HUDIBRAS BY SAMUEL BUTLER


Transcriber's Notes:

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

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

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

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

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



                            HUDIBRAS
                               IN
                           THREE PARTS

                           WRITTEN IN

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



TO THE READER.


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

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

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

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

Or, with Ovid,

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

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

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

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

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



THE AUTHOR'S LIFE.


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

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

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

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

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

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

From the great vulgar or the small.

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

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



PART I


CANTO I


THE ARGUMENT

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



Notes to Part  I, Canto I.


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

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

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

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

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

Are thus changed,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



PART I.


CANTO II.


THE ARGUMENT.

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



NOTES TO PART I. CANTO II.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



PART I.


CANTO III.


THE ARGUMENT.

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


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

For now the late faint-hearted rout,                           25
O'erthrown, and scatter'd round about,
Chas'd by the horror of their fear
From bloody fray of Knight and Bear,
(All but the dogs, who, in pursuit
Of the Knight's victory, stood to't,                           30
And most ignobly fought to get
The honour of his blood and sweat,)
Seeing the co