Butler's Ghost: OR, HUDIBRAS. The Fourth Part. WITH Reflections upon these Times.  
jacta est alea. Eras—  
LONDON, Printed for joseph Hindmarsh, at the Black-Bull in Cornhill, over against the Royal-Exchange, 1682.   


A second and a third time too,  
This doglike Fate has been your due,  
Had not propitious Fortune swayed,  
And from the danger you conveyed.  
And now upon this slight occasion,  
To make upon yourself Invasion,  
Instead of Towns where Plunder lies,  
Take your own Castle by surprise:  
For you yourself to act Squire Dun,  
Such Ignominy ne'er saw the Sun.   

But pardon, if ye are such a Tony,  
To pine for Wormwood Matrimony;  
If like our Lovers in Romances,  
Y'are plagued with Dreams, and fleeting Fancies;  
When midst the joys that Love infuses,  
Phillis ne'er gets, though Damon loses,  
And cannot prop the tottering Nation,  
Till deeds are done of Generation.  
Dismount your wooden Courser strait,  
Then to Advice incline your Pate;  
And if I do not show a way  
To make her your Commands obey;  
If she don't listen to your Fiddle,  
And follow ye as Thread does Needle;  
Nay kiss ye, hug ye, and Adore ye,  
Within a Week then I'll hang for ye   

At this the Knight did silence break,  
First taking th' Cord from off his Neck,  
Well pleased to hear that cheerful noise,  
Which now he knew was Ralpho's Voice:  
Who as Fate ordered sleeping lay  
Upon a Bundle of fresh Hay:  
Yet to pursue the Humour on,  
Begun this Counterfeiting Moan.   

Is there, ye Powers, no Station free?  
No place of Rest for Misery?  
Unlucky Squire! hadst thou been gone,  
My business had e'er this been done,  
And I thronged with Seraphic Loves,  
In Sacred and Immortal Groves.   

For Heaven's sake, quoth the Squire, Sir Knight,  
Once in your life-time be in th' right;  
And let me (though perhaps unfit  
To sighed your battles) teach you Wit.  
He that admires you Azure Skies,  
And longs to taste Eternal joys.  
ere Nature half his thread has Wove,  
Is like that Niggardly damned Oaf;  
That having Gold and jewels store,  
Leapt into th' Sea to dive for more;  
And so, like Esop's Dog, was crossed;  
Who snatching shadows, substance lost:  
Besides, I fear he that should scan  
Your inward, and your outward Man,  
Examine your offences Rife,  
And weigh the Actions of your life,  
Would find you are, for all your jokes,  
Unfit for Heaven as other folks.  
But from the Brethren I believe  
You learned this Custom to deceive;  
Who, to be thought devoutly given,  
Do always wish themselves in Heaven;  
When for all the Saints and Angels there.  
They had rather be with Sister here,  
And only use that Canting Notion,  
As proper to their feigned Devotion.  
There is a Tale, whose Moral's good,  
Of an Old man, that gathering Wood,  
Grown sick with Age, and out of breath,  
Sat down upon't, and wished for Death.  
Death strait appearing, cried, I'm here,  
And come to end thy Mortal Care.  
He seeing Monsieur Bloody-bone,  
And that there was no way but one;  
Shaking through fear, now ten times more  
Than e'er he did for Age before,  
Cried, Sir, your Help I only lack  
To lift my Wood upon my back.   

Friend, quoth the Knight, this simile,  
Though good, can ne'er allude to me;  
And thou these Figures dost Commence,  
Only to cloak thy Ragged sense;  
Else why this Story in this place,  
Whose purport's nothing to my Case;  
At least so little, that I doubt  
I've hardly brains to find it out:  
Like bellowing Friar, that when he preaches,  
Religion in cramp Latin teaches,  
And mouths it with conceited Passion,  
T' amuse the Ignorant Congregation,  
With Rhetoric, and specious Stories,  
Fine sham's, and pleasing Allegories;  
Roves wide, and schools the Female Sex,  
Till he has quite forgot his Text.  
So hast thou ranged about, to bring  
A Tale that's nothing to the thing;  
Yet in the Banter made more flaws  
Than Lawyers, when they thrash a Cause:  
For when did I exclaim for Death,  
For being old, or out of breath,  
For Sickness sake make such a motion,  
Or case of Conscience, or Devotion?  
Is not Despair in Loves Intrego,  
Of greater moment than an Ague?  
Or can the Toothache ere compare  
With th' Heart-ach for a wealthy Fair?  
And though I should from Beam turn over,  
And show Example of true Lover,  
Yet for a less cause so to die,  
I think there's little reason why.   

Quoth Ralph, You have much cause to know,  
When it is fit to die, and how;  
Yet those that saw you in that place,  
Would guests ye had very little Grace:  
But for that a valiant Knight should swing,  
Take Pet, and die like Dog in string,  
For Widow, a staunch cunning Dame,  
Not to be got by Love, but Shame;  
That likes not those that most admire her,  
But those that at her own tricks tyre her.  
Like Salmon, that with Line and Hook  
Are wearied first, and then are took;  
That he in Death his Love should quench,  
When I can help him to the Wench;  
Nay, all her Wards and Passes break,  
Or else I'll forfeit here— my Neck;  
Must be th' Effect of Melancholy,  
Or brainless Presbyterian Folly.   

Quoth Hudibras, Now by my Sword,  
Bold Squire, I take thee at thy word;  
Thy Thesis here I do insist on,  
And therefore now take care that 'tis done:  
For shouldst thou fail, I swear by Mars,  
By th' Moon, and my propitious Stars,  
Nay, by my now expected Marriage,  
Thy Head shall answer the miscarriage.   

Hold, hold, quoth Ralpho, good Sir Knight,  
First let us settle all things right,  
My Head's not such a thing of no worth,  
'Tis to be shamed away, and so forth,  
And by a threatening be effected,  
Like his that the Black Box expected.  
There's yet to be a small Harangue,  
A word or two before I hang;  
And though I promised you her Heart,  
'Twas not except you did your part.  
I like a Tool do idle stand,  
Without the Workman's helping hand:  
For as a Christian Merchant drew,  
And sealed a Bond once to a jew,  
A Pound of Flesh should th' Forfeit pay,  
If he did fail, and break his Day:  
Which happening, and th' Infidel  
To weigh the Flesh had fetched a Scale,  
The Merchant cries, your Bond is good  
For Flesh, but not one drop of Blood;  
If thou spill'st that, thou murder'st me,  
And then the Law takes hold on thee.  
So though this friendly Oath I made,  
I did not say without your Aid.  
A Pound of Flesh I gave, 'tis true,  
But the Life Blood still lies in you,  
You must the Matrimony teach her,  
Tho I perform the Pimp to fetch her,  
And do your best to make her join,  
Or else your Head's as due as mine:  
But if you'll calmly take advice,  
And be by my Example, wise,  
Aiding the trick with best endeavour,  
I once more promise, you shall have her.   

Take there my Hand, quoth Hudibras,  
Descending with an awkered Grace,  
My Hand the Earnest of my Heart,  
That I'll not fail to do my part;  
And though our last Efforts were vain,  
For all the Wisdom of thy Brain,  
Yet I have now especial hope  
Thou'lt do't, for fear of fatal Rope.  
Thy judgement I'll insist upon,  
And banish for a while my own.  
And as some valiant Knights of late,  
That were in Love unfortunate,  
Have (seeking there attractive Plackets)  
For Frolic worn their Footman's jackets:  
And sometimes to their Wits given place,  
Their own being lost, or out of case;  
So I thy sense will now pursue,  
And think I but receive my due▪  
For if I Wages give my Squire,  
His Head as well as Heels I hire,  
And have no doubt, as th' Law maintains,  
Substantial Title to his Brains.  
Then speak bold Wight, and may thy Wit,  
Like Cato's, Fame Immortal get;  
For I have argued long, and fought,  
And yet at last have nothing got,  
But frowning Scorns, and smarting Flaws,  
From her, and for the Good old Cause,   

That Good old Cause, that trick for Money;  
Quoth Ralpho, has Sir Knight undone ye.  
'Twas by your sneaking starched behaviour,  
You lost all Titles to her Favour;  
For as to th' Loyal, and the Brave,  
The more you look Reformed and Grave,  
The more your Deeds are thought amiss,  
More noted your Hipocrisie's.  
So here the more you strove t' improve  
The Cause, the less you won her Love;  
The more your Hat hung o'er your Face,  
The less she still approved your Grace;  
And when you would sight o'er, or weep,  
The Civil Wars— in Tale— she'd sleep,  
And wittily then make appear,  
You ever took wrong Sow by th' Ear;  
And therefore cared not Three pence for ye,  
You being a Whig, and she a Tory.  
Besides, what Lady is not scared,  
Odsheart! at that confounded Beard!  
That Bush that grieves your Heart to lose't,  
Where living Creatures swarm and roost;  
That Face now changed to Saffron hue,  
Begrimed by Dust and Nature too.  
Or can you think that bit of Band,  
Has Charm enough to make her fond?  
Or that your threadbare Coat's enough,  
Or shapeless Gloves, with Thumbs bit off,  
ere in her Heart to gain a Place,  
Or sit Enthroned in her good Grace?  
Or can that piece of Cloak, which now  
Just makes you like St. Martin show,  
By careless negligence surprise,  
And steal her Heart through wondering Eyes?  
'Tis true, in Gallantry there's Charm,  
That oft do Ladies Passions warm;  
One Spark his Mistress does subdue,  
By a pinched Foot in high-heeled Shoe;  
Another a great Heiress got,  
By a large dazzling Shoulder-Knot,  
One that prized more Gay Pantaloon,  
Than all the Wit below the Moon;  
A third into great favour grows,  
Through the Dimensions of his Nose;  
By which the Victors of our Hearts  
Serenely guests our better Parts.  
A certain Lady loved her Coachman,  
A brawny Fellow, born a Dutchman  
By seeing once the hungry Thief  
Devour a large Surloin of Beef,  
And pitch the Bar by active strength,  
Beyond the rest three times his length;  
At which she'd be much pleased, and laugh.  
Another Lady loved a Dwarf;  
And being asked what fiend could move her,  
To take Sir Dumplin for a Lover?  
Her answer was, She satisfied  
Both Female Passions, Love and Pride,  
For when the purring Hour was gone,  
If Gallant any fault had done,  
That she designed to be revenged,  
And he could merit to be swinged:  
Trussed on her Knee she'd briskly taw him,  
And, like Virago, clapperclaw him.  
Such trivial things Love often finds  
(By fancy swayed) to fetter Minds;  
But that a Wight for Wit distressed,  
Ill stored with Courtship, and worse dressed,  
That contradicts her fair opinion,  
And yet designs to be her Minion.  
And though in sneaking formal Habit,  
For Puss imagines to get a bit,  
That he should charm a Woman's Blood,  
The Devil's in her if he should.   

Quoth Hudibras, thy Tongue will fail  
To speak, when it forgets to Rail;  
Thy Malice gets pre-eminence,  
And soon overflows thy creeping sense.  
And as Attorney dull, that uses  
To fall from Arguing to Abuses,  
Thou leav'st my weighty Cause to scan,  
To rally on my outward Man,  
And no Redress or Counsels heard,  
By fooling with my Band and Beard,  
As if my Parts were less Serene,  
Because my Garments are but mean;  
Or that Diogenes' Soul  
Were th' base, 'cause his Shirt was foul.  
Most precious jewels oft are worn  
In threadbare Cases, old and torn;  
Nay, th' Soul itself, that's richer far  
Than all the brightest jewels are,  
As most o'th' wisest Elders say,  
Has but a Casket formed of Clay;  
And as to my Opinion— Fool,  
Know, th' Brethren hold this for a Rule,  
That Interest does the matter frame,  
Religion's but a taking Name;  
'Tis our Leaf Gold that hides the ill,  
And guilds the Poison of our Pill:  
When a Fanatic cheats found out,  
Observe he always turns Devout,  
Prays daily, and with Pious flame  
Conceals the blackness of his Shame:  
So wanton Girls too hot to tarry,  
Do th' trick, and then to hide it— Marry.  
Therefore if that Create thy fear,  
Take Courage, for I'll make't appear,  
Religion for our ends we use,  
As those that want, do wealthy jews.   

Quoth Ralph, This generous explaining,  
Sir Knight, is better much than feigning;  
For what would Canting signify,  
To one that has found out the Lie?  
'Tis halting just before a Cripple,  
And teaching Faction to the People,  
And you much less are found Aggressor,  
So much the more you are Confessor.  
Therefore the business to pursue,  
That I may be as plain with you,  
See but these three Injunctions done,  
Then boldly say, the Lady's won.  
First, off with that superfluous Hair,  
And in its stead Heart-breakers wear;  
That Beard, the rugged Type of War,  
Let it be shaved and Chin be bare;  
For though a sturdy Soldier known  
For daring Acts in Forty one,  
Loyal and Valiant famed in both,  
Once took a rash, though honest Oath,  
" No Razor e'er should touch his Chin,  
" Or mow a Hair till th' King came in▪  
I hope you have not sworn the same,  
Until you should achieve the Dame:  
She would be frighted, for you wear  
A Cupid dreadful as a Bear.  
When have you e'er in Picture seen  
The God of Love, with Bearded Chin;  
Or with that Ornamental Grace,  
To deck the Finis of his Face.  
The Ancients paint him like a Child,  
Young, soft, smooth, beautiful, and wild,  
To show he cannot be confined,  
And there's no Prison for the Mind;  
But to change him into reverend Genus,  
Is to make Saturn of a Venus.  
In th' second place, Him— him— I say.  
But here his Brains being out o'th' way,  
The Squire bogled for Conception,  
To give our Hero more direction:  
His Ancestor's Laconic Soul  
Had charmed the inside of his Pole;  
And dulness, as his proper place,  
Took legal Seizure of his Face;  
Until with three large Hums and Has,  
The Rubbing-Brush o'th' canting Cause,  
By which the Saints themselves express,  
And scrub up their Remembrances;  
He freed himself from stupid Yoke  
Of fettered Fancy— and thus spoke.   

Quoth he, You must in th' second place  
Unstrip from out that ragged Case;  
Those Leathern Breeches too must soon  
Be turned into gay Pantaloon,  
And that small Band of low Degree,  
Into Cravat of Point-venee;  
That reverend Stole begrimed with Dirt,  
Must off, and in its stead a Shirt  
Of Holland, Cambric, or fine Lawn,  
Must shroud the Bum's Heroic Brawn.  
Clean Linen is a gentle mover  
Of Passion, and a Friend to Lover,  
Renders the Person neat and grateful,  
That would on th' contrary be hateful.  
This makes the plump young Lady play  
The Huswife, and shift twice a day;  
When blooming Youth, and wanton Heat,  
And Love and Summer make her sweat,  
And the Soul's Aromatic Store  
Sheds balmy Dews from every Poor,  
At least as we that Love imagine,  
When our fond Hearts are caught in a Gin.  
Thirdly, to win the slippery Dame,  
Sir, you must wheedle, lie, and shame,  
" For Widows, like a Sharpers' bets,  
" Are got by Shuffling and Cheats.   

Wriggle yourself into th' acquaintance,  
(The better to defend the main-chance)  
Of her Kinsmen, Overseers, and trusties,  
They ten to one will do you justice;  
For the only sure way to defeat her,  
That is, in downright terms to Cheat her,  
Is to trapan with Golden Bribe,  
The Consciences of all that Tribe,  
Who still are fittest to procure,  
And Pimp for such as come to Woe her.   

Amongst those her Husband did appoint her,  
To make account for Lands and jointure,  
Two City Patriots are named,  
And in our modern Stories famed,  
Who to purge the Town, have undertaken,  
Of Pope, and French, and K— and D—  
And set their Zealous Brethren free  
From haughty Clogs of Monarchy:  
The one Squire Stalliano height,  
That lately might have been a Knight,  
Had he loved Honour, that Chameleon,  
More than Sedition, and Rebellion:  
But he was of your constant hue,  
Old Forty one Fanatic Blue;  
Tho modern Statists now are seen,  
To change the Colour into Green;  
A secret and implicit Type,  
That their Brains Projects are not ripe,  
And will no honoured Title take,  
But from a Prince himself shall make.  
As to his Person, 'tis like Hector's,  
Burly and large, as the Protector's,  
Whom he with Pride does imitate,  
And hopes to reach his soaring Fate,  
When Whigs, like Wasps, shall once more seize  
The Honey of the Loyal Bees,  
He's one Abjured the Royal Race,  
And there's a Story writ in's Face  
Of all the Villainies that Man  
e'er acted since the World began.  
His half-shut Eyes were never seen  
To look abroad since th' King came in,  
But blink, as if they could not see  
In th' Sunshine of a Monarchy.  
So have I seen a purblind Owl  
All day sit lurking in a hole,  
Plotting, like th' Saints, for Commonweal,  
Dull as their Wit, blind as their Zeal,  
And never open his Saucer Eyes,  
Till night does all the World surprise;  
But then with shrieks from hollow Breast,  
He robs the People of their Rest,  
And seizes with more ease his Prey,  
Than if it were in th' brightest day.  
By Fortune favoured, th' lowering Novice  
Was made a potent Knave in Office,  
Strong, opulent, and formidable,  
Razed up, and backed by nasty Rabble,  
Who threw up greasy Gloves and Caps,  
And opened wide their bawling Chaps,  
To Choose one that the Crowd could swell  
With proper Tenets to Rebel:  
Learned in Law he was, and famous,  
Profoundly skilled in Ignoramus;  
Could Conscientious juries' pack,  
And tie the Foreman to the Stake,  
Teach him to vault, come over th' Stick,  
And as he winked, make Spaniel speak;  
Black fate's Commissioner he lived,  
And like her by Confusion thrived;  
Hung, drew, and quartered Folks for Sin,  
And spared, and saved, as Pence came in,  
Lopped by the head offending Peers,  
Not giving time to say their Prayers,  
Made quick dispatch of all were brought,  
That were, or were not in the Plot,  
And with the Hangman went a snack  
In all the Money he did take  
From Traitors, Priests, or Knights of Roads,  
Cheats, Burglarers, or Whores and Bawds,  
Till Catch observing he was choosed,  
And in his Profits much abused.  
In open Hall the Tribune duned  
To do his Office, or refund.  
In public Matters, every hour  
He gave Men cause to know his Power;  
Oft through the Streets, like 
* Corn-cutter.  Stephen, rid,  
Butter to weigh, and Loaves of Bread:  
And that he might be sure to right  
Himself, if any wanted weight,  
He'd send it, not where th' Law allows,  
To th' City Gaol, but to his House,  
Not to relieve the starving Rabble,  
But to help out his starving Table:  
Thus making Proverb aptly come,  
That Charity begins at home.   

The tother (to give both their due)  
Is the most famous of the two,  
And with more Demons is possessed,  
Tho clothed in th' Cassock of a Priest.  
Doctoro, styled in S—  
But here stands in the noted Rank  
Of those, that to their lasting Fames  
Have no Religion, nor no Names.  
By Chemist Nature he was drawn  
From Rebel Anabaptist Brawn,  
And wisely to himself was Donor,  
Of Name, and also Style of Honour;  
As late a judge affirmed to right us;  
No Doctor, Gentleman, nor T—  
" For if that Sect, as plain appears,  
" Are often their own Godfathers,  
" As plainly 'tis supposed, that he  
" Gave himself Baptism, and Degree;  
He all Religions has professed,  
" No doubt t' inform him which was best,  
And been as nicely true to all,  
" As to his Landlord of Whitehall.  
Sometimes he's Orthodox— then Papist,  
Now Whig— and then as oft an Atheist;  
Can Curse ye, God confound 'em all,  
As loud as any Roarer shall,  
Each pious Sect for Gain can use,  
Or shift it as he does his Shoes;  
And if it chance to go awry,  
Can change, or else can lay it by.   

Kind Nature has, to teach him Grace,  
Painted a Blush upon his Face,  
As if she were ashamed to know  
The Mischiefs that he prompts her to:  
Nay more, to place her Favours high,  
In Mystic Phisyognomy.  
" His Mouth she fixed with curious Hand,  
" Where other people's Noses stand.  
" Just by his Eyes with studious Care,  
" That he might see what he does swear;  
" Yet runs he blundering wrong or right,  
" As heartless Cowards wink and fight.  
Of Oaths he has upon occasion,  
A Storehouse to oblige the Nation.  
Amongst Knights o'th' Post was still renowned,  
He all their Acts with Conduct crowned,  
Secured their Ears, shuffled and cut,  
Swore People into Plots, and out;  
Perjured himself, or else refrained,  
Just as the Daemon in him reigned.  
" Once did a good thing against his Will,  
" But for it since a thousand ill.  
And as for th' Church's Interests,  
(And Royal Pay) he routed Priests;  
So when the Bounty was restrained,  
And Golden Showers no longer reigned,  
He told the Senate many a Lie  
Of Priests, t'exalt Presbytery,  
And falsehoods blacker than his Coat is,  
Were sealed with Verbo Sacerdotis.   

For Pride, he does surpass all Comers,  
Nay, all his Brethren at St. Omers,  
And held it an unfitting thing  
To veil his Cap, though to the King;  
But to all Noblemen and Peers  
He scorned, although they put off theirs.  
He called the painful Clergy, Rats  
Of low and despicable Fates,  
And often plagued their Ears with noise,  
From Canting, Squeaking, Bagpipe voice,  
To prove their preaching, or their hearing,  
ne'er profits like Emphatic Swearing,  
He covets to be styled the Pater  
Patriae, or at least Salvator;  
Vows to his lasting Fame, not long since  
He saved the Town through Case of Conscience.  
And now although he saved their Souls,  
They wish him hanged as high as Paul's.  
A most ungrateful thing, I vow,  
" Were all his Depositions true!  
But as sly Sinon once looked honest,  
And yet was found a Villain soon,  
For all his Tears, and Oaths, and Tricks,  
Betrayed Old Ilium to the Greeks;  
So our Doctore, with Clodpate Faction,  
Gulled by his sham's, and close Transaction,  
His Arguments, and Senseless Babble,  
With which he Baldernoes the Rabble;  
With groundless Fears distracts the Town,  
For Rebels Interests, and his own,  
And only roots out Romish Prigs,  
The sooner to get in the Whigs.   

These two, to make her Fame the greater,  
Her Husband did intrust to cheat her,  
As if he, Prophet-like, discovered,  
That you should be the second Lover.  
Nice Honesty you must corrupt,  
But not with open Bribe obrupt,  
But clean conveyance into Fist  
A hundred Guinneys is the least;  
" For Money, as our Elders say,  
" Is Matrimonies Captain Key,  
" That maugre all the Bars beside,  
" Opens the Padlock of the Bride:  
What mighty Actions Gold has done,  
Or what, but Heaven, has it not won?  
The Hero's Sword, the Lawyer's Art,  
The Poet's Brains, the Lady's Heart,  
Made Reverend judges speak with awe,  
And a bad Title good in Law;  
Wrested even Nature by main force,  
Like Streams to run a backward Course;  
Made Zealous Saints of hare-brained Lechers,  
And Sons of Aretine turn Preachers,  
And will as soon seduce these trusties,  
As ever Turky-Pie did justice..  
Therefore with speed yourself apply,  
These are the marks to know them by:  
The first, by his purple-coloured Train,  
His Footmen, Horse, and Copper Chain:  
The tother, by his quadrant Face,  
And three starved Bullies at his A—  
Quoth Hudibras, ' The Devil will have thee,  
‛ Nor can the Church's Interest save thee;  
‛ For these malicious wicked Rants,  
‛ And slanderous Libelling the Saints:  
‛ Like poisonous Snakes in fragrant Bowers,  
‛ Thou sheddest thy Venom on those Flowers,  
‛ That often a kind Umbrage made,  
‛ Cooled and refreshed thee with their shade.  
‛ Have not Stalliano, and the Doctor,  
‛ Saved th' Town from Villains, would have smoked her;  
‛ Plundered and massacered the City,  
‛ Slain Wives and Matrons without pity,  
‛ Plagued us with many a wanton freak,  
‛ And put our Virgins to the squeak,  
‛ Rifled their Treasures several ways,  
‛ Well stored with Nature's Picklock Keys?  
‛ And can we be such base Detractors,  
to vilify our Benefactors,  
‛ And term them Profligate and Lewd,  
‛ Have done the Nation so much good?  
‛ What though Stalliano, for the health  
‛ Of England, broached a Commonwealth.  
‛ What though he fought against the King,  
‛ 'Twas with design to bring him in.  
‛ He with a prosperous Defeat  
‛ Routed his Troops, to make him Great,  
‛ And made rebellious Crowds reveal  
‛ His Indefatigable Zeal.  
‛ And what if Learned Doctoro has,  
to nervate and support the Cause,  
‛ Raised doubts and fears, swore true or false,  
‛ Just as the Brotherhood prevails.  
" What if he once was Evidence  
" For th' King, and for the Prisoner since,  
‛ And railed at these whom Conscience tried,  
‛ Because they were not of his side.  
‛ All must, (that know how he's endowed)  
‛ Believe 'twas for the Nations good:  
‛ For as a wise expert Physician,  
To festering wound makes deep incision,  
‛ And by that dangerous way does heal  
HE wound, which else would ne'er be well;  
‛ So he that knew the Constitution  
‛ Of the City, and its grand pollution,  
‛ No better Medicine could devise  
‛ Than wholesome Perjury and Lies.   

‛ In Arguments there are no Rules,  
Quoth Ralph, ' with Madmen or with Fools;  
‛ For one confounds with want of Sense,  
‛ And t' other with Impertinence;  
‛ And though your honoured knightly spurs  
‛ From downright folly you prefers,  
‛ Yet all that hear what you have said,  
‛ By G— must think you drunk or mad:  
‛ For would a Man that's well in's wits,  
‛ And is not Lunatic by fits,  
‛ Argue for Villains, Fiends of Hell,  
‛ (For all are such that would rebel)  
‛ And yet run down the Royal Party,  
‛ Though true and firm as Magna Charta:  
‛ Besides, I fain would understand,  
‛ What's this to th' business now in hand?  
‛ Will your applauding Bully-rock,  
‛ ere get the Widow by the Smock?  
‛ Will searching what the Nation suffers,  
‛ Procure you e'er to search her Coffers!  
‛ Can you by giving them their due,  
‛ Engage them both to Pimp for you?  
‛ Or will your lies, though enough to scare one,  
‛ Make her come under Covert-barron?  
‛ If so, your sense I will obey;  
‛ If not, then mine's the better way;  
‛ And must, when all your Topiques fail,  
‛ In spite of Arguments prevail:  
HE friendly bribe, Sir, still affords  
‛ Much greater influence than words,  
‛ Tho Rhetoric speaks with ne'er such skill,  
‛ Money's the smother Language still;  
‛ And at the last must act your Part out,  
‛ Flatter and Cog and lie your heart out.  
‛ When Poems are to Patron sent,  
‛ Who sends back only Compliment,  
‛ Does not the Author grudge his Wit,  
‛ And wish his Lordship were besh—  
‛ Or does a Lawyer e'er agree  
‛ For an Applause t' excuse his Fee?  
‛ Desert pecuniary hope  
‛ For a fine figure or a Trope,  
‛ And that he's well contented, answer ye,  
‛ For a long tedious Bill in Chancery?  
‛ You'd find his liking more expressed  
‛ Clap but ten pieces in his Fist;  
‛ And that your gold hath greater force  
‛ Than all your flourishing discourse.   

‛ Once more then, lest success be wanting,  
‛ Let me advise you leave your Canting,  
‛ And now occasion shows you her top,  
‛ Advance, and take her by the foretop.  
‛ The Motto of the Duke D' Alva  
‛ In war, was Post Occasio Calva;  
‛ Inferring, that no good could come on't,  
‛ If he once lost the happy moment:  
‛ And the same Crisis still is known,  
to rule o'er Love as o'er Renown.  
‛ Rouse then, Sir Knight, and take advice,  
‛ And without more demurs be wise;  
‛ Or else I swear by yonder pole,  
‛ Nay by my father's Rural soul,  
‛ Henceforth to take a rougher course,  
‛ And, what you would demur, to force.  
‛ Despair and prove the Village Scoff,  
‛ And hang or draw, all's one to Ralph.   

When Hudibras this threatening heard,  
And saw the Squires gloomy beard  
Wet with the Argumental froth,  
That decked the outside of his mouth,  
His ferret Eyes look red with passion,  
To hear his groundless disputation,  
He thought it was no prudent Trick,  
To touch his fury to the quick;  
But cool and settle all things right,  
As Bullies do to those will fight:  
Besides, he oft had heard a rumour,  
Of Ralpho's blunt and sturdy humour,  
And knowing 'twas ill time to jest  
With tough Battoon and tougher Fist,  
He wisely now agrees to do  
What e'er the Squire should prompt him to;  
Not that he valued his haranging,  
But through a prudent fear of banging;  
For Ralpho, though not used to vapour,  
Yet now resolved to make it appear,  
That Cowards, when their bloods are up,  
Are stout, as Captains of a Troop.   

There dwelled a Wight near end of Town,  
That far and near atcheiv'd Renown  
For strange mysterious Art in Stitches,  
And framing Heroes Coats and Breeches:  
He, with hair tucked behind his Ears,  
Made Ermine Robes for Noble Peers;  
And out of Woollen Manufacture  
Could make a Clown look like a Hector;  
By Garb, make fools thought men of sense,  
Like Parrots Gay, or german Prince,  
And win unthinking Lady's hearts,  
Charmed by his fine External Parts;  
From Gaudy scraps of Weaver's Loom  
Make Worth and great Perfection come;  
Whose influence has oft prevailed  
O'er women's hearts, when Wit has failed;  
Wielding a Weapon one Inch long,  
And tuning scraps of Ancient Song,  
He wonderfully could provide  
To adorn a Bridegroom or a Bride:  
From tattered Gull, raise doughty Squire,  
Whom those that scorned before, admire;  
And of a course ungaindly flattern,  
Create a most acccomplisht Matron:  
A man of mighty Faith and Trust,  
To Honour and to Interest Just;  
And (as it often has appeared)  
In Court and City loved and feared;  
Loved, when the promises were made;  
But feared, when debts came to be paid:  
valiant as Hawkwood when he lived,  
And some say from his Race derived;  
And though his Ancestors of yore,  
Were famous for the drubbs they bore  
In bloody wars, both back and side,  
By which there courages were tried,  
Yet all must on his side Confess,  
None had more battered been in peace;  
Witness fore finger daily pricked  
By Engine small, and backside kicked  
By Bullys flustred with ill Wine,  
That neither Conscience had, nor Coin;  
Yet none his Wit could cavil at,  
Nor baffle his contriving pate:  
Arithmetic, his chief delight,  
Taught him both how t' account and write,  
And none like him had e'er the skill  
To etch and lengthen out a Bill,  
By sly misplacing Ciphers round  
He'd make ten Shillings be ten Pound,  
Dashes for figures pass, and blotts  
For Nine pence, Sixpences and groats:  
He'd often write one thing on th' Top,  
And the same at bottom to fill up,  
One line for thread and silk was read,  
Another strait for silk and thread,  
Nor could the careless debtor see  
The Mystical Tautology.   

To this rare Man, Botchero height,  
Ralpho was sent by Lovesick Knight,  
To ask Advice and Council sage  
About his Wooing Equipage;  
Who finds him close in little Cloister,  
In Crosslegged Mathematic posture,  
Musing upon th' unhappy fate  
Of an old Doublet, that of late  
Belonged to valiant Cavalier,  
But now the brunts of many a year,  
And Age had most unfreindly grieved,  
And rudely torn away a sleeve.   

Sir, says the Squire, I'm come to Town—  
Thankee, says t'other, Pray sit down.  
I'm come, I say, t' employ your skill  
To help my Master— That I will,  
Cries he. But (quoth the Squire) just now  
IT must be, or else you nothing do;  
Post haste, ere you can say, What's this?  
By G— quoth he e'er you can piss—  
Reach me my Shoes within there, hoa!  
Which buckled, strait away they go,  
To measure Corpse of tattered Knight,  
And dress him for the Amorous fight.   

And now seven times the Sun, that fool,  
Had put on Coat to go to School,  
As oft combed Carrot Pate, and Whinny  
Fetched from the Stable worth a Guinny:  
And seven times had the baffled light  
Fled the Queen Regent of the night,  
Who revealed with her glittering fry  
In the broad Chambers of the sky.  
In plainer terms, a week was past  
ere Hudibras for all his haste  
Could be accoutered, to pursue  
His Love, and decently to woe:  
But then, like Summer, he appeared,  
Or Rose new blown; face void of beard,  
Stockings with Garters, Shoes with Sole,  
And Christian breeches without hole:  
In brief, so much disguised, you'd swear,  
Art got the best of Nature here,  
And Reason could not conquest gain,  
But Garb and Fashion made the man.  
No sooner was the Hero dressed,  
But storming th' outside of his beast,  
To the trusties, with Lover's speed,  
And hopes of thriving well, he rid,  
And finds 'em with their factious fellows,  
Settling the Nation in an Alehouse.  
Whom, (with a solemn scrape of foot,  
And look demure,) having called out,  
With sober grace fit for th' occasion,  
He makes 'em privy to his passion,  
Tells 'em, that Love has long possessed  
The battered Castle of his breast;  
Protests, 'tis not the Widow's Riches,  
But Person, that his heart bewitches;  
And since between 'em there's such distance,  
Humbly desires their assistance.  
Sir (says Doctoro.—) But the knight,  
Knowing some dogs till muzzled bite,  
And fearing th' end of his discourse,  
Thought his best refuge was his Purse,  
And therefore to avert the Thesis,  
Guilded his Palm with fifty pieces,  
Which did so close and neatly come,  
Mouth was shut up, the Priest was dumb.  
To Stallion— too the same was given,  
To keep their Countenances even—  
And now there is no more to do,  
But when to Wed, and when to Woe;  
Each promises th' affair to settle,  
And give him right to her and Chattel,  
Inform him without trick or Cheat  
The punctual Truth of her Estate:  
For as the Tutor to an Heir,  
Can by his diligence and care  
Make him in Excellence surpass,  
Or by his negligence, an Ass;  
So your trusties and Overseers,  
The Widow's Scissors, and the Shears  
That snip her Mouldering Estate,  
And Courtail second Wooers Fate,  
As honesty does hint, can set  
The Adventurer in or out of debt,  
Help him to find a Fortnight after  
A wealthy Bride, or Catch a Tartar.   

With some such Plots their brains did beat,  
And now grown pregnant with the Cheat,  
They smile to see the Knight so addle,  
And bid the Maid, fetch t' other Bottle:  
Where we will leave 'em for a space,  
To look into the Widow's Case,  
And find, when Love and Interest vary,  
What other cause can make 'em Marry.   

Her Husband had not given up Ghost  
Above a Fortnight, at the most,  
But like true Woman, she began  
To think upon another Man,  
And knowing youth could not be kept,  
And Grain would spoil not duly reaped,  
Permits her Will and Veins to agree  
With Natural Necessity.  
The trusties too, that watched her Motions,  
Much closer than their own devotions,  
‛ Like dogs that hunt about a Crowd  
‛ The spotted Bitch that's growing proud,  
Resolved to try the happy minute,  
And since the Fort's unguarded, win it:  
Which after a short day or two,  
They found not difficult to do;  
For she first having made 'em swear  
The secret never to declare,  
Bound 'em to be a shield between  
The public scandal and the sin,  
Freely on both her favours placed,  
And both at equal turns Embraced:  
Now Stalliano, now the Doctor,  
As oft as flowing blood provoked her.  
Nor was this Act precipitate,  
But prudent and deliberate;  
She knew her Constitution well,  
With all the passions that rebel;  
Found by some motions in her Eyes,  
One single friend could not suffice;  
And that she greater Joy should know,  
By having two strings to her Bow.   

Long had this close salacious League,  
This Modish Tripartite Intrigue,  
Concealed itself from Common Eyes,  
Had not lewd Belly began to rise,  
And swell above its fellow Parts,  
Infected by venerial Arts:  
For the plump Squire had so kissed her,  
And the Cassock Merchant so Caressed her,  
That Nature from them both had drawn  
A Mass of Presbyterian Spawn.  
And between haunches, Mountain big,  
New moulded a young Moon calf Whigg;  
For which, they different hopes did gather,  
And each himself imagined father,  
Till they, by Arguing, did descry  
They both had fingers in the Pye.   

So have I known in modern Age  
A wretch to two herself Engage,  
And leave the man she first carest  
To be by a second lewdly kissed:  
For her sake, the whole sex be cursed,  
Man's torment, and of Ills the worst;  
For never a Saint had sweeter face,  
Serener Look, or Modest Grace;  
Or seemed more Innocent or Civil,  
Angel without, within a Devil;  
Yet hold— oh pardon me, ye few  
chaste Beauties, Innocent and true;  
You that your Constant flames improve,  
To bless the happy Man you love:  
For your sakes I could rage far worse,  
And to myself convert the Curse,  
Did not my sense this truth pursue,  
That ye are so very, very few,  
That Phaenix-like in distant clime,  
Scarce more than one's seen at a time.   

But to proceed— The Squire and Priest  
Being of the Widow both possess't,  
And knowing Wranglings and Feud  
Would to the Matter do no good,  
Resolved at last, with cunning spite,  
To Top her off upon the Knight,  
And make his grave Fanatic zeal  
The Balsam, wounded Fame to heal.  
No sooner had they baited hook,  
But greedily 'twas snapped and took:  
For th' Knight unwary of the Slaughter  
In Frigate made 'twixt wind and water,  
Resolved to run the Marriage Course,  
And take for better and for worse.  
This in due season being declared,  
They next most orderly prepared  
The Widow to receive his visit,  
And lend a friendly Ear to his suit;  
Who scarce had time to dress herself,  
To charm the view of amorous Elf;  
But word was brought the Knight was come,  
Unhorsed, and entering just the room:  
Surprised with news thus unexpected,  
She Prayer Book snatched, that lay neglected,  
(Whose use was not so much for Pocket,  
As to fix Candles in the Socket)  
And with it making swift retreat  
To Elbow Chair, sits down in State.   

Mean while the Knight at Parlour door  
Bows, that his Nose just touched the floor,  
And (with an Air august and grand)  
Most humby begs to kiss her hand:  
Which she permitted with a Grumble,  
That half expressed he was too humble.  
So long he in that posture stood,  
Some thought his Lips had been there glued,  
And though no water from his Eyes  
Did flow to show his hearts surprise;  
Yet some affirm, that value truth,  
There fell abundance from his Mouth,  
And Nature there did much prevail,  
Though Love the tother did exhale.  
At last, awaking from his dream,  
And clearing of his mouth from phlegm,  
First making hem, and Prologue Cough,  
Thus his Wit's Blunderbuss went off.   

‛ Madam your slave is once more come  
to sound your heart, and know his doom,  
‛ Whether amongst the blessed he's named,  
‛ Or like a Criminal condemned;  
‛ Let your fair Eyes allow the grace  
to turn their optics on my Face;  
‛ You'd have I hope no cause t' explode  
‛ My Person, Method, or my Mode:  
‛ I am not now that Hudibras  
‛ That Monarchy once strove to raze,  
‛ He that to make a Knave a Lord  
‛ Durst live a Villain on record,  
‛ Swear 'twas the Brandished Sword must heal  
‛ The state, and called Rebellion Zeal;  
‛ Nor is my Judgement now so small,  
to bow before the Idol Baal,  
‛ Or in that Brutus' applause to sing,  
‛ That's rid and managed against the King;  
‛ For as Heaven's Fountains, when they flow,  
‛ Influence the plants, and make 'em grow,  
‛ By sacred Mystery dispersed  
‛ In spouts o'er all the universe▪  
‛ So Loyalty, by your great Art,  
‛ Spread and diffused about my heart,  
‛ Makes its dilated Power reign  
‛ O'er th' barren Island of my Brain.  
‛ 'Tis only you could thus succeed,  
‛ You teach my Infant zeal to read,  
‛ And Capital Letters of large dint  
‛ Distinguish from Geneva Print:  
‛ By you I am regenerate,  
‛ Transplanted to a happy state;  
‛ And by your face, that's like the Sun,  
‛ Or Rather like the Shining Moon;  
‛ Your mouth that calms intestine Jars,  
‛ And Eyes, my most propitious Stars;  
‛ Charmed from a Whig in heart and soul  
To Tory staunch from foot to Poll,  
‛ I now dare Canting Saints rebuke,  
‛ Drink Brimmer high to K— and D—  
‛ Rail and confute their carnal Reason,  
‛ That for State Politics talk Treason.  
‛ In fine, for you I durst do more  
‛ Than ever for the Cause before;  
‛ Such wondrous feats can Beauty do,  
‛ When blest with Love and Money too.   

Quoth she, I plainly must confess  
Your altered Mien, and Sparkish dress,  
Has charmed me to a kinder fit  
Than ere your Rhetoric did yet:  
You look as if ye had something in ye,  
Much different from the quondam Ninnie,  
That sat with hampered foot in th' Stocks,  
Dispersing his insipid jokes;  
And had not Modesty possessed  
With Scruples my unerring breast,  
And told me, she that's Wedded twice  
Forfeits her Credit to the Wise,  
There's something at this time would move  
My Tongue to tell ye, that I Love;  
But Honour sways my doubtful Mind;  
Honour, the Soul of Womankind,  
That to us Widows will allow  
No Dispensation of first Vow;  
But proves, that having once known man,  
'Tis Lust not Love Weds us again.   

Quoth he, ' What you call Lust I'll prove  
to be the darling Child of Love,  
‛ And all his best Rewards does merit,  
‛ And lawful'st flames does still inherit.  
‛ Nay more, if once I go about it,  
‛ I'll prove, you can't subsist without it:  
‛ He that is warmed by Hymen's fire,  
‛ And yet no spark has of desire,  
‛ Is like one sitting at a feast  
‛ That wants ability to taste;  
‛ She vilely does abuse the Creature,  
‛ And the worst way debauches Nature,  
‛ Who still designed through Earth and Seas  
‛ All things to generate and Increase,  
‛ Which cannot be, nor never must,  
‛ Without the Aid of Generous Lust:  
‛ The Flowers and Plants desire the Sun,  
‛ Seas, Brooks, and Rivers, court the Moon,  
‛ The pert Cock-Sparrow bristles up  
THAT enjoy his Miss on houses top,  
‛ And to give proof of ardent flame,  
‛ Each minute he renews the same;  
Till time puts end to eager chase:  
‛ Those ne'er live long that live apace.  
‛ All Animals to Nature bow,  
‛ And consequently I and you;  
‛ Must mildly in that station move,  
‛ Ranked with all Creatures else that love;  
‛ For Reason leaves us in that Case  
‛ When raptured Passion storms the place,  
‛ And Brutus' and Birds that love, may be  
‛ As fortunate and blessed as we.   

‛ Lust is the Spirit of our Youth,  
‛ The Salt that seasons Nature's Broth,  
‛ In which all humane-kind have shares,  
‛ The young and those that are in years;  
‛ Nay even in Children every hour  
‛ It gives them cause to know its power;  
‛ The Boy of seven, just big enough  
to keep his Breeches pissing proof,  
‛ Cocks hat, and imitates the Men,  
to please the tiptoed Girl of Ten,  
‛ Whom rudely she away does shove,  
‛ Hoping to get a bigger Love;  
‛ And what is 't think ye that Inspires  
‛ These hopes in her, but green desires?  
‛ Lust is the chiefest cause of this,  
‛ Though yet she knows not what it is:  
‛ Therefore, since all it do pursue,  
‛ Why should it fail to reign in you;  
‛ Being as proper on your score  
‛ As Sursingle or your Bandore,  
‛ Or Peak, which like a Bill is set,  
to show the Shop is to be let?  
‛ Then let not frailty so common,  
‛ So pertinent to every Woman,  
‛ Make you believe, you reason have  
to blast the hopes of your poor slave,  
‛ That swears by the Eternal Powers  
to die, or live for ever yours.  
At this, with some few Artful sighs,  
And turning up her whites of Eyes,  
Quoth she, Your happy hour at last  
Is come, t' atone for troubles past,  
Nor can that Castle hold out long  
Where the besiegers are so strong,  
And with such judgement too assailed,  
I'm yours, your merit has prevailed;  
But on this gentle fair condition,  
That I may use my disposition,  
And that you study still to please,  
Else there will be no Love nor peace:  
This Sealed and granted on your part,  
Take here my hand, with it my heart  
And person, at your will t' enjoy,  
Have, hold, possess, and occupy.   

Who can express the vast delight  
And eager Raptures of the Knight?  
'Twas such, that the Entrancing bliss  
No tongue can e'er relate but his;  
Nor tell his Sentiments of Joy,  
Or Transports of his Ecstasy.  
In which long-wished and happy state,  
Full of the Joys of coming fate;  
we'll leave him for a while to rest,  
And dress us for the Wedding feast;  
Where how his friends and he succeed,  
In the next CANTO you shall read.   
The End of the first Canto.   

HUDIBRAS REVIVED  
The Argument of the second CANTO.  
The Character of every Guest,  
The scuffle at the Marriage feast,  
Comment's about a Loyal story,  
And hot dispute 'twixt Whigg and Tory;  
Which th' Knight just going to decide,  
Was fetched away to guard his Bride,  
By Ralph, who happened to trapan her  
With Stallion— in undecent manner.  
CANTO II.  

NO tongue can e'er express the Joys,  
Nor Pen describe the Ecstasies  
Of him that snares in Hymen's net  
Rich beauty, he despaired to get.  
Like Criminals from Death reprieved,  
'Tis with such eagerness received,  
That the abundance of the Blessing  
Abates the pleasure of Possessing,  
Till Reason by degrees does rule,  
And swelling Passions flag and cool,  
Then airy Transports all remove,  
To solid and substantial Love,  
Obliged with this long wished-for case,  
Was now Love's Minion, Hudibras;  
Who though at first charmed with surprise,  
Yet growing every hour more wise.  
No longer would let Passion cloy  
His Heart, but soberly enjoy.  
So needy Libertines, whose use  
Was to be lavish and profuse,  
Falling by chance to Wealth, grow dingy,  
Base, fordid, niggardly, and stingy:  
His Tongue no longer Grief expressed;  
His Eyes were dry, his Heart at rest;  
His Breath that dimmed with moans the Skies,  
Or coined by Passion into sighs,  
In tuneless Sonnets now was eased,  
Or cooled his Broth, or what he pleased;  
For now the Priest had shown his skill,  
And each had bowed and said (I will).  
" The sacred Words that fast enrolls  
" In th' Marriage-Book Bodies and Souls,  
And every thing in order said,  
To Licence them to go to Bed:  
But stay, the Hour's not come yet,  
The Guests must have a bit to eat,  
And now in order to't were come  
Into a spacious Dining-room,  
Where Herbs were strewed, and Cloth was laid,  
And three old blind Crowderoes played.   

But to return to Hudibras,  
He had not been from Church a space,  
So long as one his Name could write,  
But the old Maggot began to bite,  
And buzzing Whimsies warmed the Addle  
Part, of his disceptious Noddle;  
His Conscience that for Commonweal,  
Had long been Lackey to his Zeal,  
Turns Head, and smites him o'er the Face,  
For being in that Tory Dress,  
And each invited Guest swears Zounds,  
Seeing him in those Pantaloons.  
In fine, he was by all so hurried,  
And by each factious Bandog worried,  
That he resolved to prove new Man,  
And fairly now turn Cat in Pan,  
And every former Protestation  
Evade by Mental Reservation;  
" For Presbyters and Priests are th' same,  
" And merely differ in a Name,  
" Tho they of various Matters treat,  
" As one to Lie, and one to Cheat,  
" Yet nightly Friendship they pursue,  
" As Lawyers in a Tavern do;  
" Who tho one Hour they bawl and jar,  
" Another, constant Cronies are:  
Possessed with Rules which these allow,  
The Knight resolved to break his Vow,  
Urged to't by the envited Tribe,  
Whose Characters I thus describe.   

First, to the Tables highest place,  
Publicola, with humble Grace  
Approaches; he was one, whose Foes  
Had led a long time by the Nose,  
And by a Bawd they called Ambition,  
Deboached into a sad condition,  
Nor did his Fate ere make amends,  
And let him know 'em from his Friends,  
But led him on to disobedience,  
And, like them, forfeit his Allegiance,  
Who when their Cards were shuffled right,  
Soon left him, and played least in sight.  
And as I have seen Boys at play  
Glass Windows break, then run away,  
And leave one Impotent and Lame,  
To bear the beating and the blame.  
So they, when mischief was on foot,  
Withdrew, and let him stand it out.  
Famous he was for Birth and Race,  
For Courage, Person, Mien, and Face,  
For Horsemanship, and skill in Fence,  
And every thing indeed, but S—  
For Nature thinking she has done,  
With lavish Hand enough for one,  
In ordering his Person fine,  
And that she need not dress his Mind,  
Unfurnished Head on Shoulders set,  
And to his Agents shov'led Wit.  
Thus as adventurous Knights of old,  
Made Squires their Shields and Lances hold,  
With which for Fame they were to fight,  
Or to defend their Ladies Right,  
His Battle Politics were fought  
With Weapons that his Faction brought,  
And he the weighty Cause maintains,  
Argues and plots with others Brains.   

His place being filled, there next him sat  
A crippled Cobbler of the State,  
Deformed, and scarce in height a span,  
Distorted Relic of a Man;  
Yet th' Oracle of the dull Rout,  
Tho plagued with Treason, Pox, and Gout,  
" O Miracle of scandalous Age!  
" Tho all his Bones at Nature rage,  
" Cramped with Diseases and sharp Pain,  
" Yet there is health still in his Brain;  
" His chattering Tongue does still rebel,  
" Although his Body feel a Hell.   

Near him old Sodom sat, whose Fame  
Is justly suited to his Name;  
His Lewdness claims the first degree,  
And Treasons coined in Italy,  
Makes him with brainless Factions move,  
As lewd and bestial as his Love.  
Whispering with him was a squab thing,  
That always railed against the King,  
Yet gave worse Reasons for so doing,  
Than e'er choosed Cully did for wooing.  
With his imagined Wit he's wrapped,  
And like an Autumn Spider shaped.  
His busy Pate extracted Fears,  
As Whores do mercenary Tears:  
He'd swear i'th' Skies he heard a drumming,  
And that the Bugbear French were coming,  
Or if a Blazing Star were seen,  
The fault must be in King or Queen,  
Some mighty flaw in Government,  
For which their Prodigies were sent;  
But ne'er believed the Heavens foretell  
A Plague for Villains that rebel.  
To all ill News he was a Prophet,  
But if 'twere good, knew nothing of it;  
In his opinion most precise,  
And obstinate to all advice,  
" For in all his Race and Progeny  
" No Rebel e'er was found but he.   

Two City Sparks next filled the Table,  
New placed in Office by the Rabble,  
And used just like a pair of Bellows,  
To blow Sedition amongst the Zealous;  
Pimpino and Backoso named  
At Court, though not in th' City shamed,  
Scorned by the Loyal and the brave,  
Tho cherished by the factious Knave.  
The first a tall affected Prig,  
In entertaining Gown and Wig,  
With Spaniel gate, and fawning form,  
That Porpuss-like foretells a storm,  
Low Cringes and uncovered Pate,  
He hugs the Man he means to cheat;  
So proud of purple Officers,  
That he oft pulls 'em by the Ears,  
To show 'em in what Sphere they move,  
And that his Worship's placed above.  
The second was a drunken Sot,  
So scared and frighted with the Plot,  
That he durst never see the Cuts  
Without two Bottles in his Guts,  
Nor with the story on't dispense,  
Till he were fairly past his sense:  
And as the true Geneva breed,  
When any thing does ill succeed,  
Seek to avert their State Commotion,  
By formal settling to Devotion,  
His Zeal another way inclined,  
And fortified his fears with Wine,  
That what his Wit could not pursue,  
His Courage thus infused might do;  
So Asia's Conqueror inspired  
By Greekish Brimmers, Fame acquired,  
And the vast World before him shrunk,  
Nor e'er durst meet his Arms when drunk.   

Thus stored with equal Virtues, they  
Were likewise placed in equal sway,  
Like Beagles coupled in a Chain,  
To hunt the Loyal, and arraign  
All those that would not break the Laws,  
Kiss and Espouse the Good old Cause;  
Recusants were for Faction blamed,  
Dissenters cherished for the same,  
And what was Treason in the one,  
In t'other was an act well done,  
As if so base a thing would be  
In Courts of Law and Equity;  
As that more Justice should be due  
To a Dutch Swabber than a jew,  
Especially when all pretences  
Are void, and equal their Offences.  
Law is the Guardian of our Lives,  
Our Fortunes and Prerogatives,  
By which our proper Rights are known,  
And every Subject gets his own,  
Unless some hired Vermin shame us,  
And lose a Cause through Ignoramus,  
Expose their Consciences of Steel,  
To justify their lasting Zeal,  
Make ye a sly fallacious Quibble,  
Act Vi & Armis against a Bible,  
And lies in Rhetoric expressed,  
As if Men took an Oath in jest;  
Or that a Monarch's Life were far  
Less worth than th' Prisoners at the Bar.  
Men should have Souls and Consciences,  
And Loyalty to join with these,  
" Tho in a business lately known,  
" 'Tis thought the Jury there had none;  
" When from the least to the greatest thing,  
" They all had justice but the King.   

Near him was placed a snivelling Cur,  
Wrapped up in Scarlet lined with Fur,  
With guilded Lady by his side,  
Tricked and Embroidered like a Bride,  
Well known to every Knight and Lord,  
And intimate with all the Board:  
Her Husband's Riches did surmount,  
Grew and Increased on her account  
Like rolling Snowballs, for though he  
Extorted much by Usury,  
She found the surest way of gaining,  
By her obliging entertaining;  
Famous he was for Procuration,  
Demurrings, and continuation,  
Hedging Estates in, and the Title  
For nothing (or as bad) for little,  
On tender Conscience setting Tax,  
And ever softening it like Wax,  
To make it fit to bear impression,  
Of true or false upon occasion.  
His name, as I'm informed by hear-say  
From friends, was Noverint Universi,  
Renowned amongst Pauper Cavaliers,  
Bilked Widows, and young Bancrupt Heirs,  
As much admired for Poignant Wit,  
Especially at his own Treat,  
For drinking Healths in Brimmer Gills,  
To Senates and Exclusive Bills,  
Sirnaming Bishops England's Foes,  
And Drone-like singing Raree-Shows.  
Others of this rare Tribe were met,  
And at the Board in order set,  
Like Toads that in black Fogs appear,  
To suck the Poison of the Air,  
And then infuse it to the Blood,  
And Entrails of their crawling Brood;  
Whilst round about the spacious Room,  
Loud Laughs, and then confused Hum,  
And scraps of Treason made the Jest,  
From Pignies mouth with Grace expressed.  
When Hudibras appeared again,  
And ushered all the Dishes in,  
Sauces and Salads on a pile,  
All ranged in order, Rank and File,  
At Tables end the Lady fair  
Was placed, whilst all the Guests stood bare,  
Each gratulating with submission,  
The happy altering her condition,  
Who with down-look and shamefast Mien,  
Acted the Virgin of thirteen,  
And by her carriage might be guest,  
As pure a Maid as ever P—  
But Ceremonies growing old,  
And lest the Supper should be cold,  
Up to the Board Doctoro comes,  
Hanging his Hat upon his Thumbs,  
And with his quondam Tone and Face,  
Squeaked out this formal Canting Grace,   

Bless, I beseech thee, Lard, quoth he,  
This buttered Dish of Furmity;  
Ah! let the luscious Plumbs therein,  
Mind us of our more luscious Sin,  
And prove unto us sacred Meat,  
For thy Disciples loved Wheat.  
Let this Surloin have also Blessing,  
This Venison Haunch, though spoiled in dressing.  
" At that the Knight erecting head,  
" And finding it was so indeed,  
" Frowning with discontented look,  
" Stole softly out to beat his Cook,  
Whilst thus the Priest went on— And, Lard,  
When thou hast blest this plenteous Board,  
Keep us the feeders too from fall,  
And bless us in our several Callings;  
Give us, we pray thee, leave to tread  
Once more upon a Bishop's head:  
Let not the Land those Silkworms nourish,  
And then thy chosen Saints shall flourish.  
Religious Button-makers teach,  
And gifted Weavers stiffly preach;  
Schoolmen with Rhetoric decoy us,  
'Tis the most ignorant are most pious;  
All Colleges and Schools are vain,  
Breeders of Learning most profane,  
Except that University  
That graced my Virtue with Degree,  
A Nursery built to preserve us,  
And not for Doctrine but for Service.  
Greek is a Heathen Tongue professed,  
Latin the Language of the Beast,  
Nor is Philosophy found good,  
Unless to teach us to be lewd,  
To trace mysterious Secrets home,  
And search our Mother Nature's Womb:  
But we a near and shorter cut,  
A North-East passage have found out,  
To those immortal heavenly Mines,  
Where gracious Noll in Splendour shines,  
And all those holy Men appear,  
Once Sanctified at Doncaster.  
Here stopped the Priest, not having done,  
But to pump Breath up to go on,  
Till Pigmy having long o'ercome  
The hungry Demons in his Womb,  
And justly now began to fear,  
No end would be of this long Prayer,  
Tipped him a wink to cease, and then  
Put on his Hat, and cried Amen,  
And now began the Massacre,  
Whilst stillness seized each Member there;  
Even Zeal itself had Self-denial,  
The lust of Eating made him Loyal,  
Till second Course the Table crowned,  
And the Whig Healths were coming round▪  
But than, as if the passive Bottles  
Had charmed Sedition to their Noddles,  
Pigmy starts up with Zealous fury,  
And like hired Foreman of a Jury,  
Tickled with old rebellious Itch,  
Began this edifying Speech.   

‛ That Hieroglyphic Loyn of Veal  
‛ (Quoth he) is like the Commonweal,  
‛ From Body Politic so lopped,  
‛ And like the State mangled and Chopped,  
‛ Heaven even in Naturals does express  
‛ Perfect Ideas of our Case,  
‛ And by mean Symptoms makes us know  
‛ The Troubles we must undergo;  
‛ For 'tis not only Raillery,  
‛ Blasting our deeds with Infamy,  
‛ Which hare-brained Scribblers frame to cramp one,  
‛ Or seeing of our names in Lampoon,  
‛ Must e'er have power enough to vex us,  
‛ Or with their emptiness perplex us;  
‛ Nay, should we hear a fellow prate,  
‛ There goes a Rogue of Forty eight,  
‛ It must not on us make Invasions,  
‛ The Touchstone of the Saints is Patience,  
‛ And the pleasure will be ours at last,  
‛ Revenge, though slow, is surely paced;  
‛ Little disgraces still must be  
‛ Companions of our Constancy.  
‛ Halters, sharp Axes, breach of Laws,  
‛ Must aid and propagate the Cause;  
‛ But like brave Thiefs, if any dies,  
‛ 'Tis not for Trifles, but a Prize,  
‛ What Troubles did on Brutus wait,  
‛ ere he had power to change the State.  
‛ How did he let pert Coxcombs rule,  
‛ And squint and slaver like a Fool,  
‛ Abused by the Monarchal Crew,  
‛ Oft spurned and cudgeled black and blue,  
‛ And yet with patience without snobbing,  
‛ How did he bear th' unfriendly drubbing,  
‛ Till Lucrece died, (the first Coy thing  
‛ That ere did so for Ravishing)  
‛ But then, as if her wanton Fate  
‛ Gave cause enough to change the State,  
‛ He boldly threw off his disguise,  
‛ Aided the Rebels, and grew wise.  
‛ As he proceeded, so must we,  
‛ The best of Wit is Policy,  
‛ And opportunity's the main  
‛ Thing to make us our ends obtain.  
‛ What made the quondam Draymen Lords,  
‛ But time and patience, and good Swords?  
‛ Or th' Hotspur of the North expire,  
‛ But testy Wrath, and too much Fire?  
‛ Rage, as in Reason needs must appear,  
‛ Is like a gust of Wind to a Taper,  
'Tis either puffed and melted fast,  
‛ Or quite extinguished by the blast:  
‛ And so shall we, if we expose  
Our kindled Angers to our Foes.  
‛ Passion converts our solid sense  
To folly and impertinence,  
" Like Hectors that make Cullies fret,  
" And than are sure to win the Set;  
‛ Or like a Squib that flies about,  
‛ Buzzes and bounces, and goes out,  
‛ But ne'er can do half th' ill turns  
‛ Of the Fire that moderately burns.  
‛ Besides, we have Examples still,  
‛ That Caution was our chiefest skill  
‛ In late successes, a sly fleer  
‛ Carried more Cunning, than to swear;  
‛ And Yea and Nay with formal Dress,  
‛ Gave us such great advantages,  
‛ That those that did against us fight,  
‛ Almost believed we were in th' right,  
‛ Deceived by holy Politics,  
‛ And influence of Canting tricks,  
‛ Till we with Men and Arms were stored,  
‛ But then Religion was the Sword,  
‛ Each pious Pastor warmed with Bub,  
‛ Would were his Buffcoat in his Tub:  
‛ In his right hand would wield a Bible,  
‛ In th' left an edifying Libel,  
‛ Thence loudly bawling Gospel Law,  
‛ And if they not believed, would draw.  
‛ But this was when the point was gained  
HE step, which yet we han't obtained,  
‛ And therefore mildly must agree,  
‛ And grace our Plots with subtlety.   

HE Commonwealth's as hard to bring in,  
‛ As 'twas of late to get the King in,  
‛ When fatally his Cause was tried,  
‛ And tho it happened the wrong side;  
‛ Yet if we do but mind our hits,  
Our Party such advantage gets,  
‛ Such shoals of Rabble daily draws,  
to back and fortify the Cause,  
‛ We doubt not the Conscientious Men  
‛ Will one day get him out again;  
‛ For Monarchy is still professed  
HE foe to all our Interest,  
HE headlong Arbitrary sway,  
‛ That proudly makes us all obey,  
‛ When we in Justice should maintain  
‛ The Privilege of Englishmen,  
‛ Whose humours with Republics breed,  
‛ But seldom honour a crowned Head;  
‛ Pleased with the freedom of their State,  
‛ And blind Ambition to be great,  
‛ Which cannot be effected when  
‛ The Nation has a foremost Man.  
‛ The wise Plebeians feared to bring  
‛ Their Votes for Caesar to be King,  
‛ As doubting that his Power might rise,  
THAT encroach upon their Liberties,  
‛ And keep them from their honoured Due,  
‛ Who one day might be Consuls too;  
‛ And in our latter Age we found  
HE Wight aspiring to be crowned,  
‛ Who though he had gained th' utmost height  
‛ Of th' lofty Pyramid of State,  
‛ Would yet have made our stubborn Folk  
to bow to a more haughty Yoke.  
‛ Had they not boldly checked the thing,  
‛ And cried, No Bishop, nor no King,  
‛ Two Names that never yet would heal  
‛ The Wounds made in a Commonweal,  
‛ But make it rankle a worse way,  
‛ Than a neglected Slave's at Sea.  
‛ Yet tho a Monarch be the Bug,  
HE thing we hate like a mad Dog,  
‛ 'Tis fit we humour Times, and with,  
‛ Fit subtly, beware his Teeth.  
‛ In Royalty is a strange Power  
‛ That sometimes higher moves and lower,  
‛ When low the blow is to be struck,  
‛ When higher we must only look,  
‛ And its declension watch with pains,  
‛ As Pigmies do the soaring Cranes.  
Our Wit is now a wiser course  
to propagate the Cause, than force:  
‛ As Horseleeches, with eager might  
‛ Suck to the Blood, but never bite.  
‛ Petitions, and such Gentilesses,  
‛ Convenient are, but no Addresses:  
‛ Rumours of Popish Cavalcades,  
‛ Armies i'th' North, and Hatfield Maids,  
‛ Dreams, Whimsies, and the strange affrights  
‛ Of Enthusiastic Bethlemites;  
‛ All things that can the King perplex,  
‛ And with Eternal Buzzing vex,  
to urge him to strike first, and then  
‛ We have good cause to do't again;  
‛ For Causes howe'er understood  
‛ In wrong or right, will do us good:  
‛ And what can better charm a Widgeon,  
‛ Than th' old Authentic shame Religion.  
‛ What made State Carpenter rebel,  
" Religious Cause of doing well?  
" Or brought Mun's Murder to be found,  
" Religion?— No, five hundred Pound,  
Answered an old neglected Guest,  
That sat at th' lower end o'th' Feast,  
Who though by Mrs. Bride envited,  
By all the rest o'th' Board was slighted,  
His Tory Principles not being  
Squared right with theirs, but disagreeing;  
He finding that the warped Statemonger  
Would preach his Canting Treason longer,  
Resolved to cut him off, and make  
Him know, 'twas now his turn to speak.  
The Orator looked plaguy pale  
To be thus hindered in his Tale,  
But seeing tother's Resolution,  
And hoping this might breed confusion,  
Jogs the next Rascal near him seated,  
Both being in Vice and Blood related,  
Whilst Proto follows his Position,  
And thus harangues the Politician.   

Quoth he, ' I have observed some years  
‛ The Authors of the Nations fears,  
to be indefinently, two,  
‛ Videlicet, The Devil and You,  
‛ You wisely to escape his Whip,  
‛ Have entered in Copartnership  
‛ And all the Subject Rabble made  
‛ Chief Customers in your joint Trade:  
‛ He brings the Treasons to effect,  
‛ Which politicly you project.  
‛ Nature to Custom he Converts;  
‛ And old Rebellion newly starts.  
‛ Your Office is to urge the Evil,  
‛ And to infect the Crowd, the Devil;  
‛ So both of ye take equal shares,  
‛ Profit and Praise in the Affairs.  
‛ The subtle Scales that slily weighs  
‛ Heavy or light the Consciences,  
‛ Of those that with State Poison swell,  
‛ That fear the Lord, and yet Rebel.  
‛ Thus as your Bully the Protector,  
‛ The Commonwealth and Causes hector,  
‛ Tho he to kill his Prince did dare,  
‛ Yet in that instant went to Prayer;  
‛ So you pretending to do good,  
‛ The blackest Crimes and Mischiefs brood,  
‛ And all the Villainies of Hell,  
‛ Do cover with Religion's Veil,  
‛ Varnish and gild you horrid Ills,  
‛ As Pothecaries do their Pills▪  
‛ Only to hide, and keep unseen  
‛ The nauseous Poison that's within.  
‛ You, Witchlike, to perform your feats,  
‛ Can let the Devil suck your Teats,  
‛ Or practise any odd Diversion,  
‛ Shall please him best upon your Person;  
‛ For 'tis agreed, to gain their ends,  
‛ The Brethren may have League with Fiends,  
‛ Hold Correspondence with the Furies,  
‛ As well as Ignoramus Juries,  
‛ Provided that the Cause goes on,  
‛ And nothing's idly left undone.   

‛ From thirteen years to threescore odd,  
‛ You've Traitor been to King and God,  
‛ And yet have sought 'em both at times,  
‛ When Justice was pursuing Crimes;  
‛ Oft been devout for fear of Death,  
‛ Rebel and Loyal in a Breath;  
‛ But ever kept a constant way,  
‛ When any Faction bore the sway.  
‛ Like Carriers Horse you bore the Bell,  
‛ And known the beaten Path so well,  
‛ The rest o'th' Asses with their Loads  
‛ Could never fear to miss their Roads;  
‛ Nor did you ever come too late,  
to fall in at a Turn of State.  
‛ But private Pardon would allege,  
‛ (Amongst all the rest) your Privilege,  
‛ Your Crimes being of a deeper dye,  
‛ Gave you the reason to tell why,  
‛ And that secure you could not be  
‛ In the general Indemnity;  
‛ Which passing under Royal Seal,  
‛ Your Agent Devil, and your Zeal,  
‛ Made you forget the mighty Grace,  
‛ And steeled with Impudence your Face,  
‛ Bearing with Pride the Conscience Clog,  
‛ You turned to the Vomit like a Dog.  
A Dog, cries Pigmy; at which word,  
He rapt an Oath that shook the Board,  
And stared as if a Witch had dressed him▪  
Or that the Devil had possessed him:  
Quoth he, In all my cunning searches  
For th' Nation's Interest, and the Churches,  
I ne'er encountered such Offence,  
Nor bandied with such Impudence.  
As I have met with here to night,  
Affronted by abusive spite,  
For what but National Distress  
Could draw from me such Flourishes;  
Or hints of Doubts, of Fire, and Faggot,  
But Zeal— Quoth Proto, ' Yes, a Maggot,  
‛ That ere since Forty one did paddle  
‛ In the deep Quagmire of your Noddle.  
‛ What made me busy in the State?  
‛ Purblind Ambition to be Great?  
‛ But when Great, how was I subdued?  
‛ By th' Devil and Ingratitude?  
‛ Why did I make a Speech to th' Peers?  
to set the People by the Ears?  
‛ But had it then no tang of Arts?  
‛ Perhaps 'twas then to show your Parts,  
‛ How gravely proper to advise,  
‛ And how Rhetorically wise.  
‛ What made me amongst Roundheads Muster  
‛ Against the King— ' His luck at Worcester?  
‛ But was I not by Conscience driven  
to do it, think you? ' No, by Heaven.  
‛ What could inspire me to such Evil,  
‛ Against so Divine a Prince, the Devil?  
‛ He still, had we then no Abettors?  
" Yes, Cromwell, Bradshaw, and Hugh Peter.  
At this, a (Zeal-expressing) Mug,  
Thrown by an Independent Pug,  
Flew with such swiftness o'er his Pate,  
That it struck two Yards off, his Hat;  
But Scull was saved by dopping Noddle,  
And lifting up a Tory Bottle,  
He flung it at th' Aggressor's Face,  
But missed, and struck a Brimming Glass;  
Which grave Doctoro had begun  
HE Health to th' Lads of Forty one.  
The Priest, half drowned in Burgundy,  
At Proto's Head a Tart let fly,  
Which meeting with a flying Cheese,  
Dashed all the Cream on Pigmy's Phiz—  
Who starting back, and glowing hot  
With Rage, to be thus Custard shot,  
On Mutton shoulder lays his Fist,  
And vows Revenge on this new Guest,  
Who now with throwing the Meat about,  
Had scuffled all the Candles out:  
Yet could not darkness, not the hurry,  
Alloy our Politicians fury,  
Who brandishing Fore-leg of Sheep,  
On Proto's Head laid such a heap  
Of blows, that had he not retreated,  
He totally had been defeated;  
Nor did he cease, but still pursued  
His Conquest, steeped in Grease and Blood;  
Not he, whom Divine History tells.  
With Jawbone did such Miracles,  
ere swifter could his Foes divide,  
Or drive 'em faster from his side,  
Then did our Hero with his Truncheon,  
Or Weapon good of roasted Luncheon,  
Till fickle undiscerning Fate,  
That makes the Brave least Fortunate;  
His Victory did countermand,  
By slipping from his eager hand  
The mangled Shoulder, which was catcht  
By Proto, who th'advantage watched;  
And now returns with doubled Rage,  
And th' wearied Conqueror engaged  
So fierce with thumps about the Scull,  
That tumbling backwards o'er a Stool,  
The stunnied Statesman with the blow  
Was left at the mercy of his Foe;  
But Pallas, whom the Schools relate  
The Darling Offspring of Jove's Pate,  
And therefore in Distresses deigns  
To take great care of Mortal Brains,  
Fearing the fall might make Contusion,  
Under his Head conveyed a Cushion.  
Mean while, Pimpino and Backoso  
Doubting their luck would be but So-So,  
And that it would disgrace them all,  
Tamely to see their Captain fall;  
To Pigmy's aid advanced, to pull  
His Corpse from Barricado Stool:  
But in th' attempt by friend of Proto's,  
That of the Brawl had timely notice,  
Received some blows and hardy thwacks,  
Furiously laid on Sides and Backs;  
Yet being strong, and such as knew  
How much a Cudgelling came too,  
In spite of drubbing and battooning,  
Rescued their Friend, that just was swooning,  
For fear some awkered stroke should reach  
His Noddle, as he sat on's Breech;  
But now the Genius that still is chief  
Defender of Mankind from mischief,  
Unwilling the Fight amidst good Cheer  
Should grow into a Massacre,  
Sent Hudibras with Lights to stop  
Their Rage, and take the Matter up;  
He peering round from hollow Eyes,  
And the havoc saw of Meat and Wine,  
The Custard wrack, with which the Asses  
Had now bedaubed their Clothes and Faces;  
And finding all his hopes were lost,  
To save th' remainder of his Cost,  
That what should serve the Folks at home,  
Was rudely thrown about the Room;  
Disturbed too at their lavish Crimes,  
He on a Sideboard Table climbs,  
As well to make mimself heard better,  
As to amend his Dwarf-like Stature,  
And propped on the Domestic Fortress,  
Thus powerfully beats up their Quarters.  
‛ The Sons of Rancour and Sedition,  
‛ Ye Rats that gnaw, yet spoil Provision,  
‛ Whose low, absurd, and brainless Strifes,  
‛ Ruin the Cause, yourselves, and wives;  
‛ You, whose Enthusiastic Itches  
‛ Fondly your knowing Sense bewitches,  
‛ What lavish Daemon could inspire  
‛ Your Souls with such unhallowed Fire,  
to be thus heathenishly lewd,  
‛ And make such wrack of Christian Food?  
‛ Swagbellyed Danes, 'tis true, in Drink  
‛ Brawl much, because they seldom think.  
‛ The taper Spaniard sopped in Wine,  
‛ By tilting makes his Honour shine.  
‛ The Frenchman, of amphibious Mould,  
‛ Soon fiery hot, and freezing cold,  
‛ At play, or o'er a Bottle draws,  
‛ Cocks Hat, and justifies his Cause.  
‛ The drowsy Dutch, with boggy Breech,  
‛ And Nature barbarous as his speech,  
‛ About his Nation's Gallantry,  
‛ Draws knife to stab at Snick-or-Snee;  
‛ But none but th' English have the heat,  
‛ Like Dogs, to quarrel at their Meat,  
‛ And for their fierce offensive Weapons,  
‛ Make use of Mutton Legs, and Capons,  
‛ Make fiercest Instruments of Rage  
to be Plumb-Pudding and Pottage;  
‛ And Pease just taken from the Pot,  
to serve instead of Pistol Shot.  
‛ Shall we for Trifles disagree,  
‛ Religion, and Shame Loyalty,  
‛ When all we have on't we can put  
‛ With wond'drous ease into a Nut?  
‛ The Nation's Interest, and our own,  
‛ Are Themes our Brains must work upon;  
‛ When Monarchy goes down again,  
‛ Then let us fight, but not till then;  
‛ Nor wilfully abuse the Creature,  
‛ That feeds our Life, and props our Nature,  
‛ And makes us hardy, strong, and able,  
to lead our Forces on— the Rabble.  
‛ Why, what a shame is this to Sense?  
‛ What great distrust of Providence?  
‛ That one weak Stickler for a Crown,  
‛ Should make our Frailty thus be shown,  
‛ And with his witless Chat should break  
‛ Th' united Body Politic;  
‛ Th' Epitome of the wise City,  
‛ Culled out and met in this Committee.   

Then gravely looking round, and frowning  
On battered Pigmy that sat groaning,  
(Who sick with being tossed and jogged,  
Had all his Supper disembogued)  
Coughing with grace, the Statesman's pang  
Always before he makes Harangue,  
The Knight went on— ' And you that late  
‛ Were styled Right Reverend of the State,  
‛ For Politic sharp-pointed Reason,  
‛ Bitter, yet no Law-breaking Treason;  
‛ You that gave us Advice just now,  
‛ What for the Cause we were to do,  
‛ Proved, that all Feuds, till we were strong  
to go through stitch, would do us wrong;  
‛ Like Arrows upright shot in Meads,  
‛ The harm would fall on our own heads;  
‛ That you, I say, should so forget  
‛ Your Sense, and lessen so your Wit,  
‛ Your honoured and dear-purchased Glory,  
‛ Poorly it encounter with one Tory;  
‛ Threaten to kill, and cut, and slash,  
‛ With what were fitter for a hash,  
‛ And proudly swear to break his Head  
‛ With Puddings, upon which you feed.  
‛ Have you, I say, in manner ample,  
‛ By way of specious grave Example,  
‛ Looked wise, and taught hotheaded Fools  
‛ Democracy's Authentic Rules;  
‛ In all Orations and Complaints,  
‛ Extolled the Patience of the Saints,  
‛ And th' silent way of Governing,  
‛ When they had hooted out the King,  
‛ And yet be first to break the Laws,  
‛ Your self has made with such Applause;  
‛ Like Country Vicar, preaching down  
‛ The Sin of Drunkenness in his Town;  
‛ Yet at a Wedding, or a Fair,  
‛ Is sooner sopped than any there  
‛ In Double Beer acts many a frisk,  
‛ Tho he each Sabbath bangs his Desk,  
‛ In laying the Enormance home,  
‛ And preaching Torments are to come;  
‛ I own the fierceness of our Zeal,  
‛ When it concerns a Commonweal,  
‛ Ferments to such insubid hate,  
‛ As Reason never can abate;  
‛ But then 'tis when we are overthrown,  
‛ And in our Arguments run down:  
‛ Not when the business is supplied  
‛ With ten to one the strongest side;  
‛ Obstreperous noise ('tis true) does much,  
‛ When we have a crabbed Point to touch;  
‛ With hums and has we carried on  
‛ This Canting Trade in Forty one;  
‛ Noise brought the Sisters to our Church,  
‛ Crammed Conventicles to the Porch;  
‛ Turned up their Whites and made 'em groan,  
‛ Not feeling th' matter, but the tone;  
‛ The tuneful Tale such influence wears,  
‛ It made 'em play at Bowls with Tears,  
‛ But never raised the Passions equal  
‛ In Temples Orthodox and Legal;  
‛ Their Senses all were in confusion,  
to see dear Deacon thrash his Cushion,  
‛ Believed Salvation sprung from thence,  
‛ And that they need not mind the Sense.  
‛ When Zeal by noise is understood,  
‛ The subject Matter must be good,  
‛ And Nonsense as Soulsaving be,  
‛ As the Body of Divinity.  
‛ The Saints have often need of shifts,  
‛ Each Brother has peculiar Gifts;  
‛ And tho discerning Providence  
‛ Bestows not on us equal sense.  
‛ Some other way amends is made▪  
‛ We thrive as well as if we had;  
‛ With Sighs and Groans like Ananias,  
‛ We stretch the Purses of the Pious;  
With Eyes erect, and humble Mien,  
‛ Draw the Religious Sisters in;  
‛ Nay, even Diseases, Sores, and Pains,  
‛ The Curse of others, proves our Gains;  
‛ Gouts, Agues, Fevers, nay the Crincum  
‛ Often contributes to our Income.  
HE certain Elder had a knack  
to counterfeit a Wolf in's Neck,  
‛ Which was indeed an Issue made,  
to draw the Maggots from in's Head;  
‛ Yet from the Reverend of the City,  
‛ Procured strange Sentiments of Pity,  
‛ And wrapped in Tippet Handketcher,  
‛ Brought in Five hundred Pounds a year.  
‛ Another by promoting Strife  
‛ Procured a Pension for his Life,  
‛ Made Lies, and Stratagems, and Oaths,  
‛ Bring him in Money, Food, and clothes;  
‛ But no one ere a sauce could earn,  
‛ Unless on National Concern;  
HE private Feud breeds private Mischief,  
‛ And of our ill Successes is chief,  
‛ Makes us and Reputations weak,  
‛ And t'other side th' advantage take:  
‛ Besides, to perfect these Intrigues,  
‛ With Loins of Veal, and Mutton Legs,  
to think to proclaim War, and Chastise  
‛ With Rumps of Beef, and Venison Pasties,  
Is the most low and brainless trick  
That e'er was counted Politic.   

to plant a Commonwealth's a matter  
‛ Of an occult and mystic Nature;  
‛ 'Tis introduced with Care and Pain,  
‛ And solid Judgement of the Brain:  
‛ For 'tis no slight or easy thing  
to fight by Law against the King,  
‛ Make Magna Charta and Decree  
‛ Storm Regal Power and Loyalty,  
‛ And slur and shame a Quo Warranto,  
‛ As the Brethren do a Loyal Canto.  
‛ We must have Circumstance and Reason,  
to varnish and adorn our Treason;  
‛ Swear that Monarchal Dignity  
‛ Brings Arbitrary Tyranny,  
‛ That a free State is still the best,  
‛ And fittest for our Interest;  
‛ And still the Law must back and further  
Our Projects, though it come to Murder.  
‛ Law is the States familiar Imp,  
‛ The thriving Politician's Pimp,  
‛ That cherished by all conquering fee,  
‛ Suits with each Business and Degree,  
‛ Like Spiders Web can hold the Fly,  
‛ But let the guilded Gnat go by;  
‛ Make Littleton and Cook to say,  
‛ Falsehoods or Truths just as we pay,  
‛ And pass unparallelled Offences  
‛ By Legal Quirks, and sly Pretences;  
‛ 'Twas show of Justice that subdued  
‛ In our late times the Multitude.  
‛ How had the Cause missed Swords to fight,  
‛ Had they not thought they were in th' right?  
‛ How had the Zealous Party scorned it,  
‛ If forms of Law had not adorned it,  
‛ And made even Murders, Plunders, Rapes,  
‛ Appear but natural mishaps,  
‛ The Curses of Intestine Jars,  
‛ And strange misfortune of the Wars?  
‛ Therefore no thwarting Joke in prattle  
‛ Should make the Brethren enter Battle,  
‛ Unless some weightier Cause they know,  
‛ Or have at least effectual show,  
‛ For seeming Justice is as good  
‛ As Right, when 'tis not understood,  
‛ As a Copper Shilling, if 'twill pass  
‛ For Plate, 's as good as if it was.   

The Knight had still gone on, but Ralph,  
In a most fierce and pelting Chaff,  
Enters the Room as pale as Death,  
Gogling his Eyes, and out of Breath,  
And running up, swollen and inflated,  
Where Hudibras stood Elevated;  
With savage and distracted look,  
Rowzing his senses, thus he spoke.   

‛ What cursed Case is now debating,  
‛ Sir Knight, that you should stand here prating,  
‛ When in next Room a Rampant shaver,  
‛ Odswoons! is ploughing with your Heifer,  
‛ And with licentious hands does touse  
‛ The Bridal Vesture of your Spouse?  
‛ Whilst you are teaching Points of State here,  
‛ He's teaching her the Points of Nature,  
‛ In symphatizing Ecstasies,  
‛ Of Lips, and Arms, and Legs, and Thighs,  
‛ With glowing Cheeks, and equal Flames,  
‛ They eagerly indulge their Shames;  
‛ No spark of Modesty allow  
To Husband, or the Marriage Vow,  
‛ But wantonly pursue the Course,  
‛ Like bellowing Bull, or Boar, or Horse.  
‛ Oh Curse of Marriage, and the Suit on't,  
‛ If this must ever be the Fruit on't!  
‛ And doubly cursed be fond Amours,  
‛ That weds us still to Bawds and Whores;  
‛ When we expect a Virgin Rose,  
‛ Narrow as Paradise, and close,  
‛ Too late, alas! we find and fear  
‛ Some Insect has been sucking there;  
‛ Find the Alliance was Compact,  
‛ And that the Pipkin has been cracked.  
‛ Who could have thought, you having won her  
‛ With peerless Worth, and Deeds of Honour,  
‛ That she could e'er forget your Court,  
‛ And to another yield the Fort?  
‛ Kiss you— yet let another come  
‛ With lewd intent so near her Bum?  
‛ Back Gammon play, like Harridan,  
‛ And let a Whig enter his Man;  
‛ When (pardon Sir) like wedded Sot,  
‛ You left her ne'er a lawful Blot,  
‛ But carefully resolved to wrack,  
‛ Inervate Limbs, and aching Back,  
to satisfy luxurious Sense,  
‛ And give her due Benevolence?  
‛ But Widows of deboacht Intrigue,  
‛ Are just like Cackling Hens with Egg,  
‛ When once the itching Passion's known,  
‛ Are trod by every Cock in Town;  
‛ And so will yours, not timely stopped,  
‛ And if not Padlockt, Sir, or Coop't:  
‛ For of all Sights e'er seen, the oddest  
‛ Now met my Eyes, and most immodest;  
‛ Lips joined, bare Legs, things far from blameless  
‛ And something else— that shall be nameless.   

The Knight at this, gave Breast a thump,  
And hanging Head in dolesul dump,  
The Genius of his honoured Race,  
Painted with sanguine Blush his Face,  
And shame soon made him know the harms,  
Were done his Knighthood and his Arms:  
Thoughts crowding now his Breast on heaps,  
He nimbly from the Table leaps,  
To follow Ralph in wild distraction,  
And make his Foe give satisfaction;  
But passing in great haste along,  
Rushed on Doctoro in the throng,  
And threw a Jar of Urine down  
Upon his Sacerdotal Gown:  
The Priest, although to rage not wont,  
Yet finding Cassock thus affronted,  
Made Oath on the Evangelist,  
To right his Injuries by Fist;  
Where we will leave him, cleansing Crape,  
And murmuring at the strange mishap;  
And Hudibr as, with eager hurry,  
Following the Dictates of his fury;  
To speak of th'Widow and her Love,  
Now closely met in dark Alcove.   

Stalliano, when the Politician  
Was opening first the State's Condition,  
Knowing his Speech, though false or true,  
Would hold 'em tack an hour or two,  
Resolved to let 'em mind their Histories,  
And tip the wink upon his Mistress  
To quit the Room, and prove her Passion,  
Whilst he was making his Oration;  
This granted, strait away they shufflle,  
Just when new Guest began the scuffle,  
And through an Antichamber creeping,  
Where drowsy Ralpho had been sleeping,  
He followed them to inner Room,  
And saw his Master's Cuckoldom,  
Through Keyhole saw the amorous Chases,  
And interchangable Embraces,  
And much enraged at uncouth sight,  
Ran speedily 't inform the Knight,  
And brought him just i'th' nick, to see  
His unavoided Destiny:  
But Hudibr as, whose mind was bend  
On his old Method, Argument,  
And seldom any Truths believed,  
Through needless fears of being deceived,  
New Whimsies now had Brains o'ertaken,  
That the bold Squire might be mistaken,  
And, through the Cranny, a false Light  
Might casually delude his sight;  
Which to pursue he rallies Forces,  
And thus with angry Ralph discourses.   

‛ 'Tis possible my friend (quoth he)  
‛ And all the Schoolmen do agree,  
‛ That drowsy Epileptic Nature  
‛ Cannot at all times judge of Matter,  
‛ The Eyes and Understanding being  
‛ Unfit for knowledge, or for seeing;  
‛ The Sense by sleep may be corrupted,  
‛ As 'tis by Wine, when long we have supped it,  
‛ And th' Objects, which we seem to view,  
‛ May be but Fancies, and not true,  
‛ The effects of Rage, and stupid Folly,  
‛ Diseases, or of Melancholy,  
‛ Sudden Surprises, and Affrights;  
‛ As Women, walking in dark Nights,  
‛ Charmed by their fear, think every Post  
‛ Or Bush, a Devil or a Ghost;  
‛ So thou, with Rage possessed, and Spite,  
‛ (Passions which oft delude the sight)  
‛ Perhaps dost take some Chamber Blouse,  
‛ Tricked up in Manto, for my Spouse,  
‛ And Stalliane, whom thou thinkst a Such-man,  
‛ Who knows my prove but Dick the Coachman,  
‛ Gone thither to conclude a League  
‛ Of matrimonial Grand Intrigue.  
‛ The Laws of Honour are so nice,  
‛ That it behoves us to be wise,  
‛ And in our minds that Proverb keep,  
‛ That bids us look before we leap,  
‛ And take substantial satisfaction  
‛ Of th' truth, before we fall to Action:  
‛ Why what a fatal Injury  
‛ Were this, if it should prove a Lie?  
‛ If thou shouldst chance to be bewitched,  
‛ And nothing true that thou hast preached?  
‛ What great Atonement or Submission  
‛ Could make amends for my suspicion?  
‛ If we should prove thy Eyes were glued,  
‛ (As well I know thou hast been lewd)  
‛ And that through Keyhole thou couldst never  
‛ With those thy farthing Lights perceive her,  
‛ But that promoting this Extreme  
‛ Was some mad Whimsy, or a Dream,  
‛ How would the Lady put on Coy look?  
‛ And then how like a Dog should I look?  
‛ The Spartan Gallants loved so well,  
‛ They knew their Misses by the smell,  
‛ And thought it clownish and unwise  
to trust their Feeling, or their Eyes.  
‛ Thus confident in strong Belief,  
‛ Each Lover knew the several Whiff;  
‛ And tho no Judgement can suppose  
‛ That thou canst have so good a Nose,  
‛ Placed in the Sphere where thou dost move,  
‛ Not generous enough to Love,  
‛ Yet I may thus far be in th' right,  
‛ That 'tis not fit to trust thy sight,  
‛ Especially when the occasion  
‛ Concerns a Lady's Reputation;  
‛ Therefore I think it requisite  
to make an honourable Retreat,  
‛ Jest, haunted by some Cacodaemon,  
‛ This matter thou shouldst only dream on;  
‛ Which if't should happen the wrong way,  
‛ As I am apt to think it may,  
‛ By all my Joys, which she has crowned,  
‛ I would not for five hundred Pound.   

Quoth Ralph, ' When th' Devil owes a spite,  
‛ As he does now to you, Sir Knight,  
‛ He uses th' strongest influence  
to hoodwink and corrupt the Sense,  
‛ And now your Reasons are so dull,  
‛ I find he's working in your Skull,  
‛ Where he intrinsically forms  
‛ Doubts, Whimsies, and great store of Worms,  
‛ That hum, and buzz, and make a bustle,  
‛ And your discerning Judgement puzzle;  
‛ For with all Calmness I'll maintain,  
‛ Had Wisdom seized your Pericrane,  
‛ Or had I any cause to allege  
‛ Th' effects of your impartial knowledge,  
‛ You would just Sentiments pursue,  
‛ And grant my Depositions true;  
‛ For salve the matter how you will,  
‛ I fix to my Narration still;  
‛ Nor am I frantic as you take me,  
‛ Bewitched, or blind, as you would make me,  
‛ Stupidly drunk, or what is worse,  
‛ But fit to reason and discourse;  
‛ Nor have I swallowed a Fool's drug,  
‛ But know what's what, and Pig from Dog,  
‛ And can distinguish well between  
‛ Your silken Spouse, and dirty jane;  
‛ 'Twixt lousy Dick, in Canvas Frock,  
‛ And Trustee fierce, with Beaver cocked:  
‛ The firm foundation of my Wit  
‛ Is surely not so shaken yet,  
‛ But I can judge upon occasion  
‛ 'Twixt Chat and Carnal Copulation,  
‛ Distinction and the difference see  
‛ 'Twixt Lip and Hand, and Rem in Re;  
‛ And tho my sense you would have scanted,  
‛ Yet amongst the wise this must be granted.  
The stubborn jews could ne'er be brought  
To Credit what the Prophets taught,  
Or think the Hand of Heaven was on 'em  
Till the Destruction showered upon 'em;  
And though th' Allusion prove not true  
Between your Worship and a jew,  
Yet he that shall your Story tell  
Must say you are an Infidel,  
And that you still your wrongs deny  
Till they are passed all Remedy;  
Else you could ne'er be so unwise,  
To Cavil at my Ears and Eyes,  
When they their natural use possess▪  
And Justly do their Offices;  
Or strive their Credit to withdraw  
From what I plainly heard and saw,  
Beheld your new rigged Frigate manned  
As plain as now I see my hand.   

Quoth Hudibras, ' The Stoics tell us,  
‛ (And those I think were learned fellows)  
‛ That no one certain Matter knows,  
‛ But only through a grand suppose;  
‛ As thus now— if thy passive Bones  
‛ Were drubbed with plant, or bruised with stones  
‛ Or that opinionated scull  
‛ Were Bastinadoed soft as wool,  
‛ Beating you must not bluntly own,  
‛ But only must suppose it done;  
‛ Implying from less things to greater,  
‛ There is no certainty in Nature:  
‛ And this Philosophy should teach thee,  
‛ If any occult Art can reach thee,  
‛ Not to affirm what Objects show,  
‛ But to suppose it may be so.   

Quoth Ralph— ' Damn your Philosophy,  
‛ That teaches you to whore and lie;  
HE science, none should e'er have felt  
‛ But Antiquated men and Gelt,  
‛ Or lame Physicians, or night jades,  
‛ That ease of Loads, Bigbellied Maids;  
‛ And though renowned in Pedant schools,  
‛ Still makes you Atheists, Knaves and Fools;  
‛ The thoughtful constitutions sad,  
‛ And the brisk shallow Coxcombs mad;  
‛ And will, Sir, have a potent force  
‛ On you I find by your discourse;  
‛ You that would have me to suppose,  
‛ I have a foot, an eye, a nose,  
‛ Imagine that I hear or see,  
‛ But not be Positive 't can be:  
‛ As if my Judgement were so reeling,  
‛ That I could ever doubt my feeling,  
‛ And when my Bones with drubs are aching  
‛ Fancy that I may be mistaken;  
‛ Or if (as now) I chanced to see  
‛ Bare legs, or other nudity,  
‛ Sense should such oppsition find,  
‛ As to suppose that I was blind;  
'Tis Nonsense, and was ne'er believed  
‛ By such as would not be deceived,  
‛ And therefore with your Pardon, Sir,  
‛ My Reason here I must prefer,  
‛ And credit mine (although but dim) Eyes,  
‛ ' Spite of your Philosophic Whimsies:  
‛ Wise Nature kindly did produce  
‛ Each limb for its officious use,  
Our Ears to hear, or Tongues to talk,  
Our Eyes to see, our Legs to walk,  
Our Hands and Arms to toil and drudge,  
‛ And our Internal part to judge;  
‛ Made all things punctually agree,  
‛ Without defect or fallacy;  
‛ And, though we hardly can believe  
‛ Obliging friendship can deceive,  
‛ Or that the man we thought no ill in,  
‛ And trusted most, should prove a Villain;  
‛ Yet if the Trecheries made out,  
‛ I think there's little Cause to doubt  
‛ Or fear our Body's impotency's,  
‛ When vouched by th' better part our senses.  
‛ This though it wear a homely dress,  
‛ Sir, Knight, I take to be your Case:  
‛ Your Easy nature cannot bend  
To slander or accuse your Friend,  
‛ Or think your Spouse could e'er allow  
to break her Matrimonial Vow,  
‛ When you were tied in Sacred Bonds  
‛ With Interchange of hearts and hands;  
‛ But let not forms and outward show  
‛ Possess your mind and Judgement so,  
to think that friendship now in fashion  
‛ Will balk at Carnal Copulation,  
‛ When 'tis believed the least of Crimes  
‛ And the mode and fashion of the Times;  
‛ For, Sir, although your friend professes  
‛ Much love to you, his best addresses  
‛ Are to your Wife, whom he'll trapan,  
‛ And Cuckold you when e'er he can;  
‛ For Wives like Golden Medals are,  
‛ Proper for every one to wear,  
‛ And tho by several used, this blessing  
‛ The husband has, to find nought missing;  
‛ The property is always right,  
‛ Although 'tis worn both day and night;  
‛ Then if you can conceit yours chaste,  
‛ And only by yourself embraced,  
‛ As the old Proverb aptly shows,  
‛ What the Eye ne'er sees, the heart ne'er rues,  
‛ Your happiness is firm and clear,  
‛ And you're as blessed as if she were.   

‛ ay lately knew a zealous Brother  
‛ Was Married to just such another,  
‛ And to flat Cuckoldom submitted  
‛ From one that her Complexion fitted,  
to make her humble and outwit her,  
‛ And on each small offence to twit her  
‛ With the lewd Crime and wanton freak,  
‛ Reproachful and Lascivious trick:  
‛ And, Sir, if this be your intent,  
‛ I've shown you here a Precedent;  
‛ Of solid and effectual Nature,  
‛ And very proper to the matter;  
‛ Besides to Curb wild Female Passions  
'Tis proper upon most occasions:  
‛ Insulting Virtue oft endues  
‛ womans with Pride, and makes▪ 'em Shrews;  
‛ Gives Theme and Scope for noise and clamours,  
‛ Neglect of Duty, or in Amours;  
‛ When Vice detected, humble proves,  
‛ And all that haughtiness removes,  
‛ Which the Cleft-sex still make the most of,  
‛ When they have any thing to boast of;  
‛ But for your Backside Friend, I know,  
‛ Your Valour best knows what to do,  
‛ With one that thus your honour Treats,  
‛ soils and contaminates the Sheets  
‛ Designed for honourable Joys,  
‛ The Marriage Bliss, in Girls and Boys,  
‛ Chewed Pistol Shot and Poking Steel  
‛ Should be the Guerdon of such ill,  
‛ And the only way to wipe your stains out  
‛ Is without words to knock his Brains out;  
‛ Or, if you'd have the grand affairs,  
‛ Kept secret,— break his Neck down stairs,  
‛ And show by his resistless fate,  
‛ The Effects of Presbyterian-hate,  
‛ Showered on all those that blindly dare  
‛ Affront a Champion of the War▪   

Quoth Hudibras," I understood  
Along since thou didst delight in blood,  
‛ And from that old Kill-Cow thy Father  
‛ Thy Savage sentiments didst gather,  
‛ Thou wouldst the same decorum keep,  
‛ As oft kill Men as he did Sheep,  
‛ Consider Friends no more than Dogs,  
‛ But stick them as thou usest Hogs,  
‛ Did not my Judgement prudently  
‛ Oppose thy cursed Barbarity,  
‛ But as the Law does think it fit  
‛ No Butchers shall in Iury's sit  
‛ Because their hearts are cruel made,  
‛ Bloody and hardened by their Trade,  
‛ So I'm resolved no Butcher's Cur  
‛ Shall tempt my valour to a War;  
‛ Where friends engage, not enemies,  
‛ And is commenced by prejudice;  
‛ Besides, when I am once obliged,  
‛ With gratitude my heart's besieged,  
‛ The tender plant has taken root  
‛ And spreads in me from head to foot,  
‛ For Love in uncorrupted friends  
‛ Should grow like Brambles at both ends.   

Scarce had the Knight this sentence spoke,  
But Ralpho hears the door unlock,  
And sees from th' inner part o'th' room,  
With Glowing Cheeks, the Lovers come:  
At which, (and being vexed) grown bolder,  
Clapping the stupid Knight on th' shoulder,  
‛ Look up (quoth he) and eyes extend  
to view the man you so commend,  
‛ See th' Virtue too you late did Wed,  
‛ New risen like Sol from watery bed,  
‛ And blushing with such Rosy grace,  
‛ As if she had supplied his place,  
‛ Or rather had been Arguing high  
‛ On Natural Philosophy;  
‛ 'Tis true, if you'll continue kind,  
‛ You may suppose you still are blind,  
‛ That those two forms no bodies wear,  
‛ But Insubstantial Figures are;  
‛ Imagine too, that her Night-rail  
‛ Was ruffled so with telling Tale,  
‛ And though you hear 'em making Lo●e,  
‛ Suppose they still may virtuous prove,  
‛ And their discourse not vain or lewd,  
‛ But for your honour, and your good:  
‛ Philosophy strange works commences  
‛ When it can rob us of our senses,  
‛ And make our Eyes and Ears and Tongues  
‛ Subservient to our Shames and Wrongs;  
HE mighty point! and for my part  
‛ Were I to be a man of Art,  
‛ Learned and Cuckold, at your Rate,  
‛ I'd rather wear my own dull pate,  
‛ And plot how to revenge at once  
‛ My Injuries upon his Bones,  
‛ That made me wear the Horned Badge,  
‛ And Cleft my Timber with his Wedg;  
‛ Than be in Judgement so besotted,  
‛ Idly to think no mischief plotted:  
‛ But now I hope your Wit will Credit  
‛ Your own, and th' Case of all are Wedded,  
‛ Or else, by Hell! I'll hold a Guiney,  
‛ Not one, but all the Devils are in ye.   

At this, the Knight, his Optics raising,  
And seeing Friend and Spouse Embracing,  
Blew out a Sigh so violently  
'Twas like to raise a storm at Sea;  
Quoth he, This Villain Stalliano  
Deserves then to be burnt in manu,  
Whom I'll Immoderately swinge,  
And to Execute my Just revenge  
Will call him to such strict account,  
His life shall answer the Affront.  
This said, he hand on Bilbo lays,  
And drew it out with as much ease,  
As if the kind though rusty steel  
His fatal Injuries did feel;  
The Mortal point he strait prepared,  
And standing stoutly on his guard,  
As one well skilled in Martial Law,  
Kicking the Trustee, bid him draw,  
Which was obeyed as soon as don,  
For seeing now no way to run,  
The Guilty Stallion tacked about,  
Stood and resolved to fight it out;  
But knowing weapon was to short  
To match the Knights at this rude sport,  
A Fork that in the Chimney stood  
He snatched to make his party good;  
But ere 'twas reached the hardy Knight,  
Possess't with fury, grief and spite,  
With heavy hand and Boisterous thump,  
Twice bruised his Head and twice his Rump,  
With backsword hilt, and hands up heaved,  
That doubtless had his Noddle cleaved,  
Or back and sides benumbed with bruises,  
And Tanned his hide worse than a Jew's is,  
Had not the Genius of the War,  
That often has o'er Wenchers care,  
To his discretion recommended  
The harm was furiously intended;  
But now provoked beyond aswaging,  
Shrugging with the late smart and Raging,  
Upon the Enemy he Rushes,  
And with the Sea-coal Engine bushes  
So quick and fierce, as if in th' strife  
Each blow would have extinguished life:  
Not Trojan stout in bloody field,  
That wore the Oxhide for a shield,  
Not haughty Greek, with skin so tough,  
From head to heel, 'twas Poniard proof,  
ere made so desperate a fight,  
As now our Trustee and the Knight.  
Victory, with Expanded wings,  
O'er both their heads in Triumph sings,  
And had Infallibly bequeathed  
To Hudibras the Conquering wreath,  
Had not some Malcontented Daemon,  
Envying that he should ground his fame on  
Deeds so Essential to his Honour,  
Opposed his Fortune in this manner;  
By sending the Virago Bride  
To Combat on her Lover's side;  
Who boldly to his Aid did come  
Armed with an Arbitrary Broom,  
And nimbly brandishing it high  
At Hudibras a blow let fly,  
Which lighting smartly on his Pate,  
Stunned him, and laid the Hero flat:  
Which Ralpho seeing, and the wrongs  
Were done his Master, takes the Tongues  
That in the room neglected lay,  
Swearing they now for all should pay;  
And, falsifying the trusties blows,  
Steps in and snaps him by the Nose:  
Yield, Wretch, (cries he) and keep the Peace  
Or thou shalt never be released.  
Yield, quoth the Trustee, in disdain,  
Though sorely Pinched with awkward pain,  
As being with smart and shame surprised,  
To be thus rudely dunstanized,  
Snuffling the recreant word denied:  
Till Ralpho, who his strength defied,  
And knew that doing what he could  
Should never make him lose his hold,  
With turning Tongues and little wrench,  
Gave the imprisoned Nose a pinch  
So strong, th' ill Genius must command,  
For fatal weapon dropped from hand,  
And Conquered Stalliano now  
To the Squires happy chance must bow,  
Who craven then, though late so stout,  
Vowed, if he'd give him back his Snowt,  
To beg his Pardon, and agree  
To all the Rules of Victory.   

Sat then (quoth Ralph) and acquiess.  
Then looking round to see what case  
The Knight was in, observed the strife  
Grew dangerous 'twixt him and's Wife,  
And that old Iron and sturdy Broom  
To some dire Exigence would come;  
To whom advancing, Hudibras  
Cries out, Friend Ralpho keep thy place;  
By me this Conquest must be won,  
I'll tame alone this Amazon,  
Alone the power unquestioned show  
Of Husband and of Hero to.   

This said, his Sword away he threw,  
And she forsook her weapon too,  
Resolved to do herself the right  
Bravely to take no odds in th' fight.  
Then jointly they together clung,  
And wrestling on each other hung,  
Both striving to prevail with trip,  
Or force of Arms, or foot, or hip;  
But Hudibras, who every day  
Had learned this junior Schoolboys play,  
At an advantage takes across  
His Buttocks brawn the valiant Lass,  
And (as addition to his honour)  
With cunning sleight had easily thrown her,  
Had not her strange and lucky fate  
(Somewhat assisted by her weight)  
Performed an unexpected wonder,  
And made the Conquering Knight sink under.   

A Foil, a Foil, (cries Ralpho then)  
Courage, brave Sir, and to't again;  
A slips no blot to manly valour;  
Take her in th' Inturn, and you maul her.  
The Knight, ashamed at this damned luck,  
Rose, and in Arms Virago took,  
With strenuous lift he held her safe,  
And aided by a trip from Ralph,  
The Championess did so attack,  
At last he laid her on her back:  
Then lifting haughty front above her,  
Thus scornfully began to reprove her:   

‛ Thou Cormorant, Insatiate Wretch,  
‛ (Whom in due time the Devil will fetch)  
‛ Thou seest thy Stars renounce thy quarrel,  
to add fresh Verdure to my Laurel,  
‛ My name to th' Nations will be seen,  
‛ For ever shining and Serene,  
‛ Whilst thou art by the world abhorred,  
‛ For combating thy lawful Lord:  
‛ Oh thou, for whom my early years  
‛ Were spent in Groans, and Sighs, and Tears.  
‛ Whom I through blood and dangers sought,  
‛ For whom I wept, for whom I fought,  
‛ And for whose sake more than the Church  
‛ Oft left our Party in the lurch,  
‛ From Colours fled whilst they were Mauling,  
‛ Like Puss to come a Caterwauling;  
‛ And is Rank Cuckoldom the due  
‛ Of one has always been so true?  
‛ Shall Ignominy offend me here,  
‛ That never durst in War appear  
to shade my Valour, but was still  
‛ Vassal to Courage and my skill?  
‛ And thou, who from Love's plenteous store  
‛ Wert hourly feasted, to crave more;  
‛ What Pampered Abbot could supply,  
‛ Or Lustful satire satisfy?   

Quoth she, I swear by Beauty's Charms,  
By Love, and your Victorious Arms,  
My faithful thoughts have still been worn  
As innocent as Child new born,  
Nor came I here on lewd Affairs,  
But with this Saint to join in Prayers,  
That Fate should ne'er our loves untie,  
Nor blast our Matrimonial joy;  
And if no truth I've now protested,  
The Devil fetch me, as you have wished it.  
‛ Quoth he, In Books I never found yet,  
‛ What woman e'er played false and owned it;  
'Tis like self-wounding, bruise, or stabbing,  
‛ Or bringing in ourselves for robbing;  
‛ Nor can I be with Oaths deceived,  
‛ What Lovers swear is ne'er believed:  
‛ But if 'tis true what you've professed,  
‛ Consent to take the Ancient Test,  
‛ Which tries the Faith of those are wedded,  
‛ And then perhaps you may have Credit;  
‛ An English Princess was suspected  
‛ Of Crimes like yours, and being rejected  
‛ By her fierce Lord, made this defence,  
‛ Thus nobly proved her Innocence;  
‛ And to show how much she was abused,  
‛ Walked on hot Irons without her Shoes.  
HE Roman Virgin too, called Whore  
‛ By one was hired, and falsely swore,  
to prove the Certainty of the last,  
‛ And that show was divinely chaste,  
‛ The Image of Cybele draws  
‛ Up Tiber streams without a Pause;  
HE Statue that (as Authors prove)  
‛ Not twenty thousand men could move:  
‛ Virtue by Miracles is known;  
‛ And though I do believe you've none,  
‛ Yet if you walk, to stop revenge,  
‛ On red hot Irons without a sing;  
‛ Or, to confute your spreading shames,  
‛ Can draw the Monument cross the Thames,  
‛ I will believe you have been wronged,  
‛ And Ralpho here malicious tongued;  
‛ But a true Swinger, if you fail,  
‛ As Whetstone's Park ere set to sale.   

Quoth she, I never have been bred  
To do that which the Ancients did,  
Nor am so holy and devout  
To tread on fire, not scalding foot;  
Besides, Sir, you yourself must grant  
You have not made me yet a Saint,  
Nor do such Sanctity inspire  
To make me Proof against streams and fire;  
But thus far I'll th' Injunction prove,  
To let you see my faith and love,  
Propose some others that may be  
Partners, and prove the Test with me,  
As many Women, you'll allow,  
Suspected are, as I am now,  
And I'll come off, I'll lay my life,  
Better than any other Wife.   

‛ Madam, (replies the Knight) I see  
‛ Plainly your drift and fallacy,  
‛ Can well discern your female Magic  
‛ And Cunning, by your Chopping Logic;  
‛ You know't impossible to bring  
‛ Another ere to try the thing,  
‛ Unless like you her Crime appears,  
‛ Which may not chance in twenty years,  
‛ But your deceit shall now want force,  
‛ For instantly I'll get divorced,  
‛ And your fair Ladyship will draw  
to plead to Justice and the Law—  
‛ Show Woman, when the Devil has won her,  
‛ And right the wrongs done to my Honour.   

This said, the Squire, by Knight's commands,  
With her own Garter ties her hands,  
And Stalliano binds with Cord,  
Nor suffers him to speak a word,  
But calmly take what was consigned him,  
And thus to several Rooms confined 'em;  
Resolved in th' morn to make all common,  
And bid adieu to Love and Woman.   

And now the Bellman Chaunticleer  
Had notice given the day was near,  
With kind, and yet unwelcome, Art,  
Tells Lovers, 'tis high time to part;  
The sickly Moon grew pale and wan,  
To think that she must lose her Reign,  
And every Planet did prepare  
To usher in the Morning Star;  
The Drowsy Carrier packs his Horses,  
To travel on their Journal Courses;  
And the watchful Grizzled Husbandman  
Calls up his men to plough his Land;  
When Hudibras, with grief oppressed,  
Tumbling on Couch, could take no rest,  
But mourns in Tears his late Miscarriage,  
And curses Fatal Love and Marriage.   
FINIS.   

Books Printed for and sold by Joseph Hindmarsh, at the Black Bull in Cornhill, over against the Royal Exchange.  
THe History of the Civil Wars of France, Written in Italian by H. C. D' Avila, translated out of the Original. The Second Impression, whereunto is added a Table.  
Reliquiae Raleighanae; being Discourses and Sermons on several subjects. By the Reverend Dr. Walter Raleigh, Dean of Wells, and Chaplain in Ordinary to his late Majesty King Charles the First.  
Sermons upon Faith and Providence, and other Subjects. By the late Reverend William Outram, D. D. Prebend of Westminster, and Chaplain in Ordinary to his Majesty.  
Loyalty and Peace; or, two seasonable Discourses from 1 Sam. 24.5. viz. David's Heart smote him, because he cut of Saul ●s Skirts; The first of Conscience and its Smiting. The second of the prodigious impiety of Murdering King Charles the First: Intended to promote sincere Devotion and Humiliation upon each Anniversary Fast for the late King's Death.  
The good Old Way, or a Discourse offered to all true hearted Protestants concerning the Ancient Way of the Church, and the Conformity of the Church of England thereunto, as to its Government, Manner of Worship, Rites, and Customs: By Edward Pelling, Rector of St. Martin Ludgate, and Chaplain to his Grace the Duke of Somerset.  
An impartial account of the Arraignment, Trial, and Condemnation of Thomas late Earl of Strafford, and Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, before the Parliament at Westminster, Anno Dom. 1641.  
The Loyal Citizen revived▪ A Speech made by Alderman Garraway, at a Common Hall on Thursday, the 17th of january, 1642. upon occasion of a Speech delivered there the Friday before, by Mr. Pym, at the reading of his Majesty's answer to the late Petition.  
The unfortunate Heroes; or, the Adventures of ten Famous men, viz. Ovid, Lentulus, Hortensius, Herennius, Cepion, Horace, Virgil, Cornelius Galus, Crassus, Agrippa; Banished from the Court of Augustus Caesar. In ten Novels. Composed by that great Wit of France, Monsieur de Villa Dieu. Englished by a Gentleman for his diversion.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, or King James' Instructions to his Dearest Son Henry the Prince, now reprinted by his Majesty's Command.  
The Ingratitude of a Commonwealth, or the fall of Caius Martius' Coriolanus, as it is acted at the Theatre Royal: by N. Tate.  
The London Cuckolds, a Comedy as it is acted at the Duke's Theatre. By E. Rrvenscrot Gen.  
Sir Barnaby Whig, or not Wit like a Woman's, a Comedy, As it acted by their Majesty's Servants at the Theatre Royal, By T. Durfey, Gen.  
A short account or state of Mr. Sheridan's case before the late House of Commons, in a letter to T. I.  
The Progress of honesty, or a view of a Court and City, a Pindaric Poem, by T. Durfey, Gent.  
Mercurius Menippeus, the loyal Satyrest; or Hudibras in prose, written by an unknown Hand, in the time of the late Rebellion, but never till now Published.  
Satyrs upon the jesuits.  
Some new pieces never before printed, by the author of the Satyrs against jesuits.  
The Poet's complaint of his Muse, or a satire against Libels, a Poem, by Thomas Otway.  
An exact Joarnal of the siege of Tangier, from the first setting down of the Moors before it, on March the 25th. 1681. to the late Truce May the 26th following, in three Letters, written by three eye witnesses of the whole transaction.  
A discourse touching Tangier, on these Heads, 1. The service Tangier has already rendered the Crown. 2. What service it may render if improved. 3. The mischief it may do us if possessed by any other powerful Prince. 4. some general observations touching Trade.  
A-la-mode Plebotomy no good fashion: or the copy of a Letter to Dr Hungerford, by Richard Griffith of Richmond in Surrey. M. D.  
FINIS.