Will damn himself, over and over,  
And greater matters undertake,  
For a less worthy Mistress sake:  
Yet th' are the only ways to prove  
The unfeigned realties of Love;  
For he that hangs, or beats out's brains,  
The Devils in him if he feigns.  
Quoth Hudibras, this way's too rough,  
For mere experiment, and proof;  
It is no jesting trivial matter,  
To swing in th' Air, or plunge in Water,  
And like a Water-witch, try love.  
That's to destroy, and not to prove:  
As if a man should be dissected,  
To find what part is disaffected:  
Your better way is to make over,  
In Trust, your fortune to your Lover;  
Trust is a Trial, if it break,  
'tis not so desperate as a Neck:  
Beside, th' experiment's more certain,  
Men venture Necks to gain a Fortune;  
The Soldier does it every day  
(Eight to the week) for sixpence pay:  
Your Pettifoggers damn their Souls,  
To share with Knaves in Cheating Fools:  
And Merchants venturing through the Main,  
'Slight Pirates, Rocks and Horns for gain.  
This is the way I advise you to,  
Trust me, and see what I will do.  
Quoth she, I should be loath to run  
Myself all th' hazard, and you none.  
Which must be done, unless some deed  
Of yours, aforesaid do precede;  
Give but yourself one gentle swing,  
For trial, and I'll cut the string:  
Or give that Reverend Head, a maul,  
Or two, or three, against a Wall;  
To show you are a man of Mettle,  
And I'll engage myself, to settle.  
Quoth he, my Head's not made of brass,  
As Friar Bacon's noddle was:  
Nor (like the Indian's scull) so tough,  
That Authors say, 'twas Musket-proof:  
As it had need to be to enter,  
As yet, on any new Adventure;  
You see what bangs it has endured,  
That would, before new feats, be cured,  
But if that's all you stand upon;  
Here strike, me luck, it shall be done.  
Quoth she, the matter's not so far gone  
As you suppose, Two words t' a Bargain,  
That may be done, and time enough,  
When you have given down right proof:  
And yet 'tis no Fantastic pike,  
I have to love, nor coy dislike;  
'Tis no implicit nice Aversion  
TO your Conversation, Mien, or Person:  
But a just fear, lest you should prove  
False, and perfidious in Love;  
For if I thought you could be true,  
I could love twice as much as you.  
Quoth he, My faith as Adamantine  
As Chains of Destiny, I'll maintain;  
True as Apollo ever spoke,  
Or Oracle from heart of Oak.  
And if you'll give my flame but vent,  
Now in close hugger-mugger penned,  
And shine upon me but benignly,  
With that one, and that other Pigsny,  
The Sun and Day shall sooner part,  
Than Love, or you, shake off my heart.  
The Sun that shall no more dispense  
His own, but your bright influence;  
I'll carve your name on Barks of Trees.  
With True-love's knots, and Flourishes;  
That shall infuse eternal spring,  
And everlasting flourishing:  
Drink every Letter on't, in Stum;  
And make it brisk Champaign become;  
Where e'er you tread, your foot shall set  
The Primrose and the Violet;  
All Spices, Perfumes, and sweet Powders,  
Shall borrow from your breath their Odours;  
Nature her Charter shall renew,  
And take all lives of things from you;  
The World depend upon your Eye,  
And when you frown upon it, die;  
Only our loves shall still survive,  
New Worlds and Natures to outlive;  
And, like Herald's Moons, remain  
All Crescents, without change or wane.  
Hold, hold, quoth she, no more of this  
Sir Knight, you take your aim amiss;  
For you will find it a hard Chapter,  
To catch me with Poetic Rapture,  
In which your Mastery of Art,  
Doth show itself and not your Heart;  
Nor will you raise in mine Combustion,  
By dint of high Heroic fustian:  
She that with Poetry is won,  
Is but a Desk to write upon;  
And what men say of her, they mean,  
No more than that on which they lean.  
Some with Arabian Spices strive  
To embalm her cruelly alive;  
Or season her, as French Cooks use,  
Their Haut-gusts, Buollies, or Ragusts;  
Use her so barbarously ill▪  
To grind her Lips upon a Mill,  
Until the Facet Doublet doth  
Fit their Rhimes rather than her mouth;  
Her mouth compared t' an Oyster's, with  
A row of Pearl in't, stead of Teeth;  
Others, make Posies of her Cheeks,  
Where red, and whitest colours mix;  
In which the Lily, and the Rose  
For Indian Lake, and Ceruse goes.  
The Sun and Moon, by her bright eyes,  
Eclisped, and darkened in the skies;  
Are but Black-patches that she wears  
Cut into Suns, and Moons and Stars,  
By which Astrologers, as well  
As those in Heaven above can tell  
What strange Events they do foreshow  
Unto her Under-world below.  
Her Voice the Music of the Spheres,  
So loud it deafens mortal ears;  
As wise Philosophers have thought,  
And that's the cause we hear it not.  
This has been done by some, who those  
Th' adored in Rhyme, would kick in Prose;  
And in those Ribbons would have hung,  
Of which melodiously they sung.  
That have the hard fate, to write best  
Of those still that deserve it least;  
It matters not, how false, or forced,  
So the best things be said o' th' worst;  
It goes for nothing when 'tis said,  
Only the Arrow's drawn to th' head,  
Whether it be Swan or Goose  
They levelly at: So Shepherds use  
To set the same mark on the hip  
Both of their sound and rotten Sheep.  
For Wits that carry low or wide,  
Must be aimed higher, or beside,  
The mark which else they ne'er come nigh,  
But when they take their aim awry.  
But I do wonder you should choose  
This way t' attaque me with your Muse,  
As one cut out to pass your tricks on,  
With Fulhams of Poetic fiction:  
I rather hoped, I should no more  
Hear from you, o' th' Gallanting score:  
For hard dry-bastings use to prove  
The readiest Remedies of Love,  
Next a dry-diet; But if those fail,  
Yet this uneasy Loop-hold Jail  
In which ye are hampered by the fet-lock,  
Cannot but put ye in mind of Wedlock:  
Wedlock, that's worse than any hole here,  
If that may serve you for a Cooler;  
T' allay your Mettle, all agog  
Upon a Wife, the heavi'r clog.  
Nor rather thank your gentle Fate,  
That, for a bruised or broken Pate,  
Has freed you from those knobs, that grow  
Much harder, on the Married Brow:  
But if no dread can cool your Courage,  
From venturing on that Dragon, Marriage;  
Yet give me Quarter, and advance  
To nobler aims, your Puissance:  
Levelly at Beauty, and at Wit,  
The fairest mark is easiest hit.  
Quoth Hudibras, I'm before hand  
In that already, with your command:  
For where does Beauty, and high Wit,  
But in your Constellation, meet?  
Quoth she, What does a match imply,  
But likeness and equality?  
I know you cannot think me fit,  
To be th' Yoke-fellow of your Wit:  
Nor take one of so mean Deserts,  
To be the Partner of your Parts;  
A Grace, which if I could believe,  
I've not the conscience to receive.  
That Conscience, Quoth Hudibras,  
Is misinformed; I'll state the Case.  
A man may be a Legal Donor  
Of any thing whereof he's Owner;  
And may confer it where he lists,  
I' th' Judgement of all Casuists:  
Then Wit, and Parts, and Valour may  
Be ali'nated, and made away,  
By those that are Proprietors;  
As I may give or sell my Horse.  
Quoth she, I grant the Case is true,  
And proper 'twixt your Horse and you;  
But whether I may take, as well  
As you may give away or sell?  
Buyers you know are bid beware;  
And worse than thiefs Receivers are.  
How shall I answer Hue and Cry,  
For a Roan-Gelding, twelve hands high:  
All spurred and switched, a Lock on's hoof,  
A sorrel-mane? can I bring proof,  
Where, when, by whom, and what y'are sold for,  
And in the open Market tolled for?  
Or should I take you for a stray,  
You must be kept a year and day  
(Ere I can own you) here i' th' pound,  
Where, if ye are sought, you may be found:  
And in the mean time I must pay  
For all your Provender and Hay.  
Quoth he, It stands me much upon  
THE enervate this Objection,  
And prove myself, by Topic clear,  
No Gelding, as you would infer.  
Loss of Virilities averred  
To be the cause of loss of Beard,  
That does (like Embryo in the womb)  
Abortive on the Chin become,  
This first a Woman did invent,  
In envy of Man's ornament.  
Semiramis of Babylon,  
Who first of all cut men o' th' stone:  
To mar their Beards, and laid foundation  
Of Sow-geldering operation.  
Look on this Beard, and tell me whether,  
Eunuches were such, or Geldings either.  
Next it appears, I am no Horse,  
That I can argue, and discourse,  
Have but two legs, and ne'er a tail.  
Quoth she, that nothing will avail;  
For some Philosophers of late here,  
Write, Men have four legs by Nature,  
And that 'tis Custom makes them go  
Erroneously upon but two;  
As 'twas in Germany made good,  
B' a Boy, that lost himself in a Wood;  
And growing down t' a man, was wont  
With Wolves upon all sour to hunt.  
As for your reasons drawn from tails,  
We cannot say, they ' are true or false,  
Till you explain yourself, and show,  
B' experiment, 'tis so or no.  
Quoth he, If you'll join issue on't,  
I'll give you satisfactory account;  
So you will promise, if you lose,  
To settle all, and be my Spouse.  
That never would be done (quoth she)  
To one that wants a Tail, by me:  
For Tails by Nature's sure were meant,  
As well as Beards, for ornament:  
And though the Vulgar count them homely,  
In man or beast, they are so comely,  
So Genteel, Allamode, and handsome,  
I'll never marry man that wants one:  
And till you can demonstrate plain  
You have one equal to your Mane,  
I'll be torn piece-meal by a Horse,  
Ere I'll take you for better or worse.  
The Prince of Cambay's daily food,  
Is Asp, Basilisque, and Toad,  
Which makes him have so strong a breath.  
Each night he stinks a Queen to death;  
Yet I shall rather lie in's Arms,  
Than yours, on any other bearms.  
Quoth he, What Nature can afford,  
I shall produce upon my word;  
And if she ever gave that boon  
To man, I'll prove that I have one;  
I mean, by postulate Illation,  
When you shall offer just occasion;  
But since ye have yet denied to give  
My Heart, your Prisoner, a Reprieve,  
But made it sink down to my heel,  
Let that at least your pity feel,  
And for the sufferings of your Martyr,  
Give its poor Entertainer quarter;  
And by Discharge, or Mainprize grant  
Delivery from this base Restraint.  
Quoth she, I grieve to see your Leg  
Stuck in a hole here like a Peg,  
And if I knew which way to do't,  
(Your Honour safe) I'd let you out.  
That Dames by Jail-delivery  
Of Errand Knights have been set free,  
When by Enchantment they have been,  
And sometimes for it too, laid in;  
Is that which Knights are bound to do  
By Order, Oath, and Honour too:  
For what are they renowned and famous else,  
But aiding of distressed Damosels?  
But for a Lady no ways Errand,  
To free a Knight, we have no warrant  
In any authentical Romance,  
Or Classic Author yet of France:  
And I'd be loath to have you break  
An ancient Custom for a freak,  
Or Innovation introduce  
In place of things of antique use;  
To free your heels by any course,  
That might b' unwholesome to your Spurs:  
Which if I should consent unto,  
It is not in my power to do;  
For 'tis a service must be done ye,  
With solemn previous Cerermony.  
Which always has been used t' untie  
The Charms of those who here do lie;  
For as the Ancients heretofore  
To Honour's Temple had no door,  
But that which through Virtue's lay;  
So, from this Dungeon, there's no way  
To honoured freedom, but by passing  
That other Virtuous School of Lashing,  
Where Knights are kept in narrow lists,  
With wooden Lockets 'bout their wrists,  
In which they for a while are Tenants,  
And for their Ladies suffer Penance:  
W●●●p●●ng, that's Virtues Governess,  
Tut●●●● of Arts, and Sciences;  
That mends the gross mistakes of Nature,  
And puts new life into dull matter;  
That lays foundation for Renown,  
And all the honours of the Gown  
Thus suffered, they are set at large,  
And freed with honour'ble discharge;  
Then in their Robes the Penitentials,  
Are strait presented with Credentials,  
And in their way attended on  
By Magistrates of every Town;  
And all respect and charges paid,  
They're to their ancient Seats conveyed.  
Now if you'll venture for my sake,  
To try the toughness of your back,  
And suffer (as the rest have done)  
The laying of a Whipping on,  
(And may you prosper in your suit,  
As you with equal vigour do't)  
I here engage to be your Bail,  
And free you from th' Unknightly Jail.  
But since our Sex's modesty  
Will not allow I should be by,  
Bring me on Oath, a fair account,  
And honour too, when you have done't;  
And I'll admit you to the place,  
You claim as due as in my good grace.  
If Matrimony and Hanging go  
By Destiny, why not Whipping too?  
What Medicine else can cure the fits  
Of Lovers when they lose their Wits?  
Love is a Boy, by Poets styled,  
Then spare the Rod, and spill the Child,  
A Persian Emperor whipped his Grannum  
The Sea, his Mother Venus came on;  
And hence some Reverend men approve  
Of Rosemary in making Love.  
As skilful Cooper's hoop their Tubs  
With Lydian and with Phrygian Dubs;  
Why may not Whipping have as good  
A grace, performed in Time and Mood;  
With comely movement, and by Art,  
Raise Passion in a Lady's heart;  
It is an easier way, to make  
Love by, than that which many take.  
Who would not rather suffer Whipping,  
Than swallow Toasts of bits of Ribbin?  
Make wicked Verses, Treats, and Faces,  
And spell Names over, with Beer-glasses?  
Be under Vows to hang and die  
Love's Sacrifice, and all a lie?  
With China-Oranges and Tarts,  
And whining Plays, lay baits for Hearts?  
Bride Chambermaids with love and money  
To break no Roguish jests upon ye;  
For Lilies limned on Cheeks, and Roses,  
With painted perfumes, hazard Noses?  
Or venturing to be brisk and wanton,  
Do Penance in a Paper Lantern?  
All this you may compound for, now  
By suffering what I offer you:  
Which is no more than has been done,  
By Knights for Ladies long agone:  
Did not the Great La Mancha do so,  
For the Infanta del Taboso?  
Did not th' Illustrious Bassa make  
Himself a Slave for Misse's sake?  
And with Bulls Pizle, for her love,  
Was tawed as gentle as a Glove?  
Was not young Florio sent (to cool  
His flame from Biancasiore) to School,  
Where Pedant made his Pathic Bum  
For her sake suffer Martyrdom?  
Did not a certain Lady whip,  
Of late her, Husband's own Lordship?  
And though a Grandee of the House,  
clawed him with Fundamental blows,  
Tied him start-naked to a Bedpost,  
And firked his hide as if sh' had rid post;  
And after in the Sessions-Court,  
Where Vvhippings judged, had honour for't?  
This swear you will perform, and then  
I'll set you from th' Enchanted Den,  
And the Magician Circled clear.  
Quoth he, I do profess and swear,  
And will perform what you enjoin,  
Or may I never see you mine.  
Amen (quoth she) Then turned about,  
And bid her Squire let him out.  
But ere an Artist could be found  
T' undo the Charms another bound,  
The Sun grew low, and left the Skies,  
Put down (some write) by Lady's eyes.  
The Moon pulled off her veil of Light,  
That hides her face by day from sight.  
(Mysterious Veil, of brightness made,  
That's both her lustre, and her shade)  
And in the Night as freely shone,  
As if her Rays had been her own:  
For Darkness is the proper Sphere,  
Where all false Glories use t' appear.  
The twinkling Stars began to muster,  
And glitter with their borrowed lustre,  
While Sleep the wearied World relieved,  
By counterfeiting Death revived.  
Our Votary thought it best t' adjourn  
His Whipping-pennance till the morn,  
And not to carry on a Work  
Of such importance, in the Dark,  
With erring haste, but rather stay,  
And do't i' th' open face of Day;  
And in the mean time, go in quest  
Of next Retreat to take his Rest.    

CANTO II.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
The Knight and Squire in hot Dispute,  
Within an Ace of falling out;  
Are parted with a sudden fright  
Of strange Alarm, and stranger Sight;  
With which adventuring to stickle,  
They're sent away in nasty pickle.  

'tIs strange how some men's Tempers suit  
(Like Bawd and Brandee) with Dispute,  
That for their own Opinions stand fast,  
Only to have them clawed and canvased.  
That kept their Consciences in Cases,  
As Fiddlers do their Crowds and Bases,  
Ne'er to be used but when they're bend  
To play a fit for Argument.  
Make true and false, unjust and just,  
Of no use but to be discussed.  
Dispute and set a Paradox,  
Like a straight Boot upon the Stocks,  
And stretch it more unmercifully,  
Than Helmont, Mountaign, White, or Tully.  
So th' ancient Stoics in their Porch,  
With sierce dispute maintained their Church,  
Beat out their Brains in sight and study,  
To prove that Virtue is a Body,  
That Bonum is an Animal,  
Made good with stout Polemique Brawl:  
In which, some hundreds on the place  
Were slain outright, and many a face  
Retrenched of Nose, and Eyes, and Beard,  
To maintain what their Sect averred.  
All which the Knight and Squire in wrath  
Had like t' have suffered for their faith;  
Each striving to make good his own,  
As by the sequel shall be shown.  
The Sun had long since in the Lap  
Of Thetis, taken out his Nap,  
And like a Lobster boiled, the Morn  
From black to red began to turn.  
When Hudibras, whom thoughts and aching  
'twixt sleeping kept all night, and waking,  
Began to rouse his drowsy eyes,  
And from his Couch prepared to rise;  
Resolving to dispatch the Deed  
He vowed to do, with trusty speed.  
But first, with knocking loud and bawling,  
He roused the Squire, in Truckle lolling,  
And, after many Circumstances,  
Which vulgar Authors in Romances,  
Do use to spend their time and wits on,  
To make impertinent Description;  
They got (with much ado) to Horse  
And to the Castle bent their Course,  
In which he to the Dame before  
To suffer whipping Duty swore:  
Where now arrived, and half unharnest,  
To carry on the work in earnest,  
He stopped and paused upon the sudden,  
And with a serious forehead plodding,  
Sprung a new Scruple in his head,  
Which first he scratched and after sed;  
Whether it be direct infringing  
An Oath, if I should wave this swinging,  
And what I've sworn to bear, forbear,  
And so b' Equivocation swear;  
Or whether't be a lesser Sin,  
To be forsworn, than act the thing,  
Are deep and subtle points, which must,  
T' inform my Conscience, be discussed,  
In which to err a little, may  
To errors infinite make way:  
And therefore I desire to know  
Thy Judgement, ere we farther go.  
Quoth Ralpho, since you do enjoined  
I shall enlarge upon the Point;  
And for my own part do not doubt  
Th' Affirmative may be made out.  
But first to state the Case aright,  
For best advantage of our light:  
And thus 'tis: Vvhethered be a Sin,  
To claw and curry your own skin  
Greater, or less, than to forbear,  
And that you are forsworn, forswear.  
But first, o' th' first: The Inward man,  
And Outward, like a Clan and Clan,  
Have always been at Daggers-drawing,  
And one another Clapper-clawing:  
Not that they really cuff or fence,  
But in a Spiritual Mystique sense,  
Which to mistake, and make 'em squabble,  
In literal fray, 's abominable;  
'Tis Heathenish, in frequent use,  
With Pagans, and Apostate Jews,  
To offer Sacrifice of Bridewells:  
Like modern Indians to their Idols,  
And mongrel Christians of our times,  
That expiate less with greater Crimes,  
And call the foul Abomination,  
Contrition, and Mortification.  
Is't not enough we're bruised and kicked,  
With sinful members of the wicked;  
Our Vessels, that are sanctified,  
Profaned and curried, back and side;  
But we must claw ourselves, with shameful,  
And Heathen stripes, by their example?  
Which (were there nothing to forbid it)  
Is impious because they did it.  
This therefore may be justly reckoned  
A henious sin. Now to the second,  
That Saints may claim a Dispensation  
To swear and forswear on occasion;  
I doubt not, but it will appear,  
With pregnant light. The point is clear.  
Oaths are but words, and words but wind,  
Too feeble implements to bind;  
And hold with deeds proportion, so  
As shadows to a substance do.  
Then when they strive for place, 'tis fit  
The weaker Vessel should submit:  
Although your Church be opposite  
To ours, as Black Friars are to White,  
In Rule and Order: Yet I grant  
You are a Reformado Saint;  
And what the Saints do claim as due,  
You may pretend a Title to:  
But Saints, whom Oaths or Vows oblige,  
Know little of their Privilege;  
Farther (I mean) than carrying on  
Some self-advantage of their own,  
For if the devil, to serve his turn,  
Can tell Truth; why the Saints should scorn  
When it serves theirs, to swear and lie,  
I think, there's little reason why:  
Else h'has a greater power than they,  
Which 'twere impiety to say.  
W' are not commanded to forbear,  
Indefinitely, at all to swear.  
But to swear idly; and in vain,  
Without self-interest or gain.  
For breaking of an Oath, and Lying,  
Is but a kind of Self-denying,  
A Saintlike virtue, and from hence,  
Some have broke Oaths by Providence:  
Some, to the Glory of the Lord,  
Perjured themselves, and broke their word:  
And this, the constant Rule and Practise  
Of all our late Apostles Acts is,  
Was not the Cause at first begun  
With Perjury, and carried on?  
Was there an Oath the Godly took,  
But, in due time and place, they broke?  
Did we not bring our Oaths in first,  
Before our plate, to have them burst,  
And cast in fitter Models, for  
The present use of Church and War?  
Did not our Worthies of the House,  
Before they broke the Peace, break Vows?  
For having freed us, first, from both  
Th' Allegiance and Supremacy Oath;  
Did they not, next, compel the Nation,  
To ●ake, and break the Protestation?  
To swear, and after to recant,  
The Solemn League and Covenant?  
To take th' Engagement, and disclaim it,  
Enforced by those, who first did frame it?  
Did they not swear at first, to fight  
For the KING's Safety, and his Right?  
And after marched to find him out,  
And charged him home with Horse and Foot?  
And yet still had the confidence,  
To swear it was in his defence?  
Did they not swear to live and die  
With Essex, and straight laid him by?  
If that were all, for some have sworn  
As false as they, if th' did no more.  
Did they not swear to maintain Law,  
In which that swearing made a Flaw?  
For Protestant Religion Vow,  
That did that Vowing disallow?  
For Privilege of Parliament,  
In which that swearing made a Rent?  
And, since, of all the three, not one  
Is left in being, 'tis well known.  
Did they not swear, in express words,  
To prop and back the House of Lords?  
And after turned out the whole House-ful  
Of Peers, as dangerous, and unuseful?  
So Cromwell with deep Oaths and Vows,  
Swore all the Commons out o' th' House,  
Vowed that the Red-coats would disband,  
I marry would they at their Command.  
And trouled 'em on, and swore, and swore,  
Till th' Army turned 'em out of Door;  
This tells us plainly, what they thought,  
That Oaths and swearing goes for nought.  
And that by them th' were only meant,  
To serve for an Expedient.  
What was the Public Faith found out for,  
But to slur men of what they fought for?  
The Public Faith, which every one  
Is bound t' observe, yet kept by none;  
And if that go for nothing, why  
Should Private Faith have such a tye?  
Oaths were not purposed more than Law,  
To keep the Good and Just in awe,  
But to confine the Bad and Sinful,  
Like Moral Cattle in a Pinfold,  
A Saints of th' heavenly Realm a Peer:  
And as no Peer is bound to swear,  
But on the Gospel of his Honour,  
Of which he may dispose, as Owner;  
It follows, though the thing be forgery,  
And false, th' affirm, it is no perjury,  
But a mere Ceremony, and a breach  
Of nothing, but a form of speech,  
And goes for no more when 'tis took,  
Than mere saluting of the Book.  
Suppose the Scriptures are of force,  
They're but Commissions of Course,  
And Saints have freedom to digress,  
And vary from 'em as they please;  
Or misinterpret them, by private  
Instructions, to all Aims they drive at;  
Then why should we ourselves abridge  
And Curtail our own Privilege?  
Quakers (that like to Lanterns, bear  
Their light within 'em) will not swear.  
Their Gospel is an Accidence,  
By which they construe Conscience,  
And hold no sin so deeply red,  
As that of breaking Priscian's head;  
(The Head and Founder of their Order,  
That stirring Hats held worse than murder.)  
These thinking th' are obliged to Troth  
In swearing, will not take an Oath;  
Like Mules, who if th' have not their will  
To keep their own pace, stand stock still;  
But they are weak, and little know  
What Freeborn Consciences may do,  
'Tis the temptation of the Devil,  
That makes all humane actions evil:  
For Saints may do the same things by  
The Spirit, in Sincerity,  
Which other men are tempted to,  
And at the Devil's instance do;  
And yet the Actions be contrary,  
Just as the Saints and Wicked vary.  
For as on land there is no Beast,  
But in some Fish at Sea's expressed;  
So in the Wicked there's no Vice,  
Of which the Saints have not a spice;  
And yet that thing that's pious in  
The one, in th' other is a Sin.  
Is't not Ridiculous, and Nonsense,  
A Saint should be a slave to Conscience?  
That aught to be above such Fancies,  
As far, as above Ordinances.  
She's of the Wicked, as I guess,  
B' her lo●ks, her language, and her dress,  
And though, like Constables, we search  
For false Wares, one another's Church:  
Yet all of us hold this for true,  
No Faith is to the wicked due;  
For Truth is Precious and Divine,  
Too rich a Pearl for Carnal Swine.  
Quoth Hudibras, All this is true,  
Yet 'tis not fit that all men knew  
Those Mysteries and Revelations;  
And therefore Topical Evasions  
Of subtle Turns, and Shifts of sense,  
Serve best with th' Wicked for pretence,  
Such as the learned Jesuits use,  
And Presbyterians, for excuse,  
Against the Protestants, when th' happen  
To find their Churches taken napping.  
As thus: A breach of Oath is Duple,  
And either way admits a scruple,  
And may be ex parte of the Maker,  
More criminal, than the injured Taker.  
For he that strains too far a Vow,  
Will break it like an o'er-bent Bow:  
And he that made, and forced it, broke it,  
Not he that for convenience took it:  
A broken Oath is, quatenus Oath,  
As sound t' all purposes of Troth,  
As broken Laws are ne'er the worse,  
Nay till th' are broken, have no force,  
What's Justice to a man, or Laws,  
That never comes within their Claws?  
They have no power, but to admonish,  
Cannot control, coerce, or punish,  
Until they're broken, and then touch  
Those only that do make them such.  
Beside, no Engagement is allowed,  
By men in Prison made, for Good;  
For when they're set at liberty,  
They're from th' Engagement too, set free:  
The Rabbins write, when any Jew  
Did make to God, or Man, a Vow,  
Which afterward he found untoward,  
And stubborn to be kept, or too hard;  
Any three other Jews o' th' Nation,  
Might free him from the Obligation:  
And have not two Saints power to use  
A greater privilege than three Jews?  
The Court of Conscience, which in Man  
Should be supreme and Sovereign,  
Is't fit, should be subordinate  
To every petty Court i' th' State,  
And have less Power than the lesser,  
To deal with Perjury at pleasure?  
Have its proceedings disallowed, or  
Allowed, at fancy of Py-powder?  
Tell all it does, or does not know,  
For swearing ex Officio?  
Be forced t' impeach a broken hedge,  
And Pigs unringed at Vis. Franc. Pledge.  
Discover Thiefs, and Bawds, Recusants,  
Priests, Witches, Eavesdroppers, and Nuisance;  
Tell who did play at Games unlawful,  
And who filled Pots of Ale but half full.  
And have no power at all, nor shift,  
To help itself at a dead lift?  
Why should not Conscience have Vacation,  
As well as other Courts o' th' Nation?  
Have equal power to adjourn  
Appoint Appearance and return?  
And make as nice distinctions serve  
To split a Case; as those that carve  
Invoking Cuckolds names, hit joints,  
Why should not tricks as slight, do points?  
Is not the High-Court of Justice sworn  
To judge that Law that serves their turn?  
Make their own Jealousies High-Treason,  
And fix 'em whomsoe'er they please on?  
Cannot the Learned Council there,  
Make Laws in any shape appear?  
Mould 'em as Witches do their Clay,  
When they make Pictures to destroy?  
And vex 'em into any form,  
That fits their purpose to do harm?  
Rack 'em until they do confess,  
Impeach of Treason, whom they please,  
And most perfidiously condemn,  
Those that engaged their Lives for them?  
And yet do nothing in their own sense,  
But what they ought by Oath and Conscience!  
Can they not juggle, and, with slight  
Conveyance, play with wrong and right;  
And sell their blasts of wind as dear,  
As Lapland Witches bottled Air?  
Will not Fear, Favor, Bribe, and grudge,  
The same Case several ways adjudge;  
As Seamen with the selfsame Gale  
Will several different courses sail;  
As when the Sea breaks o'er its bounds,  
And overflows the level grounds;  
Those Banks and Dams, that like a Screen,  
Did keep it out, now keep it in:  
So when Tyrannical Usurpation  
Invades the freedom of a Nation,  
The Laws o' th' Land that were intended  
To keep it out, are made defend it.  
Does not in Chanc'ry every man swear,  
What makes best for him in his Answer?  
Is not the winding up Witnesses,  
And nicking more than half the business?  
For Witnesses, like Watches, go  
Just as they're set, too fast or slow.  
And where in Conscience, th' are straight laced;  
'tis ten to one, that side is cast.  
Do not your Juries give their Verdict  
As if they felt the Cause, not heard it?  
And as they please make Matter of Fact  
Run all on one side, as th' are packed?  
Nature has made Man's breast no Windows,  
To publish what he does within doors?  
Nor what dark secrets there inhabit,  
Unless his own rash folly blob it.  
If Oaths can do a man no good,  
In his own business, why they should  
In other matters do him hurt,  
I think there's little reason for't.  
He that imposes an Oath, makes it,  
Not he, that for convenience takes it:  
Then how can any man be said  
To break an Oath he never made?  
These Reasons may perhaps look oddly  
To th' Wicked, though they evince the Godly;  
But if they will not serve to clear  
My Honour, I am ne'er the near.  
Honour is like that glassy Bubble  
That finds Philosophers such trouble,  
Whose least part cracked, the whole does fly,  
And Wits are cracked, to find out why.  
Quoth Ralpho, honour's but a Word,  
To swear by only, in a Lord:  
In other men 'tis but a Huff,  
To vapour with, instead of Proof,  
That like a When, looks big, and swells,  
Is senseless, and just nothing else.  
Let it (quoth he) be what it will,  
It has the World's opinion still,  
But as men are not Wise that run  
The slightest hazard they may shun:  
There may a Medium be found out  
To clear to all the World the doubt;  
And that is, if a man may do't  
By Proxy whipped, or Substitute.  
Though nice, and dark the Point appear,  
(Quoth Ralph) it may hold up and clear.  
That Sinners may supply the place  
Of suffering Saints is a plain Case.  
Justice giveth Sentence, many times,  
On one man for another's Crimes:  
Our Brethren of New-England use  
Choice Malefactors to excuse,  
And hang the Guiltless in their stead,  
Of whom the Churches have less need.  
As latelyed happened: in a Town,  
There lived a Cobbler, and but one,  
That out of Doctrine could cut Use,  
And mend men's Lives as well as Shoes:  
This precious Brother having slain,  
In times of Peace, an Indian;  
(Not out of Malice, but mere Zeal,  
Because he was an Infidel)  
The mighty Tottipottymoy  
Sent to our Elders an Envoy,  
Complaining sorely of the Breach,  
Of League, held forth by Brother Patch,  
Against the Articles in force  
Between both Churches, his, and ours:  
For which he craved the Saints to render  
Into his hands, or hang th' Offender:  
But they maturely having weighed,  
They had no more but him o' th' Trade,  
(A man, that served them in a double  
Capacity, to Teach and Cobble)  
Resolved to spare him, yet to do  
The Indian Hoghan Moghan too  
Impartial justice, in his stead did  
Hang an old Weaver that was Bedrid.  
Then wherefore may not you be skip'd,  
And in your room another whipped:  
For all Philosophers, but the Sceptic,  
Hold Whipping may be Sympathetick.  
It is enough, quoth Hudibras,  
Thou hast resolved, and cleared the Case,  
And canst in Conscience, not refuse,  
From thy own Doctrine, to raise Use:  
I know thou wilt not (for my sake)  
Be tender-conscienced of thy back:  
Then strip thee of thy Carnal Jerkin,  
And give thy outward-fellow a ferking:  
For when thy Vessel, is new hooped,  
All Leaks of sinning will be stopped.  
Quoth Ralpho, You mistake the matter,  
For in all Scruples of this Nature,  
No man includes himself, nor turns  
The Point upon his own Concerns.  
As no man of his own self catches  
The Itch, or amorous French Aches:  
So no man does himself convince  
By his own Doctrine of his Sins.  
And though all cry down Self, none means  
His own self in a literal Sense.  
Beside, it is not only Foppish,  
But Vile, Idolatrous, and Popish,  
For one man, out of his own Skin,  
To frisk and whip another's Sin:  
As Pedants out of Schoolboy's breeches,  
Do claw and curry their own itches.  
But in this Case it is profane,  
And sinful too, because in vain:  
For we must take our Oaths upon it,  
You did the deed, when I have done it.  
Quoth Hudibras, That's answered soon;  
Give us the Whip, we'll lay it on.  
Quoth Ralpho, That we may swear true,  
'Twere properer that I whipped you:  
For when with your consent 'tis done,  
The Act is really your own.  
Quoth Hudibras, It is in vain  
(I see) to argue 'gainst the grain;  
Or, like the Stars, incline men to  
What they're averse themselves to do,  
For when Disputes are wearied out,  
'tis Interest still resolves the doubt.  
But since no reason can confute ye,  
I'll try to force you to your Duty;  
For so it is, how e'er you mince it,  
As ere we part I shall evince it,  
And curry (if you stand out) whether  
You will or no, your stubborn Leather.  
Canst thou refuse to bear thy part,  
I' th' public Work, base as thou art?  
To higgle thus, for a few blows,  
To gain thy Knight an opulent Spouse,  
Whose wealth his bowels yern to purchase,  
Merely for th' interest of the Churches;  
And when he has it in his claws,  
Will not be hidebound to the Cause;  
Nor shalt thou find him a Curmudg in,  
If thou dispatch it without grudging:  
If not, resolve before we go,  
That you and I must pull a Crow.  
YE had best (quoth Ralpho) as the Ancients  
Say wisely, Have a care ' o th' main chance,  
And look before you ere you leap;  
For, as you sow, you are like to reap.  
And were ye as good as George a ●reen,  
I shall make bold to turn again;  
Nor am I doubtful of the Issue  
In a just Quarrel; and mine is so.  
Is't sitting for a man of Honour,  
To whip the Saints like Bishop Bonner,  
A Knight t' usurp the Beadle's Office,  
For which ye are like to raise brave Trophies?  
But I advise you (not for fear,  
But for your own sake) to forbear,  
And for the Churches, which may chance  
From hence, to spring a variance;  
And raise among themselves new Scruples,  
Whom common danger hardly couples.  
Remember how in Arms and Politics,  
We still have worsted all your holy Tricks.  
Trappaned your party with Intregue,  
And took your Grandees down a peg,  
New-modelled th' Army, and cashiered  
All that to Legion SMEC adhered,  
Made a mere Utensil o' your Church  
And after left it in the lurch,  
A Scaffold to build up our own,  
And when w' done with 't, pulled it down,  
O'er reached your Rabbins of the Synod,  
And snapped their Cannons with a Why-not.  
(Grave Synod-men that were revered  
For solid Face and depth of Beard)  
Their Classique-model proved a Maggot,  
Their Directory and Indian Pagod.  
And drowned their Discipline like a Kitten,  
On which th' had been so long a fitting;  
Decried it as a Holy Cheat,  
Grown out of Date, and Obsolete,  
And all the Saints o' the first Grass,  
As casting Foles of balam's Ass.  
At this the Knight grew high in Chafe,  
And staring furiously on Ralph,  
He trembled and looked pale with ire,  
Like Ashes first, then Red as Fire.  
Have I (quoth he) been ta'en in fight,  
And for so many Moons lain by't;  
And when all other means did fail,  
Have been exchanged for Tubs of Ale:  
Not but they thought me worth a Ransom,  
Much more considerable and handsome,  
But for their own sakes, and for fear,  
They were not safe, when I was there?  
Now to be baffled by a Scoundrel,  
An upstart Sect'ry and a Mongrel,  
Such as breed out of peccant humours  
Of our own Church, like Wens, and Tumours  
And like a Maggot in a Sore,  
Would that which gave it life, devour:  
It never shall be done, nor said:  
With that he seized upon his Blade.  
And Ralpho too, as quick and bold,  
Upon his Basket hilt laid hold,  
With equal readiness prepared  
To draw, and stand upon his Guard,  
When both were parted on the sudden,  
With hideous clamour, and a loud one,  
As of all sorts of Noise had been  
Contracted into one loud Din;  
Or that some Member to be chosen,  
Had got the Odds above a Thousand;  
And by the greatness of his noise,  
Proved fittest for his Country's choice.  
This strange surprisal put the Knight,  
And wrathful Squire into a fright;  
And though they stood prepared, with fatal,  
Impetious rancour, to join Battle;  
Both though it was their wisest course,  
To wave the Fight, and mount to Horse;  
And to secure, by swift retreating,  
Themselves from danger of worse beating.  
Yet neither of them would disparage,  
By uttering of his mind, his Courage,  
Which made 'em stoutly keep their ground  
With horror and disdain, wind-bound.  
And now the cause of all their fear,  
By slow degrees approached so near,  
They might distinguish different noise  
Of Horns, and Pans, and Dogs, and Boys,  
And Kettle Drums, whose sullen Dub  
Sounds like the hooping of a Tub:  
But when the Sight appeared in view,  
They found it was an antique Show,  
A Triumph, that for Pomp, and State,  
Did proudest Romans emulate;  
For as the Aldermen of Rome  
For foes at training overcome,  
And not enlarging Territory,  
(As some mistaken write in Story)  
Being mounted in their best Array,  
Upon a Car, and who but they?  
And followed with a a world of Tall Lads,  
That merry Ditties troled, and Ballads;  
Did ride, with many a good morrow,  
Crying, hay for our Town through the Burrow:  
So when this Triumph drew so nigh,  
They might particulars descry,  
They never saw two things so Pat,  
In all respects, as this, and that.  
First he that led the Cavalcate,  
Wore a Sowgelder's Flagellate,  
On which he blew so strong a Levet,  
As well feed Lawyer on his Breviate.  
When over one another's heads,  
They charge (three Ranks at once) like Swedes  
Next Pan's, and Kettles of all keys,  
From Trebles down to double-base,  
And, after them upon a Nag,  
That might pass for a forehand Stag,  
A Cornet road, and on his Staff,  
A Smock displayed, did proudly wave,  
Then Bagpipes of the loudest Drones,  
With snuffing broken-winded tones;  
Whose blasts of Air in Pockets shut,  
Sound filthier than from the Gut,  
And make a viler noise than Swine  
In windy-weather, when they whine.  
Next, one upon a pair of Panniers,  
Full fraught with that, which for good manners  
Shall here be nameless, mixed with Grains  
Which he dispensed among the Swains,  
And busily upon the Crowd,  
At random round about bestowed.  
Then mounted on a horned Horse,  
One bore a Gauntlet and Gilt-spurs.  
Tied to the Pummel of a long Swor  
He held reversed the point turned downward.  
Next after, on a raw-boned Steed,  
The Conqueror's Standard-bearer rid,  
And bore aloft before the Champion  
A Petticoat displayed, and Rampant;  
Near whom the Amazon triumphant,  
Bestrid her Beast, and on the Rump on't  
Sat face to tail, and Bum to Bum,  
The Warrior whilom overcome;  
Armed with a Spindle and a Distaff,  
Which as he road, she made him twist off;  
And when he loitered, o'er her Shoulder,  
Chastised the Reformado Soldier.  
Before the Dame, and round about,  
Marched Whifflers, and Staffiers on foot,  
With Lackeys, Grooms, Valets and Pages,  
In fit and proper equipages;  
Of whom, some Torches bore, some Links,  
Before the proud Virago-Minx,  
That was both Madam, and a Don,  
Like Nero's Sporus, or Pope Joan;  
And at fit Periods the whole Rout  
Set up their throats with clamorous shout.  
The Knight transported, and the Squire  
Put up their Weapons, and their Ire;  
And Hudibras, who used to ponder  
On such Sights, with judicious wonder,  
Could hold no longer to impart  
His Animadversions, for his Heart.  
Quoth he, In all my life till now,  
I ne'er saw so profane a Show.  
It is a Paganish invention,  
Which Heathen writers often mention:  
And he, who made it, had read Goodwin  
(I warrant him) and understood him:  
With all the Grecians Speeds and Stow's:  
That best describe those Ancient Shows,  
And has observed all fit Decorums,  
We find described by old Historians.  
For as a Roman Conqueror,  
That put an end to foreign War,  
Ent'ring the Town in Triumph for it,  
Bore a Slave with him, in his Chariot:  
So this insulting Female Brave  
Carries behind her here, a Slave,  
And as the Ancients long ago,  
When they in field defied the foe,  
Hung out their Mantles della Guer;  
So her proud Standard-bearer here,  
Waves, on his Spear, in dreadful manner,  
A Tyrian-Petticoat for a Banner:  
Next Links, and Torches, heretofore  
Still born before the Emperor:  
And as in Antique Triumphs, Eggs  
Were born for mystical intrigues;  
There's one in Truncheon, like a Ladle,  
That carries Eggs too, fresh or addle;  
And still at random, as he goes,  
Among the Rabble-rout bestows.  
Quoth Ralpho, You mistake the matter;  
For, all th' Antiquity you smatter,  
Is but a Riding, used of course,  
When the Grey Mares the better Horse.  
When o'er the Breeches greedy Women  
Fight, to extend their vast Dominion,  
And in the cause impatient Grizel  
Has drubbed her Husband with Bulls-Pizle,  
And brought him under Covert-Baron,  
To turn her Vassal with a Murrain;  
When Wives their Sex's shift, like Hares  
And ride their Husbands, like Night-Mares,  
And they in mortal Battle vanquished,  
Are of their Charter dis-enfranchised,  
And by the right of War, like gills,  
Condemn, to Distaff, Horns, and Wheels;  
For when men by their Wives are Cowed,  
Their Horns of course are understood,  
Quoth Hudibras, Thou still giv'st sentence  
impertinently, and against sense.  
'tis not the least disparagement,  
To be defeated by th' event:  
Not to be beaten by main force,  
That does not make a man the worse,  
Although his shoulders, with Batoon,  
Be clawed and cudgelled to some tune;  
A Tailor's Apprentice has no hard  
Measure, that's banged with a true yard:  
But to turn Tail, or run away,  
And without blows give up the Day;  
Or to surrender ere the Assault,  
That's no man's fortune, but his fault:  
And renders men of Honour less  
Than all th' Adversity of Success,  
And only unto such this Show  
Of Horns, and Petticoats, is due.  
There is a lesser Profanation,  
Like that the Romans called Ovation.  
For as Ovation was allowed  
For Conquest, purchased without blood,  
So men decree those lesser Shows,  
For victory gotten without blows.  
By dint of sharp hard words, which some  
Give Battle with, and overcome;  
These mounted in a Chair Curule,  
Which Moderns call a Cucking-stool,  
March proudly to the River's side,  
And o'er the Waves in Triumph ride.  
Like Dukes of Venice, who are said  
The Adriatic Sea to wed,  
And have a gentler Wife, than those,  
For whom the State decrees those Shows.  
But both are Heathenish and come  
From th' Whores of Babylon and Rome,  
And by the Saints should be withstood,  
As Antichristian and Lewd,  
And we, as such, should now contribute  
Our utmost struggle to prohibit.  
This said, they both advanced, and rod,  
A Dog-trot through the bawling Crowd,  
T' attack the Leader, and still pressed,  
Till they approached him breast to breast.  
Then Hudibras, with face and hand,  
Made signs for Silence, which obtained:  
What means (quoth he) this devils Procession  
With men of Orthodox profession?  
'Tis Ethnique and Idolatrous,  
From Heathenism derived to us.  
Does not the Whore of Babylon ride  
Upon her Horned Beast astride,  
Like this proud Dame, who either is  
A Type of her, or she of this?  
Are things of Superstitious function,  
Fit to be used in Gospel Sunshine?  
It is an Antichristian Opera,  
Much used in midnight times of Popery;  
A running after self-inventions  
Of wicked and profane Intentions;  
To scandalise that Sex, for scolding,  
To whom the Saints are so beholding,  
Women, who were our first Apostles,  
Without whose aid w' had all been lost else;  
Women, that left no stone unturned,  
In which the Cause might be concerned:  
Brought in their children's Spoons and Whistles,  
To purchase Swords, Carbines, and Pistols:  
Their Husbands, Cullies, and Sweethearts,  
To take the Saints and Churches parts;  
Drew several gifted Brethren in,  
That for the Bishops would have been,  
And fixed them constant to the Party,  
With motives powerful and hearty:  
Their Husbands robbed, and made hard shifts  
T' administer unto their Gifts;  
All they could rap, and run and pilfer,  
To scraps, and ends of Gold and Silver;  
Rubbed down the Teachers, tired and spent,  
With holding forth for Parliament;  
Pampered and edified their Zeal  
With Marrow-puddings many a Meal;  
Enabled them, with store of meat,  
On controverted Points to eat;  
And crammed them till their guts did ache,  
With Caudle, Custard, and Plum-cake.  
What have they done, or what left undone,  
That might advance the Cause at London?  
Marched rank and file, with Drum and Ensign,  
T' entrench the City, for defence, in;  
Raised Rampires with their own soft hands,  
To put the Enemy to stands;  
From Ladies down to Oyster-Wenches,  
Laboured like Pioners in Trenches,  
Fell to their Pick-Axes and Tools,  
And helped the men to dig like Moles?  
Have not the Handmaids of the City,  
Chosen o' their Members a Committee?  
For raising of a Common-Purse,  
Out of their Wages, to raise Horse?  
And do they not as Triers sit,  
To judge what Officers are fit?  
Have they—? At that at an Egg, let fly,  
Hit him directly o'er the eye,  
And running down his Cheek, besmeared,  
With Orange-tawny-slime, his Beard:  
But Beard, and slime being of one Hue,  
The wound the less appeared in view.  
Then he that on the Panniers road,  
Let fly o' th' other side a load;  
And quickly charged again, gave fully  
In Ralpho's face, another Volley.  
The Knight was startled with the smell,  
And for his Sword began to feel:  
And Ralpho smothered with the stink,  
Grasped his: when one that bore a Link,  
O' th' sudden, clapped his flaming Cudgel,  
Like Linstock, to the Horse's touchhole;  
And straight another with his Flambeaux,  
Gave Ralpho's, o'er the eyes, a damned blow.  
The Beasts began to kick, and fling,  
And forced the Rout to make a Ring.  
Through which they quickly broke their way,  
And brought them off from further fray;  
And though disordered in Retreat,  
Each of them stoutly kept his seat:  
For quitting both their Swords and Rains,  
They grasped with all their strength the manes;  
And to avoid the foes pursuit,  
With spurring put their Cattle to't,  
And till all four were out of wind,  
And danger too, ne'er looked behind.  
After th' had paused a while, supplying  
Their spirits spent with fight and flying,  
And Hudibras recruited force,  
Of Lungs, for action or discourse:  
Quoth he, that man is sure to lose,  
That fouls his hands with dirty foes:  
For where no honour's to be gained,  
'tis thrown away in being maintained,  
'Twas ill for us we had to do  
With so dishonourable a Foe:  
For though the Law of Arms does bar  
The use of venomed shot in War,  
Yet by the nauseous smell, and noisome,  
Their Case-shot favours strong of poison;  
And doubtless have been chewed with teeth  
Of some that had a stinking breath:  
Else when we put it to the push,  
They had not given us such a brush.  
But as those Pultroons that fling dirt,  
Do but defile, but cannot hurt;  
So all the Honour they have won,  
Or we have lost, is much at one.  
'Twas well we made so resolute  
A brave Retreat, without pursuit;  
For if we had not, we had sped  
Much worse, to be in Triumph led;  
Than which, the Ancients held no state,  
Of Man's life more unfortunate.  
But if this bold Adventure e'er  
Do chance to reach the Widow's ear,  
It may, b'ing destined to assert  
Her Sex's Honour, reach her heart.  
And as such homely Treats (they say)  
Portend good Fortune, so this may.  
Vespasian being daubed with dirt,  
Was destined to the Empire for't:  
And from a Scavinger did come  
To be a mighty Prince in Rome:  
And why may not this foul Address  
Presage in Love the same success?  
Then let us straight to cleanse our wounds,  
Advance in quest of nearest Ponds;  
And after (as we first designed)  
Swear I've performed what she enjoined.    

CANTO III.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
The Knight with various doubts possessed  
To win the Lady, goes in Quest  
Of Sidrophel the Rosy-crucian,  
To know the Destiny's Resolution;  
With whom being met, they both chop Logic  
About the Science Astrologick.  
Till falling from Dispute, to Fight,  
The Conjurer's worsted by the Knight.  

DOubtless the pleasure is as great  
Of being cheated, as to cheat.  
As lookers-on feel most delight,  
That least perceive a Juggler's slight;  
And still the less they understand,  
The more th' admire his slight of hand.  
Some with a noise, and greasy light,  
Are snapped, as men catch Larks by night;  
Ensnared and hampered by the Soul,  
As Noozes by the legs catch Foul.  
Some with a Medicine, and Receipt,  
Are drawn to nibble at the Bait;  
And though it be a two-foot Trout,  
'Tis with a single hair pulled out.  
Others believe no Voice t' an Organ;  
So sweet as Lawyer in his Bar-gown.  
Until, with subtle Cobweb-cheats,  
Th' are catched in knotted Law, like Nets:  
In which, when once they are imbrangled,  
The more they stir, the more th're tangled;  
And while their Purses can dispute,  
There's no end of th' immortal Suit.  
Others still gape t' anticipate  
The Cabinet designs of Fate,  
Apply to Wizards to foresee  
What shall, and what shall never be:  
And as those Praetors do foreboad,  
Believe Events prove bad, or good.  
A flame more senseless than the Roguery  
Of old Auruspicy and Augury.  
That out of Garbages of Cattle,  
Presaged th' events of Truce, or Battle;  
From flight of Birds, or Chickens pecking,  
Success of great'st attempts would reckon,  
Though Cheats, yet more intelligible,  
Than those that with the Stars do fribble.  
This Hudibras by proof found true,  
As in due time and place we'll show.  
For He, with Beard and Face made clean,  
Being mounted on his Steed again,  
(And Ralpho got a Cockhorse too  
Upon his Beast, with much ado)  
Advanced on for the Widow's house,  
T' acquit himself and pay his Vows;  
When various thoughts began to bustle,  
And with his inward man to justle.  
He thought what danger might accrue,  
If she should find he swore untrue:  
Or, if his Squire, or he should fail,  
And not be punctual in their Tale;  
It might at once the ruin prove  
Both of his Honour, Faith, and Love.  
But if he should forbear to go,  
She might conclude h'had broke his Vow;  
And that he durst not now for shame  
Appear in Court to try his Claim.  
This was the pennyworth of his thought,  
To pass time, and uneasy trot.  
Quoth he, in all my past Adventures,  
I ne'er was set so on the Tenters,  
Or taken tardy with Dilemma,  
That, every way I turn, does him me;  
And with inextricable doubt,  
Besets my puzzled Wits about:  
For though the Dame has been my Bail,  
To free me from enchanted Jail:  
Yet as a Dog committed close  
For some offence, by chance breaks loose,  
And quits his Clog; but all in vain,  
He still draws after him his Chain.  
So though my Ankle she has quitted,  
My Heart continues still committed.  
And like a Bailed and Mainprized Lover,  
Although at large, I am bound over.  
And when I shall appear in Court,  
To plead my Cause, and answer for't  
Unless the Judge do partial prove,  
What will become of Me and Love?  
For, if in our account we vary,  
Or but in Circumstance miscarry,  
Or if she put me to strict proof,  
And make me pull my Doublet off,  
To show by evident Record,  
Writ on my skin, I've kept my word:  
How can I e'er expect to have her,  
Having demurred unto her favour?  
But Faith, and Love, and Honour lost,  
Shall be reduced t' a Knight o' th' Post:  
Beside, that Stripping may prevent  
What I'm to prove by Argument;  
And justify I have a Tail,  
And that way too, my proof may fail.  
Or that I could enucleate,  
And solve the Problems of my Fate;  
Or find by Necromantic Art,  
How far the Destinies take my part;  
For if I were not more than certain,  
To win, and wear her, and her Fortune,  
I'd go no farther in this Courtship,  
To hazard Soul, Estate, and Worship.  
For though an Oath obliges not,  
Where any thing is to be got,  
(As thou hast proved,) yet 'tis profane  
And sinful, when men swear in vain.  
Quoth Ralph, Not far from hence doth dwell  
A cunning man, height Sidrophel,  
That deals in Destinies dark Counsels,  
And sage Opinions of the Moon sells;  
To whom all People far and near,  
On deep importances repair.  
When Brass and Pewter hap to stray,  
And Linen slinkt out of the way;  
When Geese and Pullen are seduced,  
And Sows of sucking Pigs are chewsed;  
When Cattle feel Indisposition,  
And need th' opinion of Physician;  
When Murrain reigns in Hogs, or Sheep,  
And Chickens languish of the Pip;  
When Yeast, and outward means do fail,  
And have no power to work on Ale;  
When Butter does refuse to come,  
And Love proves cross and humoursome:  
To him with Questions, and with Urine,  
They for discovery flock, or Curing.  
Quoth Hudibras, This Sidrophel  
I've heard of, and should like it well,  
If thou canst prove the Saints, have freedom,  
To go to Sorc'rers when they need 'em.  
Says Ralpho, There's no doubt of that:  
Those Principles I quoted late,  
Prove that the Godly may allege  
For any thing their Privilege;  
And to the devil himself may go,  
If they have motives thereunto.  
For as there is a War between  
The devil and them, it is no Sin,  
If they, by subtle Stratagem,  
Make use of him, as he does them.  
Has not this present Parliament  
A Legar to the Devil sent,  
Fully empowered to Treat about  
Finding revolted Witches out:  
And has not he, within a year,  
Hanged Threescore of them in one Shire?  
Some only for not being drowned,  
And some for sitting above ground,  
Whole days and Nights upon their breeches,  
And feeling pain, were hanged for Witches.  
And some for putting Knavish tricks  
Upon Green-geeses, and Turkey Chicks,  
Or Pigs, that suddenly deceased,  
Of griefs unnatural, as he guest;  
Who after proved himself a Witch,  
And made a Rod for his own breech.  
Did not the devil appear to Martin  
Luther, in Germany, for certain;  
And would have gulled him with a Trick,  
But Mart. was too too Politic?  
Did he not help the Dutch to purge,  
At Antwerp, their Cathedral Church?  
Sing catches to the Saints at Mascon,  
And tell them all they came to ask him?  
Appear in divers shapes to Kelly?  
And speak i' th' Nun at London's Belly?  
Meet with the Parliament's Committee  
At Woodstock, on a Pars'nal Treaty?  
At Sarum take a Cavalier  
I' th' Cause's service, Prisoner?  
As Withers in immortal Rhyme  
Has registered to aftertime?  
Do not our great Reformers use  
This Sidrophel to foreboad News?  
To write of Victories next Year,  
And Castles taken yet i' th' Air;  
Of Battles fought at Sea, and Ships  
Sunk, two Years hence, the last Eclipse?  
A Total Overthrow given the King  
In Cornwall, Horse, and Foot, next Spring?  
And has not he point-blank foretold  
Whats'er the close Committee would?  
Made Mars and Saturn for the Cause,  
The Moon for Fundamental Laws?  
The Ram, and Bull, and Goat declare  
Against the Book of Common Prayer?  
The Scorpion take the Protestation,  
And Bear engage for Reformation?  
Made all the Royal Stars recant,  
Compound, and take the Covenant.  
Quoth Hudibras, The case is clear,  
The Saints may employ a Conjurer,  
As thou hast proved it by their practice,  
No Argument like matter of Fact is:  
And we are best of all led to  
men's Principles by what they do.  
Then let us straight advance in quest  
Of this profound Gymnosophist:  
And as the Fates, and He advise,  
Pursue, or wave this Enterprise.  
This said, he turned about his Steed,  
And estsoons on th' adventure rid,  
Where, leave we Him and Ralph a while,  
And to the Conj'rer turn our stile:  
To let our Reader understand  
What's useful of him, before hand,  
He had been long towards Mathematics,  
Optics, Philosophy, and Staticks,  
Magic, Horoscopy, Astrology,  
And was old Dog at Physiology;  
But, as a Dog that turns the spit,  
Bestirs himself, and plies his feet,  
To climb the Wheel; but all in vain,  
His own weight brings him down again:  
And still he's in the selfsame place,  
Where at his setting out he was.  
So in the Circle of the Arts,  
Did he advance his natural Parts;  
Till falling back still, for retreat,  
He fell to Juggle, Cant, and Cheat;  
For as those Fowls that live in Water  
Are never wet, he did but smatter;  
Whate'er he laboured to appear,  
His Understanding still was clear.  
Yet none a deeper knowledge boasted,  
Since old Hodge Bacon, and Bod Grosted,  
Th' Intelligible World he knew,  
And all men, dream on't, to be true:  
That in this World, there's not a Wart,  
That has not there a Counterpart;  
Nor can there on the face of Ground,  
An Individual Beard be found,  
That has not, in that foreign Nation,  
A Fellow of the selfsame fashion;  
So cut, so coloured, and so curled,  
As those are, in th' Inferior World,  
H'had read Dee's Prefaces before  
The devil, and Euclid over and over.  
And all th' Intrigues, 'twixt him and Kelly,  
Lescus, and th' Emperor, would not tell ye.  
But with the Moon was more familiar  
Than e'er was Almanac well-willer.  
Her secrets understood so clear,  
That some believed he had been there.  
Knew when he was in fittest mood,  
For cutting Corns, or letting blood:  
When for anointing Scabs and Itches,  
Or to the Bum applying Leeches;  
When Sows and Bitch's may be spade,  
And in what Sign best Sider's made,  
Whether the Wane be, or Increase,  
Best to set Garlic, or sow Pease.  
Who first found out the Man i'th' Moon,  
That to the Ancients was unknown;  
How many Dukes, and Earls, and Peers,  
Are in the Planetary Spheres,  
Their Airy Empire: and command  
Their several strengths by Sea and Land;  
What factions th' have, and what they drive at  
In public Vogue, and what in private;  
With what Designs and Interests,  
Each Party manages Contests,  
He made an Instrument to know  
If the Moon shine at Full or no,  
That would as soon as e'er she shone, straight  
Whether 'twere Day or Night demonstrate;  
Tell what her D'ameter t' an Inch is,  
And prove she is not made of Green-Cheese:  
It would demonstrate, that the Man in  
The Moon's a Sea Mediterranean.  
And that it is no Dog, nor Bitch,  
That stands behind him at his breech;  
But a huge Caspian Sea, or Lake  
With Arms which Men for Legs mistake,  
How large a Gulf his Tail composes,  
And what a goodly Bay his Nose is;  
How many Germane Leagues by th' scale,  
Cape-Snout's from Promontory-Tayl:  
He made a Planetary Gin,  
Which Rats would run their own heads in,  
And come o' purpose to be taken,  
Without th' expense of Cheese or Bacon;  
With Lute-strings he would counterfeit  
Maggots, that crawl on dish of meat,  
Quote Moles and Spots, on any place  
O' th' body, by the Index-face:  
Detect lost Maidenheads, by sneezing,  
Or breaking wind of Dames, or pissing.  
Cure Warts and Corns, with application  
Of Medicines, to th' Imagination.  
Fright Agues into Dogs, and scare  
With Rhymes the Toothache and Catarrh.  
Chase evil spirits away by dint  
Of Sickle Horseshooe, Hollow-flint.  
Spit fire out of a Walnut-shell,  
Which made the Roman Slaves rebel.  
And fire a Mine in China, here,  
With Sympathetick Gunpowder.  
He knew whats'ever's to be known,  
But much more than he knew, would own.  
What Medicine 'twas that Paracelsus  
Could make a man with, as he tells us.  
What figured Slats are best to make,  
On wat'ry surface, Duck or Drake.  
What Bowling-stones, in running race  
Upon a Board, have swiftest pace.  
Whether a Pulse beat in the black  
List of a Dappled Louse's back.  
If Systole or Diastole move  
Quickest, when he's in wrath, or love:  
When two of them do run a race,  
Whether they Gallop, Trot, or Pace,  
How many scores a Flea will jump,  
Of his own length, from Head to Rump;  
Which Socrates, and Chaerephon  
In vain, essayed so long agone;  
Whether his Snout a perfect Nose is,  
And not an Elephant's Proboscis,  
How many different Specieses  
Of Maggots breed in rotten Cheese,  
And which are next of kin to those  
Engendered in a Chandler's Nose.  
Or those not seen, but understood,  
That live in Vinegar and Wood;  
A paltry Wretch, he had, half-starved,  
That him in place of Zany served;  
Height Whachum, bred to dash and draw,  
Not Wine, but more unwholesome Law:  
To make 'twixt words and lines, huge gaps,  
Wide as Meridian's in Maps.  
To squander Paper, and spare Ink,  
Or cheat men of their words, some think;  
From this, by merited degrees,  
He to more high Advancement rise:  
To be an Under- Conjurer,  
Or Journy-man ginger:  
His business was to pump and wheedle,  
And Men with their own keys unriddle.  
To make them to themselves give answers,  
For which they pay the Necromancers.  
To fetch and carry Intelligence,  
Of whom, and what, and where, and whence,  
And all Discoveries disperse,  
Among th' whole pack of Conjurers;  
What Cutpurses have left with them,  
For the right owners to redeem;  
And, what they dare not vend, find out,  
To gain themselves, and th' Art, repute.  
Draw Figures, Schemes, and Horoscopes,  
Of Newgate, Bridewell, Brokers Shops.  
Of Thiefs ascendent in the Cart,  
And find out all by rules of Art.  
Which way a Servingman that's run  
With clothes or Money away, is gone:  
Who picked a Fob, at Holding-forth,  
And where a Watch, for half the worth,  
May be redeemed; or Stolen Plate  
Restored, at Conscionable rate.  
Beside all this, he served his Master  
In quality of Poetaster:  
And Rhymes appropriate could make,  
To every month i' th' Almanac.  
When Terms begin, and end, could tell,  
With their Returns, in Doggerel.  
When the Exchequer opes and shuts,  
And Sowgelder, with safety cuts.  
When Men may Eat and Drink their fill,  
And when be temperate if they will.  
When use, and when abstain from Vice,  
Figs, Grapes, Phlebotomy, and Spice.  
And as in Prisons, mean Rogues beat  
Hemp, for the service of the Great;  
So Whachum beat his dirty brains,  
T' advance his Master's Fame and Gains;  
And like the Devil's Oracles,  
Put into Dogrel-Rimes his Spells,  
Which over every Month's blank-page  
I' th' Almanac, strange Bilks presage.  
He would an Elegy compose  
On Maggots squeezed out of his Nose;  
In Lyric numbers write an Ode on  
His Mistress, eating a Black-pudden:  
And when imprisoned Air escaped her,  
It puffed him with Poetic Rapture:  
His Sonnets charmed th' attentive Crowd,  
By wide-mouthed Mortal trouled aloud;  
That, circled with his long-eared Guests,  
Like Orpheus looked, among the Beasts,  
A Carman's Horse could not pass by,  
But stood tied up to Poetry,  
No Porter's Burden passed along,  
But served for Burden to his Song.  
Each Window, like a Pill'ry appears,  
With heads thrust through, nailed by the Ears:  
All Trades run in as to the sight  
Of Monsters, or their dear delight;  
The Gallow-Tree, when cutting Purse,  
Breeds business for Heroic Verse,  
Which none does hear, but would have hung  
I've been the Theme of such a Song.  
Those two together long had lived,  
●n Mansion prudently contrived;  
Where neither Tree, nor House could bar  
The free detection of a Star;  
And nigh an Ancient Obelisk  
Was raised by him, found out by Fisk,  
On which was written, not in words,  
But Hieroglyphic Mute of Birds,  
Many rare pithy Saws concerning  
The worth of Astrologick Learning:  
From top of this there hung a Rope,  
To which he fastened Telescope;  
The Spectacles, with which the Stars  
He reads in smallest Characters.  
It happened as a Boy, one night,  
Did fly his Tarsel of a Kite,  
The strangest long-winged Hawk that flies,  
That like a Bird of Paradise.  
Or Herald's Martlet, has no legs,  
Nor hatches young ones, nor lay Eggs;  
His Train was six yards long, milk-white,  
At th' end of which there hung a Light,  
Enclosed in Lantern made of Paper,  
That far off like a Star did appear.  
This Sidrophel by chance espied,  
And with Amazement staring wide,  
Bless us, quoth he, What dreadful wonder  
Is that, appears in Heaven yonder?  
A Comet, and without a Beard?  
Or Star, that ne'er before appeared;  
I'm certain, 'tis not in the Scroll,  
Of all those Beasts, and Fish and Fowl,  
With which, like Indian Plantations,  
The Learned stock the Constellations:  
Nor those that drawn from Signs have been,  
To th' Houses where the Planets Inn.  
●t must be supernatural,  
Uuless it be that Cannon-Ball,  
That, shot in th' Air, point-blank, upright,  
Was born to that prodigious height,  
That learned Philosophers maintain,  
It ne'er came backwards, down again;  
But in the Aery Region yet,  
Hangs like the Body o' Mahomet.  
For if it be above the Shade,  
That by the Earth's round bulk is made,  
'Tis probable, it may, from far,  
Appear no Bullet but a Star.  
This said, He to his Engine flew,  
Placed near at hand, in open view,  
And raised it, till it levelled right  
Against the Glow-worm Tail of Kite.  
Then peeping through, (bless us quoth he)  
It is a Planet now I see;  
And if I err not, by this proper  
Figure, that's like Tobacco-stopper,  
It should be Saturn: yes, 'tis clear  
'Tis Saturn, But what makes him there?  
He's got between the Dragon's Tail,  
And farther Leg behind, o'th' Whale;  
Pray Heaven, divert the fatal Omen,  
For 'tis a Prodigy not common,  
And can no less than the World's end,  
Of Nature's funeral portend.  
With that he fell again to pry  
Through Perspective more wistfully,  
When by mischance, the fatal string  
That kept the Towering Fowl on wing,  
Breaking, down fell the Star: Well shot,  
Quoth Whachum, who right wisely thought  
H'had levelled at a Star, and hit it:  
But Sidrophel more subtle-witted,  
Cried out, What horrible and fearful,  
Portent is this, to see a Star fall?  
It threatens Nature, and the doom  
Will not be long before it come.  
When Stars do fall, 'tis plain enough,  
The Judgement's not far off:  
As lately 'twas revealed to Sedgwick.  
And some of us find out by Magic.  
Then, since the time we have to live,  
In this world's shortened, Let us strive,  
To make our best advantage of it,  
And pay our losses with our profit.  
This feat fell out, not long before  
The Knight upon the forenamed score,  
In quest of Sidrophel advancing,  
Was now in prospect of the Mansion:  
Whom he discovering, turned his Glass,  
And found far off, 'twas Hudibrass.  
Whachum (quoth he) look yonder; some  
To try, or use our Art, are come:  
The one's the Learned Knight; seek out,  
And pump'em, what they come about.  
Whachum advanced with all submissness,  
T' accost 'em, but much more, their business.  
He held the Stirrup, while the Knight,  
From Leathern Bare-Bones did alight,  
And taking from his hand, the Bridle,  
Approached the dark Squire to unriddle.  
He gave him first the time o'th' day,  
And welcomed him, as he might say:  
He asked them whence they came, and whither  
Their business lay? Quoth Ralpho, hither;  
Did you not lose— Quoth Ralpho, Nay;  
Quoth Whachum, Sir, I meant your way;  
Your Knight— Quoth Ralpho, is a Lover,  
And pains intolerable doth suffer,  
For Lovers Hearts are not their own Hearts,  
Nor Lights nor Lungs, and so forth downwards;  
What time— Quoth Ralpho, Sir too long,  
Three years it off and on, has hung—  
Quoth he, I meant what time o' th' day ' 'tis.  
Quoth Ralpho, between seven and eight ' 'tis.  
Why then (quoth Whachum) my small Art  
Tells me, the Dame has a hard Heart,  
Or great Estate— Quoth Ralph, a Jointure,  
Which makes him have so hot a mind t' her.  
Mean while the Knight was making water,  
Before he fell upon the matter;  
Which having done, the Wizard steps in,  
To give him a suitable Reception;  
But kept his business at a Bay,  
Till Whachum put him in the way.  
Who having now by Ralpho's light,  
Expounded th' Errand of the Knight,  
And what he came to know, drew near,  
To whisper in the Conj'rers ear.  
Which he prevented thus: What was't,  
Quoth he, that I was saying last,  
Before these Gentlemen arrived?  
Quoth Whachum, Venus you retrieved,  
In opposition with Mars,  
And no benign friendly Stars  
T' allay th' effect. Quoth Wizard, So!  
In Virgo? Ha! quoth Whachum, No.  
Has Saturn nothing to do in't?  
One tenth of's Circle to a minute.  
'Tis well, quoth he— Sir you'll excuse  
This rudeness, I am forced to use,  
It is a Scheme, and face of Heaven  
As the Aspects are disposed, this Even,  
I was contemplating upon,  
When you arrived: but now I've done.  
Quoth Hudibras, If I appear  
Unseasonable in coming here  
At such a time, to interrupt  
Your Speculations, which I hoped  
Assistance from, and come to use,  
'Tis fit that I ask your excuse.  
By no means, Sir, Quoth Sidrophel,  
The Stars your coming did foretell:  
I did expect you here, and know,  
Before you speak your business too.  
Quoth Hudibras, Make that appear,  
And I shall credit whatsoe'er  
You tell me after on your word,  
Howe'er unlikely, or absurd.  
You are in Love, Sir, with a Widow,  
Quoth he, that does not greatly heed you;  
And three years has rid your Wit  
And Passion without drawing Bit:  
And now your business is, to know  
If you shall carry her, or no.  
Quoth Hudibras, you're in the right,  
But how the Devil you come by't,  
I can't imagine; for the Stars  
I'm sure, can tell no more than a Horse,  
Nor can their Aspects (though you poor  
Your Eyes out on 'em) tell you more  
Than the Oracle of Sieve and Sheers,  
That turns as certain as the Spheres;  
But if the Devil's of your Counsel,  
Much may be done, my noble Donzel,  
And 'tis on this account I come,  
To know from you my fatal Doom.  
Quoth Sidrophel, If you suppose,  
Sir Knight, that I am one of those,  
I might suspect and take the Alarm,  
Your business is but to inform:  
But if it be, 'tis never the near,  
You have a wrong sow by the Ear,  
For I assure you, for my part,  
I only deal by Rules of Art,  
Such as are lawful, and judge by  
Conclusions of Astrology:  
But for the Devil, know nothing by him,  
But only this, that I defy him.  
Quoth he, Whatever others deem ye  
I understand your Metonymy;  
Your words of second hand intention,  
When things by wrongful names you mention;  
The Mystic sense of all your Terms,  
That are indeed but Magic Charms,  
To raise the Devil, and mean one thing,  
And that is, downright Conjuring:  
And in its self more warrantable,  
Than Cheat, or Canting to a Rabble,  
Or putting Tricks upon the Moon,  
Which by confederacy are done.  
Your Ancient Conjurers were wont  
To make her from her Sphere dismount,  
And to their Incantations stoop,  
They scorned to poor through Telescope,  
Or idly play at bopeep with her,  
To find out cloudy, or fair weather,  
Which every Almanac can tell,  
Perhaps, as learnedly, and well,  
As you yourself— Then friend I doubt  
You go the farthest way about.  
Your Modern Indian Magician  
Makes but a hole i'th' Earth to piss in,  
And strait resolves all Questions by't,  
And seldom fails to be i'th' right.  
The Rosy-crucian way's more sure,  
To bring the Devil to the Lure;  
Each of 'em has a several Gin,  
To catch Intelligences in.  
Some by the Nose with fumes trappan 'em,  
As Dunstan did the Devil's Grannum.  
Others with Characters and Words,  
Catch'em as Men in Nets do Birds.  
And some with Symbols, Signs and Tricks,  
Engarved in Planetary Nicks,  
With their own influences, will fetch 'em,  
Down from their Orbs, arrest and catch'em;  
Make'em depose, and answer to  
All Questions e'er they let him go.  
Devil's Bird  
Shut in the Pummel of his Sword,  
That taught him all the cunning Pranks,  
Of past and future Mountebanks.  
Kelly did all his Feats upon  
The Devil 's Looking-Glass, a Stone,  
Where playing with him at Bopeep,  
He solved all Problems ne'er so deep.  
Agrippa kept a Stygian-pug,  
I' th' garb and habit of a Dog,  
That was his Tutor; and the Cur  
Read to th' occult Philosopher,  
And taught him subtly to maintain  
All other Sciences are vain.  
To this, quoth Sidrophello, Sir,  
Agrippa was no Conjurer,  
Nor Paracelsus, no nor Behman;  
Nor was the Dog a Cacodoemon,  
But a true Dog, that would show tricks  
For th' Emperor, and leap o'er sticks;  
Would fetch and carry, was more civil,  
Than other Dogs, but yet no Devil;  
And whatsoe'er he's said to do,  
He went the selfsame way we go.  
As for the Rosie-cross Philosophers,  
Whom you will have to be but Sorcerers;  
What they pretend to, is no more,  
Than Trismegistus did before,  
Pythagoras, old Zoroaster,  
And Appollonius their Master;  
To whom they do confess I owe,  
All that they do, and all they know.  
Quoth Hudibras, Alas what is't to us,  
Whether 'twere said by Trismegistus:  
If it be nonsense, false, or mystic,  
Or not intelligible, or sophistick.  
'Tis not Antiquity, nor Author,  
That makes truth truth, although time's daughter;  
'Twas he that put her in the Pit,  
Before he pulled her out of it.  
And as he eats his Sons, just so  
He feeds upon his Daughters too.  
Nor does it follow, cause a Herald  
Can make a Gentleman scarce a year old,  
To be descended of a Race,  
Of ancient Kings in a small space;  
That we should all Opinion hold  
Authentic, that we can make old.  
Quoth Sidrophel, It is no part  
Of prudence, to cry down an Art;  
And what it may perform, deny  
Because you understand not why.  
(As Averrhois played but mean trick,  
To damn our whole Art for Eccentric)  
For who knows all that knowledge contains?  
Men dwell not on the Tops of Mountains,  
But on their sides, or rising's seat;  
So 'tis with knowledge's vast height,  
Do not the Hist'ries of all Ages  
Relate miraculous presages,  
Of strange turns in the World's affairs,  
foreseen b' Astrologers, Soothsayers,  
chaldeans, Learned Genethliacks,  
And some that have writ Almanacs?  
The Median Emperor dreamt his Daughter,  
Had pissed all Asia under water,  
And that a Vine, sprung from her haunches,  
Overspread his Empire, with its branches;  
And did not Soothsayers expound it,  
As after by th' event he found it?  
When Caesar in the Senate fell,  
Did not the Sun eclipsed foretell,  
And in resentment of his slaughter,  
Looked pale for almost a year after?  
Augustus' having, be oversight,  
Put on his left Shoe, 'fore his right,  
Had like to have been Slain that day,  
By Soldiers mutining for pay.  
Are there not myriads of this sort,  
Which Stories of all times report?  
Is it not ominous in all Country's,  
When Crows and Ravens croak upon Trees?  
The Roman Senate, when within  
The City-walls an Owl was seen;  
Did cause their Clergy with Lustrations;  
(Our Synod calls Humiliations,)  
The round-faced Prodigy t' avert  
From doing Town or Country hurt.  
And if an Owl have so much power,  
Why should not Planets have much more?  
That in a Region, far above  
Inferior Fowls o' th' Air, move,  
And should see farther, and foreknow,  
More than their Augury below:  
Though that once served the Polity  
Of mighty States to govern by;  
And this is that we take in hand,  
By powerful Art to understand.  
Which, how we have performed, all Ages  
Can speak th' Events of our presages,  
Have we not lately in the Moon  
Found a new World to th' Old unknown?  
Discovered Sea and Land, Columbus  
And Magell●n could never compass?  
Made Mountains with our Tubes appear,  
And Cattle gazing on 'em there?  
Quoth Hudibrass, You lie so open,  
That I, without a Telescope,  
Can find your tricks out, and descry  
Where you tell truth, and where you lie.  
For Anaxagoras long agone,  
Saw Hills, as well as you i' th' Moon;  
And held the Sun was but a piece  
Of Red-hot-Ir'n as big as Greece;  
Believed the Heavens were made of Stone,  
Because the Sun had voided one;  
And rather than he would recant  
Th' Opinion, suffered Banishment▪  
But what, alas, what is't to us,  
Whether i'th' Moon, men thus or thus,  
Do eat their Porridge, cut their Corns,  
Or whether they have Tails or Horns?  
What Trade from thence can you advance  
But what we nearer have from France?  
What can our Travellers bring home,  
That is not to be learned at Rome?  
What Politics, or strange Opinions,  
That are not in our own Dominions?  
What Science can be brought from thence,  
In which we do not here Commence?  
What Revelations, or Religions,  
That are not in our Native Regions?  
Are sweeting Lanterns, or Screen-Fans  
Made better there, than theyare in France?  
Or do they teach to sing and play  
O' th' Guitar there a newer way?  
Can they make Plays there, that shall fit  
The Public Humour with less Wit?  
Write wittier Dances, quainter Shows,  
Or fight with more ingenious Blows?  
Or does the Man i'th' Moon look big,  
And wear a huger Periwig,  
Show in his Gate, or Face, more tricks  
Than our own Native Lunatics?  
But if w' outdo him here at home,  
What good of your design can come?  
As wind i' th' Hypochondrias penned  
Is but a blast if downward sent;  
But if it upwards chance to fly,  
Becomes new Light and Prophecy:  
So when our Speculations tend,  
Above their just and useful end,  
Although they promise strange and great,  
Discoveries of things far fet,  
They are but idle Dreams and Fancies,  
And savour strongly of the Ganzas,  
Tell me but what's the natural cause,  
Why on a Sign no Painter draws  
The Full-Moon ever, but the Half,  
Resolve that with your Jacobs-staff;  
Or why Wolves raise a Hubbub at her,  
And Dogs howl when she shines in water;  
And I shall freely give my Vote,  
You may know something more remote.  
At this deep Sidrophel looked wise,  
And staring round with Owl-like Eyes,  
He put his face into a posture  
Of Sapience, and began to bluster;  
For having three times shook his head  
To stir his wit up, thus he said.  
Art has no mortal Enemies  
Next Ignorance, but Owls and Geese;  
Those Consecrated Geese in Orders,  
That to the Capitol were Warders:  
And being then upon Petrol,  
With noise alone beat of the Gaul.  
Or those Athenian Sceptic Owls,  
That will not credit their own Souls;  
Or any Science understand,  
Beyond the reach of Eye, or Hand:  
But measuring all things by their own  
Knowledge, hold, Nothing's too be known.  
Those wholesale Critics, that in Coffeehouses,  
cry down all Philosophy.  
And will not know, upon what ground  
In Nature, we our doctrine found;  
Although with pregnant evidence,  
We can demonstrate it to sense.  
As I just now have done to you,  
Foretelling what you came to know,  
Were the Stars only made to light  
Robbers and Burglaries by night?  
To wait on Drunkards, Thiefs, Gold-finders,  
And Lovers solacing behind Doors?  
Or giving one another Pledges?  
Of Mrtrimony under Hedges?  
Or Witches Simpling, and on Gibbets  
Cutting from Malefactor's snippets?  
Or from the Pillory tips of Ears  
Of Rebel-Saints, and Perjurers?  
Only to stand by and look on,  
But not know what is said or done?  
Is there a Constellation there,  
That was not born and bred up here?  
And therefore cannot be to learn,  
In any inferior Concern.  
Were they not, during all their lives,  
Most of'm Pirates, Whores, and Thiefs?  
And is it like they have not still  
In their old Practices some skill?  
Is there a Planet that by Birth  
Does not derive its House from Earth?  
And therefore probably must know  
What is, and hath been done below?  
Who made the Balance, or whence came  
The Bull, the Lion, and the Ram?  
Did not we here, the Argo rig  
Make Berenice's Periwig?  
Whose Liv'ry does the Coachman wear?  
Or who made Cassiopoea's Chair?  
And therefore as they came from hence,  
With us may hold Intelligence.  
Plato deyned, the World can be  
Governed without Geometry,  
(For Money b'ing the common Scale  
Of things by measure, weight, and tale;  
In all th' affairs of Church and State,  
'Tis both the Balance and the Weight:)  
Then much less can it be without  
Divine Astrology made out,  
That puts the other down in worth,  
As far as Heaven's above Earth.  
The reasons (quoth the Knight) I grant  
Are something more significant  
Than any that the Learned use,  
Upon this subject to produce;  
And yet, th' are far from satisfactory  
T' establish and keep up your Factory.  
The Egyptians say, the Sun has twice  
Shifted his setting and his rise;  
Twice has he risen in the West,  
As many times set in the East;  
But whether that be true, or no,  
The Devil any of you know.  
Some hold, the Heavens, like a Top,  
Are kept by Circulation up;  
And 'twere not for their wheeling round,  
They'd instantly fall to the ground:  
As sage Empedocles of old,  
And from him Modern Authors old.  
Plato believed the Sun and Moon,  
Below all other Planets run.  
Some Mercury, some Venus seat  
Above the Sun himself in height.  
The learned Scaliger complained  
'Gainst what Copernicus maintained,  
That in Twelve hundred years, and odd,  
The Sun had left his ancient Road,  
And nearer to the Earth, is come  
'Bove Fifty thousand miles from home▪  
Swore 'twas a most notorious Flame,  
And he that had so little Shame  
To vent such Fopperies abroad,  
Deserved to have his Rump well clawed;  
Which Monsieur Bodin hearing: swore  
That he deserved the Rod much more,  
That durst upon a truth give doom,  
He knew less than the Pope of Rome.  
Cardan believed, Great States depend  
Upon the tip o' th' Bear's Tails end;  
That as she whisked it towards the Sun,  
Strowed mighty Empires up and down;  
Which others say must needs be false,  
Because your true Bears have no Tails.  
Some say, the Zodiack-Constellations  
Have long since changed their antique Stations  
Above a Sign; and prove the same,  
●n Taurus now, once in the Ram;  
Affirm the Trigon chopped and changed,  
The Watery with the Fiery ranged;  
Then how can their effects still hold  
To be the same they were of old.  
This, though the Art were true, would make  
Our Modern Soothsayers mistake;  
And is one cause they tell more lies,  
In Figures and Nativities,  
Than th' old Chaldean Conjurers,  
In so many hundred thousand years;  
Beside their Nonsense in translating,  
For want of Accidence and Latin.  
Like Idus and Calendae Englisht  
The Quarter-days, by skilful Linguist,  
And yet with Canting, 'Slight, and Cheat  
'Twill serve their turn to do the seat;  
Make Fools believe in their foreseeing  
Of things before they are in Being;  
To swallow Gudgeons ere th' are catched,  
And count their Chickens ere th' are hatched,  
Make them the Constellations prompt,  
●nd give 'em back their own account:  
●ut still the best to him that gives  
●he best price for't, or best believes.  
●ome Towns and Cities, some, for brevity,  
●ave cast the Versal World's Nativity;  
●nd made the Infant-Stars confess,  
●ike Fools or Children, what they please:  
●ome calculate the hidden fates  
●f Monkeys, Puppy-Dogs, and Cats,  
●ome Running Nags, and Fighting-Cocks;  
●ome Love, Trade, Law-Suits, and the Pox;  
●ome take a measure of the lives  
●f Fathers, Mothers, Husbands, Wives,  
●ake Opposition, Trine, and Quartile;  
●ell who is barren, and who fertile,  
●s if the Planet's first aspect  
●he tender Infant did infect  
In Soul and Body, and instill  
All future good, and future ill:  
Which, in their dark fatalities lurking,  
At destined Periods fall a working;  
And break out like the hidden seeds  
Of long diseases into deeds,  
In Friendships, Enmities and strife,  
And all th' emergences of Life:  
No sooner does he peep into,  
The World, but he has done his do,  
Catched all Diseases took all Physic,  
That cures, or kills a man that is sick;  
Married his punctual dose of Wives,  
Is Cuckolded, and breaks or Thrives.  
There's but twinkling of a Star  
Between a Man of Peace and War,  
A Thief and Justice, Fool and Knave,  
A huffing Officer and a Slave,  
A crafty Lawyer and Pickpocket,  
〈◊〉 great Philosopher and a Blockhead,  
〈◊〉 formal Preacher and Player,  
〈◊〉 learned Physician and manslayer.  
●s if Men from the Stars did suck  
old-age, Diseases, and ill-luck,  
●it, Folly, Honour, Virtue, Vice,  
●rade, Travel, Women, Claps, and Dice;  
●nd draw with the first Air they breath,  
Battle, and Murder, sudden Death,  
●re not these fine Commodities,  
●o be imported from the Skies?  
●nd vended here among the Rabble,  
●or staple Goods, and warrantable?  
●ike Money by the Druids borrowed,  
● th' other World to be restored.  
Quoth Sidrophel, To let you know  
You wrong the Art and Artists too:  
Since Arguments are lost on those  
That do our Principles oppose;  
I will (althougth I've done't before)  
Demonstrate to your sense once more,  
And draw a Figure that shall tell you  
What you perhaps forget, befell you;  
By way of Horary inspection,  
Which some account our worst erection.  
With that, He Circles draws, and Squares  
With Ciphers, Astral Characters;  
Then looks 'em over, to understand 'em,  
Although set down Hab-nab, at random.  
Quoth he, This Scheme o'th' Heavens set  
Discovers how in fight you met  
At Kingston with a Maypole Idol,  
And that y'were banged both back and side well:  
And though you overcame the Bear,  
The Dogs beat you at Brentford Fair;  
Where sturdy Butcher broke your Noddle,  
And handled you like a Fop-doodle.  
Quoth Hudibras, I now perceive  
You are no Conj'rer, b' your leave,  
That Paltry story is untrue,  
And forged to cheat such Gulls as you.  
Not true? quoth he, How e'er you vapour,  
I can, what I affirm, make appear;  
Whachum shall justify't to your face,  
And prove he was upon the place:  
He played the Saltintbanco's part,  
Transformed t' a Frenchman by my Art,  
He stole your Cloak, and picked your Pocket,  
Chewsed, and Caldesed ye like a Blockhead:  
And what you lost I can produce  
If you deny it, here i' th' house.  
Quoth Hudibras, I do believe,  
That Argument's Demonstrative;  
Ralpho, bear witness, and go fetch us  
A Constable to seize the Wretches:  
For though th' are both false Knaves and Cheats,  
Impostors, Jugglers, Counterfeits,  
I'll make them serve for perpendiculars,  
As true, as e'er were used by Brick-layers;  
They're guilty by their own Confessions,  
Of Felony; and at the Sessions  
Upon a Bench I will so handle 'em,  
That the Vibration of this Pendulum  
Shall make all Tailors Yards, of one  
Unanimous opinion:  
A thing he long has vapoured of,  
But now shall make out it by proof.  
Quoth Sidrophel, I do not doubt,  
To find friends, that will bear me out:  
Nor have I hazarded my Art,  
And Neck, so long on the State's part,  
To be exposed i' th' end to suffer,  
By which a Braghadocio Huffer.  
Huffer, quoth Hudibras, This Sword  
Shall down thy false throat, Cram that word,  
Ralpho, make haste, and call an Officer,  
To apprehend this Stygian Sophister;  
Mean while I'll hold 'em at a Bay,  
Lest he and Whachum run away.  
But Sidrophel, who from th' Aspect  
Of Hudibras, did now erect,  
A Figure worse portending far,  
Than that of most malignant Star:  
Believed it now the fittest moment,  
To shun the danger that might come on't,  
While Hudibras was all alone,  
And he and Whachum, two to one;  
This being resolved, He spied by chance,  
Behind the Door, an Iron Lance,  
That many a sturdy Limb had gored,  
And Legs, and Loins, and Shoulders board.  
He snatched it up, and made a Pass,  
To make his way through Hudibras.  
Whachum had a Fire-Fork,  
With which he vowed to do his Work.  
But Hudibras was well prepared,  
And stoutly stood upon his Guard.  
He put by Sidrophello's thrust,  
And in, right manfully, he rushed,  
The weapon from his gripe he wrung,  
And laid him on the earth along.  
Whachum his Seacole-Prong threw by,  
And basely turned his back to fly.  
But Hudibras gave him a twitch  
As quich as Lightning in the Breech.  
Just in the place, where Honour's lodged,  
As wise Philosophers have judged;  
Because a kick in that part more  
Hurts Honour, than deep wounds before.  
Quoth Hudibras, the Stars determine.  
You are my Prisoners, base Vermine.  
Could they not tell you so, as well  
As what I came to know, foretell?  
By this, what Cheats you are, we find,  
That in your own Concerns are blind:  
Your Lives are now at my dispose,  
To be redeemed by fine or blows:  
But who his Honour would defile,  
To take, or fell two lives so vile;  
I'll give you Quarter, but your Pillage,  
The Conquering Warrier's Crop and Tillage,  
Which with his Sword he reaps, and blows;  
That mine, the Law of Arms allows.  
This said, in haste he fell  
To rummaging of Sidrophel.  
First, He expounded both his Pockets,  
And found a Watch with Rings and Lockets,  
Which had been left with him, t' erect  
A Figure for, and so detect.  
A Copperplate, with Almanacs  
Engraved upon't, with other knacks,  
Of Booker's, lilly's, Sarah Jimmers;  
And Blank-Schemes to discover Nimmers;  
A Moon-Dial, with Napier's bones,  
And several Constellation-stones,  
Engraved in Planetary hours,  
That over Mortals had strange powers  
To make 'em thrive in Law, or Trade;  
And stab, or poison, to evade;  
In Wit, or Wisdom to improve,  
And be victorious in Love.  
Whachum had neither Cross nor Pile,  
His Plunder was not worth the while;  
All which the conqueror did discompt,  
To pay for curing of his Rump.  
But Sidrophel, as fulls of tricks,  
As Rota-men of Politics,  
Straight cast about to overreach  
Th' unwary conqueror with a fetch,  
And make him glad, (at least) to quit  
His Victory, and fly the Pit,  
Before the Secular Prince of Darkness  
Arrived to seize upon his Carcase.  
And, as a Fox, with hot pursuit,  
Chased through a Warren, cast about  
To save his credit, and among  
Dead Vermin on a Gallows hung;  
And while the Dogs ran underneath,  
Escaped (by counterfeiting Death)  
Not out of Cunning, but a Train  
Of Atoms justling in his Brain,  
As learned Philosophers give out:  
So Sidrophello cast about,  
And fell to's wont Trade again,  
To feign himself in earnest slain,  
First▪ stretched out one leg, then another,  
And seeming in his Breast to smother,  
A broken Sighs; Quoth he, Where am I,  
Alive or Dead? Or which way came I  
Through so immense a space so soon?  
But now, I thought myself i' th' Moon;  
And that a Monster with huge Wiskers,  
More formidable than a Swissers,  
My body through and through had drilled,  
And Whachum by my side, had killed,  
Had cross examined both our Hose,  
And plundered all we had to lose;  
Look there he is, I see him now,  
And feel the place I am run through  
And there lies Whachum by my side,  
Stone-dead, and in his own blood died.  
Oh! Oh! with that he fetched a Groan,  
And fell again into a swoon.  
Shut both his Eyes, and stopped his Breath,  
And, to the Life, out acted- Death.  
That Hadibras, to all appearing,  
Believed him to be dead as Herring.  
He held it now no longer safe,  
To tarry the return of Ralph;  
But rather leave him in the Lurch;  
Thought he, he has abused our Church,  
Refused to give himself one firk,  
To carry on the Public work.  
Despised our Synod-men like Dirt.  
And made their Discipline his sport;  
Divulged the secrets of their Classes,  
And their Conventions proved High Places;  
Disparaged their Tith-Pigs, as Pagan,  
And set at nought their Cheese and Bacon;  
Railed at their Covenant, and jeered  
Their reverend Parsons to my Beard,  
For all which Scandals to be quit,  
At once, this Juncture falls out fit,  
I'll make him henceforth, to beware,  
And tempt my fury, if he dare:  
He must (at least) hold up his hand,  
By twelve Freeholders' to be scanned,  
Who by their skill in Palmistry,  
Will quickly read his Destiny;  
And make him glad to read his Lesson,  
Or take a turn for't at the Session:  
Unless his Light and Gifts prove truer,  
Than ever yet they did, I'm sure;  
For if he scape with Whipping now,  
'Tis more than he can hope to do,  
And that will disengage my Conscience,  
Of th' Obligation, in his own sense.  
I'll make him now by force abide,  
What he by gentle means denied,  
To give my Honour satisfaction,  
And right the Brethren in the Action.  
This being resolved with equal speed,  
And Conduct, he approached his Steed;  
And with Activity unwont,  
Essayed the lofty Beast to mount;  
Which once achieved, he spurred his Palfrey,  
To get from th' Enemy, and Ralph, free;  
Left Danger, Fears, and Foes behind,  
And beat, at least three lengths, the Wind.    

AN HEROICAL EPISTLE OF HUDIBRAS TO SIDROPHEL.  Ecce iterum Crispinus— 
WEll Sidrophel, though 'tis in vain  
To tamper with your Crazy Brain,  
Without Trepanning of your Scull.  
As often as the Moon's at Full:  
'Tis not amiss, ere ye are given over,  
To try one desperate Medicine more:  
For where your Case can be no worse,  
The desp'rat'st is the wisest course.  
Iced possible, that you, whose Ears  
Are of the Tribe of issachar's,  
And might (with equal Reason) either  
For Merit, or extent of Leather,  
With William Pryn's, before they were  
Retrenched, and Crucifi'd compare,  
Should you be deaf against a noise  
So roaring as the Public Voice?  
That speaks your virtues free and loud,  
And openly in every crowd.  
As loud as one that sings his part  
T' a Wheel-barrow or Turnip Cart,—  
Or your new Nicknamed old Invention,  
To cry Green Hastings with an Engine.  
(As if the vehemence had stun'd,  
And torn your Drumheads with the sound)  
And 'cause your Folly's now no news,  
But overgrown and out of use.  
Persuade yourself there's no such matter,  
But that 'tis vanished out of Nature,  
When Folly, as it grows in years,  
The more extravagant appears.  
For who but you could be possessed  
With so much Ignorance, and Beast,  
That neither all men's Scorn, and Hate,  
Nor being Laughed and Pointed at,  
Nor brayed so often in a Mortar,  
Can teach you wholesome Sense, and Nurture?  
But (like a Reprobate) what course  
S'ever's used, grow worse and worse?  
Can no Transfusion of the Blood,  
That makes Fools Cattle, do you good?  
Nor putting Pigs t' a Bitch to Nurse,  
To turn 'em into Mungrel-Curs,  
Put you into a way, at least,  
To make yourself a better Beast;  
Can all your critical Intrigues  
Of trying sound from rotten Eggs;  
Your several Newfound Remedies,  
Of curing Wounds, and Scabs in Trees;  
Your Arts of Fluxing them from Claps,  
And Purging their infected Saps,  
recovering Shankers, Chrystallines,  
And Nodes and Botches in their Rinds,  
Have no effect to operate  
Upon that duller Block, your Pate,  
But still it must be lewdly bend  
To tempt your own due Punishment—?  
And like your whimseyed Chariots draw  
The Boys to course you without Law?  
●s if the Art you have so long  
professed, of making old Dogs young,  
In you had Virtue to renew  
Not only Youth, but Childhood too.  
Can you, that understand all Books  
By judging only with your Looks,  
Resolve all Problems with your Face,  
As others do with B's, and A's,  
Unriddle all that Mankind knows  
With solid bending of your Brows,  
All Arts and Sciences advance,  
With screwing of your Countenance,  
And with a penetrating Eye,  
Into th' abstrusest Learning pry,  
Know more of any Trade b' a hint,  
Than those that have been bred up in't▪  
And yet have no Art true, or false  
To help your own bad Naturals?  
But still the more you strive t' appear,  
Are found to be the wretcheder.  
For Fools are known by looking wise,  
As Men find Woodcocks by their Eyes.  
Hence 'tis, that 'cause y'have gai'nd o'th' College,  
A Quarter-share (at most) of Knowledge,  
And brought in none, but spent Repute,  
YE assume a Power as absolute  
To Judge and Censure, and Control,  
As if you were the sole Sir Poll  
And saucily pretend to know  
More than your Dividend comes to,  
You'll find the thing will not be done,  
With Ignorance, and Face alone:  
No though ye have purchased to your Name,  
In History so great a Fame,  
That now your Talent's so well known,  
For having all belief outgrown;  
That every strange Prodigious Tale  
Is measured by your Germane Scale,—  
By which the Virtuosos try  
The Magnitude of every lie,  
Cast up to what it does amount:  
And place the big'st to your account.  
That all those stories that are laid  
Too truly to you, and those made,  
Are now still charged upon your score,  
And lesser Authors named no more.  
Alas that Faculty destroys  
Those soon, it designs to raise.  
And all your vain Renown will spoil,  
As Guns o'ercharged the more recoil.  
Though he that has but Impudence  
To all things has a fair Pretence  
And put among his wants, but shame,  
To all the World may lay his claim:  
Though you have tried that nothing's born  
With greater ease than Public Scorn;  
That all affronts do still give Place  
To your Impenetrable Face;  
That makes your way through all affairs,  
As Pigs through Hedges creep with theirs.  
Yet as 'tis Counterfeit and Brass  
You must not think 'twill always pass;  
For all Impostors, when they're known,  
Are past their Labour, and undone.  
And all the best that can befall  
An Artificial Natural,  
Is that which Madmen find, as soon  
As once th' are broke loose from the Moon  
And proof against her Influence,  
Relapse to e'er so little Sense  
To turn stark Fools, and Subjects fit  
For sport of Boys, and Rabble-wit.   

Annotations TO THE SECOND PART.  But now t' observe, etc. 
THe beginning of this Second Part may perhaps seem strange and abrupt to those who do not know, that it was written of purpose, in imitation of Virgil, who begins the IV Book of his Aeneides in the very same manner, At Regina gravi, etc. And this is enough to satisfy the curiosity of those who believe that Invention and Fancy ought to be measured (like Cases in Law) by Precedents, or else they are in the power of the Critic.  A Saxon Duke did grow so fat. 
This History of the Duke of Saxony, is not altogether so strange as that of a Bishop his Countryman, who was quite eaten up with Rats and Mice.  King Pyrrhus cured his Splenetic, And testy Courtiers with a kick. 
Pyrrhus' King of Epirus, who as Pliny says, had this occult Quality in his Toe, Pollicis in dextro Pede tactu Lienosis medebatur. L. 7. C. 11.  In close Catasta shut, etc. 
Catasta is but a pair of Stocks in English, But Heroical Poetry must not admit of any vulgar word (especially of paltry signification) and therefore some of our Modern Authors are fain to import foreign words from abroad, that were never before heard of in our Language.  'Twas he that made St. Francis do, etc. 
The Ancient Writers of the Lives of Saints, were of the same sort of People, who first writ of Knight-Errantry, and as in the one, they rendered the brave Actions of some very great Persons ridiculous, by their prodigious Lies, and sottish way of describing them: So they have abused the Piety of some very devout Persons, by imposing such stories upon them, as this upon St. Francis.  This made the beauteous Queen of Crete. 
The History of Pasiphae is common enough, only this may be observed, That though she brought the Bull a Son and Heir; yet the Husband was fain to father it, as appears by the Name, perhaps because the Country being an Island, he was within the four Seas, when the Infant was begotten.  As your own Secretary Albertus. 
Albertus Magnus was a Sweedish Bishop, who wrote a very Learned Work, De Secretis Mulierum.  Unless it be to squint and laugh. 
Pliny in his Natural History affirms, ThatVni animalium homini oculi depravantur, unde Cognomina Strabonum & Paetorum. Lib. 2.  As Friar Bacon's Noddle was. 
The Tradition of Friar Bacon and the Brazenhead, is very commonly known, and considering the times he lived in, is not much more strange than what another great Philosopher of his Name, has since delivered up of a Ring, that being tied in a string, and held like a Pendulum in the middle of a Silver Bowl, will vibrate of itself, and tell exactly against the sides of the Divining Cup, the same thing with, Time is, Time was, etc.  Or like some Indians Sculls so tough, That Authors say th' are Musket proof. 
American Indians, among whom (the same Authors affirm) that there are others, whose Sculls are so soft, to use their own words, Vt Digito perforari possunt.  Or Oracle from Heart of Oak. 
Jupiter's Oracle in Epirus, near the City of Dodona. Vbi Nemus erat Jovi sacrum, Querneum totum in quo Jovis Dodonaei Templum fuisse narratur.  Semiramis of Babylon. 
Semiramis, Queen of Assyria, is said to be the first that invented Eunuches. Semiramis teneros mares castravit omnium Prima. Am. Marcel. L. 14. p. 22. Which is something strange in a Lady of her Constitution, who is said to have received Horses into her embraces (as another Queen did a Bull) But that perhaps may be the reason, why she after thought Men not worth the while.  For some Philosophers of late here. 
S.K.D. in his Book of Bodies; who has this story of the German-Boy, which he endeavours to make good by several Natural reasons; By which those who have the Dexterity to believe what they please, may be fully satisfied of the probability of it.  A Persian Emperor whipped his Granum. 
Xerxes who used to whip the Seas and Winds. In Corum, atque Eurum solitus sevire flagellis, Juven. Sat. 10.  So the ancient Stoics in their Porch. 
In Porticu (Stoicorum Scholâ Athenis) Discipulorum seditionibus, mille Quadringenti triginta Cives interfecti sunt Diog. Laert. in vita Zenonis p. 383. Those old Virtuoso's were better Proficients in those Exercises, than the Modern, who seldom improve higher than Cuffing, and Kicking.  That Bonum is an Animal. 
Bonum is such a kind of Animal, as our Modern Virtuosos, from Don Quixot, will have Windmills under sail to be. The same Authors are of opinion, That all Ships are Fishes while they are afloat, but when they are run on ground, or laid up in the Dock, become Ships again.  — In a Town There lived a Cobbler, and but one. 
This History of the Cobbler has been attested by Persons of good credit, who were upon the place when it was done.  Have been exchanged for Tubs of Ale. 
The Knight was kept Prisoner in Exeter, and after several exchanges proposed, but none accepted of, was at last released for a Barrel of Ale, as he often used, upon all occasions, to declare.  Bore a Slave with him in his Chariot. 
— Et sibi Consul. Ne placeat, curru servus portatur eodem Juven. Sat 10.  Hung out their Mantles Della Guer. 
Tunica Coccinea solebat pridie quam dimicandum esset, supra Praetorium poni quasi admonitio & indicium futurae Pugnae Lipsius in Tacit. p. 56.  Next Links and Torches, etc. 
That the Roman Emperors were wont to have Torches born before them (by day) in public, appears by Herodion in Portinance. Lip. in Tacit. p. 16.  Vespasian being daubed with Dirt. 
C. Caesr succensens, propter curam verrendis viis non adhibitam, Luto jussit oppleri, congesto per milites in praetextae sinum. Sueton in Vespas. Ca 5.  Has not this present Parliament, A Ledger to the Devil sent? 
The Witchfinder in Suffolk, who in the Presbyterian times had a Commission to discover Witches, (of whom (right or wrong) he caused 60 to be hanged within the compass of one year, and among the rest an old Minister, who had been a painful Preacher for many years.  Did he not help the Dutch to purge. At Antwerp their Cathedral Church? 
In the beginning of the Civil Wars of Flanders, the common people of Antwerp, in a tumult, broke open the Cathedral Church; to demolish Images and Shrines: and did so much mischief in a small time, that Strada writes, There were several Devils seen very busy among them, otherwise it had been impossible.  Sing Catches to the Saints at Mascon. 
This Devil of Mascon delivered all his Oracles, like his Forefathers, in Verse, which he sung to Tunes: He made several Lampoons upon the Hugonots, and foretold them many things, which afterwards came to pass; as may be seen in his Memoires, written in French.  Appear in divers shapes to Kelly, And speak i'th' Nun at London's Belly. 
The History of Dr. Dee and the Devil, published by Mer. Causabon, Isac. Fil. Prebend of Canterbury, has a large account of all those Passages; in which the stile of the true and false Angels appears to be penned by one and the same person. The Nun of London in France, and all her tricks have been seen by many Persons of Quality of this Nation, yet living, who have made very good observations upon the French Book written upon that occasion.  Meet with the Parliaments Committee At Woodstock on a personal Treaty. 
A Committee of the long Parliament sitting in the King's House in Woodstock-Park, were terrified with several Apparitions, the particulars whereof were then the News of the whole Nation.  At Sarum took a Cavalier. 
Withers has a long story in Doggerel, of a Soldier of the King's Army, who being a Prisoner at Sali●bury, and drinking a health to the Devil upon his knees, was carried away by him through a single pane of Glass.  Since old Hodg-Bacon. 
Roger Bacon, commonly called Friar Bacon, lived in the Reign of our Edward the I. and for some little skill he had in the Mathematics, was, by the Rabble, accounted a Conjurer, and had the sottish story of the Brazen Head fathered upon him, by the ignorant Monks of those days. Robert Grosthead was Bishop of Lincoln in the Reign of Hen. III. He was a Learned Man for those times, and for that reason suspected by the Clergy to be a Conjurer, for which crime being degraded by Pope Innocent the IV. and Summoned to appear at Rome, he appealed to the Tribunal of Christ; which our Lawyers say is illegal, if not a Praemunire, for offering to sue in a Foreign Court.  Which Socrates and Chaerephon In vain assayed so long agone. 
Aristophanes in his Comedy of the Clouds brings in Socrates and Chaerephon, measuring the Leap of a Flea, from the one's Beard to the others.  Was raised by him, found out by Fisk. 
This Fisk was a late famous ginger, who flourished about the time of Subtle and Face, and was equally celebrated by Ben. Johnson.  Unless it be that Cannon-ball. 
This experiment was tried by some Foreign Virtuoso's who planted a Piece of Ordnance point-blanc against the Zenith, and having fired it, the Bullet never rebounded back again, which made them all conclude, that it sticks in the mark; but Des Cartes was of opinion, That it does but hang in the Air.  As lately was revealed to Sedgwyck. 
This Sedgwyck had many Persons (and some of Quality) that believed in him, and prepared to keep the day of Judgement with him, but were disappointed; for which the false Prophet was afterwards called by the name of Doomsday Sedgwyck.  Your Modern Indian Magician, Makes but a hole in th' Earth to piss in. 
This compendious new way of Magic is affirmed by Monsieur Le Blanc (in his Travels) to be used in the East-Indies.  Bumbastus kept a Devil's Bird, etc. 
Paracelsus is said to have kept a small Devil prisoner in the Pummel of his Sword, which was the reason, perhaps, why he was so valiant in his Drink; Howsoever it was to better purpose than Annibal carried poison in his, to dispatch himself, if he should happen to be surprised in any great extremity, for the Sword would have done the Feat alone, much better, and more Soldierlike. And it was below the Honour of so great a Commander, to go out of the World like a Rat.  Agrippa kept a Stygian Pug. 
Cornelius Agrippa had a Dog, that was suspected to be a Spirit, for some tricks he was wont to do, beyond the capacity of a Dog, as it was thought; but the Author of Magia Adamica has taken a great deal of pains to vindicate both the Doctor and the Dog, from that aspersion, in which he has shown a very great respect and kindness for them both.  As Averrhois played but a mean trick. 
Averrhois Astronomiam propter Excentricos contempsit. Phil. Melancton in Elem. Phys. p. 781.  The Median Emperor dreamt his Daughter. 
Astyages King of Media had this Dream of his Daughter Mandane, and the Interpretation from the Magis, wherefore he married her to a Persian of mean quality, by whom she had Cyrus, who conquered all Asia, and translated the Empire from the Medes to the Persians. Herodot. L. 2.  When Caesar in the Senate fell. 
Fiunt aliquando Prodigiosi, & longiores Solis Defectus, quales occiso Caesare Dictatore & Antoniano Bello, totius Anni Pallore continuo, Plin.  Augustus' having b' oversight, etc. 
Divus Augustus Laevum sibi prodidit calceum praepostere indutum, quo die seditione Militum propè afflictus est, Idem. Lib. 2.  The Roman Senate when within, The City Walls an Owl was seen. 
Romani L. Crasso & C. Maria Coss. Bubone viso orbem lustrabant.  For Anaxagoras long agone, Saw Hills, as well as you, i'th' Moon. 
Anaxagoras affirmabat Solem Candens Ferrum esse, & Peloponesso majorem: Lunam habitacula in se habere, & Colles, & Valles. Fertur dixisse Caelum omne ex Lapidibus esse Compositum; Damnatus & in exilium pulsus est, quod impie, solemn Candentem laminam esse dixisset. Diogen. Laert. in Anaxag. p. 11.13.  The Egyptians say, the Sun has twice Shifted his Setting and his Rise. 
Aegyptii Decem millia Annorum, & amplius, recensent; & observatum est in hoc tanto Spatio, bis mutata esse Loca Ortuum & Occasuum solis; ita ut Sol bis ortus sit ubi nunc occidit, & bis descenderit ubi nunc oritur. Phil. Melanct. Lib. 1. p. 60.  Some hold the Heavens like a Top, Are kept by Circulation up. 
Causa quare Caelum non cadit, (secundum Empedoclem) est velocitas sui motus, Comment. in L. 2. Aristot. de Caelo.  Plato believed the Sun and Moon Below all other Planets run. 
Plato solemn & Lunam caeteris Planetis inferiores esse putavit, G. Cunning. in Cosmogr. L. 1. p. 11.  The Learned Scaliger complained. 
Copernicus' in Libris Revolutionum, deinde Reinholdus, post etiam Stadius, Mathematici nobiles perspicuis Demonstrationibus docuerunt, solis Apsida Terris esse propriorem, quam Ptolomaei aetate duodecim partibus, i. e. uno & triginta terrae semidiametris. Jo. Bod. Met. Hist. p. 455.  Cardan believed great States depend, etc. 
Putat Cardanus, ab extrema Cauda Helices seu Majori● ursae omne magnum Imperium pendere. Id. p. 325.  Than th' old Chaldean Conjurers In so many hundred thousand years. 
Chaldaei jactant se quadringinta septuaginta Annorum millia in periclitandis, experiundisque Puerorum Animis posuisse. Cicero.  Like Money by the Druids borrowed, etc. 
Druidae pecuniam mutuo accipiebant in Posteriore vita redituri. Patricius Tom. 2. p. 97.  That paltry story is untrue, And forged to cheat such Gulls as you. 
There was a notorious Idiot (that is here described by the Name and Character of Whacum) who counterfeited a Second Part of Hudibras, as untowardly as Captain Po, who could not write himself, and yet made a shift to stand on the Pillory, for Forging other men's Hands, as his Fellow Whachum, no doubt deserved; in whose abominable Doggerel This story of Hudibras and a French Mountebank at Brentford. Fair is as properly described.  That the vibration of this Pendulum, Shall make all Tailors Yards, of one Unanimous opinion. 
The device of the Vibration of a Pendulum, was intended to settle a certain Measure of els and Yards, etc. (that should have its foundation in Nature) all the World over; For by swinging a weight at the end of a string, and calculating (by the motion of the Sun, or any Star) how long the Vibration would last, in proportion to the length of the String, and weight of the Pendulum; they thought to reduce it back again, and from any part of time, compute the exact length of any string, that must necessarily vibrate in so much space of time: So that if a man should ask in China for a Quarter of an Hour of Satin or Taffata, they would know perfectly what it meant. And all Mankind learn a new way to measure things no more by the Yard, Foot, or Inch, but by the Hour, Quarter, and Minute.  Before the Secular Prince of Darkness. 
As the Devil is the spiritual Prince of Darkness, so is the Constable the Secular, who governs in the night with as great Authority as his Colleague, but far more imperiously.  
FINIS.   

HUDIBRAS. THE Third and Last PART.  
Written by the AUTHOR OF THE FIRST and SECOND PARTS.  
LONDON, Printed for Robert Horn, and are to be sold by Tho. Basset at the George in Fleetstreet. 1684.   

Licenced and Entered according to the Act of Parliament for Printing.   

HUDIBRAS. The Third and Last Part.  
The ARGUMENT of the FIRST CANTO of the Third Part.  
The Knight and Squire resolve at once,  
The one the other to renounce.  
They both approach the lady's Bower,  
The Squire t' inform, the Knight to woe her.  
She treats them with a Masquerade,  
By Furies and Hobgoblins made:  
From which the Squire conveys the Knight,  
And steals him, from himself, by Night.  
CANTO I.  

'TIS true, no Lover has that Power  
T' enforce a desperate Amour,  
As he that has two Strings to's Bow,  
And burns for Love and Money too:  
For then he's brave and Resolute,  
Disdains to render in his Suit,  
Has all his Flames and Raptures double,  
And hangs or drowns with half the trouble.  
While those who sillily pursue  
The simple downright way, and true,  
Make as unlucky Applications,  
And steer against the Stream their Passions.  
Some forge their Mistresses of Stars,  
And when the Ladies prove averse,  
And more untoward to be won,  
Than by Caligula the Moon,  
Cry out upon the Stars for doing  
Ill Offices to cross their wooing;  
When only by themselves they're hindered,  
For trusting those they made her Kindred:  
And still the harsher and hide-bounder  
The Damsels prove, become the fonder.  
For what mad Lover ever died,  
To gain a soft and gentle Bride?  
Or for a Lady tender-hearted,  
In purling Streams or Hemp departed?  
Leaped headlong int' Elysium,  
Through th' Windows of a dazzling Room?  
But for some cross ill-natured Dame,  
The amo'rous Fly burnt in his flame.  
This to the Knight could be no News,  
With all Mankind so much in use;  
Who therefore took the wiser course,  
To make the most of his Amours,  
Resolved to try all sorts of ways,  
As follows in due Time and Place.   

No sooner was the bloody Fight  
Between the Wizard and the Knight  
With all th' Appurtenances over,  
But he relapsed again t' a Lover:  
As he was always wont to do  
When he had discomfited a Foe,  
And used the only Antic Philters  
Derived from old Heroic Tilters.  
But now Triumphant and Victorious,  
He held th' Achievement was too glorious  
For such a Conqueror, to meddle  
With Pettey Constable, or Beadle;  
Or fly for Refuge to the Hostess  
Of th' Inns of Court and Chanc'ry, Justice:  
Who might, perhaps, reduce his Cause  
To th' Ordeal Trial of the Laws;  
Where none escape, but such as branded  
With red-hot Irons have past Bare-handed;  
And if they cannot read one Verse  
I'th' Psalms, must sing it, and that's worse.  
He therefore, judging it below him,  
To tempt a shame the Devil might owe him,  
Resolved to leave the Squire for Bail  
And Mainprize for him, to the Gaol,  
To answer, with his Vessel, all  
That might disastrously befall.  
He thought it now the fittest juncture,  
To give the Lady a Rencounter;  
T' acquaint her with his Expedition,  
And Conquest o'er the fierce Magician;  
Describe the manner of the Fray,  
And show the spoils he brought away;  
His bloody Scourging aggravate,  
The Number of the Blows and Weight:  
All which might probably succeed,  
And gain belief he had done the deed.  
Which he resolved t' enforce, and spare  
No pawning of his Soul, to swear;  
But, rather than produce his Back:  
To set his Conscience on the Rack:  
And, in pursuance of his urging  
Of Articles performed, and scourging,  
And all things else upon his part,  
Demand deliv'ry of her Heart,  
Her Goods, and Chattels, and good Graces,  
And Person, up to his embraces.  
Thought he, the ancient Errand Knights  
Won all their Lady's Hearts in Fights,  
And cut whole Giants into Fitters,  
To put them into amorous twitters;  
Whose stubborn Bowels scorned to yield  
Until their Gallants were half killed:  
But when their Bones were drubbed so sore  
They durst not woo one Combat more,  
The Lady's Hearts began to melt,  
Subdued with Blows their Lovers felt,  
So Spanish Heroes with their Lances  
At once wound Bulls and Ladies fancies:  
And he acquires the noblest Spouse  
That Widows greatest Herds of Cows.  
Then what may I expect to do,  
Wh ' have quelled so vast a Buffalo?   

Mean while the Squire was on his way,  
The Knight's late Orders to obey;  
Who sent him for a strong Detachment  
Of Beadles, Constables, and Watchmen,  
T'attack the Cunning-man for Plunder  
Committed falsely on his Lumber,  
When he, who had so lately sacked  
The Enemy, had done the Fact,  
Had rifled all his Pokes and Fobs  
Of Gimcracks, Whims and Jiggumbobs,  
Which he by hook or crook had gathered,  
And for his own Inventions fathered:  
And when they should, at Gaol-delivery,  
Unriddle one another's Thievery,  
Both might have evidence enough  
To render neither halter-proof.  
He thought it desperate to tarry,  
And venture to be Accessary:  
But rather wisely slip his Fetters,  
And leave them for the Knight, his Betters.  
He called to mind th' unjust foul play  
He would have offered him that day,  
To make him curry his own Hide,  
Which no Beast ever did beside,  
Without all possible evasion,  
But of the Riding Dispensation.  
And therefore much about the hour,  
The Knight (for reasons told before)  
Resolved to leave him to the Fury  
Of Justice and an unpacked Jury,  
The Squire concurred t' abandon him,  
And serve him in the selfsame Trim;  
T' acquaint the Lady what he had done,  
And what he meant to carry on;  
What Project 'twas he went about,  
When Sidrophel and he fell out;  
His firm and steadfast Resolution,  
To swear her to an Execution;  
To pawn his inward Ears, to marry her.  
And Bribe the Devil himself to carry her.  
In which both dealt, as if they meant  
Their Party Saints to represent,  
Who never failed, upon their sharing  
In any Prosperous Arms-Bearing,  
To lay themselves out, to supplant  
Each other Cousin-german Saint.  
But e'er the Knight could do his Part,  
The Squire had got so much the Start,  
HE had to the Lady done his Errand,  
And told her all his Tricks aforehand.  
Just as he finished his Report,  
The Knight alighted in the Court;  
And having tied his Beast t' a Pale,  
And taken time for both to stolen▪  
He put his Band and Beard in order,  
The Sprucer to accost and board her;  
And now began t' approach the Door:  
When she, wh' had spied him out before,  
Conveyed th' Informer out of sight,  
And went to entertain the Knight.  
With whom encountering after Longees  
Of humble and submissive Congees,  
And all due Ceremonies paid,  
He stroked his Beard, and thus he said:  
Madam, I do, as is my Duty,  
Honour the Shadow of your Shoe-tye:  
And now am come, to bring your Ear  
A Present you'll be glad to hear;  
At least I hope so. The thing's done,  
Or may I never see the Sun;  
For which I humbly now demand  
Performance at your gentle Hand:  
And that you'd please to do your part,  
As I have done mine to my smart.  
With that he shrugged his sturdy Back,  
As if he felt his Shoulders ache.  
But she, who well enough knew what  
(Before he spoke) he would be at,  
Pretended not to apprehend  
The Mystery of what he meant:  
And therefore wished him to expound  
His dark expressions less profound.  
Madam, quoth he, I come to prove  
How much I've suffered for your Love,  
Which (like your Votary) to win,  
I have not spared my tattered skin:  
And, for those meritorious Lashes,  
To claim your favour and good Graces,  
Quoth she, I do remember once  
I freed you from th' enchanted Sconce;  
And that you promised, for that favour,  
To bind your Back to th' good Behaviour,  
And for my Sake and Service vowed  
To lay upon't a heavy Load,  
And what 'twould bear t' a scruple prove,  
As other Knights do oft make love.  
Which, whether you have done or no,  
Concerns yourself, not me, to know.  
But if you have, I shall Confess,  
YE are honester than I could guests.  
Quoth he, If you suspect my troth,  
I cannot prove it but by Oath;  
And, if you make a question on't,  
I'll pawn my Soul, that I have done't.  
And he that makes his Soul his Surety,  
I think, does give the best security.  
Quoth she, Some say, the Soul's secure  
Against Distress and Forfeiture;  
Is free from Action, and exempt  
From Execution and Contempt;  
And to be summoned to appear  
In th' other World, s'illegal here:  
And therefore few make any account,  
Int' what encumbrances they run't.  
For most men carry things so even  
Between this World, and Hell and Heaven,  
Without the least offence to either,  
They freely deal in all together;  
And equally abhor to quit  
This World for both, or both for it.  
And when they pawn and damn their Souls,  
They are but Prisoners on Parols.  
For that, quoth he, 'tis rational,  
They may be accountable in all.  
For when there is that intercourse  
Between Divine and Humane Powers,  
That all that we determine here  
Commands Obedience every where;  
When Penalties may be commuted  
For Fines, or Ears, and Executed;  
It follows, nothing binds so fast  
As Souls in Pawn and Mortgage past.  
For Oaths are th' only Tests and Scales  
Of right and wrong, and true and false;  
And there's no other way to try  
The Doubts of Law and Justice by.  
Quoth she, What is it you would swear?  
There's no believing till I hear:  
For till th' are understood, all Tales  
(Like Nonsense) are not True, nor False.  
Quoth he, When I resolved t' obey  
What you commanded th' other day,  
And to perform my Exercise,  
(As Schools are wont) for your fair eyes;  
T' avoid all Scruples in the Case,  
I went to do't upon the Place.  
But as the Castle is enchanted  
By Sidrophel the Witch, and haunted  
With evil Spirits, as you know,  
Who took my Squire and me for two;  
Before I'd hardly time to lay  
My weapons by, and disarray,  
I heard a Formidable Noise,  
Loud as the Stentrophonick Voice,  
That Roared far off, Dispatch and Strip,  
I'm ready with th' Infernal Whip,  
That shall divest thy Ribs of Skin,  
To expiate thy lingering Sin.  
The hast broke perfidiously thy Oath,  
And not performed thy plighted Troth;  
But spared thy Renegado Back,  
Where the hadst so great a Prize at Stake:  
Which now the Fates have ordered me  
For Penance, and Revenge to Flay,  
Unless thou presently make haste.  
Time is, Time was: and there it ceased.  
With which though startled, I confess,  
Yet th' Horror of the thing was less  
Than th' other Dismal apprehension  
Of Interruption or Prevention.  
And therefore snatching up the Rod,  
I laid upon my Back a load;  
Resolved to spare no Flesh and Blood,  
To make my Word and Honour good.  
Till tired, and taking Truce at length,  
For new Recruits of Breath and Strength,  
I felt the Blows still plied as fast,  
As if th' had been by Lovers placed  
In Raptures of Platonic Lashing,  
And chaste Contemplative Bardashing.  
When facing hastily about,  
To stand upon my Guard and Scout,  
I found th' Infernal Cunning-man,  
And th' Vnder-witch, his Caliban,  
With Scourges (like the Furies) armed,  
That on my outward Quarters stormed.  
In haste I snatched my Weapon up,  
And gave their Hellish Rage a stop;  
Called thrice upon your Name, and fell  
Courageously on Sidrophel:  
Who now transformed himself t' a Bear,  
Began to roar aloud and tear;  
When I as furiously pressed on,  
My Weapon down his Throat to run,  
Laid hold on him: but he broke loose,  
And turned himself into a Goose,  
Dived under Water, in a Pond,  
To hide himself from being found.  
In vain I sought him, but as soon  
As I perceived him fled and gone,  
Prepared with equal Haste and Rage,  
His Vnder-Sorcerer t' engage.  
But bravely Scorning to defile  
My Sword with feeble blood and vile;  
I judged it better from a Quick-Set-Hedge  
to cut a knotted Stick,  
With which I furiously laid on;  
Till in a harsh and doleful tone  
It roared, Oh hold for pity, Sir,  
I am too great a Sufferer,  
Abused, as you have been, b' a Witch,  
But conjured int' a worse Caprich:  
Who sends me out on many a Jaunt,  
Old Houses in the Night to haunt,  
For opportunities t' improve  
Designs of Thievery or Love;  
With Drugs conveyed in Drink or Meat,  
All Feats of Witches counterfeit;  
Kill Pigs and Geese with powdered Glass,  
And make it for Enchantments pass,  
With Cow-itch meazle like a Leper,  
And choke with Fumes of Guiny-Pepper;  
Make Lechers and their Punks with Dewtry  
Comm●t fantastical Advowtry;  
Bewitch Hermetick-men to run  
Stark staring mad with Manicon;  
Believe Mechanic Virtuosos  
Can raise 'em Mountains in Potosi;  
And ●●llier than the Antic Fools,  
Take Treasure for a Heap of Coals:  
Seek out for Plants with Signatures,  
To Quack of Universal Cures;  
With Figures ground on pa●es of Glass,  
Make People on their Heads to pass;  
And mighty heaps of Coin increase,  
Reflected from a single piece:  
To draw in Fools, whose Natural Itches  
Incline perpetually to Witches;  
And keep me in continual Fears,  
And Danger of my Neck and Ears:  
When less Delinquent have been scourged,  
And Hemp on wooden Anvils forged,  
Which others for Cravats have worn  
About their Necks, and took a Turn.  
I pitied the sad Punishment  
The wretched Caitiff underwent,  
And held my Drubbing of his Bones  
Too great an Honour for Pultrones;  
For Knights are bound to feel no Blows  
From paltry and unequal Foes,  
Who when they slash and cut to pieces,  
Do all with civilest Addresses:  
Their Horses never give a Blow,  
But when they make a Leg and Bow.  
I therefore spared his Flesh, and pressed him  
About the Witch, with many a Question.  
Quoth he, For many Years he drove  
A kind of Broking-Trade in Love,  
Employed in all th' Intrigues and Trust  
Of feeble Speculative Lust;  
Procurer to th' Extravagancy  
And crazy Ribaldry of Fancy.  
By those the Devil had forsaken,  
As things below to him, to provoke.  
But b'ing a Vertuoso, able  
To Smatter, Quack, and Cant, and Dabble,  
He held his Talon most Adroit  
For any Mystical Exploit;  
As others of his Tribe had done,  
And raised their Prizes Three to One.  
For one Predicting Pimp has th' Odds  
Of Chauldrons of plain downright Bawds.  
But as an Elf (the Devils Valet)  
Is not so slight a thing to get,  
For those that do his business best,  
In Hell are used the ruggedest;  
Before so meriting a Person  
Could get a Grant, but in Reversion,  
He served two Prenticeships and longer  
I' th' Mystery of a Lady-Monger.  
For (as some write) A Witche's Ghost,  
As soon as from the Body loosed,  
Becomes a Puiny-Imp itself,  
And is another Witche's Elf.  
He after searching far and near,  
At length found one in Lancashire,  
With whom he bargained beforehand,  
And, after Hanging, entertained.  
Since which h'has played a thousand Feats,  
And practised all Mechanic Cheats:  
Transformed himself to th' ugly Shapes  
Of Wolves, and Bears, Baboons, and Apes;  
Which he has varied more than Witches,  
Or Pharaoh 's Wizards could their Switches;  
And all with whom h'has had to do,  
Turned to as Monstrous Figures too.  
Witness myself, whom he has abused,  
And to this Beastly shape reduced,  
By feeding me on Beans and Pease,  
He crams in nasty Crevices,  
And turns to Comfits by his Arts,  
To make me relish for Disserts,  
And one by one with Shame and Fear  
Lick up the candid Provender.  
Beside— But as h'was running on,  
To tell what other Feats h'had done,  
The Lady stopped his full Career,  
And told him, now 'twas time to hear:  
If half those things (said she) be true,  
(Th' are all (quoth he) I swear by you:)  
Why then (said she) that Sidrophel  
Has damned himself to th' Pit of Hell;  
Who, mounted on a Broom, the Nag  
And Hackney of a Lapland Hag,  
In Quest of you came hither Post,  
Within an Hour (I'm sure) at most;  
Who told me all you swear and say,  
Quite contrary another way;  
Vowed, that you came to him to know  
If you should carry me or no;  
And would have hired him and his Imps,  
To be your Matchmakers and Pimps,  
T' engage the Devil on your Side,  
And steal (like Proserpina ) your Bride.  
But he disdaining to embrace  
So filthy a Design, and base,  
You fell to vapouring and huffing,  
And drew upon him, like a Ruffian;  
Surprised him meanly, unprepared,  
Before h'had time to mount his Guard;  
And left him dead upon the Ground,  
With many a Bruise, and desperate wound:  
Swore you had broke and robbed his House,  
And stole his Talismanique Louse,  
And all his Newfound Old Inventions,  
With flat Felonious Intentions;  
Which he could bring out, where he had,  
And what he bought 'em for and paid;  
His Flea, his Morpion, and Punese,  
H'had gotten for his proper ease,  
And all in perfect Minutes made,  
By th' ablest Artists of the Trade;  
Which (he could prove it) since he lost,  
He has been eaten up almost;  
And all together might amount  
To many hundreds on account:  
For which h'had got sufficient warrant  
To seize the Malefactors Errand,  
Without capacity of Bail,  
But of a Cart's or Horse's Tail;  
And did not doubt to bring the Wretches,  
To serve for Pendulums to Watches;  
Which modern Virtuoso's say,  
Incline to Hanging every way.  
Beside he swore, and swore 'twas true,  
That ere he went in Quest of you,  
He set a Figure to discover  
If you were fled to Rye or Dover;  
And found it clear, that, to betray  
Yourselves and me, you fled this way;  
And that he was upon pursuit,  
To take you somewhere hereabout.  
He vowed h'had had Intelligence  
Of all that passed before and since:  
And found, that ere you came to him,  
YE had been engaging Life and Limb  
About a case of tender Conscience,  
Where both abounded in your own Sense;  
Till Ralpho, by his Light and Grace,  
Had cleared all Scruples in the Case;  
And proved that you might swear, and own  
Whatever's by the Wicked done.  
For which, most basely to requite  
The Service of his Gifts and Light,  
You strove t' oblige him by main force,  
To Scourge his Ribs instead of yours,  
But that he stood upon his Guard,  
And all your vapouring outdared:  
For which, between you both, the Feat  
Has never been performed as yet.  
While thus the Lady talked, the Knight  
Turned the outside of his eyes to white.  
(As Men of Inward Light are wont  
To turn their Optics in upon't.)  
He wondered how she came to know  
What he had done, and meant to do:  
Held up his Affidavit hand,  
As if h'had been to be arraigned:  
Cast towards the Door a ghastly Look,  
In dread of Sidrophel, and spoke.  
Madam, if but one Word be true  
Of all the Wizard had told you,  
Or but one single Circumstance  
In all th' Apocryphal Romance,  
May dreadful Earthquakes swallow down  
This Vessel, that is all your own;  
Or may the Heaven's fall, and cover  
These Relics of your constant Lover.  
You have provided well, quoth she,  
(I thank you) for yourself and me;  
And shown your Presbyterian Wits  
Jump punctual with the Jesuits.  
A most compendious way and civil,  
At once to cheat the World, the Devil,  
And Heaven and Hell, yourselves and ●hose  
On whom you vainly think t' impose.  
Why then (quoth he) may Hell surprise.  
That trick (said she) will not pass twice:  
I've learned how far I'm to believe  
Your pinning Oaths upon your Sleeve.  
But there's a better way of Clearing  
What you would prove, than downright Swearing;  
For if you have performed the Feat,  
The Blows are visible as yet  
Enough to serve for satisfaction  
Of nicest scruples in the Action.  
And if you can produce those Knobs,  
Although th' are but the Witche's Drubs,  
I'll pass them all upon account,  
As if your natural self had done't.  
Provided that they pass th' Opinion  
Of able Juries of old Women,  
Who, used to judge all matt'r of Facts  
For Bellies, may do so for Backs.   

Madam, (quoth he) your Love's a Million,  
To do is less than to be willing,  
As I am, were it in my power,  
T' obey what you command, and more.  
But for performing what you bid,  
I thank you as much as if I did.  
You know I ought to have a care  
To keep my Wounds from taking Air:  
For Wounds in those that are all Heart  
Are dangerous in any Part.   

I find (quoth she) my Goods and Chattels  
Are like to prove but mere drawn Battles;  
For still the longer we contend,  
We are but farther off the end.  
But granting now we should agree,  
What is it you expect from me?  
Your plighted Faith (quoth he) and Word  
You passed in Heaven on Record,  
Where all Contracts, to have and t' hold,  
Are everlastingly enrolled.  
And if 'tis counted Treason, here  
To race Records, 'tis much more there.  
Quoth she, There are no Bargains driven  
Nor Marriages clapped up in Heaven:  
And that's the reason, as some guess,  
There is no Heaven in Marriages;  
Two things that naturally press  
Too narrowly, to be at ease.  
Their business there is only Love,  
Which Marriage is not like t' improve.  
Love, that's too generous, t' abide  
To be against its Nature tied:  
For where 'tis of itself inclined,  
It breaks loose when it is confined;  
And, like the Soul, its harbourer,  
Debarred the freedom of the Air,  
Disdains against its will to stay,  
But struggles out, and flies away:  
And therefore never can comply,  
T' endure the Matrimonial tye,  
That binds the Female and the Male,  
Where th' one is but the other's Bail;  
Like Roman Gaolers, when they slept,  
Chained to the Prisoners they kept.  
Of which the True and Faithfullest Lover  
Gives best security to suffer.   

Marriage is but a Beast, some say,  
That carries double in foul way;  
And therefore 'tis not to b' admired  
It should so suddenly be tired:  
A Bargain at a venture made  
Between two Part'ners in a Trade,  
(For what's inferred by T' have and t' hold,  
But something past away, and sold?)  
That as it makes but one of two,  
Reduces all things else as low:  
And at the best is but a Mart  
Between the one and th' other part,  
That on the Marriage-day is paid,  
Or hour of Death, the Bet it laid.  
And all the rest of Bett'r or worse  
Both are but losers out of Purse.  
For when upon their ungot Heirs  
Th' entail themselves, and all that's theirs,  
What blinder Bargain e'er was driven,  
Or Wager laid at six and seven?  
To pass themselves away, and turn  
Their Child's Tenants ere th' are born?  
Beg one another Idiot  
To Guardians, ere they are begot;  
Or ever shall, perhaps, by th' one,  
Who's bound to vouch 'em for his own,  
Though got b' Implicit Generation,  
And General Club of all the Nation:  
For which she's fortified no less  
Than all the Island, with four Seas  
Exacts the Tribute of her dower  
In ready Insolence and Power;  
And makes him pass away, to Have  
And Hold, to her, himself, her slave,  
More wretched than an Ancient Villain,  
Condemned to Drudgery and Tilling;  
While all he does upon the By,  
She is not bound to justify,  
Nor at her proper cost and charge  
Maintain the Feats he does at large.  
Such hideous Sots were those obedient  
Old Vassals to their Lady's Regent;  
To give the Cheats the Eldest hand  
In Foul Play, by the Laws o' th' Land;  
For which so many a legal Cuckold  
Has been run down in Courts, and truckled.  
A Law that most unjustly yokes  
All Johns of Styles to joan's of Nokes,  
Without distinction of Degree,  
Condition, Age, or Quality;  
Admits no Power of Revocation,  
Nor valuable Consideration,  
Nor Writ of Error, nor Reverse  
Of Judgement passed For better or worse;  
Will not allow the Privileges  
That Beggars challenge under Hedges,  
Who, when th' are grieved, can make dead Horses  
Their Spiritual Judges of Divorces;  
While nothing else but Rem in Re,  
Can set the proudest wretches free:  
A Slavery beyond enduring,  
But that 'tis of their own procuring.  
As Spiders never seek the Fly,  
But leave him, of himself t' apply:  
So men are by themselves betrayed,  
To quit the freedom they enjoyed,  
And run their Necks into a Noose,  
They'd break 'em after, to break loose.  
As some, whom Death would not depart,  
Have done the Feat themselves by Art.  
Like Indian-Widows, gone to bed  
In flaming Curtains to the Dead:  
And Men as often dangled for't,  
And yet will never leave the Sport.   

Nor do the Ladies want excuse  
For all the Stratagems they use,  
To gain th' advantage of the Set,  
And lurch the Amorous Rook and Cheat.  
For, as a Pythagorean Soul  
Runs through all Beasts, and Fish, and Fowl,  
And has a smack of every one;  
So Love does, and has ever done.  
And therefore, though 'tis ne'er so fond,  
Takes strangely to the Vagabond.  
'Tis but an Ague that's reversed,  
Whose hot fit takes the Patient first,  
That after burns with cold as much  
As Ir'n in Greenland does the touch;  
Melts in the Furnace of desire,  
Like Glass, that's but the Ice of Fire;  
And when his heat of Fancy's over,  
Becomes as hard and frail a Lover.  
For when he's with Love-powder laden,  
And Primed and Cocked by Miss, or Madam,  
The smallest sparkle of an Eye  
Gives Fire to his Artillery;  
And off the loud Oaths go, but while  
Th' are in the very Act, recoil.  
Hence 'tis, so few dare take their chance  
Without a separate maintenance:  
And Widows, who have tried one Lover,  
Trust none again, till th' have made over.  
Or if they do, before they marry,  
The Foxes weigh the Geese they carry:  
And e'er they venture o'er a stream,  
Know how to size themselves and them.  
Whence witty'st Ladies aways choose  
To undertake the heaviest Goose.  
For now the World is grown so wary,  
That few of either Sex dare marry,  
But rather trust on tick t' Amours,  
The Cross and Pile for Bett'r or Worse:  
A Mode that is held honourable,  
As well as French and fashionable.  
For when it falls out for the best,  
Where both are incommoded least,  
In Soul and Body two unite,  
To make up one Hermaphrodite;  
Still Amorous, and Fond, and Billing,  
Like Philip and Mary on a Shilling,  
Th' have more Punctilios and Caprices  
Between the Petticoat and Breeches,  
More petulant Extravagancies,  
Then Poets make 'em in Romances.  
Though, when the Heroes 'spouse the Dames,  
We here no more of Charms and Flames:  
For than their late attracts decline,  
And turn as eager as Pricked Wine;  
And all their Catterwaulling tricks,  
In earnest to as jealous Piques:  
Which th' Ancients wisely signified,  
By th' yellow Mantoes of the Bride.  
For Jealousy is but a kind  
Of Clap and Grincam of the Mind,  
The natural effect of Love,  
As other Flames and Aches prove:  
But all the mischief is, the doubt  
On whose account they first broke out.  
For though Chineses go to Bed,  
And lie in in their Lady's stead,  
And for the pains they took before,  
Are nursed and pampered to do more:  
Our Green-men do it worse, when th' hap  
To fall in labour of a Clap;  
Both lay the Child to one another:  
But who's the Father, who the Mother,  
'Tis hard to say in Multitudes,  
Or who imported the French Goods.  
But Health and Sickness b'ing all one,  
Which both engaged before to own,  
And are not with their Bodies bound  
To Worship only when th' are sound;  
Both give and take their equal shares  
Of all they suffer by false Wares:  
A Fate no Lover can divert  
With all his caution, Wit, and Art.  
For 'tis in vain to think to guests  
At Women by Appearances,  
That Paint and Patch their Imperfections  
Of Intellectual Complexions,  
And daub their Tempers o'er with Washeses  
As artificial as their Faces;  
Wear under Vizard-Masks their Talents  
And Mother Wits before their Gallants;  
Until th' are hampered in the Noose,  
Too fast to dream of breaking loose:  
When all the Flaws they strove to hide  
Are made unready, with the Bride,  
That with her Wedding-clotheses undresses  
Her Complaisance and Gentilesses;  
Tries all her Arts, to take upon her  
The Government from th' easy owner,  
Until the Wretch is glad to wave  
His lawful Right, and turn her Slave;  
Finds all his Having, and his Holding,  
Reduced t' eternal Noise and Scolding,  
The Conjugal Petard, that tears  
Down all Portcullises of Ears,  
And makes the Volley of one Tongue  
For all their Leathern Shields too strong,  
When only armed with Noise and Nails,  
The Female Silkworms ride the Males,  
Transformed 'em into Rams and Goats,  
Like Sirens with their charming Notes,  
Sweet as a Screech-Owl's Senerade,  
Or those enchanting murmurs made  
By th' Husband Mandrake and the Wife,  
Both buried (like themselves) alive.   

Quoth he, these Reasons are but strains  
Of wanton, overheated Brains,  
Which Ralliers in their Wit or Drink  
Do rather wheedle with, than think.  
Man was not Man in Paradise,  
Until he was Created twice,  
And had his better half, His Bride,  
Carved from th' Original, his side,  
T' amend his Natural defects,  
And perfect his recruited Sex,  
Enlarge his Breed, at once, and lessen  
The Pains and Labour of increasing,  
By changing them for other cares,  
As by his dried up-Paps appears.  
His Body, that stupendious Frame,  
Of all the World the Anagram,  
Is of two equal parts compact  
In Shape and Symmetry exact.  
Of which the Left and Female side  
Is to the Manly Right a Bride;  
Both joined together with such Art,  
That nothing else but Death can part.  
Those Heavenly attracts of yours, your Eyes,  
And Face, that all the World surprise,  
That dazzle all that look upon ye,  
And scorch all other Ladies Tawny;  
Those ravishing and charming Graces,  
Are all made up of two Half Faces,  
That in a Mathematic Line,  
Like those in other Heavens, join.  
Of which if either grew alone,  
'Twould fright as much to look upon:  
And so would that sweet Bud, your Lip,  
Without the other's fellowship.  
Our Noblest Senses act by Pairs,  
Two Eyes to see, to hear two Ears;  
Th' Intelligencers of the Mind,  
To wait upon the Soul designed.  
But those that serve the Body alone,  
Are single and confined to one.  
The World is but two Parts, that meet,  
And close at th' Aequinoctial, fit;  
And so are all the Works of Nature,  
Stamped with her signature on Matter;  
Which all her Creatures, to a Leaf,  
Or smallest Blade of Grass, receive.  
All which sufficiently declare  
How entirely Marriage is her care,  
The only method that she uses,  
In all the wonders she produces.  
And those that take their rules from her,  
Can never be deceived, nor err.  
For what secures the Civil Life  
But pawns of Children and a Wife;  
That lie, like Hostages, at stake,  
To pay for all Men undertake?  
To whom it is as Necessary,  
As to be born and breath, to marry;  
So Universal, all Mankind  
In nothing else is of one mind.  
For in what stupid Age, or Nation,  
Was Marriage ever out of Fashion?  
Unless among the Amazons,  
Or Vestal Friars, and Cloister'd Nuns,  
Or Stoics, who to bar the Freaks  
And loose Excesses of the Sex,  
Preposterously would have all Women  
Turned up to all the World in common.  
Though Men would find such mortal Feuds  
In sharing of their public Goods,  
'Twould put them to more charge of Lives,  
Than th' are supplied with now by Wives;  
Until they Graze, and wear their clothes,  
As Beasts do, of their Native Growths:  
For simple wearing of their Horns,  
Will not suffice to serve their turns.  
For what can we pretend t' inherit,  
Unless the Marriage-deed will bear it?  
Could claim no Right to Lands or Rents,  
But for our Parents settlements.  
Had been but younger Sons o' th' Earth,  
Debarred it all, but for our Birth.  
What Honours, or Estates of Peers  
Could be preserved but by their Heirs?  
And what security maintains  
Their Right and Title, but the Banes?  
What Crowns could be Hereditary,  
If greatest Monarches did not marry,  
And with their Consorts consummate  
Their weightiest Interest of State?  
For all th' Amours of Princes are  
But Guarranties of Peace or War.  
Or what but Marriage has a Charm,  
The Rage of Empires to disarm,  
Make Blood and Desolation cease,  
And Fire and Sword unite in Peace,  
When all their fierce contests for Forage  
Conclude in Articles of Marriage?  
Nor does the Genial Bed provide  
Less for the Interests of the Bride;  
Who else had not the least Pretence  
T' as much as Due Benevolence;  
Could no more Title take upon her  
To Virtue, Quality, and Honour,  
Than Ladies Errand, unconfined,  
And Feme-Coverts to all Mankind.  
All Women would be of one piece,  
The virtuous Matron, and the Miss;  
The Nymphs of chaste Diana's Train,  
The same with those in Lewkner's-lane;  
But for the difference Marriage makes  
'Twixt Wives, and Ladies of the Lakes.  
Besides, the joys of Place and Birth,  
The Sex's Paradise on Earth;  
A privilege so sacred held,  
That none will to their Mothers yield;  
But rather than not go before,  
Abandon Heaven at the Door.  
And if th' indulgent Law allows  
A greater freedom to the Spouse;  
The reason is, because the Wife  
Runs greater hazards of her Life;  
Is trusted with the Form and Matter  
Of all Mankind by careful Nature.  
Where Man brings nothing but the Stuff,  
She frames the wondrous Fabric of:  
Who therefore, in a straight, may freely  
Demand the Clergy of her Belly,  
And make it save her, the same way,  
It seldom misses to betray.  
Unless both Parties wisely enter  
Into the Liturgy-Indenture.  
And though some fits of small contest  
Sometimes fall out among the Best,  
That is no more than every Lover  
Does from his Hackney-Lady suffer,  
That makes no Breach of Faith and Love,  
But rather (sometime) serves t' improve.  
For, as in Running, every Pace  
Is but between two Legs a Race,  
In which both do their uttermost  
To get before, and win the Post;  
Yet when th' are at their race's ends,  
Th' are still as kind and constant friends,  
And to relieve their weariness,  
By turns give one another ease:  
So all those false Alarms of strife  
Between the Husband and the Wife,  
And little Quarrels, often prove  
To be but new recruits of Love.  
When those wh' are always kind or coy,  
In time must either Tire, or Cloy.  
Nor are their loudest Clamours more,  
Than as th' are relished, Sweet, or Sour:  
Like Music, that proves bad, or good,  
According as 'tis understood.  
In all Amours a Lover burns,  
With Frowns, as well as Smiles, by turns  
And Hearts have been as oft with sullen,  
As charming looks, surprised and stolen.  
Then why should more bewitching Clamour  
Some Lovers not as much enamour?  
For Discords make the sweetest Airs,  
And Curses are a kind of Prayers,  
Too slight Alloys for all those grand  
Felicities by Marriage gained.  
For nothing else has power to settle  
Th' interests of Love perpetual.  
An Act and Deed that makes one Heart  
Become fewer Counterpart,  
And passes Fines on Faith and Love,  
Enrolled and Registered above,  
To seal the slippery knot of Vows,  
Which nothing else but Death can lose.  
And what Security too strong  
To guard that gentle Heart from wrong,  
That to its Friend is glad to pass  
Itself away, and all it has;  
And, like an Anchorite, gives over  
This World, for th' Heaven of a Lover?   

I grant (quoth she) there are some few  
Who take that course, and find it true:  
But Millions, whom the same does sentence  
To Heaven b' another way, Repentance.  
Love's Arrows are but shot at Rovers,  
Though all they hit they turn to Lovers.  
And all the weighty consequents  
Depend upon more blind events  
Than Gamesters, when they play a Set  
With greatest cunning at Piquet,  
Put out with caution, but take in  
They know not what, unsight-unseen.  
For what do Lovers, when th' are fast  
In one another's Arms embraced,  
But strive to plunder, and convey.  
Each other, like a Prize, away?  
To change the property of selves,  
As sucking Children are by Elves?  
And if they use their Persons so,  
What will they to their Fortunes do?  
Their Fortunes! the perpetual aims  
Of all their Ecstasies and Flames.  
For when the Money's on the Book,  
And All my Worldly Goods— but spoke;  
(The Formal Livery and Seisin  
That puts a Lover in possession)  
To that alone the Bridegroom's wedded,  
The Bride a Flame that's superseded.  
To that their Faith is still made good,  
And all the Oaths to us they vowed,  
For when we once resign our Powers,  
W' have nothing left we can call ours.  
Our Money's now become the Miss,  
Of all your Lives and Services;  
And we forsaken, and Postponed,  
But Bawds to what before we owned.  
Which as it made ye at first Gallant us,  
So now hires others to supplant us,  
Until 'tis all turned out of doors,  
(As we had been) for new Amours.  
For what did ever Heiress yet  
By being born to Lordships get?  
When the more Lady sh' is of Manors,  
She's but exposed to more Trepanners,  
Pays for their Projects and Designs,  
And for her own destruction Fines,  
And does but tempt them with her Riches,  
To use her as the devil does Witches;  
Who takes it for a special Grace,  
To be their Cully for a space,  
That, when the time's expired, the Drazels  
For ever may become his Vassals.  
So she, bewitched by Rooks and Spirits,  
Betrays herself, and all sh' inherits  
Is bought and sold, like stolen Goods,  
By Pimps, and Matchmakers, and Bawds:  
Until they force her to convey,  
And steal the Thief himself away.  
These are the everlasting Fruits  
Of all your passionate Love-suits,  
Th' effects of all your amorous Fancies  
To Portions and Inheritances,  
Your Lovesick Raptures for Fruition  
Of Dowry, Jointure, and Tuition;  
To which you make Address and Courtship,  
And with your Bodies strive to Worship,  
That th' Infant's Fortunes may partake  
Of Love too for the Mother's sake.  
For these, you play at Purposes,  
And love your Loves with A's and B's:  
For these, at Beast and L'hombre woo,  
And play for Love and Money too;  
Strive who shall be the ablest Man  
At right Gallanting of a Fan,  
And who the most Gently bred  
At sucking of a Vizard Bede,  
How best t' accost us in all Quarters  
TO our question-and-command New Garters,  
And solidly discourse upon  
All sorts of Dresses Pro and Con.  
For there's no Mystery nor Trade,  
But in the Art of Love is made.  
And when you have more Debts to pay  
Than Michaelmas and Lady-day,  
And no way possible to do't,  
But Love and Oaths and restless Suit,  
To us ye apply, to pay the Scores  
Of all your cullyed past Amours;  
Act o'er your Flames and Darts again,  
And charge us with your wounds and pain,  
Which others influences long since  
Have charmed your Noses with, and Shins;  
For which the Surgeon is unpaid,  
And like to be, without our aid.  
Lord! what an Amorous thing is Want!  
How Debts and Mortgages inchant!  
What Graces must that Lady have,  
That can from Executions save!  
What Charms, that can reverse Extent,  
And null Decree and Exigent!  
What Magical Attracts and Graces,  
That can redeem from Scire facias;  
From Bonds and Statutes can discharge,  
And from Contempts of Courts enlarge!  
These are the highest Excellencies  
Of all our true or false Pretences,  
And you would damn yourselves, and swear  
As much t' an Hostess Dowager,  
Grown fat and pursy by Retail  
Of Pots of Beer, and Bottled Ale;  
And find her fitter for your turn,  
For Fat is wondrous apt to burn;  
Who at your Flames would soon take Fire,  
Relent, and melt to your desire,  
And, like a Candle in the Socket,  
Dissolve her Graces int' your Pocket,   

By this time 'twas grown dark and late,  
When th' heard a knocking at the Gate,  
Laid on in haste with such a powder,  
The blows grew louder still and louder.  
Which Hudibras, as if th' had been  
Bestowed as freely on his Skin,  
Expounding by his inward Light,  
Or rather more Prophetic fright,  
To be the Wizard, come to search,  
And take him napping in the lurch,  
Turned pale as Ashes, or a Clout;  
But why, or wherefore, is a doubt:  
For Men will tremble, and turn paler,  
With too much, or too little Valour.  
His Heart laid on, as if it tried  
To force a passage through his side,  
Impatient (as he vowed) to wait 'em,  
But in a Fury to fly at 'em;  
And therefore beat, and laid about,  
To find a cranny to creep out.  
But she, who saw in what a taking  
The Knight was by his furious Quaking,  
Undaunted, cried, Courage, Sir Knight,  
Know I'm resolved to break no Rite  
Of Hospitality t' a Stranger,  
But to secure you out of danger,  
Will here myself stand Sentinel,  
To guard this Pass 'gainst Sidrophel.  
Women, you know, do seldom fail  
To make the stoutest Men turn tail;  
And bravely scorn to turn their Backs.  
Upon the desperat'st Attacks.  
At this the Knight grew resolute  
As Iron-side or Hardy-knute;  
His fortitude began to rally,  
And out he cried aloud, to sally.  
But she besought him to convey  
His Courage rather out o'th' way,  
And lodge in Ambush on the Floor,  
Or fortified behind a Door,  
That if the Enemy should enter,  
He might relieve her in th' Adventure.   

Mean while, they knocked against the Door,  
As fierce as at the Gate before;  
Which made the Renegado Knight  
Relapse again t' his former fright.  
He thought it desperate to stay  
Till th' Enemy had forced his way,  
But rather post himself, to serve  
The Lady, for a fresh Reserve.  
His Duty was not to dispute,  
But what sh' had ordered execute:  
Which he resolved in haste t' obey,  
And therefore stoutly marched away;  
And all he encountered fell upon,  
Though in the dark, and all alone.  
Till Fear, that braver Feats performs  
Than ever Courage dared in Arms,  
Had drawn him up before a Pass,  
To stand upon his Guard, and face.  
This he courageously invaded,  
And having entered, Barricadoed;  
Ensconced himself as formidable  
As could be underneath a Table;  
Where he lay down in Ambush close,  
T' expect the arrival of his Foes.  
Few minutes had he lain perdue,  
To guard his desperate Avenue,  
Before he heard a dreadful shout,  
As loud as putting to the Rout;  
With which impatiently alarmed,  
He fancied th' Enemy had stormed,  
And after entering Sidrophel  
Was fallen upon the Guards pellmell.  
He therefore sent out all his Senses,  
To bring him in Intelligences.  
Which Vulgars', out of ignorance,  
Mistake for falling in a Trance:  
But those that trade in Geomancy,  
Affirm to be the strength of Fancy:  
In which the Lapland-magis deal,  
And things incredible reveal.  
Mean while the Foe beat up his Quarters,  
And stormed the Outworks of his Fortress.  
And as another of the same  
Degree, and Party, in Arms and Fame,  
That in the same Cause had engaged,  
And War with equal conduct waged,  
By venturing only but to thrust  
His Head a Span beyond his Post,  
be a Gen'ral of the Cavaliers  
Was drag▪ d through a Window by th' Ears:  
So he was served in his Redoubt,  
And by the other end pulled out.   

Soon as they had him at their mercy,  
They put him to the Cudgel fiercely,  
As if they scorned to trade and barter,  
By giving or by taking Quarter:  
They stoutly on his Quarters laid,  
Until his Scouts came in t' his aid.  
For when a Man is passed his Sense,  
There's no way to reduce him thence,  
But twindging him by th' Ears or Nose,  
Or laying on of heavy Blows,  
And if that will not do the Deed,  
To burning with Hot Irons proceed.   

No sooner was he come t' himself,  
But on his Neck a sturdy Elf  
Clapped in a trice his cloven Hoof,  
And thus attacked him with Reproof.  
Mortal, thou art betrayed to us  
B' our Friend, thy evil Genius,  
Who for thy horrid Perjuries,  
Thy Breach of Faith, and turning Lies,  
The brethren's Privilege (against  
The Wicked) on themselves, the Saints,  
Has here thy wretched Carcase sent  
For just Revenge and punishment;  
Which thou hast now no way to lessen,  
But by an open, free Confession.  
For if we catch thee failing once,  
'twill fall the heavier on thy Bones,  
What made thee venture to betray,  
And filch the lady's Heart away?  
To Spirit her to Matrimony—?  
That which contracts all Matches, Money.  
It was th' enchantment of her Riches,  
That made my apply t' your Croney Witches:  
That in return would pay th' expense,  
The Wear-and-tear of Conscience;  
Which I could have patched up, and turned,  
For th' hundredth part of what I earned.  
Didst thou not love her then? speak true.  
No more (quoth he) than I love you.  
How wouldst the have used her, and her Money?  
First, turned her up to Alimony;  
And laid her Dowry out in Law,  
To null her Jointure with a Flaw,  
Which I beforehand had agreed  
T' have put, of purpose, in the Deed;  
And bar her Widow's-making-over  
T' a Friend in Trust, or private Lover.  
What made thee pick and choose her out,  
T' employ their Sorceries about?  
That which makes Gamesters play with those  
Who have least Wit, and most to lose.  
But didst thou scourge thy Vessel thus,  
As thou hast damned thyself to us?  
I see you take me for an Ass:  
'Tis true, I thought the Trick would pass  
Upon a Woman well enough,  
As 't has been often found by Proof;  
Whose Humours are not to be won  
But when they are imposed upon.  
For Love approves of all they do  
That stand for Candidates, and woo.  
Why didst thou forge those shameful Lies,  
Of Bears and Witches in Disguise?  
That is no more than Authors give  
The Rabble credit to Believe;  
A Trick of Following their Leaders,  
To entertain their Gentle Readers.  
And we have now no other way  
Of passing all we do or say:  
Which when 'tis natural and true,  
Will be believed b' a very few.  
Beside the danger of offence,  
The fatal enemy of Sense.  
Why didst thou choose that cursed Sin,  
Hypocrisy, to set up in?  
Because it is the thriving'st calling,  
The only Saints-Bell that rings all in,  
In which all Church●s are concerned,  
And is the easiest to be learned.  
For no degrees, unless th' employed,  
Can ever gain much, or enjoy't.  
A Gift that is not only able  
To domineer among the Rabble,  
But by the Law's empowered to rout  
And awe the greatest that stand out.  
Which few hold forth against, for fear  
Their hands should slip, and come too near.  
For no Sin else among the Saints  
Is taught so tenderly against.  
What made thee break thy Plighted Vows?  
That which makes others break a House,  
And hang, and scorn ye all, before  
Endure the Plague of being poor.  
Quoth he, I see you have more Tricks  
Than all our doting Politics,  
That are grown old, and out of Fashion,  
Compared with your new Reformation:  
That we must come to School to you,  
To learn your more refined, and New.  
Quoth he, If you will give me leave  
To tell you what I now perceive,  
You'd find yourself an arrant Chouse,  
If ye were but at a Meetinghouse.  
'Tis true, Quoth he, we ne'er come there,  
Because w' have let them out by th' year.  
Truly, quoth he, you can't imagine  
What wondrous things they will engage in:  
That as your Fellow-Fiends in Hell  
Were Angels all before they fell;  
So you are like to be again  
Compared with th' Angels of us Men.  
Quoth he, I am resolved to be  
Thy Scholar in this Mystery;  
And therefore first desire to know  
Some Principles on which you go.  
What makes a Knave a Child of God,  
And one of us?— A Livelihood.  
What renders Beating out of Brains  
And Murder Godliness?— Great Gains.  
What's tender Conscience?— 'Tis a Botch  
That will not bear the gentlest touch,  
But breaking out, dispatches more  
Than th' Epidemical'st Plague-sore.  
What makes ye encroach upon our Trade,  
And damn all others?— To be paid.  
What's Orthodox and true Believing  
Against a Conscience?— A good Living.  
What makes Rebelling against Kings  
A Good Old Cause? Administring.  
What makes all Doctrines plain and clear?  
About Two hundred pounds a year.  
And that which was proved true before,  
Prove false again? Two hundred more.  
What makes the Breaking of all Oaths  
A holy Duty? Food and clothes.  
What Laws and Freedom, Persecution?  
B'ing out of Power, and Contribution.  
What makes a Church a Den of Thiefs?  
A Dean and Chapter, and White Sleeves.  
And what would serve, if those were gone,  
To make it Orthodox? Our own.  
What makes Morality a Crime,  
The most notorious of the Time?  
Morality, which both the Saints  
And Wicked too cry out against?  
'Cause Grace and Virtue are within  
Prohibited Degrees of Kin:  
And therefore no true Saint allows  
They should be suffered to espouse.  
For Saints can need no Conscience  
That with Morality dispense;  
As virtue's impious, when 'tis rooted  
In nature onel', and not imputed.  
But why the Wicked should do so,  
We neither know, nor care to do.  
What's Liberty of Conscience,  
I' th' Natural and Genuine Sense?  
'Tis to restore with more security  
Rebellion to its ancient Purity;  
And Christian Liberty reduce  
To th' elder Practice of the Jews.  
For a Large Conscience is all one,  
And signifies the same with None.   

It is enough (quoth he) for once,  
And has reprieved thy forfeit Bones,  
Nick Machiavelli had ne'er a Trick,  
(Though he gave's Name to our Old Nick)  
But was below the least of these,  
That pass i' th' World for Holiness.   

This said, the Furies and the Light  
In th' instant vanished out of sight;  
And left him in the dark alone,  
With stinks of Brimstone, and his own.   

The Queen of Night, whose large Command  
Rules all the Sea and half the Land,  
And over moist and crazy Brains  
In high Springtides at Midnight reigns,  
Was now declining to the West,  
To go to Bed and take her rest.  
When Hudibras, whose stubborn Blows  
Denied his Bones that soft repose,  
Lay still expecting worse and more,  
Stretched out at length upon the Floor;  
And though he shut his Eyes as fast  
As if h'had been to sleep his last,  
Saw all the Shapes that Fear or Wizards  
Do make the Devil wear for Vizards.  
And pricking up his Ears, to hark  
If he could hear too in the dark,  
Was first invaded with a Groan,  
And after, in a feeble Tone,  
These trembling words. Unhappy Wretch!  
What hast thou gotten by this Fetch?  
Or all thy Tricks in this New Trade,  
The Holy Brotherhood o' th' Blade?  
By Santring still on some Adventure,  
And growing to thy Horse a Centaur,  
To stuff thy Skin with swelling Knobs  
Of cruel and hard-wooded Drubs?  
For still th' haste had the worst on't yet,  
As well in Conquest as defeat.  
Night is the Sabbath of Mankind,  
To rest the Body and the Mind:  
Which now thou art denied to keep,  
And cure thy laboured Corpse with Sleep.  
The Knight, who heard the words, explained  
As meant to him this Reprimand,  
Because the Character did hit  
Point-blank upon his Case so fit;  
Believed it was some drolling Spirit  
That stayed upon the Guards that Night,  
And one of those h'had seen, and felt  
The Drubs he had so freely dealt.  
When, after a short Pause and Groan,  
The doleful Spirit thus went on.  
This 'tis t' engage with Dogs and Bears  
Pelmell together by the Ears;  
And after painful Bangs and Knocks,  
To lie in Limbo in the Stocks;  
And from the Pinnacle of Glory,  
Fall headlong into Purgatory:  
(Thought he, This Devil's full of Malice,  
That on my late Disasters Rallies.)  
Condemned to Whipping, but declined it,  
By being more Heroick-minded;  
And at a Riding handled worse,  
With Treats more slovenly and course;  
Engaged with Friends in stubborn Wars,  
And hot Disputes with Conjurers;  
And when the hadst bravely won the day,  
Wast fain to steal thyself away.  
(I see, thought he, this shameless Elf  
Would fain steal me too from myself,  
That impudently dares to own  
What I have suffered for and done:)  
And now but venturing to betray,  
Hast met with Vengeance the same way.  
Thought he, How does the Devil know  
What 'twas that I designed to do?  
His Office of Intelligence,  
His Oracles are ceased long since:  
And he knows nothing of the Saints,  
But what some treacherous Spy acquaints.  
This is some perifogging Fiend,  
Some Under-Door-keeper's Friend's Friend,  
That undertakes to understand,  
And juggles at the Second hand;  
And now would pass for Spirit Po,  
And all men's dark Concerns foreknow.  
I think I need not fear him for't:  
These Rallying Devils do no hurt.  
With that he roused his drooping Heart,  
And hastily cried out, What art?  
A Wretch (quoth he) whom want of Grace  
Has brought to this unhappy place.  
I do believe thee, quoth the Knight,  
Thus far I'm sure th' art in the Right;  
And know what 'tis that troubles thee,  
Better than thou hast guessed of me.  
Thou art some paltry Blackguard Spirit,  
Condemned to drudgery in the Night,  
That hast no work to do in th' House,  
Nor Halfpenny to drop in Shoes:  
Without the raising of which Sum,  
You dare not be so troublesome,  
To pinch the Slatterns black and blue,  
For leaving you their Work to do.  
This is your business, good Pug Robin,  
And your Diversion dull Dry Bobbing;  
T' entice fanatics in the Dirt,  
And wash 'em clean in Ditches for't.  
Of which conceit you are so proud,  
At every Jest you laugh aloud.  
As now you would have done by me,  
But that I barred your Raillery.   

Sir, (quoth the Voice) ye are no such Sophy  
As you would have the World judge of ye,  
If you design to weigh our Talents  
I' th' Standard of your own false Balance,  
Or think it possible to know  
Us Ghosts as well as we do you:  
We, who have been the everlasting  
Companions of your Drubs and Basting,  
And never left you in Contest  
With Male or Female, Man or Beast,  
But proved as true t'ye and entire  
In all adventures as your Squire,  
Quoth he, That may be said as true  
By th' idlest Pug of all your Crew:  
For none could have betrayed us worse  
Than those Allies of ours and yours.  
But I have sent him for a Token  
To your Low-country Hogen Mogen,  
To whose Infernal Shores I hope  
He'll swing like Skippers in a Rope.  
And if ye have been more just to me  
(As I am apt to think) than he,  
I am afraid it is as true,  
What th' Ill-affected say of you,  
YE have 'spous'd the Covenant and Cause,  
By holding up your Cloven Paws.  
Sir, quoth the Voice, 'tis true, I grant,  
We made and took the Covenant.  
But that no more concerns the Cause,  
Then other Perj'ries do the Laws,  
Which when they're proved in open Court,  
Wear wooden Peccadillo's fort.  
And that's the Reason Cov'nanters  
Held up their Hands, like Rogues at Bars.  
I see, quoth Hudibras, from whence  
These Scandals of the Saints commence,  
That are but natural Effects  
Of Satan's Malice, and his Sects,  
Those Spider-Saints, that hang by Threads  
Spun out of th' Entrails of their Heads.  
Sir, quoth the Voice, that may as true  
And properly be said of you;  
Whose Talents may compare with either,  
Or both the other put together.  
For all the Independents do  
Is only what you forced them to.  
You, who are not content alone  
With Tricks to put the Devil down,  
But must have Armies raised, to back  
The Gospel-work you undertake:  
As if Artillery, and Edge-tools  
Were th' only Engines to save Souls.  
While He, poor Devil, has no power  
By force to run down and devour;  
Has ne'er a Classis, cannot sentence  
To Stools or Poundage of Repentance;  
Is tied up only to Design,  
T' Entice, and Tempt, and Vndermine:  
In which you all his Arts outdo,  
And prove yourselves his Betters too.  
Hence 'tis Possessions do less evil  
Than mere Temptations of the Devil,  
Which all the horrid'st Actions done,  
Are charged in Courts of Law upon;  
Because unless you help the Elf,  
He can do little of himself:  
And therefore where he's best Possessed,  
Acts most against his Interest;  
Surprises none but those wh' have Priests  
To turn him out, and Exorcists,  
Supplied with Spiritual Provision,  
And Magazines of Ammunition,  
With Crosses, Relics, Crucifixes,  
Beads, Pictures, Rosaries, and Pixes,  
The Tools of working out Salvation  
By mere Mechanic Operation,  
With Holy Water, like a Sluice,  
To overflow all Avenues.  
But those wh' are utterly unarmed  
T' oppose his Entrance if he stormed,  
He never offers to suprize;  
Although his falsest Enemies;  
But is content to be their Drudge,  
And on their Errands glad to trudge.  
For where are all your Forfeitures  
Entrusted in safe hands, but ours?  
Who are but Jailers of the Holes  
And Dungeons where you clap up Souls;  
Like Vnder-keepers, turn the Keys  
TO your Mittimus Anathemaes;  
And never boggle to restore  
The Members you deliver o'er  
Upon Demand, with fairer Justice  
Than all your Covenanting trusties:  
Unless, to punish them the worse,  
You put them in the Secular Powers,  
And pass their Souls as some demise  
The same Estate in Mortgage twice,  
When to a Legal Vtlegation  
You turn your Excommunication,  
And for a Groat unpaied that's due,  
Distrain on Soul and Body too.   

Thought he, 'Tis no mean part of civil  
State-prudence to cajoul the Devil,  
And not to handle him too rough,  
When h'has us in his cloven Hoof.  
'Tis true, quoth he, that intercourse  
Has passed between your Friends and ours;  
That as you trust us in our way,  
To raise your Members, and to lay,  
We send you others of our own,  
Denounced to Hang themselves or Drown,  
Or, frighted with our Oratory,  
To leap down headlong many a story;  
Have used all means to propagate  
Your mighty interests of State,  
Laid out our Spiritual Gifts to further  
Your great designs of Rage and Murder.  
For if the Saints are named from Blood,  
We onel' have made that Title good:  
And if it were but in our power,  
We should not scruple to do more,  
And not be half a Soul behind  
Of all Dissenters of Mankind.  
Right, quoth the Voice, and as I scorn  
To be ungrateful in return  
Of all those kind good Offices,  
I'll free you out of this Distress,  
And set you down in safety, where,  
It is no time to tell you here.  
The Cock crows and the Morn draws on,  
When 'tis decreed I must be gone:  
And if I leave you here till day,  
You'll find it hard to get away.  
With that the Spirit groped about,  
To find th' enchanted Hero out,  
And tried with haste to lift him up;  
But found his Forlorn Hope, his Croop,  
Unserviceable with Kicks and Blows  
Received from hardned-hearted Foes.  
He thought to drag him by the Heels,  
Like Gresham Carts, with Legs for Wheels.  
But Fear, that soon cures those Sores,  
In danger of Relapse to worse,  
Came in t'assist him with its Aid,  
And up his sinking Vessel weighed.  
No sooner was he fit to trudge,  
But both made ready to dislodge.  
The Spirit horsed him like a Sack,  
Upon the Vehicle, his Back,  
And bore him headlong into th' Hall,  
With some few Rubs against the Wall.  
Where finding out the Postern locked,  
And th' Avenues as strongly blocked,  
H'attacked the Window, stormed the Glass,  
And in a moment gained the Pass,  
Through which he dragged the worsted Soldiers  
Fore-quarters out by th' Head and Shoulders;  
And cautiously began to scout,  
To find their Fellow-cattels out.  
Nor was it half a Minute's Quest,  
ere he retrieved the Champion's Beast,  
Tied to a Pale in stead of Rack,  
But ne'er a Saddle on his Back,  
Nor Pistols at the Saddlebow,  
Conveyed away the Lord knows how.  
He thought it was no time to stay,  
And let the Night too steal away,  
But in a trice advanced the Knight  
Upon the Bare Ridge bolt upright.  
And groping out for Ralpho 's Jade,  
He found the Saddle too was strayed,  
And in the place a Lump of Soap,  
On which he speedily leaped up;  
And turning to the Gate the Rein,  
He Kicked and Cudgelled on amain.  
While Hudibras, with equal haste,  
On both sides laid about as fast,  
And spurred as Jockeys use, to break,  
Or Padders, to secure a Neck.  
Where let us leave them for a time,  
And to their Churches turn our Rhyme;  
To hold forth their declining State,  
Which now come near an Even Rate.    

THE ARGUMENT OF THE SECOND CANTO Of the Third Part.  
The Saints engage in fierce Contests  
About their Carnal Interests;  
To share their Sacrilegious Preys,  
According to their Rates of Grace;  
Their various Frenzies to Reform,  
When Cromwell left them in a Storm:  
Till, in th' Effigy of RUMPS, the Rabble  
Burns all their Grandees of the Cabal.  
CANTO II.  

THE Learned write, An Insect Breeze  
Is but a Mongrel Prince of Bees,  
That falls, before a Storm, on Cows,  
And stings the Founders of his House;  
From whose corrupted Flesh that Breed  
Of Vermine did at first proceed.  
So, e'er the Storm of War broke out,  
Religion spawned a various Rout,  
Of Petulant Capricious Sects,  
The Maggots of Corrupted Texts,  
That first run all Religion down,  
And after every Swarm its own.  
For as the Persian Magis once  
Upon their Mothers got their Sons,  
Who were incapable t' enjoy  
That Empire any other way:  
So Presbyter begot the other  
Upon the Good Old Cause, his Mother,  
That bore them like the Devil's Dam,  
Whose Son and Husband are the same.  
And yet no natural Tie of Blood,  
Nor Interest for their common good,  
Could, when their Profits interfeared,  
Get Quater for each other's Beard.  
For when they thrived, they never fadged,  
But only by the ears engaged:  
Like Dogs that snarl about a Bone,  
And play together when th' have none.  
As by their truest Characters,  
Their constant Actions, plainly appears.   

Rebellion now began for lack  
Of Zeal and Plunder to grow slack;  
The Cause and Covenant to lessen,  
And Providence to b' out of Season:  
For now there was no more to purchase,  
O' th' King's Revenue and the Church's,  
But all divided, shared and gone,  
That used to urge the Brethren on.  
Which forced the Stubbornest for the Cause  
To cross the Cudgels to the Laws;  
That what by breaking them 't had gained,  
By their Support might be maintained:  
Like Thiefs, that in a Hemp-plot lie,  
Secured against the Hue-and-Cry.  
For Presbyter and Independent  
Were now turned Plaintiff Defendant,  
Laid out their Apostolic Functions  
On Carnal Orders and Injunctions,  
And all their Precious Gifts and Graces  
On Outlawries and Scire facias;  
At Michael ' s Term had many a Trial,  
Worse than the Dragon and St. Michael,  
Where thousands fell, in shape of Fees,  
Into the Bottomless Abyss.  
For when like Brethren and Friends,  
They came to share their Dividends,  
And every partner to possess  
His Church and State Joynt-Purchases,  
In which the Ablest Saint and Best  
Was named in Trust by all the rest,  
To pay their Money, and, instead  
Of every Brother, pass the Deed;  
He strait converted all his Gifts  
To pious Frauds and holy Shifts,  
And settled all the others Shares  
Upon his outward Man and's Heirs;  
Held all they claimed as Forfeit Lands,  
Delivered up into his hands,  
And past upon his Conscience,  
By Pre-intail of Providence;  
Impeached the rest for Reprobates,  
That had no Titles to Estates,  
But by their Spiritual Attaints  
Degraded from the Right of Saints.  
This being revealed, they now begun  
With Law and Conscience to fall on;  
And laid about as hot and Brainsick  
As th'utter Barrister of Swanswick;  
Engaged with Money-bags, as bold  
As men with Sandbags did of old;  
That brought the Lawyers in more Fees,  
Than all unsanctified trusties:  
Till he who had no more to show  
I' th' Case, received the overthrow;  
Or both sides having had the worst,  
They parted as they met at first.   

Poor Presbyter was now Reduced,  
Secluded, and Cashiered, and Chewsed,  
Turned out and Excommunicate  
From all Affairs of Church and State,  
Reformed t' a Reformado Saint,  
And glad to turn Itinerant,  
To strowl and teach from Town to Town,  
And those he had taught up Teach down,  
And make those Uses serve again  
Against the New-inlight'ned men,  
As fit as when at first they were  
Revealed against the Cavalier;  
Damn Anabaptist and Fanatic,  
As pat as Popish and Prelatic;  
And with as little variation,  
To serve for any Sect i' th' Nation.  
The Good Old Cause, which some believe  
To be the devil that tempted Eve  
With Knowledge, and does still invite  
The World to Mischief with New Light,  
Had store of Money in her Purse,  
When he took her for bett'r or worse;  
But now was grown Deformed and Poor,  
And fit to be turned out of Door.   

The Independents (whose first station  
Was in the Rear of Reformation,  
A Mongrel kind of Church-Dragoons,  
That served for Horse and Foot at once,  
And in the Saddle of one Steed  
The Saracen and Christian rid,  
Were Free of every Spiritual Order,  
To Preach, and Fight, and Pray, and Murder)  
No sooner got the Start to lurch  
Both Disciplines, of War and Church,  
And Providence enough to run  
The chief Commanders of 'em down,  
But carried on the War against  
The Common Enemy o' th' Saints;  
And in a while prevailed so far,  
To win of them the Game of War,  
And be at Liberty once more,  
T' Attack themselves as th' had before.   

For now there was no Foe in Arms,  
T' unite their Factions with Alarms,  
But all reduced and overcome,  
Except their worst, themselves at home,  
Wh ' had compassed all they Prayed, and Swore,  
And Fought, and Preached, and Plundered for,  
Subdued the Nation, Church and State,  
And all things but their Laws and Hate,  
But when they came to treat and transact,  
And share the spoils of all th' had ransacked,  
To Botch up what th' had torn and rend,  
Religion and the Government,  
They met no sooner, but prepared  
To pull down all the War had spared;  
Agreed in nothing but t' Abolish,  
Subvert, Extirpate, and Demolish.  
For Knaves and Fools b'ing near of Kin,  
As Dutch-Boors are t' a Sooterkin,  
Both Parties joined to do their best,  
To Damn the Public Interest;  
And Herded only in Consults  
To put by one another's Bolts,  
T' out-cant the Babylonian Labourers,  
At all their Dialects of Jabberers,  
And tug at both ends of the Saw,  
To tear down Government and Law.  
For, as two Cheats, that play one Game,  
Are both defeated of their Aim:  
So those who play a Game of State,  
And only Cavil in Debate,  
Although there's nothing lost nor won,  
The Public Business is undone,  
Which still the longer 'tis in doing,  
Becomes the surer way to Ruin.  
This when the Royalists perceived,  
(Who to their Faith as firmly cleaved,  
And owned the Right they had paid down  
So dearly for, The Church and Crown,)  
Th' united constanter, and Sided  
The more, the more their Foes divided.  
For though out-numbered, overthrown,  
And by the Fate of War run down;  
Their Duty never was defeated,  
Nor from their Oaths and Faith retreated.  
For Loyalty is still the same,  
Whether it win or lose the Game;  
True as a Dial to the Sun,  
Although it be not shined upon.  
But when these brethren in evil,  
Their Adversaries and the Devil,  
Began once more to show them Play,  
And hopes, at least, to have a day,  
They rallied in Parades of Woods,  
And unfrequented Solitudes,  
Convened at Midnight in Outhouses,  
T' appoint New-rising Rendezvouzes,  
And with a Pertinacy unmatched  
For new Recruits of Danger watched:  
No sooner was one Blow diverted,  
But up another Party started.  
And, as if Nature too in haste,  
To furnish out Supplies as fast,  
Before her time had turned Destruction  
TO a new and numerous Production;  
No sooner those were overcome,  
But up rose others in their Room,  
That like the Christian Faith, increased  
The more, the more they were Suppressed:  
Whom neither Chains nor Transportation,  
Proscription, Sale, nor Confiscation,  
Nor all the desperate events  
Of former tried Experiments,  
Nor Wounds could terrify, nor Mangling  
To leave off Loyalty and Dangling,  
Nor Death (with all his Bones) affright  
From venturing to maintain the Right,  
From staking Life and Fortune down  
'Gainst all together, for the Crown;  
But kept the Title of their Cause  
From Forfeiture, like Claims in Laws:  
And proved no Prosperous Usurpation  
Can ever settle on the Nation,  
Until, in spite of Force and Treason,  
They put their Loy'lty in Possession;  
And by their Constancy and Faith,  
Destroyed the Mighty men of Gath.   

Tossed in a furious Hurricane,  
Did Oliver give up his Reign;  
And was believed, as well by Saints,  
As Moral men and Miscreants,  
To Founder in the Stygian Ferry,  
Until he was retrieved by Sterry:  
Who, in a false erroneous Dream,  
Mistook the New Jerusalem,  
Profanely, for th' Apocryphal,  
False Heaven at the End o' th' Hall;  
Whether it was decreed by Fate,  
His Precious Relics to Translate.  
So Romulus was seen before  
B' as Orthhodox a Senator;  
From whose Divine Illumination  
He stole the Pagan Revelation.   

Next him his Son and Heir Apparent  
Succeeded, though a Lame Vicegerent:  
Who first laid by the Parliament,  
The only Crutch on which he leaned;  
And then Sunk underneath the State,  
That road him above Horseman's Weight.   

And now the Saints began their Reign,  
For which th' had yearned so long in vain,  
And felt such Bowel-Hankerings,  
To see an Empire all of Kings,  
Delivered from th' Egyptian Awe  
Of Justice, Government, and Law,  
And free t' erect what Spiritual Cantons  
Should be revealed, or Gospel Hans-Towns,  
To Edify upon the Ruins  
Of John of Leyden's old Out-going,  
Who for a Weathercock hung up  
Upon their Mother-Churche's Top,  
Was made a Type by Providence  
Of all their Revelations since;  
And now fulfilled by his Successors,  
Who eqally mistook their Measures:  
For when they came to shape the Model,  
Not one could fit another's Noddle;  
But found their Light and Gifts more wide  
From Fadging then th' Unsanctified;  
While every individual Brother  
Strove hand to fist against another,  
And still the Maddest and most Cracked,  
Were found the Busiest to Transact.  
For though most Hands dispatch apace  
And make light work, (the Proverb says)  
Yet many different Intellects  
Are found t' have contrary Effects;  
And many Heads t' obstruct Intrigues,  
As slowest Infects have most Legs.   

Some were for setting up a King,  
But all the rest for no such thing,  
Unless King Jesus: Others tampered  
For Fleetwood, Desbrough, and Lambert;  
Some for the Rump, and some more crafty,  
For Agitatours and the Safety;  
Some for the Gospel, and Massacres  
Of Spiritual Affidavit-makers,  
That swore to any Humane Regence  
Oaths of Supremacy and Allegiance,  
Yea though the Ablest swearing Saint,  
That vouched the Bulls o'th' Covenant:  
Others for pulling down the High places  
Of Synods and Provincial Classes,  
That used to make such hostile Inroads  
Upon the Saints, like Bloody Nimrods':  
Some for Fulfilling Prophecies,  
And th' Extirpation of Excise;  
And some against th' Egyptian Bondage  
Of Holy days, and paying Poundage:  
Some for the cutting down of Groves,  
And rectifying Baker's Loaves;  
And some for finding out Expedients  
Against the Slavery of Obedience.  
Some were for Gospel-Ministers,  
And some for Read-Coat Seculars,  
As men most fit t' hold forth the Word,  
And wield the one and th' other Sword,  
Some were for carrying on the Work  
Against the Pope, and some the Turk:  
Some for engaging to suppress  
The Camisado of Surplices,  
The Gifts and Dispensations hindered,  
And Turned to th' Outward man the Inward;  
More proper for the cloudy Night  
Of Popery, than Gospel-Light.  
Others were for Abolishing  
That Tool of Matrimony, a Ring,  
With which th' unsanctified Bridegroom  
Is married only to a Thumb;  
(As wise as Ringing of a Pig.  
That uses to break up Ground and Dig;)  
The Bride to nothing but her Will,  
That nulls the After-marriage still.  
Some were for th' utter Extirpation  
Of Linsey-Woolsey in the Nation;  
And some against all Idolising  
The Cross in Shop-Books, or Baptising.  
Others, to make all things recant  
The Christian or Surname of Saint;  
And force all Churches, Streets, and Towns,  
The Holy Title to renounce.  
Some 'gainst a Third Estate of Souls,  
And bringing down the Price of Coals.  
Some for Abolishing Black-pudding,  
And eating nothing with the Blood in;  
To abrogate them Roots and Branches;  
While others were for eating Haunches  
Of Warriors, and now and then  
The Flesh of Kings and Mighty Men;  
And some for Breaking of their Bones  
With Rods of Ir'n by Secret ones;  
For Thrashing Mountains, and with Spells  
For Hallowing Carriers Packs and Bells.  
Things that the Legend never heard of,  
But made the Wicked sore afeard of.  
The Quacks of Government (who sat  
At th' unregarded Helm of State,  
And understood, this wild Confusion  
Of fatal Madness and Delusion,  
Must, sooner than a Prodigy,  
Portend Destruction to be nigh)  
Considered timely, how t' withdraw  
And save their Wind-pipes from the Law:  
For one Rencounter at the Bar  
Was worse than all th' had scaped in War:  
And therefore met in Consultation,  
To Cant and Quack upon the Nation;  
Not for the sickly Patient's sake,  
Nor what to give, but what to take;  
To feel the Pulses of their Fees,  
More wise than fumbling Arteries;  
Prolong the Snuff of Life in Pain,  
And from the Grave recover— Gain.  
'Mong these there was a Politician,  
With more Heads than a Beast in vision,  
And more Intrigues in every one  
Then all the Whores of Babylon.  
So politic, as if one eye  
Upon the other were a Spy;  
That to trapan the one to think  
The other Blind, both strove to blink:  
And in his dark Pragmatic way  
As busy as a Child at Play.  
H'had seen three Governments Run down,  
And had a hand in every one,  
Was for 'em and against 'em all,  
But Barbarous when they came to fall:  
For by Trapanning th' old to Ruin,  
He made his Interest with the New one;  
Played true and faithful, though against  
His Conscience and was still advanced.  
For by the Witchcraft of Rebellion  
Transformed t' a feeble State-Camelion,  
By giving aim from side to side,  
He never failed to save his Tide,  
But got the Start of every State,  
And at a Change ne'er came too late:  
Could turn his Word, and Oath, and Faith,  
As many ways as in a Lath;  
By turning, wriggle, like a Screw  
Int' highest Trust, and out for New.  
For when h'had happily incurred,  
In stead of Hemp, to be preferred,  
And past upon a Government,  
He played his trick and out he went:  
But being out, and out of hopes  
To mount his Ladder (more) of Ropes,  
Would strive to raise himself upon  
The Public Ruin and his own.  
So little did he understand  
The desperate Feats he took in hand.  
For when h'had got himself a Name.  
For Fraud and Tricks; he spoiled his Game,  
Had forced his Neck into a Noose,  
To show his play at Fast and Loose;  
And when he chanced t' escape, mistake  
For Art and Subtlety, his Luck.  
So right his Judgement was cut fit,  
And made a Tally to his Wit,  
And both together most Profound  
At Deeds of Darkness under Ground:  
As th' Earth is easiest undermined  
By Vermin Impotent and Blind.   

By all these Arts, and many more  
HE had practised long and much before,  
Our State-Artificer foresaw  
Which way the World began to draw.  
For as Old Sinners have all Points,  
O' th' Compass in their Bones and Joints,  
Can by their Pangs and Aches find  
All Turns and Changes of the Wind,  
And better then by Napier 's Bones,  
Feel in their own the Age of Moons:  
So guilty Sinners in a State  
Can by their Grimes prognosticate,  
And in their Consciences feel Pain  
Some days before a Shower of Rain.  
He therefore wisely cast about  
All ways he could, t' insure his Throat;  
And hither came t' observe and smoke  
What Courses other Riskers took;  
And to the utmost do his best  
To Save himself, and Hang the rest.   

To match this Saint, there was another,  
As busy and perverse a Brother,  
a Haberdasher of Small-wares  
In Politics and State-Affairs;  
More Jew than Rabbi Achitophel,  
And better gifted to Rebel:  
For when h'had taught his Tribe to Spouse  
The Cause, aloft, upon one House,  
He scorned to set his own in Order,  
But tried another, and went further;  
So sullenly addicted still  
To's only Principle, his Will,  
That whatsoever it chanced to prove,  
No force of Argument could move,  
Nor Law, nor Cavalcade of Ho'born,  
Could render half a grain less stubborn,  
For he at any time would hang,  
For th' opportunity t' harangue,  
And rather on a Gibbet dangle,  
Then miss his dear delight, to wrangle:  
In which his Parts were so accomplished,  
That, right or wrong, he ne'er was nonplussed;  
But still his Tongue ran on, the less  
Of weight it bore, with greater ease,  
And with its Everlasting Clack  
Set all men's Ears upon the Rack.  
No sooner could a hint appear,  
But up he started to Pickere,  
And made the stoutest yield to mercy,  
When he engaged in Controversy;  
Not by the froce of Carnal Reason,  
But indefatigable Teazing;  
With Volleys of eternal Babble,  
And Clamour more unanswerable.  
For though his Topics, frail and weak,  
Could near amount above a Freak:  
He still maintained 'em, like his Faults,  
Against the desperat'st Assaults;  
And backed their feeble want of Sense  
With greater Heat and Confidence:  
As Bones of Hector's when they differ,  
The more th' are Cudgeled, grow the Stiffer.  
Yet when his Profit moderated,  
The fury of his Heat abated:  
For nothing but his Interest  
Could lay his Devil of Contest.  
It was his Choice, or Chance, or Curse,  
T' espouse the Cause for Bett'r or worse;  
And with his worldly Goods and Wit,  
And Soul, and Body, worshipped it:  
But when he found the sullen Trapes  
Possessed with th' Devil, Worms, and Claps,  
The Trojan Mare in Fole with Greeks  
Not half so full of Jadish Tricks,  
Though Squeamish in her outward Woman,  
As lose and rampant as Dol common;  
He still resolved to mend the matter,  
T' adhere and cleave the obstinater;  
And still the skittisher and loser  
Her Freaks appeared, to sit the closer.  
For Fools are stuborn in their way;  
As Coins are hardened by th' Alloy:  
And Obstinacy's ne'er so stiff,  
As when 'tis in a wrong Belief.  
These two, with others, being met,  
And close in Consultation set;  
After a discontented pause,  
And not without sufficient cause,  
The Orator we mentioned late,  
Less troubled with the pangs of State,  
Then with his own impatience,  
To give himself first Audience,  
After he had a while looked wise,  
At last broke silence, and the Ice.   

Quoth he, There's nothing makes me doubt  
Our last Out-going brought about,  
More than to see the Characters  
Of real Jealousies and Fears,  
Not feigned, as once, but sadly horrid,  
Scored upon every Member's Forehead,  
Who, 'cause the Clouds are drawn together,  
And threaten sudden change of Wether,  
Feel Pangs and Aches of State-turns,  
And Revolutions in their Corns;  
And, since our Workings-out are crossed,  
Throw up the Cause before tis ' lost.  
Was it to run away, we meant,  
When, takeing of the Covenant,  
The lamest Cripples of the Brothers  
Took Oaths, to run before all others;  
But, in their own sense, only swore  
To strive to run away before?  
And now would prove, the Words and Oath  
Engage us to renounce them both?  
'Tis true, the Cause is in the lurch,  
Between a right and Mongrel Church,  
The Presbyter and Independent,  
That stickle which shall make an end on't:  
And 'twas made out to us the last  
Expedient,— (I mean, Margret's Fast)  
When Providence had been suborned,  
What answer was to be returned.  
Else why should Tumults fright us now,  
We have so many times gone through,  
And understand as well to tame,  
As, when they serve our turns, t' inflame?  
Have proved how inconsiderable  
Are all Engagements of the Rabble,  
Whose Frenzies must be reconciled  
With Drums and Rattles like a Child;  
But never proved so prosperous,  
As when they were led on by us.  
For all our Scouring of Religion  
Began with Tumults and Sedition;  
When Hurricanes of fierce Commotion  
Became strong Motives to Devotion;  
(As Carnal Seamen in a Storm  
Turn pious Converts, and reform;)  
When rusty Weapons with chalked Edges  
Maintained our feeble Privileges,  
And brown Bills levied in the City  
Made Bills to pass the Grand Committee;  
When Zeal with aged Clubs and Gleaves  
Gave chase to Rochets and White Sleeves,  
And made the Church and State and Laws  
Submit t' old Iron and the Cause,  
And as we thrived by Tumults then,  
So might we better now again,  
If we know how, as than we did,  
To use them rightly in our need.  
Tumults by which the Mutinous  
Betray themselves in stead of us;  
The Hollow-hearted Disaffected,  
And Close Malignant are detected;  
Who lay their Lives and Fortunes down,  
For Pledges to secure our own,  
And freely sacrifice their Ears,  
T' appease our Jealousies and Fears.  
And yet for all these Providences  
W' are offered, if we had our senses,  
We idly sit, like stupid Blockheads,  
Our hands committed to our Pockets,  
And nothing but our Tongues at large,  
To get the Wretches a discharge.  
Like men condemned to Thunderbolts,  
Who, e'er the blow, become mere Dolts;  
Or Fools besotted with their Crimes,  
That know not how to shift betimes,  
And neither have they hearts to stay,  
Nor wit enough to run away.  
Who, if we could resolve on either,  
Might stand, or fall (at least) together:  
No mean nor trivial solaces  
To Partners in extreme distress,  
Who use to lessen their Despairs,  
By parting them int' equal shares;  
As if the more there were to bear,  
They felt the weight the easier;  
And every one the gentler hung,  
The more he took his turn among.  
But 'tis not come to that as yet,  
If we had Courage left or Wit;  
Who, when our Fate can be no worse,  
Are fitted for the bravest course;  
Have time to Rally, and prepare  
Our last and best defence, Despair;  
Despair, by which the gallantest Feats  
Have been achieved in greatest straits,  
And horrid'st dangers safely waved,  
By b'ing courageously outbraved.  
As Wounds by wider wounds are healed,  
And Poisons by themselves expelled.  
And so they might be now again,  
If we were, what we should be, Men;  
And not so dully desperate,  
To side against ourselves with Fate:  
As Criminals condemned to suffer,  
Are blinded first, and then turned over.  
This comes of Breaking Covenants,  
And setting up Exauns of Saints,  
That Fine, like Aldermen, for Grace,  
To be excused the Efficace,  
For Spiritual men are too Transcendent,  
That mount their Banks for Independent,  
To hang like Mahomet in th' Air,  
Or St. Ignatius at his Prayer,  
By pure Geometry, and hate  
Dependency on Church or State;  
Disdain the Pedantry o' th' Letter,  
And since Obedience is better  
(The Scripture says) than Sacrifice,  
Presume the less on't will suffice;  
And scorn to have the moderat'st stints  
Prescribed their peremptory Hints,  
Or any Opinion, true or false,  
Declared as such, in Doctrinals,  
But lest at large to make their best on,  
Without b'ing called t' account or question.   

Interpret all the Spleen reveals,  
As Whittington explained the Bells;  
And bid themselves turn back again  
Lord May'rs of New Jerusalem;  
But look so big and overgrown,  
They scorn their Edifiers t' own,  
Who taught them all their sprinkling Lessons,  
Their Tones and sanctify'd expressions;  
Bestowed their Gifts upon a Saint,  
Like Charity on those that want,  
And learned th' Apocryphal Bigots,  
T' inspire themselves with Shorthand Notes:  
For which they scorn and hate them worse  
Than Dogs and Cats do Sowgelder's.  
For who first bred them up to pray,  
And teach, the House of Commons way?  
Where had they all their Gifted Phrases,  
But from our Calamies and Cases?  
Without whose Sprinkling and Sowing,  
Who e'er had heard of Nye or Owen?  
Their dispensations had been stifled,  
But for our Adoniram Bifield.  
And had They not begun the War,  
Th' had ne'er been Sainted as they are.  
For Saints in Peace degenerate,  
And dwindle down to Reprobate:  
Their Zeal corrupts like standing Water,  
In th' Intervals of War and slaughter;  
Abates the sharpness of its Edge,  
Without the Power of Sacrilege,  
And though th' have Tricks to cast their Sins,  
As easy as Serpents do their Skins,  
That in a while grow out again,  
In Peace they turn mere Carnal men,  
And from the most Refined of Saints,  
As naturally grow Miscreants  
As Barnacles turn Soland-geeses,  
In th' Islands of the Orcadeses.  
Their Dispensations but a Ticket,  
For their conforming to the Wicked;  
With whom their greatest difference  
Lies more in words and show, than sense  
For as the Pope, that keeps the Gate  
Of Heaven, wears three Crowns in state;  
So he that keeps the Gate of Hell,  
Proud Cerberus, wears three Heads as well:  
And, if the World has any troth,  
Some have been Canonised in both,  
But that which does them greatest harm,  
Their Spiritual Gizzards are too warm,  
Which puts the overheated Sots  
In Fever still, like other Goats.  
For though the Whore bends Heretics  
With Flames of Fire, like crooked Sticks;  
Our Schismatics so vastly differ,  
Th' hotter the are they grow the stiffer;  
Still setting off their spiritu●l goods,  
With fierce and pertinacious feuds.  
For Zeal's a dreadful Termagant,  
That teaches Saints to tear and rant,  
And Independents, to profess  
The Doctrine of Dependences;  
Turns meek and sneaking Secret ones,  
To Raw-heads fierce and bloody Bones:  
And not content with endless quarrels  
Against the Wicked and their Morals,  
The Gibellins, for want of Guelves,  
Divert their rage upon themselves.  
For now the War is not between  
The Brethren and the Men of sin;  
But Saint and Saint, to spill the Blood  
Of one another's Brotherhood;  
Where neither side can lay pretence  
To Liberty of Conscience,  
Or zealous suffering for the Cause,  
To gain one Groatsworth of Applause:  
For though endured with Resolution,  
●Twill ne'er amount to Persecution.  
Shall Precious Saints and Secret ones  
Break one another's outward Bones?  
And eat the Flesh of Brethren,  
In stead of Kings and Mighty men?  
When Fiends agree among themselves,  
Shall they be found the greater Elves?  
When Bel's at Union with the Dragon,  
And Baal-Peor Friends with Dagon,  
When Savage Bears agree with Bears,  
Shall Secret ones lug Saints by th' Ears,  
And not alone their fatal wrath,  
When common Danger threatens both?  
Shall Mastiffs by the Collars pulled,  
Engaged with Bulls, let go their hold?  
And Saints, whose Necks are pawned at stake,  
No notice of the Danger take?  
But though no Power of Heaven or Hell  
Can pacify Fanatic Zeal;  
Who would not guests there might be hopes,  
The fear of Gallows and Ropes  
Before their Eyes might reconcile  
Their Animosities a while?  
At least, until th' had a clear Stage,  
And equal Freedom to engage,  
Without the danger of Surprise  
By both our common Enemies?   

This none but we alone could doubt,  
Who understand their Workings-out,  
And know 'em both in Soul and Conscience,  
Given up t' as Reprobate a Nonsense,  
As Spiritual Outlaws whom the Power  
Of Miracle can ne'er restore.  
We, whom at first they set up under,  
In Revelation only of Plunder,  
Who since have had so many Trials  
Of their encroaching Self-denials,  
That rooked upon us with design  
To Out-reform and Vndermine;  
Took all our Interests and Commands  
Perfidiously out of our hands;  
Involved us in the Gild of Blood,  
Without the Motive-gains allowed,  
And made us serve as Ministerial,  
Like younger Sons of Father Belial.   

And yet for all th' inhuman wrong  
Th' had done us and the Cause so long,  
We never failed to carry on  
The Work still as we had begun:  
But true and faithfully obeyed,  
And neither preached them hurt, nor prayed;  
Nor troubled them to crop our Ears,  
Nor hang us like the Cavaliers;  
Nor put them to the Charge of Gaols,  
To find us Pillories and Carts-tails,  
Or Hangman's Wages, which the State  
Was forced (before them) to be at,  
That cut like Tallies to the Stump  
Our Ears for keeping true Accounts,  
And burned our Vessels, like a New-sealed  
Peck or Bushel, for b'ing true.  
But hand in hand, like faithful Brothers,  
Held forth the Cause against all others,  
Disdaining equally to yield  
One Syllable of what we held.  
And though we differed now and then  
'Bout outward things, and outward Men:  
Our inward Men and constant Frame  
Of Spirit still were near the same.  
And till they first began to Cant,  
And Sprinkle down the Covenant,  
We ne'er had Call in any place,  
Nor dreamed of Teaching down Freegrace;  
But joined our Gifts perpetually  
Against the Common Enemy:  
Although 'twas our and their Opinion,  
Each other's Church was but a Rimmon.  
And yet for all this Gospel-Vnion,  
And outward show of Church-Communion,  
They'll ne'er admit us to our shares,  
Of Ruling Church or State Affairs;  
Nor give us leave t' absolve, or sentence  
TO our own Conditions of Repentance:  
But shared our Dividend o' th' Crown  
We had so painfully Preached down;  
And forced us, though against the Grain,  
T' have Calls to teach it up again.  
For 'twas but Justice to Restore  
The wrongs we had received before;  
And than 'twas held forth in our way,  
W' had been ungrateful not to pay:  
Who for the Right w' have done the Nation,  
Have earned our Temporal Salvation,  
And put our Vessels in a way,  
Once more to come again in Play.  
For if the turning of us out,  
Has brought this Providence about,  
And that our only Suffering  
Is able to bring in the King:  
What would our Actions not have done,  
Had we been suffered to go on?  
And therefore may pretend t' a share  
At least in carrying on th' Affair.  
But whether that be so or not,  
W' have done enough to have it thought;  
And that's as good as if w' had done't,  
And easier passed upon account.  
For if it be but half denied,  
'Tis half as good as justified.  
The World is naturally averse  
To all the truth it sees or hears,  
But swallows Nonsense and a Lie  
With greediness and gluttony;  
And though it have the Pique, and long,  
'Tis still for something in the wrong:  
As Women long, when th' are with Child  
For things extravagant and wild,  
For Meats ridiculous, and fulsome,  
But seldom any thing that's wholesome;  
And, like the World, Men's Jobbernoles  
Turn round upon their Ears, the Poles;  
And what th' are confidently told,  
By no sense else can be controlled.   

And this, perhaps, may prove the means,  
Once more, to hedge in Providence.  
For, as Relapses make Diseases  
More disp'rate than their first Accesses;  
If we but get again in Power,  
Our Work is easier than before;  
And we more ready and expert  
I'th' Mystery, to do our Part.  
We, who did rather undertake  
The first War to create, than make:  
And when of Nothing 'twas begun,  
Raised Funds as strange, to carry't on;  
Trepanned the State, and faced it down,  
With Plots and Projects of our own:  
And if we did such Feats at first,  
What can we now w' are better versed?  
Who have a freer Latitude  
Than Sinners give themselves allowed?  
And therefore likeliest to bring in  
On fairest Terms, our Discipline.  
To which it was revealed long since,  
We were ordained by Providence:  
When Three Saints Ears, our Predecessors,  
The Cause's Primitive Confessors,  
B'ing Crucified, the Nation stood  
In just so many Years of Blood:  
That multiplied by Six, expressed  
The perfect Number of the Beast.  
And proved that we must be the Men.  
To bring this Work about again:  
And those who laid the first Foundation,  
Complete the thorough Reformation:  
For who have Gifts to carry on  
So great a Work, but we alone?  
What Churches have such able Pastors?  
And Precious, Powerful, Preaching-Masters?  
Possessed with Absolute Dominions,  
O'er Brethren's Purses and Opinions?  
And trusted with the Double Keys  
Of Heaven, and their Warehouses:  
Who, when the Cause is in Distress,  
Can furnish out what Sums they please,  
That Brooding lie in Bankers Hands,  
To be disposed at their Commands:  
And daily increase and multiply,  
With Doctrine, Use and Usury.  
Can fetch in Parties (as in War,  
All other Heads of cattle are;)  
From the Enemy of all Religions,  
As well as High and Low Conditions;  
And share them from Blue Ribbons down.  
To all Blue Aprons in the Town.  
From Ladies hurried in Calleches,  
With Cornets at their Footman's Breeches,  
To Bawds as fat as Mother Nab,  
All Guts and Belly like a Crab.  
Our Party's great, and better tied  
With Oaths, and Trade, than any side:  
Has one considerabl' Improvement,  
To double fortify the Covenant;  
I mean our Covenants to purchase  
Delinquents Titles and the Churches:  
That pass in Sale, from Hand, to Hand,  
Among ourselves, for Current Land.  
And Rise or Fall, like Indian Actions,  
According to the Rate of Factions:  
Our best Reserve for Reformation,  
When New-out-going give occasion:  
That keeps the Loins of Brethren girt,  
The Covenant (their Creed) t' assert:  
And when th' have packed a Parliament,  
Will once more try th' Expedient,  
Who can already muster Friends,  
To serve for Members, to our Ends:  
That represent no part o' th' Nation,  
But Fisher's- Folly Congregation:  
Are only Tools to our Intrigues,  
And sit like Geese to hatch our Eggs:  
Who, by their Precedents of Wit,  
T' out-fast, out-leiter, and outsit:  
Can order matters under hand,  
To put all Business to a stand:  
Lay Public Bills aside, for Private,  
And make 'em one another drive out;  
Divert the Great and Necessary,  
With Trifles to contest and vary;  
And make the Nation represent,  
And serve for us in Parliament;  
Cut out more Work than can be done  
On Plato's Year; but finish none,  
Unless it be the Bulls of Lenthal,  
That always past for Fundamental.  
Can set up Grandee against Grandee,  
To squander time away, and Bandy.  
Make Lords and Commoners lay Sieges  
To one another's Privileges;  
And, rather than compound the Quarrel,  
Engage to th' inevitable peril  
Of both their Ruins; th' only Scope  
And Consolation of our Hope:  
Who, though we do not play the Game,  
Assist as much by giving Aim.  
Can introduce our ancient Arts,  
For Heads of Factions, t' act their Parts.  
Know what a Leading-Voice is worth;  
A Seconding, a Third, or Fourth:  
How much a Casting Vote comes to,  
That turns up Trump, of I, or No;  
And by Adjusting at th' End,  
Share every one his Dividend.  
An Art that so much Study cost.  
And now's in danger to be lost;  
Unless our Ancient Virtuoso's,  
That found it out, get into th' Houses.  
These are the Courses that we took  
To carry things, by Hook, or Crook:  
And parcticed down from Forty Four,  
Until they turned us out of Door;  
Besides the Herds of Boutefeus',  
We set on work, without the House.  
When every Knight and Citizen  
Kept Legislative Journeymen,  
To bring them in Intelligence  
From all Points of the Rabbles Sense;  
And fill the Lobbies of both Houses  
With Politic Important Buzzes:  
Set up Committees of Cabals,  
To pack Designs without the Walls.  
Examine, and draw up all News,  
And fit it to our present Use.  
Agree upon the Plot i' th' Farce,  
And every one his Part rehearse.  
Make Q's of Answers, to waylay  
What th' other Parties like to say,  
What Repartees, and smart Reflections  
Shall be returned to all Objections:  
And who shall break the Master-Jest,  
And what, and how, upon the rest:  
Help Pamphlets out, with safe Editions,  
Of Proper Slanders and Seditions:  
And Treason for a Token send,  
By Letter, to a Country Friend.  
Disperse Lampoons, the only Wit,  
That Men, like Burglary, commit:  
Wit, falser than a Padder's Face,  
That all its Owner does, betrays:  
Who therefore dare not trust it, when  
He's in his Calling, to be seen.  
Disperse the Dung on Barren Earth,  
To bring new Weeds of Discord forth.  
Be sure to keep up Congregations,  
In spite of Laws and Proclamation●;  
For Chiarlatans' can do no good,  
Until th' are mounted in a Crowd:  
And when th' are punished, all the Hurt  
Is but to far the better for't▪  
As long as Confessors are sure  
Of double Pay for all th' endure:  
And What they earn in Persecution,  
Are paid t' a Groat in Contribution.  
Whence some Tub-holders-forth have made  
In Powdering-tubs, their richest Trade:  
And while they keep their Shops in Prison,  
Have found their Prices strangely risen,  
Disdain to own the least Regret  
For all the Christian Blood w' have let;  
'Twill save our Credit, and maintain  
Our Title, to do so again;  
That needs not cost one Dram of Sense,  
But Pertinacious Impudence:  
Our Constancy t'our Principles,  
In time, will wear out all things else;  
Like Marble Statues, rubbed to pieces,  
With Gallantry of Pilgrim's Kisses;  
While those who turn and wind their Oaths  
Have swelled, and sunk like other Froths.  
Prevailed a while, but 'twas not long,  
Before from World to World they swung:  
As they had turned from side, to side;  
And as the Changelings lived they died.   

This said; the impatient States-Monger  
Could now contain himself no longer;  
Who had not spared to show his Picques,  
Against th' Haranguers Piliticks?  
With smart Remarks of Leering Faces,  
And Annotations of Grimaeces,  
After h'had ministered a Dose  
Of Snuff-Mundungus, to his Nose;  
And powdered th' inside of his Skull,  
Instead of th' outward Jobbernol:  
He shook it, with a scornful Look  
On th' Adversary, and thus he spoke.  
In Dressing a Calve's Head, although  
The Tongue and Brains together go,  
Both keep so great a distance here,  
'Tis strange, if ever they come near:  
For, who did ever play his Gambols,  
With such unsufferable Rambles?  
To make the bringing in the King,  
And keeping of him out, one thing?  
Which none can do, but those who swore  
't'as Point-blank Nonsense heretofore:  
That to Defend was to Invade,  
And to Assassinate, to Aid:  
Unless because you drove him out,  
(And that was never made a Doubt)  
No Power is able to restore  
And bring him in, but on your Score.  
A Spiritual Doctrine, that conduces  
Most properly, to all your Uses  
'Tis true, a Scorpion's Oil is said  
To cure the Wounds the Vermin made;  
And Weapons dressed with Salves, restore  
And heal the Hurts they gave before:  
But whether Presbyterians have  
So much Good Nature as the Salve,  
Or Virtue in them as the Vermin,  
Those who have tried 'em can determine.  
Indeed, 'tis pity you should miss  
Th' Arrears of all your Services,  
And for th' Eternal Obligation  
YE have laid upon th' ungrateful Nation:  
B'used so unconscionable hard,  
As not to find a just Reward.  
For letting Rapine loose, and Murder,  
To rage just so far, but no further:  
And setting all the Land on fire,  
To burn t' a Scanting, but no higher:  
For venturing to assassinate,  
And cut the Throats of Church and State:  
And not be allowed the fittest Men  
To take the Charge of both again.  
Especially, that have the Grace  
Of Self-denying, Gifted Face;  
Who, when your Projects have miscarried,  
Can lay them, with undaunted Forehead.  
On those you painfully trepanned,  
And sprinkled in at Second Hand.  
As we have been, to share the Gild  
Of Christian Blood, devoutly spilt;  
For so our Ignorance was flamed,  
To damn ourselves, t' avoid being damned:  
Till finding your old Foe, the Hangman,  
Was like to lurch you at Back-Gammon;  
And win your Necks upon the Set,  
As well as ours, who did but Bet:  
(For he had drawn your Ears before,  
And nicked 'em on the selfsame Score:)  
We threw the Box and Dice away,  
Before ye had lost us at foul Play:  
And brought you down to Rook, and Lie,  
And Fancy only, on the By.  
Redeemed your forfeit Jobbernoles,  
From perching upon lofty Poles:  
And rescued all your Outward Traitors  
From hanging up like Alligators:  
For which ingeniously ye have showed  
Your Presbyterian Gratitude:  
Would freely have paid us home in kind,  
And not have been one Rope behind.  
Those were your Motives to divide,  
And scruple, on the other side,  
To turn your Zealous Frauds, and Force,  
To Fits of Conscience and Remorse.  
To be convinced they were in vain,  
And face about for New again:  
For Truth no more unveiled your Eyes,  
Than Maggots are convinced to Flies:  
And therefore, all your Lights and Call▪  
Are but Apocryphal, and False▪  
To charge us with the Consequences  
Of all your Native Insolences.  
That to your own Imperious Wills,  
Laid Law and Gospel Neck and Heels:  
Corrupted the Old Testament,  
To serve the New for Precedent:  
T' amend its Errors and Defects,  
With Murder and Rebellion-Texts:  
Of which there is not any one  
In all the Book, to sow upon:  
And therefore (from your Tribe) the Jews  
Held Christian Doctrine forth and Use:  
As Mahomet (your Chief) began  
To mix them in the Koran:  
Denounced, and prayed with Fierce Devotion,  
And bended Elbows on the Cushion:  
Stole from the Beggars all your Tones,  
And Gifted Mortifying Groans:  
Had Lights where better Eyes were blind,  
As Pigs are said to see the Wind:  
Filled Bedlam with Predestination,  
And Knightsbridge with Illumination:  
Made Children, with your Tones, to run for't,  
As bad as Bloody Bones or Lunsford.  
While Women, Great with Child, miscarried:  
For being to Malignants married:  
Transformed all Wives to Dalilahs',  
Whose Husbands were not for the Cause:  
And turned the Men to Ten-horned cattle,  
Because they came not out to Battle:  
Made Tailors Prentices turn Heroes,  
For fear of being transformed to Meroz;  
And rather forfeit their Indentures,  
Than not espouse the Saints Adventures.   

Could Transubstantiate, Metamorphose,  
And charm whole Herds of Beasts, like Orpheus;  
Enchant the King's and Church's Lands,  
T' obey and follow your Commands:  
And settle on a New freehold,  
As Marcly-Hill had done of Old.  
Could turn the Covenant, and translate  
The Gospel into Spoons and Plate:  
Expound upon all Merchant's Cashes,  
And open th' intricatest Places:  
Could Catechise a Money Box,  
And prove all Pouches Orthodox;  
Until the Cause became a Damon,  
And Pythias, the wicked Mammon.   

And yet, in spite of all your Charms,  
To conjure Legion up, in Arms;  
And raise more Devils in the Rout,  
Than e'er ywere able to cast out:  
YE have been reduced, and by those Fools,  
Bred up (you say) in your own Schools:  
Who, though but gifted at your feet,  
Have made it plain, they have more Wit.  
By whom you have been so oft trepan'd,  
And held forth out of all Command:  
Out-gifted, Out-impulsed, Outdone,  
And Out-revealed at Carrying on.  
Of all your Dispensations Wormed,  
Out-providenced, and Out-reformed.  
Ejected out of Church, and State,  
And all things, but the People's Hate:  
And spirited out of th' Enjoyments  
Of precious, edifying Employments;  
By those who lodged their Gifts and Graces,  
Like better Bowlers, in your Places.  
All which you bore, with Resolution,  
Charged on th' Account of Persecution:  
And though, most Righteously oppressed,  
Against your Wills, still acquiest:  
And never Humed and Hahed Sedition,  
Nor snuffled Treason, nor Misprision.  
That is, because you never durst;  
For had you preached and prayed your worst,  
Alas, you were no longer able  
To raise your Posse of the Rabble:  
One single Red-Coat Sentinel  
Out-charmed the Magic of the Spell;  
And with his Squirt-fire, could disperse  
Whole Troops, with Chapter raised, and Verse:  
We knew too well those tricks of yours,  
To leave it ever in your Powers:  
Or trust our Safeties, or Vndoing,  
To your disposing of Out-going;  
Or to your Ordering Providence,  
One Farthings-worth of Consequence   

For had you Power to undermine,  
Or Wit to carry a Design,  
Or Correspondence to trepan,  
Inveigle, or betray one Man;  
There's nothing else that intervenes,  
And bars your Zeal to use the means.  
And therefore wondrous like, no doubt,  
To bring in Kings, or keep them out:  
Brave undertakers to restore,  
That could not keep yourselves in power  
T' advance the Intersts of the Crown,  
That wanted Wit to keep your own.   

'Tis true, you have (for I'd be loath  
To wrong ye) done your Parts, in Both;  
To keep him out, and bring him in,  
As Grace is introduced by Sin;  
For 'twas your zealous want of Sense,  
And sanctified Impertinence:  
Your carrying business in a Huddle,  
That forced our Rulers to New-Modle;  
Obliged the State to tack about,  
And turn you, Root and Branch, all out;  
To Reformado, One and All,  
T' your Great Croysado, General:  
Your greedy slav'ring to devour  
Before 'twas in your Clutches, Power.  
That sprung the Game you were to set,  
Before ye had time to draw the Net:  
Your spite to see the Church's Lands  
Divided into other Hands.  
And all your Sacrilegious Ventures,  
Laid out on Tickets and Debentures;  
Your Envy to be sprinkled down,  
By Under Churches in the Town.  
And no Course used to stop their Mouths,  
Nor th' Independants spreading Growths  
All which considered, 'tis most true,  
None bring him in so much as you.  
Who have prevailed, beyond their Plots,  
Their Midnight Juntoes, and sealed Knots;  
That thrive more by your Zealous Piques,  
Than all their own rash Politics.  
And th●s way you may claim a share,  
In carrying (as you brag) th' Affair;  
Else Frogs, and Toads, that croaked the Jews,  
From Pharo, and his Brick-kills-loose:  
And Flies, and Mange, that set them free,  
From Taskmasters, and Slavery:  
Were likelier to do the Feat,  
In any indifferent Man's Conceit;  
For who e'er heard of Restoratian,  
Until your thorough Reformation:  
That is, the King's and Church's Lands  
Were sequestered int' other Hands?  
For, only then, and not before,  
Your Eyes were opened to restore.  
And when the Work was carrying on,  
Who crossed it, but yourselves alone?  
As, by a World of Hints, appears,  
All plain, and extant, as your Ears.  
But first o'th' first; the Isle of Wight  
Will rise up, if you should deny't;  
Where Hinderson, and th' other Masses,  
Were sent to cap Texts, and put Cases:  
To pass for Deep and Learned Scholars;  
Although but Paltry, Ob-and-Sollers:  
As if th' unseasonable Fools  
Had been a Cursing in the Schools;  
Until th' had proved the Devil Author  
O' th' Covenant, and the Cause, his Daughter;  
For, when they charged him with the Gild  
Of all the Blood that had been spilt;  
They did not mean, he wrought th' Effusion  
In Person, like Sir Pride, or Hughson;  
But only those, who first begun  
The Quarrel, were by him set on.  
And who could those be but the Saints,  
Those Reformation-Termegants?  
But e'er this past, the wise Debate  
Spent so much time, it grew too late;  
For Oliver had gotten Ground,  
T' enclose them, with his Warriors, round:  
Had brought his Providence about,  
And turned the untimely Sophists out.  
Nor had the Uxbridge business less  
Of Nonsense in't, and sottishness,  
When from a Scoundrel Holder-forth,  
The Scum, as well as Son o' th' Earth,  
Your mighty Senators took Law  
At his Command, were forced t' withdraw;  
And sacrifice the Peace o' th' Nation  
To Doctrine, Use, and Application.  
So when the Scots, your constant Cronies,  
Th' Espousers of your Cause, and moneys:  
Who had so often, in your Aid,  
So many ways been sound paid;  
Came in at last, for better Ends,  
To prove themselves your trusty Friends,  
You basely left them, and the Church,  
Th' had trained you up to, in the Lurch,  
And suffered your own Tribe of Christians  
To fall before, as true Philistines.  
This shows what Utensils ye have been,  
To bring the King's Concernments in  
Which is so far from being true,  
That none but He can bring in You.  
And if he take you into trust,  
Will find you most exactly just:  
Such as will punctually repay  
With double Interest, and betray.   

Not that I think those Pantomimes,  
Who vary Action with the Times;  
Are less ingenious in their Art,  
Than those who dully act one Part;  
Or those who turn from Side to Side;  
More guilty than the Wind and Tide.  
All Countries are a Wise man's Home,  
And so are Governments to some,  
Who change them for the same Intrigues  
That Statesmen use in breaking Leagues:  
While others in Old Faiths and Troths,  
Look od●, as in Out-of-fashioned clothes:  
And nastier, in an old Opinion,  
Than those who never shift their Linen.   

For True and Faithful's sure to loose,  
Which way soever the Game goes:  
And whether Parties lose or win,  
Is always nicked, or else hedged in.  
While Power usurped like stolen delight,  
Is more bewitching than the Right.  
And when the Times begin to alter,  
None rise so high as from the Halter.   

And so may we, if w' have but Sense  
To use the necessary Means,  
And not your usual Stratagems  
On one another, Lights and Dreams.  
To stand on Terms as positive,  
As if we did not take, but give:  
Set up the Covenant on Crutches,  
'Gainst those who have us in their Clutches;  
And dream of pulling Churches down,  
Before w' are sure to prop our own:  
Your constant Method of Proceeding,  
Without the Carnal Means of Heeding:  
Who, 'twixt your Inward Sense, and Outward,  
Are worse, than if y'had none, accoutred.   

I grant, all Courses are in vain,  
Unless we can get in again;  
The only way that's left us now,  
But all the difficulty's, How?  
'Tis true! w' have Money, th' only Power  
That all Mankind falls down before:  
Money, that, like the Swords of Kings,  
Is the last Reason of all things.  
And therefore, need not doubt our Play  
Has all advantages that way;  
As long as Men have Faith to sell,  
And meet with those that can pay well.  
Whose half-starved Pride and Avarice,  
One Church and State will not suffice,  
T' expose to Sale; beside the Wages  
Of storing Plagues to after Ages.  
Nor is our Money less our own,  
Than 'twas before we laid it down:  
For 'twill return, and turn t' Account,  
If we are brought in Play upon't;  
Or, but by Casting Knaves, get in,  
What Power can hinder us to win?  
We know the Arts we used before,  
In Peace and War, and something more:  
And by the unfortunate Events,  
Can mend our next Experiments.  
For, when w' are taken into Trust,  
How easy are the Wisest choust?  
Who see but th' outsides of our Feats,  
And not their secret Springs and Weights;  
And while th' are busy at their ease,  
Can carry what Designs we please:  
How easy is't to serve for Agents,  
To prosecute our old Engagements?  
To keep the Good Old Cause on Foot,  
And present Power from taking Root?  
Inflame them both with false Alarms,  
Of Plots, and Parties, taking Arms;  
To keep the Nation's Wounds too wide  
For healing up of Side to Side.  
Profess the passionat'st Concerns,  
For both their Interests, by Turns.  
The only way t' improve our own,  
By dealing faithfully with none;  
(As Bowls run true, by being made  
Of purpose false, and to be swayed)  
For, if we should be true to either,  
'Twould turn us out of both together:  
And therefore have no other Means,  
To stand upon our own Defence;  
But keeping up our Ancient Party  
In Vigour, Confident, and Hearty:  
To reconcile our late Dissenters,  
Our Brethren, though by other Ventures,  
Unite them and their different Maggots,  
As long and short Sticks are in Faggots.  
And make them join again as close,  
As when they first began t' Espouse;  
Erect them into Separate  
New Jewish Tribes, in Church and State;  
To join in Marriage and Commerce,  
And only among themselves Converse.  
And all that are not of their Mind,  
Make Enemies to all Mankind:  
Take all Religions in and stickle,  
From Conclave, down to Conventicle;  
Agreeing still, or disagreeing,  
According to the Light in Being.  
Sometimes, for Liberty of Conscience,  
And Spiritual miss-rule, in one Sense.  
But in another quite contrary,  
As Dispensations chance to vary:  
And stand for, as the times will bear it,  
All Contradictions of the Spirit:  
Protect their Emessaries, empowered  
To preach Sedition and the Word:  
And when th' are hampered by the Laws,  
Release the labourers for the Cause;  
And turn the Persecution back,  
On those that made the first Attack.   

To keep them equally in awe,  
From breaking or maintaining Law;  
And when they have their Fits to soon,  
Before the Full-Tides of the Moon:  
Put off their Zeal t' a fitter Season,  
For sowing Faction in, and Treason;  
And keep them hooded, and their Churches,  
Like Hawks from bating on their Perches.  
That when the Blessed Time shall come,  
Of quitting Babylon and Rome,  
They may be ready to restore  
Their own Fifth-Monarchy, once more;  
Mean while, be better Armed to Fence,  
Against Revolts of Providence;  
By watching narrowly, and snapping  
All blind sides of it, as they happen:  
For, if Success could make us Saints,  
Our Ruin turned us Miscreants:  
A Scandal that would fall too hard  
Upon a Few, and unprepared.   

These are the Courses we must run,  
Spite of our Hearts, or be undone:  
And not to stand on Terms and Freaks,  
Before we have secured our Necks.  
But do our Work, as out of sight,  
As Stars by Day, and Suns by Night:  
All Licence of the People own,  
In opposition to the Crown.  
And for the Crown as fiercely side,  
The Head and Body to divide;  
The end of all we first designed,  
And all that yet remains behind:  
Be sure to spare no public Rapine,  
On all Emergencies that happen;  
For 'tis as easy to supplant  
Authority, as Men in want:  
As some of us, in trusts, have made  
The one hand with the other trade;  
Gained vastly, by their Joynt-endeavour;  
The right a Thief, the left Receiver.  
And what the one, by tricks, forestalled,  
The other, by as sly, Retailed.  
For Gain has wonderful Effects,  
T' improve the Factory of Sects;  
The Rule of Faith in all Professions,  
And great Diana of the Ephesians:  
Whence turning of Religion's made  
The means to turn and wind a Trade.  
And though some change it for the worse,  
They put themselves into a Course;  
And draw in store of Customers,  
To thrive the better in Commerce:  
For, all Religion's flock together,  
Like Tame, and Wildfowl of a Feather;  
To nab the Itches of their Sects;  
As Jades do one another's Necks.  
Hence 'tis, Hypocrisy, as well,  
Will serve t' improve a Church, as Zeal;  
As Persecution, or Promotion,  
Do equally advance Devotion.   

Let Business, like ill Watches, go,  
Sometime too fast, sometime to slow:  
For, things in order are put out  
So easy, Ease itself will do't.  
But when the Feat's designed and meant,  
What Miracle can bar th' event?  
For 'tis more easy to betray,  
Than ruin any other way.   

All possible Occasions start,  
The Weighty'st Matters to divert:  
Obstruct, Perplex, Distract, Entangle,  
And lay perpetual Trains to wrangle:  
But in Affairs of less Import,  
That neither do us Good nor Hurt,  
And they receive as little by,  
Out-fawn as much, and Out-comply:  
And seem as scrupulously just,  
To bait our Hooks for greater Trust.   

But still be careful to cry down  
All public Actions, though our own:  
The least Miscarriage aggravate,  
And charge it all upon the State:  
Express the horrid'st Detestation,  
And pity the distracted Nation.  
Tell Stories, scandalous and false,  
I' th' proper Language of Cabals:  
Where all a subtle Statesman says  
Is half in Words, and half in Face:  
(As Spaniards talk in Dialogues,  
Of Heads and Shoulders, Nods and Shrugs)  
Entrust it under solemn Vows  
Of Mum and Silence, and the Rose,  
To be retailed again in Whispers,  
For th' easy credulous to disperse.   

Thus far the Statesman. When a Shout,  
Herd at a distance, put him out.  
And straight another, all aghast,  
Rushed in with equal Fear and Haste:  
Who stared about, as pale as Death,  
And for a while, as out of Breath;  
Till having gathered up his Wits;  
He thus began his Tale by Fits.   

That beastly Rabble,— that came down,  
From all the Garrets— in the Town,  
And Stalls, and Shop-boards— in vast Swarms,  
With new-chalked Bills,— and rusty Arms,  
To cry the Cause— up, heretofore,  
And bawl the Bishops— out of Door;  
Are now drawn up,— in greater Shoals,  
To Roast— and Broil us on the Coals:  
And all the Grandees— of our Members  
Are Carbonading on— the Embers;  
Knights, Citizens and Burgesses—  
Held forth by Rumps— of Pigs and Geese.  
That serve for Characters— and Badges,  
To represent their Personages,  
Each Bonfire is a Funeral Pile,  
In which they Roast, and Scorch, and Broil;  
And every Representative  
Have vowed to Roast— and Broil alive;  
And 'tis a Miracle, we are not  
Already, sacrificed Incarnate.  
For, while we wrangle here, and jar,  
W' are Gryllyed all at Temple-Bar:  
Some, on the Signpost of an Alehouse,  
Hang in Effigy, on the Gallows,  
Made up of Rags, to personate  
Respective Officers of State;  
That henceforth they may stand reputed,  
Proscribed in Law, and Executed,  
And while the Work is carrying on,  
Be ready Listed under Dun;  
That Worthy Patriot, once the Bellows,  
And Tinderbox of all his Fellows.  
The activ'st Member of the Five,  
As well as the most Primitive:  
Who, for his faithful Service then,  
Is chosen for a Fifth again;  
(For, since the State has made a Quint  
Of Generals, he's listed in't.)  
This Worthy, as the World will say,  
Is paid in Specie, his own way;  
For, moulded to the Life in Clouts,  
Th' have picked from Dunghills hereabouts:  
He's mounted on a Hazel Bavin,  
A cropped Malignant Baker gave 'em:  
And, to the largest Bonfire riding,  
The have roasted Cook already, and Pridem.  
On whom, in Equipage, and State,  
His Scarecrow Fellow-Members wait;  
And March in Order, two and two,  
As at Thanksgivings th' used to do:  
Each in a tattered Talismane,  
Like Vermin in Effigy slain.   

But (what's more dreadful than the rest)  
Those Rumps are but the Tail o' th' Beast;  
Set up by Popish Engineers,  
As by the Crackers plainly appears:  
For, none but Jesuits have a Mission  
To preach the Faith with Ammunition;  
And propagate the Church with Powder,  
Their Founder was a blown up Soldier.  
These Spiritual Pioners o' th' Whores,  
That have the Charge of all her Stores;  
Since first they failed in their Designs,  
To take in Heaven by springing Mines;  
And with unanswerable Barrels  
Of Gunpowder, dispute their Quarrels:  
Now take a Course more practicable,  
By laying Trains to fire the Rabble,  
And blow us up in th' open Streets;  
Disguised in Rumps, like Sambenites;  
More like to Ruin, and Confound,  
Than all their Doctrines underground.   

Nor have they chosen Rumps amiss,  
For Symbols of State-Mysteries;  
Though some suppose, 'twas but to show  
How much they scorned the Saints, The Few;  
Who, 'cause th' are wasted to the stumps,  
Are represented best by Rumps,  
But Jesuits have deeper Reaches  
In all their Politic Far-fetches:  
And from their Coptick Priest, Kirkerus,  
Found out this Mystic way to jeer us.   

For, as the Egyptians used, by Bees,  
T' express their Antic Ptolemy's;  
And by their Stings, the Swords they wore,  
Held forth Authority and Power:  
Because these subtle Animals  
Bear all their interests in their Tails;  
And when th' are once impaired in that,  
Are banished their Well-ordered State:  
They thought all Governments were best,  
By Hieroglyphic Rumps, expressed,   

For, as in Bodies Natural,  
The Rump's the Fundament of all;  
So, in a Commomwealth, or Realm,  
The Government is called the Helm:  
With which, like Vessels under Sail,  
The are turned and wound by the Tail.  
The Tail, which Birds and Fishes steer  
Their Courses with, through Sea and Air;  
To whom the Rudder of the Rump is  
The same thing with the Stern and Compass.  
This shows how perfectly the Rump  
And Commonwealth in Nature jump.  
For, as a Fly, that goes to Bed,  
Rests with his Tail above his Head;  
So in this Mongrel State of ours,  
The Rabble are the Supreme Powers.  
That Horsed us on their Backs, to show us  
A Jadish trick at last, and throw us.   

The Learned Rabbins of the Jews  
Write, there's a Bone which they call Luez,  
I'th' Rump of Man, of such a Virtue,  
No force in Nature can do hurt to;  
And therefore, at the last Great Day,  
All th' other Members shall, they say,  
Spring out of this, as from a Seed,  
All sorts of Vegetals proceed:  
From whence, the Learned Sons of Art,  
Os Sacrum, justly style that Part.   

Then what can better represent,  
Than this Rump-bone, the Parliament?  
That after several rude Ejections,  
And as prodigious Resurrections;  
With new Reversions of nine Lives,  
Starts up, and like a Cat, revives?   

But now, alas, th' are all expired,  
And th' House, as well as Members fired;  
Consumed in Kennels; by the Rout,  
With which they other Fires put out:  
Condemned t' ungoverning Distress,  
And Paltry, Private Wretchedness:  
Worse than the Devil to Privation,  
Beyond all hopes of Restauration;  
And parted like the Body and Soul,  
From all Dominion and Control.   

We, who could lately, with a Look,  
Enact, Establish, or Revoke;  
Whose Arbitrary Nods gave Law,  
And Frowns kept multitudes in Awe:  
Before the Bluster of whose Huff,  
All Hats, as in a Storm, flew off.  
Adored and bowed to, by the Great,  
Down to the Footman, and Valet.  
Had more bend Knees than Chappel-Mats,  
And Prayers, than the Crowns of Hats;  
Shall now be scorned as wretchedly,  
For Ruins just as low as high;  
Which might be suffered, were it all  
The Horror, that attends our Fall:  
For, some of us have Scores more large  
Than Heads and Quarters can discharge.  
And others who, by restless scraping  
With Public Frauds, and private Rapine;  
Have mighty Heaps of Wealth amassed,  
Would gladly lay-down all at last:  
And to be but undone, Entail  
Their Vessels on perpetual Jail;  
And bless the Devil to let them Farms  
Of forfeit Souls, on no worse terms.   

This said, A near and louder Shout  
Put all th' Assembly to the Rout:  
Who now begun t' outrun their fear,  
As Horses do, from those that bear:  
But crowded on, with so much haste,  
Until th' had blocked the Passage fast;  
And Barricadoed it with Haunches  
Of Outward Men, and Bulks, and Paunches:  
That with their shoulders strove to squeeze,  
And rather save a Crippled piece  
Of all their crushed and broken Members,  
Than have them Grillied on the Embers:  
Still pressing on with heavy Packs,  
Of one another, on their Backs:  
The Vanguard could no longer bear  
The Charges of the Forlorn Rear;  
But born down headlong by the Rout,  
Were trampled sorely under Foot.  
Yet nothing proved so formidable,  
As the horrid Cookery of the Rabble:  
And Fear that keeps all Feeling out,  
As lesser Pains are, by the Gout,  
Relieved 'em with a fresh Supply  
Of rallied Force, enough to fly;  
And beat a Tuscan Running Horse,  
Whose Jocky-Rider is all Spurs.    

CANTO III.  
The ARGUMENT.  
The Knight and Squire's Prodigious Flight:  
To quit th' Enchanted Bower by Night:  
He plods to turn his Amorous Suit  
TO a Plea in Law, and prosecute:  
Repairs to Counsel, to advise  
'Bout managing the Enterprise:  
But first resolves to try by Letter,  
And once more, fair Address, to get her.  

WHo would believe what strange Bugbears  
Mankind creates itself, of Fears?  
That spri●g like Fern, that Insect Weed,  
Equivocally, without Seed;  
And have no possible Foundation,  
But merely in th' Imagination:  
And yet can do more dreadful Feats,  
Than Hags, with all their Imps and Teats:  
Make more bewitch and haunt themselves,  
Than all their Nurseries of Elves.  
For fear does things so like a Witch,  
'Tis hard t' unriddle which is which.  
Sets up Communities of Senses,  
To chop and change Intelligences:  
As Rosi-crusian Virtuoso's,  
Can see with Ears, and hear with Noses:  
And when they neither see nor hear,  
Have more than both supplied by Fear;  
That makes 'em in the dark see Visions,  
And hag themselves with Apparitions.  
And when their Eyes discover least,  
Discern the subtlest Objects best.  
Do things not contrary alone  
To th' Course of Nature, but it's own.  
The Courage of the Bravest daunt,  
And turn Pultroons as valiant;  
For Men as resolute appear  
With too much, as too little Fear.  
And when th' are out of hopes of flying,  
Will run away from Death by dying:  
Or turn again to stand it out,  
And those that fled, like Lion's Rout.  
This Hudibras had proved too true,  
Who, by the Furies, left Perdue:  
And haunted with Detachments, sent  
From Marshal-Legion's Regiment;  
Was by a Fiend, as counterfeit,  
Relieved and Rescued with a Cheat:  
When nothing but himself and fear  
Was both the Imps and Conjurer:  
As by the Rules o'th' Virtuosos,  
It follows in due Form of Posy.   

Disguised in all the Masks of Night,  
We left our Champion on his flight:  
At Blind-man's-buff, to grope his way,  
In equal fear, of Night and Day:  
Who took his dark and desperate Course,  
He knew no better than his Horse;  
And by an unknown Devil led,  
(He knew as little whether) fled,  
He never was in greater need,  
Nor less Capacity of Speed:  
Disabled both in Man and Beast,  
To fly, and run away, his best;  
To keep the Enemy, and Fear,  
From equal falling on his Rear.  
And though with Kicks and bangs he plied  
The further, and the nearer side:  
(As Seamen ride with all their force,  
And Tug as if they Rowed the Horse;  
And when the Hackney Sails most swift,  
Believe they lag, or run a-drift)  
So though he posted e'er so fast,  
His Fear was greater than his Haste:  
For Fear, though fleeter than the Wind,  
Believes 'tis always left behind.  
But when the Morn began to appear,  
And shift t' another Scene his Fear;  
He found his new Officious Shade,  
That came so timely to his Aid;  
And forced him from the Foe t' escape,  
Had turned itself to Ralpho 's shape.  
So like in Person, Garb, and Pitch,  
'Twas hard t' interpret which was which.   

For Ralpho had no sooner told  
The Lady all he had t' unfold,  
But she conveyed him out of sight.  
To entertain the approaching Knight.  
And while he gave himself Diversion,  
T' accommodate his Beast and Person,  
And put his Beard into a posture,  
At best advantage to accost her:  
She ordered th' Antimasquerade,  
(For his Reception) aforesaid:  
But when the Ceremony was done,  
The Lights put out, and Furies gone;  
And Hudibras, amongst the rest,  
Conveyed away, as Ralpho guest:  
The wretched Caitiff all alone,  
(As he believed) began to moan,  
And tell his Story to himself;  
The Knight mistook him for an Elf.  
And did so still, till he began  
To scruple at Ralph's Outward Man;  
And thought, because they oft agreed,  
T' appear in one another's stead;  
And act the Saint 's and Devil 's Part.  
With undistinguishable Art;  
They might have done so now perhaps,  
And put on one another's Shapes;  
And therefore, to resolve the doubt,  
He stared upon him, and cried out.  
What art? My Squire, or that bold Spirit,  
That took his Place and Shape to Night?  
Some busy Independent Pug,  
Retainer to his Synagogue?  
Alas, quoth he, I'm none of those  
Your Bosom-Friends, as you suppose;  
But Ralph himself, your trusty Squire,  
Wh ' has dragged your Dunship out o' th' mire;  
And from the Enchantments of a Widow,  
Wh ' had turned you int' a Beast, have freed you.  
And though a Prisoner of War,  
Have brought you safe, where now you are.  
Which you would gratefully repay,  
Your constant Presbyterian way.  
That's stranger (quoth the Knight) and stranger:  
Who gave thee notice of my danger?  
Quoth he, Th' Infernal Conjurer  
Pursued, and took me Prisoner;  
And knowing you were hereabout,  
Brought me along, to find you out.  
Where I, in Hugger-mugger hid,  
Have noted all they said and did:  
And though they lay to him the Pageant,  
I did not see him, nor his Agent;  
Who played their Sorceries out of sight,  
T' avoid a fiercer, second Fight.   

But, didst thou see no Devils then?  
Not one, quoth he, but Carnal Men.  
A little worse than Fiends in Hell,  
And that She-Devil, Jezabel;  
That laughed and tee-heed with derision,  
To see them take your Deposition.  
What then (quoth Hudibras) was he  
That played the devil, to examine me?  
A Rallying Weaver in the Town,  
That did it in a Parson's Gown:  
Whom all the Parish takes for gifted;  
But, for my part, I ne'er believed it.  
In which you told them all your Feats,  
Your Conscientious Frauds and Cheats;  
Denied your Whipping, and confessed  
The naked Truth of all the rest:  
More plainly than the Reverend Writer,  
That to our Churches veiled his Mitre.  
All which they took in Black and White,  
And cudgeled me to underwrite.  
What made thee, when they all were gone,  
And none but thou and I alone;  
To act the Devil, and forbear  
To rid me of my Hellish Fear?  
Quoth he, I knew your constant Rate,  
And Frame of Spirit, too obstinate,  
To be by me prevailed upon  
With any Motives of my own:  
And therefore strove to counterfeit  
The devil a while, to Nick your Wit.  
The Devil, that is your constant Crony,  
That only can prevail upon ye;  
Else we might still have been disputing,  
And they with weighty Drubs confuting.   

The Knight, who now began to find  
Th' had left the Enemy behind;  
And saw no farther harm remain,  
But feeble Weariness and Pain,  
Perceived, by losing of their Way,  
Th' had gained th' advantage of the Day;  
And by declining of the Road,  
They had by chance their Rear made good.  
He ventured to dismiss his Fear,  
That part's want to Rant and Tear.  
And gives the desperat'st Attack  
To danger, still behind its Back.  
For, having pawsed to recollect,  
And on his past Success reflect,  
T' examine and consider why,  
And whence, and how, he came to fly;  
And when no Devil had appeared,  
What else, it could be said, he feared?  
It put him in so fierce a Rage;  
He once resolved to re-engage;  
Tossed like a Football back again,  
With Shame, and Vengeance, and Disdain.   

Quoth he, It was thy Cowardice  
That made me from this Leaguer rise;  
And when I had half reduced the place,  
To quit it infamously base.  
Was better covered by thy New  
Arrived Detachment than I knew:  
To slight my new Acquest, and run  
Victoriously, from Battles won.  
And reckoning all I gained or lost,  
To sell them cheaper than they cost,  
To make me put myself to flight;  
And Conquering, run away by night.  
To drag me out, which th' haughty Foe,  
Durst never have presumed to do.  
To mount me in the dark by force,  
Upon the bare Ridge of my Horse.  
Exposed in Querpo to their Rage,  
Without my Arms and Equipage;  
Lest, if they ventured to pursue,  
I might the unequal Fight renew.  
And, to preserve thy Outward Man,  
Assumed my Place, and led the Van.   

All this, quoth Ralph, I did, 'tis true,  
Not to preserve myself, but you.  
You, who were damned to base Drubs,  
Than Wretches feel in Powd'ring Tubs;  
To mount two wheeled Caroches, worse  
Than managing a Wooden Horse:  
Dragged out through straighter Holes, by th' Ears,  
Erased, or Couped for Perjurers.  
Who, though the Attempt had proved in vain,  
Had had no reason to complain:  
But since it prospered, 'tis unhandsome  
To blame the Hand that paid your Ransom:  
And rescued your obnoxious Bones  
From unavoidable Battoons.  
The Enemy was reinforced,  
And we disabled and unhorsed:  
Disarmed, unqualified for Fight;  
And no way left, but hasty Flight.  
Which, though as desperate in the Attempt,  
Has given you freedom to condemn't.   

But were our Bones in fit Condition  
To reinforce the Expedition,  
'Tis now unseasonable, and vain,  
To think of falling on again:  
No Martial Project to surprise,  
Can ever be attempted twice;  
Nor cast design serve afterwards,  
As Gamesters tear their losing Cards.  
Beside, our bangs of man and Beast  
Are fit for nothing now but Rest.  
And for a while will not be able  
To rally, and prove serviceable.  
And therefore I with reason chose  
This Stratagem, t' amuse our Foes.  
To make an Honourable Retreat,  
And wave a total sure Defeat:  
For, those that fly, may fight again,  
Which he can never do that's slain.  
Hence timely Running's no mean part  
Of Conduct, in the Martial Art,  
By which some Glorious Feats achieve  
As Citizens, by breaking, thrive.  
And Cannons conquer Armies, while  
They seem to draw off and recoil.  
Is held the gallantest Course, and bravest,  
To great Exploits, as well as safest:  
That spares the Expense of Time and Pains,  
And dangerous beating out of Brains.  
And in the end prevails, as certain,  
As those that never trust to Fortune;  
But make their Fear do Execution,  
Beyond the stoutest Resolution;  
As Earthquakes kill, without a Blow,  
And only trembling, overthrow.  
If th' Ancients Crowned their bravest men  
That only saved a Citizen,  
What Victory could e'er be won,  
If every one would save but one?  
Or Fight endangered to be lost,  
Where all resolve to save the most?  
By this means, when a battle's won,  
The War's as far from being done:  
For those that save themselves, and fly,  
Go halves, at least, in th' Victory:  
And sometime, when their loss is small,  
And danger great, they challenge all:  
Print new additions to their Feats,  
And Emendations in Gazettes;  
And when, for furious haste to run,  
They durst not stay to fire a Gun:  
Have done't with Bonfires, and at home,  
Make Squibs and Crackers overcome.   

To set the Rabble on a Flame,  
And keep their Governors from Blame,  
Disperse the News, the Pulpit tells,  
Confirmed with Fireworks, and with Bells:  
And though reduced to that Extreme,  
They have been forced to sing Te Deum;  
Yet, with Religious Blasphemy,  
By flattering Heaven with a Lie,  
And for their Beating, giving Thanks,  
Th' have raised Recruits, and filled their Banks;  
For those who run from the Enemy,  
Engage them equally to fly.  
And when the Fight becomes a Chase,  
Those win the Day, that win the Race;  
And that which would not pass in Fights,  
Has done the Feat with easy Slights.  
Recovered many a desperate Campain,  
With Bourdeaux, Burgundy and Champain.  
Restored the fainting High and Mighty  
With Brandywine and Aquavitae.  
And made them stoutly overcome,  
With Bacrach, Hocamore and Mum:  
Whom, the uncontrolled Decrees of Fate  
To Victory necessitate;  
With which, although they run or burn,  
They unavoidably return:  
Or else their Sultan-Populaces  
Still stra●gle all their routed Bassa's.   

Quoth Hudibras, I understand  
What Fights thou meanest at Sea and Land;  
And who those were that run away,  
And yet gave out th' had won the day:  
Although the Rabble soused them for't,  
O'er Head and Ears in Mud and Dirt.  
'Tis true, our Modern way of War  
Is grown more politic by far;  
But not so resolute and bold,  
Nor tied to Honour, as the Old.  
For, now they laugh at giving Battle,  
Unless it be to Herds of cattle:  
Or fight Convoys of Provision,  
The whole design of the Expedition.  
And not with downright blows to rout  
The Enemy, but eat them out:  
As Fight in all Beasts of Prey,  
And Eating are performed one way,  
To give defiance to their teeth,  
And fight their stubborn Guts to death,  
And those achieve the highest Renown,  
That bring the other Stomaches down,  
There's now no fear of wounds nor maiming,  
All dangers are reduced to Famine.  
And Feats of Arms, to Plot, Design,  
Surprise, and Stratagem, and Mine.  
But have no need, nor use of Courage,  
Unless it be for Glory, or Forage:  
For if they fight, 'tis but by chance,  
When one side venturing to advance,  
And come uncivilly too near,  
Are charged unmercifully i'th' Rear:  
And forced with terrible resistance,  
To keep hereafter at a distance;  
To pick out Ground to incamp upon  
Where store of largest Rivers run,  
That serve instead of peaceful Barriers  
To part th' Engagements of their Warriors.  
Where both from side to side may skip,  
And only encounter at Bopeep.  
For Men are found the stouter hearted,  
The certainer the are to be parted.  
And therefore post themselves in Bogs,  
As the ancient Mice attacked the Frogs:  
And made their mortal Enemy,  
The Water-Rat, their great Ally.  
For 'tis not now, who's stout and bold;  
But who bears Hunger best, and Cold:  
And he's approved the most deserving,  
Who longest can hold out at starving:  
But he that routs most Pigs and Cows,  
The formidablest Man of Prowess.  
So, the Emperor Caligula,  
That triumphed o'er the British Sea;  
Took Crabs and Oysters Prisoners,  
And Lobsters, 'stead of Cuirassieers;  
Engaged his Legions in fierce Bustles,  
With Periwinkles, Prawns and Muscles:  
And led his Troops with furious Gallops,  
To charge whole Regiments of Scallops.  
Not like their ancient way of War,  
To wait on his Triumphal Carr,  
But when he went to Dine or Sup,  
More bravely eat his Captives up;  
And left all Wars by his Example,  
Reduced to vict'ling of a Camp well.   

Quoth Ralph, by all that you have said,  
And twice as much that I could add,  
'tis plain, you cannot now do worse,  
Than take this out-of-fashioned course:  
To hope by stratagem to woe her,  
Or waging Battle to subdue her.  
Though some have done it in Romances,  
And banged them into amorous Fancies,  
As those who won the Amazons,  
By wanton urubbing of their bones:  
And stout Rinaldo gained his Bride  
By Courting of her Back and Side.  
But since those times and feats are over,  
They are not for a Modern Lover:  
When Mistresses are too cross-grained,  
By such Addresses to be gained:  
And if they were, would have it out,  
With many other kind of Bout.  
Therefore I hold no Course's infesible  
As this of force to win the Jezabel,  
To storm her heart, by th' Antic Charms  
Of Ladies Errand, force of Arms;  
But rather strive by Law to win her,  
And try the Title you have in her,  
Your case is clear, you have her Word,  
And me to witness the Accord.  
Besides two more of her Retinue,  
To testify what passed between you.  
More probable, and like to hold,  
Than Hand, or Seal, or breaking Gold  
For which so many that renounced  
Their plighted Contracts, have been trounced.  
And Bills upon Record been found,  
That forced the Ladies to compound:  
And that, unless I miss the matter,  
Is all the business you look after:  
Besides, Encounters at the Bar,  
Are braver now, than those in War,  
In which the Law does Execution,  
With less Disorder and Confusion:  
Has more of Honour in't some hold,  
Not like the New way, but the Old.  
When those the Pen had drawn together,  
Divided Quarrels with the Feather,  
And winged Arrows killed as dead,  
And more than Bullets now of Lead.  
So all their Combats now, as then,  
Are managed chiefly by the Pen.  
That does ●he Feat, with braver Vigours,  
In words a● length, as well as Figures.  
Is Judge of all the World performs,  
In voluntary Feats of Arms.  
And whatso'ere's achieved in Fight,  
Determines which is wrong or right?  
For whether you Prevail or Lose,  
All must be tried there in the close.  
And therefore 'tis not wise to shun,  
What you must trust to, ere ye have done.   

The Law, that settles all you do,  
And marries where you did but woe.  
That makes the most perfidious Lover,  
A Lady, that's as false, recover:  
And if it judge upon your side,  
Will soon extend her for your Bride;  
And put her Person, Goods, or Lands,  
Or which you like best int' your hands;   

For Law's the Wisdom of all Ages  
And managed by the ablest Sages,  
Who through their Business at the Bar.  
Be but a kind of Civil War.  
In which th' engage with fiercer Dudgeonss  
Than e'er the Grecians did and Trojans.  
They never manage the Contest,  
T' impair their public Interest;  
Or by their Controversies, lessen  
The dignity of their Profession:  
Not like us Brethren, who divide  
Our Commonwealth, the Cause and Side,  
And though w' are all as near of Kindred  
As the outward Man is to the Inward;  
We agree in nothing but to wrangle  
About the slightest fingle fangle,  
While Lawyers have more sober sense,  
Than to argue at their own expense.  
But make their best Advantages,  
Of other quarrels, like the Swiss,  
And out of Foreign Controversies,  
By aiding both sides, fill their Purses.  
But have no interest in the Cause,  
For which th' engage, and wage the Laws:  
Nor further Prospect than their Pay,  
Whether they lose or win the Day.  
And though th' abounded in all Ages,  
With sundry learned Clerks, and Sages;  
Though all their business be Dispute,  
With which they canvas every Suit;  
Th' have no disputes about their Art,  
Nor in polemics controvert.  
While all Professions else are found,  
With nothing but Disputes t' abound;  
Divines of all sorts, and Physicians,  
Philosophers, Mathematicians;  
The Gallenist, and Paracelsian,  
Condemn the way each other deals in▪  
Anatomists dissect and mangle,  
To cut themselves out Work to wrangle.  
Astrologers dispute their Dreams;  
That in their sleeps they talk of Scheme●.  
And Heralds stickle, who got who,  
So many hundred Years ago.   

But Lawyers are too wise a Nation,  
T' expose their Trade to Disputation:  
Or make the busy Rabble Judges,  
Of all their secret Piques, and Grudges:  
In which whoever wins the day,  
The whole Profession's sure to pay.   

Beside, no Mountebanks, nor Cheats  
Dare undertake to do their Feats;  
When in all other Sciences,  
They swarm, like Infects, and Increase:  
For what Bigot durst ever draw,  
By Inward Light, a Deed in Law?  
Or could hold forth, by Revelation.  
An Answer to a Declaration?  
For those that meddle with their Tools  
Will cut their Fingers, if th' are Fools.  
And if you follow their Advice,  
In Bills and Answers, and Replies:  
They'll write a Love-letter in Chancery  
Shall bring her upon Oath to Answer ye.  
And soon Reduce you to b' your Wife,  
Or make her weary of her Life.   

The Knight who used with Tricks and Shifts,  
To Edify by Ralpho 's Gifts:  
But in appearance cried him down,  
To make them better seem his own,  
(All Plagiary 's Constant Course  
Of sinking, when they take a Purse)  
Resolved to follow his Advice,  
But kept it from him in disguise:  
And after stubborn Contradiction,  
To Counterfeit his own Conviction,  
And by Transition, fall upon  
The Resolution, as his own.   

Quoth he; This Gambol thou advisest,  
Is of all others, the unwisest;  
For if I think by Law to gain her,  
There's nothing fillier nor vainer.  
'Tis but to hazard my Pretence,  
Where nothing's certain but th' Expense.  
To act against myself, and traverse  
My Suit and Title to her Favours.  
And if she should, which Heaven forbid,  
O'erthrow me, as the Fiddler did,   

What after-course have I to take,  
Against losing all I have at Stake?  
He that with injury is grieved,  
And goes to Law to be relieved;  
Is sillier than a scottish Chews.  
Who when a Thief has Robbed his house;  
Applies himself to Cunning-men  
To help him to his Goods again.  
When all he can expect to gain,  
Is but to squander more in vain:  
And yet I have no other way,  
But is as difficult, to play.  
For to reduce her, by main force,  
Is now in vain, by fair means, worse:  
But worst of all, to give her over,  
Till she's as desperate to recover.  
For bad Games are thrown up too soon,  
Until th' are never to be won.  
But since I have no other Course,  
But is as bad t' attempt, or worse:  
He that complies against his Will,  
Is of his own Opinion still;  
Which he may adhere to, yet disown,  
For Reasons to himself best known:  
But 'tis not to be avoided now,  
For Sidrophel resolves to sue:  
Whom I must answer, or begin  
Inevitably, first with him.  
For I've received Advertisement,  
By times, enough of his intent;  
And knowing, he that first complains,  
Th' advantage of the business gains.  
For Courts of Justice understand  
The Plaintiff to be eldest hand;  
Who what he pleases may aver  
The other nothing till he swear:  
Is freely admitted to all Grace,  
And Lawful Favour by his place;  
And for his bringing Custom in,  
Has all Advantages to win.  
ay, who resolve to oversee  
No lucky Opportunity,  
Will go to Counsel, to advise  
Which way t' encounter or surprise.  
And after long consideration,  
Have found out one to fit th' occasion;  
Most apt, for what I have to do,  
As Counsellor, and Justice too.  
And truly so, no doubt, he was,  
A Lawyer fit for such a Case.   

An Old Dull Sot; wh' had told the Clock,  
For many years at Bridewel-Dock.  
At Westminster, and Hickses-Hall,  
And Hiccius-Dockius played in all;  
Where in all Governments, and Times,  
HE had been both friend, and foe to Crimes,  
And used two equal ways of gaining,  
By hindering Justice, or maintaining:  
To many a Whore gave Privilege,  
And whipped for want of Quarterage,  
Cart-loads of Bawds, to Prison sent  
For b'ing behind a Fortnight's Rent.  
And many a trusty Pimp and Croney,  
To Puddle-dock, for want of money.  
Engaged the Constable to seize  
All those, that would not break the Peace.  
Nor give him back his own foul words,  
Though sometimes Commoners or Lords:  
And kept 'em Prisoners, of Course,  
For being sober at ill hours.  
That in the Morning he might Free,  
Or bind 'em over, for his Fee.  
Made Monsters fine, and Puppet plays,  
For leave to practice, in their ways:  
Farmed out all Cheats, and went a share,  
With th' Headborough and Scavenger,  
And made the Dirt i'th' Streets Compound,  
For taking up the Public Ground:  
The Kennel and the King's Highway,  
For being unmolested, Pay.  
Let out the Stocks, and Whipping-Post,  
And Cage, to those that gave him most;  
Imposed a Tax on Baker's Ears.  
And for False Weights on Chandellers.  
Made Victuallers, and Vintners Fine  
For Arbitrary Ale and Wine.  
But was a kind and constant Friend  
To all that Regularly offend:  
As Residentiary Bawds,  
And Brokers that receive stolen Goods;  
That cheat in Lawful Mysteries,  
And pay Church-duties, and his Fees;  
But was implacable and aukered  
To all that Interloped, and Hawkered.   

To this brave Man, the Knight repairs  
For Counsel, in his Law-Affairs;  
And found him mounted, in his Pew,  
With Books, and Money placed, for show,  
Like Nest-eggs, to make Clients lay,  
And for his false Opinion pay:  
To whom the Knight, with comely Grace,  
Put off his Hat, to put his Case:  
Which he as proudly entertained.  
As the other courteously strained.  
And to assure him, 'twas not that  
He looked for; Bid him put on's Hat.   

Quoth he, there is one Sidrophel  
Whom I have cudgeled— Very well.  
And now he brags, t' have beaten me.  
Better, and better still, quoth he.  
And vows to stick me to a Wall  
Where e'er he meets me— best of all.  
'Tis true, the Knave has taken's Oath  
That I robbed him— Well done in troth.  
When h'has confessed he stole my Cloak,  
And picked my Fob, and what he took,  
Which was the cause that made me bang him,  
And take my Goods again— marry hang him:  
Now whether I should, before hand  
Swear he robbed me? I understand,  
Or bring my Action of Conversion  
And Trover for my Goods? Ah Whoreson.  
Or if 'tis better to indite,  
And bring him to his Trial?— Right,  
Prevent what he designs to do,  
And swear for th' State against him?— True.  
Or whether he that is Defendant  
In this Case, has the better end on't;  
Who putting in a new cross-bill,  
May traverse th' Action— better still.  
Then there's a Lady too.— I marry,  
That's easily proved accessary.  
A Widow, who by solemn Vows,  
Contracted to me, for my Spouse,  
Combined with him to break her word,  
And has abetted all— Good Lord,  
Suborned the aforesaid Sidrophel,  
To tamper with the devil of Hell.  
Who put me into horrid fear,  
Fear of my Life,— Make that appear.  
Made an assault, with Fiends and Men.  
Upon my body.— Good again.  
And kept me in a deadly fright  
And false Imprisonment all Night,  
Mean while, they robbed me, and my Horse,  
And stole my Saddle,— worse and worse;  
And made mount upon the bare-ridge,  
T' avoid a wretcheder miscarriage.   

Sir, quoth the Lawyer, not to flatter ye,  
You have as Good, and Fair a Battery,  
As heart can wish, and need not shame  
The proudest Man alive to claim.  
For if th' have used you, as you say,  
Marry, quoth I, God give you joy,  
I would it were my Case, I'd give,  
More than I'll say, or you'll believe.  
I would so trounce her, and her Purse,  
I'd make her kneel for bett'r or worse;  
For Matrimony, and Hanging here,  
Both go by destiny so clear,  
That you as sure, may Pick and Choose,  
As Cross I win, and Pile you lose.  
And if I durst, I would advance  
As much, in Ready Maintenance;  
As upon any Case I've known:  
But we that practice dare not own,  
The Law severely contrabands,  
Our taking Business off men's hands;  
'Tis Common barratry, that bears  
Point blank an Action 'gainst our Ears,  
And crops them, till there is not Leather  
To stick a Pin in, left of either;  
For which, some do the Sommer-sault  
And o'er the Bar, like Tumblers, vault.  
But you may swear at any rate  
Things not in Nature, for the State:  
For in all Courts of Justice here  
A Witness is not said to swear,  
But make Oath, that is, in plain terms  
To forge whatever he affirms:  
(I thank you, quoth the Knight, for that,  
Because 'tis to my purpose pat—)  
For Justice, though she's painted blind,  
Is to the weaker side inclined,  
Like charity, else right, and wrong,  
Could never hold it out so long,  
And, like blind Fortune, with a slight,  
Conveys men's Interest, and Right,  
From Stiles' Pocket, into Nokeses:  
As easily as Hocus Pocus.  
Plays fast and loose, makes Men Obnoxious,  
And clear again, like Hiccius-Doctius.  
Then whether you would take her life,  
Or but recover, her for your Wife:  
Or be content with what she has,  
And let all others matters Pass,  
The Business to the Law's alone,  
The proof is all it looks upon.  
And you can want no Witnesses,  
To swear to any thing you please.  
That hardly get their mere Expenses  
By th' Labour of their Consciences,  
Or letting out to hire, their Ears,  
To Affidavit Customers:  
At inconsiderable values,  
To serve for Jurymen, or Tales,  
Although retained in th' hardest matters,  
Of trusties, and Administrators:  
For that, quoth he, let me alone,  
W' have store of such, and all our own,  
Bred up and tutored, by our Teachers,  
The ablest of Conscience-stretchers.  
That's well! Quoth he, But I should Guess,  
By weighing of Advantages.  
Your surest way is first to Pitch  
On Bougey, for a Water-witch:  
And when ye have hanged the Conjurer,  
YE have time enough to deal with her.  
In th' Interim; Spare for no Trepans,  
To draw her Neck, into the Banes;  
Ply her with Love-Letters, and Billets,  
And Bait'em well, for Quirks, and Quillets,  
With Trains t' inveigle and surprise,  
Her Heedless Answers, and replies:  
And if she miss the Moustrap-Lines,  
They'll serve for other By-Designs:  
And make an Artist understand,  
To Copy out her Seal, or Hand:  
Or find void Places in the Paper,  
To steal in something to Entrap her.  
Till with her worldly Goods, and Body,  
Spite of her heart, she has endowed ye   

Retain all sorts of Witnesses,  
That ply i'th' Temples, under Trees.  
Or walk the Round, with Knights o'th' Posts:  
About the Crosslegged Knights, their hosts,  
Or wait for Customers, between  
The Piller-Rows in Lincolns-Inn.  
Where Vouchers, Forgers, Common-bayl,  
And Affidavit-men, ne'er fail  
T' expose to Sale, all sorts of Oaths,  
According to their Ears, and clothes.  
Their only Necessary Tools,  
Besides the Gospel, and their Souls.  
And when ye are furnished with all Purveys  
I shall be ready at your service.   

I would not give, quoth Hudibras,  
A straw to understand a Case,  
Without the admirabler skill  
To Wind, and Manage it at Will:  
To Vere, and Tack, and steer a Cause,  
Against the Weather-gage of Laws;  
And Ring the Changes upon Cases,  
As plain, as Noses upon Faces.  
As you have well instructed me,  
For which you have earned (here 'tis) your Fee,  
I long to practise your advice  
And try the subtle Artifice:  
To bait a Letter, as you bid,  
As not long after, thus he did,  
For having pumped up all his Wit,  
And hummed upon it, thus he writ.    

An Heroical Epistle of Hudibras to his Lady.  

I Who was once as great as Caesar,  
Am now reduced to Nebuchadnezer.  
And from as famed a Conqueror  
As ever took degree in War,  
Or did his Exercise in Battle,  
By you turned out to Grass with cattle.  
For since I am denied access  
To all my Earthly Happiness.  
Am fallen from the Paradise  
Of your good Graces, and fair Eyes.  
Lost to the World, and you, I'm sent  
To Everlasting Banishment,  
Where all the Hopes I had, t' have won  
Your heart, being dashed, will break my own.  
Yet if you were not so severe  
To pass your doom, before you hear,  
You'll find, upon my just defence,  
How much ye have wronged my Innocence,  
That once I made a Vow to you,  
Which yet is unperformed 'tis true;  
But not, because it is unpaid,  
'Tis Violated, though delayed:  
Or if it were, it is no fault  
So heinous, as you'd have it thought,  
To undergo the loss of Ears,  
Like vulgar Hackney Perjurers,  
For there's a difference in the case  
Between the Noble, and the Base:  
Who always are observed t' have done't,  
Upon as different an account:  
The one for great, and weighty Cause,  
To salve in Honour ugly Flaws.  
For none are like to do it sooner,  
Than those, who are nicest of their Honour.  
The other, for base Gain, and Pay,  
Forswear, and Perjure, by the Day;  
And make th' exposing, and retailing  
Their Souls, and Consciences, a Calling.   

It is no Scandal, nor Aspersion,  
Upon a Great and noble Person,  
To say, he naturally abhorred  
Th' old fashioned trick, to keep his Word,  
Though 'tis persidiousness, and shame,  
In meaner Men, to do the same.  
For to be able to Forget,  
Is found more useful, to the Great:  
Then Gout, or Deafness, or bad Eyes,  
To make 'em pass for wondrous wise.  
But though the Law, on Perjurers,  
Inflicts the Forfeiture of Ears;  
It is not just, that does exempt  
The Guilty, and punish the innocent,  
To make the Ears repair the wrong,  
Committed by th' ungoverned Tongue;  
And when one Member is forsworn,  
Another to be cropped or torn.  
And if you should, as you design,  
By course of Law recover mine.  
You're like, if you consider right,  
To gain but little Honour by't.  
For he that for his Lady's sake  
Lays down his Life, or Limbs at Stake,  
Does not so much deserve her Favour,  
As he that pawns his Soul to have her.  
This ye have acknowledged I have done  
Although you now disdain to own:  
But sentence, what you rather ought  
T' esteem good Service, than a Fault.  
Besides, Oaths are not bound to bear  
That Literal Sense, the words infer,  
But by the practice of the Age,  
Are to be judged how far th' engage.  
And where the Sense by Custom's checked,  
Are found void, and of none effect.  
For no Man takes, or keeps a Vow,  
But just as he sees others do,  
Nor are th' obliged to be so brittle,  
As not to yield, and bow a little,  
For as best tempered Blades are found  
Before they break, to bend quite round,  
So truest Oaths are still most tough,  
And though they bow, are breaking-proof.  
Then wherefore shall they not b' allowed  
In love a greater-Latitude?  
For as the Law of Arms approves  
All way● to Conquests, so should Loves;  
And not be tied to true or false,  
But make that justest, that prevails,   

For how can that which is above,  
All Empire, High and Mighty Love,  
Submit it's great Prerogative,  
To any other power alive?  
Shall Love, that to no Crown gives place  
Become the subject of a Case?  
The Fundamental Law of Nature,  
Be overruled! by those made after?  
Commit the censure of its Cause  
To any, but it's own Great Laws?  
Love, that's the World's preservative,  
That keeps all Souls of things alive?  
Controls the Mighty power of Fate,  
And gives Mankind a longer date.  
The Life of Nature, that restores,  
As fast as Time and Death devours,  
To whose free gift, the World does owe  
Not only Earth but Heaven too:  
For Love's the only Trade that's driven  
The Interest of State in Heaven,  
Which nothing but the Soul of Man,  
Is capable to entertain.  
For what can Earth produce, but Love  
To represent the Joys above?  
Or who, but Lovers, can converse,  
Like Angels: by the Eye Discourse?  
Address, and compliment by Vision,  
Make Love, and Court by intuition?  
And burn in amorous Flames as fierce,  
As those Celestial Ministers?  
Then how can any thing offend  
In order, to so great an end?  
Or Heaven itself a Sin resent,  
That for its own supply was meant?  
That merits in a kind mistake,  
A Pardo● for the offences sake.  
Or if it did not, but the Cause  
Were left to th' injury of Laws,  
What tyranny can disapprove  
There should be Equity in Love?  
For Laws that are Inanimate,  
And feel no sense of Love, or Hate:  
That have no Passion of their own,  
Not pity to be wrought upon,  
Are only proper to inflict  
Revenge, or Criminals, as strict  
But to have Power to forgive,  
Is Empire, and Prerogative;  
And 'tis in Crowns, a nobler Gem,  
To grant a Pardon, then condemn.  
Then since so few do what they ought  
'Tis great t' indulge a well-meant fault.  
For why should he, who made address  
All humble ways, without success,  
And met with nothing in return,  
But Insolence, Affronts, and Scorn,  
Not strive by Wit to countermine,  
And bravely carry his Design?  
He who was used so unlike a Soldier,  
Blown up with Philters of Love-Powder?  
And after letting Blood and Purging,  
Condemned to voluntary Scourging?  
Alarmed with many a horrid Fright,  
And clawed, by Goblins, in the Night?  
Insulted on, Reviled and Jeered,  
With rude Invasion of his Beard?  
And when your Sex was foully scandaled,  
As foully by the Rabble handled?  
Attacked by despicable Foes,  
And drubbed with mean and vulgar blows;  
And after all, to be debarred  
So much as standing on his Guard?  
When Horses being spurred and pricked,  
Have leave to kick for being kicked,   

Or why should you, whose Mother Wits  
Are furnished with all Perquisits?  
That with your Breeding Teeth begin,  
And Nursing Babies, that Lie in?  
be allowed to put all tricks upon  
Our Cully-Sex, and we use none?  
We, who have nothing but frail Vows,  
Against your Statagems t' oppose?  
Or Oaths, more feeble than your own,  
By which, we are no less put down?  
You wound, like Parthians, while you fly,  
And kill with a Retreating Eye;  
Retire the more, the more we press,  
To draw us into Ambushes.  
As Pirates all false Colours wear,  
T' entrap th' unwary Mariner:  
So Women, to surprise us, spread  
Their borrowed Flags, of White and Red.  
Display 'em thicker on their Cheeks,  
Than their old Grandmothers, the Picts:  
And raise more Devils with their Looks,  
Than Conjurers less subtle Books,  
Lay Trains of Amorous Intrigues,  
In Towers, and Curls, and Periwigs.  
With greater Art and cunning reared,  
Than Philip Ny's Thanks-giving-beard,  
Prepost'rously t' entice, and Gain  
Those to adore 'em they disdain:  
And only draw 'em in, to clog  
With idle Names, a Catalogue,   

A Lover is, the more he's brave,  
T' his Mistress, but the more a Slave,  
And whatsoever she commands  
Becomes a Favour from her hands;  
Which he's obliged t' obey, and must,  
Whether it be unjust, or just.  
Then when he is compelled by her  
TO Adventures, he would else forbear,  
Who, with his Honour, can withstand,  
Since Force is greater than Command?  
And when Necessity's obeyed  
Nothing can be unjust or bad:  
And therefore when the mighty Powers  
Of Love, your great Ally, and yours;  
Joined Forces, not to be withstood  
By frail enamoured Flesh and Blood;  
All I have done unjust or ill  
Was in obedience to your Will:  
And all the blame that can be due  
Falls to your Cruelty and you.   

Nor are those Scandals I confessed,  
Against my Will, and Interest,  
More than is daily done of course  
By all men, when th' are under force.  
Whence some, upon the Rack, confess  
What th' Hangman and their Prompters please.  
But are no sooner out of pain  
Then they deny it all again.  
But when the Devil turns Confessor,  
Truth is a Crime, he takes no pleasure  
To hear, or pardon, like the Founder  
Of Liars, whom they all claim under.  
And therefore, when I told him none,  
I think it was the wiser done.  
Nor am I without Precedent,  
The first that on th' Adventure, went:  
All Mankind ever did of course,  
And daily does the same, or worse.  
For what Romance can show a Lover,  
That had a Lady to recover,  
And did not steer a nearer Course,  
To fall aboard in his Amours?  
And wha● at first was held a Crime,  
Has turns to Honourable in time.   

To what a height did Infant Rome,  
By Ravishing of Women come?  
When Men upon their Spouses seized,  
And freely Married where they pleased:  
They ne'er Forswore themselves nor Lied,  
Nor in the Minds they were in, Died  
Nor took the pains t' address and sue,  
Nor played the Masquerade to woo.  
Disdained to stay for Friends Consents  
Nor juggled about Settlements:  
Did need no Licence, nor no Priest,  
Nor Friends, nor Kindred to assist;  
Nor Lawyers, to join Land and Money,  
In th' Holy State of Matrimony:  
Before they settled Hands and Hearts,  
Till Alimony, or Death departs:  
Nor would endure to stay, until  
The had got the very Bride's Good Will  
But took a wise and shorter Course,  
To win the Lady's, Downright Force.  
And justly made 'em Prisoners then,  
As they have often since, us Men;  
With Acting Plays, and Dancing Jigs,  
The luckiest of all Love's Intrigues:  
And when they had them at their pleasure,  
Then talked of Love, and Flames, at leisure  
For, after Matrimonies over,  
He that holds out but Half a Lover,  
Deserves for every Minute, more  
Than half a Year of Love before:  
For which the Dames, in Contemplation  
Of that best way of Application,  
Proved Nobler Wives than e'er were known,  
By Suit, or Treaty, to be won:  
And such as all Posterity  
Could never equal, nor come nigh.   

For Women first were made for Men,  
Not Men for them.— It follows then,  
That Men have Right to every one,  
And they no Freedom of their own:  
And therefore Men have power to choose,  
But they no Charter to refuse.  
Hence 'tis apparent, that what Course  
So e'er we take to your Amours,  
Though by the indirectest way,  
'Tis no Injustice, nor Foul Play.  
And that you ought to take that Course,  
As we take you, for Bett'r or Worse;  
And gratefully submit to those  
Who you, before another chose:  
For why should every savage Beast  
Exceed his Great Lord's Interest?  
Have freer Power, than he, in Grace,  
And Nature, o'er the Creature has?  
Because the Laws he since has made  
Have cut off all the Power he had;  
Retrenched the absolute Dominion,  
That Nature gave him, over womans.  
When all his Power will not extend▪  
One Law of Nature to suspend:  
And but to offer to repeal  
The smallest Clause, is to rebel.  
This, if Men rightly understood  
Their Privilege, they would make good;  
And not, like Sots, permit their Wives  
T' encroach on their Prerogatives.  
For which Sin, they deserve to be  
Kept, as they are, in Slavery.  
And this, some precious Gifted Teachers  
Unrev'rently reputed Lechers;  
And disobeyed in making Love,  
Have vowed to all the World, to prove  
And make y●●●ffer, as ye ought,  
For that uncharitable Fault.   

But, I forget myself, and rove  
Beyond th' Instructions of my Love.  
Forgive me (Fair) and only blame  
Th' Extravagancy of my Flame,  
Since 'tis too much, at once to show  
Excess of Love, and Temper too.  
All I have said that's bad, and true,  
Was never meant to aim at you;  
Who have so Sov'rain a Control  
O'er that poor Slave of yours, my Soul:  
That, rather than to forfeit you,  
Has ventured loss of Heaven too.  
Both with an equal Power possessed,  
To render all that serve you Blest:  
But none like him, who's destined, either  
To have, or lose you, both together.  
And if you'll but this fault release,  
(For so it must be, since you please,)  
I'll pay down all that Vow, and more,  
Which you commanded, and I swore,  
And expiate upon my Skin,  
The Arrears in full of all my Sin.  
For, 'tis but just, that I should pay  
Th' accrueing Penance for Delay.  
Which shall be done, until it move  
Your equal pity, and your Love.   

The Knight, perusing this Epistle,  
Believed h'had brought her to his Whistle;  
And read it, like a jocund Lover,  
With great applause t' himself, twice over;  
Subscribed his Name, but at a Fit,  
And humble distance, to his wit;  
And dated it with wondrous Art,  
Given from the bottom of his heart:  
Then sealed it with his Coat of Love  
A smoking Faggot— and above  
Upon a Scroll— I burn, and weep,  
And near it— For her Ladyship;  
Of all her Sex, most excellent,  
These to her gentle Hands present.  
Then gave it to his Faithful Squire,  
With Lessons how t' observe and eye her.   

She first considered which was better,  
To send it back, or burn the Letter:  
But, guessing that it might import,  
Though nothing else, at least, her Sport.  
She opened it, and read it out,  
With many a smile, and learing Flout:  
Resolved to answer it in kind,  
And thus performed what she designed.    

THE LADY'S ANSWER TO THE KNIGHT.  
THat you're a Beast, and turned to Grass,  
Is no strange News, nor ever was;  
At least, to me, who once, you know,  
Did from the Pound, Replevin you.  
When both your Sword, and Spurs, were won  
In Combat, by an Amazon;  
That Sword, that did (like Fate) determine  
Th' Inevitable Death of Vermine:  
And never dealt its furious blows,  
But cut the Threads of Pigs and Cows;  
By Trulla was in single Fight,  
Disarmed and wrested from its Knight.  
Your Heels Degraded of your Spurs,  
And in the Stocks, close Prisoners,  
Where still th' had Lain in base Restraint,  
If I, in pity of your Complaint,  
Had not on Honourable Conditions,  
Releast'em from the worst of Prisons;  
And what Return that favour met,  
You cannot (though you would) forget;  
When, being free, you strove t' evade  
The Oaths you had in Prison made:  
Forswore yourself, and first denied it;  
But after owned, and justified it;  
And when y'had falsely broke one Vow,  
Absolved yourself by breaking two.  
For while you sneakingly submit,  
And beg for Pardon at our Feet:  
Discouraged by your guilty Fears,  
To hope for Quarter for your Ears.  
And doubting 'twas in vain to sue,  
You claim us boldly as your due.  
Declare that Treachery and Force  
To deal with us is th' only Course.  
Who have no Title nor Pretence,  
To Body, Soul, or Conscience:  
But aught to fall to that Man's share,  
That claims us for his proper Ware.  
These are the Motives, which t' induce,  
Or fright us into Love, you use,  
A pretty new way of Gallanting,  
Between Soliciting and Ranting;  
Like sturdy Beggars, that entreat  
For Charity at once, and threat.  
But since you undertake to prove  
Your own Propriety in Love,  
As if we were but Lawful Prize  
In War, between two Enemies;  
Or Forfeitures, which every Lover  
That would but sue for, might recover.  
It is not hard to understand  
The Mystery of his Bold Demand:  
That cannot at our Persons aim,  
But something capable of Claim.  
'Tis not those paltry counterfeit  
French Stones, which in our Eyes you set:  
But our Right Diamonds, that inspire,  
And set your Amorous Heart on fire.  
Nor can those false St. Martin's Beads,  
Which on our Lips you laid for Reds;  
And make us wear, like Indian Dames,  
Add Fuel to your Scorching Flames.  
But those true Rubies of the Rock,  
Which in our Cabinets we lock.  
'Tis not those Orient Pearls, our Teeth,  
That you are so transported with:  
But those we wear about our Necks,  
Produce those Amorous Effects,  
Nor is't those Threads of Gold, our Hair,  
The Periwigs you make us wear:  
But those bright Guinneys in our Chests,  
That light the Wildfire in your Breasts.  
These Love-tricks I've been versed in so,  
That all their sly Intrigues I know.  
And can unriddle, by their Tones,  
The Mystic Cabals, and Jargones.  
Can tell what Passions, by their Sounds,  
Pine for the Beauties of my Grounds:  
What Raptures fond, and Amorous  
O' th' Charms and Graces of my House.  
What Exstacy, and Scorching Flame  
Burns for my Money, in my Name.  
What from th' unnatural desire  
To Beasts and cattle, take its fire.  
What tender Sigh, and trickling Tear,  
Longs for a thousand Pound a Year.  
And Languishing Transports are fond  
Of Statute, Mortgage, Bill and Bond.  
These are th' Attracts which most Men fall  
Enamoured, at first sight, withal.  
To these th' address with Serenades,  
And Cou●t with ●alls and Masquerades;  
And yet, for all the yearning Pain  
Y'have suffered for their Loves, in vain:  
I fear they'll prove so nice and coy,  
To have and t' hold, and to enjoy;  
That all your Oaths, and Labour lost,  
They'll ne'er turn Ladies of the post.  
This is not meant to disapprove  
Your Judgement in your Choice of Love;  
Which is so wise, the greatest part  
Of Mankind studi't as an Art.  
For Love should, like a Deodand,  
Still fall to th' owner of the Land:  
And where there's Substance for its Ground  
Cannot but be more firm, and sound,  
Than that which has the slighten Basis  
Of Airy Virtue, Wit and Graces:  
Which is of such thin Subtlety,  
It steals and creeps in at the Eye.  
And, as it can't endure to sta●  
Steals out again as nice a way  
But Love, that its Extraction owns  
From soiled Gold, and precious Stones;  
Must, like its shining Parents prove  
As Solid, and as Glorious Love.  
Hence 'tis, you have no way t' express  
Our Charms and Graces, but by these:  
For, what are Lips, and Eyes and Teeth,  
Which Beauty invades, and conquers with?  
But Rubies, Pearls and Diamonds;  
With which a Philter Love commands?  
This is the way all Parents prove,  
In imagining their Child's Love;  
That force 'em t' intermarry and wed,  
As if th' were Bur'ing of the Dead.  
Cast Earth to Earth, as in the Grave,  
To join in Wedlock all they have.  
And when the Settlement's in force,  
Take all the rest, For Better, or Worse;  
For Money has a Power above  
The Stars and Fate, to manage Love:  
Whose Arrows, Learned Poets hold,  
That never miss, are tipped with Gold.  
And though some say, the Parents claims  
To make Love in their Child's Names.  
Who, many times, at once, provide  
The Nurse, the Husband, and the Bride.  
Feel Darts and Charms, Attracts and Flames;  
And woe, and contract, in their Names.  
And as they Christian, use to marry 'em,  
And, like their Gossips, answer for 'em:  
Is not to give in Matrimony;  
But sell and prostitute for Mony.  
'Tis better than their own Betrothing;  
Who often do't for worse than nothing.  
And when th' are at their own Dispose,  
With greater disadvantage choose.  
All this is right! But for the Course  
You take to do't, by Fraud or Force:  
'Tis so ridiculous, as soon  
As told, 'tis never to be done  
No more than Setters can betray,  
That tell what Tricks they are to play.  
Marriage, at best, is but a Vow;  
Which all Men either break, or bow:  
Then what will those forbear to do,  
Who perjure, when they do but woe?  
Such as, beforehand, swear and lie,  
For Earnest to their Treachery:  
And, rather than a Crime confess,  
With greater, strive to make it less.  
Like Thiefs, who, after Sentence past,  
Maintain their Innocence to the last.  
And when their Crimes were made appear  
As plain as Witnesses can swear.  
Yet, when the Wretches come to die,  
Will take upon their Death's a Lye.  
Nor are the Virtues, you confessed  
TO your Ghostly Father, as you guest,  
So slight, as to be justified,  
By being, as shamefully, denied.  
As if you thought your Word would pass  
Point-blank, on both sides, of a Case,  
Or Credit were not to be lost,  
B' a Brave Knight Errand of the post.  
That eats, perfidiously, his Word,  
And swears his Ears through a two Inch Board:  
Can own the same thing, and disown;  
And perjure Booty, Pro and Con.  
Can make the Gospel serve his turn,  
And help him out to be forsworn;  
When 'tis laid hands upon, and kissed,  
To be betrayed, and sold, like Christ.  
These are the Virtues, in whose Name  
A Right to all the World you claim:  
And boldly challenge a Dominion,  
In Grace and Nature, o'er all Women.  
Of whom, no less will satisfy,  
Than all the Sex, your Tyranny.  
Although you'll find it a hard Province,  
With all your crafty Frauds and Covins,  
To govern such a numerous Crew,  
Who, one by one, now govern you:  
For if you all were solomon's,  
And Wise and Great as he was once,  
You'll find Th' are able to subdue,  
(As they did him) and baffle you.  
And if you are imposed upon,  
'Tis by your own Temptation done:  
That with your Ignorance invite,  
And teach us how to use the slight.  
For, when we find ye are still more taken  
With false Attracts of our own making;  
Swear that's a Rose, and that a Stone,  
Like Sots to us that laid in on:  
And what we did but slightly prime,  
Most ignorantly daub in Rhyme:  
You force us in our own Defences,  
To copy Beams and Influences;  
To lay Perfections on the Graces,  
And dr●w Attracts upon our Faces:  
And, in compliance to your Wit,  
Your own false Jewels counterfeit.  
For, by the practice of those Arts,  
We gain a greater share of Hearts:  
And those deserve in reason most,  
That greatest pains and study cost;  
For, great Perfections are like Heaven,  
Too rich a Present to be given.  
Nor are those Master-strokes of Beauty  
To be performed without hard Duty:  
Which, when th' are nobly done, and well,  
The simple Natural excel.  
How fair and sweet the planted Rose,  
Beyond the Wild in Hedges grows?  
For, without Art, the Noblest Seeds  
Of Flowers degenerate to Weeds:  
How dull and rugged e'er 'tis Ground?  
And Polished, looks a Diamond?  
Though Paradise was e'er so fair,  
It was not kept so without Care.  
The whole World, without Art and Dress,  
Would be but one great Wilderness.  
And Mankind but a Savage Herd,  
For all that Nature has conferred.  
This does but Rough-hew, and Design,  
Leave Art to Polish, and Refine,  
Though Women first were made for Men,  
Yet Men were made for them again:  
For when (out- witted by his Wife)  
Man first turned Tenant, but, for Life.  
If Women had not intervened,  
How soon had Mankind had an end?  
And that it is in Being yet,  
To us alone, you are in Debt,  
Then where's your liberty of Choice,  
And our unnatural No-voice?  
Since all the Privilege you boast,  
And falsely usurped, or vainly lost,  
Is now our Right; to whose Creation,  
You owe your Happy Restoration.  
And if we had not weighty Cause  
To not appear in making Laws,  
We could, in spite of all your Tricks,  
And Shallow, Formal Politics;  
Force you, our Managements t' obey,  
As we to yours (in show) give way.  
Hence 'tis, that while you vainly strive  
T'advance your high Prerogative,  
You basely, after all your Braves,  
Submit, and own yourselves our Slaves.  
And 'cause we do not make it known  
Nor Publicly our interests own;  
Like Sots, suppose we have no shares  
In ordering you, and your Affairs:  
When all your Empire and Command  
You have from us at Second Hand,  
As if a Pilot, that appears  
To sit still only, while he steers:  
And does not make a noise and stir.  
Like every common Mariner  
Knew nothing of the Card nor Star;  
And did not guide the Man of War.  
Nor we, because we don't appear  
In Counsels, do not govern there.  
While like the Mighty Prester John,  
Whose Person none dares look upon;  
But is preserved in Close Disguise  
From being made cheap to vulgar Eyes  
W' enjoy as large a Power unseen,  
To govern him, as he does Men:  
And, in the Right of our Pope Joan,  
Make Emp'rors at our feet fall down.  
Or Joan the Pucel's braver Name,  
Our Right to Arms and Conduct claim  
Who, though a Spinster, yet was able,  
To serve France for a Grand Constable.  
We make and execute all Laws;  
Can judge the Judges, and the Cause.  
Prescribe all Rules of Right or Wrong,  
To th' Long Robe, and the Longer Tongue;  
'Gainst which the World has no defence,  
But our more powerful Eloquence.  
We manage things of greatest weight  
In all the World's Affairs of State.  
Are Ministers of War and Peace,  
That sway all Nations how they please.  
We rule all Churches, and their Flocks,  
Heretical, and Orthodox.  
And are the Heavenly Vehicles  
O' th' Spirit, in all Conventicles.  
By us is all Commerce and Trade  
Improved, and managed, and decayed.  
For, nothing can go off so well,  
Nor bears that Price, as what we sell.  
We rule in every Public Meeting,  
And make Men do what we judge fitting.  
Are Magistrates in all great Towns;  
Where Men do nothing but wear Gowns.  
We make the Man of War strike S●il,  
And to our braver Conduct vail▪  
And, when h'has chased his Enemies,  
Submit to us upon his Knees.  
Is there an Officer of State,  
Untimely raised; or Magistrate,  
That's Haughty, and Imperious?  
He's but a Journeyman to us.  
That, as he gives us cause to do't,  
Can keep him in, or turn him out.  
We are your Guardians, that increase,  
Or Waste your Fortunes, how we please,  
And, as you humour us, can deal  
In all your Matters ill or well.  
'Tis we that can dispose alone,  
Whether your Heirs shall be your own.  
To whose Integrity you must,  
In spite of all your Caution, trust,  
And ' less you fly beyond the Seas,  
Can fit you which what Heirs we please:  
And force you● ' own 'em, though begotten  
By Fre●ch Valets, or Irish Footmen.  
Nor can the rigorousest Course  
Prevail, unless to make us worse.  
Who, still the harsher we are used,  
Are further off from being reduced:  
And scorn t' abate, for any Ills,  
The least Punctilio of our Wills.  
Force does but whet our Wits to apply  
Arts, born with us, for Remedy:  
Which all your Politics, as yet,  
Have ne'er been able to defeat.  
For, when ye have tried all sorts of ways,  
What Fools d'we make of you in Plays?  
While all the Favours we afford,  
Are but to gird you with the Sword,  
To fight our Battles in our steads,  
And have your Brains beat out o' your Heads:  
Encounter in despite of Nature;  
And fight at once with Fire and Water,  
With Pirates, Rocks, and Storms and Seas,  
Our Pride and Vanity t' appease.  
Kill one another, and cut Throats,  
For our good Graces, and best Thoughts;  
To do your Exercise for Honour,  
And have your Brains beat out the sooner;  
Or cracked, as Learnedly, upon  
Things that are never to be known:  
And still appear the more industrious,  
The more your Projects are preposterous.  
To square the Circle of the Arts;  
And run stark mad to show your Parts,  
Expound the Oracle of Laws,  
And turn them which way we see Cause.  
Be our Solicitors, and Agents,  
And stand for us in all Engagements.  
And these are all the Mighty Powers,  
You vainly boast, to cry down ours.  
And what in real Value's wanting,  
Supply with Vapouring and Ranting:  
Because yourselves are terrified,  
And stoop to one another's Pride:  
Believe we have as little Wit  
To be Out-hectored, and Submit:  
By your Example, lose that Right  
In Treaties, which we gained in Fight:  
And terrified into an Awe,  
Pass on ourselves a Salic Law,  
Or, as some Nations use, give place,  
And truckle to your Mighty Race.  
Let Men usurp th' unjust Dominion,  
As if they were the better Women.  
FINIS.