Classic and Contemporary Poetry
HUDIBRAS: PART 3, by SAMUEL BUTLER (1612-1680) Poet's Biography First Line: The knight and squire resolve, at once Last Line: As if they were the better women. Subject(s): Cromwell, Oliver (1599-1658); Presbyterianism | ||||||||
CANTO I. THE ARGUMENT. ------------------------------------------------- The Knight and Squire resolve, at once, The one the other to renounce. They both approach the Lady's Bower; The Squire t'inform, the Knight to woo her. She treats them with a Masquerade, By Furies and Hobgoblins made; From which the Squire conveys the Knight, And steals him from himself, by Night. ------------------------------------------------- 'Tis true, no lover has that pow'r T' enforce a desperate amour, As he that has two strings t' his bow, And burns for love and money too; For then he's brave and resolute Disdains to render in his suit, Has all his flames and raptures double, And hangs or drowns with half the trouble, While those who sillily pursue, The simple, downright way, and true Make as unlucky applications, And steer against the stream their passions. Some forge their mistresses of stars, And when the ladies prove averse, And more untoward to be won Than by CALIGULA the Moon, Cry out upon the stars, for doing Ill offices to cross their wooing; When only by themselves they're hindred, For trusting those they made her kindred; And still, the harsher and hide-bounder The damsels prove, become the fonder. For what mad lover ever dy'd To gain a soft and gentle bride? Or for a lady tender-hearted In purling streams or hemp departed? Leap'd headlong int' Elysium, Through th' windows of a dazzling room? But for some cross, ill-natur'd dame, The am'rous fly burnt in his flame. This to the Knight could be no news, With all mankind so much in use; Who therefore took the wiser course, To make the most of his amours, Resolv'd to try all sorts of ways As follows in due time and place No sooner was the bloody fight, Between the Wizard, and the Knight, With all th' appurtenances, over, But he relaps'd again t' a lover; As he was always wont to do, When h' had discomfited a foe And us'd the only antique philters, Deriv'd from old heroic tilters. But now triumphant, and victorious He held th' atchievement was too glorious For such a conqueror to meddle With petty constable or beadle, Or fly for refuge to the Hostess Of th' Inns of Court and Chancery, Justice, Who might, perhaps reduce his cause To th' ordeal trial of the laws, Where none escape, but such as branded With red-hot irons have past bare-handed; And, if they cannot read one verse I' th' Psalms, must sing it, and that's worse. He therefore judging it below him, To tempt a shame the Devil might owe him, Resolv'd to leave the Squire for bail And mainprize for him to the gaol, To answer, with his vessel, all That might disastrously befall; And thought it now the fittest juncture To give the Lady a rencounter, T' acquaint her 'with his expedition And conquest o'er the fierce Magician; Describe the manner of the fray, And show the spoils he brought away, His bloody scourging aggravate, The number of his blows, and weight All which might probably succeed, And gain belief h' had done the deed, Which he resolv'd t' enforce, and spare No pawning of his soul to swear, But, rather than produce his back To set his conscience on the rack, And in pursuance of his urging Of articles perform'd and scourging, And all things else, his part, Demand deliv'ry of her heart Her goods, and chattels, and good graces, And person up to his embraces. Thought he, the ancient errant knights Won all their ladies hearts in fights; And cut whole giants into fritters To put them into amorous twitters Whose stubborn bowels scorn'd to yield Until their gallants were half kill'd But when their bones were drub'd so sore They durst not woo one combat more The ladies hearts began to melt, Subdu'd by blows their lovers felt. So Spanish heroes, with their lances, At once wound bulls and ladies' fancies; And he acquires the noblest spouse That widows greatest herds of cows: Then what may I expect to do, Wh' have quell'd so vast a buffalo? Mean while, the Squire was on his way The Knight's late orders to obey; Who sent him for a strong detachment Of beadles, constables, and watchmen, T' attack the cunning-man fur plunder, Committed falsely on his lumber; When he, who had so lately sack'd The enemy, had done the fact; Had rifled all his pokes and fobs Of gimcracks, whims, and jiggumbobs, When he, by hook or crook, had gather'd, And for his own inventions father'd And when they should, at gaol delivery, Unriddle one another's thievery, Both might have evidence enough, To render neither halter proof. He thought it desperate to tarry And venture to be accessary But rather wisely slip his fetters, And leave them for the Knight, his betters. He call'd to mind th' unjust, foul play He wou'd have offer'd him that day To make him curry his own hide, Which no beast ever did beside, Without all possible evasion, But of the riding dispensation; And therefore much about the hour The Knight (for reasons told before) Resolv'd to leave them to the fury Of Justice, and an unpack'd Jury, The Squire concurr'd t' abandon him, And serve him in the self-same trim; T' acquaint the Lady what h' had done, And what he meant to carry on; What project 'twas he went about, When SIDROPHEL and he fell out; His firm and stedfast Resolution To swear her to an execution; To pawn his inward ears to marry her, And bribe the Devil himself to carry her; In which both dealt, as if they meant Their Party-Saints to represent Who never fail'd upon their sharing In any prosperous arms-bearing To lay themselves out to supplant Each other Cousin-German Saint. But, ere the Knight could do his part The Squire had got so much the start, H' had to the Lady done his errand, And told her all his tricks afore-hand. Just as he finish'd his report, The Knight alighted in the court; And having ty'd his beast t' a pale, And taking time for both to stale, He put his band and beard in order, The sprucer to accost and board her; And now began t' approach the door When she, wh' had spy'd him out before Convey'd th' informer out of sight, And went to entertain the Knight With whom encount'ring, after longees Of humble and submissive congees And all due ceremonies paid, He strok'd his beard, and thus he said: Madam, I do, as is my duty, Honour the shadow of your shoe-tye; And now am come to bring your ear A present you'll be glad to hear: At least I hope so: the thing's done, Or may I never see the sun; For which I humbly now demand Performance at your gentle hand And that you'd please to do your part, As I have done mine, to my smart. With that he shrugg'd his sturdy back As if he felt his shoulders ake. But she, who well enough knew what (Before he spoke) he would be at, Pretended not to apprehend The mystery of what he mean'd;. And therefore wish'd him to expound His dark expressions, less profound. Madam, quoth he, I come to prove How much I've suffer'd for your love, Which (like your votary) to win, I have not spar'd my tatter'd skin And for those meritorious lashes To claim your favour and good graces. Quoth she, I do remember once I freed you from th' inchanted sconce; And that you promis'd, for that favour, To bind your back to good behaviour And, for my sake and service, vow'd To lay upon't a heavy load, And what 'twould bear t' a scruple prove, As other Knights do oft make love Which, whether you have done or no Concerns yourself, not me, to know. But if you have, I shall confess, Y' are honester than I could guess. Quoth he, if you suspect my troth, I cannot prove it but by oath; And if you make a question on't, I'll pawn my soul that I have done't; And he that makes his soul his surety, I think, does give the best security. Quoth she, Some say, the soul's secure Against distress and forfeiture Is free from action, and exempt From execution and contempt; And to be summon'd to appear In th' other world's illegal here; And therefore few make any account Int' what incumbrances they run't For most men carry things so even Between this World, and Hell, and Heaven, Without the least offence to either They freely deal in all together; And equally abhor to quit This world for both or both for it; And when they pawn and damn their souls, They are but pris'ners on paroles. For that (quoth he) 'tis rational, Th' may be accountable in all: For when there is that intercourse Between divine and human pow'rs, That all that we determine here Commands obedience every where, When penalties may be commuted For fines or ears, and executed It follows, nothing binds so fast As souls in pawn and mortgage past For oaths are th' only tests and seals Of right and wrong, and true and false, And there's no other way to try The doubts of law and justice by. (Quoth she) What is it you would swear There's no believing till I hear For, till they're understood all tales (Like nonsense) are not true nor false. (Quoth he) When I resolv'd t' obey What you commanded th' other day And to perform my exercise, (As schools are wont) for your fair eyes, T' avoid all scruples in the case, I went to do't upon the place. But as the Castle is inchanted By SIDROPHEL the Witch and haunted By evil spirits, as you know, Who took my Squire and me for two, Before I'd hardly time to lay My weapons by, and disarray I heard a formidable noise, Loud as the Stentrophonick voice, That roar'd far off, Dispatch and strip, I'm ready with th' infernal whip, That shall divest thy ribs from skin To expiate thy ling'ring sin. Th' hast broken perfidiously thy oath, And not perform'd thy plighted troth; But spar'd thy renegado back, Where th' hadst so great a prize at stake; Which now the fates have order'd me For penance and revenge to flea, Unless thou presently make haste: Time is, time was: And there it ceas'd. With which, though startled, I confess Yet th' horror of the thing was less Than th' other dismal apprehension Of interruption or prevention; And therefore, snatching up the rod, I laid upon my back a load; Resolv'd to spare no flesh and blood, To make my word and honour good; Till tir'd, and making truce at length, For new recruits of breath and strength, I felt the blows still ply'd as fast As th' had been by lovers plac'd, In raptures of platonick lashing, And chaste contemplative bardashing; When facing hastily about, To stand upon my guard and scout, I found th' infernal Cunning-man, And th' under-witch, his CALIBAN, With scourges (like the Furies) arm'd, That on my outward quarters storm'd. In haste I snatch'd my weapon up And gave their hellish rage a stop; Call'd thrice upon your name, and fell Courageously on SIDROPHEL; Who, now transform'd himself a bear, Began to roar aloud, and tear; When I as furiously press'd on, My weapon down his throat to run; Laid hold on him; but he broke loose, And turn'd himself into a goose; Div'd under water, in a pond To hide himself from being found. In vain I sought him; but, as soon As I perceiv'd him fled and gone, Prepar'd with equal haste and rage, His Under-sorcerer t' engage. But bravely scorning to defile My sword with feeble blood and vile, I judg'd it better from a quick- Set hedge to cut a knotted stick, With which I furiously laid on Till, in a harsh and doleful tone, It roar'd, O hold for pity, Sir I am too great a sufferer, Abus'd, as you have been, b' a witch, But conjur'd into a worse caprich; Who sends me out on many a jaunt, Old houses in the night to haunt, For opportunities t' improve Designs of thievery or love; With drugs convey'd in drink or meat All teats of witches counterfeit; Kill pigs and geese with powder'd glass, And make it for enchantment pass; With cow-itch meazle like a leper, And choak with fumes of guiney pepper; Make leachers and their punks with dewtry, Commit fantastical advowtry; Bewitch Hermetick-men to run Stark staring mad with manicon; Believe mechanick Virtuosi Can raise 'em mountains in POTOSI; And, sillier than the antick fools, Take treasure for a heap of coals: Seek out for plants with signatures, To quack of universal cures: With figures ground on panes of glass Make people on their heads to pass; And mighty heaps of coin increase, Reflected from a single piece, To draw in fools, whose nat'ral itches Incline perpetually to witches; And keep me in continual fears, And danger of my neck and ears; When less delinquents have been scourg'd, And hemp on wooden anvil forg'd Which others for cravats have worn About their necks, and took a turn. I pity'd the sad punishment The wretched caitiff underwent, And left my drubbing of his bones Too great an honour for pultrones; For Knights are bound to feel no blows From paultry and unequal foes, Who, when they slash, and cut to pieces, Do all with civilest addresses: Their horses never give a blow, But when they make a leg, and bow. I therefore spar'd his flesh, and prest him About the witch with many a. question. Quoth he, For many years he drove A kind of broking-trade in love; Employ'd in all th' intrigues, and trust Of feeble, speculative lust: Procurer to th' extravagancy, And crazy ribaldry of fancy By those the Devil had forsook, As things below him to provoke. But b'ing a virtuoso, able To smatter, quack, and cant, and dabble, He held his talent most adroit For any mystical exploit; As others of his tribe had done, And rais'd their prices three to one: For one predicting pimp has th' odds Of chauldrons of plain downright bawds. But as an elf (the Devil's valet) Is not so slight a thing to get; For those that do his bus'ness best, In hell are us'd the ruggedest; Before so meriting a person Cou'd get a grant, but in reversion, He serv'd two prenticeships, and longer, I' th' myst'ry of a lady-monger. For (as some write) a witch's ghost, As soon as from the body loos'd Becomes a puney-imp itself And is another witch's elf. He, after searching far and near, At length found one in LANCASHIRE With whom he bargain'd before-hand And, after hanging, entertained; Since which h' has play'd a thousand feats, And practis'd all mechanick cheats, Transform'd himself to th' ugly shapes Of wolves and bears, baboons and apes Which he has vary'd more than witches, Or Pharaoh's wizards cou'd their switches; And all with whom h' has had to do, Turn'd to as monstrous figures too. Witness myself, whom h' has abus'd And to this beastly shape reduc'd, By feeding me on beans and pease, He crams in nasty crevices, And turns to comfits by his arts, To make me relish for disserts And one by one, with shame and fear, Lick up the candy'd provender. BesideBut as h' was running on, To tell what other feats h' had done, The Lady stopt his full career And told him now 'twas time to hear If half those things (said she) be true -- They're all, (quoth he,) I swear by you. Why then (said she,) That SIDROPHEL Has damn'd himself to th' pit of Hell; Who, mounted on a broom, the nag And hackney of a Lapland hag, In quest of you came hither post, Within an hour (I'm sure) at most; Who told me all you swear and say Quite contrary another way; Vow'd that you came to him to know If you should carry me or no; And would have hir'd him, and his imps, To be your match-makers and pimps T' engage the Devil on. your side, And steal (like PROSERPINE) your bride. But he, disdaining to embrace. So filthy a design and base, You fell to vapouring and huffing And drew upon him like a ruffin; Surpriz'd him meanly, unprepar'd, Before h' had time to mount his guard; And left him dead upon the ground, With many a bruise and desperate wound: Swore you had broke and robb'd his house, And stole his talismanique louse, And all his new-found old inventions;. With flat felonious intentions; Which he could bring out where he had And what he bought them for, and paid. His flea, his morpion, and punese, H' had gotten for his proper ease, And all perfect minutes made, By th' ablest artist of the trade; Which (he could prove it) since he lost, He has been eaten up almost; And all together might amount To many hundreds on account; For which h' had got sufficient warrant To seize the malefactors errant, Without capacity of bail, But of a cart's or horse's tail; And did not doubt to bring the wretches To serve for pendulums to watches; Which, modern virtuosos say, Incline to hanging every way. Beside, he swore, and swore 'twas true, That, e're he went in quest of you, He set a figure to discover If you were fled to RYE or DOVER; And found it clear, that, to betray Yourselves and me, you fled this way; And that he was upon pursuit, To take you somewhere hereabout. He vow' d he had intelligence Of all that past before and since; And found that, e'er you came to him,. Y' had been engaging life and limb About a case of tender conscience Where both abounded in your own sense: Till RALPHO, by his light and grace, Had clear'd all scruples in the case; And prov'd that you might swear and own Whatever's by the wicked done For which, most basely to requite The service of his gifts and light, You strove to oblige him, by main force, To scourge his ribs instead of yours; But that he stood upon his guard And all your vapouring out-dar'd; For which, between you both, the feat Has never been perform'd as yet. While thus the Lady talk'd, the Knight Turn'd th' outside of his eyes to white; (As men of inward light are wont To turn their opticks in upon 't) He wonder'd how she came to know What he had done, and meant to do; Held up his affidavit-hand As if h' had been to be arraign'd; Cast t'wards the door a look, In dread of SIDROPHEL, and spoke: Madam, if but one word be true Of all the Wizard has told you Or but one single circumstance In all th' apocryphal romance, May dreadful earthquakes swallow down This vessel, that is all your own; Or may the heavens fall, and cover These reliques of your constant lover. You have provided well, quoth she, (I thank you) for yourself and me, And shown your presbyterian wits Jump punctual with the Jesuits; A most compendious way, and civil, At once to cheat the world, the Devil, And Heaven and Hell, yourselves, and those On whom you vainly think t' impose. Why then (quoth he) may Hell surprize That trick (said she) will not pass twice: I've learn'd how far I'm to believe Your pinning oaths upon your sleeve. But there's a better way of clearing What you would prove than downright swearing: For if you have perform'd the feat, The blows are visible as yet, Enough to serve for satisfaction Of nicest scruples in the action: And if you can produce those knobs Although they're but the witch's drubs, I'll pass them all upon account, As if your natural self had done't Provided that they pass th' opinion Of able juries of old women Who, us'd to judge all matter of facts For bellies, may do so for backs, Madam, (quoth he,) your love's a million; To do is less than to be willing, As I am, were it in my power T' obey, what you command, and more: But for performing what you bid, I thank you as much as if I did. You know I ought to have a care To keep my wounds from taking air: For wounds in those that are all heart, Are dangerous in any part. I find (quoth she) my goods and chattels Are like to prove but mere drawn battels; For still the longer we contend We are but farther off the end. But granting now we should agree, What is it you expect from me? Your plighted faith (quoth he) and word You past in heaven on record Where all contracts, to have and t' hold, Are everlastingly enroll'd: And if 'tis counted treason here To raze records, 'tis much more there. Quoth she, There are no bargains driv'n Or marriages clapp'd up, in Heav'n, And that's the reason, as some guess, There is no heav'n in marriages; Two things that naturally press Too narrowly to be at ease. Their bus'ness there is only love, Which marriage is not like t' improve: Love, that's too generous to abide To be against its nature ty'd; Or where 'tis of itself inclin'd It breaks loose when it is confin'd; And like the soul, it's harbourer. Debarr'd the freedom of the air, Disdains against its will to stay, But struggles out, and flies away; And therefore never can comply To endure the matrimonial tie, That binds the female and the male, Where th' one is but the other's bail; Like Roman gaolers, when they slept Chain'd to the prisoners they kept Of which the true and faithfull'st lover Gives best security to suffer. Marriage is but a beast, some say, That carries double in foul way; And therefore 'tis not to b' admir'd, It should so suddenly be tir'd; A bargain at a venture made, Between two partners in a trade; (For what's inferr'd by t' have and t' hold But something past away, and sold?) That as it makes but one of two, Reduces all things else as low; And, at the best, is but a mart Between the one and th' other part That on the marriage-day is paid, Or hour of death, the bet is laid; And all the rest of better or worse, Both are but losers out of purse. For when upon their ungot heirs Th' entail themselves, and all that's theirs, What blinder bargain e'er was driv'n, Or wager laid at six and seven? To pass themselves away, and turn Their childrens' tenants e're they're born? Beg one another idiot To guardians, e'er they are begot; Or ever shall, perhaps, by th' one, Who's bound to vouch 'em for his own, Though got b' implicit generation And gen'ral club of all the nation; For which she's fortify'd no less Than all the island, with four seas; Exacts the tribute of her dower, in ready insolence and power; And makes him pass away to have And hold, to her, himself, her slave, More wretched than an ancient villain, Condemn'd to drudgery and tilling; While all he does upon the by She is not bound to justify, Nor at her proper cost and charge Maintain the feats he does at large. Such hideous sots were those obedient Old vassals to their ladies regent; To give the cheats the eldest hand In foul play by the laws o' th' land; For which so many a legal cuckold Has been run down in courts and truckeld: A law that most unjustly yokes All Johns of Stiles to Joans of Nokes, Without distinction of degree, Condition, age, or quality: Admits no power of revocation, Nor valuable consideration Nor writ of error, nor reverse Of Judgment past, for better or worse: Will not allow the priviledges That beggars challenge under hedges, Who, when they're griev'd, can make dead horses Their spiritual judges of divorces; While nothing else but Rem in Re Can set the proudest wretches free; A slavery beyond enduring, But that 'tis of their own procuring. As spiders never seek the fly, But leave him, of himself, t' apply So men are by themselves employ'd, To quit the freedom they enjoy'd, And run their necks into a noose They'd break 'em after, to break loose; As some whom Death would not depart, Have done the feat themselves by art; Like Indian widows, gone to bed In flaming curtains to the dead; And men as often dangled for't, And yet will never leave the sport. Nor do the ladies want excuse For all the stratagems they use To gain the advantage of the set And lurch the amorous rook and cheat For as the Pythagorean soul Runs through all beasts, and fish and fowl, And has a smack of ev'ry one, So love does, and has ever done; And therefore, though 'tis ne'er so fond, Takes strangely to the vagabond. 'Tis but an ague that's reverst, Whose hot fit takes the patient first, That after burns with cold as much As ir'n in GREENLAND does the touch; Melts in the furnace of desire Like glass, that's but the ice of fire; And when his heat of fancy's over, Becomes as hard and frail a lover. For when he's with love-powder laden, And prim'd and cock'd by Miss or Madam, The smallest sparkle of an eye Gives fire to his artillery; And off the loud oaths go; but while They're in the very act, recoil. Hence 'tis so few dare take their chance Without a sep'rate maintenance; And widows, who have try'd one lover, Trust none again, 'till th' have made over; Or if they do, before they marry, The foxes weigh the geese they carry; And e're they venture o'er a stream, Know how to size themselves and them; Whence wittiest ladies always choose To undertake the heaviest goose For now the world is grown so wary, That few of either sex dare marry, But rather trust on tick t' amours, The cross and pile for better or worse; A mode that is held honourable, As well as French, and fashionable: For when it falls out for the best, Where both are incommoded least, In soul and body two unite To make up one hermaphrodite, Still amorous, and fond, and billing, Like PHILIP and MARY on a shilling, Th' have more punctilios and capriches Between the petticoat and breeches More petulant extravagances, Than poets make 'em in romances. Though when their heroes 'spouse the dames, We hear no more charms and flames: For then their late attracts decline And turn as eager as prick'd wine; And all their catterwauling tricks, In earnest to as jealous piques; Which the ancients wisely signify'd, By th' yellow mantos of the bride: For jealousy is but a kind Of clap and grincam of the mind, The natural effects of love, As other flames and aches prove; But all the mischief is, the doubt On whose account they first broke out. For though Chineses go to bed, And lie in, in their ladies stead, And for the pains they took before, Are nurs'd and pamper'd to do more Our green men do it worse, when th' hap To fail in labour of a clap Both lay the child to one another: But who's the father, who the mother, 'Tis hard to say in multitudes Or who imported the French goods. But health and sickness b'ing all one, Which both engag'd before to own, And are not with their bodies bound To worship, only when they're sound Both give and take their equal shares Of all they suffer by false wares: A fate no lover can divert With all his caution, wit, and art. For 'tis in vain to think to guess At women by appearances, That paint and patch their imperfections Of intellectual complexions, And daub their tempers o'er with washes As artificial as their faces; Wear under vizard-masks their talents And mother-wits before their gallants, Until they're hamper'd in the noose, Too fast to dream of breaking loose; When all the flaws they strove to hide Are made unready with the bride, That with her wedding-clothes undresses Her complaisance and gentilesses, Tries all her arts to take upon her The government from th' easy owner; Until the wretch is glad to wave His lawful right, and turn her slave; Find all his having, and his holding, Reduc'd t' eternal noise and scolding; The conjugal petard, that tears Down all portcullises of ears, And make the volley of one tongue For all their leathern shields too strong When only arm'd with noise and nails, The female silk-worms ride the males Transform 'em into rams and goats, Like Sirens, with their charming notes; Sweet as a screech-owl's serenade, Or those enchanting murmurs made By th' husband mandrake and the wife Both bury'd (like themselves) alive. Quoth he, These reasons are but strains Of wanton, over-heated brains Which ralliers, in their wit, or drink, Do rather wheedle with than think Man was not man in paradise, Until he was created twice, And had his better half, his bride, Carv'd from the original, his side, T' amend his natural defects And perfect his recruited sex; Inlarge his breed at once, and lessen The pains and labour of increasing, By changing them for other cares, As by his dry'd-up paps appears. His body, that stupendous frame, Of all the world the anagram Is of two equal parts compact, In shape and symmetry exact, Of which the left and female side Is to the manly right a bride; Both join'd together with such art, That nothing else but death can part. Those heav'nly attracts of yours, your eyes, And face, that all the world surprize That dazzle all that look upon ye, And scorch all other ladies tawny, Those ravishing and charming graces Are all made up of two half faces, That in a mathematick line Like those in other heavens, join, Of which if either grew alone, T' would fright as much to look upon: And so would that sweet bud your lip, Without the other's fellowship. Our noblest senses act by pairs; Two eyes to see; to hear, two ears; Th' intelligencers of the mind, To wait upon the soul design'd, But those that serve the body alone Are single, and confin'd to one. The world is but two parts, that meet And close at th' equinoctial fit; And so are all the works of nature, Stamp'd with her signature on matter Which all her creatures, to a leaf, Or smallest blade of grass receive; All which sufficiently declare, How entirely marriage is her care, The only method that she uses In all the wonders she produces: And those that take their rules from her, Can never be deceiv'd, nor err. For what secures the civil life, But pawns of children, and a wife? That lie like hostages at stake, To pay for all men undertake; To whom it is as necessary As to be born and breathe, to marry; So universal all mankind In nothing else, is of one mind. For in what stupid age, or nation, Was marriage ever out of fashion? Unless among the Amazons, Or cloister'd friars, and vestal nuns; Or Stoicks, who to bar the freaks And loose excesses of the sex, Prepost'rously wou'd have all women Turn'd up to all the world in common. Though men would find such mortal feuds In sharing of their publick goods, 'Twould put them to more charge of lives, Than they're supply'd with now by wives; Until they graze, and wear their clothes, As beasts do, of their native growths: For simple wearing of their horns Will not suffice to serve their turns. For what can we pretend t' inherit, Unless the marriage-deed will bear it? Could claim no right, to lands or rents But for our parents' settlements; Had been but younger sons o' th' earth, Debarr'd it all, but for our birth. What honours or estates of peers, Cou'd be preserv'd but by their heirs And what security maintains Their right and title, but the banes? What crowns could be hereditary, If greatest monarchs did not marry. And with their consorts consummate Their weightiest interests of state? For all the amours of princes are But guarantees of peace or war, Or what but marriage has a charm The rage of empires to disarm Make blood and desolation cease, And fire and sword unite in peace, When all their fierce contest for forage Conclude in articles of marriage? Nor does the genial bed provide Less for the int'rests of the bride; Who else had not the least pretence T' as much as due benevolence; Could no more title take upon her To virtue, quality, and honour. Than ladies-errant, unconfin'd, And feme-coverts t' all mankind All women would be of one piece, The virtuous matron and the miss; The nymphs of chaste Diana's train The same with those in LEWKNER's Lane; But for the difference marriage makes 'Twixt wives and ladies of the lakes; Besides the joys of place and birth, The sex's paradise on earth; A privilege so sacred held, That none will to their mothers yield; But rather than not go before, Abandon Heaven at the door. And if th' indulgent law allows A greater freedom to the spouse, The reason is, because the wife Runs greater hazards of her life; Is trusted with the form and matter Of all mankind by careful nature; Where man brings nothing but the stuff She frames the wond'rous fabric of; Who therefore, in a streight, may freely Demand the clergy of her belly, And make it save her the same way It seldom misses to betray; Unless both parties wisely enter Into the liturgy indenture, And though some fits of small contest Sometimes fall out among the best That is no more than ev'ry lover Does from his hackney-lady suffer; That makes no breach of faith and love, But rather (sometimes) serves t' improve. For as in running, ev'ry pace Is but between two legs a race, In which both do their uttermost To get before, and win the post, Yet when they're at their race's ends, They're still as kind and constant friends And, to relieve their weariness, By turns give one another ease; So all those false alarms of strife Between the husband and the wife, And little quarrels, often prove To be but new recruits of love; When those wh' are always kind or coy, In time must either tire or cloy. Nor are their loudest clamours more, Than as they're relish'd, sweet or sour; Like musick, that proves bad or good; According as 'tis understood. In all amours, a lover burns With frowns as well as smiles by turns; And hearts have been as aft with sullen As charming looks surpriz'd and stolen. Then why should more bewitching clamour Some lovers not as much enamour? For discords make the sweetest airs And curses are a kind of pray'rs; Too slight alloys for all those grand Felicities by marriage gain'd. For nothing else has pow'r to settle Th' interests of love perpetual; An act and deed, that that makes one heart Becomes another's counter-part, And passes fines on faith and love, Inroll'd and register'd above, To seal the slippery knots of vows, Which nothing else but death can loose. And what security's too strong, To guard that gentle heart from wrong, That to its friend is glad to pass Itself away, and all it has; And, like an anchorite, gives over This world for th' heaven of lover? I grant (quoth she) there are some few Who take that course, and find it true But millions whom the same does sentence To heav'n b' another wayrepentance. Love's arrows are but shot at rovers; Though all they hit, they turn to lovers; And all the weighty consequents Depend upon more blind events, Than gamesters, when they play a set With greatest cunning at piquet, Put out with caution, but take in They know not what, unsight, unseen, For what do lovers, when they're fast In one another's arms embrac't But strive to plunder, and convey Each other, like a prize, away? To change the property of selves, As sucking children are by elves? And if they use their persons so What will they to their fortunes do? Their fortunes! the perpetual aims Of all their extasies and flames. For when the money's on the book, And, All my worldly goodsbut spoke (The formal livery and seisin That puts a lover in possession,) To that alone the bridegroom's wedded; The bride a flam, that's superseded. To that their faith is still made good And all the oaths to us they vow'd: For when we once resign our pow'rs, W' have nothing left we can call ours: Our money's now become the Miss Of all your lives and services; And we forsaken, and postpon'd; But bawds to what before we own'd; Which, as it made y' at first gallant us, So now hires others to supplant us, Until 'tis all turn'd out of doors (As we had been) for new amours; For what did ever heiress yet By being born to lordships get? When the more lady sh' is of manours, She's but expos'd to more trepanners Pays for their projects and designs, And for her own destruction fines; And does but tempt them with her riches, To use her as the Dev'l does witches; Who takes it for a special grace To be their cully for a space, That when the time's expir'd, the drazels For ever may become his vassals: So she, bewitch'd by rooks and spirits, Betrays herself, and all sh' inherits; Is bought and sold, like stolen goods, By pimps, and match-makers, and bawds, Until they force her to convey, And steal the thief himself away. These are the everlasting fruits Of all your passionate love-suits, Th' effects of all your amorous fancies To portions and inheritances; Your love-sick rapture for fruition Of dowry, jointure, and tuition; To which you make address and courtship; Ad with your bodies strive to worship, That th' infants' fortunes may partake Of love too, for the mother's sake. For these you play at purposes And love your love's with A's and B's: For these at Beste and L'Ombre woo, And play for love and money too; Strive who shall be the ablest man At right gallanting of a fan; And who the most genteelly bred At sucking of a vizard-head; How best t' accost us in all quarters; T' our questionandcommand new Garters And solidly discourse upon All sorts of dresses, Pro and Con. For there's no mystery nor trade, But in the art of love is made: And when you have more debts to pay Than Michaelmas and Lady-Day And no way possible to do't, But love and oaths, and restless suit, To us y' apply to pay the scores Of all your cully'd, past amours; Act o'er your flames and darts again And charge us with your wounds and pain; Which others influences long since Have charm'd your noses with and shins; For which the surgeon is unpaid, And like to be, without our aid. Lord! what an am'rous thing is want! How debts and mortgages inchant! What graces must that lady have That can from executions save! What charms that can reverse extent And null decree and exigent! What magical attracts and graces, That can redeem from Scire facias! From bonds and statutes can discharge, And from contempts of courts enlarge! These are the highest excellencies Of all your true or false pretences: And you would damn yourselves, and swear As much t' an hostess dowager, Grown fat and pursy by retail Of pots of beer and bottled ale; And find her fitter for your turn; For fat is wondrous apt to burn; Who at your flames would soon take fire, Relent, and melt to your desire And like a candle in the socket, Dissolve her graces int' your pocket. By this time 'twas grown dark and late, When they heard a knocking at the gate, Laid on in haste with such a powder The blows grew louder still and louder; Which HUDIBRAS, as if th' had been Bestow'd as freely on his skin, Expounding, by his inward light, Or rather more prophetick fright To be the Wizard, come to search, And take him napping in the lurch Turn'd pale as ashes or a clout; But why or wherefore is a doubt For men will tremble, and turn paler With too much or too little valour. His heart laid on, as if it try'd To force a passage through his side, Impatient (as he vow'd) to wait 'em, But in a fury to fly at 'em; And therefore beat, and laid about, To find a cranny to creep out. But she, who saw in what a taking The Knight was by his furious quaking, Undaunted cry'd, Courage, Sir Knight; Know, I'm resolv'd to break no rite Of hospitality t' a stranger; But, to secure you out of danger, Will here myself stand sentinel, To guard this pass 'gainst SIDROPHEL. Women, you know, do seldom fail To make the stoutest men turn tail; And bravely scorn to turn their backs Upon the desp'ratest attacks. At this the Knight grew resolute As IRONSIDE and HARDIKNUTE His fortitude began to rally, And out he cry'd aloud to sally. But she besought him to convey His courage rather out o' th' way And lodge in ambush on the floor, Or fortify'd behind a door; That if the enemy shou'd enter, He might relieve her in th' adventure. Mean while they knock'd against the door As fierce as at the gate before, Which made the Renegado Knight Relapse again t' his former fright. He thought it desperate to stay Till th' enemy had forc'd his way But rather post himself, to serve The lady, for a fresh reserve His duty was not to dispute, But what sh' had order'd execute; Which he resolv'd in haste t' obey And therefore stoutly march'd away; And all h' encounter'd fell upon, Though in the dark, and all alone; Till fear, that braver feats performs Than ever courage dar'd in arms Had drawn him up before a pass To stand upon his guard, and face: This he courageously invaded, And having enter'd, barricado'd, Insconc'd himself as formidable As could be underneath a table, Where he lay down in ambush close, T' expect th' arrival of his foes. Few minutes he had lain perdue, To guard his desp'rate avenue Before he heard a dreadful shout, As loud as putting to the rout, With which impatiently alarm'd, He fancy'd th' enemy had storm'd, And, after ent'ring, SIDROPHEL Was fall'n upon the guards pell-mell He therefore sent out all his senses, To bring him in intelligences, Which vulgars, out of ignorance, Mistake for falling in a trance; But those that trade in geomancy, Affirm to be the strength of fancy; In which the Lapland Magi deal, And things incredible reveal. Mean while the foe beat up his quarters And storm'd the out-works of his fortress: And as another, of the same Degree and party, in arms and fame, That in the same cause had engag'd, At war with equal conduct wag'd By vent'ring only but to thrust His head a span beyond his post, B' a gen'ral of the cavaliers Was dragg'd thro' a window by th' ears; So he was serv'd in his redoubt And by the other end pull'd out. Soon as they had him at their mercy, They put him to the cudgel fiercely, As if they'd scorn'd to trade or barter, By giving or by taking quarter: They stoutly on his quarters laid, Until his scouts came in t' his aid. For when a man is past his sense, There's no way to reduce him thence, But twinging him by th' ears or nose Or laying on of heavy blows; And if that will not do the deed, To burning with hot irons proceed. No sooner was he come t' himself, But on his neck a sturdy elf Clapp'd, in a trice, his cloven hoof, And thus attack'd him with reproof; Mortal, thou art betray'd to us B' our friend, thy Evil Genius, Who, for thy horrid perjuries Thy breach of faith, and turning lies, The Brethren's privilege (against The wicked) on themselves, the Saints, Has here thy wretched carcase sent For just revenge and punishment; Which thou hast now no way to lessen, But by an open, free confession; For if we catch thee failing once, 'Twill fall the heavier on thy bones. What made thee venture to betray And filch the lady's heart away? To Spirit her to matrimony? -- That which contracts all matchesmoney. It was th' inchantment oft her riches That made m' apply t' your croney witches That, in return, wou'd pay th' expence, The wear and tear of conscience; Which I cou'd have patch'd up, and turn'd, For the hundredth part of what I earn'd. Didst thou not love her then? Speak true. No more (quoth he) than I love you. -- How would'st th' have us'd her, and her money? -- First turn'd her up to alimony; And laid her dowry out in law, To null her jointure with a flaw Which I before-hand had agreed T' have put, on purpose in the deed; And bar her widow's making over T' a friend in trust, or private lover. What made thee pick and chuse her out T' employ their sorceries about? -- That which makes gamesters play with those Who have least wit, and most to lose. But didst thou scourge thy vessel thus, As thou hast damn'd thyself to us? I see you take me for an ass: 'Tis true, I thought the trick wou'd pass Upon a woman well enough, As 't has been often found by proof, Whose humours are not to be won But when they are impos'd upon. For love approves of all they do That stand for candidates, and woo. Why didst thou forge those shameful lies Of bears and witches in disguise? That is no more than authors give The rabble credit to believe: A trick of following their leaders, To entertain their gentle readers; And we have now no other way Of passing all we do or say Which, when 'tis natural and true, Will be believ'd b' a very few, Beside the danger of offence, The fatal enemy of sense. Why did thou chuse that cursed sin, Hypocrisy, to set up in? Because it is in the thriving'st calling, The only Saints-bell that rings all in; In which all churches are concern'd And is the easiest to be learn'd: For no degrees, unless th' employ't, Can ever gain much, or enjoy't: A gift that is not only able To domineer among the rabble But by the laws impower'd to rout, And awe the greatest that stand out; Which few hold forth against, for fear Their hands should slip, and come too near; For no sin else among the Saints Is taught so tenderly against. What made thee break thy plighted vows? -- That which makes others break a house, And hang, and scorn ye all, before Endure the plague of being poor. Quoth he, I see you have more tricks Than all your doating politicks, That are grown old, and out of fashion, Compar'd with your New Reformation; That we must come to school to you To learn your more refin'd, and new. Quoth he, If you will give me leave To tell you what I now perceive, You'll find yourself an arrant chouse, If y' were but at a Meeting-House. 'Tis true, quoth he, we ne'er come there, Because, w' have let 'em out by th' year. Truly, quoth he, you can't imagine What wond'rous things they will engage in That as your fellow-fiends in Hell Were angels all before they fell, So are you like to be agen, Compar'd with th' angels of us men. Quoth he, I am resolv'd to be Thy scholar in this mystery; And therefore first desire to know Some principles on which you go. What makes a knave a child of God, And one of us?A livelihood. What renders beating out of brains And murder, godliness?Great gains. What's tender conscience?'Tis a botch, That will not bear the gentlest touch; But breaking out, dispatches more Than th' epidemical'st plague-sore. What makes y' encroach upon our trade, And damn all others? To be paid. What's orthodox, and true, believing Against a conscience?A good living. What makes rebelling against Kings A Good Old Cause?Administrings. What makes all doctrines plain and clear? -- About two hundred pounds a year. And that which was prov'd true before, Prove false again?Two hundred more. What makes the breaking of all oaths A holy duty?Food and cloaths. What laws and freedom, persecution? -- B'ing out of pow'r, and contribution. What makes a church a den of thieves? A dean and chapter, and white sleeves. Ad what would serve, if those were gone, To make it orthodox?Our own. What makes morality a crime, The most notorious of the time; Morality, which both the Saints, And wicked too, cry out against? -- Cause grace and virtue are within Prohibited degrees of kin And therefore no true Saint allows They shall be suffer'd to espouse; For Saints can need no conscience, That with morality dispense; As virtue's impious, when 'tis rooted In nature only, and not imputed But why the wicked should do so, We neither know, or care to do. What's liberty of conscience, I' th' natural and genuine sense? 'Tis to restore, with more security Rebellion to its ancient purity; And christian liberty reduce To th' elder practice of the Jews. For a large conscience is all one, And signifies the same with none. It is enough (quoth he) for once, And has repriev'd thy forfeit bones: NICK MACHIAVEL had ne'er a trick, (Though he gave his name to our Old Nick,) But was below the least of these That pass i' th' world for holiness. This said, the furies and the light In th' instant vanish'd out of sight, And left him in the dark alone, With stinks of brimstone and his own. The Queen of Night, whose large command Rules all the sea, and half the land, And over moist and crazy brains, In high spring-tides, at midnight reigns, Was now declining to the west To go to bed, and take her rest; When HUDIBRAS, whose stubborn blows Deny'd his bones that soft repose, Lay still expecting worse and more, Stretch'd out at length upon the floor; And though he shut his eyes as fast As if h' had been to sleep his last, Saw all the shapes that fear or wizards Do make the Devil wear for vizards, And pricking up his ears, to hark If he cou'd hear too in the dark, Was first invaded with a groan And after in a feeble tone, These trembling words: Unhappy wretch! What hast thou gotten by this fetch; For all thy tricks, in this new trade, Thy holy brotherhood o' th' blade? By sauntring still on some adventure, And growing to thy horse a Centaure? To stuff thy skin with swelling knobs Of cruel and hard-wooded drubs? For still th' hast had the worst on't yet, As well in conquest as defeat. Night is the sabbath of mankind, To rest the body and the mind Which now thou art deny'd to keep, And cure thy labour'd corpse with sleep. The Knight, who heard the words, explain'd, As meant to him, this reprimand, Because the character did hit Point-blank upon his case so fit; Believ'd it was some drolling spright, That staid upon the guard that night, And one of those h' had seen, and felt The drubs he had so freely dealt; When, after a short pause and groan, The doleful Spirit thus went on: This 'tis t' engage with dogs and bears Pell-mell together by the ears, And, after painful bangs and knocks To lie in limbo in the stocks, And from the pinnacle of glory Fall headlong into purgatory. (Thought he, this devil's full of malice, That in my late disasters rallies:) Condemn'd to whipping, but declin'd it, By being more heroic-minded: And at a riding handled worse, With treats more slovenly and coarse: Engag'd with fiends in stubborn wars And hot disputes with conjurers; And when th' hadst bravely won the day, Wast fain to steal thyself away. (I see, thought he, this shameless elf Wou'd fain steal me too from myself That impudently dares to own What I have suffer'd for and done,) And now but vent'ring to betray, Hast met with vengeance the same way. Thought he, how does the Devil know What 'twas that I design'd to do? His office of intelligence, His oracles, are ceas'd long since; And he knows nothing of the Saints, But what some treacherous spy acquaints. This is some pettifogging fiend, Some under door-keeper's friend's friend, That undertakes to understand, And juggles at the second-hand; And now would pass for Spirit Po And all mens' dark concerns foreknow. I think I need not fear him for't; These rallying devils do no hurt. With that he rouz'd his drooping heart, And hastily cry'd out, What art? A wretch (quoth he) whom want of grace Has brought to this unhappy place. I do believe thee, quoth the Knight; Thus far I'm sure th' art in the right; And know what 'tis that troubles thee Better than thou hast guess'd of me. Thou art some paultry, black-guard spright, Condemn'd to drudg'ry in the night Thou hast no work to do in th' house Nor half-penny to drop in shoes; Without the raising of which sum, You dare not be so troublesome, To pinch the slatterns black and blue, For leaving you their work to do. This is your bus'ness good Pug-Robin; And your diversion dull dry-bobbing, T' entice fanaticks in the dirt, And wash them clean in ditches for't; Of which conceit you are so proud, At ev'ry jest you laugh aloud As now you wou'd have done by me, But that I barr'd your raillery. Sir (quoth the voice) y'are no such Sophi As you would have the world judge of ye. If you design to weigh our talents I' the standard of your own false balance, Or think it possible to know Us ghosts as well as we do you; We, who have been the everlasting Companions of your drubs and basting And never left you in contest, With male or female, man or beast, But prov'd as true t' ye, and entire, In all adventures, as your Squire. Quoth he, That may be said as true By the idlest pug of all your crew: For none cou'd have betray'd us worse Than those allies of ours and yours. But I have sent him for a token To your Low-Country HOGEN-MOGEN To whose infernal shores I hope He'll swing like skippers in a rope. And, if y' have been more just to me (As I am apt to think) than he, I am afraid it is as true What th' ill-affected say of you: Y' have spous'd the Covenant and Cause, By holding up your cloven paws. Sir, quoth the voice, 'tis true, I grant, We made and took the Covenant; But that no more concerns the Cause Than other perj'ries do the laws, Which when they're prov'd in open court, Wear wooden peccadillo's for't: And that's the reason Cov'nanters Hold up their hands like rogues at bars. I see, quoth HUDIBRAS, from whence These scandals of the Saints commence, That are but natural effects Of Satan's malice, and his sects Those Spider-Saints, that hang by threads, Spun out o' th' intrails of their heads. Sir, quoth the voice, that may as true And properly be said of you, Whose talents may compare with either Or both the other put together. For all the Independents do, Is only what you forc'd 'em to; You, who are not content alone With tricks to put the Devil down But must have armies rais'd to back The gospel-work you undertake; As if artillery, and edge-tools, Were the only engines to save souls; While he, poor devil, has no pow'r By force to run down and devour; Has ne'er a Classis; cannot sentence To stools or poundage of repentance; Is ty'd up only to design, T' entice, and tempt, and undermine In which you all his arts out-do, And prove yourselves his betters too. Hence 'tis possessions do less evil Than mere temptations of the Devil, Which, all the horrid'st actions done Are charg'd in courts of law upon; Because unless they help the elf, He can do little of himself; And therefore where he's best possess'd Acts most against his interest; Surprizes none, but those wh' have priests To turn him out, and exorcists, Supply'd with spiritual provision, And magazines of ammunition With crosses, relicks, crucifixes Beads, pictures, rosaries, and pixes; The tools of working our salvation By mere mechanick operation; With holy water, like a sluice, To overflow all avenues. But those wh' are utterly unarm'd T' oppose his entrance, if he storm'd, He never offers to surprize, Although his falsest enemies; But is content to be their drudge And on their errands glad to trudge For where are all your forfeitures Entrusted in safe hands but ours? Who are but jailors of the holes And dungeons where you clap up souls; Like under-keepers, turn the keys, T' your mittimus anathemas; And never boggle to restore The members you deliver o're Upon demand, with fairer justice Than all your covenanting Trustees; Unless to punish them the worse, You put them in the secular pow'rs, And pass their souls, as some demise The same estate in mortgage twice; When to a legal Utlegation You turn your excommunication, And for a groat unpaid, that's due, Distrain on soul and body too. Thought he, 'tis no mean part of civil State prudence to cajole the Devil And not to handle him too rough, When h' has us in his cloven hoof. T' is true, quoth he, that intercourse Has pass'd between your friends and ours; That as you trust us, in our way, To raise your members, and to lay, We send you others of our own, Denounc'd to hang themselves or drown; Or, frighted with our oratory To leap down headlong many a story Have us'd all means to propagate Your mighty interests of state; Laid out our spiritual gifts to further Your great designs of rage and murther. For if the Saints are nam'd from blood, We only have made that title good; And if it were but in our power, We should not scruple to do more, And not be half a soul behind Of all dissenters of mankind. Right, quoth the voice, and as I scorn To be ungrateful, in return Of all those kind good offices, I'll free you out of this distress, And set you down in safety, where It is no time to tell you here. The cock crows, and the morn grows on, When 'tis decreed I must be gone; And if I leave you here till day You'll find it hard to get away. With that the Spirit grop'd about, To find th' inchanted hero out, And try'd with haste to lift him up; But found his forlorn hope, his crup Unserviceable with kicks and blows, Receiv'd from harden'd-hearted foes. He thought to drag him by the heels, Like Gresham carts, with legs for wheels; But fear, that soonest cures those sores In danger of relapse to worse, Came in t' assist him with it's aid And up his sinking vessel weigh'd. No sooner was he fit to trudge, But both made ready to dislodge. The Spirit hors'd him like a sack Upon the vehicle his back; And bore him headlong into th' hall, With some few rubs against the wall Where finding out the postern lock'd And th' avenues as strongly block'd, H' attack'd the window, storm'd the glass, And in a moment gain'd the pass; Thro' which he dragg'd the worsted souldier's Fore-quarters out by the head and shoulders; And cautiously began to scout, To find their fellow-cattle out. Nor was it half a minute's quest, E're he retriev'd the champion's beast, Ty'd to a pale, instead of rack; But ne'er a saddle on his back, Nor pistols at the saddle-bow, Convey'd away the Lord knows how, He thought it was no time to stay, And let the night too steal away; But in a trice advanc'd the Knight Upon the bare ridge, bolt upright: And groping out for RALPHO's jade, He found the saddle too was stray'd, And in the place a lump of soap On which he speedily leap'd up; And turning to the gate the rein, He kick'd and cudgell'd on amain. While HUDIBRAS, with equal haste, On both sides laid about as fast And spurr'd as jockies use to break, Or padders to secure, a neck Where let us leave 'em for a time, And to their Churches turn our rhyme; To hold forth their declining state Which now come near an even rate. CANTO II. THE ARGUMENT. ------------------------------------------------- The Saints engage in fierce Contests About their Carnal interests; To share their sacrilegious Preys, According to their Rates of Grace; Their various Frenzies to reform, When Cromwel left them in a Storm Till, in th' Effigy of Rumps, the Rabble Burns all their Grandees of the Cabal. ------------------------------------------------- THE learned write, an insect breeze Is but a mungrel prince of bees, That falls before a storm on cows, And stings the founders of his house; From whose corrupted flesh that breed Of vermin did at first proceed. So e're the storm of war broke out, Religion spawn'd a various rout Of petulant Capricious sects, The maggots of corrupted texts That first run all religion down, And after ev'ry swarm its own. For as the Persian Magi once Upon their mothers got their sons, That were incapable t' enjoy That empire any other way; So PRESBYTER begot the other Upon the good old Cause, his mother, Then bore then like the Devil's dam, Whose son and husband are the same. And yet no nat'ral tie of blood Nor int'rest for the common good Cou'd, when their profits interfer'd, Get quarter for each other's beard. For when they thriv'd, they never fadg'd But only by the ears engag'd: Like dogs that snarl about a bone, And play together when they've none, As by their truest characters, Their constant actions, plainly appears. Rebellion now began, for lack Of zeal and plunders to grow slack; The Cause and covenant to lessen, And Providence to b' out of season: For now there was no more to purchase O' th' King's Revenue, and the Churches, But all divided, shar'd, and gone, That us'd to urge the Brethren on; Which forc'd the stubborn'st for the Cause, To cross the cudgels to the laws That what by breaking them th' had gain'd. By their support might be maintain'd; Like thieves, that in a hemp-plot lie Secur'd against the hue-and-cry; For PRESBYTER and INDEPENDANT Were now turn'd plaintiff and defendant; Laid out their apostolic functions On carnal orders and injunctions; And all their precious Gifts and Graces On outlawries and scire facias; At Michael's term had many a trial, Worse than the Dragon and St. Michael, Where thousands fell, in shape of fees, Into the bottomless abyss. For when like brethren, and like friends They came to share their dividends, And ev'ry partner to possess His Church and State Joint-Purchases, In which the ablest Saint, and best, Was nam'd in trust by all the rest To pay their money; and, instead Of ev'ry Brother, pass the deed; He strait converted all his gifts To pious frauds and holy shifts; And settled all the other shares Upon his outward man and's heirs; Held all they claim'd as forfeit lands, Deliver'd up into his hands, And pass'd upon his conscience, By Pre-intail of Providence; Impeach'd the rest for reprobates, That had no titles to estates, But by their spiritual attaints Degraded from the right of Saints. This b'ing reveal'd, they now begun With law and conscience to fall on, And laid about as hot and brain-sick As th' Utter Barrister of SWANSWICK; Engag'd with moneybags as bold As men with sand bags did of old; That brought the lawyers in more fees Than all unsanctify'd Trustees; Till he who had no more to show I' th' case receiv'd the overthrow; Or both sides having had the worst They parted as they met at first. Poor PRESBYTER was now reduc'd, Secluded, and cashier'd, and chous'd Turn'd out, and excommunicate From all affairs of Church and State; Reform'd t' a reformado Saint, And glad to turn itinerant, To stroll and teach from town to town, And those he had taught up, teach down. And make those uses serve agen Against the new-enlighten'd men, As fit as when at first they were Reveal'd against the CAVALIER; Damn ANABAPTIST and FANATIC, As pat as Popish and Prelatic; And with as little variation, To serve for any Sect i' th' nation. The Good Old Cause, which some believe To be the Dev'l that tempted EVE With Knowledge, and does still invite The world to mischief with new Light, Had store of money in her purse When he took her for bett'r or worse; But now was grown deform'd and poor, And fit to be turn'd out of door. The INDEPENDENTS (whose first station Was in the rear of reformation, A mungrel kind of church-dragoons, That serv'd for horse and foot at once; And in the saddle of one steed The Saracen and Christian rid; Were free of ev'ry spiritual order, To preach, and fight, and pray, and murder) No sooner got the start to lurch Both disciplines, of War and Church And Providence enough to run The chief commanders of 'em down, But carry'd on the war against The common enemy o' th' Saints, And in a while prevail'd so far To win of them the game of war, And be at liberty once more T' attack themselves, as th' had before. For now there was no foe in arms, T' unite their factions with alarms But all reduc'd and overcome, Except their worst, themselves at home, Wh' had compass'd all they pray'd, and swore, And fought, and preach'd, and plunder'd for; Subdu'd the Nation, Church, and State And all things, but their laws and hate: But when they came to treat and transact, And share the spoil of all th' had ransackt, To botch up what th' had torn and rent, Religion and the Government They met no sooner, but prepar'd To pull down all the war had spar'd Agreed in nothing, but t' abolish, Subvert, extirpate, and demolish. For knaves and fools b'ing near of kin As Dutch Boors are t' a Sooterkin, Both parties join'd to do their best To damn the publick interest, And herded only in consults, To put by one another's bolts; T' out-cant the Babylonian labourers, At all their dialects of jabberers, And tug at both ends of the saw, To tear down Government and Law. For as two cheats, that play one game Are both defeated of their aim; So those who play a game of state, And only cavil in debate, Although there's nothing lost or won, The publick bus'ness is undone; Which still the longer 'tis in doing, Becomes the surer way to ruin. This, when the ROYALISTS perceiv'd, (Who to their faith as firmly cleav'd, And own'd the right they had paid down So dearly for, the Church and Crown,) Th' united constanter, and sided The more, the more their foes divided. For though out-number'd, overthrown And by the fate of war run down) Their duty never was defeated, Nor from their oaths and faith retreated; For loyalty is still the same, Whether it win or lose the game; True as the dial to the sun Although it be not shin'd upon. But when these brethren in evil, Their adversaries, and the Devil, Began once more to shew them play, And hopes, at least, to have a day They rally'd in parades of woods, And unfrequented solitudes; Conven'd at midnight in out-houses, T' appoint new-rising rendezvouzes, And with a pertinacy unmatch'd For new recruits of danger watch'd. No sooner was one blow diverted, But up another party started; And, as if nature too, in haste To furnish out supplies as fast Before her time, had turn'd destruction T' a new and numerous production, No sooner those were overcome, But up rose others in their room, That, like the Christian faith, increast The more, the more they were supprest Whom neither chains, nor transportation, Proscription, sale, or confiscation, Nor all the desperate events Of former try'd experiments Nor wounds cou'd terrify, nor mangling, To leave off loyalty and dangling; Nor death (with all his bones) affright From vent'ring to maintain the right, From staking life and fortune down 'Gainst all together, for the Crown; But kept the title of their cause From forfeiture, like claims in laws And prov'd no prosp'rous usurpation Can ever settle in the nation; Until, in spight of force and treason, They put their loyalty in possession; And by their constancy and faith, Destroy 'd the mighty men of Gath. Toss'd in a furious hurricane Did OLIVER give up his reign; And was believ'd, as well by Saints, As mortal men and miscreants, To founder in the Stygian Ferry; Until he was retriev'd by STERRY Who, in a faise erroneous dream, Mistook the New Jerusalem Prophanely for the apocryphal False Heaven at the end o' th' Hall; Whither it was decreed by Fate His precious reliques to translate. So ROMULUS was seen before B' as orthodox a Senator; From whose divine illumination He stole the Pagan revelation. Next him his Son and Heir Apparent Succeeded, though a lame vicegerent; Who first laid by the Parliament, The only crutch on which he leant; And then sunk underneath the State That rode him above horseman's weight. And now the Saints began their reign, For which th' had yearn'd so long in vain, And felt such bowel-hankerings, To see an empire all of Kings. Deliver'd from the Egyptian awe Of Justice, Government, and Law, And free t' erect what spiritual Cantons Should be reveal'd, or Gospel Hans-Towns, To edify upon the ruins Of JOHN of LEYDEN'S old Out-goings; Who for a weather-cock hung up, Upon the Mother Church's top; Was made a type, by Providence, Of all their revelations since; And now fulfill'd by his successors, Who equally mistook their measures For when they came to shape the model, Not one could fit another's noddle; But found their Light and Gifts more wide From fadging than th' unsanctify'd; While ev'ry individual brother Strove hand to fist against another; And still the maddest, and most crackt, Were found the busiest to transact For though most hands dispatch apace, And make light work, (the proverb says,) Yet many diff'rent intellects Are found t' have contrary effects; And many heads t' obstruct intrigues As slowest insects have most legs. Some were for setting up a King; But all the rest for no such thing, Unless KING JESUS. Others tamper'd For FLEETWOOD, DESBOROUGH, and LAMBERT; Some for the Rump; and some, more crafty, For Agitators, and the safety; Some for the Gospel, and massacres Of Spiritual Affidavit-makers, That swore to any human regence Oaths of supremacy and allegiance; Yea, though the ablest swearing Saint That vouch'd the Bulls o' th' Covenant: Others for pulling down th' high-places Of Synods and Provincial Classes That us'd to make such hostile inroads Upon the Saints, like bloody NIMRODS Some for fulfilling prophecies, And th' expiration of th' excise And some against th' Egyptian bondage Of holy-days, and paying poundage: Some for the cutting down of groves, And rectifying bakers' loaves: And some for finding out expedients Against the slav'ry of obedience. Some were for Gospel Ministers, And some for Red-coat Seculars, As men most fit t' hold forth the word, And wield the one and th' other sword. Some were for carrying on the work Against the Pope, and some the Turk; Some for engaging to suppress, The Camisado of surplices, That gifts and dispensations hinder'd, And turn'd to th' Outward Man the Inward; More proper for the cloudy night Of Popery than Gospel Light. Others were for abolishing That tool of matrimony, a ring, With which th' unsanctify'd bridegroom Is marry'd only to a thumb; (As wise as ringing of a pig, That us'd to break up ground, and dig;) The bride to nothing but her will, That nulls the after-marriage still Some were for th' utter extirpation Of linsey-woolsey in the nation; And some against all idolizing The Cross in shops-books, or Baptizing Others to make all things recant The Christian or Surname of Saint; And force all churches, streets, and towns, The holy title to renounce. Some 'gainst a Third Estate of Souls, And bringing down the price of coals: Some for abolishing black-pudding, And eating nothing with the blood in; To abrogate them roots and branches; While others were for eating haunches Of warriors, and now and then The flesh of Kings and mighty men And some for breaking of their bones With rods of ir'n, by secret ones: For thrashing mountains, and with spells For hallowing carriers' packs and bells: Things that the legend never heard of, But made the wicked sore afear'd of. The quacks of Government (who sate At th' unregarded helm of State, And understood this wild confusion Of fatal madness and delusion, Must, sooner than a prodigy, Portend destruction to be nigh) Consider'd timely how t' withdraw, And save their wind-pipes from the law; For one rencounter at the bar Was worse than all th' had 'scap'd in war; And therefore met in consultation To cant and quack upon the nation; Not for the sickly patient's sake For what to give, but what to take; To feel the pulses of their fees, More wise than fumbling arteries: Prolong the snuff of life in pain, And from the grave recoverGain. 'Mong these there was a politician With more heads than a beast in vision, And more intrigues in ev'ry one Than all the whores of Babylon: So politic, as if one eye Upon the other were a spy, That, to trepan the one to think The other blind, both strove to blink; And in his dark pragmatick way, As busy as a child at play. H' had seen three Governments run down, And had a hand in ev'ry one; Was for 'em and against 'em all, But barb'rous when they came to fall For, by trepanning th' old to ruin He made his int'rest with the new one Play'd true and faithful, though against His conscience, and was still advanc'd. For by the witchcraft of rebellion Transform'd t' a feeble state-camelion By giving aim from side to side, He never fail'd to save his tide, But got the start of ev'ry state, And at a change ne'er came too late; Cou'd turn his word, and oath, and faith As many ways as in a lath; By turning, wriggle, like a screw, Int' highest trust, and out, for new. For when h' had happily incurr'd, Instead of hemp, to be preferr'd And pass'd upon a government, He pay'd his trick, and out he went But, being out, and out of hopes To mount his ladder (more) of ropes, Wou'd strive to raise himself upon The publick ruin, and his own; So little did he understand The desp'rate feats he took in hand. For when h' had got himself a name For fraud and tricks, he spoil'd his game; Had forc'd his neck into a noose, To shew his play at fast and loose; And when he chanc'd t' escape, mistook For art and subtlety, his luck. So right his judgment was cut fit And made a tally to his wit, And both together most profound At deeds of darkness under-ground; As th' earth is easiest undermin'd By vermin impotent and blind. By all these arts, and many more, H' had practis'd long and much before, Our state artificer foresaw Which way the world began to draw. For as old sinners have all points O' th' compass in their bones and joints, Can by their pangs and aches find All turns and changes of the wind, And better than by NAPIER's bones Feel in their own the age of moons; So guilty sinners in a state Can by their crimes prognosticate, And in their consciences feel pain Some days before a show'r of rain. He therefore wisely cast about All ways he cou'd, t' ensure his throat; And hither came, t' observe and smoke What courses other riskers took And to the utmost do his best To save himself, and hang the rest. To match this Saint, there was another As busy and perverse a Brother, An haberdasher of small wares In politicks and state affairs; More Jew than Rabbi ACHITOPHEL And better gifted to rebel: For when h' had taught his tribe to 'spouse The Cause, aloft, upon one house, He scorn'd to set his own in order, But try'd another, and went further; So suddenly addicted still To's only principle, his will, That whatsoe'er it chanc'd to prove, Nor force of argument cou'd move; Nor law, nor cavalcade of Holborn Could render half a grain less stubborn. For he at any time would hang For th' opportunity t' harangue; And rather on a gibbet dangle, Than miss his dear delight, to wrangle; In which his parts were so accomplisht, That, right or wrong, he ne'er was non-plusht; But still his tongue ran on, the less Of weight it bore, with greater ease; And with its everlasting clack Set all men's ears upon the rack. No sooner cou'd a hint appear, But up he started to picqueer, And made the stoutest yield to mercy, When he engag'd in controversy. Not by the force of carnal reason, But indefatigable teazing; With vollies of eternal babble, And clamour, more unanswerable. For though his topics, frail and weak Cou'd ne'er amount above a freak, He still maintain'd 'em, like his faults, Against the desp'ratest assaults; And back'd their feeble lack of sense, With greater heat and confidence? As bones of Hectors, when they differ, The more they're cudgel'd grow the stiffer. Yet when his profit moderated, The fury of his heat abated. For nothing but his interest Cou'd lay his Devil of Contest. It was his choice, or chance; or curse, T' espouse the Cause for bett'r or worse, And with his worldly goods and wit, And soul and body, worship'd it: But when he found the sullen trapes Possess'd with th' Devil, worms, and claps; The Trojan mare, in foal with Greeks, Not half so full of jadish tricks; Though squeamish in her outward woman As loose and rampant as Dol Common; He still resolv'd to mend the matter, T' adhere and cleave the obstinater; And still the skittisher and looser Her freaks appear'd, to sit the closer. For fools are stubborn in their way, As coins are harden'd by th' allay: And obstinacy's ne'er so stiff As when 'tis in a wrong belief. These two, with others, being met And close in consultation set, After a discontented pause, And not without sufficient cause, The orator we nam'd of late, Less troubled with the pangs of State Than with his own impatience, To give himself first audience, After he had a while look'd wise, At last broke silence, and the ice. Quoth he, There's nothing makes me doubt Our last out-goings brought about, More than to see the characters Of real jealousies and fears Not feign'd, as once, but, sadly horrid, Scor'd upon ev'ry Member's forehead; Who, 'cause the clouds are drawn together, And threaten sudden change of weather, Feel pangs and aches of state-turns, And revolutions in their corns; And, since our workings-out are cross'd Throw up the Cause before 'tis lost. Was it to run away we meant, When, taking of the Covenant, The lamest cripples of the brothers Took oaths to run before all others; But in their own sense only swore To strive to run away before; And now would prove, that words and oath Engage us to renounce them both? 'Tis true, the Cause is in the lurch Between a Right and Mungrel-Church; The Presbyter and Independent, That stickle which shall make an end on't; As 'twas made out to us the last Expedient( I mean Marg'ret's Fast,) When Providence had been suborn'd, What answer was to be return'd. Else why should tumults fright us now, We have so many times come through? And understand as well to tame As when they serve our turns t'inflame: Have prov'd how inconsiderable Are all engagements of the rabble, Whose frenzies must be reconcil'd With drums and rattles, like a child; But never prov'd so prosperous As when they were led on by us For all our scourging of religion Began with tumult and sedition; When hurricanes of fierce commotion Became strong motives to devotion; (As carnal seamen, in a storm, Turn pious converts, and reform;) When rusty weapons, with chalk'd edges, Maintain'd our feeble privileges; And brown-bills levy'd in the City, Made bills to pass the Grand Committee; When zeal, with aged clubs and gleaves, Gave chace to rochets and white sleeves, And made the Church, and State, and Laws Submit t' old iron and the Cause. And as we thriv'd by tumults then, So might we better now agen, If we knew how, as then we did, To use them rightly in our need: Tumults, by which the mutinous Betray themselves instead of us. The hollow-hearted, disaffected, And close malignant are detected, Who lay their lives and fortunes down For pledges to secure our own; And freely sacrifice their ears T' appease our jealousies and fears; And yet, for all these providences W' are offer'd, if we had our senses; We idly sit like stupid blockheads, Our hands committed to our pockets; And nothing but our tongues at large, To get the wretches a discharge: Like men condemn'd to thunder-bolts Who, ere the blow, become mere dolts; Or fools besotted with their crimes, That know not how to shift betimes, And neither have the hearts to stay, Nor wit enough to run away; Who, if we cou'd resolve on either, Might stand or fall at least together; No mean or trivial solace To partners in extreme distress; Who us'd to lessen their despairs By parting them int' equal shares; As if the more they were to bear, They felt the weight the easier; And ev'ry one the gentler hung, The more he took his turn among. But 'tis not come to that, as yet, If we had courage left, or wit; Who, when our fate can be no worse, Are fitted for the bravest course; Have time to rally, and prepare Our last and best defence, despair; Despair, by which the gallant'st feats Have been atchiev'd in greatest straits, And horrid'st danger safely wav'd, By being courageously out-brav'd; As wounds by wider wounds are heal'd, And poisons by themselves expell'd: And so they might be now agen, If we were, what we shou'd be, men; And not so dully desperate To side against ourselves with Fate; As criminals, condemn'd to suffer, Are blinded first, and then turn'd over. This comes of breaking Covenants, And setting up Exauns of Saints That fine, like aldermen, for grace, To be excus'd the efficace. For Spiritual men are too transcendent, That mount their banks for Independent, To hang like MAHOMET in th' air Or St. IGNATIUS at his prayer, By pure geometry, and hate Dependence upon Church or State; Disdain the pedantry o' th' letter; And since obedience is better (The Scripture says) than sacrifice, Presume the less on't will suffice; And scorn to have the moderat'st stints Prescrib'd their peremptory hints, Or any opinion, true or false Declar'd as such, in doctrinals But left at large to make their best on, Without b'ing call'd t' account or question, Interpret all the spleen reveals; As WHITTINGTON explain'd the bells; And bid themselves turn back agen Lord May'rs of New Jerusalem; But look so big and over-grown, They scorn their edifiers t' own, Who taught them all their sprinkling lessons Their tones, and sanctified expressions Bestow'd their Gifts upon a Saint, Like Charity on those that want; And learn'd th' apocryphal bigots T' inspire themselves with short-hand notes; For which they scorn and hate them worse Than dogs and cats do sow-gelders. For who first bred them up to pray, And teach, the House of Commons Way? Where had they all their gifted phrases But from our CALAMYS and CASES? Without whose sprinkling and sowing, Who e'er had heard of NYE or OWEN? Their dispensations had been stifled, But for our ADONIRAM BYFIELD; And had they not begun the war, Th' had ne'er been sainted, as they are: For Saints in peace degenerate, And dwindle down to reprobate; Their zeal corrupts, like standing water In th' intervals of war and slaughter; Abates the sharpness of its edge, Without the power of sacrilege. And though they've tricks to cast their sins As easy as serpents do their skins That in a while grow out agen, In peace they turn mere carnal men, And from the most refin'd of saints, As naturally grow miscreants, As barnacles turn SOLAND geese In th' Islands of the ORCADES. Their dispensation's but a ticket, For their conforming to the wicked; With whom the greatest difference Lies more in words, and shew, than sense. For as the Pope, that keeps the gate Of Heaven, wears three crowns of state; So he that keeps the gate of Hell, Proud CERBERUS, wears three heads as well; And if the world has any troth Some have been canoniz'd in both. But that which does them greatest harm, Their spiritual gizzards are too warm, Which puts the over-heated sots In fevers still, like other goats. For though the Whore bends Hereticks With flames of fire, like crooked sticks, Our Schismaticks so vastly differ, Th' hotter th' are, they grow the stiffer; Still setting off their spiritual goods With fierce and pertinacious feuds. For zeal's a dreadful termagant, That teaches Saints to tear and rant, And Independents to profess The doctrine of dependences: Turns meek, and secret, sneaking ones, To raw-heads fierce and bloody-bones: And, not content with endless quarrels Against the wicked, and their morals, The GIBELLINES, for want of GUELPHS Divert their rage upon themselves. For now the war is not between The Brethren and the Men of Sin, But Saint and Saint, to spill the blood Of one another's brotherhood; Where neither side can lay pretence To liberty of conscience, Or zealous suff'ring for the cause, To gain one groat's-worth of applause; For though endur'd with resolution 'Twill ne'er amount to persecution. Shall precious Saints, and secret ones, Break one another's outward bones, And eat the flesh of Brethren, Instead of Kings and mighty men? When fiends agree among themselves, Shall they be found the greatest elves? When BELL's at union with the DRAGON, And BAAL-PEOR friends with DAGON, When savage bears agree with bears Shall secret ones lug Saints by th' ears, And not atone their fatal wrath, When common danger threatens both? Shall mastiffs, by the coller pull'd, Engag'd with bulls, let go their hold And Saints, whose necks are pawn'd at stake, No notice of the danger take? But though no pow'r of Heav'n or Hell Can pacify phanatick zeal, Who wou'd not guess there might be hopes The fear of gallowses and ropes, Before their eyes, might reconcile Their animosities a while; At least until th' had a clear stage, And equal freedom to engage Without the danger of surprize By both our common enemies? This none but we alone cou'd doubt, Who understand their workings out; And know them, both in soul and conscience Giv'n up t' as reprobate a nonsense As spiritual out-laws, whom the pow'r Of miracle can ne'er restore We, whom at first they set up under, In revelation only of plunder Who since have had so many trials Of their encroaching self-denials, That rook'd upon us with design To out-reform, and undermine; Took all our interest and commands Perfidiously out of our hands; Involv'd us in the guilt of blood Without the motive gains allow'd, And made us serve as ministerial, Like younger Sons of Father BELIAL; And yet, for all th' inhuman wrong Th' had done us and the Cause so long, We never fail to carry on The work still as we had begun; But true and faithfully obey'd And neither preach'd them hurt, nor pray'd; Nor troubled them to crop our ears, Nor hang us like the cavaliers; Nor put them to the charge of gaols, To find us pill'ries and cart's-tails Or hangman's wages, which the State Was forc'd (before them) to be at, That cut, like tallies, to the stumps, Our ears for keeping true accompts, And burnt our vessels, like a new Seal'd peck, or bushel, for b'ing true; But hand in hand, like faithful brothers, Held for the Cause against all others, Disdaining equally to yield One syllable of what we held And though we differ'd now and then 'Bout outward things, and outward men, Our inward men, and constant frame Of spirit, still were near the same; And till they first began to cant And sprinkle down the Covenant, We ne'er had call in any place, Nor dream'd of teaching down free grace, But join'd our gifts perpetually Against the common enemy. Although 'twas ours and their opinion, Each other's Church was but a RIMMON; And yet, for all this gospel-union, And outward shew of Church-communion, They'll ne'er admit us to our shares Of ruling Church or State affairs; Nor give us leave t' absolve, or sentence T' our own conditions of repentance; But shar'd our dividend o' th' Crown, We had so painfully preach'd down; And forc'd us, though against the grain, T' have calls to teach it up again: For 'twas but justice to restore The wrongs we had receiv'd before; And when 'twas held forth in our way W' had been ungrateful not to pay; Who, for the right w' have done the nation, Have earn'd our temporal salvation; And put our vessels in a way Once more to come again in play. For if the turning of us out Has brought this Providence about, And that our only suffering Is able to bring in the King, What would our actions not have done Had we been suffer'd to go on? And therefore may pretend t' a share, At least; in carrying on th' affair. But whether that be so, or not, W' have done enough to have it thought; And that's as good as if w' had done't, And easier pass't upon account: For if it be but half deny'd, 'Tis half as good as justifi'd. The world is nat'rally averse To all the truth it sees or hears But swallows nonsense, and a lie, With greediness and gluttony And though it have the pique, and long, 'Tis still for something in the wrong; As women long, when they're with child, For things extravagant and wild; For meats ridiculous and fulsome, But seldom any thing that's wholesome; And, like the world, men's jobbernoles Turn round upon their ears, the poles; And what they're confidently told, By no sense else can be control'd. And this, perhaps, may prove time means Once more to hedge-in Providence For as relapses make diseases More desp'rate than their first accesses, If we but get again in pow'r, Our work is easier than before And we more ready and expert I' th' mystery to do our part. We, who did rather undertake The first war to create than make, And when of nothing 'twas begun, Rais'd funds as strange to carry 't on; Trepann'd the State, and fac'd it down With plots and projects of our own; And if we did such feats at first, What can we now we're better vers'd? Who have a freer latitude Than sinners give themselves, allow'd, And therefore likeliest to bring in, On fairest terms, our discipline; To which it was reveal'd long since, We were ordain'd by Providence; When three Saints Ears, our predecessors, The Cause's primitive Confessors, B'ing crucify'd, the nation stood In just so many years of blood; That, multiply'd by six, exprest The perfect number of the beast, And prov'd that we must be the men To bring this work about agen; And those who laid the first foundation, Compleat the thorough Reformation: For who have gifts to carry on So great a work, but we alone? What churches have such able pastors, And precious, powerful, preaching masters? Possess'd with absolute dominions O'er brethren's purses and opinions? And trusted with the double keys Of Heaven and their warehouses; Who, when the Cause is in distress, Can furnish out what sums they please That brooding lie in bankers' hands, To be dispos'd at their commands; And daily increase and multiply, With doctrine, use, and usury: Can fetch in parties (as in war All other heads of cattle are) From th' enemy of all religions, As well as high and low conditions, And share them, from blue ribbands, down To all blue aprons in the town; From ladies hurried in calleches, With cor'nets at their footmens' breeches, To bawds as fat as Mother Nab; All guts and belly, like a crab. Our party's great, and better ty'd With oaths and trade than any side, Has one considerable improvement, To double fortify the Cov'nant: I mean our Covenant to purchase Delinquents titles, and the Churches; That pass in sale, from hand to hand, Among ourselves, for current land; And rise or fall, like Indian actions, According to the rate of factions Our best reserve for Reformation When new out-goings give occasion; That keeps the loins of Brethren girt The Covenant (their creed) t' assert; And when th' have pack'd a Parliament, Will once more try th' expedient: Who can already muster friends, To serve for members, to our ends, That represent no part o' th' nation, But Fisher's-Folly Congregation; Are only tools to our intrigues And sit like geese to hatch our eggs; Who, by their precedents of wit, T' out-fast, out-loiter, and out-sit, Can order matters underhand, To put all bus'ness to a stand; Lay publick bills aside for private, And make 'em one another drive out; Divert the great and necessary, With trifles to contest and vary; And make the Ration represent And serve for us, in Parliament Cut out more work than can be done. In PLATO'S year, but finish none; Unless it be the Bulls of LENTHAL, That always pass'd for fundamental; Can set up grandee against grandee, To squander time away, and bandy; Make Lords and Commoners lay sieges To one another's privileges, And, rather than compound the quarrel Engage to th' inevitable peril Of both their ruins; th' only scope And consolation of our hope; Who though we do not play the game, Assist as much by giving aim: Can introduce our ancient arts, For heads of factions t' act their parts; Know what a leading voice is worth, A seconding, a third, or fourth How much a casting voice comes to That turns up trump, of ay, or no; And, by adjusting all at th' end, Share ev'ry one his dividend An art that so much study cost, And now's in danger to be lost Unless our ancient virtuosos, That found it out, get into th' Houses. These are the courses that we took To carry things by hook or crook; And practis'd down from forty-four Until they turn'd us out of door Besides the herds of Boutefeus We set on work without the House; When ev'ry knight and citizen Kept legislative journeymen To bring them in intelligence From all points of the rabble's sense, And fill the lobbies of both Houses With politick important buzzes: Set committees of cabals To pack designs without the walls; Examine, and draw up all news, And fit it to our present use. Agree upon the plot o' th' farce, And ev'ry one his part rehearse Make Q's of answers, to way-lay What th' other pasties like to say What repartees, and smart reflections, Shall be return'd to all objections; And who shall break the master-jest And what, and how, upon the rest Held pamphlets out, with safe editions, Of proper slanders and seditions; And treason for a token send, By Letter to a Country Friend; Disperse lampoons, the only wit That men, like burglary, commit; Wit falser than a padder's face, That all its owner does betrays; Who therefore dares not trust it when He's in his calling to be seen; Disperse the dung on barren earth, To bring new weeds of discord forth; Be sure to keep up congregations, In spight of laws and proclamations: For Charlatans can do no good Until they're mounted in a crowd; And when they're punish'd, all the hurt Is but to fare the better for't; As long as confessors are sure Of double pay for all th' endure; And what they earn in persecution, Are paid t' a groat in contribution. Whence some Tub-Holders-forth have made In powd'ring-tubs their richest trade; And while they kept their shops in prison, Have found their prices strangely risen. Disdain to own the least regret For all the Christian blood w' have let; 'Twill save our credit, and maintain Our title to do so again; That needs not cost one dram of sense, But pertinacious impudence. Our constancy t' our principles, In time will wear out all things else; Like marble statues rubb'd in pieces With gallantry of pilgrims' kisses; While those who turn and wind their oaths, Have swell'd and sunk, like other froths; Prevail'd a while, but 'twas not long Before from world to world they swung: As they had turn'd from side to side, And as the changelings liv'd, they dy'd. This said, th' impatient States-monger Could now contain himself no longer; Who had not spar'd to shew his piques Against th' haranguer's politicks, With smart remarks of leering faces, And annotations of grimaces. After h' had administer'd a dose Of snuff-mundungus to his nose, And powder'd th' inside of his skull, Instead of th' outward jobbernol, He shook it with a scornful look On th' adversary, and thus he spoke: In dressing a calves head, although The tongue and brains together go, Both keep so great a distance here, 'Tis strange if ever they come near; For who did ever play his gambols With such insufferable rambles To make the bringing in the KING, And keeping of him out, one thing? Which none could do, but those that swore T' as point-plank nonsense heretofore: That to defend, was to invade; And to assassinate, to aid Unless, because you drove him out, (And that was never made a doubt,) No pow'r is able to restore And bring him in, but on your score A spiritual doctrine, that conduces Most properly to all your uses. 'Tis true, a scorpions oil is said To cure the wounds the vermine made; And weapons, drest with salves, restore And heal the hurts they gave before; But whether Presbyterians have So much good nature as the salve, Or virtue in them as the vermine Those who have try'd them can determine. Indeed, 'th pity you should miss Th' arrears of all your services, And for th' eternal obligation Y' have laid upon th' ungrateful nation Be us'd so unconscionably hard, As not to find a just reward, For letting rapine loose, and murther, To rage just so far, but no further; And setting all the land on fire To burn't to a scantling, but no higher; For vent'ring to assassinate, And cut the throats, of Church and State, And not be allow'd the fittest men To take the charge of both agen: Especially, that have the grace Of self-denying, gifted face; Who when your projects have miscarry'd, Can lay them, with undaunted forehead, On those you painfully trepann'd And sprinkled in at second hand; As we have been, to share the guilt Of Christian Blood, devoutly spilt; For so our ignorance was flamm'd To damn ourselves, t' avoid being damn'd; Till finding your old foe, the hangman, Was like to lurch you at back-gammon And win your necks upon the set, As well as ours, who did but bet, (For he had drawn your ears before And nick'd them on the self-same score,) We threw the box and dice away, Before y' had lost us, at foul play; And brought you down to rook, and lie, And fancy only, on the by; Redeem'd your forfeit jobbernoles From perching upon lofty poles; And rescu'd all your outward traitors From hanging up like aligators; For which ingeniously y' have shew'd Your Presbyterian gratitude: Would freely have paid us home in kind, And not have been one rope behind. Those were your motives to divide, And scruple, on the other side. To turn your zealous frauds, and force, To fits of conscience and remorse; To be convinc'd they were in vain, And face about for new again; For truth no more unveil'd your eyes Than maggots are convinc'd to flies And therefore all your lights and calls Are but apocryphal and false, To charge us with the consequences Of all your native insolences That to your own imperious wills Laid Law and Gospel neck and heels; Corrupted the Old Testament, To serve the New for precedent T' amend its errors, and defects With murther, and rebellion texts; Of which there is not any one In all the Book to sow upon And therefore (from your tribe) the Jews Held Christian doctrine forth, and use; As Mahomet (your chief) began To mix them in the Alchoran: Denounc'd and pray'd, with fierce devotion, And bended elbows on the cushion; Stole from the beggars all your tones And gifted mortifying groans; Had Lights where better eyes were blind, As pigs are said to see the wind Fill'd Bedlam with predestination, And Knights-bridge with illumination: Made children, with your tones, to run for't, As bad as bloody-bones, or LUNSFORD: While women, great with child, miscarry'd, For being to malignants marry'd Transform'd all wives to DALILAHS Whose husbands were not for the Cause; And turn'd the men to ten horn'd cattle, Because they came not out to battle Made taylors' prentices turn heroes, For fear of being transform'd to MEROZ: And rather forfeit their indentures, Than not espouse the Saints' adventures. Could transubstantiate, metamorphose, And charm whole herds of beasts, like Orpheus; Inchant the King's and Churches lands T' obey and follow your commands; And settle on a new freehold, As MARCLY-HILL had done of old: Could turn the Covenant, and translate The gospel into spoons and plate: Expound upon all merchants' cashes, And open th' intricatest places Could catechize a money-box, And prove all powches orthodox; Until the Cause became a DAMON And PYTHIAS the wicked Mammon. And yet, in spight of all your charms To conjure legion up in arms, And raise more devils in the rout Than e'er y' were able to cast out Y' have been reduc'd, and by those fools Bred up (you say) in your own schools; Who, though but gifted at your feet, Have made it plain, they have more wit; By whom y' have been so oft trepann'd And held forth out of all command, Out-gifted, out-impuls'd, out-done, And out-reveal'd at carryings-on; Of all your dispensations worm'd, Out-Providenc'd, and out-reform'd; Ejected out of Church and State, And all things, but the peoples' hate; And spirited out of th' enjoyments Of precious, edifying employments, By those who lodg'd their Gifts and Graces, Like better bowlers, in your places; All which you bore with resolution, Charg'd on th' accompt of persecution; And though most righteously opprest, Against your wills, still acquiesc'd; And never hum'd and hah'd sedition, Nor snuffled treason, nor misprision. That is, because you never durst; For had you preach'd and pray'd your worst, Alas! you were no longer able To raise your posse of the rabble: One single red-coat centinel Out-charm'd the magick of the spell; And, with his squirt-fire, could disperse Whole troops with chapter rais'd and verse. We knew too well those tricks of yours, To leave it ever in your powers; Or trust our safeties, or undoings, To your disposing of out-goings; Or to your ordering Providence One farthing's-worth of consequence. For had you pow'r to undermine, Or wit to carry a design, Or correspondence to trepan, Inveigle, or betray one man There's nothing else that intervenes, And bars your zeal to use the means And therefore wond'rous like, no doubt, To bring in Kings, or keep them out. Brave undertakers to restore That cou'd not keep yourselves in pow'r; T' advance the int'rests of the Crown, That wanted wit to keep your own. 'Tis true, you have (for I'd be loth To wrong ye) done your parts in both To keep him out, and bring him in, As grace is introduc'd by sin; For 'twas your zealous want of sense, And sanctify'd impertinence, Your carrying business in a huddle That forc'd our rulers to new-model; Oblig'd the State to tack about, And turn you, root and branch, all out; To reformado, one and all, T' your great Croysado General. Your greedy slav'ring to devour, Before 'twas in your clutches, pow'r, That sprung the game you were to set, Before y' had time to draw the net; Your spight to see the Churches' lands Divided into other hands, And all your sacrilegious ventures Laid out in tickets and debentures; Your envy to he sprinkled down, By Under-Churches in the town; And no course us'd to stop their mouths, Nor th' Independents' spreading growths All which consider'd, 'tis most true None bring him in so much as you Who have prevail'd beyond their plots Their midnight juntos, and seal'd knots That thrive more by your zealous piques, Than all their own rash politicks And you this way may claim a share In carrying (as you brag) th' affair; Else frogs and toads, that croak'd the Jews From PHARAOH and his brick-kilns loose, And flies and mange, that set them free From task-masters and slavery, Were likelier to do the feat In any indiff'rent man's conceit For who e'er heard of restoration Until your thorough Reformation? That is, the King's and Churches' land Were sequester'd int' other hands: For only then, and not before, Your eyes were open'd to restore. And when the work was carrying on, Who cross'd it, but yourselves alone? As by a world of hints appears All plain and extant as your ears. But first, o' th' first: The Isle of WIGHT Will rise up, if you should deny't; Where HENDERSON, and th' other masses, Were sent to cap texts, and put cases; To pass for deep and learned scholars, Although but paltry Ob and Sollers: As if th' unseasonable fools Had been a coursing in the schools; Until th' had prov'd the Devil author O' th' Covenant, and the Cause his daughter, For when they charg'd him with the guilt Of all the blood that had been spilt, They did not mean he wrought th' effusion, In person, like Sir PRIDE, or HUGHSON But only those who first begun The quarrel were by him set on; And who could those be but the Saints, Those Reformation Termagants? But e'er this pass'd, the wise debate Spent so much time, it grew too late; For OLIVER had gotten ground, T' inclose him with his warriors round Had brought his Providence about, And turn'd th' untimely sophists out Nor had the UXBRIDGE bus'ness less Of nonsense in't, or sottishness, When from a scoundrel Holder-forth, The scum as well as son o' th' earth, Your mighty Senators took law; At his command, were forc'd t' withdraw, And sacrifice the peace o' th' nation To doctrine, use and application. So when the SCOTS, your constant cronies, Th' espousers of your Cause and monies Who had so often, in your aid, So many ways been soundly paid, Came in at last for better ends, To prove themselves your trusty friends, You basely left them, and the Church They train'd you up to, in the lurch, And suffer'd your own tribe of Christians To fall before, as true Philistines. This shews what utensils y' have been, To bring the King's concernments in; Which is so far from being true, That none but he can bring in you: And if he take you into trust, Will find you most exactly just: Such as will punctually repay With double interest, and betray. Not that I think those pantomimes, Who vary action with the times, Are less ingenious in their art, Than those who dully act one part; Or those who turn from side to side, More guilty than the wind and tide. All countries are a wise man's home, And so are governments to some, Who change them for the same intrigues That statesmen use in breaking leagues; While others, in old faiths and troths, Look odd as out-of-fashion'd cloths; And nastier in an old opinion, Than those who never shift their linnen. For true and faithful's sure to lose, Which way soever the game goes; And whether parties lose or win, Is always nick'd, or else hedg'd in: While pow'r usurp'd, like stol'n delight Is more bewitching than the right; And when the times begin to alter, None rise so high as from the halter. And so may we, if w' have but sense To use the necessary means; And not your usual stratagems On one another, Lights and Dreams To stand on terms as positive, As if we did not take, but give: Set up the Covenant on crutches 'Gainst those who have us in their clutches, And dream of pulling churches down, Before w' are sure to prop our own: Your constant method of proceeding, Without the carnal mans of heeding; Who 'twixt your inward sense and outward, Are worse, than if y' had none, accoutred. I grant, all courses are in vain, Unless we can get in again; The only way that's left us now; But all the difficulty's, How? 'Tis true, w' have money, th' only pow 'r That all mankind falls down before; Money, that, like the swords of kings, Is the last reason of all things; And therefore need not doubt our play Has all advantages that way; As long as men have faith to sell, And meet with those that can pay well; Whose half-starv'd pride, and avarice One Church and State will not suffice T' expose to sale, beside the wages Of storing plagues to after-ages. Nor is our money less our own, Than 'twas before we laid it down; For 'twill return, and turn t' account, If we are brought, in play upon't: Or but, by casting knaves, get in, What pow 'r can hinder us to win? We know the arts we us'd before In peace and war, and something more; And by th' unfortunate events, Can mend our next experiments: For when w' are taken into trust, How easy are the wisest choust? Who see but th' outsides of our feats, And not their secret springs and weights; And while they're busy at their ease, Can carry what designs we please. How easy is it to serve for agents To prosecute our old engagements? To keep the Good Old Cause on foot, And present power from taking root? Inflame them both with false alarms Of plots and parties taking arms; To keep the Nation's wounds too wide From healing up of side to side; Profess the passionat'st concerns For both their interests by turns; The only way to improve our own By dealing faithfully with none; (As bowls run true, by being made On purpose false, and to be sway'd:) For if we should be true to either, 'Twould turn us out of both together; And therefore have no other means To stand upon our own defence, But keeping up our ancient party In vigour, confident and hearty: To reconcile our late dissenters Our brethren, though by other venters; Unite them, and their different maggots, As long and short sticks are in faggots, And make them join again as close As when they first began t' espouse; Erect them into separate New Jewish tribes, in Church and State; To join in marriage and commerce, And only among themselves converse; And all that are not of their mind Make enemies to all mankind: Take all religions in and stickle From Conclave down to Conventicle; Agreeing still, or disagreeing, According to the Light in being. Sometimes for liberty of conscience, And spiritual mis-rule, in one sense; But in another quite contrary, As dispensations chance to vary; And stand for, as the times will bear it All contradictions of the Spirit: Protect their emissaries, empower'd To preach sedition and the word; And when they're hamper'd by the laws, Release the lab'rers for the Cause And turn the persecution back On those that made the first attack; To keep them equally in awe, From breaking or maintaining law: And when they have their fits too soon Before the full-tides of the moon, Put off their zeal t' a fitter season For sowing faction in and treason; And keep them hooded, and their Churches, Like hawks from baiting on their perches That, when the blessed time shall come Of quitting BABYLON and ROME, They may be ready to restore Their own Fifth Monarchy once more. Meanwhile be better arm'd to fence Against revolts of Providence. By watching narrowly, and snapping All blind sides of it, they happen For if success could make us Saints, Or ruin turn'd us miscreants: A scandal that wou'd fall too hard Upon a few, and. unprepar'd. These are the courses we must run, Spight of our hearts, or be undone; And not to stand on terms and freaks Before we have secur'd our necks; But do our work, as out of sight, As stars by day, and suns by night; All licence of the people own, In opposition to the Crown; And for the Crown as fiercely side, The head and body to divide; The end of all we first design'd, And all that yet remains behind Be sure to spare no publick rapine On all emergencies, that happen; For 'tis as easy to supplant Authority as men in want; As some of us, in trusts, have made The one hand with the other trade; Gain'd vastly by their joint endeavour; The right a thief; the left receiver; And what the one, by tricks, forestall'd, The other, by as sly, retail'd. For gain has wonderful effects T' improve the Factory of Sects; The rule of faith in all professions. And great DIANA of the EPHESIANS; Whence turning of Religion's made The means to turn and wind a trade: And though some change it for the worse, They put themselves into a course; And draw in store of customers, To thrive the better in commerce: For all Religions flock together Like tame and wild fowl of a feather; To nab the itches of their sects, As jades do one another's necks. Hence 'tis, Hypocrisy as well Will serve t' improve a Church as ZEAL: As Persecution or Promotion, Do equally advance Devotion. Let business, like ill watches, go Sometime too fast, sometime too slow; For things in order are put out So easy, Ease itself will do't; But when the feat's design'd and meant, What miracle can bar th' event? For 'tis more easy to betray, Than ruin any other way. All possible occasions start The weighty'st matters to divert; Obstruct, perplex, distract, intangle, And lay perpetual trains to wrangle. But in affairs of less import That neither do us good nor hurt, And they receive as little by, Out-fawn as much, and out-comply; And seem as scrupulously just, To bait our hooks for greater trust; But still be careful to cry down All publick actions, though our own: The least miscarriage aggravate, And charge it all upon the Sate; Express the horrid'st detestation And pity the distracted nation Tell stories scandalous and false, I' th' proper language of cabals, Where all a subtle statesman says, Is half in words, and half in face; (As Spaniards talk in dialogues Of heads and shoulders, nods and shrugs:) Entrust it under solemn vows Of mum, and silence, and the rose, To be retail'd again in whispers For th' easy credulous to disperse. Thus far the StatesmanWhen a shout, Heard at a distance, put him out; And straight another, all aghast, Rush'd in with equal fear and haste; Who star'd about, as pale as death, And, for a while, as out of breath; Till having gather'd up his wits, He thus began his tale by fits. That beastly rabblethat came down From all the garretsin the town, And stalls, and shop-boardsin vast swarms, With new-chalk'd billsand rusty arms, To cry the Causeup, heretofore, And bawl the BISHOPSout of door Are now drawn upin greater shoals, To roastand broil us on the coals, And all the Grandeesof our Members Are carbonadingon the embers; Knights, Citizens, and Burgesses Held forth by Rumpsof Pigs and Geese, That serve for Charactersand Badges. To represent their Personages: Each bonfire is a funeral pile, In which they roast, and scorch, and broil And ev'ry representative Have vow'd to roastand broil alive: And 'tis a miracle, we are not Already sacrific' d incarnate. For while we wrangle here, and jar W' are grilly'd all at TEMPLE-BAR: Some on the sign-post of an ale-house, Hang in effigy, on the gallows; Made up of rags, to personate Respective Officers of State; That henceforth they may stand reputed, Proscrib'd in law, and executed; And while the Work is carrying on Be ready listed under DON, That worthy patriot, once the bellows And tinder-box, of all his fellows; The activ'st Member of the Five, As well as the most primitive; Who, for his faithful service then Is chosen for a Fifth agen: (For since the State has made a Quint Of Generals, he's listed in't.) This worthy, as the world will say, Is paid in specie, his own way; For, moulded to the life in clouts Th' have pick'd from dung-hills hereabouts, He's mounted on a hazel bavin, A cropp'd malignant baker gave 'm; And to the largest bone-fire riding, They've roasted COOK already and PRIDE in; On whom in equipage and state, His scarecrow fellow-members wait, And march in order, two and two, As at thanksgivings th' us'd to do; Each in a tatter'd talisman Like vermin in effigie slain. But (what's more dreadful than the rest) Those Rumps are but the tail o' th' Beast, Set up by Popish engineers, As by the crackers plainly appears; For none but Jesuits have a mission To preach the faith with ammunition, And propagate the Church with powder: Their founder was a blown-up Soldier. These spiritual pioneers o' th' Whore's That have the charge of all her stores, Since first they fail'd in their designs, To take in Heav'n by springing mines, And with unanswerable barrels Of gunpowder dispute their quarrels Now take a course more practicable, By laying trains to fire the rabble, And blow us up in th' open streets, Disguis'd in Rumps, like Sambenites; More like to ruin, and confound Than all the doctrines under ground. Nor have they chosen Rumps amiss For symbols of State-mysteries; Though some suppose 'twas but to shew How much they scorn'd the Saints, the few; Who, 'cause they're wasted to the stumps, Are represented best by Rumps. But Jesuits have deeper reaches In all their politick far-fetches, And from the Coptick Priest, Kircherus Found out this mystick way to jeer us. For, as th' Egyptians us'd by bees T' express their antick PTOLOMIES; And by their stings, the swords they wore, Held forth authority and power; Because these subtil animals Bear all their int'rests in their tails; And when they're once impar'd in that, Are banish'd their well-order'd state; They thought all governments were best By Hieroglyphick Rumps exprest. For, as in bodies natural, The rump's the fundament of all; So, in a commonwealth, or realm, The government is call'd the helm; With which, like vessels under sail, They're turn'd and winded by the tail; The tail, which birds and fishes steer Their courses with through sea and air; To whom the rudder of the rump is The same thing with the stern and compass. This shews how perfectly the Rump And Commonwealth in nature jump. For as a fly, that goes to bed, Rests with his tail above his head So in this mungrel state of ours; The rabble are the supreme powers; That hors'd us on their backs, to show us A jadish trick at last, and throw us. The learned Rabbins of the Jews Write there's a bone, which they call leuz, I' th' rump of man, of such a virtue, No force in nature can do hurt to; And therefore at the last great day, All th' other members shall, they say Spring out of this, as from a seed All sorts of vegetals proceed; From whence the learned sons of art Os Sacrum justly stile that part. Then what can better represent Than this Rump Bone the Parliament; That, alter several rude ejections, And as prodigious resurrections, With new reversions of nine lives, Starts up, and like a cat revives? But now, alas! they're all expir'd, And th' House, as well as Members, fir'd; Consum'd in kennels by the rout, With which they other fires put out: Condemn'd t' ungoverning distress And paultry, private wretchedness; Worse than the Devil, to privation, Beyond all hopes of restoration; And parted, like the body and soul, From all dominion and controul. We, who cou'd lately with a look Enact, establish, or revoke; Whose arbitrary nods gave law, And frowns kept multitudes in awe; Before the bluster of whose huff All hats, as in a storm, flew off; Ador'd and bowed to by the great, Down to the footman and valet; Had more bent knees than chapel-mats, And prayers than the crowns of hats; Shall now be scorn'd as wretchedly; For ruin's just as low as high; Which might be suffer'd, were it all The horror that attends our fall: For some of us have scores more large Than heads and quarters can discharge; And others, who, by restless scraping, With publick frauds, and private rapine, Have mighty heaps of wealth amass'd, Would gladly lay down all at last; And to be but undone, entail Their vessels on perpetual jail; And bless the Dev'l to let them farms Of forfeit souls on no worse terms. This said, a near and louder shout Put all th' assembly to the rout, Who now begun t' out-run their fear, As horses do from whom they bear; But crowded on with so mach haste, Until th' had block'd the passage fast And barricado'd it with haunches Of outward men, and bulks, and paunches, That with their shoulders strove to squeeze, And rather save a crippled piece Of all their crush'd and broken members Than have them grilled on the embers; Still pressing on with heavy packs Of one another on their backs: The van-guard could no longer hear The charges of the forlorn rear But, born down headlong by the rout, Were trampled sorely under foot: Yet nothing prov'd so formidable As the horrid cookery of the rabble; And fear, that keeps all feeling out As lesser pains are by the gout, Reliev'd 'em with a fresh supply Of rallied force enough to fly, And beat a Tuscan running-horse, Whose jockey-rider is all spurs. CANTO III THE ARGUMENT. ------------------------------------------------- The Knight and squire's prodigious Flight To quit th' inchanted Bow'r by Night. He plods to turn his amorous Suit T' a Plea in Law, and prosecute Repairs to Counsel, to advise 'Bout managing the Enterprise; But first resolves to try by Letter, And one more fair Address, to get her. ------------------------------------------------- WHO wou'd believe what strange bugbears Mankind creates itself of fears That spring like fern, that insect weed, Equivocally, without seed; And have no possible foundation But merely in th' imagination; And yet can do more dreadful feats Than hags, with all their imps and teats Make more bewitch and haunt themselves Than all their nurseries of elves? For fear does things so like a witch, 'Tis hard t' unriddle which is which: Sets up Communities of senses, To chop and change intelligences; As Rosicrucian virtuosos Can see with ears, and hear with noses; And when they neither see nor hear, Have more than both supply'd by fear That makes 'em in the dark see visions, And hag themselves with apparitions; And when their eyes discover least, Discern the subtlest objects best Do things not contrary, alone, To th' course of nature, but its own; The courage of the bravest daunt And turn poltroons as valiant: For men as resolute appear With too much as too little fear And when they're out of hopes of flying, Will run away from death by dying; Or turn again to stand it out, And those they fled, like lions, rout. This HUDIBRAS had prov'd too true, Who, by the furies left perdue, And haunted with detachments, sent From Marshal Legion's regiment, Was by a fiend, as counterfeit, Reliev'd and rescu'd with a cheat; When nothing but himself, and fear, Was both the imp and conjurer; As, by the rules o' th' virtuosi, It follows in due form of poesie. Disguis'd in all the masks of night, We left our champion on his flight, At blind man's buff, to grope his way In equal fear of night and day, Who took his dark and desp'rate course, He knew no better than his horse; And, by an unknown Devil led, (He knew as little whither,) fled. He never was in greater need, Nor less capacity, of speed; Disabled, both in man and beast, To fly and run away his best; To keep the enemy, and fear From equal falling on his rear. And though with kicks and bangs he ply'd The further and the nearer side, (As seamen ride with all their force, And tug as if they row'd the horse And when the hackney sails most swift, Believe they lag, or run a-drift,) So, though he posted e'er so fast, His fear was greater than his haste: For fear, though fleeter than the wind Believes 'tis always left behind. But when the morn began t' appear, And shift t' another scene his fear, He found his new officious shade, That came so timely to his aid And forc'd him from the foe t' escape, Had turn'd itself to RALPHO's shape; So like in person, garb, and pitch, 'Twas hard t' interpret which was which. For RALPHO had no sooner told The Lady all he had t' unfold, But she convey'd him out of sight, To entertain the approaching Knight; And, while he gave himself diversion, T' accommodate his beast and person And put his beard into a posture At best advantage to accost her, She order'd th' anti-masquerade (For his reception) aforesaid: But when the ceremony was done The lights put out, and furies gone, And HUDIBRAS, among the rest, Convey'd away, as RALPHO guess'd, The wretched caitiff, all alone, (As he believ'd) began to moan And tell his story to himself, The Knight mistook him for an elf; And did so still till he began To scruple at RALPH's Outward Man; And thought, because they oft agreed T' appear in one another's stead, And act the Saint's and Devil's part With undistinguishable art, They might have done so now, perhaps, And put on one another's shapes And therefore, to resolve the doubt, He star'd upon him, and cry'd out, What art? My 'Squire, or that bold Sprite That took his place and shape to-night? Some busy indepenent pug Retainer to his Synagogue? Alas! quoth he, I'm none of those, Your bosom friends, as you suppose; But RALPH himself, your trusty 'Squire, Wh' has dragg'd your Dunship out o' th' mire And from th' inchantments of a widow, Wh' had turn'd you int' a beast, have freed you; And, though a prisoner of war, Have brought you safe where you now are; Which you would gratefully repay Your constant Presbyterian way. That's stranger (quoth the Knight) and stranger. Who gave thee notice of my danger? Quoth he, Th' infernal Conjurer Pursu'd and took me prisoner; And knowing you were hereabout, Brought me along to find you out; Where I, in hugger-mugger hid, Have noted all they said or did: And though they lay to him the pageant I did not see him, nor his agent; Who play'd their sorceries out of sight, T' avoid a fiercer second fight. But didst thou see no Devils then? Not one (quoth he) but carnal men A little worse than fiends in hell, And that She-Devil Jezebel, That laugh'd and tee-he'd with derision, To see them take your deposition. What then (quoth HUDIBRAS) was he That play'd the Dev'l to examine me? A rallying weaver in the town, That did it in a parson's gown; Whom all the parish take for gifted; But, for my part, I ne'er believ'd it: In which you told them all your feats, Your conscientious frauds and cheats; Deny'd your whipping, and confest The naked truth of all the rest, More plainly than the Rev'rend Writer That to our Churches veil'd his Mitre; All which they took in black and white, And cudgell'd me to under-write. What made thee, when they all were gone, And none but thou and I alone To act the Devil, and forbear To rid me of my hellish fear? Quoth he, I knew your constant rate And frame of sp'rit too obstinate To be by me prevail'd upon With any motives of my own; And therefore strove to counterfeit The Dev'l a-while, to nick your wit; The Devil, that is your constant crony, That only can prevail upon ye; Else we might still have been disputing, And they with weighty drubs confuting. The Knight who now began to find Th' had left the enemy behind, And saw no farther harm remain But feeble weariness and pain; Perceiv'd, by losing of their way, Th' had gain'd th' advantage of the day; And, by declining of the road, They had, by chance, their rear made good; He ventur'd to dismiss his fear, That parting's wont to rent and tear, And give the desperat'st attack To danger still behind its back. For having paus'd to recollect And on his past success reflect, T' examine and consider why, And whence, and how, they came to fly, And when no Devil had appear'd, What else, it cou'd be said, he fear'd; It put him in so fierce a rage, He once resolv'd to re-engage; Toss'd like a foot-ball back again, With shame and vengeance, and disdain. Quoth he, it was thy cowardice That made me from this leaguer rise And when I'd half reduc'd the place, To quit it infamously base Was better cover'd by the new Arriv'd detachment then I knew; To slight my new acquests, and run Victoriously from battles won; And reck'ning all I gain'd or lost, To sell them cheaper than they cost; To make me put myself to flight And conqu'ring run away by night To drag me out, which th' haughty foe Durst never have presum'd to do To mount me in the dark, by force, Upon the bare ridge of my horse; Expos'd in querpo to their rage, Without my arms and equipage; Lest, if they ventur'd to pursue, I might th' unequal fight renew; And, to preserve thy Outward Man Assum'd my place, and led the van. All this quoth RALPH, I did, 'tis true, Not to preserve my self, but you; You, who were damn'd to baser drubs Than wretches feel in powd'ring tubs. To mount two-wheel'd carroches, worse Than managing a wooden-horse Dragg'd out through straiter holes by th' ears, Eras'd or coup'd for perjurers; Who, though th' attempt had prov'd in vain Had had no reason to complain: But since it prosper'd, 'tis unhandsome To blame the hand that paid our ransome, And rescu'd your obnoxious bones From unavoidable battoons. The enemy was reinforc'd, And we disabled, and unhors'd, Disarm'd, unqualify'd for fight, And no way left but hasty flight, Which though as desp'rate in th' attempt Has giv'n you freedom to condemn't. But were our bones in fit condition To reinforce the expedition, 'Tis now unseasonable, and vain, To think of falling on again. No martial project to surprize Can ever be attempted twice; Nor cast design serve afterwards, As gamesters tear their losing-cards, Beside, our bangs of man and beast Are fit for nothing now but rest; And for a-while will not be able To rally, and prove serviceable; And therefore I, with reason, chose This stratagem t' amuse our foes; To make an honourable retreat, And wave a total sure defeat; For those that fly may fight again, Which he can never do that's slain. Hence timely running's no mean part Of conduct in the martial art; By which some glorious feats atchieve, As citizens by breaking thrive; And cannons conquer armies, while They seem to draw off and recoil; Is held the gallantest course, and bravest To great exploits, as well as safest; That spares th' expence of time and pains, And dangerous beating out of brains; And in the end prevails as certain As those that never trust to fortune; But make their fear do execution Beyond the stoutest resolution; As earthquakes kill without a blow, And, only trembling, overthrow If th' ancients crown'd their bravest men That only sav'd a citizen, What victory could e'er be won, If ev'ry one would save but one Or fight endanger'd to be lost Where all resolve to save the most? By this means, when a battle's won, The war's as far from being done; For those that save themselves, and fly, Go halves, at least, i' th' victory; And sometimes, when the loss is small, And danger great, they challenge all; Print new additions to their feats, And emendations in Gazettes; And when, for furious haste to run They durst not stay to fire a gun, Have done't with bonfires, and at home Made squibs and crackers overcome; To set the rabble on a flame, And keep their governors from blame; Disperse the news the pulpit tells, Confirm'd with fire-works and with bells; And though reduc'd to that extream, They have been forc'd to sing Te Deum; Yet, with religious blasphemy By flattering Heaven with a lie And for their beating giving thanks, Th' have rais'd recruits, and fill'd their banks; For those who run from th' enemy, Engage them equally to fly; And when the fight becomes a chace, Those win the day that win the race And that which would not pass in fights, Has done the feat with easy flights; Recover'd many a desp'rate campaign With Bordeaux, Burgundy, and Champaign; Restor'd the fainting high and mighty With brandy-wine and aqua-vitae; And made 'em stoutly overcome With bachrach, hoccamore, and mum; Whom the uncontroul'd decrees of fate To victory necessitate; With which, although they run or burn They unavoidably return: Or else their sultan populaces Still strangle all their routed Bassas. Quoth HUDIBRAS, I understand What fights thou mean'st at sea and land, And who those were that run away, And yet gave out th' had won the day; Although the rabble sous'd them for't, O'er head and ears in mud and dirt. 'Tis true, our modern way of war Is grown more politick by far, But not so resolute, and bold Nor ty'd to honour, as the old. For now they laugh at giving battle, Unless it be to herds of cattle; Or fighting convoys of provision, The whole design o' the expedition: And not with downright blows to rout The enemy, but eat them out: As fighting, in all beasts of prey, And eating, are perform'd one way, To give defiance to their teeth And fight their stubborn guts to death; And those atchieve the high'st renown, That bring the others' stomachs down, There's now no fear of wounds, nor maiming; All dangers are reduc'd to famine; And feats of arms, to plot, design, Surprize, and stratagem, and mine; But have no need nor use of courage, Unless it be for glory or forage: For if they fight, 'tis but by chance When one side vent'ring to advance, And come uncivilly too near, Are charg'd unmercifully i' th' rear; And forc'd with terrible resistance, To keep hereafter at a distance; To pick out ground to incamp upon, Where store of largest rivers run, That serve, instead of peaceful barriers, To part th' engagements of their warriors; Where both from side to side may skip And only encounter at bo-peep: For men are found the stouter-hearted, The certainer th' are to be parted, And therefore post themselves in bogs, As th' ancient mice attack'd the frogs And made their mortal enemy, The water-rat, their strict ally. For 'tis not now, who's stout and bold, But who bears hunger best, and cold; And he's approv'd the most deserving Who longest can hold out at starving; And he that routs most pigs and cows, The formidablest man of prowess. So th' emperor CALIGULA, That triumph'd o'er the British Sea Took crabs and oysters prisoners, Lobsters, 'stead of cuirasiers, Engag'd his legions in fierce bustles With periwinkles, prawns, and muscles; And led his troops with furious gallops To charge whole regiments of scallops Not like their ancient way of war, To wait on his triumphal carr But when he went to dine or sup More bravely eat his captives up; And left all war, by his example, Reduc'd to vict'ling of a camp well. Quoth RALPH, By all that you have said, And twice as much that I cou'd add, 'Tis plain you cannot now do worse Than take this out-of-fashion'd course; To hope, by stratagem, to woo her, Or waging battle to subdue her Though some have done it in romances, And bang'd them into amorous fancies; As those who won the AMAZONS, By wanton drubbing of their bones; And stout Rinaldo gain'd his bride, By courting of her back and side. But since those times and feats are over They are not for a modern lover, When mistresses are too cross-grain'd By such addresses to be gain'd; And if they were, wou'd have it out With many another kind of bout. Therefore I hold no course s' infeasible, As this of force to win the JEZEBEL; To storm her heart, by th' antick charms Of ladies errant, force of arms; But rather strive by law to win her And try the title you have in her. Your case is clear; you have her word, And me to witness the accord Besides two more of her retinue To testify what pass'd between you; More probable, and like to hold, Than hand, or seal, or breaking gold; For which so many, that renounc'd Their plighted contracts, have been trounc'd And bills upon record been found That forc'd the ladies to compound; And that, unless I miss the matter, Is all the bus'ness you look after. Besides, encounters at the bar Are braver now than those in war In which the law does execution With less disorder and confusion Has more of honour in't, some hold Not like the new way, but the old When those the pen had drawn together Decided quarrels with the feather, And winged arrows kill'd as dead, And more than bullets now of lead. So all their combats now, as then, Are manag'd chiefly by the pen; That does the feat with braver vigours, In words at length, as well as figures; Is judge of all the world performs In voluntary feats of arms And whatsoe'er's atchiev'd in fight Determines which is wrong or right: For whether you prevail, or lose All must be try'd there in the close; And therefore 'tis not wise to shun What you must trust to ere y' have done. The law, that settles all you do, And marries where you did but woo; That makes the most perfidious lover A lady, that's as false, recover; And if it judge upon your side Will soon extend her for your bride; And put her person, goods, or lands, Or which you like best int' your hands. For law's the wisdom of all ages, And manag'd by the ablest sages; Who, though their bus'ness at the bar Be but a kind of civil war, In which th' engage with fiercer dudgeons Than e'er the GRECIANS did and TROJANS, They never manage the contest T' impair their public interest; Or by their controversies lessen The dignity of their profession: Not like us Brethren, who divide Our Commonwealth, the Cause, and Side; And though w' are all as near of kindred As th' outward man is to the inward, We agree in nothing, but to wrangle About the slightest fingle-fangle; While lawyers have more sober sense Than t' argue at their own expence, But make their best advantages Of others' quarrels, like the Swiss; And, out of foreign controversies, By aiding both sides, fill their purses; But have no int'rest in the cause For which th' engage, and wage the laws; Nor further prospect than their pay, Whether they lose or win the day: And though th' abounded in all ages With sundry learned clerks and sages, Though all their business be dispute, Which way they canvass ev'ry suit, Th' have no disputes about their art, Nor in Polemicks controvert: While all professions else are found With nothing but disputes t' abound Divines of all sorts, and physicians, Philosophers, mathematicians: The Galenist and Paracelsian Condemn the way each other deals in: Anatomists dissect and mangle, To cut themselves out work to wrangle Astrologers dispute their dreams, That in their sleeps they talk of schemes: And heralds stickle, who got who So many hundred years ago. But lawyers are too wise a nation T' expose their trade to disputation; Or make the busy rabble judges Of all their secret piques and grudges; In which whoever wins the day, The whole profession's sure to pay. Beside, no mountebanks, nor cheats, Dare undertake to do their feats When in all other sciences They swarm, like insects, and increase. For what bigot durst ever draw, By inward light, a deed in law? Or could hold forth, by revelation An answer to a declaration? For those that meddle with their tools Will cut their fingers, if they're fools; And if you follow their advice, In bills, and answers, and replies They'll write a love-letter in chancery, Shall bring her upon oath to answer ye, And soon reduce her to b' your wife, Or make her weary of her life. The Knight, who us'd with tricks and shifts To edify by RALPHO's Gifts, But in appearance cry'd him down, To make them better seem his own, (All Plagiaries' constant course Of sinking when they take a purse) Resolv'd to follow his advice, But kept it from him by disguise; And, after stubborn contradiction, To counterfeit his own conviction, And by transition fall upon The resolution as his own. Quoth he, This gambol thou advisest Is of all others the unwisest; For if I think by law to gain her, There's nothing sillier or vainer 'Tis but to hazard my pretence, Where nothing's certain, but th' expence; To act against myself, and traverse My suit and title, to her favours And if she shou'd (which Heav'n forbid) O'erthrow me, as the fidler did, What aftercourse have I to take, 'Gainst losing all I have at stake? He that with injury is griev'd, And goes to law to be reliev'd Is sillier than a sottish chowse, Who, when thief has robb'd his house, Applies himself to cunning men, To help him to his goods agen; When all he can expect to gain Is but to squander more in vain; And yet I have no other way But is as difficult to play. For to reduce her by main force, Is now in vain; by fair means, worse; But worst of all, to give her over, 'Till she's as desp'rate to recover For bad games are thrown up too soon, Until th' are never to be won. But since I have no other course But is as bad t' attempt, or worse, He that complies against his will, Is of his own opinion still; Which he may adhere to, yet disown, For reasons to himself best known: But 'tis not to b' avoided now, For SIDROPHEL resolves to sue; Whom I must answer, or begin Inevitably first with him. For I've receiv'd advertisement By times enough, of his intent; And knowing he that first complains Th' advantage of the business gains; For Courts of Justice understand The plaintiff to be eldest hand; Who what he pleases may aver; The other, nothing, till he swear; Is freely admitted to all grace, And lawful favour, by his place; And, for his bringing custom in Has all advantages to win. I, who resolve to oversee No lucky opportunity, Will go to council, to advise Which way t' encounter, or surprize And, after long consideration, Have found out one to fit th' occasion; Most apt for what I have to do, As counsellor and justice too. And truly so, no doubt, he was A lawyer fit for such a case. An old dull sot, who told the clock For many years at Bridewell-dock, At Westminster, and Hicks's-Hall, And Hiccius Doctius play'd in all; Where, in all governments and times, H' had been both friend and foe to crimes, And us'd two equal ways of gaining By hind'ring justice or maintaining; To many a whore gave priviledge And whipp'd for want of quarteridge: Cart-loads of bawds to prison sent For b'ing behind a fortnight's rent And many a trusty pimp and croney To Puddle-dock for want of money; Engag'd the constable to seize All those that would not break the peace, Nor give him back his own foul words, Though sometimes Commoners or Lords, And kept 'em prisoners of course For being sober at ill hours; That in the morning he might free Or bind 'em over for his fee; Made monsters fine, and puppet-plays, For leave to practise in their ways; Farm'd out all cheats, and went a share With th' headborough and scavenger; And made the dirt i' th' streets compound For taking up the publick ground; The kennel, and the King's highway For being unmolested, pay; Let out the stocks, and whipping-post, And cage, to those that gave him most; Impos'd a tax on bakers' ears, And for false weights on chandelers; Made victuallers and vintners fine For arbitrary ale and wine; But was a kind and constant friend To all that regularly offend; As residentiary bawds And brokers that receive stol'n goods; That cheat in lawful mysteries, And pay church duties and his fees; But was implacable, and awkward, To all that interlop'd and hawker'd. To this brave man the Knight repairs For council in his law-affairs And found him mounted in his pew, With books and money plac'd for shew, Like nest-eggs to make clients lay And for his false opinion pay To whom the knight, with comely grace, Put off his hat to put his case Which he as proudly entertain'd As th' other courteously strain'd; And, to assure him 't was not that He look'd for, bid him put on's hat. Quoth he, There is one SIDROPHEL, Whom I have cudgell'dVery well. And now he brags t' have beaten me. Better and better still, quoth he. -- And vows to stick me to a wall Where-e'er he meets meBest of all. 'Tis true, the knave has taken's oath That I robb'd himWell done, in troth When h' has confess'd he stole my cloak, And pick'd my fob, and what he took; Which was the cause that made me bang him, And take my goods againMarry hang him. Now whether I should before-hand Swear he robb'd me?I understand. Or bring my action of conversion And trover for my goods?Ah, Whoreson! Or if 'tis better to indite, And bring him to his trial?Right. Prevent what he designs to do, And swear for th' State against him?True. Or whether he that is defendant In this case has the better end on't; Who, putting in a new cross-bill May traverse th' action?Better still. Then there's a Lady tooAye, marry That's easily prov'd accessary; A widow, who, by solemn vows Contracted to me for my spouse Combin'd with him to break her word, And has abetted all.Good Lord Suborn'd th' aforesaid SIDROPHEL To tamper with the Dev'l of Hell; Who put m' into a horrid fear Fear of my life.Make that appear. Made an assault with fiends and men Upon my body.Good agen, And kept me in a deadly fright, And false imprisonment, all night Mean while they robb'd me, and my horse, And stole my saddle.Worse and worse. And made me mount upon the bare ridge, T' avoid a wretcheder miscarriage. Sir, quoth the Lawyer, not to flatter ye You have as good and fair a battery As heart can wish, and need not shame The proudest man alive to claim. For if th' have us'd you as you say; Marry, quoth I, God give you joy. I wou'd it were my case, I'd give More than I'll say, or you'll believe. I would so trounce her, and her purse; I'd make her kneel for better or worse; For matrimony and hanging here Both go by destiny so clear, That you as sure may pick and choose, As Cross, I win; and, Pile, you lose; And, if I durst, I would advance As much in ready maintenance As upon any case I've known, But we that practise dare not own. The law severely contrabands Our taking bus'ness off men's hands; 'Tis common barratry, that bears Point-blank an action 'gainst our ears And crops them till there is not leather To stick a pin in left of either; For which some do the Summer-sault, And o'er the bar, like tumblers, vault, But you may swear, at any rate, Things not in nature, for the State; For in all courts of justice here A witness is not said to swear, But make oath; that is, in plain terms To forge whatever he affirms. (I thank you, quoth the Knight, for that, Because 'tis to my purpose pat) For Justice, though she's painted blind, Is to the weaker Side inclin'd Like Charity; else right and wrong Could never hold it out so long, And, like blind Fortune, with a slight Convey mens' interest and right From Stiles's pocket into Nokes's As easily as Hocus Pocus; Play fast and loose; make men obnoxious, And clear again, like Hiccius Doctius. Then whether you wou'd take her life, Or but recover her for your wife Or be content with what she has, And let all other matters pass, The bus'ness to the law's alone, The proof is all it looks upon: And you can want no witnesses To swear to any thing you please, That hardly get their mere expences By th' labour of their consciences; Or letting out to hire their ears To affidavit customers At inconsiderable values, To serve for jury-men or tallies, Although retain'd in th' hardest matters, Of trustees and administrators. For that, quoth he, let me alone; W' have store of such, and all our own; Bred up and tutor'd by our teachers, The ablest of conscience-stretchers. That's well, quoth he; but I should guess, By weighing all advantages Your surest way is first to pitch On BONGEY for a water-witch; And when y' have hang'd the conjurer, Y' have time enough to deal with her. In th' int'rim, spare for no trepans To draw her neck into the bans Ply her with love-letters and billets, And bait 'em well, for quirks and quillets With trains t' inveigle, and surprize, Her heedless answers and replies; And if she miss the mouse-trap lines, They'll serve for other by-designs; And make an artist understand To copy out her seal or hand; Or find void places in the paper To steal in something to intrap her Till, with her worldly goods and body, Spight of her heart, she has endow'd ye, Retain all sorts of witnesses, That ply i' th' Temple under trees; Or walk the round, with knights o' th' posts, About the cross-legg'd knights, their hosts; Or wait for customers between The pillars-rows in Lincoln's-Inn Where vouchers, forgers, common-bail And affidavit-men, ne'er fail T' expose to sale all sorts of oaths, According to their ears and cloaths, Their only necessary tools, Besides the Gospel and their souls; And when y' are furnish'd with all purveys, I shall be ready at your service. I would not give, quoth HUDIBRAS, A straw to understand a case, Without the admirable skill To wind and manage it at will; To vere, and tack, and steer a cause Against the weather-gage of laws; And ring the changes upon cases As plain as noses upon faces As you have well instructed me, For which you've earn'd (here 'tis) your fee. I long to practise your advice, And try the subtle artifice; To bait a letter, as you bid; As not long after, thus he did For having pump'd up all his wit, And humm'd upon it, thus he writ. AN HEROICAL EPISTLE OF HUDIBRAS TO HIS LADY. I who was once as great as CAESAR, Am now reduc'd to NEBUCHADNEZZAR; And from as fam'd a conqueror As ever took degree in war, Or did his exercise in battle By you turn'd out to grass with cattle: For since I am deny'd access To all my earthly happiness Am fallen from the paradise Of your good graces, and fair eyes; Lost to the world, and you, I'm sent To everlasting banishment; Where all the hopes I had t' have won Your heart, b'ing dash'd, will break my own. Yet if you were not so severe To pass your doom before you hear, You'd find, upon my just defence, How much y' have wrong'd my innocence. That once I made a vow to you, Which yet is unperformed, 'tis true: But not because it is unpaid, 'Tis violated, though delay'd; Or, if it were, it is no fau't, So heinous as you'd have it thought; To undergo the loss of ears Like vulgar hackney perjurers For there's a diff'rence in the case, Between the noble and the base, Who always are observ'd t' have done't Upon as different an account: The one for great and weighty cause, To salve in honour ugly flaws; For none are like to do it sooner Than those who are nicest of their honour: The other, for base gain and pay Forswear, and perjure by the day; And make th' exposing and retailing Their souls and consciences a calling. It is no scandal, nor aspersion, Upon a great and noble person To say he nat'rally abhorr'd Th' old-fashion'd trick, To keep his word; Though 'tis perfidiousness and shame In meaner men to do the same: For to be able to forget Is found more useful to the great, Than gout, or deafness, or bad eyes, To make 'em pass for wond'rous wise. But though the law on perjurers Inflicts the forfeiture of ears It is not just that does exempt The guilty, and punish th' innocent; To make the ears repair the wrong Committed by th' ungovern'd tongue; And when one member is forsworn Another to be cropt or torn. And if you shou'd, as you design, By course of law, recover mine, You're like, if you consider right, To gain but little honour by't. For he that for his lady's sake Lays down his life or limbs at stake, Does not so much deserve her favour, As he that pawns his soul to have her, This y' have acknowledg'd I have done Although you now disdain to own; But sentence what you rather ought T' esteem good service than a fau't. Besides, oaths are not bound to bear That literal sense the words infer But, by the practice of the age, Are to be judg'd how far th' engage; And, where the sense by custom's checkt, Are found void, and of none effect. For no man takes or keeps a vow But just as he sees others do; Nor are th' oblig'd to be so brittle, As not to yield and bow a little: For as best-temper'd blades are found, Before they break, to bend quite round So truest oaths are still most tough, And though they bow, are breaking proof. Then wherefore should they not b' allow'd In love a greater latitude? For as the law of arms approves All ways to conquest, so should love's; And not be ty'd to true or false, But make that justest that prevails For how can that which is above All empire, high and mighty love Submit its great prerogative To any other power alive? Shall love, that to no crown gives place, Become the subject of a case? The fundamental law of nature Be over-rul'd by those made after? Commit the censure of its cause To any but its own great laws? Love, that's the world's preservative, That keeps all souls of things alive; Controuls the mighty pow'r of fate, And gives mankind a longer date; The life of nature, that restores As fast as time and death devours; To whose free-gift the world does owe Not only earth, but heaven too; For love's the only trade that's driven, The interest of state in heav'n, Which nothing but the soul of man Is capable to entertain. For what can earth produce, but love To represent the joys above? Or who but lovers can converse, Like angels, by the eye-discourse? Address and compliment by vision; Make love and court by intuition? And burn in amorous flames as fierce As those celestial ministers? Then how can any thing offend, In order to so great an end? Or heav'n itself a sin resent, That for its own supply was meant? That merits, in a kind mistake, A pardon for th' offence's sake. Or if it did not, but the cause Were left to th' injury at laws, What tyranny can disapprove There should be equity in love; For laws that are inanimate, And feel no sense of love or hate That have no passion of their own, Nor pity to be wrought upon, Are only proper to inflict Revenge on criminals as strict But to have power to forgive Is empire and prerogative; And 'tis in crowns a nobler gem To grant a pardon than condemn. Then since so few do what they ought, 'Tis great t' indulge a well-meant fau't. For why should he who made address, All humble ways, without success, And met with nothing, in return, But insolence, affronts, and scorn, Not strive by wit to countermine And bravely carry his design? He who was us'd so unlike a soldier, Blown up with philters of love-powder? And after letting blood, and purging, Condemn'd to voluntary scourging; Alarm'd with many a horrid fright, And claw'd by goblins in the night; Insulted on, revil'd, and jeer'd, With rude invasion of his beard; And when your sex was foully scandal'd As foully by the rabble handled; Attack'd by despicable foes, And drub'd with mean and vulgar blows; And, after all, to be debarr'd So much as standing on his guard; When horses, being spurr'd and prick'd, Have leave to kick for being kick'd? Or why should you, whose mother-wits Are furnish'd with all perquisites, That with your breeding-teeth begin And nursing babies, that lie in, B' allow'd to put all tricks upon Our cully sex, and we use none? We, who have nothing but frail vows Against your stratagems t' oppose; Or oaths more feeble than your own, By which we are no less put down? You wound, like Parthians, while you fly, And kill with a retreating eye: Retire the more, the more we press To draw us into ambushes. As pirates all false colours wear T' intrap th' unwary mariner, So women, to surprise us, spread The borrow'd flags of white and red; Display 'em thicker on their cheeks Than their old grandmothers, the Picts; And raise more devils with their looks, Than conjurer's less subtle books; Lay trains of amorous intrigues In tow'rs, and curls, and perriwigs, With greater art and cunning rear'd, Than PHILIP NYE's thanksgiving beard, Prepost'rously t' entice, and gain Those to adore 'em they disdain; And only draw 'em in, to clog With idle names a catalogue. A lover is, the more he's brave, T' his mistress but the more a slave; And whatsoever she commands Becomes a favour from her hands; Which he's obliged t' obey, and must, Whether it be unjust or just. Then when he is compell'd by her T' adventures he would else forbear Who with his honour can withstand, Since force is greater than command? And when necessity's obey'd, Nothing can be unjust or bad And therefore when the mighty pow'rs Of love, our great ally and yours, Join'd forces not to be withstood By frail enamour'd flesh and blood, All I have done, unjust or ill, Was in obedience to your will; And all the blame that can be due, Falls to your cruelty and you. Nor are those scandals I confest, Against my will and interest, More than is daily done of course By all men, when they're under force; When some upon the rack confess What th' hangman and their prompters please; But are no sooner out of pain, Than they deny it all again. But when the Devil turns confessor, Truth is a crime he takes no pleasure To hear, or pardon, like the founder Of liars, whom they all claim under And therefore, when I told him none I think it was the wiser done. Nor am I without precedent, The first that on th' adventure went All mankind ever did of course, And daily dues the same, or worse. For what romance can show a lover, That had a lady to recover, And did not steer a nearer course, To fall a-board on his amours? And what at first was held a crime Has turn'd to honourable in time. To what a height did infant ROME, By ravishing of women, come When men upon their spouses seiz'd, And freely marry'd where they pleas'd They ne'er forswore themselves, nor ly'd. Nor, in the mind they were in, dy'd; Nor took the pains t' address and sue, Nor play'd the masquerade to woo; Disdain'd to stay for friends' consents; Nor juggled about settlements: Did need no license, nor no priest, Nor friends, nor kindred, to assist; Nor lawyers, to join land and money In th' holy state of matrimony Before they settled hands and hearts, Till alimony or death them parts: Nor wou'd endure to stay until Th' had got the very bride's good will; But took a wise and shorter course To win the ladies, downright force. And justly made 'em prisoners then, As they have often since, us men, With acting plays, and dancing jigs, The luckiest of all love's intrigues; And when they had them at their pleasure, Then talk'd of love and flames at leisure; For after matrimony's over, He that holds out but half a lover, Deserves for ev'ry minute more Than half a year of love before; For which the dames in contemplation Of that best way of application, Prov'd nobler wives than e'er was known, By suit or treaty to be won; And such as all posterity Cou'd never equal nor come nigh. For women first were made for men, Not men for them.It follows, then, That men have right to ev'ry one And they no freedom of their own And therefore men have pow'r to chuse, But they no charter to refuse. Hence 'tis apparent, that what course Soe'er we take to your amours Though by the indirectest way, 'Tis no injustice, nor foul play; And that you ought to take that course, As we take you, for better or worse; And gratefully submit to those Who you, before another, chose. For why should ev'ry savage beast Exceed his great lord's interest? Have freer pow'r than he in grace, And nature, o'er the creature has? Because the laws he since has made Have cut off all the pow'r he had; Retrench'd the absolute dominion That nature gave him over women; When all his pow'r will not extend One law of nature to suspend; And but to offer to repeal The smallest clause, is to rebel. This, if men rightly understood Their privilege, they wou'd make good; And not, like sots, permit their wives T' encroach on their prerogatives; For which sin they deserve to be Kept, as they are, in slavery: And this some precious Gifted Teachers Unrev'rently reputed leachers, And disobey'd in making love, Have vow'd to all the world to prove, And make ye suffer, as you ought, For that uncharitable fau't. But I forget myself, and rove Beyond th' instructions of my love. Forgive me (Fair) and only blame Th' extravagancy of my flame, Since 'tis too much at once to show Excess of love and temper too. All I have said that's bad and true, Was never meant to aim at you, Who have so sov'reign a controul O'er that poor slave of yours, my soul That, rather than to forfeit you, Has ventur'd loss of heaven too: Both with an equal pow'r possest, To render all that serve you blest: But none like him, who's destin'd either To have, or lose you, both together. And if you'll but this fault release (For so it must be, since you please) I'll pay down all that vow, and more, Which you commanded, and I swore And expiate upon my skin Th' arrears in full of all my sin. For 'tis but just that I should pay Th' accruing penance for delay, Which shall be done, until it move Your equal pity and your love. The Knight, perusing this Epistle, Believ'd h' had brought her to his whistle; And read it like a jocund lover, With great applause t' himself, twice over; Subscrib'd his name, but at a fit And humble distance to his wit; And dated it with wond'rous art, Giv'n from the bottom of his heart; Then seal'd it with his Coat of Love A smoaking faggotand above, Upon a scrollI burn, and weep; And near itFor her Ladyship; Of all her sex most excellent, These to her gentle hands present. Then gave it to his faithful Squire, With lessons how t' observe and eye her. She first consider'd which was better, To send it back, or burn the letter. But guessing that it might import Though nothing else, at least her sport, She open'd it, and read it out, With many a smile and leering flout: Resolv'd to answer it in kind, And thus perform'd what she design'd. THE LADY'S ANSWER TO THE KNIGHT. THAT you're a beast, and turn'd to grass, Is no strange news, nor ever was; At least to me, who once you know, Did from the pound replevin you, When both your sword and spurs were won In combat by an Amazon. That sword, that did (like Fate) determine Th' inevitable death of vermine, And never dealt its furious blows, But cut the throats of pigs and cows By TRULLA was, in single fight, Disarm'd and wrested from its knight; Your heels degraded of your spurs, And in the stocks close prisoners; Where still they'd lain, in base restraint If I, in pity of your complaint, Had not on honourable conditions, Releast 'em from the worst of prisons And what return that favour met You cannot (though you wou'd) forget; When, being free, you strove t' evade The oaths you had in prison made; Forswore yourself; and first deny'd it, But after own'd and justify'd it And when y' had falsely broke one vow Absolv'd yourself by breaking two. For while you sneakingly submit, And beg for pardon at our feet, Discourag'd by your guilty fears, To hope for quarter for your ears And doubting 'twas in vain to sue, You claim us boldly as your due; Declare that treachery and force, To deal with us, is th' only course; We have no title nor pretence To body, soul, or conscience; But ought to fall to that man's share That claims us for his proper ware. These are the motives which, t' induce Or fright us into love, you use. A pretty new way of gallanting, Between soliciting and ranting; Like sturdy beggars, that intreat For charity at once, and threat. But since you undertake to prove Your own propriety in love, As if we were but lawful prize In war between two enemies, Or forfeitures, which ev'ry lover, That wou'd but sue for, might recover It is not hard to understand The myst'ry of this bold demand, That cannot at our persons aim, But something capable of claim. 'Tis not those paultry counterfeit French stones, which in our eyes you set, But our right diamonds, that inspire And set your am'rous hearts on fire. Nor can those false St. Martin's beads, Which on our lips you lay for reds And make us wear, like Indian dames, Add fuel to your scorching flames; But those true rubies of the rock, Which in our cabinets we lock. 'Tis not those orient pearls our teeth That you are so transported with; But those we wear about our necks, Produce those amorous effects. Nor is't those threads of gold, our hair, The periwigs you make us wear But those bright guineas in our chests, That light the wild fire in your breasts. These love-tricks I've been vers'd in so, That all their sly intrigues I know, And can unriddle, by their tones Their mystick cabals and jargones; Can tell what passions, by their sounds, Pine for the beauties of my grounds; What raptures fond and amorous O' th' charms and graces of my house; What extasy and scorching flame, Burns for my money in my name; What from th' unnatural desire To beasts and cattle takes its fire; What tender sigh, and trickling tear Longs for a thousand pounds a year; And languishing transports are fond Of statute, mortgage, bill, and bond. These are th' attracts which most men fall Inamour'd, at first sight, withal To these th' address with serenades, And court with balls and masquerades; And yet, for all the yearning pain Y' have suffer'd for their loves in vain, I fear they'll prove so nice and coy To have, and t' hold and to enjoy That all your oaths and labour lost, They'll ne'er turn ladies of the post. This is not meant to disapprove Your judgment in your choice of love; Which is so wise, the greatest part Of mankind study 't as an art; For love shou'd, like a deodand, Still fall to th' owner of the land; And where there's substance for its ground Cannot but be more firm and sound Than that which has the slightest basis Of airy virtue, wit, and graces; Which is of such thin subtlety, It steals and creeps in at the eye And, as it can't endure to stay, Steals out again as nice a way. But love, that its extraction owns From solid gold and precious stones Must, like its shining parents, prove As solid and as glorious love. Hence 'tis you have no way t'express Our charms and graces but by these: For what are lips, and eyes, and teeth, Which beauty invades and conquers with But rubies, pearls, and diamonds, With which a philter-love commands? This is the way all parents prove, In managing their childrens' love; That force 'em t' intermarry and wed As if th' were bur'ing of the dead; Cast earth to earth, as in the grave, To join in wedlock all they have: And when the settlement's in force, Take all the rest for better or worse; For money has a power above The stars and fate to manage love; Whose arrows, learned poets hold, That never miss, are tipp'd with gold. And though some say, the parents' claims To make love in their childrens' names, Who many times at once provide The nurse, the husband, and the bride Feel darts and charms, attracts and flames, And woo and contract in their names; And as they christen, use to marry 'em, And, like their gossips, answer for 'em; Is not to give in matrimony, But sell and prostitute for money; 'Tis better than their own betrothing Who often do't for worse than nothing; And when th' are at their own dispose, With greater disadvantage choose. All this is right; but for the course You take to do't, by fraud or force 'Tis so ridiculous, as soon As told, 'tis never to be done; No more than setters can betray, That tell what tricks they are to play. Marriage, at best, is but a vow Which all men either break or bow: Then what will those forbear to do, Who perjure when they do but woo? Such as before-hand swear and lie For earnest to their treachery; And, rather than a crime confess, With greater strive to make it less; Like thieves, who, after sentence past, Maintain their innocence to the last; And when their crimes were made appear As plain as witnesses can swear, Yet, when the wretches come to die, Will take upon their death a lie, Nor are the virtues you confest T' your ghostly father, as you guest So slight as to be justify'd By being as shamefully deny'd, As if you thought your word would pass Point-blank on both sides of a case; Or credit were not to be lost B' a brave Knight-Errant of the Post, That eats perfidiously his word, And swears his ears through a two inch board: Can own the same thing, and disown, And perjure booty, Pro and Con: Can make the Gospel serve his turn, And help him out, to be forsworn; When 'tis laid hands upon, and kist, To be betray'd and sold like Christ. These are the virtues in whose name A right to all the world you claim, And boldly challenge a dominion, In grace and nature, o'er all women; Of whom no less will satisfy Than all the sex your tyranny Although you'll find it a hard province, With all your crafty frauds and covins, To govern such a num'rous crew, Who, one by one, now govern you: For if you all were SOLOMONS And wise and great as he was once, You'll find they're able to subdue (As they did him) and baffle you. And if you are impos'd upon 'Tis by your own temptation done That with your ignorance invite; And teach us how to use the slight. For when we find y' are still more taken With false attracts of our own making; Swear that's a rose, and that a stone Like sots, to us that laid it on, And what we did but slightly prime, Most ignorantly daub in rhime; You force us, in our own defences, To copy beams and influences; To lay perfections on the graces, And draw attracts upon our faces; And, in compliance to your wit, Your own false jewels counterfeit. For, by the practice of those arts We gain a greater share of hearts; And those deserve in reason most That greatest pains and study cost; For great perfections are, like heaven, Too rich a present to be given. Nor are these master-strokes of beauty To be perform'd without hard duty, Which, when they're nobly done and well, The simple natural excell. How fair and sweet the planted rose Beyond the wild in hedges grows! For without art the noblest seeds Of flow'rs degen'rate into weeds. How dull and rugged, e're 'tis ground And polish'd, looks a diamond! Though Paradise were e'er so fair, It was not kept so without care. The whole world, without art and dress, Would be but one great wilderness; And mankind but a savage herd For all that nature has conferr'd. This does but rough-hew, and design; Leaves art to polish and refine. Though women first were made for men, Yet men were made for them agen; For when (outwitted by his wife) Man first turn'd tenant but for life, If women had not interven'd, How soon had mankind had an end! And that it is in being yet To us alone you are in debt. And where's your liberty of choice, And our unnatural No Voice? Since all the privilege you boast, And falsly usurp'd, or vainly lost Is now our right; to whose creation You owe your happy restoration: And if we had not weighty cause To not appear, in making laws, We could, in spite of all your tricks And shallow, formal politicks, Force you our managements t' obey, As we to yours (in shew) give way. Hence 'tis that, while you vainly strive T' advance your high prerogative You basely, after all your braves, Submit, and own yourselves our slaves; And 'cause we do not make it known, Nor publickly our int'rest own, Like sots, suppose we have no shares In ord'ring you and your affairs; When all your empire and command You have from us at second hand As if a pilot, that appears To sit still only while he steers And does not make a noise and stir Like ev'ry common mariner, Knew nothing of the card, nor star, And did not guide the man of war; Nor we, because we don't appear In councils, do not govern there; While, like the mighty PRESTER JOHN, Whose person none dares look upon, But is preserv'd in close disguise, From being made cheap to vulgar eyes W' enjoy as large a pow'r unseen, To govern him, as he does men; And in the right of our Pope JOAN, Make Emp'rors at our feet fall down; Or JOAN DE PUCEL'S braver name Our right to arms and conduct claim; Who, though a Spinster, yet was able To serve FRANCE for a Grand Constable. We make and execute all laws; Can judge the judges and the cause; Prescribe all rules of right or wrong To th' long robe, and the longer tongue; 'Gainst which the world has no defence; But our more pow'rful eloquence. We manage things of greatest weight In all the world's affairs of state Are ministers of war and peace, That sway all nations how we please. We rule all churches and their flocks, Heretical and orthodox; And are the heavenly vehicles O' th' spirits in all conventicles. By us is all commerce and trade Improv'd, and manag'd, and decay'd; For nothing can go off so well Nor bears that price, as what we sell. We rule in ev'ry publique meeting, And make men do what we judge fitting; Are magistrates in all great towns, Where men do nothing but wear gowns. We make the man of war strike sail, And to our braver conduct veil, And, when h' has chac'd his enemies, Submit to us upon his knees. Is there an officer of state Untimely rais'd, or magistrate, That's haughty and imperious? He's but a journeyman to us. That as he gives us cause to do't, Can keep him in, or turn him out. We are your guardians, that increase Or waste your fortunes how we please; And, as you humour us, can deal In all your matters, ill or well. 'Tis we that can dispose alone Whether your heirs shall be your own, To whose integrity you must, In spight of all your caution, trust; And, 'less you fly beyond the seas, Can fit you with what heirs we please; And force you t' own 'em, though begotten By French Valets or Irish Footmen. Nor can the vigorousest course Prevail, unless to make us worse; Who still, the harsher we are us'd Are further off from b'ing reduc'd; And scorn t' abate, for any ills, The least punctilios of our wills. Force does but whet our wits t' apply Arts, born with us, for remedy; Which all your politicks, as yet, Have ne'er been able to defeat: For when y' have try'd all sorts of ways, What fools d' we make of you in plays! While all the favours we afford Are but to girt you with the sword, To fight our battles in our steads, And have your brains beat out o' your heads; Encounter, in despite of nature, And fight at once, with fire and water With pirates, rocks, and storms, and seas, Our pride and vanity t' appease; Kill one another, and cut throats, For our good graces, and best thoughts; To do your exercise for honour And have your brains beat out the sooner; Or crack'd, as learnedly, upon Things that are never to be known; And still appear the more industrious, The more your projects are prepost'rous; To square the circle of the arts, And run stark mad to shew your parts; Expound the oracle of laws, And turn them which way we see cause Be our solicitors and agents And stand for us in all engagements. And these are all the mighty pow'rs You vainly boast to cry down ours; And what in real value's wanting, Supply with vapouring and ranting; Because yourselves are terrify'd, And stoop to one another's pride, Believe we have as little wit To be out-hector'd, and submit; By your example, lose that right In treaties which we gain'd in fight; And, terrify'd into an awe, Pass on ourselves a Salique law: Or, as some nations use, give place, And truckle to your mighty race; Let men usurp th' unjust dominion, As if they were the better women. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HUDIBRAS: PART 1 by SAMUEL BUTLER (1612-1680) HUDIBRAS: PART 2 by SAMUEL BUTLER (1612-1680) THE PRESBYTERIAN WEDDING by ANONYMOUS CHRISTIANITY HOPPING by LAURA TOHE HYPOCRISY by SAMUEL BUTLER (1612-1680) MAGGOTS OF FLATTERY by SAMUEL BUTLER (1612-1680) ON A CLUB OF SOTS by SAMUEL BUTLER (1612-1680) ON LOYALTY IN THE CAVALIERS by SAMUEL BUTLER (1612-1680) SMATTERERS by SAMUEL BUTLER (1612-1680) |
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