THE ALDINE EDITION

OF THE BRITISH

POETS

THE POEMS OF SAMUEL BUTLER

IN TWO VOLUMES

VOL II

THE POETICAL WORKS OF

SAMUEL BUTLER

VOLUME II

r

LONDON BELL AND DALDY YORK STREET

COYENT GAED]

..

.,...:•>

CONTENTS.

VOL. II

Page

UDIBRAS. Part III. Canto II. . . 1

Canto III. . . GG An Heroical Epistle of Hudibra? to his

jflj Lady 92

The Lady's Answer to the Knight 104

THE REMAINS OF BUTLER.

Preface 119

The Elephant in the Moon 123

The Elephant in the Moon. In loug verse . . . . 139

A Satire upon the Royal Society •. . 15G

Repartees between Cat and Puss at a Caterwauling . 160 To the Honourable Edward Howard, Esq. upon his

incomparable Poem of the British Princes ... 1G4 A Palinodie to the Honourable Edward Howard, Esq.

upon his incomparable Poem of the British Princes 1G6 A Panegyric upon Sir John Denham's Recovery from

his Madness 169

On Critics who judge of Modern Plays precisely by the

Rules of the Ancients 172

Prologue to the Queen of Arragon, acted before the

Duke of York, upon his Birthday 17;>

Epilogue to the same 177

On Philip Nye's Thanksgiving B«ard 177

Satire upon the Weakness and Misery of Man . . . 182

vi CONTENTS.

Page

Satire upoa the Licentious Age of Charles II. . • . 190

Satire upon Gaming 196

Satire- To a bad Poet 199

Satire upon our ridiculous Imitation of the French . . 203

Satire upon Drunkenness 207

Satire upon Marriage 211

Satire upon Plagiaries 215

Satire upon the Imperfection and Abuse of Human

Learning. Parti 221

Fragments of an intended Second Part of the fore going Satire 228

On a Hypocritical Nonconformist 239

On Modern Critics 247

To the Happy Memory of the most renowned Du-Val 252 A Ballad upon the Parliament which deliberated about

making Oliver Cromwell King . 259

A Ballad, in Two Parts, conjectured to be on Oliver

Cromwell. Part I 260

Part II 263

Miscellaneous Thoughts 266

Triplets upon Avarice . . 294

Description of Holland . 294

To his Mistress 295

To the same 296

Epigram on a Club of Sots 296

Hudibras's Elegy 296

Hudibras's Epitaph :J01

HUDIBRAS. PART III. CANTO II.*

THE ARGUMENT.

The saints engage in fierce contests About their carnal interests, To share their sacrilegious preys According to their rates of Grace : Their various frenzies to reform, When Cromwell left them in a storm ; Till, in th' effige of Rumps, the rabble Burn all their Grandees of the Cabal.

>HE learned write an insect breeze Is but a mongrel prince of bees, That falls before a storm on cows, And stings the founders of his house, From whose corrupted flesh that breed

Of vermin did at first proceed. 6

So, ere the storm of war broke out,

Religion spawn 'd a various rout

Of petulant capricious sects,

* This canto is entirely independent of the adventures of Hudibras and Ralpho ; neither of our heroes make their ap pearance : other characters are introduced. The Poet skips from the time wherein these adventures happened to Crom well's death, and from thence to the dissolution of the Rump Parliament.

VOL. II. B

2 HUDIBRAS.

The maggots of corrupted texts, 10

That first run all religion down,

And after ev'ry swarm its own :

For as the Persian Magi once

Upon their mothers got their sons,

That were incapable t' enjoy 15

That empire any other way ;

So Presbyter begot the other

Upon the Good Old Cause, his mother,

Then bore them like the devil's dam.

Whose son and husband are the same ; 20

And yet no nat'ral tie of blood,

Nor int'rest for the common good,

Could, when their profits interfer'd,

Get quarter for each other's beard :

For when they thriv'd they never fadg'd, 25

But only by the ears engag'd ;

Like dogs that snarl about a bone,

And play together when they've none ;

As by their truest characters,

Their constant actions, plainly' appears. so

Rebellion now began for lack

Of zeal and plunder to grow slack,

The Cause and Covenant to lessen,

And Providence to be out of season :

For now there was no more to purchase 35-

0' th' King's revenue, and the Church's,

But all divided, shar'd, and gone, -

That us'd to urge the Brethren on ;

Which forc'd the stubborn'st for the Cause

To cross the cudgels to the laws, 40

That, what by breaking them th' had gain'd,

By their support might be maintain'd ;

PART III. CANTO II. 3

Like thieves, that in a hemp plot lie,

Secur'd against the Hue-and-cry ;

For Presbyter and Independent .)->

Were now turn'd Plaintiff and Defendant ;

Laid out their apostolic functions

On carnal Orders and Injunctions ;

And all their precious Gifts and Graces

On Outlawries and Scire facias ; 50

At Michael's term had many trial,

Worse than the Dragon and St. Michael,

Where thousands fell, in shape of fees,

Into the bottomless abyss.

For when, like brethren, and like friends, 55

They came to share their dividends,

And ev'ry partner to possess

His church and state joint-purchases,

In which the ablest Saint, and best,

Was nam'd in trust by all the rest co

To pay their money, and, instead

Of ev'ry Brother, pass the deed,

He straight converted all his gifts

To pious frauds and holy shifts,

And settled all the other shares es

Upon his outward man and Js heirs ;

Held all they claim'd as forfeit lands

Deliver'd up into his hands, • And pass'd upon his conscience

By pre-entail of Providence ; 70

Impeach'd the rest for Reprobates

That had no titles to estates,

But by their spiritual attaints

Degraded from the right of Saints.

This b'ing reveal'd, they now begun 75

4 HUDIBRAS.

With law and conscience to fall on,

And laid about as hot and brain-sick

As th' utter barrister of Swanswick ;

Engag'd with money-bags, as bold

As men with sand-bags did of old, so

That brought the lawyers in more fees

Than all unsanctify'd Trustees :

Till he who had no more to show

I' th' case, receiv'd the overthrow ;

Or, both sides having had the worst, 35

They parted as they met at first.

Poor Presbyter was now reduc'd,

Secluded, and cashier'd, and chous'd ! ,.^,.;

Turn'd out, and excommunicate,

From all affairs of Church and State, 90

Reform'd t' a reformado Saint,

And glad to turn itinerant,

To stroll and teach from town to town,

And those he had taught up, teach down,

And make those uses serve agen 95

Against the New-enlighten'd men,

As fit as when at first they were

Reveal'd against the Cavalier ;

Damn Anabaptist and Fanatic,

As pat as Popish and Prelatic ; 100

And, with as little variation.

To serve for any sect i' th' nation.

The Good Old Cause, which some believe

To be the dev'l that tempted Eve

With knowledge, and does still invite 105

Tho world to mischief with New Light,

Had store of money in her purse

When he took her for bett'r or worse,

PART III. CANTO II. 5

But now was grown deform'd and poor,

And fit to be turn'd out of door. no

The Independents (whose first station Was in the rear of Reformation, A mongrel kind of Church-dragoons, That serv'd for horse and foot at once, And in the saddle of one steed us

The Saracen and Christian rid ; Were free of ev'ry sp'ritual order, To preach and fight, and pray and murder)

118 The officers and soldiers among the Independents got into pulpits, and preached and prayed as well as fought. Oliver Cromwell was famed for a preacher, and has a sermon* in print, entitled, 'Cromwell's Learned, Devout, and Con scientious Exercise, held at Sir Peter Temple's, in Lincoln's- Inn-Fields, upon Rom. xiii. 1.' in which are the following ilowers of rhetoric : "Dearly beloved brethren and sisters, it is true this text is a malignant one ; the wicked and ungodly have abused it very much ; but thanks be to God, it was to their own ruin." p. 1.

" But now that I spoke of kings, the question is, Whether by the ' higher powers ' are meant kings or commoners ? Truly, beloved, it is a very great question among those that are learned : for may not every one that can read observe, that Paul speaks in the plural number ' higher powers ?' Now, had he meant subjection to a king, he would have said, 'Let every soul be subject to the ''higher power," ' if he had meant one man ; but by this you see he meant more than one ; he bids us 'be subject to the "higher powers,"' that is, the Council of State, the House of Commons, and the Army." ib. p. 3.

When in the ' Humble Petition' there was inserted an ar ticle against public preachers being members of Parliament, Oliver Cromwell excepted against it expressly : "Because he (he said) was one, and divers officers of the army, by whom much good had been done — and therefore desired they would explain their article." — ' Heath's Chronicle,' p. 408.

Sir Roger L'Estrange observes (' Reflections upon Poggius's

* This, however, is now well known to be an imposture.

6 HITDIBRAS.

No sooner got the start, to lurch Both disciplines of War and Church, 120

And Providence enough to run The chief commanders of them down, But carry'd on the war against The common enemy o' th' Saints, And in a while prevail'd so far, 12-5

To win of them the game of war, And be at liberty once more T' attack themselves as th' had before. For now there was no foe in arms T' unite their factions with alarms, 130

But all reduc'd and overcome, Except their worst, themselves, at home, Wh' had compass'd all they pray'd and swore, And fought, and preach'd, and plunder d for, Subdu'd the Nation, Church, and State, ir,5

And all things but their laws and hate ; But when they came to treat and transact And share the spoil of all th' had ransack't,

Fable of the Husband, Wife, and Ghostly Father,' Part I. Fab. 357), upon the pretended saints of those times, " That they did not set one step in the whole tract of this iniquity, without seeking the Lord first, and going up to enquire of the Lord, according to the cant of those days ; which was no other than to make God the Author of sin, and to impute the blackest practices of hell to the inspiration of the Holy Ghost."

It was with this pretext of seeking the Lord in prayer, that Cromwell, Ireton, Harrison, and others of the regicides, cajoled General Fairfax, who was determined to rescue the king from execution, giving orders to have it speedily done : and, when they had notice that it was over, they persuaded the General that this was a full return of prayer ; and God having so manifested His pleasure, they ought to acquiesce in it.—-' Perenchief 's Life of King Charles I.'

PART III. CANTO II. 7

To botch up what th' had torn and rent,

Religion and the Government, uc

They met no sooner, but prepar'd

To pull down all the war had spar'd ;

Agreed in nothing but t' abolish,

Subvert, extirpate, and demolish :

For knaves and fools b'ing near of kin, 145

As Dutch boors are t' a sooterkin,

Both parties join'd to do their best

To damn the public interest,

And herded only in consults, »-

To put by one another's bolts ; loo

T' out-cant the Babylonian lab'rers,

At all their dialects of jabb'rers,

And tug at both ends of the saw,

To tear down government and law.

For as two cheats that play one game, jr.5

Are both defeated of their aim ;

So those who play a game of state,

And only cavil in debate^

Although there's nothing lost nor won,

The public bus'ness is undone, icn

Which still, the longer 'tis in doing,

Becomes the surer way to ruin.

This when the Royalists perceiv'd, (Who to their faith as firmly cleav'd, And own'd the right they had paid down 165

So dearly for, the Church and Crown) Th' united constanter, and sided The more, the more their foes divided : For though out-number'd, overthrown, And by the fate of war run down, 170

Their duty never was defeated,

HUDIBRAS.

Nor from their oaths and faith retreated ;

For loyalty is still the same,

Whether it win or lose the game ;

True as the dial to the sun, 175

Although it be not shin'd upon.

But when these Brethren in evil,

Their adversaries, and the devil,

Began once more to shew them play,

And hopes at least to have a day, iso

They rally'd in parades of woods,

And unfrequented solitudes ;

Conven'd at midnight in out-houses,

T' appoint new-rising rendezvouses,

And, with a pertinacy' unmatch'd, 155

For new recruits of danger watch'd.

No sooner was one blow diverted,

But up another party started,

And as if Nature too, in haste

To furnish our supplies as fast, i90

Before her time had turn'd destruction

T' a new and numerous production ;

No sooner those were overcome

But up rose others in their room,

That, like the Christian faith, increast m

The more, the more they were supprest ;

Whom neither chains nor transportation^

Proscription, sale, or confiscation,

Nor all the desperate events

Of former try'd experiments, 200

Nor wounds, could terrify, nor mangling,

To leave off Loyalty and dangling,

bv'tlT Th'brfve SPirit of ^yalty was not to be suppressed by the most barbarous and inhuman usage. There are se-

PAET HI. CANTO II. 0

Nor Death (with all his bones) affright

From vent'ring to maintain the right,

From staking life and fortune down 205

'Gainst all together, for the Crown ;

But kept the title of their cause

From forfeiture like claims in laws ;

And prov'd no prosp'rous usurpation

Can ever settle on the nation ; 210

Until, in spite of force and treason,

They put their loyalty in possession ;

And, by their constancy and faith,

Destroy'd the mighty men of Gath.

veral remarkable instances upon record ; as that of the gallant Marquis of Montrose, the loyal Mr. Gerrard, and Mr. Vowel, in 1654; of Mr. Penruddock, Grove, and others, who suf fered for their loyalty at Exeter, 1654-5; of Captain Rey nolds, who had been of the King's party, and, when he was going to be turned off the ladder, cried, God bless King Charles, ' Vive le Roi' ; of Dalgelly, one of Montrose's party, who being sentenced to be beheaded, and' being brought to the scaffold, ran and kissed it: and, without any speech or ceremony, laid down his head upon the block and was be headed ; of the brave Sir Robert Spotiswood ; of Mr. Court ney, and Mr. Portman, who were committed to the ToAver the beginning of February, 1657, for dispersing among the soldiers what were then called 'seditious' books and pamphlets.

Nor ought the loyalty of the six counties of North Wales to be passed over in silence, who never addressed or petitioned during the Usurpation ; nor the common soldier mentioned in the ' Oxford Diurnal,' first w«ek, p. 6. See more in the story of the ' Impertinent Sheriff,' L'Estrange's ' Fables,' Part II. Fab. 265. Mr. Butler, or Mr. Pryn, speaking of the gallant behaviour of the Loyalists, says," Other nations would have canonized for martyrs, and erected statues after their death, to the memory of some of our compatriots, whom ye have barbarously defaced and mangled, yet alive, for no other motive than undaunted zeal."

10 HUDIBRAS.

Toss'd in a furious hurricane, 215

Did Oliver give up his reign, And was believ'd, as well by Saints As moral men and miscreants, To founder in the Stygian ferry, Until he was retriev'd by Sterry, 220

Who, in a false erroneous dream, Mistook the New Jerusalem Profanely for the apocryphal

sis sie At Oliver's death was a most furious tempest, such as had not been known in the memory of man, or hardly ever recorded to have been in this nation. It is observed, in a tract entitled, ' No Fool to the old Fool,' L'Estrange's 'Apology,' p. 93, " That Oliver, after a long course of treason, murder, sacrilege, perjury, rapine, &c. finished his accursed life in agony and fury, and without any mark of true re pentance." Though most of our historians mention the hurricane at his death, yet few take notice of the storm in the northern counties, that day the House of Peers ordered the digging up his carcase, with other regicides. The author of the ' Parley between the Ghost of the late Protector and the King of Sweden in Hell,' 1660, p. 19, merrily observes, " That he was even so turbulent and seditious there, that he was chained, by way of punishment, in the general pissing place, next the court-door, with a strict charge that nobody that made water thereabouts should piss any-where but against his body."

220 The news" of Oliver's death being brought to those who M'ere met to pray for him, Mr. Peter Sterry stood up, and desired them not to be troubled ; " For (said he) this is good news, because, if he was of use to the people of God when he was amongst us, he will be much more so now, being ascended into heaven, at the right hand of Jesus Christ, there to in tercede for us, and to be mindful of us upon all occasions." Dr South makes mention of an Independent divine (Sermons, vol. i. serm. iii. p. 102) who, when Oliver was sick, of which sickness he died, declared, " That God revealed to him that he should recover, and live thirty years longer ; for that God had raised him up for a work which could not be done in a less time." But Oliver's death being published two days

PART III. CANTO II. 11

False Heaven at the end o' th' Hall ;

Whither it was decreed by Fate 225

His precious reliques to translate :

So Romulus was seen before

B' as orthodox a senator,

From whose divine illumination

He stole the Pagan revelation. 230

Next him his son and heir-apparent Succeeded, though a lame vicegerent ;

after, the said divine publickly in his prayers expostulated with God the defeat of His prophecy in these words : " Thou hast lied unto us ; yea, Thou hast lied unto us."

So familiar were those wretches with God Almighty, that Dr. Echard observes of one of them, " That he pretended to have got such an interest in Christ, and such an exact knowledge of affairs above, that he could tell the people that he had just before received an express from Jesus upon such a business, and that the ink was scarce dry upon the paper."

224 After the Restoration Oliver's body was dug up, and his head set up at the farther end of Westminster-hall, near which place there is a house of entertainment, which is com monly known by the name of ' Heaven.'

23i 232 Oliver's eldest son, Richard, was bv him, before his death, declared his successor; and, by order of the Privy Council, proclaimed Lord Protector, and received the com pliments of congratulation and condolence at the same time from the Lord Mayor and Court of Aldermen ; and addresses were presented to him from all parts of the nation, promising to stand by him with their lives and fortunes. He summoned a parliament to meet at Westminster, which recognised him Lord Protector; yet, notwithstanding, Fleetwoocl, Des- borough, and their partisans, managed affairs so, that he was obliged to resign.

What opinion the world had of him we learn from Lord Clarendon's account of his visit ' incog.' to the Prince of Conti at Pezena?, who received him civilly, as he did all strangers, and particularly the English ; and, after a fen- words (not knowing who he was), the Prince began to dis course of the nflairs of England, and asked many questions

12 HUDJBBAS.

Who first laid by the Parl'ament, The only crutch on which he leant, And then sunk underneath the state, 235

That rode him above horseman's weight. And now the Saints began their reign, For which th' had yearn'd so long in vain, And felt such bowel-hankerings To see an empire, all of kings, 210

Deliver'd from th' Egyptian awe Of justice, government, and law,

concerning the King, and whether all men were quiet, and submitted obediently to him? which the other answered ac cording to the truth. " Well," said the Prince, " Oliver, though he was a traitor and a villain, was a brave fellow, had great parts, great courage, and was worthy to command : but for that Richard, that coxcomb, coquin, poltroon, he was surely the basest fellow alive. What is become of that fool ? How is it possible he could be such a sot?" He answered, " That he was betrayed by those he most trusted, and had been most obliged to his father." So being weary of his visit, he quickly took his leave, and next morning left the town, out of fear that the Prince might know that he was the very fool and coxcomb he had mentioned so kindly ; and two days after the Prince did come to know who he was that he had treated so well. ' Clarendon's History of the Rebel lion, vol. iii. p. 519.' See it curious anecdote of Richard Cromwell in Dr. Maty's Memoirs of Lord Chesterfield.

237 A sneer upon the Committee of Safety, amongst whom was Sir Henry Vane, who (as Lord Clarendon'observes) " was a perfect enthusiast, and without doubt did believe himself in spired ; which so far corrupted his reason and understanding, that he did at the same time believe he was the person de puted to reign over the saints upon earth for a thousand years."

M1 24J Dr. James Young observes, " that two Jesuitical prognosticates, Lilly and Culpeper, were so confident, anno 1652, of the total subversion of the law and gospel ministry, that in their scurrilous prognostications they predicted the downfall of both; and, in 1654, they foretold, that the law should be pulled down to the ground, the Great Charter and

PART III. CANTO II. 13

And free t' erect what sp'ritual cantons

Should be reveal'd, or gospel Hans-towns,

To edify upon the ruins 213

Of John of Leyden's old outgoings,

Who, for a weather-cock hung up

Upon their mother-church's top,

Was made a type by Providence

Of all their revelations since, 250

And now fulfill'd by his successors,

Who equally mistook their measures :

For when they came to shape the model,

Not one could fit another's noddle;

But found their Light and Gifts more wide 2^

From fadging than th' unsanctify'd,

While every individual Brother

Strove hand to fist against another,

And still the maddest and most crackt

W^ere found the busiest to transact ; 2W

For though most hands dispatch apace

And make light work (the proverb says),

Yet many diff 'rent intellects

Are found t' have contrary effects ;

And many heads t' obstruct intrigues, 265

As slowest insects have most legs.

Some were for setting up a king, But all the rest for no such thing,

all our liberties destroyed, as not suiting with Englishmen in these blessed times ; that the crab-tree of the law should be pulled up by the roots, and grow no more, there being no reason now we should be governed by them.

267 268 jjarry Martyn, in his speech in the debate Whether a King or no King ? said, " That, if they must have a King, they had rather have had the last than any gentleman in England. He found no fault in his person but office."

14 HUDIBRAS.

Unless King Jesus : others tamper'd For Fleetwood, Desborough, and Lambert; 270 Some for the Rump ; and some, more crafty, For Agitators, and the Safety :

369 Alluding to the Fifth Monarchy men, who had formed a plot to dethrone Cromwell, and set up King Jesus.

269270 Fleetwood was a lieutenant-general; he married Ireton's widow, Oliver Cromwell's eldest daughter; was made Lord-lieutenant of Ireland by Cromwell, major-general of divers counties, one of Oliver's upper house ; his salary supposed to be .£6,600. a-year. Desborough, a yeoman of .£60. or .£70. per annum ; some say a ploughman. Bennet, speaking to Desborough, says, " When your Lordship was a plowman, and wore high sboon — Ha! how the Lord raiseth some men, and depresseth others!" Desborough married Cromwell's sister, cast away his spade, and took up a sword, and was made a colonel ; was instrumental in raising Crom well to the Protectorship, upon which he was made one of his council, a general at sea, and major-general of divers counties of the west ; and was one of Oliver's upper house. His annual income was £3,236. 13s. 4d.

270 VAK. 'Lambard.' Lambert was one of the Rump generals, and a principal opposer of General Monk in the restoration of King Charles II. The writer of the Narrative of the late Parliament so called, 1657, p. 9, observes, " That Major-general Lambert, as one of Oliver's council, had £ 1 ,000. per annum, which, with his other places, in all amounted to £6,512. 3s. 4cZ."

872 In 1647 the Army made choice of a set number of officers, which they called the General Council of Officers ; and the common soldiers made choice of three or four of each regiment, mostly corporals and Serjeants, who were called by the name of Agitators, and were to be a house of Commons to the Council of Officers. These drew up a Declaration, that they would not be disbanded till their arrears were paid, and a full provision made for liberty of conscience. Some of the positions of the Agitators here follow : " That all inns of court and chancery, all courts of justice now erected, as well civil as ecclesiastical, with the common, civil, canon, and statute laws, formerly in force, and all corporations, tenures, copyholds, rents, and services, with all titles and degrees of honour, nobility, and gentry, elevating one free

PART III. CANTO II. 15

Some for the Gospel, and massacres

Of sp'ritual Affidavit-makers,

That swore to any human regence 275

Oaths of supremacy and allegiance,

Yea though the ablest swearing Saint

That vouch'd the bulls o' th' Covenant :

Others for pulling down th' high places

Of Synods and Provincial Classes, 2so

That us'd to make such hostile inroads

Upon the Saints, like bloody Nimrods :

Some for fulfilling Prophecies,

And the extirpation of th' Excise ;

And some against th' Egyptian bondage 2S5

Of Holy-days, and paying Poundage :

Some for the cutting down of Groves,

And rectifying bakers' Loaves ;

And some for finding out expedients

subject above another, may be totally abolished, as clogs, snares, and grievances to a free-born people, and inconsistent with that universal parity and equal condition which ought to be among freemen, and opposite to the communion of saints.

" That all the lands and estates of deans, chapters, pre bends, universities, colleges, halls, free-schools, cities, cor porations, ministers' glebe-lands, and so much of the lands of the nobility, gentry, and rich citizens and yeomen, as ex ceeds the sum of three hundred pounds per annum, and all the revenues of the Crown belonging to the King or his children, be equally divided between the officers and soldiers and the army, to satisfy their arrears, and recompense their good services."

Committee of Safety, a set of men who took upon them the government upon displacing the Rump a second time. Their number amounted, to twenty-three, which, though filled up with men of all parties (Royalists excepted), yet was so craftily composed, that the balance was sufficiently secured to those of the army faction.

16 HUDIBRAS.

Against the slav'ry of Obedience : 290

Some were for Gospel-ministers,

And some for Red-coat Seculars,

As men most fit t' hold forth the Word,

And wield the one and th' other sword :

Some were for carrying on the Work 295

Against the Pope, and some the Turk ;

Some for engaging to suppress

The camisado of Surplices,

That Gifts and Dispensations hinder'd,

And turn'd to th' outward man the inward ; 300

More proper for the cloudy night

Of Popery than Gospel-light :

Others were for abolishing

That tool of matrimony, a Ring,

With which th' unsanctify'd bridegroom 305

Is marry'd only to a thumb,

(As wise as ringing of a pig,

That us'd to break up ground and dig),

The bride to nothing but her will,

That nulls the after-marriage still : 310

Some were for th' utter extirpation

Of linsey-woolsey in the nation ;

And some against all idolising

The Cross in shop-books, or Baptising :

Others, to make all things recant 315

The Christian or Surname of Saint,

And force all churches, streets, and towns,

The holy title to renounce :

308 VAR. ' That is to.' « That uses to.'

317 sis The Mayor of Colchester banished one of that town, for a malignant and a cavalier, in the year 1643, whose name was Parsons, and gave this learned reason for this exemplary piece of justice, that it was ail ominous name.

PART III. CANTO II. 17

Some 'gainst a third estate of Souls,

And bringing down the price of Coals : 320

Some for abolishing Black-pudding,

And eating nothing with the blood in ;

To abrogate them roots and branches,

While others were for eating Haunches

Of warriors, and, now and then, 325

323 Ttrig was the spirit of the times. There was a proposal to carry twenty Royalists in front of Sir Thomas Fairfax's army, to expose them to the fire of the enemy; and one Gourdon moved, "That the Lady Capel and her children, and the Lady Norwich might be sent to the General with the same directions, saying, their husbands would be careful of their safety; and when divers opposed so barbarous a motion, and alleged that Lady Capel was great with child, ' near her time, Gourdon pressed it the more eagerly, as if he had taken the General for a man-midwife. Nay, it was debated at a cquncil of war to massacre and put to the sword all the King's party : the question put was carried in the negative but by two votes." Their endeavour was " how to diminish the number of their opposites, the Royalists and Presbyterians, by a massacre ; for which purpose many dark lanthorns were provided last winter, 1649, which coming to the common rumour of the town, put them in danger of the infamy and hatred that would overwhelm them : so this was laid aside." A bill was brought in, 1656, for decimating the Royalists, but thrown out. And this spirit was but too much encouraged by their clergy. Mr. Caryl, in a * Thanksgiving Sermon' before the Commons, April 23, 1644, p. 46, says, " If Christ will set up His kingdom upon the carcases of the slain, it well becomes all elders to rejoice and give thanks. Cut them down with the sword of justice, root them out, and consume them as with fire, that no root may spring up again." Of this spirit was Mr. George Swathe, minister of Denham, in Suffolk, who, in a prayer, July 13, 1641, or 1642, has the following remarkable words : " Lord, if no composition will end the controversy between the King and the Parliament, but the King and his party will have blood, let them drink of their own cup ; let their blood be spilled like water ; let their blood be sacrificed to Thee, 0 God, for the sins of our nation."

YOL. II. C

18 IIUDIBRAS.

The Flesh of kings and mighty men ;

And some for breaking of their Bones

With rods of ir'n by secret ones ;

For thrashing mountains, and with spells

For hallowing carriers' packs and bells ; 330

Things that the legend never heard of,

But made the Wicked sore afeard of.

The quacks of government (who sate At th' unregarded helm of State, And understood this wild confusion 335

Of fatal madness and delusion Must, sooner than a prodigy, Portend destruction to be nigh) Consider'd timely how t' withdraw, And save their wind-pipes from the law ; 340

For one rencounter at the bar Was worse than all th' had 'scap'd in war ; And therefore met in consultation To cant and quack upon the nation ; Not for the sickly patient's sake, a-is

Nor what to give, but what to take ; To feel the pulses of their fees, More wise than fumbling arteries ; Prolong the snuff of life in pain, And from the grave recover — gain. 250

'Mong these there was a politician With more heads than a beast in vision, And more intrigues in ev'ry one Than all the whores of Babylon ; So politic as if one eye 355

Upon the other were a spy,

sl This was Sir Anthony Ashley Cooper, who complied •with every change in those times.

PART III. CANTO II. 19

That, to trepan the one to think

The other blind, both strove to blink ;

And in his dark pragmatic way

As busy as a child at play. sco

H' had seen three governments run down,

And had a hand in ev'ry one :

Was for 'em and against 'em all,

But barb'rous when they came to fall :

For, by trepanning th' old to ruin, 255

He made his int'rest with the new one ;

Play'd true and faithful, though against

His conscience, and was still advanc'd :

For by the witchcraft of rebellion

Transform'd t' a feeble State-camelion, 270

By giving aim from side to side,

He never fail'd to save his tide,

But got the start of ev'ry state,

And at a change ne'er came too late ;

Could turn his word, and oath, and faith, 375

As many ways as in a lathe ;'

By turning wriggle, like a screw,

Int' highest trust, and out for new :

For when h' had happily incurr'd,

Instead of hemp, to be preferr'd, sso

And pass'd upon a government,

He play'd his trick, and out he went :

But being out, and out of hopes

To mount his ladder (more) of ropes,

Would strive to raise himself upon ssa

The public ruin and his own ;

So little did he understand

The desp'rate feats he took in hand ;

For when h' had got himself a name

20 HtlDIBRAS.

For frauds and tricks, he spoil'd his game, sao

Had forc'd his neck into a noose,

To shew his play at fast and loose ;

And, when he chanc'd t' escape, mistook,

For art and subtlety, his luck.

So right his judgment was cut fit, MS

And made a tally to his wit,

And both together most profound

At deeds of darkness under ground ;

As th' earth is easiest undermin'd

By vermin impotent and blind. «o

By all these arts, and many more H' had practis'd long and much before, Our state-artificer foresaw Which way the world began to draw : For as old sinners have all points 405

()' th' compass in their bones and joints,

Can by their pangs and aches find

All turns and changes of the wind,

And, better than by Napier's bones,

Feel in their own the age of moons ; 4io

80 guilty sinners in a state

Can by their crimes prognosticate,

And in their consciences feel pain

Some days before a show'r of rain :

He therefore wisely cast about 415

All ways he could t' insure his throat,

And hither came t' observe and smoke

What courses other riskers took,

And to the utmost do his best

To save himself and hang the rest. 420

420 Sir A. Ashley Cooper was of the miller's mind, who was concerned in the Cornish rebellion, in the year 1558.

PART III. CANTO II. 21

To match this Saint there was another, As busy and perverse a Brother, An haberdasher of small wares In politics and state affairs ; More Jew than Rabbi Achitophel, 425

And better gifted to rebel ; For when h' had taught his tribe to 'spouse The Cause aloft upon one house, He scorn'd to set his own in order,

He, apprehending that Sir William Kingston, Provost-mar shal, and a rigorous man upon that occasion, would order him to be hanged upon the next tree, before he -went off told his servant that he expected some gentlemen would come a fishing to the mill, and if they enquired for the miller, he or dered him to say that he was the miller. Sir William came, according to expectation, and enquiring for the miller, the poor harmless servant said he was the mil'er : upon which the Provost ordered his servants to seize him, and hang him upon the next tree ; which terrified the poor fellow, and made him cry out I am not the miller, but the miller's man. The Provost told him, that he would take him at his word : " If," says he, " thou art the miller, thou art a busy knave and rebel ; and if thou art the miller's man, thou art a false lying knave, and canst not do thy master more service than to hang for him :" and, without more ceremony, he was exe cuted.

421 This character exactly suits John Lilburn, and no other, especially the 437, 438, 439, and 440th lines : for it was said of him, when living, by Judge Jenkins, " That if the world was emptied of all but himself, Lilburn would quarrel with John, and John with Lilburn :" which part of his character gave occasion for the following lines at his death :

Is John departed, and is Lilburn gone? Farewell to both, to Lilburn and to John. Yet, being dead, take this advice from me, Let them not both in one grave buried be : Lay John here, and Lilburn thereabout, For if they both should meet they would fall out.

22 HUDIBRAS.

But try'd another, and went further ; 430

So sullenly addicted still

To 's only principle, his will,

That whatsoe'er it chanc'd to prove,

Nor force of argument could move,

Nor law, nor cavalcade of Ho'burn, 435

Could render half a grain less stubborn ;

For he at any time would hang

For th' opportunity t' harangue ;

And rather on a gibbet dangle

Than miss his dear delight, to wrangle; -HO

In which his parts were so accomplisht,

That, right or wrong, he ne'er was nonplus t ;

But still his tongue ran on, the less

Of weight it bore, with greater ease,

And with its everlasting clack 445

Set all men's ears upon the rack.

No sooner could a hint appear,

But up he started to pickeer,

And made the stoutest yield to mercy,

When he engag'd in controversy ; 450

Not by the force of carnal reason,

But indefatigable teasing ;

With vollies of eternal babble,

And clamour more unanswerable.

For though his topics, frail and weak, 4or.

Could ne'er amount above a freak,

He still maintain'd them, like his faults,

Against the desp'ratest assaults,

And back'd their feeble want of sense

With greater heat and confidence ; 4-30

As bones of Hectors, when they differ,

The more they 're cudgel'd grow the stiffer,

PART III. CANTO IT. 23

Yet when his profit moderated,

The fury of his heat abated ;

For nothing but his interest 465

Could lay his devil of contest :

It was his choice, or chance, or curse,

T espouse the Cause for better or worse,

And with his worldly goods and wit,

And soul and body, worshipp'd it : 470

But when he found the sullen trapes

Possess'd with th' devil, worms, and claps,

The Trojan mare, in foal with Greeks,

Not half so full of jadish tricks,

Though squeamish in her outward woman, 475

As loose and rampant as Dol Common,

He still resolved, to mend the matter,

T' adhere and cleave the obstinater ;

And still, the skittisher and looser

Her freaks appear'd, to sit the closer : 430

For fools are stubborn in their way,

As coins are harden'd by th' allay ;

And obstinacy 's ne'er so stiff

As when 'tis in a wrong belief.

These two, with others, being met, 435

And close in consultation set, After a discontented pause, And not without sufficient cause, The orator we nam'd of late, Less troubled with the pangs of state 490

Than with his own impatience To give himself first audience,

485486 This cabal waa neld at Whitehall, at the very time that General Monk was dining with the city of London.

24 HUDIBRAS.

After he had a while look'd wise, At last broke silence and the ice.

Quoth he, There 's nothing makes me doubt I<JG Our last Outgoings brought about More than to see the characters Of real jealousies and fears, Not feign'd, as once, but sadly horrid, Scor'd upon ev'ry Member's forehead ; coo

Who, 'cause the clouds are drawn together, And threaten sudden change of weather, Feel pangs and aches of state-turns, And revolutions in their corns ; And, since our Workings-out are crost, 505

Throw up the Cause before 'tis lost. Was it to run away we meant When, taking of the Covenant, The lamest cripples of the Brothers Took oaths to run before all others, 510

But, in their own sense, only swore To strive to run away before, And now would prove that words and oath Engage us to renounce them both ? 'Tis true the Cause is in the lurch 515

Between a right and mongrel church, The Presbyter and Independent, That stickle which shall make an end on't, As 'twas made out to us the last Expedient — (I mean Marg'ret's fast) — 520

When Providence had been suborn'd

521 Alluding to the impudence of those pretended Saints, who frequently directed God Almighty what answers He should return to their prayers. Mr. Simeon Ash was called 4 the God-challenger.'

PART III. CANTO II. 25

What answer was to be return cl :

Else why should tumults fright us now

We have so many times gone through,

And understand as well to tame 525

As, when they serve our turns, t' inflame ?

Have prov'd how inconsiderable

Are all engagements of the rabble,

Whose frenzies must be reconcil'd

\Vith drums and rattles, like a child, iso

But never prov'd so prosperous

As when they were led on by us ;

For all our scouring of religion

Began with tumults and sedition ;

When hurricanes of fierce commotion 535

Became strong motives to devotion ;

(As carnal seamen, in a storm,

Turn pious converts and reform) ;

When rusty weapons, with chalk'd edges,

Maintain'd our feeble privileges, 540

And brown-bills, levy'd in the City,

Made bills to pass the Grand Committee :

When Zeal, with aged clubs and gleaves,

Gave chace to rochets and white sleeves,

And made the Church, and State, and Laws, MS

Submit t' old iron and the Cause.

And as we thriv'd by tumults then,

So might we better now agen,

If we knew how, as then we did,

To use them rightly in our need : £f.o

Tumults by which the mutinous

Betray themselves instead of us ;

The hollow-hearted, disaffected,

And close malignant; are detected;

26 HUDIBRAS.

Who lay their lives and fortunes down cr,3

For pledges to secure our own ;

And freely sacrifice their ears

T appease our jealousies and fears :

And yet for all these providences

W' are offer'd, if we have our senses, 560

We idly sit, like stupid blockheads,

Our hands committed to our pockets,

And nothing but our tongues at large

To get the wretches a discharge :

Like men condemn'd to thunderbolts, soo

Who, ere the blow, become mere dolts ;

Or fools besotted with their crimes,

That know not how to shift betimes,

That neither have the hearts to stay,

Nor wit enough to run away ; ?70

Who, if we could resolve on either,

Might stand or fall at least together ;

No mean nor trivial solaces

To partners in extreme distress,

Who use to lessen their despairs 575

By parting them int' equal shares ;

As if the more there were to bear

They felt the weight the easier,

And ev*ry one the gentler hung

The more he took his turn among. 580

But 'tis not come to that as yet,

If we had courage left, or wit,

Who, when our fate can be no worse,

Are fitted for the bravest course,

Have time to rally, and prepare sss

Our last and best defence, despair :

Despair, by which the gallant'st feats

PART III. CANTO II. 27

Have been achiev'd in greatest straits,

And horrid'st dangers safely waiv'd,

By being courageously outbrav'd ; 590

As wounds by wider wounds are heal'd,

And poisons by themselves expelTd :

And so they might be now agen,

If we were, what we should be, men ;

And not so dully desperate, sw

To side against ourselves with Fate :

As criminals condemn'd to suffer

Are blinded first, and then turn'd over.

This comes of breaking Covenants,

And setting up exauns of Saints, eco

That fine, like aldermen, for grace,

To be excus'd the efficace :

For sp'ritual men are too transcendent,

That mount their banks for independent,

To hang, like Mah'met, in the air, 605

Or St. Ignatius at his prayer,

By pure geometry, and hate

Dependence upon church or state :

Disdain the pedantry o' th' latter,

And since obedience is better eio

(The Scripture says) than sacrifice,

Presume the less on 't will suffice ;

And scorn to have the moderat'st stints

Prescrib'd their peremptory hints,

Or any opinion, true or false, 615

Declar'd as such, in Doctrinals ;

But left at large to make their best on,

Without b'ing call'd t' account or question ;

600 Exauns should be written ' exemts,'or ' exempts,' which is a French word, pronounced ' exauns.' *

28 HUDIBRAS.

Interpret all the spleen reveals,

As Whittington explain'd the bells : oto

And bid themselves turn back agen

Lord May'rs of New Jerusalem ;

But look so big and overgrown,

They scorn their edifiers to own,

Who taught them all their sprinkling lessons, 625

Their tones, and sanctified expressions ;

Bestow 'd their Gifts upon a Saint,

Like charity on those that want ;

And learn'd th' apocryphal bigots

T' inspire themselves with short-hand notes, eso

For which they scorn and hate them worse

Than dogs and cats do sow-gelders :

For who first bred them up to pray,

And teach the House of Commons' way ?

Where had they all their gifted phrases, 6:;5

But from our Calamys and Cases ?

Without whose sprinkleing and sowing,

Who e'er had heard of Nye or Owen ?

Their Dispensations had been stifled,

But for our Adoniram Byfield ; 610

And had they not begun the war,

Th' had ne'er been sainted as they are :

For Saints in peace degenerate,

And dwindle down to reprobate ;

636 Calamy and Case were chief men among the Presby terians, as Owen and Nye were amongst the Independents.

'40 'Adoniram Byfield.' He was a broken apothecary, a zealous Covenanter, one of the scribes to the Assembly of Divines : and, no doubt, for his great zeal and painstaking in his office, he had the profit of printing the ' Directory,' the copy whereof was sold for £400, though, when printed, the price was but three-cence.

PART III. CA^+TO II. 2$

Their zeal corrupts, like standing water, ew

In th' intervals of war and slaughter ;

Abates the sharpness of its edge,

Without the pow'r of sacrilege :

And though they 've tricks to cast their sins,

As easy as serpents do their skins, GJO

That in a while grow out agen,

In peace they turn mere carnal men,

And from the most refin'd of Saints

As nat'rally grow miscreants

As barnacles turn Soland geese 655

In th' islands of the Orcades.

Their Dispensation's but a ticket

For their conforming to the Wicked,

With whom their greatest difference

Lies more in words and show, than sense : 630

For as the Pope, that keeps the gate

Of heaven, wears three crowns of state ;

So he that keeps the gate of hell,

Proud Cerb'rus, wears three heads as well ;

And, if the world has any troth, cos

Some have been canoniz'd in both.

But that which does them greatest harm,

Their sp'ritual gizzards are too warm,

Which puts the overheated sots

In fever still, like other goats ; C73

For though the whore bends heretics

With flames of fire, like crooked sticks,

Our Schismatics so vastly differ,

648 It is an observation made by many writers upon the Assembly of Divines, that in their annotations upon the Bible they cautiously avoid speaking upon the subject of sacrilege.

30 HUDIBRAS.

The hotter th' are they grow the stiffer ;

Still setting off their sp'ritual goods 670

With fierce and pertinacious feuds :

Fer Zeal 's a dreadful termagant,

That teaches Saints to tear and rant,

And Independents to profess

The doctrine of Dependences ; 630

Turns meek, and secret, sneaking ones,

To Raw-heads fierce and Bloody-bones ;

And, not content with endless quarrels

Against the wicked and their morals,

The Gibellines, for want of Guelfs, ess

Divert their rage upon themselves.

For now the war is not between

The Brethren and the Men of Sin,

But Saint and Saint to spill the blood

Of one another's Brotherhood, coo

Where neither side can lay pretence

To liberty of conscience,

Or zealous suff'ring for the Cause,

To gain one groat's worth of applause ;

For, though endur'd with resolution, 095

'Twill ne'er amount to persecution.

Shall precious Saints, and Secret ones,

Break one another's outward bones,

And eat the flesh of Bretheren,

Instead of kings and mighty men ? 700

When fiends agree among themselves,

Shall they be found the greater elves ?

When Bel 's at union with the Dragon,

And Baal-Peor friends with Dagon ;

When savage bears agree with bears, 705

Shall secret ones lug Saints by th' ears,

PART III. CANTO II. 31

And not atone their fatal wrath,

When common danger threatens both ?

Shall mastiffs, by the collars pull'd,

Engag'd with bulls, let go their hold ? 710

And Saints, whose necks are pawn'd at stake,

No notice of the danger take ?

But though no pow'r of heav'n or hell

Can pacify fanatic zeal,

Who would not guess there might be hopes 715

The fear of gallowses and ropes,

Before their eyes, might reconcile

Their animosities a while,

At least until th' had a clear stage,

And equal freedom to engage, 720

Without the danger of surprise

By both our common enemies ?

This none but we alone could doubt Who understand their workings-out, And know 'em, both in soul and conscience, 725 Giv'n up t' as reprobate a nonsense As sp'ritual outlaws, whom the pow'r Of miracle can ne'er restore. We whom at first they set up under In revelation only of plunder, 730

Who since have had so many trials Of their incroaching self-denials, That rook'd upon us with design To out-reform and undermine ; Took all our interests and commands, 735

Perfidiously, out of our hands ; Involv'd us in the guilt of blood,' Without the motive-gains allow'd, And made us serve as ministerial,

32 UUD1BRAS.

Like younger sons of Father Belial : 7io

And yet, for all th' inhuman wrong

Th' had done us and the Cause so long,

We never fail'd to carry on

The Work still, as we had begun ;

But true and faithfully obey'd, 745

And neither preach'd them hurt, nor pray'd ;

Nor troubled them to crop our ears,

Nor hang us like the Cavaliers ;

Nor put them to the charge of jails,

To find us pill'ries and carts'-tails, 750

Or hangman's wages, which the state

Was forc'd (before them) to be at ;

That cut, like tallies, to the stumps

Our ears, for keeping true accompts,

And burnt our vessels, like a new 755

Seal'd peck or bushel, for b'ing true ;

But hand in hand, like faithful Brothers,

Held for the Cause against all others,

Disdaining equally to yield

One syllable of what we held. 7eo

And though we differ'd now and then

'Bout outward things, and outward men,

Our inward men, and constant frame

Of spirit, still were near the same ;

And, till they first began to cant, 7(5-3

And sprinkle down the Covenant,

We ne'er had call in any place,

Nor dream'd of teaching down Free Grace ;

But join'd our Gifts perpetually

Against the common enemy, 7 TO

Although 'twas our, and their opinion,

Each other's church was but a Rimmon :

PART III, CANTO II. 33

And yet for all this Gospel-union,

And outward show of Church-communion,

They'd ne'er admit us to our shares 775

Of ruling Church or State affairs,

Nor give us leave t' absolve or sentence

T' our own conditions of repentance,

But shar'd our dividend o' th' Crown

We had so painfully preach'd down, ?so

And forc'd us, though against the grain,

T' have calls to teach it up again ;

For 'twas but justice to restore

The wrongs we had receiv'd before ;

And, when 'twas held forth in our way, 735

W had been ungrateful not to pay ;

Who, for the right we've done the nation,

Have earn'd our temporal salvation ;

And put our vessels in a way

Once more to come again in play : 790

For if the turning of us out

Has brought this providence about,

And that our only suffering

Is able to bring in the King,

What would our actions not have done, 795

Had we been suffer'd to go on ?

And therefore may pretend t' a share,

At least, in carrying on th' affair :

But whether that be so or not,

W' have done enough to have it thought, soo

And that 's as good as if w' had done 't,

And easier pass'd upon account :

For if it be but half deny'd,

'Tis half as good as justify'd,

The world is nat'rally averse sos

TOL. II. D

34 HUDIBRAS.

To all the truth it sees or hears,

But swallows nonsense, and a lie,

With greediness and gluttony ;

And though it have the pique, and long,

'Tis still for something in the wrong ; sio

As women long, when they're with child,

For things extravagant and wild ;

For meats ridiculous and fulsome,

But seldom anything that 's wholesome ;

And, like the world, men's jobbernoles sis

Turn round upon their ears, the poles,

And what they 're confidently told,

By no sense else can be controFd.

And this, perhaps, may prove the means Once more to hedge in Providence. 820

For as relapses make diseases More desp'rate than their first accesses, If we but get again in pow'r, Our work is easier than before, And we more ready and expert 825

F th' mystery, to do our part ; We, who did rather undertake The first war to create, than make ; And, when of nothing 'twas begun, Rais'd funds, as strange, to carry 't on ; 830

Trepann'd the state, and fac'd it down, With plots and projects of our own ; And if we did such feats at first, What can we, now w' are better verst ? Who have a freer latitude, 885

Than sinners give themselves, alloVd ; And therefore likeliest to bring in, On fairest terms, our Discipline ;

PART III. CANTO II. 35

To which it was reveal'd long since

We were ordain'd by Providence, 840

When three Saints' ears, our predecessors,

The Cause's primitive confessors,

B'ing crucify'd, the nation stood

In just so many years of blood,

That, multiplied by six, exprest 845

The perfect number of the Beast,

And prov'd that we must be the men,

To bring this Work about agen ;

And those who laid the first foundation,

Complete the thorough Reformation : 850

For who have gifts to carry on

So great a work, but we alone ?

What Churches have such able pastors,

And precious, powerful, preaching Masters?

Possess'd with absolute dominions, 855

O'er Brethren's purses and opinions ?

And trusted with the double keys

Of heaven, and their warehouses ;

Who, when the Cause is in distress,

Can furnish out what sums they please, seo

That brooding lie in bankers' hands,

To be dispos'd at their commands ;

And daily increase and multiply,

With Doctrine, Use, and Usury :

Can fetch in parties (as, in war, 865

All other heads of cattle are)

From th' enemy of all religions, '

As well as high and low conditions,

841 Burton, Pryn, and Bastwick, three notorious ring leaders of the factions, just at the beginning of the late horrid Rebellion.

36 EUDIBRAS.

And share them, from blue ribands, down

To all blue aprons in the Town : 870

From ladies hurried in caleshes,

With cornets at their footmen's breeches,

To bawds as fat as Mother Nab,

All guts and belly, like a crab.

Our party 's great, and better ty'd 875

With oaths and trade, than any side ;

Has one considerable improvement

To double fortify the Cov'nant ;

I mean our Covenant to purchase

Delinquents' titles, and the Church's, sso

That pass in sale, from hand to hand,

Among ourselves, for current land,

And rise or fall, like Indian actions,

According to the rate of factions ;

Our best reserve for Reformation, 885

When new Outgoings give occasion ;

That keeps the loins of Brethren girt,

The Covenant (their creed) t' assert ;

And, when they 've pack'd a Parl'ament,

Will once more try th' expedient : SQO

Who can already muster friends

To serve for members to our ends ;

That represent no part o' th' nation,

But Fisher's-folly congregation ;

Are only tools to our intrigues, 895

And sit like geese to hatch our eggs ;

Who, by their precedents of wit,

T' outfast, outloiter, and outsit,

Can order matters underhand,

To put all bus'ness to a stand ; 900

Lay public bills aside for private,

PART III. CANTO II. 37

And make 'em one another drive out ;

Divert the great and necessary,

With trifles to contest and vary :

And make the nation represent, 905

And serve for us in Parl'ament ;

Cut out more work than can be done

In Plato's year, but finish none,

Unless it be the bulls of Lenthal,

That always pass'd for fundamental ; 910

Can set up grandee against grandee,

To squander time away, and bandy ;

Make Lords and Commoners lay sieges

To one another's privileges ;

And, rather than compound the quarrel, 9is

Engage, to th' inevitable peril

Of both their ruins, th' only scope

And consolation of our hope ;

Who, though we do not play the game,

Assist as much by giving aim ; 920

Can introduce our ancient arts,

For heads of factions, t' act their parts ;

Know what a leading voice is worth,

A seconding, a third, or fourth :

How much a easting voice comes to, 925

That turns up trump of 'Aye' or 'No;'

And, by adjusting all at th' end,

909 Mr. Lenthal was Speaker to that House of Commons which began the Rebellion, murdered the King, becoming then but the Rump, or fag-end of a House, was turned out by Oliver Cromwell ; restored after Richard was outed, and at last dissolved themselves at General Monk's command : and as his name was set to the ordinances of this House, these ordinances are here called the ' Bulls of Lenthal,' in allusion to the Pope's bulls, which are humorously described by the author of 'A Tale of a Tub.'

38 HUDIBRAS.

Share ev'ry one his dividend.

An art that so much study cost,

And now 's in danger to be lost, 930

Unless our ancient virtuosis,

That found it out, get into th' Houses.

These are the courses that we took

To carry things by hook or crook,

And practis'd down from forty-four, 935

Until they turn'd us out of door,

Besides, the herds of Boutefeus

We set on work without the House,

When ev'ry knight and citizen

Kept legislative journeymen, 940

To bring them in intelligence

From all points of the rabble's sense,

And fill the lobbies of both Houses

With politic important buzzes ;

Set up committees of cabals, ?4o

To pack designs without the walls ;

Examine, and draw up all news,

And fit it to our present use ;

Agree upon the plot o' th' farce,

And every one his part rehearse ; 950

Make Q's of answers, to waylay

What th' other party 's like to say ;

What repartees and smart reflections,

Shall be return'd to all objections ;

And who shall break the master jest, 95.3

And what, and how, upon the rest :

934 Judge Crook and Hutton were the two judges who dissented from their ten brethren in the case of ship-money, when it was argued in the Exchequer ; which occasioned the wags to say, that the King carried it by ' Hook,' but not bv 'Crook.'

PART III. CANTO II. 39

Help pamphlets out, with safe editions,

Of proper slanders and seditions,

And treason for a token send,

By letter, to a country friend ; 960

Disperse lampoons, the only wit

That men, like burglary, commit,

With falser than a padder's face,

That all its owner does betrays,

Who therefore dares not trust it, when 965

He 's in his calling to be seen ;

Disperse the dung on barren earth,

To bring new weeds of discord forth ;

Be sure to keep up congregations,

In spite of laws and proclamations : 970

For charlatans can do no good,

Until they 're mounted in a crowd :

And when they 're punish'd, all the hurt

Is but to fare the better for 't ;

As long as confessors are sure 97 j

Of double pay for all th' endure,

And what they earn in persecution,

Are paid t' a groat in contribution :

Whence some tub-holders-forth have made

In powd'ring-tubs their richest trade ; 980

And, while they kept their shops in prison,

Have found their prices strangely risen.

Disdain to own the least regret

For all the Christian blood w' have let ;

Twill save our credit, and maintain oso

Our title to do so again ;

That needs not cost one dram of sense,

But pertinacious impudence.

Our constancy t' our principles,

40 HUDIBRAS.

In time, will wear out all things else ; 990

Like marble statues, rubb'd in pieces

With gallantry of pilgrims' kisses ;

While those who turn and wind their oaths,

Have swell'd and sunk like other froths ;

Prevail'd a while, but, 'twas not long 995

Before from world to world they swung ;

As they had turn'd from side to side,

And as the changelings liv'd they died.

This said, th' impatient states-monger Could now contain himself no longer, 1000

Who had not spar'd to shew his piques Against th' haranguer's politics, With smart remarks of leering faces, And annotations of grimaces. After h' had administer'd a dose 1005

Of snuff mundungus to his nose, And powder'd th' inside of his skull, Instead of th' outward jobbernol, He shook it with a scornful look On th' adversary, and thus he spoke : 1010

In dressing a calf's head, although The tongue and brains together go, Both keep so great a distance here, 'Tis strange if ever they come near ; For who did ever play his gambols 1015

With such insufferable rambles,

995 996 Dr gouth remaps upon the Regicides, "That so sure did they make of heaven, and so fully reckoned them selves in the high road thither, that they never so much as thought that their Saintships should take Tyburn in the way."

1004 VAR. 'Grimashes.'

1007 yAR> 'Inside of his soul.'

PART III. CANTO II. 41

To make the bringing in the King

And keeping of him out one thing ?

Which none could do, but those that swore

T as point blank nonsense heretofore ; 1020

That to defend was to invade,

And to assassinate to aid :

Unless, because you drove him out

(And that was never made a doubt),

No pow'r is able to restore 1025

And bring him in, but on your score ;

A sp'ritual doctrine, that conduces

Most properly to all your uses.

'Tis true a scorpion's oil is said

To cure- the wounds the vermin made ; 1030

And weapons dress'd with salves restore

And heal the hurts they gave before :

But whether Presbyterians have

So much good nature as the salve,

Or virtue in them as the vermin, 1035

Those who have try'd them can determine.

Indeed, 'tis pity you should miss

Th' arrears of all your services,

And, for th' eternal obligation

Y' have laid upon th' ungrateful nation, 1040

Be us'd so unconscionably hard,

As not to find a just reward

For letting rapine loose, and murther,

To rage just so far, but no further,

And setting all the land on fire, 1045

To burn t' a scantling, but no higher ;

For vent'ring to assassinate

And cut the throats of Church and State,

And not be allow'd the fittest men

42 HUDIBRAS.

To take the charge of both agen : 1050

Especially that have the grace

Of self-denying gifted face ;

Who, when your projects have miscarry'd,

Can lay them, with undaunted forehead,

On those you painfully trepann'd, 1050

And sprinkled in at second hand ;

As we have been, to share the guilt

Of Christian blood, devoutly spilt :

For so our ignorance was flamra'd,

To damn ourselves, t' avoid being damn'd ; 1060

Till finding your old foe, the hangman,

Was like to lurch you at Back-gammon,

And win your necks upon the set,

As well as ours who did but bet,

(For he had drawn your ears before, ices

And nick'd them on the self-same score),

We threw the box and dice away,

Before y' had lost us at foul play,

And brought you down to rook and lye.

And fancy only on the bye ; 1070

Redeem'd your forfeit jobbernoles,

From perching upon lofty poles,

And rescu'd all your outward traitors

From hanging up like alligators ;

For which ingeniously y' have shew'd 1075

Your Presbyterian gratitude ;

Would freely have paid us home in kind,

And not have been one rope behind.

Those were your motives to divide,

lg63 Alluding to the case of Mr. Pryn, who had his ears cropped twice for his seditious writings.

PART III. CANTO II. 43

And scruple, on the other side, ioso

To turn your zealous frauds, and force,

To fits of conscience and remorse ;

To be convinc'd they were in vain,

And face about for new again ;

For truth no more unveil'd your eyes, 1081

Than maggots are convinc'd to flies ;

And therefore all your Lights and Calls

Are but apocryphal and false,

To charge us with the consequences

Of all your native insolences, 1000

That to your own imperious wills,

Laid Law and Gospel neck and heels ;

Corrupted the Old Testament,

To serve the New for precedent ;

T' amend its errors and defects, 1095

With murder and rebellion-texts ;

Of which there is not any one

In all the book to sow upon ;

And therefore (from your tribe) the Jews

Held Christian doctrine forth, and use ; 1100

As Mahomet (your chief) began

To mix them in the Alcoran ;

Denounc'd and pray'd, with fierce devotion,

And bended elbows on the cushion ;

Stole from the beggars all your tones, 1105

And gifted mortifying groans ;

Had lights where better eyes were blind,

loss yAK « Than maggots when they turn to flies.' to9a This was done by a fanatical printer, in the seventh commandment ; who printed it, ' Thou shalt commit adultery,* and was fined for it in the Star-chamber, or High-commission Court.

44 HUDIBRAS.

As pigs are' said to see the wind ;

Fill'd Bedlam with predestination,

And Knightsbridge with illumination ; mo

Made children, with your tones, to run for 't,

As bad as Bloodybones or Lunsford.

While women, great with child, miscarry'd,

For being to Malignants marry'd :

Transform'd all wives to Dalilahs, ms

Whose husbands were not for the Cause ;

And turn'd the men to ten-horn'd cattle,

Because they came not out to battle ;

Made tailors' 'prentices turn heroes,

For fear of being transform'd to Meroz, nso

And rather forfeit their indentures,

Than not espouse the Saints' adventures :

Could transubstantiate, metamorphose,

1112 It was one of the artifices of the Male-contents in the Civil war to raise false alarms, and to fill the people full of frightful apprehensions. In particular they raised a terrible outcry of the imaginary danger they conceived from the Lord Digby and Colonel Lunsford. Lilburn glories, upon his trial, for being an incendiary on such occasions, and mentions the tumult he raised against the innocent Colonel as a meritorious action : " I was once arraigned (says he) before the House of Peers, for sticking close to the liberties and privileges of this nation, and those that stood for them, being one of those two or three men that first drew their swords in Westminster-hall against Colonel Lunsford, and some scores of his associates : at that time it was supposed they intended to cut the throats of the chiefest men then sitting in the House of Peers." And, to render him the more odious, they reported that he was of so brutal an appetite, that he would eat children. And, to make this gentleman the more detestable, they made horrid pictures of him. Colonel Luusford, after all, was a person of extraordinary sobriety, industry, and courage, and was killed at the taking of Bristol by the King, in 1643.

PART HI. CANTO II. 4b

And charm whole herds of beasts, like Orpheus ;

Enchant the King's and Church's lands, 1125

T obey and follow your commands,

And settle on a new freehold,

As Marcly-hill had done of old :

Could turn the Cov'nant and translate

The Gospel into spoons and plate ; 1130

Expound upon all merchants' cashes,

And open th' intricatest places ;

Could catechise a money-box,

And prove all pouches orthodox ;

Until the Cause became a Damon, 1135

And Pythias the wicked Mammon.

And yet, in spite of all your charms To conjure Legion up in arms, And raise more devils in the rout, Than e'er y' were able to cast out, IHO

Y' have been reduc'd, and by those fools, Bred up (you say) in your own schools, Who, though but gifted at your feet, Have made it plain they have more wit, By whom you've been so oft trepann'd, 1145

And held forth out of all command ; Out-gifted, out-impuls'd, out-done, And out-reveal'd at Carryings-on, Of all your Dispensations worm'd Out-providenc'd and out-reform'd; 1150

Ejected out of Church and State, And all things but the people's hate ; And spirited out of th' enjoyments Of precious, edifying employments, By those who lodg'd their gifts and graces, 1155 Like better bowlers, in your places :

46 HUDIBRAS.

All which you bore with resolution,

Charg'd on th' account of persecution ;

And though most righteously oppress'd,

Against your wills still acquiesc'd ; neo

And never humm'd and hah'd Sedition,

Nor snuffled Treason, nor Misprision :

That is, because you never durst ;

For, had you preach'd and pray'd your worst,

Alas ! you were no longer able H65

To raise your posse of the rabble :

One single red-coat sentinel

Outcharm'd the magic of the spell,

And, with his squirt-fire, could disperse

Whole troops with chapter rais'd and verse. 1170

We knew too well those tricks of yours,

To leave it ever in your powers,

Or trust our safeties, or undoings,

To your disposing of Outgoings,

Or to your ord'ring Providence, 1175

One farthing's worth of consequence.

For, had you power to undermine, Or wit to carry a design, Or correspondence to trepan, Inveigle, or betray one man, nso

There's nothing else that intervenes, And bars your zeal to use the means ; And therefore wondrous like, no doubt, To bring in Kings, or keep them out : Brave undertakers to restore, 1185

That could not keep yourselves in pow*r ; T advance the int'rests of the Crown, That wanted wit to keep your own.

Tis true ye have (for I'd be loth

PAKT III. CANTO II. 47

To wrong ye) done your parts in both, noo

To keep him out and bring him in,

As Grace is introduc'd by Sin ;

For 'twas your zealous want of sense

And sanctify'd impertinence,

Your carrying business in a huddle, 119:

That forc'd our rulers to new-model,

Oblig'd the State to tack about,

And turn you, root and branch, all out ;

To reformado, one and all,

T* your great Croysado General : 1200

Your greedy slav'ring to devour,

Before 'twas in your clutches, pow'r ;

That sprung the game you were to set,

Before y' had time to draw the net :

Your spite to see the Church's lands 1205

Divided into other hands,

And all your sacrilegious ventures

Laid out in tickets and debentures ;

Your envy to be sprinkled down,

By under churches in the Town ; 1210

And no course us'd to stop their mouths,

Nor th' Independents' spreading growths ;

All which consider'd, 'tis most true

None bring him in so much as you,

Who have prevail'd beyond their plots, 1215

Their midnight juntos, and seal'd knots ;

That thrive more by your zealous piques,

Than all their own rash politics.

And this way you may claim a share

In carrying (as you brag) th' affair ; 1220

Else frogs and toads, that croak'd the Jews

From Pharaoh and his brick-kilns loose,

48 HUDIBRAS.

And flies and mange, that set them free

From taskmasters and slavery,

Were likelier to do the feat, 1225

In any indiff'rent man's conceit.

For who e'er heard of Restoration,

Until your thorough Reformation ?

That is, the King's and Church's lands

Were sequester'd int' other hands : isso

For only then, and not before,

Your eyes were open'd to restore ;

And when the work was carrying on,

Who cross'd it but yourselves alone ?

As by a world of hints appears, 1235

All plain and extant, as your ears.

But first, o' th' first : The Isle of Wight Will rise up, if you should deny 't, Where Henderson and th' other Masses

1239 When the King, in the year 1646, was in the Scotch army, the English Parliament sent him some propositions, one of which was the abolition of Episcopacy, and the set ting up Presbytery in its stead. Mr. Henderson, one of the chief of the Scotch Presbyterian ministers, was employed to induce the King to agree to this proposition, it being what his Majesty chiefly stuck at. Accordingly he came provided with books and papers for his purpose : the controversy was debated in writing, as well as by personal conference, and several papers passed between them, which have been several times published ; from which it appears that the King, with out books or papers, or any one to assist him, was an over match for this old champion of the Kirk (and, I think, it will be no hyperbole if I add, for all the then English and Scotch Presbyterian teachers put together), and made him so far a. convert, that he departed with great sorrow to Edinburgh, with a deep sense of the mischief of which he had been the author and abettor ; and not only lamented to his friends and confidents, on his death-bed, which followed soon after, but likewise published a solemn declaration to the Parliament and

PART III. CANTO II. As if ft unseasonable fools

Sf'*^^s£Sc^^f'SS

«»U learned «holmfZSS,e °? qUite ""WtoS

50 HUDIBKAS.

0' th' Cov'nant, and the Cause his daughter :

For when they charg'd him with the guilt

Of all the blood that had been spilt,

They did not mean he wrought th' effusion

In person, like Sir Pride, or Hughson, 1250

But only those who first begun

The quarrel were by him set on ;

And who could those be but the Saints,

Those Reformation-termagants ?

But, ere this, pass'd, the wise debate 1255

Spent so much time, it grew too late ;

For Oliver had gotten ground,

T' inclose him with his warriors round ;

Had brought his Providence about,

And turn'd th' untimely sophists out. 1250

Nor had the Uxbridge business less Of nonsense in 't, or sottishness ; When from a scoundrel holder-forth,

1250 pride was a foundling. He went into the army, was made a colonel, and was principally concerned in secluding the members in order to the King's trial ; which great change was called Colonel Pride's Purge. He was one of Oliver Cromwell's upper house. He is called Thomas Lord Pride in the commission for erecting a High Court of Justice for the trial of Sir Henry Slingsby, Dr. Hewit, &c. Mr. Butler calls him Sir Pride, by way of sneer upon the manner of his being knighted ; for Oliver Cromwell knighted him with a faggot-stick, instead of a sword.

Hughson was a cobbler, went into the army, and was made a colonel; knighted by Oliver Cromwell, and, to help to cobble the crazy state of the nation, was made one of Oliver's upper house.

n63 This was Mr. Christopher Love, a furious Presby terian, who, when the King's Commissioners met those of the Parliament at Uxbridge, in the year 1644, to treat of peace, preached a sermon there, on the 30th of January, against the treaty, and said, among other things, that " no

PART III. CANTO n>

The scum as well as son o'th' earth Jour mighty senators took law ' At his command were forc'd t' ™>^ 1265

.

Somany,raysbeen^ '^ Came mat lost fo betterfnd7d'

52 HUD1BRAS.

This shews what utensils y' have been

To bring the King's concernments in ; 1280

Which is so far from being true,

That none but he can bring in you ;

And if he take you into trust

Will find you most exactly just,

Such as will punctually repay 1235

W'ith double int'rest, and betray.

Not that I think those pantomimes, Who vary action with the times, Are less ingenious in their art Than those who dully act one part ; 1290

Or those who turn from side to side More guilty than the wind and tide. All countries are a wise man's home, And so are governments to some, Who change them for the same intrigues ii'w That statesmen use in breaking leagues ; While others, in old faiths and troths, Look odd as out-of-fashion'd clothes, And nastier in an old opinion Than those who never shift their linen. 1.300

For True and Faithful 's sure to lose Which way soever the game goes ; And, whether parties lose or win, Is always nick'd, or else hedg'd in : While power usurp'd, like stol'n delight, 1305

Is more bewitching than the right, And, when the times begin to alter, None rise so high as from the halter.

And so may we, if w' have but sense /o use the necessary means, isio

And not your usual stratagems

PART III. CANTO II. 53

On one another, lights and dreams :

To stand on terms as positive

As if we did not take, but give ;

Set up the Covenant on crutches isis

'Gainst those who have us in their clutches,

And dream of pulling churches down

Before w' are sure to prop our own ;

Your constant method of proceeding,

Without the carnal means of heeding, 1320

Who, 'twixt your inward sense and outward,

Are worse than if y' had none accoutred.

I grant all courses are in vain Unless we can get in again,

The only way that's left us now ; m-»

But all the difficulty's how. 'Tis true w* have money, th' only power That all mankind falls down before ; Money, that, like the swords of kings, Is the last reason of all things : 1330

And therefore need not doubt our play Has all advantages that way, As long as men have faith to sell, And meet with those that can pay well ; Whose half-starvM pride and avarice i?,?,5

One Church and State will not suffice T expose to sale, besides the wages Of storing plagues to after-ages. Nor is our money less our own Than 'twas before we laid it down ; mo

For 'twill return, and turn t' account, If we are brought in play upon 't : Or but, by casting knaves, get in, What pow'r can hinder us to win ?

54 HUDIBRAS.

We know the arts we us'd before 1345

In peace and war, and something more,

And by th' unfortunate events

Can mend our next experiments ;

For, when we're taken into trust,

How easy are the wisest choust, 1350

Who see but th' outsides of our feats,

And not their secret springs and weights ;

And, while they 're busy at their ease,

Can carry what designs we please ?

How easy is 't to serve for agents 1355

To prosecute our old engagements ?

To keep the good old Cause on foot,

And present power from taking root ;

Inflame them both with false alarms

Of plots and parties taking arms ; iseo

To keep the nation's wounds too wide

From healing up of side to side ;

Profess the passionat'st concerns

For both their interests by turns,

The only way t' improve our own, 1365

By dealing faithfully with none ;

(As bowls run true by being made

On purpose false, and to be sway'd) ;

For if we should be true to either,

'Twould turn us out of both together ; 1370

And therefore have no other means

To stand upon our own defence,

But keeping up our ancient party

In vigour confident and hearty :

To reconcile our late Dissenters, 1375

1362 VAR. ' For healing up.' 1368 VAB. ' Of purpose false.'

PART III. CANTO II. 55

Our Brethren, though by other venters ;

Unite them and their different maggots,

As long and short sticks are in faggots,

And make them join again as close

As when they first began t' espouse ; iseo

Erect them into separate

New Jewish tribes in Church and State ;

To join in marriage and commerce,

And only 'mong themselves converse,

And all that are not of their mind 1385

Make enemies to all mankind;

Take all religions in, and stickle

From Conclave down to Conventicle ;

Agreeing still, or disagreeing,

According to the Light in being. 1390

Sometimes for liberty of conscience,

And spiritual misrule in one sense ;

But in another quite contrary,

As Dispensations chance to vary ;

And stand for, as the times will bear it, 139-3

All contradictions of the Spirit :

Protect their emissaries, empower'd

To preach Sedition and the Word;

And, when they 're hamper'd by the laws,

Release the lab'rers for the Cause, MOO

And turn the persecution back

On those that made the first attack,

To keep them equally in awe

From breaking or maintaining law :

And when they have their fits too soon, U05

Before the full-tides of the moon,

Put off their zeal t' a fitter season

For sowing faction in and treason ;

56 HUD1BKAS.

And keep them hooded, and their Churches,

Like hawks, from baiting on their perches ; Hio

That, when the blessed time shall come

Of quitting Babylon and Rome,

They may be ready to restore

Their own Fifth Monarchy once more.

Mean while be better arm'd to fence uis

Against revolts of Providence, By watching narrowly, and snapping All blind sides of it, as they happen: For if success could make us Saints, Our ruin turn'd us miscreants ; 1420

A scandal that would fall too hard Upon a few, and unprepar'd.

These are the courses we must run, Spite of our hearts, or be undone ; And not to stand on terms and freaks, 1425

Before we have secured our necks, But do our work as out of sight, As stars by day, and suns by night ; All licence of the people own, In opposition to the Crown ; 1430

And for the Crown as fiercely side,

i4w MM The author of "The Fourth Part of the History of Independency," p. 56, compares the governors of those times with the Turks, who ascribe the goodness of their cause to the keenness of their sword, denying that any thing may properly be called nefas, if it can but win the epithet of prosperum. Dr. Owen seems to have been in this way of thinking. " Where," says he (" Eben Ezer," p. 13, " L'Estrange's Dis senters' Sayings," part ii. p. 11.) "is the God of Marston Moor, and the God of Naseby ? is an acceptable expostulation in a glorious day. 0 ! what a catalogue of mercies has this nation to plead by in a time of trouble ! The God came from Naseby, and the Holy One from the West. Selah."

PART III. CANTO IT. 57

The head and body to divide :

The end of all we first design'd,

And all that yet remains behind.

Be sure to spare no public rapine . 1435

On all emergencies that happen ;

For 'tis as easy to supplant

Authority as men in want ;

As some of us in trusts have made

The one hand with the other trade ; 1440

Gain'd vastly by their joint endeavour,

The right a thief, the left receiver ;

And what the one, by tricks, forestall'd,

The other, by as sly, retail'd.

For gain has wonderful effects 1445

T improve the factory of sects ;

The rule of faith in all professions,

And great Diana of th' Ephesians ;

Whence turning of religion 's made

The means to turn and wind a trade ; 1450

And though some change it for the worse,

They put themselves into a course,

And draw in store of customers,

To thrive the better in commerce :

For all religions flock together, 1455

Like tame and wild fowl of a feather ;

To nab the itches of their sects,

As jades do one another's necks.

Hence 'tis hypocrisy as well

Will serve t' improve a church as zeal ; 1460

As persecution or promotion

Do equally advance devotion.

Let business, like ill watches, go Sometime too fast, sometime too slow ;

58 HUDIBRAS.

For things in order are put out Her,

So easy, ease itself will do 't :

But when the feat 's design'd and meant,

What miracle can bar th' event ?

For 'tis more easy to betray

Than ruin any other way. 1470

All possible occasions start, The weightiest matters to divert ; Obstruct, perplex, distract, entangle, And lay perpetual trains to wrangle ; But in affairs of less import, 117.3

That neither do us good nor hurt, And they receive as little by, Out-fawn as much, and out-comply ; And seem as scrupulously just, To bait our hooks for greater trust. HSO

But still be careful to cry down All public actions, though our own ; The least miscarriage aggravate, And charge it all upon the State : Express the horrid'st detestation, uss

And pity the distracted nation ; Tell stories scandalous and false I' th' proper language of cabals, Where all a subtle statesman says Is half in words and half in face ; HOQ

(As Spaniards talk in dialogues Of heads and shoulders, nods and shrugs) ; Intrust it under solemn vows Of Mum, and Silence, and the Rose, To be retail'd again in whispers, 1495

For th' easy credulous to disperse.

Thus far the Statesman — when a shout,

PART III. CANTO II. 59

Heard at a distance, put him out ;

And straight another, all aghast,

Rush'd in with equal fear and haste, 1500

Who star'd about, as pale as death,

And, for a while, as out of breath ;

Till, having gather'd up his wits,

He thus began his tale by fits : —

That beastly rabble — that came down 1505

From all the garrets — in the Town, And stalls, and shop-boards — in vast swarms, With new-chalk'd bills, and rusty arms, To cry the Cause — up, heretofore, And bawl the Bishops — out of door, 1510

Are now drawn up — in greater shoals, To roast — and broil us on the coals, And all the Grandees — of our members Are carbonading — on the embers ; Knights, citizens, and burgesses — 1515

Held forth by rumps — of pigs and geese, That serve for characters — and badges To represent their personages ; Each bonfire is a funeral pile,

150* ^e iearn from Lilly, that the messenger who brought this terrifying intelligence to this cabal was Sir MartynNoell. Sir Martyn tells his story naturally and begins like a man in a fright and out of breath, and continues to make breaks and stops till he naturally recovers it, and then proceeds floridly, and without impediment. This is a beauty in the Poem not to be disregarded ; and let the reader make an experiment, and shorten his breath, or, in other words, put himself into Sir Martyn's condition, and then read this relation, and he will soon be convinced that the breaks are natural and judici ous.

1505 This is an accurate description of the mob's burning rumps upon the admission of the secluded members, in con tempt of the Rump Parliament.

60 HUDIBRAS.

In which they roast, and scorch, and broil, 1520

And ev'ry representative

Have vow'd to roast — and broil alive :

And 'tis a miracle we are not Already sacrific'd incarnate ; For while we wrangle here and jar 1525

We 're grilly'd all at Temple-bar ; Some, on the signpost of an alehouse, Hang in effigy on the gallows, Made up of rags, to personate Respective officers of state ; isao

That henceforth they may stand reputed Proscrib'd in law and executed, And, while the Work is carrying on, Be ready listed under Dun,

That worthy patriot, once the bellows i-'So

And tinder-box of all his fellows ; The activ'st member of the five, As well as the most primitive ; Who, for his faithful service then, Is chosen for a fifth agen : — 1540

(For since the State has made a quint Of Generals, he's listed in 't:)— This worthy, as the world will say, Is paid in specie his own way;

1534 Dun wag £ne pubiic executioner at that time, and the executioners long after that went by the same name.

1540 Sir Arthur Hazlerig, one of the five members of the House of Commons, was impeached 1641-2 ; was Governor of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, had the Bishop of Durham's house, park, and manor of Auckland, and .£6500. in money, given him. He died in the Tower of London, January 8, 1661.

1541 1542 The Rump, growing jealous of General Monk, ordered that the generalship should be vested in five com missioners, Monk, Hazlerig, Walton, Morley, and Alured,

PART III. CANTO II. 61

For, moulded to the life, in clouts io4s

Th' have pick'd from dunghills hereabouts,

He 's mounted on a hazel bavin

A cropp'd malignant baker gave 'em ;

And to the largest bonfire riding,

They Ve roasted Cook already, and Pride in ; 1550

On whom, in equipage and state,

His scarecrow fellow-members wait,

And march in order, two and two,

As at thanksgivings th' us'd to do,

Each in a tatter'd talisman, 1555

Like vermin in effigy slain.

But (what's more dreadful than the rest) Those rumps are but the tail o' th' Beast, Set up by Popish engineers, As by the crackers plainly' appears ; ioeo

For none but Jesuits have a mission To preach the faith with ammunition, And propagate the church with powder ; Their founder was a blown-up soldier. These spiritual pioneers o' th' whore's, ises

That have the charge of all her stores, Since first they fail'd in their designs To take-in heav'n by springing mines, And with unanswerable barrels

making three a quorum, but denying a motion that Monk should be of that quorum; but, their authority not being then much regarded, this order was not obeyed, and Monk continued sole general notwithstanding.

1550 The wicked wretch who acted as solicitor in the King's trial, and drew up a charge of high treason against him, and had drawn up a formal plea against him, in case he had .sub mitted to the jurisdiction of the Court. At his own trial he pleaded, that what he did was as a lawyer for his fee. He deservedly suffered at Tyburn as a Regicide.

62 HUDIBRAS.

Of gunpowder dispute their quarrels, 1570

Now take a course more practicable,

By laying trains to fire the rabble,

And blow us up, in th' open streets,

Disguis'd in rumps, like sambenites,

More like to ruin and confound 1575

Than all their doctrines under ground.

Nor have they chosen rumps amiss For symbols of State-mysteries, Though some suppose 'twas but to shew How much they scorn'd the Saints, the few, 1580 Who, 'cause they 're wasted to the stumps, Are represented best by rumps': But Jesuits have deeper reaches In all their politic far-fetches, And, from the Coptic priest Kircherus, isss

Found out this mystic way to jeer us : For as th' Egyptians us'd by bees T' express their antique Ptolomies, And by their stings, the swords they wore, Held forth authority and pow'r ; ISDO

Because these subtle animals Bear all their int'rests in their tails, And when they're once impair'd in that, Are banish'd their well-order'd state, They thought all governments were best 1595

By hieroglyphic rumps exprest.

For as, in bodies natural, The rump 's the fundament of all, So, in a commonwealth or realm, The government is call'd the Helm, IGOO

isss yAR> 'Kirkerus,' Athanasius Kircher, a Jesuit, hath •written largely on the Egyptian mystical learning.

PART III. CANTO II. 63

With which, like vessels under sail,

They 're turn'd and winded by the tail :

The tail, which birds and fishes steer

Their courses with through sea and air,

To whom the rudder of the rump is IGOS

The same thing with the stern and compass.

This shews how perfectly the rump

And commonwealth in Nature jump :

For as a fly that goes to bed

Rests with his tail above his head, ieio

So in this mongrel state of ours

The rabble are the supreme powers,

That hors'd us on their backs, to show us

A jadish trick at last, and throw us.

The learned Rabbins of the Jews leis

Write there 's a bone, which they call Luez, I' th' rump of man, of such a virtue No force in Nature can do hurt to ; And therefore, at the last great day, All th' other members shall, they say, HBO

Spring out of this, as from a seed All sorts of vegetals proceed ; From whence the learned sons of Art Os sacrum justly style that part. Then what can better represent i62r>

Than this rump-bone the Parliament, That, after several rude ejections And as prodigious resurrections, With new reversions, of nine lives Starts up, and like a cat revives ? 1830

But now, alas ! they, 're all expir'd, And th' House as well as members fir'd ; Consumed in kennels by the rout,

64 HUDIBRAS.

With which they other fires put out ;

G'ondemn'd t' ungoverning distress, less

And paltry private wretchedness ;

Worse than the devil to privation

Beyond all hopes of restoration ;

And parted, like the body and soul,

From all dominion and control. 1610

We who could lately, with a look, Enact, establish, or revoke, Whose arbitrary nods gave law, And frowns kept multitudes in awe ; Before the bluster of whose huff 1645

All hats, as in a storm, flew off; Ador'd and bow'd to by the great, Down to the footman and valet ; Had more bent knees than chapel-mats, And prayers than the crowns of hats ; 1600

Shall now be scorn'd as wretchedly, For ruin 's just as low as high ; Which might be suffer'd, were it all The horror that attends our fall : For some of us have scores more large 1655

Than heads and quarters can discharge ; And others, who, by restless scraping, With public frauds, and private rapine, Have mighty heaps of wealth amass'd, Would gladly lay down all at last ; leco

And, to be but undone, entail

1601 This the Regicides in general would have done gladly ; but the ringleaders of them were executed 'in terrorem.' Those that came in upon proclamation were brought to the bar of the House of Lords, 25th November, 1661, to answer what they could say for themselves why judgment should not

PART III. CANTO II. 05

Their vessels on perpetual jail,

And bless the dev'l to let them farms

Of forfeit souls on no worse terms.

This said, a near and louder shout 1665

Put all th' assembly to the rout, Who now began t' outrun their fear, As horses do from those they bear ; But crowded on with so much haste, Until th' had block'd the passage fast, 1670

And barricado'd it with haunches Of outward men, and bulks, and paunches, That with their shoulders strove to squeeze, And rather save a crippled piece Of all their crush'd and broken members, 1675 Than have them grillied on the embers ; Still pressing on with heavy packs

be executed against them ? They severally alleged, " That, upon his Majesty's gracious Declaration from Breda, and the votes of the Parliament, &c. they did render themselves, being advised that they should thereby secure their lives ; and humbly craved the benefit of the proclamation, £c." And Harry Martyri "briskly added, " That he had never obeyed any proclamation before this, and hoped he should not be hanged for taking the King's word now." A bill was brought in for their execution, which was read twice, but afterwards dropt, and so they were all sent to their several prisons, and little more heard of. Ludlow, and some others, escaped by flying among the Swiss Cantons.

1665 1666 When Sir Martyn came to this cabal, he left the rabble at Temple-bar ; but, by the time he had concluded his discourse, they were advanced near Whitehall and West minster. This alarmed our caballers, and perhaps terrified them with the apprehension of being hanged or burned in reality, as some of them that very instant were in effigy. No wonder, therefore, they broke up so precipitately, and that each endeavoured to secure himself. The manner of it is described with a poetical licence, only to embellish this Canto with a diverting catastrophe.

TOL. II. P

66

HUDIBRAS.

Of one another on their backs, The van-guard could no longer bear The charges of the forlorn rear, But, borne down headlong by the rout, Were trampled sorely under foot ; Yet nothing prov'd so formidable As th' horrid cookery of the rabble ; And fear, that keeps all feeling out, As lesser pains are by the gout, Reliev'd them with a fresh supply Of rallied force, enough to fly, And beat a Tuscan running-horse, Whose jockey-rider is all spurs.

PART III. CANTO III*

THE AKGUMENT.

The Knight and Squire's prodigious flight To quit th' enchanted bow'r by night. Be plots to turn his amorous suit T a plea in law, and prosecute : Kepairs to counsel, to advise 'Bout managing the enterprise ; But first resolves to try by letter, And one more fair address, to get her.

HO would believe what strange bugbears Mankind creates itself of fears,

w

* Our Poet now resumes his principal subject; and the reason why he is so full in the recapitulation of the last adventure of our Knight and Squire is, because we had lost sight of our Ueroes for the space of the longest Canto in the whole Poem.

PART III. CANTO III. 67

That spring, like fern, that insect weed, Equivocally, without seed,

And have no possible foundation 5

But merely in th' imagination ? And yet can do more dreadful feats Than hags with all their imps and teats ; Make more bewitch and haunt themselves Than all their nurseries of elves. 10

For fear does things so like a witch, 'Tis hard t' unriddle which is which ; Sets up communities of senses, To chop and change intelligences ; As Rosycrucian virtuosos 15

Can see with ears, and hear with noses ; And, when they neither see nor hear. Have more than both supply'd by fear, That makes them in the dark see visions, And hag themselves with apparitions, 20

And, when their eyes discover least, Discern the subtlest objects best ; Do things not contrary alone To th' course of Nature, but its own ; The courage of the bravest daunt, 25

And turn poltroons as valiant : For men as resolute appear With too much, as too little fear ; And, when they 're out of hopes of flying Will run away from death by dying ; so

Or turn again to stand it out, And those they fled, like lions, rout. This Hudibras had prov'd too true, I Who, by the Furies left perdue, And haunted with detachments sent 35

68 HUDIBRAS.

From Marshal Legion's regiment,

Was by a fiend, as counterfeit,

Reliev'd and rescu'd with a cheat,

When nothing but himself and fear

Were both the imps and conjurer ; 40

As, by the rules o' th' virtuosi,

It follows in due form of poesie.

Disguis'd in all the masks of night, We left our champion on his flight, At blindman's buff to grope his way, 45

In equal fear of night and day ; Who took his dark and desp'rate course, He knew no better than his horse ; And, by an unknown devil led (He knew as little whither), fled : 50

He never was in greater need Nor less capacity of speed ; Disabled, both in man and beast, To fly and run away his best, To keep the enemy and fear 55

From equal falling on his rear. And though with kicks and bangs he ply'd The further and the nearer side ; (As seamen ride with all their force, And tug as if they row'd the horse, eo

And, when the hackney sails most swift, Believe they lag, or run adrift) ; So, though he posted e'er so fast, His fear was greater than his haste : For fear, though fleeter than the wind, 6,5

33 Alluding to Stephen Marshal's bellowing out treason from the pulpit, in order to recruit the army of the Rebels. He was called the ' Geneva Bull.'

PART III. CANTO III. 69

Believes 'tis always left behind.

But when the morn began t' appear,

And shift t' another scene his fear,

He found his new officious shade,

That came so timely to his aid, 70

And forc'd him from the foe t' escape,

Had turn'd itself to Ralpho's shape,

So like in person, garb, and pitch,

'Twas hard t' interpret which was which.

For Ralpho had no sooner told 75

The Lady all he had t' unfold, But she convey'd him out of sight, To entertain th' approaching Knight ; And while he gave himself diversion, T' accommodate his beast and person, so

And put his beard into a posture At best advantage to accost her, She order'd th' anti-masquerade (For his reception) aforesaid : But when the ceremony was done, as

The lights put out, the Furies gone, And Hudibras, among the rest, Convey'd away, as Ralpho guess'd, The wretched caitiff, all alone (As he belieVd), began to moan, oo

And tell his story to himself, The Knight mistook him for an elf; And did so still, till he began To scruple at Ralph's outward man, And thought, because they oft agreed 95

T appear in one another's stead, And act the saint's and devil's part

77 VAR. ' But she convoy'd him.'

70 HUDIBRAS.

With undistinguishable art,

They might have done so now, perhaps,

And put on one another's shapes ; 100

And therefore, to resolve the doubt,

He star'd upon him, and cry'd out, —

What art ? My squire, or that bold sprite

That took his place and shape to-night ?

Some busy Independent pug, 105

Retainer to his synagogue ?

Alas ! quoth he, I 'm none of those Your bosom friends, as you suppose, But Ralph himself, your trusty Squire, Wh' has dragg'd your Dunship out o' th' mire, no And from th' enchantments of a Widow, Wh' had turn'cl you int' a beast, have freed you ; And, though a prisoner of war, Have brought you safe where now you are ; Which you would gratefully repay nr.

Your constant Presbyterian way. —

That 's stranger (quoth the Knight), andstranger ; Who gave thee notice of my danger ?

Quoth he, Th' infernal conjurer Pursivd, and took me prisoner ; 120

And, knowing you were hereabout, Brought me along to find you out ; Where I, in hugger-mugger hid, Have noted all they said or did : And, though they lay to him the pageant. 125

I did not sec him, nor his agent ; Who play'd their sorceries out of sight, T' avoid a fiercer second fight. —

But didst thou see no devils then ? — 103 VAR. 'Spright.' "° VAR. 'Donship.'

PART III. CANTO III. 71

Not one (quoth he) but carnal men, iso

A little worse than fiends in hell,

And that she-devil Jezebel,

That laugh'd and tee -he'd with derision

To see them take your deposition.

What then (quoth Hudibras) was he 135

That play'd the dev'l t' examine me ? —

A. rallying weaver in the town, That did it in a parson's gown ; Whom all the parish takes for gifted, But, for my part, I ne'er believ'd it : u&

In which you told them all your feats, Your conscientious frauds and cheats ; Deny:d your whipping, and confess'd The naked truth of all the rest, More plainly than the rev'rend writer 145

That to our churches veil'd his mitre ; All which they took in black and white, And cudgel'd me to underwrite.

What made thee, when they all were gone, And none but thou and I alone, 150

145 Though there were more than one in those times that this character would have suited, yet it is probable that George Giaham, Bishop of Orkney, is sneered at in this place by Mr. Butler. He was so base as to renounce and abjure Episcopacj, signing the abjuration with his own hand, at Breckness,in Strones, February 11, 1639. To this remark able incident Bishop Hall alludes (" Epistle Dedicatory," pre fixed to his " Episcopacy by Divine Right, &c." 1640", p. 1.), where he observes, " That he craved pardon for having ac cepted his Episcopal function as if he had thereby com mitted some heinous offence." Upon which he uses the fol lowing exclamation : " Good God ! what is this I have lived to hear? That a Bishop, in a Christian assembly, should re nounce his Episcopal function, and cry Mercy for his now abandoned tailing."

72 HUDIBRAS.

To act the devil, and forbear To rid me of my hellish fear ?

Quoth he, I knew your constant rate, And frame of sp'rit, too obstinate To be by me prevail'd upon us

With any motives of my own ; And therefore strove to counterfeit The dev'l a while, to nick your wit ; The dev'l, that is your constant crony, That only can prevail upon ye ; ieo

Else we might still have been disputing, And they with weighty drubs confuting.

The Knight, who now began to find They 'd left the enemy behind, And saw no further harm remain I 165

But feeble weariness and pain, Perceiv'd, by losing of their way, Th' had gain'd tti' advantage of the day, And, by declining of the road, They- had, by chance, their rear made good He ventur'd to dismiss his fear, That parting's wont to rant and tear, And give the desperat'st attack To danger still behind its back : For having paus'd to recollect, 175

And on his past success reflect, T' examine and consider why, And whence, and how, he came to fly, And when no devil had appear'd, What else it could be said he fear'd, It put him in so fierce a rage, He once resolv'd to re-engage ; Toss'd, like a foot-ball, back again

PART III. CANTO III. 73

With shame, and vengeance, and disdain.

Quoth he, It was thy cowardice is5

That made me from this leaguer rise, And, when I 'd half-reduc'd the place, To quit it infamously base ; Was better cover'd by the new- Arriv'd detachment than I knew : 190

To slight my new acquests, and run, Victoriously, from battles won ; And, reck'ning all I gain'd or lost, To sell them cheaper than they cost ; To make me put myself to flight, 195

And, conqu'ring, run away by night ; To drag me out, which th' haughty foe Durst never have presumed to do ; To mount me in the dark by force Upon the bare ridge of my horse, 200

Expos'd in querpo to their rage, Without my arms and equipage ; Lest, if they ventur'd to pursue, I might th' unequal fight renew ; And, to preserve thy outward man, 205

Assum'd my place, and led the van.

All this (quoth Ralph) I did, 'tis true, Not to preserve myself, but you : You, who were damn'd to baser drubs Than wretches feel in powd'ring tubs, 210

To mount two-wheel'd caroches, worse Than managing a wooden horse ; Dragg'd out through straiter holes by th' ears, Eras'd, or coup'd for perjurers : Who, though th' attempt had prov'd in vain, 215 Had had no reason to complain ;

74 HUDIBRAS.

But, since it prospered, 'tis unhandsome To blame the hand that paid your ransom, And rescu'd your obnoxious bones From unavoidable battoons. 21*0

The enemy was reinforc'd, And we disabled and unhors'd, Disarm'd, unqualify'd for fight, And no way left but hasty flight, Which, though as desp'rate in th' attempt, 225 Has giv'n you freedom to condemn 't. But, were our bones in fit condition To reinforce the expedition, 'Tis now unseas'nable and vain To think of falling on again : 230

No martial project to surprise Can ever be attempted twice ; Nor cast design serve afterwards, As gamesters tear their losing cards. Beside, our bangs of man and beast 235

Are fit for nothing now but rest, And for a while will not be able To rally and prove serviceable : And therefore I, with reason, chose This stratagem t' amuse our foes 240

To make an hon'rable retreat, And waive a total sure defeat : For those that fly may fight again, Which he can never do that 's slain. Hence timely running 's no mean part 215

Of conduct in the martial art, By which some glorious feats achieve, As citizens by breaking thrive, And cannons conquer armies, while

PART III. CANTO III. 75

They seem to draw off and recoil ; 250

Is held the gallant'st course, and bravest,

To great exploits, as well as safest ;

That spares th' expense of time and pains,

And dang'rous beating out of brains ;

And, in the end, prevails as certain 255

As those that never trust to Fortune ;

But make their fear do execution

Beyond the stoutest resolution ;

As earthquakes kill without a blow,

And, only trembling, overthrow. 260

If th' Ancients crown'd their bravest men

That only sav'd a citizen,

What victory could e'er be won

If ev'ry one would save but one ?

Or fight endanger'd to be lost, 265

Where all resolve to save the most ?

By this means, when a battle 's won,

The war 's as far from being done ;

For those that save themselves, and fly,

Go halves at least i' th' victory ; 270

And sometime, when the loss is small,

And danger great, they challenge all ;

Print new additions to their feats,

And emendations in Gazettes ;

And when, for furious haste to run, 275

They durst not stay to fire a gun,

Have done 't with bonfires, and at home

Made squibs and crackers overcome ;

To set the rabble on a flame,

And keep their governors from blame, 280

Disperse the news the pulpit tells,

Confirm'd with fire-works and with bells ;

76 HUDIBRAS.

And, though reduc'd to that extreme,

They have been forc'd to sing Te JDeum :

Yet, with religious blasphemy, 235

By flatt'ring Heaven with a lie,

And, for their beating, giving thanks,

They 've rais'd recruits, and fill'd their banks ;

For those who run from th' enemy,

Engage them equally to fly ; 290

And when the fight becomes a chace,

Those win the day that win the race ;

And that which would not pass in fights,

Has done the feat with easy flights ;

Recover'd many a desp'rate campaign 293

With Bourdeaux, Burgundy, and Champaign ;

Restor'd the fainting high and mighty

With brandy-wine, and aqua-vitae ;

And made 'em stoutly overcome

With Bacrack, Hoccamore, and Mum ; soo

With th' uncontrol'd decrees of -Fate

To victory necessitate ;

With which, although they run or burn,

They unavoidably return ;

Or else their sultan populaces 305

Still strangle all their routed Eassas.

Quoth Hudibras, I understand What fights thou mean'st at sea and land, And who those were that run away, And yet gave out th' had won the day ; sio

Although the rabble souc'd them for 't, O'er head and ears, in mud and dirt. Tis true our modern way of war

300 VAK. 'Baccarack' and ' Bacrach.'— Rhenish Wine, so called from the town near which it is produced.

PABT III. CANTO III. 77

Is grown more politic by far, But not so resolute and bold, 310

Nor ty'd to honour as the old. For now they laugh at giving battle, Unless it be to herds of cattle ; Or fighting convoys of provision, The whole design o' the expedition, 320

And not with downright blows to rout The enemy, but eat them out : As fighting, in all beasts of prey, And eating, are perform'd one way, To give defiance to their teeth, 325

And fight their stubborn guts to death ; And those achieve the high'st renown, That bring the other stomachs down. There 's now no fear of wounds nor maiming, AH dangers are reduc'd to famine, sco

And feats of arms, to plot, design, Surprise, and stratagem, and mine ; But have no need nor use of courage, Unless it be for glory, or forage : For, if they fight, 'tis but by chance, 335

When one side vent'ring to advance, And come uncivilly too near, Are charg'd unmercifully i' th' rear, And forc'd, with terrible resistance, To keep hereafter at a distance, 340

To pick out ground to encamp upon, Where store of largest rivers run, That serve, instead of peaceful barriers, To part th' engagements of their warriors ; Where both from side to side may skip, 345

328 VAR. « The other's stomachs.'

78 HUDIBRAS.

And only encounter at bo-peep :

For men are found the stouter-hearted,

The certainer they 're to be parted,

And therefore post themselves in bogs,

As th' ancient mice attack'd the frogs, 350

And made their mortal enemy,

The water-rat, their strict ally.

For 'tis not now who 's stout and bold ?

But who bears hunger best and cold ?

And he 's approv'd the most deserving, 355

Who longest can hold out at starving ;

And he that routs most pigs and cows,

The formidablest man of prowess.

So th' Emperor Caligula,

That triumph'd o'er the British sea, seo

Took crabs and oysters prisoners,

And lobsters, 'stead of cuirassiers ;

Engag'd his legions in fierce bustles,

With periwinkles, prawns, and muscles.

And led his troops with furious gallops, 365

To charge whole regiments of scallops ;

Not like their ancient way of war,

To wait on his triumphal car ;

But when he went to dine or sup,

More bravely ate his captives up, 370

And left all war, by his example,

Reduc'd to vict'ling of a camp well.

Quoth Ralph, By all that you have said, And twice as much that I could add, 'Tis plain you cannot now do worse 375

Than take this out-of-fashion'd course ; To hope, by stratagem, to woo her, Or waging battle to subdue her :

PART III. CANTO III. 79

Though some have done it in romances,

And bang'd them into am'rous fancies ; sso

As those who won the Amazons,

By wanton drubbing of their bones ;

And stout Rinaldo gain'd his bride

By courting of her back and side.

But since those times and feats are over, sss

They are not for a modern lover,

When mistresses are too cross-grain'd,

By such addresses to be gain'd ;

And, if they were, would have it out

With many another kind of bout. 390

Therefore I hold no course s' infeasible,

As this of force to win the Jezebel ;

To storm her heart, by th' antique charms

Of ladies errant, force of arms ;

But rather strive by law to win her, 393

And try the title you have in her.

Your case is clear, you have her word,

And me to witness the accord ;

Besides two more of her retinue

To testify what pass'd between you ; 400

More probable, and like to hold,

Than hand, or seal, or breaking gold,

For which so many, that renounc'd

Their plighted contracts, have been trounc'd ;

And bills upon record been found, 405

That forc'd the ladies to compound ;

And that, unless I miss the matter,

Is all the business you look after.

Besides, encounters at the bar

Are braver now than those in war; 410

In which the law does execution,

80 IIUDIBBAS.

With less disorder and confusion ;

Has more of honour in 't, some hold,

Not like the new way, but the old ;

When those the pen had drawn together, 415

Decided quarrels with the feather,

And winged arrows kill'd as dead,

And more than bullets now of lead :

So all their combats now, as then,

Are manag'd chiefly by the pen ; 420

That does the feat, with braver vigours,

In words at length, as well as figures ;

Is judge of all the world performs

In voluntary feats of arms ;

And whatsoe'er 's achieVd in fight, 425

Determines which is wrong or right :

For whether you prevail or lose,

All must be tried there in the close ;

And therefore 'tis not wise to shun

What you must trust to ere ye Ve done. 430

The law, that settles all you do, And marries where you did but woo ; That makes the most perfidious lover, A lady, that 's as false, recover ; And, if it judge upon your side, 435

Will soon extend her for your bride, And put her person, goods, or lands, Or which you like best, int' your hands.

For law 's the wisdom of all ages, And manag'd by the ablest sages ; 440

Who, though their bus'ness at the bar Be but a kind of civil war, In which th' engage with fiercer dudgeons Than e'er the Grecians did, and Trojans, They never manage the contest 445

PART m. CA:NTTO in. 81

T' impair their public interest ;

Or by their controversies lessen

The dignity of their profession :

Not like us Brethren, who divide

Our Common-wealth, the Cause, and side ; 450

And though we 're all as near of kindred

As th' outward man is to the inward,

We agree in nothing, but to wrangle

About the slightest fingle-fangle ;

While lawyers have more sober sense, 455

Than t' argue at their own expense,

But make their best advantages

Of others' quarrels, like the Swiss ;

And out of foreign controversies,

By aiding both sides, fill their purses ; 460

But have no int'rest in the cause

For which th' engage, and wage the laws ;

Nor further prospect than their pay,

Whether they lose or win the day.

And though th' abounded in all ages, 463

With sundry learned clerks and sages ;

Though all their business be dispute,

Which way they canvass ev'ry suit,

They 've no disputes about their art,

Nor in polemics controvert ; 470

While all professions else are found

With nothing but disputes t' abound :

Divines of all sorts, and physicians,

Philosophers, mathematicians ;

The Galenist, and Paracelsian, 470

475 Galen was born in the year 130, and lived to the year 200. Paracelsus was bom in the latter end of the 15th, and lived almost to the middle of the 16th century.

VOL. II. G

82 HUDIBRAS.

Condemn the way each other deals in ;

Anatomists dissect and mangle,

To cut themselves out work to wrangle ;

Astrologers dispute their dreams,

That in their sleeps they talk of schemes ; 430

And heralds stickle who got who,

So many hundred years ago.

But lawyers are too wise a nation T' expose their trade to disputation ; Or make the busy rabble judges 435

Of all their secret piques and grudges ; In which, whoever wins the day, The whole profession 's sure to pay. Beside, no mountebanks, nor cheats, Dare undertake to do their feats ; 490

When in all other sciences They swarm like insects, and increase.

For what bigot durst ever draw, By inward light, a deed in law ? Or could hold forth, by revelation, 495

An answer to a declaration ? For those that meddle with their tools, Will cut their fingers, if they 're fools : And if you follow their advice, In bills and answers, and replies, 500

They '11 write a love-letter in Chancery, Shall bring her upon oath to answer ye, And soon reduce her to b' your wife, Or make her weary of her life.

The Knight, who us'd with tricks and shifts 505 To edify by Ralpho's Gifts, But in appearance cry'd him down,

607 VAK. < Cry'd them down.'

PART III. CANTO III. 83

To make 'em better seem his own,

(All plagiaries' constant course

Of sinking, when they take a purse), 510

Resolv'd to follow his advice,

But kept it from him by disguise ;

And, after stubborn contradiction,

To counterfeit his own conviction,

And, by transition, fall upon 515

The resolution as his own.

Quoth he, This gambol thou advisest Is, of all others, the unwisest : For, if I think by law to gain her, There 's nothing sillier nor vainer. 520

'Tis but to hazard my pretence, Where nothing 's certain but th' expense ; To act against myself, and traverse My suit and title to her favours ; And if she should, which HeaVn forbid, 525

O'erthrow me, as the Fiddler did, What after-course have I to take, 'Gainst losing all I have at stake ? He that with injury is griev'd, And goes to law to be reliev'd, 530

Is sillier than a sottish chouse, Who, when a thief has robb'd his house, Applies himself to cunning men, To help him to his goods agen ; When all he can expect to gain, 535

Is but to squander more in vain : And yet I have no other way, But is as difficult to play ; For to reduce her by main force, Is now in vain ; by fair means, worse ; 540

84 HUDIBRAS.

But worst of all to give her over,

Till she 's as desp'rate to recover :

For bad games are thrown up too soon,

Until they 're never to be won ;

But since I have no other course, 545

But is as bad t' attempt, or worse,

He that complies against his will,

Is of his own opinion still,

Which he may adhere to, yet disown,

For reasons to himself best known ; sso

But 'tis not to b' avoided now,

For Sidrophel resolves to sue ;

Whom I must answer, or begin,

Inevitably, first with him ;

For I 've receiv'd advertisement, 555

By times enough of his intent ;

And knowing he that first complains

Th' advantage of the business gains ;

For courts of Justice understand

The plaintiff to be th' eldest hand ; 560

Who what he pleases may aver,

The other nothing till he swear ;

Is freely admitted to all grace,

And lawful favour, by his place ;

And, for his bringing custom in, 565

Has all advantages to win :

I, who resolve to oversee

No lucky opportunity,

Will go to counsel, to advise

Wrhich way t' encounter, or surprise ; 570

And, after long consideration,

Have found out one to fit th' occasion,

Most apt for what I have to do,

PART III. CANTO III. 85

As counsellor, and justice too.

And truly so, no doubt, he was, o7">

A lawyer fit for such a case, An old dull sot, who told the clock For many years at Bridewell-dock, At Westminster, and Hicks's-hall, And hiccius-doccius play'd in all ; ,-so

Where, in all governments and times, H' had been both friend and foe to crimes, And us'd two equal ways of gaining, By hind'ring justice, or maintaining : To many a whore gave privilege, 535

And whipp'd, for want of quarterage ; Cart-loads of bawds to prison sent For being behind a fortnight's rent ; And many a trusty pimp and crony To Puddle-dock, for want of money : 590

Engag'd the constable to seize All those that would not break the peace ; Nor give him back his own foul words, Though sometimes commoners, or lords, And kept 'em prisoners of course, 595

For being sober at ill hours ; That in the morning he might free Or bind 'em over for his fee. Made monsters fine, and puppet-plays, For leave to practise in their ways ; coo

Farm'd out all cheats, and went a-share With th' headborough and scavenger ; And made the dirt i' th' streets compound For taking up the public ground ; The kennel, and the king's highway, cos

For being unmolested, pay ;

86 HUDIBRAS.

Let out the stocks, and whipping-post,

And cage, to those that gave him most;

Impos'd a tax on bakers' ears,

And, for false weights, on chandelers ; eio

Made victuallers and vintners fine

For arbitrary ale and wine ;

But was a kind and constant friend

To all that regularly' offend ;

As residentiary bawds, eis

And brokers that receive stol'n goods ;

That cheat in lawful mysteries,

And pay church duties and his fees ;

But was implacable and awkward

To all that interlop'd and hawker'd. C20

To this brave man the Knight repairs For counsel in his law-affairs ; And found him mounted, in his pew, With books and money plac'd, for shew, Like nest-eggs, to make clients lay, 625

And for his false opinion pay : To whom the Knight, with comely grace, Put off his hat, to put his case ; Which he as proudly entertain'd As th' other courteously strain'd ; eso

And, t' assure him 'twas not that He look'd for, bid him put on 's hat.

Quoth he, There is one Sidrophel, Whom I have cudgel'd — Very well. — And now he brags to 've beaten me — 635

Better and better still, quoth he — And vows to stick me to a wall Where'er he meets me — Best of all. — 619 VAK. 'Auker'd.'

PART III. CANTO III. 87

'Tis true, the knave has taken 's oath

That I robb'd him — Well done, in troth — cuo

When h' has confess'd he stole my cloak,

And pick'd my fob, and what he took ;

Which was the cause that made me bang him,

And take my goods again — Marry, hang him. —

Now, whether I should before -hand 645

Swear he robb'd me ? — I understand —

Or bring my action of conversion

And trover for my goods ? — Ah, whoreson —

Or if 'tis better to indict

And bring him to his trial ? — Right — 650

Prevent what he designs to do,

And swear for th' state against him ? — True. —

Or whether he that is defendant

In this case has the better end on 't ;

Who, putting in a new cross-bill, ess

May traverse the action ? — Better still. —

Then there 's a lady too — Aye, marry —

That 's easily prov'd accessary ;

A widow, who, by solemn vows

Contracted to me for my spouse, eeo

Combin'd with him to break her word,

And has abetted all — Good Lord ! —

Suborn'd th' aforesaid Sidrophel

To tamper with the dev'l of hell;

Who put me into a horrid fear, 665

Fear of my life — Make that appear —

Made an assault with fiends and men

Upon my body — Good agen —

And kept me in a deadly fright

And false imprisonment all night ; cro

Meanwhile they robb'd me, and my horse,

88 HUDIBRAS.

And stole my saddle — Worse and worse — And made me mount upon the bare ridge, T' avoid a wretcheder miscarriage.

Sir (quoth the lawyer), not to flatter ye, 675 You have as good and fair a battery As heart can wish, and need not shame The proudest man alive to claim : For if they 've us'd you as you say, Marry, quoth I, God give you joy; eso

I would it were my case, I 'd give More than I '11 say, or you '11 believe : j would so trounce her, and her purse, I 'd make her kneel for better or worse ;

For matrimony and hanging, here, ess

Both go by destiny so clear,

That you as sure may pick and choose,

As cross I win and pile you lose :

And, if I durst, I would advance

As much in ready maintenance 690

As upon any case I 've known ;

But we that practice dare not own :

The law severely contrabands

Our taking bus'ness off men's hands ;

'Tis common barratry, that bears 695

Point-blank an action 'gainst our ears.

And crops them till there is not leather

To stick a pen in, left of either ;

For which some do the summer-sault,

And o'er the bar, like tumblers, vault : TOO

But you may swear, at any rate,

Things not in nature, for the state ;

For, in all courts of justice here,

A witness is not said to swear,

PART III. CANTO III. 89

But make oath, that is, in plain terms, 705

To forge whatever he affirms.

I thank you, (quoth the Knight.) for that, Because 'tis to my purpose pat — For Justice, though she 's painted blind. Is to the weaker side inclin'd, 71.0

Like Charity ; else right and wrong Could never hold it out so long, And, like blind Fortune, with a sleight, Convey men's interest and right From Stiles's pocket into Nokes's, 715

As easily as hocus-pocus ; Plays fast and loose, makes men obnoxious, And clear again, like hiccius-doccius. Then, whether you would take her life, Or but recover her for your wife, 720

Or be content with what she has, And let all other matters pass, The business to the law 's alone, The proof is all it looks upon ; And you can want no witnesses 725

To swear to any thing you please, That hardly get their mere expenses By th' labour of their consciences, Or letting out to hire their ears To affidavit-customers, 730

At inconsiderable values, To serve for jurymen, or tales, Although retain'd in th' hardest matters Of trustees and administrators.

For that (quoth he) let me alone ; 730

We 've store of such, and all our own, 7J3 VAR. 'All one.'

90 HUDIBRAS.

Bred up and tutor'd by our Teachers The ablest of our conscience-stretchers.

That 's well (quoth he), but I should guess, By weighing all advantages, 710

Your surest way is first to pitch On Bongey, for a water- witch ; And when ye 've hang'd the conjurer, Ye Ve time enough to deal with her. In th' int'rim spare for no trepans 745

To draw her neck into the banns ; Ply her with love-letters and billets, And bait 'em well, for quirks and quillets, With trains t' inveigle and surprise Her heedless answers and replies ; 750

And if she miss the mouse-trap lines, They '11 serve for other by-designs ; And make an artist understand To copy out her seal or hand ; Or find void places in the paper 755

To steal in something to entrap her ; Till with her worldly goods and body, Spite of her heart, she has endow'd ye : Retain all sorts of witnesses, That ply i' th' Temple under trees, 760

Or walk the round, with Knights o' th' Posts,

742 Bongey was a Franciscan, and lived towards the end of the thirteenth century, a doctor of divinity in Oxford, and a particular acquaintance of Friar Bacon's. In that ignorant age, every thing that seemed extraordinary was reputed magic, and so both Bacon and Bongey went under the im putation of studying the black art. Bongey also publishing a treatise of natural magic, confirmed some well-meaning credulous people in this opinion : but it was altogether groundless ; for Bongey was chosen provincial of his order, being a person of most excellent parts and piety.

PART III. CANTO III. 91

About the cross-legg'd knights, their hosts ;

Or wait for customers between

The pillar-rows in Lincoln's Inn ;

Where vouchers, forgers, common-bail, 765

And affidavit-men, ne'er fail

T' expose to sale all sorts of oaths,

According to their ears and clothes,

Their only necessary tools,

Besides the Gospel, and their souls ; 770

And when y' are furnish'd with all purveys

I shall be ready at your service.

I would not give (quote Hudibras) A straw to understand a case, Without the admirable skill 775

To wind and manage it at will ; To veer, and tack, and steer a cause Against the weather-guage of laws, And ring the changes upon cases, As plain as noses upon faces, 730

As you have well instructed me, For which you 've earn'd (here 'tis) your fee. I long to practise your advice, And try the subtle artifice ;

To bait a letter, as you bid : — 7»5

As, not long after, thus he did ; For, having pump'd up all his wit, And humm'd upon it, thus he writ.

782 The beggar's prayer for the lawyer would have suited this gentleman very well. See the works of J. Taylor, the Water poet, p. 101. " May the terms be everlasting to thee, thou man of tongue ; and may contentions grow and multiply ! may actions beget actions, and cases engender cases, as thick as hops ; may every day of the year be a Shrove-Tuesday ; let proclamations forbid fighting, to increase actions of battery ; that thy cassock may be three-piled, and the welts of thy gown may not grow threadbare !"

92

AX HEROICAL EPISTLE* OF HUDIBRAS TO HIS LADY.

I WHO was once as great as Caesar, Am now reduc'd to Nebuchadnezzar ; And from as fam'd a conqueror As ever took degree in war, Or did his exercise in battle, 5

By you turn'd out to grass with cattle : For since I am deny'd access To all my earthly happiness, Am fallen from the paradise Of your good graces, and fair eyes ; 10

Lost to the world, and you, I'm sent To everlasting banishment, Where all the hopes I had to 've won Your heart, being dash'd, will break my own.

Yet if you were not so severe 15

To pass your doom before you hear, You'd find, upon my just defence, How much ye 'vo wrong'd my innocence.

* This Epistle was to be the result of all the fair methods the Knight was to use in gaining the Widow : it therefore required all his wit arid dexterity to draw from this artful Lady an unwary answer. If the plot succeeded, he was to compel her immediately, by law, to a compliance with his desires. But the Lady was too cunning to give him such a handle as he longed for : on the contrary, her answer silenced all his pretensions.

IIUDIBRAS TO HIS LADY. 93

That once I made a vow to you,

Which yet is unperform'd, 'tis true ; 20

But not because it is unpaid,

"Tis violated, though delay 'd :

Or, if it were, it is no fault

So heinous as you 'd have it thought,

To undergo the loss of ears, 25

Like vulgar hackney perjurers :

For there 's a difference in the case

Between the noble and the base ;

Who always are observ'd t' have done 't

Upon as different an account ; so

The one for great and weighty cause,

To salve, in honour, ugiy flaws ;

For none are like to do it sooner

Than those who 're nicest of their honour :

The other, for base gain and pay, SG

Forswear and perjure by the day,

And make th' exposing and retailing

Their souls and consciences, a calling.

It is no scandal nor aspersion Upon a great and noble person, 40

To say he naturally abhorr'd Th' old-fashion'd trick to keep his word, Though 'tis perfidiousness and shame, In meaner men, to do the same : For to be able to forget 45

Is found more useful to the great Than gout, or deafness, or bad eyes, To make them pass for wondrous wise. But though the law on perjurers Inflicts the forfeiture of ears, 50

It is not just, that does exempt

94 HUDIBRAS TO HIS LADY.

The guilty, and punish th' innocent ;

To make the ears repair the wrong

Committed by th' ungovern'd tongue ;

And, when one member is forsworn, £5

Another to be cropt or torn.

And if you should, as you design,

By course of law recover mine,

You 're like, if you consider right,

To gain but little honour by 't : eo

For he that for his lady's sake

Lays down his life, or limbs, at stake,

Does not so much deserve her favour,

As he that pawns his soul to have her.

This ye 've acknowledg'd I have done, <w

Although you now disdain to own ;

But sentence what you rather ought

T' esteem good service than a fault.

Besides, oaths are not bound to bear

That literal sense the words infer ; 70

But, by the practice of the age,

Are to be judg'd how far th' engage ;

And where the sense by custom 's check't,

Are found void and of none effect •

For no man takes or keeps a vow 75

But just as he sees others do ;

Nor are th' oblig'd to be so brittle

As not to yield and bow a little :

For as best temper'd blades are found,

Before they break, to bend quite round ; so

So truest oaths are still most tough,

And, though they bow, are breaking proof.

Then wherefore should they not b' allow'd

In love a greater latitude ?

HUDIBRAS TO HIS LADY. 95

For as the law of arms approves 80

All ways to conquest, so should love's ;

And not be ty'd to true or false,

But make that justest that prevails :

For how can that which is above

All empire, high and mighty love, £0

Submit its great prerogative

To any other pow'r alive ?

Shall Love, that to no crown gives place,

Become the subject of a case ?

The fundamental law of Nature 95

Be over-ruTd by those made after ?

Commit the censure of its cause

To any but its own great laws ?

Love, that 's the world's preservative,

That keeps all souls of things alive ; too

Controls the mighty pow'r of Fate,

And gives mankind a longer date ;

The life of Nature, that restores

As fast as Time and Death devours ;

To whose free gift the world does owe 105

Not only earth, but heaven too :

For love 's the only trade that 's driven,

The interest of state in heaven,

Which nothing but the soul of man

Is capable to entertain. 110

For what can earth produce but love,

To represent the joys above ?

Or who but lovers can converse,

Like angels, by the eye -discourse ?

Address and compliment by vision, 115

Make love, and court by intuition ?

And burn in am'rous flames as fierce

96 HUDIBRAS TO HIS LADY.

As those celestial ministers ?

Then how can any thing offend

In order to so great an end ? 120

Or Heav'n itself a sin resent

That for its own supply was meant ?

That merits, in a kind mistake,

A pardon for th' offence's sake ?

Or if it did not, but the cause 125

Were left to th' injury of the laws,

What tyranny can disapprove

There should be equity in love ?

For laws that are inanimate,

And feel no sense of love, or hate ; icO

That have no passion of their own,

Nor pity to be wrought upon,

Are only proper to inflict

Revenge on criminals as strict :

But to have power to forgive, 135

Is empire and prerogative ;

And 'tis in crowns a nobler gem

To grant a pardon than condemn.

Then since so few do what they ought,

Tis great t' indulge a well-meant fault ; HO

For why should he who made address,

All humble ways, without success,

And met with nothing in return

But insolence, affronts, and scorn,

Not strive by wit to countermine, us

And bravely carry his design ?

He who was us'd so unlike a soldier,

Blown up with philtres of love-powder ;

And, after letting blood, and purging,

Condemned to voluntary scourging ; loo

HUDIBRAS TO HIS LADY. 97

Alarm'd with many a horrid fright,

And claw'd by goblins in the night ;

Insulted on, revil'd, and jeer'd,

With rude invasion of his beard ;

And when our sex was foully scandal'd, 155

As foully by the rabble handled ;

Attack'd by despicable foes,

And drubb'd with mean and vulgar blows ;

And, after all, to be debarr'd

So much as standing on his guard ; ieo

When horses, being spurr'd and prick'd,

Have leave to kick for being kick'd ?

Or why should you, whose mother-wits Are furnish'd with all perquisites ; That with your breeding teeth begin, 165

And nursing babies, that lie in, B' allow'd to put all tricks upon Our cully sex, and we use none ? We, who have nothing but frail vows, Against your stratagems t' oppose, 170

Or oaths more feeble than your own, By which we are no less put down ? You wound, like Parthians, while you fly, And kill with a retreating eye ; Retire the more, the more we press, 175

To draw us into ambushes : As pirates all false colours wear, T' intrap, th' unwary mariner ; So women, to surprise us, spread The borrow'd flags of white and red ; iso

Display 'em thicker on their cheeks, Than their old grandmothers, the Picts ; And raise more devils with their looks,

VOL. IT. n

98 HUD1BRAS TO HIS LADY.

Than conjurers' less subtle books :

Lay trains of amorous intrigues, 135

In tow'rs, and curls, and periwigs,

With greater art and cunning rear'd,

Than Philip Nye's thanksgiving beard ;

Prepost'rously t' entice and gain

Those to adore 'em they disdain : 190

And only draw them in to clog,

With idle names, a catalogue.

A lover is, the more he 's brave, T' his mistress but the more a slave, And whatsoever she commands, 195

Becomes a favour from her hands ; Which he's oblig'd t' obey, and must, Whether it be unjust or just. Then when he is compell'd by her T' adventures he would else forbear, 200

Who, with his honour, can withstand, Since force is greater than command ? And when necessity 's obey'd, Nothing can be unjust or bad : And therefore when the mighty pow'rs 205

Of Love, our great ally, and your's, Join'd forces, not to be withstood By frail enamour'd flesh and blood, All I have done unjust or ill, Was in obedience to your will ; 210

And all the blame that can be due Falls to your cruelty, and you. Nor are those scandals I confest, Against my will and interest, More than is daily done, of course, 215

By all men, when they 're under force :

HUDJBRAS TO HIS LADY. 99

Whence some, upon the rack, confess

What th' hangman and their prompters please ;

But are no sooner out of pain,

Than they deny it all again. 220

But when the devil turns confessor,

Truth is a crime, he takes no pleasure

To hear or pardon, like the founder

Of liars, whom they all claim under :

And therefore when I told him none, 225

I think it was the wiser done.

Nor am I without precedent,

The first that on th' adventure went ;

All mankind ever did of course,

And daily does the same, or worse. 230

For what romance can shew a lover,

That had a lady to recover,

And did not steer a nearer course,

To fall aboard in his amours ?

And what at first was held a crime, 235

Has turn'd to hon'rable in time.

To what a height did infant Rome, By ravishing of women, come ? When men upon their spouses seiz'd, And freely marry'd where they pleas'd, 240

They ne'er forswore themselves, nor ly'd, Nor, in the mind they were in, died ; Nor took the pains t' address and sue, Nor play'd the masquerade to woo : Disdain'd to stay for friends' consents, 245

Nor juggled about settlements ; Did need no license, nor no priest, Nor friends, nor kindred, to assist, 230 VAK. « Daily do.'

100 HUDIBRAS TO HIS LADY.

Nor lawyers, to join land and money

In th' holy state of matrimony, 250

Before they settled hands and hearts,

Till alimony or death departs ;

Nor would endure to stay until

Th' had got the very bride's good will,

But took a wise and shorter course 200

To win the ladies, — downright force ;

And justly made 'em prisoners then,

As they have, often since, us men,

With acting plays, and dancing jigs,

The luckiest of all Love's intrigues ; 260

And when they had them at their pleasure,

They talk'd of love and flames at leisure ;

For after matrimony 's over,

He that holds out but half a lover,

Deserves, for every minute, more 265

Than half a year of love before ;

For which the dames, in contemplation

Of that best way of application,

Prov'd nobler wives than e'er were known,

By suit, or treaty, to be won ; 270

And such as all posterity

CouH never equal, nor come nigh.

For women first were made for men, Not men for them. — It follows, then, That men have right to ev'ry one, 275

And they no freedom of their own ; And therefore men have pow'r to choose, But they no charter to refuse. Hence 'tis apparent that, what course Soe'er we take to your amours, 280

Though by the indirectest way,

HUDIBRAS TO IHS LADY. 101

"Tis no injustice nor foul play ;

And that you ought to take that course,

As wo take you, for better or worse,

And gratefully submit to those 285

Who you, before another, chose.

For why should ev'ry savage beast

Exceed his great Lord's interest ?

Have freer pow'r than he, in Grace

And Nature, o'er the creature has ? 290

Because the laws he since has made

Have cut off all the pow'r he had ;

Retrench'd the absolute dominion

That Nature gave him over women ;

When all his pow'r will not extend 295

One law of Nature to suspend ;

And but to offer to repeal

The smallest clause, is to repel.

This, if men rightly understood

Their privilege, they would make good, soo

And not, like sots, permit their wives

T' encroach on their prerogatives ;

For which sin they deserve to be

Kept, as they are, in slavery :

And this some precious Gifted Teachers, son

Unrev'rently reputed Leachers,

And disobey'd in making love,

Have vow'd to all the world to prove,

101 30(J Sir Roger L'Estrange (' Key to Hudibras') mentions Mr. Case as one ; and Mr. Butler, in his Posthumous works,* mentions Dr. Burgess and Hugh Peters ; and the writer of a

* It may be proper to observe here, once for all, that Butler left no genuine poems besides those in the possession of Mr. Longueville, and published by Mr. Thyer in 1759, which form the subsequent part of this volume.

102 HUDIBRAS TO HIS LADY.

And make you suffer, as you ought,

For that uncharitable fault : sio

But I forget myself, and rove

Beyond th' instructions of my love.

Forgive me, Fair, and only blame Th' extravagancy of my flame, Since 'tis too much at once to shew sis

Excess of love and temper too ; All I have said that 's bad and true, Was never meant to aim at you, Who have so sov'reign a control O'er that poor slave of yours, my soul, 320

That, rather than to forfeit you, Has ventur'd loss of heaven too ; Both with an equal pow'r possest, To render all that serve you blest ; But none like him, who 's destin'd either 325

To have or lose you both together ; And if you '11 but this fault release (For so it must be, since you please), I'll pay down all that vow and more, Which you commanded, and I swore, sso

And expiate, upon my skin, Th' arrears in full of all my sin ; For 'tis but just that I should pay Th' accruing penance for delay,

Letter to the Earl of Pembroke, 1647, p. 9, observes of Peters, " That it was offered to be publicly proved that he got both mother and daughter with child." "I am glad (says an anonymous person, Thurloe's ' State Papers,' vol. iv. p. 734) to hear that Mr. Peters shews his head again ; it was re ported here (Amsterdam, May 5, 1655) that he was found with a whore a-bed, and he grew mad, and said nothing but 0 blood, 0 blood, that troubles me."

HUDIBRAS TO HIS LADY. 103

Which shall be done, until it move 335

Your equal pity and your love.

The Knight, perusing this Epistle, Believ'd h' had brought her to his whistle, And read it, like a jocund lover, With great applause t' himself twice over ; 340 Subscrib'd his name, but at a fit And humble distance, to his wit, And dated it with wondrous art, ' Giv'n from the bottom of his heart ;' Then seal'd it with his coat of love, 345

A smoking faggot — and above, Upon a scroll — I burn and weep, And near it — For her Ladyship, Of all her sex most excellent, These to her gentle hands present. — 350

Then gave it to his faithful Squire, With lessons how t' observe and eye her.

She first consider'd which was better, To send it back, or burn the letter : But guessing that it might import, 355

Though nothing else, at least her sport, She open'd it, and read it out, With many a smile and leering flout ; Resolv'd to answer it in kind, And thus perform'd what she design'd. seo

104

THE LADY'S ANSWER TO THE KNIGHT.

THAT you 're a beast, and turn'd to grass, Is no strange news, nor ever was, At least to me, who once, you know, Did from the pound replevin you, When both your sword and spurs were won 5 In combat, by an Amazon ; That sword that did, like Fate, determine Th' inevitable death of vermin, And never dealt its furious blows, But cut the throats of pigs and cows, 10

By Trulla was, in single fight, Disarm'd and wrested from its Knight, Your heels degraded of your spurs, And in the stocks close prisoners, Where still they'd lain, in base restraint, is

If I, in pity' of your complaint, Had not, on honourable conditions, Releas'd 'em from the worst of prisons ; And what return that favour met You cannot (though you would) forget ; 20

When, being free, you strove t' evade The oaths you had in prison made ; Forswore yourself, and first deny'd it, But after own'd, and justify'd it ; And when y' had falsely broke one vow, 25

Absolv'd yourself by breaking two : For while you sneakingly submit,

THE LADY'S ANSWER. 105

And beg for pardon at our feet,

Discourag'd by your guilty fears,

To hope for quarter for your ears, 30

And doubting 'twas in vain to sue,

You claim us boldly as your due ;

Declare that treachery and force,

To deal with us, is th' only course ;

We have no title nor pretence 85

To body, soul, or conscience,

But ought to fall to that man's share

That claims us for his proper ware :

These are the motives which, t' induce,

Or fright us into love, you use ; 40

A pretty new way of gallanting,

Between soliciting and ranting !

Like sturdy beggars, that intreat

For charity at once, and threat.

But since you undertake to prove 45

Your own propriety in love,

As if we were but lawful prize

In war between two enemies ;

Or forfeitures, which ev'ry lover,

That would but sue for, might recover ; 50

It is not hard to understand

The myst'ry of this bold demand,

That cannot at our persons aim,

But something capable of claim.

'Tis not those paltry counterfeit 65

French stones, which in our eyes you set, But our right diamonds, that inspire And set your amorous hearts on fire ; Nor can those false St. Martin's beads, Which on our lips you lay for reds, eo

106 THE LADY'S ANSWER.

And make us wear, like Indian Dames,

Add fuel to your scorching flames ;

But those true rubies of the rock,

Which in our cabinets we lock.

'Tis not those orient pearls, our teeth, cs

That you are so transported with ;

But those we wear about our necks,

Produce those amorous effects.

Nor is 't those threads of gold, our hair,

The periwigs you make us wear ; 70

But those bright guineas in our chests,

That light the wildfire in your breasts.

These love-tricks I 've been vers'd in so,

That all their sly intrigues I know,

And can unriddle, by their tones, 73

Their mystic cabals, and jargones ;

Can tell what passions, by their sounds,

Pine for the beauties of my grounds ;

What raptures fond and amorous,

0' th' charms and graces of my house ; so

What ecstacy and scorching flame,

Burns for my money in my name ;

What from th' unnatural desire

To beasts and cattle, takes its fire ;

What tender sigh, and trickling tear, 85

Longs for a thousand pounds a-year ;

And languishing transports are fond

Of statute, mortgage, bill, and bond.

These are th' attracts which most men fall Enamour'd at first sight withal ; 90

To these th' address with serenades, And court with balls and masquerades ; And yet, for all the yearning pain

107

Ye Ve suffer'd for their loves in vain,

I fear they'll prove so nice and coy, 95

To have, and t' hold, and to enjoy,

That, all your oaths and labour lost,

They '11 ne'er turn Ladies of the Post.

This is not meant to disapprove

Your judgment, in your choice of love ; ico

Which is so wise, the greatest part

Of mankind study 't as an art ;

For love should, like a deodand,

Still fall to th' owner of the land ;

And where there 's substance for its ground, 105

Cannot but be more firm and sound,

Than that which has the slighter basis

Of airy virtue, wit, and graces ;

Which is of such thin subtlety,

It steals and creeps in at the eye, no

And, as it can't endure to stay,

Steals out again as nice a way.

But love, that its extraction owns From solid gold and precious stones, Must, like its shining parents, prove iis

As solid, and as glorious love. Hence 'tis you have no way t' express Our charms and graces but by these ; For what are lips, and eyes, and teeth, Which beauty' invades and conquers with, 120 But rubies, pearls, and diamonds, With which a philtre love commands ?

This is the way all parents prove In managing their children's love, That force 'em t' intermarry and wed, 125

As if th' were burying of the dead ;

108 THE LADY'S ANSWER.

Cast earth to earth, as in the grave,

To join in wedlock all they have ;

And, when th' settlement 's in force,

Take all the rest for better or worse ; iso

For money has a power above

The stars, and Fate, to manage love ;

Whose arrows, learned poets hold,

That never miss, are tipp'd with gold.

And though some say the parents' claims iss

To make love in their children's names,

Who, many times, at once provide

The nurse, the husband, and the bride ;

Feel darts, and charms, attracts, and flames,

And woo, and contract, in their names ; HO

And, as they christen, use to marry 'em,

And, like their gossips, answer for 'em,

Is not to give in matrimony,

But sell and prostitute for money ;

'Tis better than their own betrothing, 115

Who often do 't for worse than nothing ;

And, when they're at their own dispose,

With greater disadvantage choose.

All this is right ; but for the course

You take to do 't, by fraud or force, 150

'Tis so ridiculous, as soon

As told, 'tis never to be done,

No more than setters can betray,

That tell what tricks they are to play.

Marriage, at best, is but a vow, 155

Which all men either break or bow ;

Then what will those forbear to do,

Who perjure when they do but woo?

Such as before-hand swear and lie,

THE LADY'S ANSWER. 109

For earnest to their treachery, ieo

And, rather than a crime confess,

With greater strive to make it less :

Like thieves, who, after sentence past,

Maintain their innocence to the last,

And when their crimes were made appear 165

As plain as witnesses can swear ;

Yet, when the wretches come to die,

Will take upon their death a lie.

Nor are the virtues you confess'd

T' your ghostly father, as you guess'd, 170

So slight as to be justify'd,

By being as shamefully deny'd ;

As if you thought your word would pass,

Point-blank, on both sides of a case ;

Or credit were not to be lost us

B' a brave Knight-errant of the Post,

That eats perfidiously his word,

And swears his ears through a two-inch board ;

Can own the same thing, and disown,

And perjure booty pro and con ; iso

Can make the Gospel serve his turn,

And help him out, to be forsworn ;

When 'tis laid hands upon, and kiss'd,

183 The way of taking an oath is by laying the right hand upon the four Evangelists, which denominates it a corporal oath. This method was not always complied with in those iniquitous times. In the trial of Mr. Christopher Love, in the year 1651, one Jaquel, an evidence, laid his hand upon his buttons, and not upon the book, when the oath was tendered him; and, when he was questioned for it, he answered, " I am as good as under an oath." In the trial of the brave Colonel Morrice (who kept Pontefract Castle for the King) at York, by Thorp and Puleston, when he challenged one Brook, his professed enemy, the Court answered,

110 THE LADY'S ANSWER.

To be betray'd and sold, like Christ.

These are the virtues in whose name 185

A right to all the world you claim,

And boldly challenge a dominion,

In Grace and Nature, o'er all women ;

Of whom no less will satisfy,

Than all the sex, your tyranny ; 190

Although you '11 find it a hard province,

With all your crafty frauds and covins,

To govern such a numerous crew,

Who, one by one, now govern you ;

For if you all were Solomons, 195

And wise and great as he was once,

You '11 find they 're able to subdue

(As they did him) and baffle you.

And if you are impos'd upon, 'Tis by your own temptation done, 200

That with your ignorance invite, And teach us how to use the sleight ; For when we find ye 're still more taken With false attracts of our own making, Swear that 's a rose, and that 's a stone, 205

Like sots, to us that laid it on, And what we did but slightly prime, Most ignorantly daub in rhyme, You force us, in our own defences, To copy beams and influences ; 210

To lay perfections on the graces, And draw attracts upon our faces,

He spoke too late ; Brook was sworn already. Brook being asked the question, whether he were sworn or no, replied, " He had not yet kissed the book." The Court answered, That was no matter; it was but a ceremony; he was recorded sworn, and there was no speaking against a record.

THE LADY'S ANSWER. Ill

And, in compliance to your wit,

Your own false jewels counterfeit :

For, by the practice of those arts, 213

We gain a greater share of hearts ;

And those deserve in reason most,

That greatest pains and study cost :

For great perfections are, like heaven,

Too rich a present to be given ; 220

Nor are those master-strokes of beauty

To be perform'd without hard duty,

Which, when they 're nobly done, and well,

The simple natural excel.

How fair and sweet the planted rose, 225

Beyond the wild, in hedges grows !

For, without art, the noblest seeds

Of flowers degenerate into weeds :

How dull and rugged, ere 'tis gro ind

And polish'd, looks a diamond ! 230

Though Paradise were e'er so fair,

It was not kept so without care.

The whole world, without art and dress,

Would be but one great wilderness ;

And mankind but a savage herd, 235

For all that nature has conferr'd :

This does but rough-hew and design,

Leaves Art to polish and refine.

Though women first were made for men,

Yet men were made for them agen : 240

For when (out-witted by his wife)

Man first turn'd tenant but for life,

If women had not interven'd,

How soon had mankind had an end !

And that it is in being yet, 245

112 THE LADY'S ANSWER.

To us alone you are in debt.

And where 's your liberty of choice,

And our unnatural No-voice ?

Since all the privilege you boast,

And falsely usurp'd, or vainly lost, 250

Is now our right, to whose creation

You owe your happy restoration.

And if we had not weighty cause

To not appear, in making laws,

We could, in spite of all your tricks, 255

And shallow formal politics,

Force you our managements t' obey,

As we to yours (in show) give way.

Hence 'tis that, while you vainly strive

T' advance your high prerogative, 260

You basely, after all your braves,

Submit, and own yourselves our slaves ;

And 'cause we do not make it known,

Nor publicly our int'rests own,

Like sots, suppose we have no shares 2tw

In ordering you and your affairs,

When all your empire and command

You have from us, at second-hand ;

As if a pilot, that appears

To sit still only, while he steers, 270

And does not make a noise and stir,

Like every common mariner,

Knew nothing of the card, nor star,

And did not guide the man-of-war :

Nor we, because we don't appear -75

In Councils, do not govern there ;

While, like the mighty Prester John,

m Prester John, an absolute prince, emperor of Abys sinia, or Ethiopia. One of them is reported to have had

THE LADY'S ANSWER. 113

Whose person none dares look upon,

But is preserved in close disguise

From being made cheap to vulgar eyes, 280

W enjoy as large a pow'r, unseen,

To govern him, as he does men ;

And, in the right of our Pope Joan,

Make emperors at our feet fall down ;

Or Joan de Pucelle's braver name, 285

Our right to arms and conduct claim ;

Who, though a spinster, yet was able

To serve France for a Grand Constable.

We make and execute all laws, Can judge the Judges and the Cause ; 290

Prescribe all rules of right or wrong, To th' long robe, and the longer tongue, 'Gainst which the world has no defence, But our more powerful eloquence. We manage things of greatest weight, 295

In all the world's affairs of state ; Are ministers of war and peace, That sway all nations how we please. We rule all churches and their flocks, Heretical and orthodox ; 300

And are the heavenly vehicles 0' th' spirits in all Conventicles : By us is all commerce and trade seventy kings for his vassals, and so superb and arrogant, that none durst look upon him without his permission.

285 Joan of Arc, called also ' The Pucelle,' or ' Maid of Orleans.'

288 All this is a satire on King Charles II. who was governed so much by his mistresses : particularly this line seems to allude to his French mistress, the Duchess of Ports mouth, given by that Court, whom she served in the impor tant post of governing King Charles as they directed.

YOL. II. I

114 THE LADY'S ANSWER.

Improv'd, and manag'd, and decay'd ;

For nothing can go off so well, sos

Nor bears that price, as what we sell.

We rule in every public meeting,

And make men do what we judge fitting;

Are magistrates in all great towns,

Where men do nothing but wear gowns. sio

We make the man-of-war strike sail,

And to our braver conduct veil,

And when h' has chas'd his enemies,

Submit to us upon his knees.

Is there an officer of state, 315

Untimely rais'd, or magistrate,

That 's haughty and imperious ?

He 's but a journeyman to us,

That, as he gives us cause to do 't,

Can keep him in, or turn him out. 320

We are your guardians, that increase,

Or waste, your fortunes how we please ;

And, as you humour us, can deal

In all your matters, ill or well.

'Tis we that can dispose, alone, 325

Whether your heirs shall be your own,

To whose integrity you must,

In spite of all your caution, trust :

And, 'less you fly beyond the seas,

Can fit you with what heirs we please ; sso

And force you t' own them, though begotten

By French valets, or Irish footmen.

Nor can the rigorousest course

Prevail, unless to make us worse ;

Who still, the harsher we are us'd, 335

Are further off from being reduc'd,

THE LADY'S ANSWER. 115

And scorn t' abate, for any ills,

The least punctilios of our wills.

Force does but whet our wits t' apply

Arts, born with us, for remedy, sw

Which all your politics, as yet,

Have ne'er been able to defeat :

For, when ye' ve tried all sorts of ways,

What fools d' we make of you in plays ?

While all the favours we afford, 345

Are but to girt you with the sword,

To fight our battles in our steads,

And have your brains beat out o' your heads ;

Encounter, in despite of Nature,

And fight, at once, with fire and water, 350

With pirates, rocks, and storms, and seas,

Our pride and vanity t' appease ;

Kill one another, and cut throats,

For our good graces and best thoughts ;

To do your exercise for honour, 355

And have your brains beat out the sooner ;

Or crack'd, as learnedly, upon

Things that are never to be known ;

And still appear the more industrious

The more your projects are preposterous ; 360

To square the circle of the arts,

And run stark mad to show your parts ;

Expound the oracle of laws,

And turn them which way we see cause j

Be our solicitors and agents, 365

And stand for us in all engagements.

And these are all the mighty pow'ra You vainly boast to cry down ours, And what in real value 's wanting,

116 THE LADY'S ANSWER.

Supply with vapouring and ranting : 370

Because yourselves are terrify'd,

And stoop to one another's pride,

Believe we have as little wit

To be out-hector'd, and submit ;

By your example, lose that right 375

In treaties, which we gain'd in fight ;

And, terrify'd into an awe,

Pass on ourselves a Salique law ;

Or, as some nations use, give place,

And truckle to your mighty race ; sso

Let men usurp th' unjust dominion,

As if they were the better women.

THE KEMAINS OF BUTLER

PREFACE.

IT would be very unjust to the memory of a writer so much and so justly esteemed as Butler, to suppose it necessary to make any formal apology for the publication of these ' Remains.' Whatever is the genuine performance of a genius of his class cannot fail of recommending itself to every reader of taste ; and all that can be required from the Publisher is to satisfy the world that it is not imposed upon by false and spurious pretensions.

This has already been attempted in the printed proposals for the subscription ; but as the perishing form of a loose paper seems too frail a monument to preserve a testimony of so much importance, it can not, I hope, be judged impertinent to repeat the sub stance of what I observed upon that occasion — that the Manuscripts, from which this work is printed, are Butler's own hand-writing, as evidently appears from some original letters of his, found amongst them — that, upon his death, they fell into the hands of his good friend Mr. W. Longueville, of the Temple, who, as the writer of Butler's Life informs us, was at the charge of burying him — that, upon Mr. Longue- ville's decease, they became the property of his son, the late Charles Longueville, Esq. who bequeathed them, at his death, to John Clarke, Esq. and that this

120 PREFACE.

gentleman has been prevailed upon to part with them, and favoured me with an authority to insert the following certificate of their authenticity.

" I do hereby certify, that the papers now proposed to be published by Mr. Thyer, are the 'original manuscripts' of Mr. Samuel Butler, author of Hudi- bras, and were bequeathed to me by the late Charles Longueville, Esq.

JOHN CLARKE." Walgherton, Cheshire, Nov. 20, 1754.

Although, from evidence of such a nature, there cannot remain the least doubt about the genuineness of this work, and it be very certain that everything in it is the performance of Butler, yet it must be owned, at the same time, that there is not the same degree of perfection and exactness in all the composi tions here printed. Some are finished with the ut most accuracy, and were fairly transcribed for the press, as far as can be judged from outward appear ance: others, though finished, and wrote with the same spirit and peculiar vein of humour which distin guishes him from all other writers, seem as if, upon a second review, he would have retouched and amended in some little particulars ; and some few are left un finished, or at least parts of them are lost or perished. This acknowledgment I think due to the Poet's cha racter and memory, and necessary to bespeak that candid allowance from the reader which the Posthu mous Works of every writer have a just claim to.

It is, I know, a common observation, that it is doing injustice to a departed genius to publish frag ments, or such pieces as he had not given the last hand to. Without controverting the justness of this remark in general, one may, I think, venture to affirm,

PREFACE. 121

that it is not to be extended to every particular case, and that a writer of so extraordinary and uncommon a turn as the author of Hudibras is not to be included under it. It would be a piece of foolish fondness to purchase at a great expense, or preserve with a par ticular care, the unfinished works of every tolerable painter ; and yet it is esteemed a mark of fine taste, to procure, at almost any price, the rough sketches and half-formed designs of a Raphael, a Rembrandt, or any celebrated master. If the elegant remains of a Greek or Roman statuary, though maimed and defective, are thought worthy of a place in the cabinets of the polite admirers of antiquity, and the learned world thinks itself obliged to laborious critics for handing down to us the half-intelligible scraps of an ancient classic ; no reason can, I think, be assigned why a genius of more modern date should not be entitled to the same privilege, except we will absurdly and enthusiastically fancy that time gives a value to writings, as well as to coins and medals. It may be added, also, that as Butler is not only excellent, but almost singular too, in his manner of writing, every thing of his must acquire a proportionable degree of value and curiosity.

I shall not longer detain the reader from better entertainment, by indulging my own sentiments upon these 'Remains ;' and shall rather choose to wait for the judgment of the Public, than impertinently to obtrude my own. It is enough for me that I have faithfully discharged the office of an Editor, and shall leave to future critics the pleasure of criticising and remarking, approving or condemning. The notes which I have given, the reader will find to be only such as were necessary to let him into the Author's meaning, by reciting and explaining some circum-

122 PREFACE.

stances, not generally known, to which he alludes ; and he cannot but observe that many more might have been added, had I given way to a fondness for scribbling, too common upon such occasions.

Although my Author stands in need of no apology for the appearance he is going to make in the follow ing sheets, the world may probably think that the Publisher does, for not permitting him to do it sooner. All that I have to say, and to persons of candour I need to say no more, is, that the delay has been owing to a bad state of health, and a consequent in disposition for a work of this nature, and not to indolence, or any selfish narrow views of my own.

[1757] [ROBERT THYER.]

123

THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON.'

ALEARN'D society of late, The glory of a foreign state, Agreed, upon a summer's night, To search the Moon by her own light ; To take an invent'ry of all s

Her real estate and personal ; And make an accurate survey Of all her lands, and how they lay, As true as that of Ireland, where The sly surveyors stole a shire : 10

T' observe her country, how 'twas planted. With what sh' abounded most, or wanted ; And make the proper'st observations For settling of new plantations, If the Society should incline is

T* attempt so glorious a design.

This was the purpose of their meeting, For which they chose a time as fitting, When, at the full, her radiant light And influence too were at their height. 20

And now the lofty tube, the scale With which they heav'n itself assail, Was mounted full against the Moon, And all stood ready to fall on :

* This Poem was intended by the Author for a satire upon the Royal Society, which, according to his opinion at least, ran too much, at that time, into the virtuoso taste, and a whimsical fondness for surprising and wonderful stories in natural history.

124 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON.

Impatient who should have the honour 25

To plant an ensign first upon her.

When one, who for his deep belief Was virtuoso then in chief, Approv'd the most profound, and wise, To solve impossibilities, 30

Advancing gravely, to apply To th' optic glass his judging eye, Cry'd, Strange ! — then reinforc'd his sight Against the Moon with all his might, And bent his penetrating brow, ss

As if he meant to gaze her through ; When all the rest began t' admire, And, like a train, from him took fire, Surpris'd with wonder, beforehand, At what they did not understand, 40

Cry'd out, impatient to know what The matter was they wonder'd at.

Quoth he, Th' inhabitants o' th' Moon, Who, when the Sun shines hot at noon, Do live in cellars under ground, 45

Of eight miles deep and eighty round, (In which at once they fortify Against the sun and th' enemy), Which they count towns and cities there, Because their people 's civiler so

Than those rude peasants that are found To live upon the upper ground, Call'd Privolvans, with whom they are Perpetually in open war ;

And now both armies, highly' enrag'd, 55

Are in a bloody fight engag'd, And many fall on both sides slain,

THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. .125

As by the glass 'tis clear and plain.

Look quickly then, that every one

May see the fight before 'tis done. 60

With that a great philosopher, Admir'd and famous far and near, As one of singular invention, But universal comprehension, Apply'd one eye, and half a nose, 65

Unto the optic engine close : For he had lately undertook To prove, and publish in a book, That men, whose nat'ral eyes are out, May, by more powerful art, be brought TO

To see with th' empty holes, as plain As if their eyes were in again ; And if they chanc'd to fail of those, To make an optic of a nose,

As clearly' it may, by those that wear 75

But spectacles, be made appear, By which both senses being united, Does render them much better sighted. This great man, having fixt both sights To view the formidable fights, so

Observ'd his best, and then cry'd out, The battle 's desperately fought ; The gallant Subvolvani rally, And from their trenches make a sally Upon the stubborn enemy, 85

Who now begin to rout and fly. * These silly ranting Privolvans Have every summer their campaigns, And muster, like the warlike sons Of Raw-head and of Bloody-bones, 90

126 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON.

As numerous as Soland geese

F th' islands of the Orcades,

Courageously to make a stand,

And face their neighbours hand to hand,

Until the long'd-for winter 's come, 95

And then return in triumph home,

And spend the rest o' th' year in lies,

And vap'ring of their victories.

From th' old Arcadians they 're believ'd

To be, before the Moon, deriv'd, 100

And, when her orb was new created,

To people her were thence translated :

For as th' Arcadians were reputed

Of all the Grecians the most stupid,

Whom nothing in the world could bring 105

To civil life but fiddleing,

They still retain the antique course

And custom of their ancestors,

And always sing and fiddle to

Things of the greatest weight they do. no

While thus the learn'd man entertains Th' assembly with the Privolvans, Another, of as great renown, And solid judgment, in the Moon, That understood her various soils, 115

4nd which produc'd best genet-moyles, And in the register of fame Had enter'd his long-living name, After he had por'd long and hard I' th' engine, gave a start, and star'd — 120

Quoth he, A stranger sight appears Than e'er was seen in all the spheres ! A wonder more unparallel'd,

THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 127

Than ever mortal tube beheld ;

An elephant from one of those 125

Two mighty armies is broke loose,

And with the horror of the fight

Appears amaz'd, and in a fright :

Look quickly, lest the sight of us

Should cause the startled beast t' imboss. 130

It is a large one, far more great

Than e'er was bred in Afric yet,

From which we boldly may infer

The Moon is much the fruitfuller.

And since the mighty Pyrrhus brought 135

Those living castles first, 'tis thought,

Against the Romans, in the field,

It may an argument be held,

(Arcadia being but a piece,

As his dominions were, of Greece,) uo

To prove what this illustrious person

Has made so noble a discourse on,

And amply satisfy'd us all

Of th' Privolvans' original.

That Elephants are in the Moon, 145

Though we had now discover'd none,

Is easily made manifest,

Since, from the greatest to the least,

All other stars and constellations

Have cattle of all sorts of nations, iso

And heaven, like a Tartar's horde,

With great and numerous droves is stor'd :

And if the Moon produce by Nature

A people of so vast a stature,

'Tis consequent she should bring forth 155

Far greater beasts, too, than the earth,

128 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON.

(As by the best accounts appears

Of all our great'st discoverers),

And that those monstrous creatures there

Are not such rarities as here. ieo

Meanwhile the rest had had a sight Of all particulars o' th' fight, And ev'ry man, with equal care, Perus'd of th' Elephant his share, Proud of his int'rest in the glory 165

Of so miraculous a story ; When one, who for his excellence In height'ning words, and shad'wing sense, And magnifying all he writ With curious microscopic wit, 170

Was magnify'd himself no less In home and foreign colleges, Began, transported with the twang Of his own trillo, thus t' harangue.

Most excellent and virtuous Friends, 175

This great discov'ry makes amends For all our unsuccessful pains, And lost expense of time and brains : For by this sole phenomenon We've gotten ground upon the Moon, iso

And gain'd a pass to hold dispute With all the planets that stand out ; To carry this most virtuous war Home to the door of every star, And plant th' artillery of our tubes 185

Against their proudest magnitudes ; To stretch our victories beyond Th' extent of planetary ground, And fix our engines, and our ensigns,

THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 129

Upon the fixt stars' vast dimensions, 190

(Which Archimede, so long ago,

Durst not presume to wish to do),

And prove if they are other suns,

As some have held opinions,

Or windows in the empyreum, 195

From whence those bright effluvias come

Like flames of fire (as others guess)

That shine i' the mouths of furnaces.

Nor is this all we have achiev'd,

But more, henceforth to be believ'd, 200

And have no more our best designs,

Because they 're ours, believ'd ill signs.

T' out-throw, and stretch, and to enlarge,

Shall now no more be laid t' our charge ;

Nor shall our ablest virtuosos 205

Prove arguments for coffee-houses ;

Nor those devices that are laid

Too truly on us, nor those made

Hereafter, gain belief among

Our strictest judges, right or wrong ; 210

Nor shall our past misfortunes more

Be charged upon the ancient score ;

No more our making old dogs young

Make men suspect us still i' th' wrong ;

Nor new-invented chariots draw 215

The boys to course us without law ;

Nor putting pigs t' a bitch to nurse,

To turn them into mongrel-curs,

Make them suspect our skulls are brittle,

And hold too much wit or too little ; 220

Nor shall our speculations, whether

An elder-stick will save the leather

VOL. II. K

130 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON.

Of school-boys' breeches from the rod,

Make all we do appear as odd,

This one discovery 's enough 225

To take all former scandals off —

But since the world 's incredulous

Of all our scrutinies, and us,

And with a prejudice prevents

Our best and worst experiments, 230

(As if th' were destin'd to miscarry,

In consort try'd, or solitary),

And since it is uncertain when

Such wonders will occur agen,

Let us as cautiously contrive 235

To draw an exact Narrative

Of what we every one can swear

Our eyes themselves have seen appear,

That, when we publish the Account,

We all may take our oaths upon 't. 240

This said, they all with one consent Agreed to draw up th' Instrument, And, for the general satisfaction, To print it in the next ' Transaction.'

But whilst the chiefs were drawing up 245

This strange Memoir o' th' telescope, One, peeping in the tube by chance, Beheld the Elephant advance, And from the west side of the Moon To th' east was in a moment gone. 250

This being related, gave a stop To what the rest were drawing up ; And every man, amazed anew How it could possibly be true, That any beast should run a race 255

THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 131

So monstrous, in so short a space,

Resolv'd, howe'er, to make it good,

At least as possible as he could,

And rather his own eyes condemn,

Than question what he had seen with them, seo

While all were thus resolv'd, a man Of great renown there thus began — 'Tis strange, I grant ! but who can say What cannot be, what can, and may ? Especially at so hugely vast 265

A distance as this wonder 's plac'd, Where the least error of the sight May shew things false, but never right ; Nor can we try them, so far off, By any sublunary proof: 270

For who can say that Nature there Has the same laws she goes by here ? Nor is it like she has infus'd, In every species there produc'd, The same efforts she does confer 275

Upon the same productions here ; Since those with us, of several nations, Have such prodigious variations, And she affects so much to use Variety in all she does. 280

Hence may b' inferr'd that, though I grant We 'ave seen i' th' Moon an Elephant, That Elephant may differ so From those upon the earth below, Both in his bulk, and force, and speed, 235

As being of a different breed, That though our own are but slow-pae'd, Theirs there may fly, or run as fast,

132 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON.

And yet be Elephants, no less

Than those of Indian pedigrees. • 200

This said, another of great worth, Fam'd for his learned works put forth, Look'd wise, then said — All this is true, And learnedly observ'd by you ; But there 'a another reason for 't, 295

That falls but very little short Of mathematic demonstration, Upon an accurate calculation, And that is — As the earth and moon Do both move contrary upon soo

Their axes, the rapidity Of both their motions cannot be But so prodigiously fast, That vaster spaces may be past In less time than the beast has gone, 305-

Though h' had no motion of his own, Which we can take no measure of, As you have clear'd by learned proof. This granted, we may boldly thence Lay claim t' a nobler inference, 310

And make this great phenomenon, (Were there no other), serve alone To clear the grand hypothesis Of th' motion of the earth from this.

With this they all were satisfy'd, 315

As men are wont o' th' bias'd side, Applauded the profound dispute, And grew more gay and resolute, By having overcome all doubt, Than if it never had fall'n out ; 320

And, to complete their Narrative,

THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 133

Agreed t' insert this strange retrieve.

But while they were diverted all With wording the Memorial, The foot-boys, for diversion too, 325

As having nothing else to do, Seeing the telescope at leisure, Turn'd virtuosos for their pleasure ; Began to gaze upon the Moon, As those they waited on had done, sso

With monkeys' ingenuity, That love to practise what they see ; When one, whose turn it was to peep, Saw something in the engine creep, And, viewing well, discover'd more 335

Than all the learn'd had done before. Quoth he, A little thing is slunk Into the long star-gazing trunk, And now is gotten down so nigh, I have him just against mine eye. 3*0

This being overheard by one Who was not so far overgrown In any virtuous speculation, To judge with mere imagination, Immediately he made a guess 345

At solving all appearances, A way far more significant Than all their hints of th' Elephant, And found, upon a second view, His own hypothesis most true ; ?!

For he had scarce applyM his eye To th' engine, but immediately He found a mouse was gotten in The hollow tube, and, shut between

134 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON.

The two glass windows in restraint, 355

Was swell'd into an Elephant,

And prov'd the virtuous occasion

Of all this learned dissertation :

And, as a mountain heretofore

Was great with child, they say, and bore SGO

A silly mouse ; this mouse, as strange,

Brought forth a mountain in exchange.

Meanwhile the rest in consultation Had penn'd the wonderful Narration, And set their hands, and seals, and wit, S65

T attest the truth of what they'd writ, When this accurs'd phenomenon Confounded all they'd said or done : For 'twas no sooner hinted at, But th' all were in a tumult strait, 370

More furiously enrag'd by far, Than those that in the Moon made war, To find so admirable a hint, When they had all agreed t' have seen 't, And were engag'd to make it out, 375

Obstructed with a paltry doubt : When one, whose task was to determine, And solve th' appearances of vermin, Who'd made profound discoveries In frogs, and toads, and rats, and mice, sso

(Though not so curious, 'tis true, As many a wise rat-catcher knew), After he had with signs made way For something great he had to say ;

* This disquisition 385

Is, half of it, in my *discission j * Sic Orig.

THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 135

For though the Elephant, as -beast,

Belongs of right to all the rest,

The mouse, being but a vermin, none

Has title to but I alone ; 890

And therefore hope I may be heard,

In my own province, with regard.

It is no wonder we 're cryM down, And made the talk of all the Town, That rants and swears, for all our great 395

Attempts, we have done nothing yet, If every one have leave to doubt, When some great secret 's half made out ; And, 'cause perhaps it is not true, Obstruct, and ruin all we do. 400

As no great act was ever done, Nor ever can, with truth alone, If nothing else but truth w' allow, 'Tis no great matter what we do : For truth is too reservM, and nice, 405

T' appear in mix'd societies ; Delights in solit'ry abodes, And never shows herself in crowds ; A sullen little thing, below

All matters of pretence and show ; 4io

That deal in novelty and change, Not of things true, but rare and strange, To treat the world with what is fit And proper to its natural wit : The world, that never sets esteem 4 is

On what things are, but what they seem, And, if they be not strange and new, They 're ne'er the better for being true ; For what has mankind gain'd by knowing

136 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON".

His little truth, but his undoing, 420

Which wisely was by nature hidden,

And only for his good forbidden ?

And therefore with great prudence does

The world still strive to keep it close ;

For if all secret truths were known, 425

Who would not be once more undone ?

For truth has always danger in 't,

And here, perhaps, may cross some hint

We have already agreed upon,

And vainly frustrate all we've done, 430

Only to make new work for Stubs,

And all the academic clubs.

How much, then, ought we have a care

That no man know above his share,

Nor dare to understand, henceforth, 435

More than his contribution 's worth ;

That those who've purchas'd of the college

A share, or half a share, of knowledge,

And brought in none, but spent repute,

Should not b' admitted to dispute, 440

Nor any man pretend to know

More than his dividend comes to ?

For partners have been always known

To cheat their public interest prone ;

And if we do not look to ours, 445

'Tis sure to run the self-same course.

This said, the whole assembly alloVd The doctrine to be right and good, And, from the truth of what they'd heard, Resolv'd to give Truth no regard, 450

But what was for their turn to vouch, And either find or make it such : That 'twas more noble to create

THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 137

Things like Truth, out of strong conceit,

Than with vexatious pains and doubt, 455

To find, or think t' have found, her out.

This being resolvM, they, one by one, ReView'd the tube, the Mouse, and Moon ; But still the narrower they pry'd, v The more they were unsatisfy'd, 460

In no one thing they saw agreeing, As if they'd several faiths of seeing. Some swore, upon a second view, That all they'd seen before was true ; And that they never would recant 465

One syUable of th' Elephant ; Avow'd his snout could be no Mouse's, But a true Elephant's proboscis. Others began to doubt and waver, Uncertain which o' th' two to favour, 470

And knew not whether to espouse The cause of th' Elephant or Mouse. Some held no way so orthodox To try it, as the ballot-box, And, like the nation's patriots, 475

To find, or make, the truth by votes : Others conceiv'd it much more fit T' unmount the tube, and open it, And, for their private satisfaction, To re-examine the ' Transaction/ 480

And after explicate the rest, As they should find cause for the best.

To this, as th' only expedient, The whole assembly gave consent, But, ere the tube was half let down, 435

It clear'd the first phenomenon : For, at the end, prodigious swarms

138 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON.

Of flics and gnats, like men in arms,

Had all past muster, by mischance,

Both for the Sub- and Pri-volvans. 490

This being discovered, put them all

Into a fresh and fiercer brawl,

Asham'd that men so grave and wise

Should be chaldes'd by gnats and flies,

And take the feeble insects' swarms 495

For mighty troops of men at arms ;

As vain as those who, when the Moon

Bright in a crystal river shone,

Threw casting-nets as subtly at her,

To catch and pull her out o' th' water. 500

But when they had unscrew'd the glass, To find out where th' impostor was, And saw the Mouse, that, by mishap, Had made the telescope a trap, Amaz'd, confounded, and afflicted, sos

To be so openly convicted, Immediately they get them gone, With this discovery alone : —

That those who greedily pursue Things wonderful, instead of true ; cio

That in their speculations choose To make discoveries strange news ; And natural history a Gazette Of tales stupendous and far-fet ; Hold no truth worthy to be known, SIR

That is not huge and overgrown, And explicate appearances, Not as they are, but as they please ; In vain strive Nature to suborn, And, for their pains, are paid with scorn. $20

THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 139

THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. IN LONG VERSE *

A VIRTUOUS, learn'd Society, of late JL\. The pride and glory of a foreign state, Made an agreement, on a summer's night, To search the Moon at full by her own light ; To take a perfect inventory of all 5

Her real fortunes, or her personal, And make a geometrical survey Of all her lands, and how her country lay, As accurate as that of Ireland, where The sly surveyor 's said t' have sunk a shire : 10 T' observe her country's climate, how 'twas planted, And what she most abounded with, or wanted ; And draw maps of her properest situations For settling and erecting new plantations,

* After the Author had finished this story in short verse, lie took it into his head to attempt it in long. That this was composed after the other, is manifest from its being wrote opposite to it upon a vacant part of the same paper ; and though in most places the Poet has done little more than filled up the verse with an additional foot, preserving the same thought and rhyme, yet as it is a singular instance in its way, and has, besides, many considerable additions and variations, which tend to illustrate and explain the preceding Poem, it may be looked upon not only as a curiosity in its kind, but as a new production of the Author's. This I men tion only to obviate the objection of those who may think it inserted to fill up the volume. To the admirers of Butler, I am sure, no apology is necessary.

140 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON

If ever the Society should incline is

T' attempt so great and glorious a design :

" A task in vain, unless the German Kepler

Had found out a discovery to people her,

And stock her country with inhabitants

Of military men and Elephants : 20

For th' Ancients only took her for a piece

Of red-hot iron as big as Peloponnese,

Till he appear'd ; for which, some write, she sent

Upon his tribe as strange a punishment."

This was the only purpose of their meeting, 25 !For which they chose a time and place most fitting, When, at the full, her equal shares of light And influence were at their greatest height. And now the lofty telescope, the scale, By which they venture heav'n itself t' assail, so Was rais'd, and planted full against the Moon, And all the rest stood ready to fall on, Impatient who should bear away the honour To plant an ensign, first of all, upon her.

When one, who for his solid deep belief 35 Was chosen virtuoso then in chief, Had been approv'd the most profound and wise At solving all impossibilities, With gravity advancing, to apply To th' optic glass his penetrating eye, 40

Cry'd out, 0 strange ! then reinforc'd his sight Against the Moon with all his art and might, And bent the muscles of his pensive brow,

17 This and the following verses, to the end of the para graph, are not in the foregoing composition ; and are dis tinguished, as well as the rest of the same kind, by beiug printed with inverted commas.

IN LONG VERSE. 141

As if he meant to stare and gaze her through ; While all the rest began as much t' admire, 45 And, like a powder-train, from him took fire, Surprised with dull amazement before-hand, At what they would, but could not understand, And grew impatient to discover what The matter was, they so much wonder'd at. so

Quoth he, The old inhabitants o' th' Moon, Who, when the Sun shines hottest about noon, Are wont to live in cellars under ground, Of eight miles deep, and more than eighty round, In which at once they use to fortify 55

Against the sun-beams and the enemy, Are counted borough-towns and cities there, Because th' inhabitants are civiler Than those rude country peasants that are found, Like mountaineers, to live on *h' upper ground, eo Nam'd Privolvans, with whom the others are Perpetually in state of open war. And now both armies, mortally enrag'd, Are in a fierce and bloody fight engag'd, And many fall on both sides kill'd and slain, 65 As by the telescope 'tis clear and plain. Look in it quickly then, that every one May see his share before the battle 's done.

At this a famous great philosopher, Admir'd, and celebrated, far and near 70

As one of wondrous, singular invention, And equal universal comprehension ; " By which he had compos'd a pedler's jargon, For all the world to learn, and use in bargain, An universal canting idiom, 75

To understand the swinging pendulum,

142 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON

And to communicate, in all designs,

With th' Eastern virtuosi Mandarines;"

Apply 'd an optic nerve, and half a nose,

To th' end and centre of the engine close : so

For he had very lately undertook

To vindicate, and publish in a book,

That men, whose native eyes are blind, or out,

May by more admirable art be brought

To see with empty holes, as well and plain 85

As if their eyes had been put in again.

This great man, therefore, having fix'd his sight T' observe the bloody formidable fight, Consider'd carefully, and then cry'd out, 'Tis true, the battle 's desperately fought ; 90

The gallant Subvolvans begin to rally, And from their trenches valiantly sally, To fall upon the stubborn enemy, Who fearfully begin to rout and fly. These paltry domineering Privolvans 95

Have, every summer-season, their campaigns, And muster, like the military sons Of Raw-head and victorious Bloody-bones, As great and numerous as Soland geese I' th' summer islands of the Orcades, 100

Courageously to make a dreadful stand, And boldly face their neighbours hand to hand, .Until the peaceful, long'd-for winter's come, ; And then disband, and march in triumph home, And spend the rest of all the year in lies, 105

And vap'ring of their unknown victories. From th' old Arcadians they have been believ'd To be, before the Moon herself, deriv'd ; And, when her orb was first of all created,

IN LONG VERSE. 143

To be from thence, to people her, translated : no

For, as those people had been long reputed,

Of all the Peloponnesians, the most stupid,

Whom nothing in the world could ever bring

T* endure the civil life but fiddleing,

They ever since retain the antique course, 115

And native frenzy of their ancestors,

And always use to sing and fiddle to

Things of the most important weight they do,

While thus the virtuoso entertains The whole assembly with the Privolvans, 120

" Another sophist, but of less renown, Though longer observation of the Moon," That understood the diff rence of her soils, And which produced the fairest genet-moyles, " But for an unpaid weekly shilling's pension 125 Had fin'd for wit, and judgment, and invention," Who, after poring tedious and hard In th' optic engine, gave a start; and star'd, And thus began — A stanger sight appears Than ever yet was seen in all the spheres ! iso A greater wonder, more unparailel'd Than ever mortal tube or eye beheld ; A mighty Elephant from one of those Two fighting armies is at length broke loose, And, with the desp'rate horror of the fight iss Appears amaz'd, and in a dreadful fright ! Look quickly, lest the only sight of us Should cause the startled creature to imboss.

125 iao The poet had ad(ie(j tne two following lines in this character, but afterwards crossed them out :

And first found out the building Paul's, And paving London with sea-coals.

144 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON

It is a large one, and appears more great

Than ever was produc'd in Afric yet ; HO

From which we confidently may infer,

The Moon appears to be the fruitfuller.

And since, of old, the mighty Pyrrhus brought

Those living castles first of all, 'tis thought,

Against the Roman army in the field, 145

It may a valid argument be held,

(The same Arcadia being but a piece,

As his dominions were, of antique Greece)

To vindicate what this illustrious person

Has made so learn'd and noble a discourse on, 150

And giv'n us ample satisfaction all

Of the ancient Privolvans' original.

That Elephants are really in the Moon, Although our fortune had discover'd none, Is easily made plain and manifest, 155

Since from the greatest orbs, down to the least, All other globes of stars and constellations Have cattle in 'em of all sorts and nations, And heaven, like a Northern Tartar's hoard, With numerous and mighty droves is stor'd : ieo And if the Moon can but produce by Nature A people of so large and vast a stature, 'Tis more than probable she should bring forth A greater breed of beasts, too, than the earth ; As by the best accounts we have, appears 165 Of all our crediblest discoverers, And that those vast and monstrous creatures there Are not such far-fet rarities as here.

Meanwhile th' assembly now had had a sight Of all distinct particulars o' th' fight, 170

And every man, with diligence and care,

IN LONG VERSE. 145

Perus'd and view'd of th' Elephant his share, Proud of his equal int'rest in the glory Of so stupendous and renown'd a story ; When one, who for his fame and excellence ITS In heightening of words and shadowing sense, And magnifying all he ever writ With delicate and microscopic wit, Had long been magnify'd himself no less In foreign and domestic colleges, iso

Began at last (transported with the twang Of his own elocution) thus t'harangue. 1 Most virtuous and incomparable Friends, This great discovery fully makes amends For all our former unsuccessful pains, 185

And lost expenses of our time and brains ; For by this admirable phenomenon, We now have gotten ground upon the Moon, And gain'd a pass t' engage and hold dispute With all the other planets that stand out, 100 And carry on this brave and virtuous war Home to the door of th' obstinatest star, And plant th' artillery of our optic tubes Against the proudest of their magnitudes ; To stretch our future victories beyond 195

The uttermost of planetary' ground, And plant our warlike engines, and our ensigns, Upon the fix'd stars' spacious dimensions, To prove if they are other suns or not, As some philosophers have wisely thought, 200 Or only windows in the empyreum, Through which those bright effluvias use to come; Which Archimede, so many years ago, Durst never venture but to wish to know. VOL. ir. L

146 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON

Nor is this all that we have now achiev'd, 205

But greater things ! — henceforth to be believ'd ;

And have no more our best or worst designs,

Because they 're ours, suspected for ill signs.

T' out-throw, and magnify, and to enlarge,

Shall, henceforth, be no more laid to our charge ;

Nor shall our best and ablest virtuosos 211

Prove arguments again for coffee-houses ;

" Nor little stories gain belief among

Our criticallest judges, right or wrong:"

Nor shall our new-invented chariots draw 215

The boys to course us in 'em without law ;

" Make chips of elms produce the largest trees,

Or sowing saw-dust furnish nurseries :

No more our heading darts (a swinging one !)

With butter only harden'd in the sun ; 220

Or men that used to whistle loud enough

To be heard by others plainly five miles off,

Cause all the rest we own and have avow'd,

To be believ'd as desperately loud."

Nor shall our future speculations, whether 225

An elder-stick will render all the leather

Of schoolboys' breeches proof against the rod,

Make all we undertake appear as odd.

This one discovery will prove enough

To take all past and future scandals off: 230

But since the world is so incredulous

Of all our usual scrutinies and us,

And with a constant prejudice prevents

Our best as well as worst experiments,

As if they were all destin'd to miscarry, 235

As well in concert try'd, as solitary ;

And that th' assembly is uncertain when

IN LONG VERSE. 147

Such great discoveries will occur agen,

'Tis reasonable we should, at least, contrive

To draw up as exact a Narrative 240

Of that which every man of us can swear

Our eyes themselves have plainly seen appear,

That when 'tis fit to publish the Account

We all may take our several oaths upon 't.

^This said, the whole assembly gave consent 245 To drawing up th' authentic Instrument, And, for the nation's gen'ral satisfaction, To print and own it in their next ' Transaction : ' But while their ablest men were drawing up The wonderful memoir o' th' telescope, 250

A member peeping in the tube by chance, Beheld the Elephant begin t' advance, That from the west-by-north side of the Moon To th' east-by-south was in a moment gone. This being related, gave a sudden stop 255

To all their grandees had been drawing up, And every person was amaz'd anew, How such a strange surprisal should be true, Or any beast perform so great a race, So swift and rapid, in so short a space, zeo

Resolv'd, as suddenly, to make it good, Or render all as fairly as they could, And rather chose their own eyes to condemn, Than question what they had beheld with them.

While every one was thus resolv'd, a man 266 Of great esteem and credit thus began — 'Tis strange, I grant ! but who, alas ! can say What cannot be, or justly can, and may ? Especially at so hugely wide and vast A distance as this miracle is plac'd, 370

148 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON

Where the least error of the glass, or sight,

May render things amiss, but never right ?

Nor can we try them, when they're so far off,

By any equal sublunary proof:

For who can justify that Nature there 275

Is ty'd to the same laws she acts by here ?

Nor is it probable she has infus'd

Int' ev'ry species in the Moon produc'd,

The same efforts she uses to confer

Upon the very same productions here, 280

Since those upon the earth, of several nations,

Are found t' have such prodigious variations,

And she affects so constantly to use

Variety in every thing she does.

From hence may be inferr'd that, though I grant

We have beheld i' th' Moon an Elephant, 286

That Elephant may chance to differ so

From those with us upon the earth below,

Both in his bulk, as well as force and speed,

As being of a different kind and breed, 290

That though, 'tis true, our own are but slow-pac'd,

Theirs there, perhaps, may fly, or run as fast,

And yet be very Elephants, no less

Than those deriv'd from Indian families.

This said, another member of great worth, 295 Fam'd for the learned works he had put forth, " In which the mannerly and modest author Quotes the Right Worshipful his elder brother," Look'd wise a while, then said — All this is true, And very learnedly observ'd by you ; soo

But there's another nobler reason for 't, That, rightly observ'd, wiU fall but little short Of solid mathematic demonstration,

IN LONG VERSE. 149

Upon a full and perfect calculation ;

And that is only this — As th' earth and moon 305

Do constantly move contrary upon

Their several axes, the rapidity

Of both their motions cannot fail to be

So violent, and naturally fast,

That larger distances may well be past sio

In\ less time than the Elephant has gone,

Although he had no motion of his own,

Which we on earth can take no measure of

As you have made it evident by proof.

This granted, we may confidently hence 315

Claim title to another inference,

And make this wonderful phenomenon

(Were there no other) serve our turn alone,

To vindicate the grand hypothesis,

And prove the motion of the earth from this. 320

This said, th' assembly now was satisfy'd, As men are soon upon the bias'd side ; With great applause receiv'd th' admir'd dispute, And grew more gay, and brisk, and resolute, By having (right or wrong) remov'd all doubt, 325 Than if th' occasion never had falTn out ; Resolving to complete their Narrative, And punctually insert this strange retrieve.

But while their grandees were diverted all With nicely wording the Memorial, 330

The foot-boys, for their own diversion too, As having nothing now at all to do, And when they saw the telescope at leisure, Turn'd virtuosos, only for their pleasure ; " With drills' and monkeys' ingenuity, 335

That take delight to practise all they see,"

150 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON

Began to stare and gaze upon the Moon, As those they waited on before had done : When one, whose turn it was by chance to peep, Saw something in the lofty engine creep, 340

And, viewing carefully, discover'd more Than all their masters hit upon before. Quoth he, 0 strange ! a little thing is slunk On th' inside of the long star-gazing trunk, And now is gotten down so low and nigh, 345

I have him here directly 'gainst mine eye.

This chancing to be overheard by one Who was not, yet, so hugely overgrown In any philosophic observation, As to conclude with mere imagination, 350

And yet he made immediately a guess At fully solving all appearances, A plainer way, and more significant Than all their hints had prov'd o' th' Elephant, And quickly found, upon a second view, 355

His own conjecture, probably, most true ; For he no sooner had apply'd his eye To th' optic engine, but immediately He found a small field-mouse was gotten in The hollow telescope, and, shut between seo

The two glass windows, closely in restraint, Was magnify'd into an Elephant, And prov'd the happy virtuous occasion Of all this deep and learned dissertation. And as a mighty mountain, heretofore, ses

Is said t' have been begot with child, and bore A silly mouse, this captive mouse, as strange, Produc'd another mountain in exchange.

Meanwhile the grandees, long in consultation,

IN LONG VERSE. 151

Had finish'd the miraculous Narration, 370

And set their hands, and seals, and sense, and wit,

T' attest and vouch the truth of all th5 had writ,

When this unfortunate phenomenon

Confounded all they had declar'd and done :

For 'twas no sooner told and hinted at, 375

But all the rest were in a tumult strait,

More hot and furiously enrag'd by far

'Than both the hosts that in the Moon made war,

To find so rare and admirable a hint,

When they had all agreed and sworn t' have seen 't,

And had engag'd themselves to make it out, ssi

Obstructed with a wretched paltry doubt.

When one, whose only task was to determine And solve the worst appearances of vermin, Who oft had made profound discoveries 385

In frogs and toads, as well as rats and mice, (Though not so curious and exact, 'tis true, As many an exquisite rat-catcher knew), After he had a while with signs made way For something pertinent he had to say, 590

At last prevail'd — Quoth he, This disquisition Is, the one half of it, in my decission ; For though 'tis true the Elephant, as beast, Belongs, of nat'ral right, to all the rest, The mouse, that 's but a paltry vermin, none 395 Can claim a title to, but I alone ; And therefore humbly hope I may be heard, In my own province, freely, with regard. It is no wonder that we are cry'd down, And made the table-talk of all the town, 400

That rants and vapours still, for all our great Designs and projects, we 've done nothing yet,

152 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON

If every one have liberty to doubt,

When some great secret 's more than half made out,

Because, perhaps, it will not hold out true, 405

And put a stop to all w' attempt to do.

As no great action ever has been done,

Nor ever 's like to be, by Truth alone,

If nothing else but only truth w' allow,

'Tis no great matter what w* intend to do ; 410

" For Truth is always too reserv'd and chaste,

T' endure to be by all the Town embrac'd ;

A solitary anchorite, that dwells

Retir'd from all the world, in obscure cells,"

Disdains all great assemblies, and defies 415

The press and crowd of mix'd societies,

That use to deal in novelty and change,

Not of things true, but great, and rare, and strange,

To entertain the world with what is fit

And proper for its genius and its wit ; 420

The world, that 's never found to set esteem

On what things are, but what th' appear and seem :

And if they are not wonderful and new,

They 're ne'er the better for their being true.

" For what is truth, or knowledge, but a kind 425

Of wantonness and luxury o' th' mind,

A greediness and gluttony o' th' brain,

That longs to eat forbidden fruit again,

And grows more desp'rate, like the worst diseases,

Upon the nobler part (the mind) it seizes ?" 430

And what has mankind ever gain'd by knowing

His little truths, unless his own undoing,

That prudently by Nature had been hidden,

And, only for his greater good, forbidden ?

And therefore with as great discretion does 435

IN LONG VERSE. 153

The world endeavour still to keep it close ;

For if the secrets of all truths were known,

Who would not, once more, be as much undone ?

For truth is never without danger in 't,

As here it has depriv'd us of a hint 440

The whole assembly had agreed upon,

And utterly defeated all w' had done,

'f By giving foot-boys leave to interpose,

And disappoint whatever we propose ; "

For nothing but to cut out work for Stubs, 445

And all the busy academic clubs,

" For which they have deserv'd to run the risks

Of elder-sticks, and penitential frisks."

How much, then, ought we have a special care

That none presume to know above his share, 450

Nor take upon him t' understand, henceforth,

More than his weekly contribution's worth,

That all those that have purchas'd of the college

A half, or but a quarter, share of knowledge,

And brought none in themselves but spent repute,

Should never be admitted to dispute, 456

Nor any member undertake to know

More than his equal dividend comes to ?

For partners have perpetually been known

T' impose upon their public int'rest prone ; 460

And if we have not greater care of ours,

It will be sure to run the self-same course.

This said, the whole Society allow'd The doctrine to be orthodox and good, And from th' apparent truth of what th' had heard, Resolv'd, henceforth, to give Truth no regard, 466 But what was for their interests to vouch, And either find it out, or make it such :

154 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON

That 'twas more admirable to create Inventions, like truth, out of strong conceit, 470 Than with vexatious study, pains, and doubt, To find, or but suppose t' have found, it out.

This being resolv'd, th' assembly, one by one, Review'd the tube, the Elephant, and Moon ; But still the more and curiouser they pry'd, 475 They but became the more unsatisfy'd ; In no one thing they gaz'd upon agreeing, As if th' had different principles of seeing. Some boldly swore, upon a second view, That all they had beheld before was true, 480 And damn'd themselves they never would recant One syllable th' had seen of th' Elephant ; Avow'd his shape and snout could be no Mouse's, But a true nat'ral Elephant's proboscis. Others began to doubt as much, and waver, 485 Uncertain which to disallow or favour ; " Until they had as many cross resolves, As Irishmen that have been turn'd to wolves," And grew distracted, whether to espouse The party of the Elephant or Mouse. 490

Some held there was no way so orthodox, As to refer it to the ballot-box, And, like some other nation's patriots, To find it out, or make the truth, by votes : Others were of opinion 'twas more fit 495

T' unmount the telescope, and open it, And, for their own, and all men's, satisfaction, To search and re-examine the ' Transaction,' And afterwards to explicate the rest, As they should see occasion for the best. 500

To this, at length, as th' only expedient,

IN LONG VERSE. 155

The whole assembly freely gave consent ; But ere the optic tube was half let down, Their own eyes clear'd the first phenomenon : For at the upper end, prodigious swarms 505

Of busy flies and gnats, like men in arms, Had all past muster in the glass by chance, For both the Peri- and the Sub-volvans. \ This being discover'd, once more put them all Into a worse and desperater brawl ; 510

Surpris'd with shame, that men so grave and wise Should be trepann'd by paltry gnats and flies, And to mistake the feeble insects' swarms For squadrons and reserves of men in arms ; As politic as those who, when the Moon 515

As bright and glorious in a river shone, Threw casting-nets with equal cunning at her, To catch her with, and pull her out o' th' water.

But when, at last, they had unscrew'd the glass To find out where the sly impostor was, 520

And saw 'twas but a Mouse, that by mishap Had catch'd himself, and them, in th' optic trap,

531522 Butler, to compliment his Mouse for affording him an opportunity of indulging his satirical turn, and display ing his wit upon this occasion, has, to the end of this Poem, subjoined the following epigrammatical note : A Mouse, whose martial valour has so long Ago been try'd, and by old Homer sung, And purchas'd him more everlasting glory Than all his Grecian and his Trojan story, Though he appears unequal match'd, I grant, In bulk and stature by the Elephant, Yet frequently has been observ'd in battle To have reduc'd the proud and haughty cattle, When, having boldly enter'd the redoubt, And storm'd the dreadful outwork of his snout, The little vermin, like an errant knight, Has slain the huge gigantic beast in fight.

156 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON.

Amaz'd, with shame confounded, and afflicted To find themselves so openly convicted, Immediately made haste to get them gone 525 With none but this discovery alone : —

That learned men, who greedily pursue Things that are rather wonderful than true, And, in their nicest speculations, choose To make their own discoveries strange news, 530 And nat'ral hist'ry rather a Gazette Of rarities stupendous and far-fet ; Believe no truths are worthy to be known, That are not strongly vast and overgrown, And strive to explicate appearances, 535

Not as they 're probable, but as they please, In vain endeavour Nature to suborn, And, for their pains, are justly paid with scorn.

A SATIRE UPON THE ROYAL SOCIETY. A FRAGMENT.*

A LEARNED man, whom once a-week -/~JL A hundred virtuosos seek, And like an oracle apply to, T' ask questions, and admire, and lie to,

* Butler formed a design of writing another satire upon the Royal Society, part of which I find amongst his papers, fairly and correctly transcribed. Whether he ever finished it, or the remainder of it be lost, is uncertain : the Fragment,

SATIRE UPON THE ROYAL SOCIETY. 157

Who entertain'd them all of course 5

(As men take wives for better or worse) And pass'd them all for men of parts, Though some but sceptics in their hearts ; For when they 're cast into a lump, Their talents equally must jump ; 10

As metals mixt, the rich and base VDo both at equal values pass.

With these the ord'nary debate Was after news, and things of state, Which way the dreadful comet went 15

In sixty-four, and what it meant ? What nations yet are to bewail ' The operation of its tail ? Or whether France or Holland yet, Or Germany, be in its debt ? 20

What wars and plagues in Christendom Have happen'd since, and what to come ? What kings are dead, how many queens And princesses are poison'd since ? And who shall next of all by turn 25

Make courts wear black, and tradesmen mourn ? What parties next of foot or horse, Will rout, or routed be, of course ? What German marches, and retreats, Will furnish the next month's Gazettes ? so

What pestilent contagion next, And what part of the world, infects ?

however, that is preserved, may not improperly be added in this place, as in some sort explanatory of the preceding poem : and, I am persuaded, that those who have a taste for Butler's turn and humour, will think this too curious a Frag ment to be lost, though perhaps too imperfect to be formally published.

158 SATIRE UPON THE ROYAL SOCIETY.

What dreadful meteor, and where,

Shall in the heavens next appear ?

And when again shall lay embargo 85

Upon the Admiral, the good ship Argo ?

Why currents turn in seas of ice

Some thrice a-day, and some but twice ?

And why the tides at night and noon,

Court, like Caligula, the Moon ? *o

What is the nat'ral cause why fish

That always drink do never piss ?

Or whether in their home, the deep,

By night or day they ever sleep ?

If grass be green, or snow be white, 45

But only as they take the light ?

Whether possessions of the devil,

Or mere temptations, do most evil ?

What is 't that makes all fountains still

Within the earth to run up hill, 50

But on the outside down again,

As if th' attempt had been in vain?

Or what 's the strange magnetic cause

The steel on loadstone 's drawn or draws ?

The star, the needle, which the stone 55

Has only been but touch'd upon ?

Whether the North-star's influence

With both does hold intelligence ?

(For red-hot ir'n, held tow'rds the pole,

Turns of itself to 't when 'tis cool :) eo

Or whether male and female screws

In th' iron and stone th' effect produce ?

What makes the body of the sun,

That such a rapid course does run,

To draw no tail behind through th' air, 65

SATIRE UPON THE ROYAL SOCIETY. 159

As comets do, when they appear.

Which other planets cannot do,

Because they do not burn, but glow ?

Whether the Moon be sea or land,

Or charcoal, or a quench'd firebrand ; 70

Or if the dark holes that appear,

Are only pores, not cities, there ?

Whether the atmosphere turn round,

And keep a just pace with the ground,

Or loiter lazily behind, 75

And clog the air with gusts of wind ?

Or whether crescents in the wane,

(For so an author has it plain),

Do burn quite out, or wear away

Their snuffs upon the edge of day ? so

Whether the sea increase, or waste,

And, if it do, how long 'twill last ?

Or, if the sun approaches near

The earth, how soon it will be there ?

These were their learned speculations, 85

And all their constant occupations, To measure wind, and weigh the air, And turn a circle to a square ; To make a powder of the sun, By which all doctors should b' undone ; 90

To find the north-west passage out, Although the farthest way about ; If chemists from a rose's ashes Can raise the rose itself in glasses ? Whether the line of incidence 95

Rise from the object, or the sense ? To stew th' elixir in a bath Of hope, credulity, and faith ;

160 SATIRE UPON THE ROYAL SOCIETY.

To explicate, by subtle hints,

The grain of diamonds and flints, 100

And in the braying of an ass

Find out the treble and the bass ;

If mares neigh alto, and a cow

A double diapason low. —

REPARTEES BETWEEN CAT AND PUSS.

AT A CATEBWATTLING. IN THE MODEEN HEEOIC WAT.

IT was about the middle age of night, When half the earth stood in the other's light, And Sleep, Death's brother, yet a friend to life, Gave weary'd Nature a restorative, When Puss, wrapt warm in his own native furs, 5 Dreamt soundly of as soft and warm amours, Of making gallantry in gutter- tiles, And sporting on delightful faggot-piles ; Of bolting out of bushes in the dark,

Repaitees] This poem is a satirical banter upon those heroic plays which were so Much in vogue at the time our Author lived; the dialogues of which, having what they called Heroic Love for their subject, are carried on exactly in this strain, as any one may perceive that will consult the dramatic pieces of Dryden, Settle, and others.

CAT AND PUSS. 1C1

As ladies use at midnight in the Park, 10

Or seeking in tall garrets an alcove,

For assignations in th' affairs of love.

At once his passion was both false and true,

And the more false, the more in earnest grew.

He fancy'd that he heard those am'rous charms is

That us'd to summon him to soft alarms,

rl\) which he always brought an equal flame,

To fight a rival, or to court a dame ;

And, as in dreams, love's raptures are more taking

Than all their actual enjoyments waking, 20

His am'rous passion grew to that extreme,

His dream itself awak'd him from his dream.

Thought he, What place is this ? or whither art

Thou vanish'd from me, mistress of my heart ?

But now I had her in this very place, 25

Here, fast imprison'd in my glad embrace,

And while my joys beyond themselves were rapt,

I know not how, nor whither, thou 'rt escap'd :

Stay, and I '11 follow thee. With that he leapt

Up from the lazy couch on which he slept, so And, wing'd with passion, thro' his known purlieu, Swift as an arrow from a bow he flew, Nor stopp'd, until his fire had him convey'd Where many an assignation h' had enjoy'd ; Where finding, what he sought, a mutual flame, 35 That long had stay'd and call'd, before he came, Impatient of delay, without one word, To lose no further time, he fell aboard, But grip'd so hard, he wounded what he lov'd, While she, in anger, thus his heat reprov'd. 40 C. Forbear, foul ravisher, this rude address ; Canst thou, at once, both injure and caress ?

VOL, II. M

162 CAT AND PUSS.

P. Thou hast bewitch'd me with thy pow'rful charms,

And I, by drawing blood, would cure my harms.

G. He that does love would set his heart a-tilt, 45

Ere one drop of his lady's should be spilt.

P. Your wounds are but without, and mine within :

You wound my heart, and I but prick your skin ;

And while your eyes pierce deeper than my claws,

You blame th' effect, of which you are the cause. 50

C. How could my guiltless eye your heart invade,

Had it not first been by your own betray'd ?

Hence 'tis, my greatest crime has only been

(Not in mine eyes, but yours) in being seen.

P. I hurt to love, but do not love to hurt. 55

C. That 's worse than making cruelty a sport.

P. Pain is the foil of pleasure and delight,

That sets it off to a more noble height.

C. He buys his pleasure at a rate too vain,

That takes it up beforehand of his pain. 60

P. Pain is more dear than pleasure when 'tis past.

C. But grows intolerable if it last.

P. Love is too full of honour to regard

What it enjoys, but suffers as reward.

What knight durst ever own a lover's name, 65

That had not been half murder'd by his flame ?

Or lady, that had never lain at stake,

To death, or force of rivals, for his $ake ?

C. When love does meet with injury and pain,

Disdain 's the only med'cine for disdain. 70

P. At once I'm happy, and unhappy too,

In being pleas'd, and in displeasing you.

C. Prepost'rous way of pleasure and of love,

That contrary to its own end would move !

'Tis rather hate that covets to destroy ; 75

CAT AND PUSS. 163

Love's business is to love, and to enjoy.

P. Enjoying and destroying are all one,

As flames destroy that which they feed upon.

C. He never lov'd at any gen'rous rate,

That in th' enjoyment found his flame abate. so

As wine (the friend of love) is wont to make

The thirst more violent it pretends to slake,

89 should fruition do the lover's fire,

Instead of lessening, inflame desire. si

P. What greater proof that passion does transport,

When, what I'd die for, I'm forced to hurt?

C. Death, among lovers, is a thing despis'd,

And far below a sullen humour priz'd,

That is more scorn'd and rail'd at than the gods,

When they are cross'd in love, or fall at odds : 90

But since you understand not what you do,

I am the judge of what I feel, not you.

P. Passion begins indifferent to prove,

When love considers any thing but love. 94

C. The darts of love, like lightning, wound within,

And, though they pierce it, never hurt the skin ;

They leave no marks behind them where they fly,

Though through the tend'rest part of all, the eye ;

But your sharp claws have left enough to shew

How tender I have been, how cruel you. 100

P. Pleasure is pain, for when it is enjoy'd,

All it could wish for was but to b' allay 'd.

C. Force is a rugged way of making love.

P. What you like best, you always disapprove.

C. He that will wrong his love will not be nice, 105

T' excuse the wrong he does, to wrong her twice.

P. Nothing is wrong but that which is ill meant.

C. Wounds are ill cured with a good intent.

164 CAT AND PUSS.

P. When you mistake that for an injury

I never meant, you do the wrong, not I. no

C. You do not feel yourself the pain you give :

But 'tis not that alone for which I grieve,

But 'tis your want of passion that I blame,

That can be cruel where you own a flame.

P. Tis you are guilty of that cruelty 115

Which you at once outdo, and blame in me ;

For while you stifle and inflame desire,

You burn and starve me in the self-same fire.

C. It is not I, but you, that do the hurt,

Who wound yourself, and then accuse me for 't ; IL>O

As thieves, that rob themselves 'twixt sun and sun,

Make others pay for what themselves have done.

TO THE

HONOURABLE EDWARD HOWARD, ESQ.

UPON HIS INCOMPAKABLE POEM OP

THE BEITISH PRINCES.* SlB,

YOU have oblig'd the British nation more Than all their bards could ever do before, And, at your own charge, monuments more hard Than brass or marble to their fame have rear'd ; For as all warlike nations take delight 5

To hear how brave their ancestors could fight, You have advanc'd to wonder their renown,

* Most of the celebrated wits in Charles II 's reiga ad dressed this gentleman in a bantering way upon his poem called 'The British Princes,' and, among the rest, Butler.

ON THE BRITISH PRINCES. 165

And no less virtuously improv'd your own :

For 'twill be doubted whether you do write,

Or they have acted, at a nobler height. 10

You of their ancient princes have retrieved

More than the ages knew in which they liv'd ;

Describ'd their customs and their rights anew,

Better than all their Druids ever knew ;

Unriddled their dark oracles as well 15

As those themselves, that made them, could foretell :

For, as the Britons long have hop'd, in vain,

Arthur would come to govern them again,

You have fulfill'd that prophecy alone,

And in this Poem plac'd him on his throne. 20

Such magic pow'r has your prodigious pen,

To raise the dead, and give new life to men ;

Make rival princes meet in arms, and love,

Whom distant ages did so far remove :

For as eternity has neither past 25

Nor future (authors say), nor first, nor last,

But is all instant, your eternal Muse

All ages can to any one reduce.

Then why should you, whose miracle of art

Can life at pleasure to the dead impart, so

Trouble in vain your better-busied head

T' observe what time they liv'd in, or were dead ?

For since you have such arbitrary power,

It were defect in judgment to go lower,

Or stoop to things so pitifully lewd, 35

As use to take the vulgar latitude.

There 's no man fit to read what you have writ,

That holds not some proportion with your wit ;

As light can no way but by light appear,

He must bring sense that understands it here. 4 )

166 ON THE BRITISH PRINCES.

A PALINODIE

TO THE HONOURABLE EDWAED HOWAED, ESQ. UPON HIS INCOMPAEABLE POEM OF THE BEITISH PEINCES.

IT is your pardon, Sir, for which my Muse Thrice humbly thus in form of paper sues ; For having felt the dead weight of your wit, She comes to ask forgiveness and submit • Is sorry for her faults, and, while I write, 5

Mourns in the black, does penance in the white : But such is her belief in your just candour, She hopes you will not so misunderstand her, To wrest her harmless meaning to the sense Of silly emulation or offence. 10

No ; your sufficient wit does still declare Itself too amply, they are mad that dare So vain and senseless a presumption own, To yoke your vast parts in comparison : And yet you might have thought upon a way 15 T' instruct us how you 'd have us to obey, And not command our praises, and then blame All that 's too great or little for your fame : For who could choose but err, without some trick To take your elevation to a nick ? 20

As he that was desir'd, upon occasion, To make the Mayor of London an oration, Desir'd his Lordship's favour, that he might Take measure of his mouth to fit it right ;

ON THE BRITISH PRINCES. 167

So, had you sent a scantling of your wit, 25

You might have blam'd us if it did not fit ; But 'tis not just t' impose, and then cry down All that 's unequal to your huge renown : For he that writes below your vast desert, Betrays his own, and not your want of art. so Praise, like a robe of state, should not sit close To th' person 'tis made for, but wide and loose ; Derives its comeliness from b'ing unfit, And such have been our praises of your wit, Which is so extraordinary, no height 35

Of fancy but your own can do it right : Witness those glorious poems you have writ With equal judgment, learning, art, and wit, And these stupendious discoveries You've lately made of wonders in the skies : 40 For who, but from yourself, did ever hear The sphere of atoms was the atmosphere ? Who ever shut those stragglers in a room, Or put a circle about vacuum ? What should confine those undetermin'd crowds, -is And yet extend no further than the clouds ? Who ever sould have thought, but you alone, A sign and an ascendant were all one ? Or how 'tis possible the Moon should shroud Her face to peep at Mars behind a cloud, so

Since clouds below are so far distant plac'd, They cannot hinder her from being barefac'd ? Who ever did a language so enrich, To scorn all little particles of speech ? 54

For tho' the/ make the sense clear, yet they 're found To be a scurvy hind'rance to the sound ; Therefore y:>u wisely scorn your style to humble,

168 ON THE BRITISH PRINCES.

Or for the sense's sake to waive the rumble.

Had Homer known this art h' had ne'er been fain

To use so many particles in vain, ' CD

That to no purpose serve, but (as he haps

To want a syllable) to fill up gaps.

You justly coin new verbs, to pay for those

Which in construction you o'ersee and lose ;

And by this art do Priscian no wrong 65

When you break 's head, for 'tis as broad as bng.

These are your own discoveries, which none

But such a Muse as yours could hit upon,

That can, in spite of laws of art, or rules,

Make things more intricate than all the schools : 70

For what have laws of art to do with you, ( ',:;;.

More than the laws with honest men and true ?

He that 's a prince in poetry should strive

To cry 'em down by his prerogative,

And not submit to that which has no force 75

But o'er delinquents and inferiors.

Your poems will endure to be [well] try'i

I' th' fire like gold, and come forth purify'd ;

Can only to eternity pretend,

For they were never writ to any end. so

All other books bear an uncertain rate,

But those you write are always sold by weight ;

Each word and syllable brought to the scale,

And valued to a scruple in the sale.

For when the paper 's charg'd with your rich wit,

JTis for all purposes and uses fit, S6

Has an abstersive virtue to make clean

Whatever Nature made in man obscene.

Boys find b' experiment, no paper kite

Without your verse can make a noble flight. oo

ON THE BRITISH PRINCES. 169

It keeps our spice and aromatics sweet ; In Paris they perfume their rooms with it, For burning but one leaf of yours, they say, Drives all their stinks and nastiness away. 95

Cooks keep their pies from burning with your wit, Their pigs and geese from scorching on the spit ; And vintners find their wines are ne'er the worse, When arsenic 's only wrapp'd up in the verse. These are the great performances that raise Your mighty parts above all reach of praise, 100 And give us only leave t' admire your worth, For no man, but yourself, can set it forth, Whose wondrous pow'r 's so generally known, Fame is the echo, and her voice your own.

A PANEGYRIC

HIS MADNESS.*

SIR, you've outliv'd so desperate a fit As none could do but an immortal wit ; Had yours been less, all helps had been in vain, And thrown away, though on a less sick brain ;

* It must surprise the reader to find a writer of Butler's judgment attacking, in so severe and contemptuous a man ner, the character of a Poet so much esteemed as Sir John Denham was. If what he charges him with be true, there is indeed some room for satire : but still there is such a spirit of bitterness runs through the whole, besides the cruelty of ridiculing an infirmity of this nature, as can be accounted for by nothing but some personal quarrel or disgust How far this weakness may carry the greatest geniuses, we have a proof in what Pooe has written of Addison.

170 A PANEGYRIC

But you were so far from receiving hurt, s

You grew improv'd, and much the better for 't.

As when th' Arabian bird does sacrifice,

And burn himself in his own country's spice,

A maggot first breeds in his pregnant urn,

Which after does to a young Phoenix turn : 10

So your hot brain, burnt in its native fire,

Did life renew'd and vigorous youth acquire ;

And with so much advantage, some have guess'd

Your after-wit is like to be your best,

And now expect far greater matters of ye is

Than the bought ' Cooper's Hill,'or borrow'd ' Sophy;'

Such as your Tully lately dress'd in verse,

Like those he made himself, or not much worse ;

And Seneca's dry sand unmix'd with lime,

Such as you cheat the king with, botch'd in rhyme.

Nor were your morals less improv'd, all pride, 21

And native insolence, quite laid aside ;

And that ungovern'd outrage, that was wont

All, that you durst with safety, to affront.

No China cupboard rudely overthrown, 25

Nor lady tipp'd, by being accosted, down ;

No poet jeer'd, for scribbling amiss,

With verses forty times more lewd than his :

Nor did your crutch give battle to your duns,

And hold it out, where you had built a sconce ; so

Nor furiously laid orange-wench aboard,

For asking what in fruit and love you'd scor'd ;

But all civility and complacence,

More than you ever us'd before or since.

Beside, you never over-reach'd the King ss

One farthing, all the while, in reckoning,

Nor brought in false accompt, with little tricks

UPON SIR JOHN DENHAM. 171

Of passing broken rubbish for whole bricks ;

False mustering of workmen by the day,

Deduction out of wages, and dead pay 40

For those that never liv'd ; all which did come,

By thrifty management, to no small sum.

You pull'd no lodgings down, to build them worse,

Nor repair'd others, to repair your purse,

As you were wont, till all you built appear 'd 43

Like that Amphion with his fiddle rear'd ;

For had the stones (like his),charm'd by your verse,

Built up themselves, they could not have done worse :

And sure, when first you ventur'd to survey,

You did design to do 't no other way. 50

All this was done before those days began In which you were a wise and happy man : For who e'er liv'd in such a paradise, Until fresh straw and darkness op'd your eyes ? Who ever greater treasure could command, 55 Had nobler palaces, and richer land, Than you had then, who could raise sums as vast As all the cheats of a Dutch war could waste, Or all those practis'd upon public money ? For nothing, but your cure, could have undone ye. For ever are you bound to curse those quacks ei That undertook to cure your happy cracks ; For though no art can ever make them sound, The tamp'ring cost you threescore thousand pound. How high mightyou have liv'd, and play'd,and lost, Yet been no more undone by being choust, 66 Nor forc'd upon the King's accompt to lay All that, in serving him, you lost at play ? For nothing but your brain was ever found To suffer sequestration, and compound. 70

172 A PANEGYRIC, ETC.

Yet you've an imposition laid on brick, For all you then laid out at Beast or Gleek ; And when you've rais'd a sum, strait let it fly, By understanding low and vent'ring high ; Until you have reduc'd it down to tick, 75

And then recruit again from lime and brick.

ON CRITICS

WHO JUDGE OF MODEEN PLAYS PEECISELY BY THE ET7LES OP THE ANCIENTS.*

WHO ever will regard poetic fury, When it is once found Idiot by a jury, And every pert and arbitrary fool Can all poetic license over-rule ; Assume a barb'rous tyranny, to handle 5

The Muses worse than Ostrogoth and Vandal ; Make them submit to verdict and report, And stand or fall to th' orders of a court ? Much less be sentenc'd by the arbitrary Proceedings of a witless plagiary, 10

That forges old records and ordinances Against the right and property of fancies, More false and nice than weighing of the weather To th' hundredth atom of the lightest feather, Or measuring of air upon Parnassus, is

With cylinders of Torricellian glasses ;

* This warm invective was very probably occasioned by Mr. Rymer, Historiographer to Charles II, who censured three tragedies of Beaumont's and Fletcher's.

ON CRITICS. 173

Reduce all Tragedy, by rules of art,

Back to its antique theatre, a cart,

And make them henceforth keep the beaten roads

Of rev'rend choruses and episodes ; 20

Reform and regulate a puppet-play,

According to the true and ancient way,

That not an actor shall presume to squeak,

Unless he have a license for 't in Greek ;

Nor Whittington henceforward sell his cat in 25

Plain vulgar English, without mewing Latin :

No pudding shall be suflfer'd to be witty,

Unless it be in order to raise pity ;

Nor devil in the puppet-play b' allow'd

To roar and spit fire, but to fright the crowd, so

Unless some god or demon chance t' have piques

Against an ancient family of Greeks ;

That other men may tremble, and take warning,

How such a fatal progeny they 're born in ;

For none but such for Tragedy are fitted, 35

That have been ruin'd only to be pity'd ;

And only those held proper to deter,

Who have had th' ill luck against their wills to err.

Whence only such as are of middling sizes,

Between morality and venial vices, 40

Are qualify'd to be destroy'd by Fate,

For other mortals to take warning at.

As if the antique laws of Tragedy Did with our own municipal agree, And serv'd, like cobwebs, but t' ensnare the weak, And give diversion to the great to break ; 46

To make a less delinquent to be brought To answer for a greater person's fault, And suffer all the worst the worst approver

174 ON CRITICS.

Can, to excuse and save himself, discover. so

No longer shall Dramatics be confm'd To draw true images of all mankind ; To punish in effigy criminals, Reprieve the innocent, and hang the false ; But a club-law to execute and kill, 55

For nothing, whomsoe'er they please, at will, To terrify spectators from committing The crimes they did, and suffer'd for, unwitting.

These are the reformations of the Stage, Like other reformations of the age, eo

On purpose to destroy all wit and sense As th' other did all law and conscience ; No better than the laws of British plays, Confirm'd in th' ancient good King HowelFs days, Who made a gen'ral council regulate 60

Men's catching women by the — you know what, And set down in the rubrick at what time It should be counted legal, when a crime, Declare when 'twas, and when 'twas not a sin, And on what days it went out, or came in. 70

An English poet should be tried b' his peers, And not by pedants and philosophers, Incompetent to judge poetic fury, As butchers are forbid to b' of a jury ; Besides the most intolerable wrong 75

To try their matters in a foreign tongue, By foreign jurymen, like Sophocles, Or Tales falser than Euripides ; When not an English native dares appear To be a witness for the prisoner ; so

When all the laws they use t' arraign and try The innocent and wrong'd delinquent by,

ON CBITICS. 175

Were made by a foreign lawyer, and his pupils,

To put an end to all poetic scruples,

And by th' advice of virtuosi Tuscans, 85

Determin'd all the doubts of socks and buskins ;

Gave judgment on all past and future plays,

As is apparent by Speroni's case,

Which Lope de Vega first began to steal,

And after him the French filou Corneille ; oo

And since our English plagiaries nim,

And steal their far-fet criticisms from him,

And, by an action falsely laid of Trover,

The lumber for their proper goods recover ;

Enough to furnish all the lewd impeachers, 95

Of witty Beaumont's poetry, and Fletcher's,

Who for a few misprisions of wit,

Are charg'd by those who ten times worse commit ;

And for misjudging some unhappy scenes,

Are censur'd for 't with more unlucky sense ; 100

When all their worst miscarriages delight,

And please more, than the best that pedants write.

PROLOGUE TO THE QUEEN OF ARRAGON,

ACTED BEFORE THE DTJKE OF TOEK, TJPOtf HIS BIETHDAT.

SIR, while so many nations strive to pay The tribute of their glories to this day, That gave them earnest of so great a sum Of glory (from your future acts) to come, And which you have discharg'd at such a rate, 5

176 PROLOGUE.

That all succeeding times must celebrate,

We, that subsist by your bright influence,

And have no life but what we own from thence,

Come humbly to present you, our own way,

With all we have (beside our hearts), a play. 10

But as devoutest men can pay no more

To deities, than what they gave before,

We bring you only what your great commands

Did rescue for us from engrossing hands,

That would have taken out administration 15

Of all departed poets' goods i' th' nation ;

Or, like to lords of manors, seiz'd all plays

That come within their reach, as wefts and strays,

And claim'd a forfeiture of all past wit,

But that your justice put a stop to it. 20

'Twas well for us, who else must have been glad

T' admit of all who now write new and bad ;

For still the wickeder some authors write,

Others to write worse are encourag'd by 't ;

And though those fierce inquisitors of wit, 25

The critics, spare no flesh that ever writ,

But just as tooth-draw'rs find, among the rout,

Their own teeth work in pulling others out,

So they, decrying all of all that write,

Think to erect a trade of judging by 't. so

Small poetry, like other heresies,

By being persecuted multiplies ;

But here they're like to fail of all pretence;

For he that writ this play is dead long since,

And not within their power ; for bears are said 35

To spare those that lie still, and seem but dead.

EPILOGUE. 177

EPILOGUE TO THE SAME.

TO THE DUCHESS.

1%/TADAM, the joys of this great day are due, •"••• No less than to your royal Lord, to you ; And while three mighty kingdoms pay your part, ^|ou have, what 's greater than them all, his heart ; That heart, that, when it was his country's guard, The fury of two elements out-dar'd, 6

And made a stubborn haughty enemy The terror of his dreadful conduct fly ; And yet you conquer'd it — and made your charms Appear no less victorious than his arms, 10

For which you oft have triumph'd on this day, And many more to come, Heav'n grant you may. But as great princes use, in solemn times Of joy, to pardon all but heinous crimes, If we have sinn'd without an ill intent, 15

And done below what really we meant, We humbly ask your pardon for 't, and pray You would forgive, in honour of the day.

ON PHILIP NYE'S THANKSGIVING BEARD.*

A BEARD is but the vizard of a face, J-^*- That Nature orders for no other place ;

* As our Poet has thought fit to bestow so many verses upon this trumpeter of sedition, it may, perhaps, be no thankless office to give the reader some further information about him than what merely relates to his beard. He was educated at Oxford, first in Brasen-nose College, and after -

VOL. ii. HT

178 ON PHILIP NYE'S

The fringe and tassel of a countenance, That hides his person from another man's, And, like the Roman habits of their youth, 5 Is never worn until his perfect growth ; A privilege no other creature has, To wear a nat'ral mask upon his face, That shifts its likeness every day he wears, To fit some other person's characters, 10

And by its own mythology implies, That men were born to live in some disguise. This satisfy'd a rev'rend man, that clear'd His disagreeing conscience by his Beard. H' had been preferr'd i' th' army, when the church Was taken with a Why not ? in the lurch ; ie When primate, metropolitan, and prelates, Were turn'd to officers of horse, and zealots, From whom he held the most pluralities Of contributions, donatives, and sal'ries : 20

Was held the chiefest of those spiritual trumpets, That sounded charges to their fiercest combats,

wards in Magdalen Hall, where, under the influence of a Puritanical tutor, he received the first tincture of sedition and disgust to our ecclesiastical establishment. After taking his degrees he went into orders, but soon left England to go and reside in Holland, where he was not very likely to lessen those prejudices which he had already imbibed. In the year 1640 he returned home, became a furious Presbyterian, and a zealous stickler for the Parliament, and was thought con siderable enough, in his way, to be sent by his party into Scotland, to encourage and spirit up the cause of the Covenant, in defence of which he wrote several pamphlets. However, as his zeal arose from self-interest and ambition, when the Independents began to have the ascendant, arid power and profit ran in that channel, he faced about, and became a strenuous preacher on that side ; and in this situation he was when he fell under the lash of Butler's satire.

THANKSGIVING BEARD. 179

But in the desperatest of defeats

Had never blown as opportune retreats,

Until the Synod order'd his departure 25

To London, from his caterwauling quarter,

To sit among them, as he had been chosen,

And pass or null things at his own disposing;

Could clap up souls in limbo with a vote,

And, for their fees, discharge and let them out ; so

Which made some grandees bribe him with the place

Of holding-forth upon Thanksgiving-days,

Whither the Members, two and two abreast,

March'd to take in the spoils of all — the feast,

But by the way repeated the oh-hones ss

Of his wild Irish and chromatic tones ;

His frequent and pathetic hums and haws,

He practis'd only t' animate the Cause,

With which the Sisters were so prtpossest,

They could remember nothing of the rest. 40

He thought upon it, and resolv'd to put His Beard into as wonderful a cut, And, for the further service of the women, T' abate the rigidness of his opinion ; And, but a day before, had been to find 45

The ablest virtuoso of the kind, With whom he long and seriously conferr'd On all intrigues that might concern his Beard ; By whose advice he sat for a design In little drawn, exactly to a line, so

That if the creature chance to have occasion To undergo a thorough reformation, It might be borne conveniently about, ' And by the meanest artist copy'd out.

This done, he sent a journeyman sectary ' so

180 ON PHILIP NYE'S

H' had brought up to retrieve, and fetch and carry, To find out one that had the greatest practice, To prune and bleach the beards of all Fanatics, And set their most confus'd disorders right, Not by a new design, but newer light, 60

Who us'd to shave the grandees of their sticklers, And crop the worthies of their Conventiclers ; To whom he shew'd his new-invented draught, And told him how 'twas to be copy'd out.

Quoth he, 'Tis but a false and counterfeit, c;. And scandalous device, of human wit, That 's abs'lutely forbidden in the Scripture, To make of any carnal thing the picture.

Quoth th' other saint, You must leave that to us T' agree what 's lawful, or what scandalous, 70 For, till it is determin'd by our vote, 'Tis either lawful, scandalous, or not ; Which, since we have not yet agreed upon, Is left indiff'rent to avoid or own.

Quoth he, My conscience never shall agree 75 To do it, till I know what 'tis to be ; For though I use it in a lawful time, What if it after should be made a crime ? 'Tis true we fought for liberty of conscience, 'Gainst human constitutions, in our own sense, so Which I'm resolv'd perpetually t' avow, And make it lawful, whatsoe'er we do ; Then do your office with your greatest skill, And let th' event befall us how it will.

This said, the nice barbarian took his tools, ss To prune the zealot's tenets and his jowles : Talk'd on as pertinently as he snipt, A hundred times for every hair he clipt ;

THANKSGIVING BEARD. 181

Until the Beard at length began t' appear,

And re-assume its antique character, 90

Grew more and more itself, that art might strive,

And stand in competition with the life ;

For some have doubted if 'twere made of snips

Of sables, glued and fitted to his lips,

And set in such an artificial frame, 95

As if it had been wrought in filograin,

[More subtly fil'd and polish'd than the gin

That Vulcan caught himself a cuckold in ;

That Lachesis, that spins the threads of Fate,

Could not have drawn it out more delicate. 100

But being design'd and drawn so regular, T' a scrupulous punctilio of a hair, Who could imagine that it should be portal To selfish, inward-unconforming mortal ? And yet it was, and did abominate 105

The least compliance in the Church or State, And from itself did equally dissent, As from religion and the government.

108 Among Butler's manuscripts are several other little sketches upon the same subject, but none worth printing, except the following one may be thought passable by way of note :

This rev'rend brother, like a goat,

Did wear a tail upon his throat,

The fringe and tassel of a face,

That gives it a becoming grace,

But set in such a curious frame,

As if 'twere wrought in filograin,

And cut so ev'n, as if 't had been

Drawn with a pen upon his chin.

No topiary hedge of quickset,

Was e'er so neatly cut, or thick-set,

That made beholders more admire,

Than China-plate that 's made of wire ;

182 UPON THE WEAKNESS

SATIRE UPON THE WEAKNESS AND MISERY OF MAN *

WHO would believe that wicked earth, Where Nature only brings us forth To be found guilty and forgiv'n, Should be a nursery for Heav'n ; When all we can expect to do 5

But being wrought so regular,

In every part, and every hair,

Who would believe it should be portal

To unconforming-inward mortal ?

And yet it was, and did dissent

No less from its own government,

Than from the Church's, and detest

That which it held forth and profest ;

Did equally abominate

Conformity in Church and State ;

And, like an hypocritic brother,

Profess'd one thing, and did another,

As all things, where they 're most profest,

Are found to be regarded least.

* In this composition the reader will have the pleasure of viewing Butler in a light in which he has not hitherto ap peared. Everything, almost, that he has wrote, is indeed satirical, but in an arch and droll manner, and he may be said rather to have laughed at the vices and follies of man kind than to have railed at them. In this he is serious and severe, exchanges the 'ridiculum' for the ' acri,' and writes with the spirited indignation of a Juvenal or a Persius. Good-natured readers may perhaps think the invective too bitter ; but the same good-nature will excuse the Poet, when it is considered what an edge must be given to his satirical wit by the age in which he lived, distinguished by the two extremes of hypocrisy and enthusiasm on the one part, and irreligion and immorality on the other.

AND MISERY OF MAN. 183

Will not pay half the debt we owe ;

And yet more desperately dare,

As if that wretched trifle were

Too much for the eternal Powers,

Our great and mighty creditors, 10

Not only slight what they enjoin,

But pay it in adulterate coin ?

\Ve only in their mercy trust,

^."o be more wicked and unjust ;

All our devotions, vows, and pray'rs, IB

Are our own interest, not theirs ;

Our off'rings, when we come t' adore,

But begging presents to get more ;

The purest bus'ness of our zeal

Is but to err, by meaning well, 20

And make that meaning do more harm

Than our worse deeds, that are less warm ;

For the most wretched and perverse

Does not believe himself he errs.

Our holiest actions have been 25

Th' effects of wickedness and sin ; Religious houses made compounders For th' horrid actions of the founders ; Steeples that totter'd in the air, By letchers sinn'd into repair ; 30

As if we had retain'd no sign Nor character of the divine And heav'nly part of human nature, But only the coarse earthy matter. Our universal inclination 35

Tends to the worst of our creation, As if the stars conspir'd t' imprint, In our whole species, by instinct,

184 UPON THE WEAKNESS

A fatal brand and signature

Of nothing else but the impure. 40

The best of all our actions tend

To the preposterousest end,

And, like to mongrels, we 're inclin'd

To take most to th' ignobler kind ;

Or monsters, that have always least 45

Of th' human parent, not the beast.

Hence 'tis we 've no regard at all

Of our best half original ;

But, when they differ, still assert

The int'rest of th' ignobler part ; 50

Spend all the time we have upon

The vain capriches of the one,

But grudge to spare one hour to know

What to the better part we owe.

As in all compound substances, 55

The greater still devours the less,

So, being born and bred up near

Our earthy gross relations here,

Far from the ancient nobler place

Of all our high paternal race, eo

We now degenerate, and grow

As barbarous, and mean, and low,

As modern Grecians are, and worse,

To their brave nobler ancestors.

Yet, as no barbarousness beside 65

Is half so barbarous as pride,

Nor any prouder insolence

Than that which has the least pretence,

We are so wretched to profess

A glory in our wretchedness ; 70

To vapour sillily, and rant

AND MISERY OF MAN. 185

Of our own misery and want,

And grow vain-glorious on a score

We ought much rather to deplore,

Who, the first moment of our lives, 75

Are but condemn'd, and giv'n reprieves :

And our great'st grace is not to know

When we shall pay them back, nor how,

JBegotten with a vain caprich,

And live as vainly to that pitch. so

Our pains are real things, and all Our pleasures but fantastical ; Diseases of their own accord, But cures come difficult and hard. Our noblest piles, and stateliest rooms, 85

Are but out-houses to our tombs ; Cities, though e'er so great and brave, But mere warehouses to the grave. Our bravery's but a vain disguise, To hide us from the world's dull eyes, 90

The remedy of a defect, With which our nakedness is deckt : Yet makes us swell with pride, and boast, As if w' had gain'd by being lost.

All this is nothing to the evils 95

Which men, and their confed'rate devils, Inflict, to aggravate the curse On their own hated kind much worse ; As if by nature they 'd been serv'd More gently than their fate deserv'd, 100

Take pains (in justice) to invent, And study their own punishment ; That, as their crimes should greater grow, So might their own inflictions too.

186 UPON THE WEAKNESS

Hence bloody wars at first began, 105

The artificial plague of man,

That from his own invention rise,

To scourge his own iniquities ;

That, if the heaves should chance to spare

Supplies of constant poison'd air, no

They might not, with unfit delay,

For lingering destruction stay,

Nor seek recruits of death so far,

But plague themselves with blood and war.

And if these fail, there is no good 115

Kind Nature e'er on man bestow'd, But he can easily divert To his own misery and hurt ; Make that which Heaven meant to bless Th' ungrateful world with, gentle Peace, 120

With lux'ry and excess, as fast As war and desolation, waste ; Promote mortality, and kill, As fast as arms, by sitting still ; Like earthquakes, slay without a blow, 125

And, only moving, overthrow ; Make law and equity as dear As plunder and free-quarter were,; And fierce encounters at the bar Undo as fast as those in war ; iso

Enrich bawds, whores, and usurers, Pimps, scriv'ners, silenc'd ministers, That get estates by being undone For tender conscience, and have none. Like those that with their credit drive iss

A trade, without a stock, and thrive ; Advance men in the church and state

AND MISERY OF MAN. 187

For being of the meanest rate,

Rais'd for their dotible-guiFd deserts,

Before integrity and parts ; 140

Produce more grievous complaints

For plenty, than before for wants,

And make a rich and fruitful year

A greater grievance than a dear ;

Make jests of greater dangers far, HS

l^han those they trembled at in war ;

Till, unawares, they 've laid a train

To blow the public up again ;

Rally with horror, and, in sport,

Rebellion and destruction court, 150

And make Fanatics, in despight

Of all their madness, reason right,

And vouch to all they have foreshown,

As other monsters oft have done,

Although from truth and sense as far, 155

As all their other maggots are :

For things said false, and never meant,

Do oft prove true by accident.

That wealth, that bounteous Fortune sends As presents to her dearest friends, IGO

Is oft laid out upon a purchase Of two yards long in parish churches, And those too happy men that bought it Had liv'd, and happier too, without it : For what does vast wealth bring but cheat, IGS Law, luxury, disease, and debt ; Pain, pleasure, discontent, and sport, An easy-troubled life, and short ?

168 Though this satire seems fairly transcribed for the press, yet, on a vacancy in the sheet opposite to this line, are found

188 UPON THE WEAKNESS

But all these plagues are nothing near Those, far more cruel and severe, 170

Unhappy man takes pains to find, T' infliet himself upon his mind : And out of his own bowels spins A rack and torture for his sins ; Torments himself, in vain, to know 175

That most, which he can never do : And, the more strictly 'tis deny'd, The more he is unsatisfy'd ; Is busy in finding scruples out, To languish in eternal doubt ; iso

Sees spectres in the dark, and ghosts, And starts, as horses do, at posts, And when his eyes assist him least, Discerns such subtle objects best : On hypothetic dreams and visions 135

Grounds everlasting disquisitions, And raises endless controversies On vulgar theorems and hearsays ;

the following verses, which probably were intended to be added; but as they are uot regularly inserted, they are given by way of note.

For men ne'er digg'd so deep into

The bowels of the earth below,

For metals, that are found to dwell

Near neighbour to the pit of hell,

And have a magic pow'r to sway

The greedy souls of men that way,

But with their bodies have been fain

To fill those trenches up again ;

When bloody battles have been fought

For sharing that which they took out;

For wealth is all things that conduce

To man's destruction' or his use ;

A standard both to buy and sell

All things from heaven down to helL

AND MISERY OF MAN. 189

Grows positive and confident,

In things so far beyond th' extent 190

Of human sense, he does not know

Whether they be at all or no,

And doubts as much in things that are

As plainly evident and clear ;

Disdains all useful sense, and plain, 195

TJ" apply to th' intricate and vain ;

And cracks his brains in plodding on

That which is never to be known ;

To pose himself with subtleties,

And hold no other knowledge wise ; 200

Although the subtler all things are,

They 're but to nothing the more near ;

And the less weight they can sustain,

The more he still lays on in vain,

And hangs his soul upon as nice 205

And subtle curiosities,

As one of that vast multitude

That on a needle's point have stood ;

Weighs right and wrong, and true and false,

Upon as nice and subtle scales, 210

As those that turn upon a plane

With th' hundredth part of half a grain,

And still the subtiler they move,

The sooner false and useless prove.

So man, that thinks to force and strain, 215

Beyond its natural sphere, his brain,

In vain torments it on the rack,

And, for improving, sets it back ;

Is ignorant of his own extent,

And that to which his aims are bent ; 220

Is lost in both, and breaks his blade

190 ON THE LICENTIOUS AGE

Upon the anvil where 'twas made : For, as abortions cost more pain Than vig'rous births, so all the vain And weak productions of man's wit, That aim at purposes unfit, Require more drudgery, and worse, Than those of strong and lively force.

SATIRE UPON THE LICENTIOUS AGE OF CHARLES II.*

'^TMS a strange age we 've liv'd in, and a lewd, -•- As e'er the sun in all his travels view'd ; An age as vile as ever Justice urg'd, Like a fantastic letcher, to be scourg'd ; Nor has it 'scap'd, and yet has only learn'd, 5 The more 'tis plagued, to be the less concern'd. Twice have we seen two dreadful judgments rage, Enough to fright the stubborn'st-hearted age ; The one to mow vast crowds of people down, The other (as then needless) half the Town ; 10 And two as mighty miracles restore What both had ruin'd and destroy'd before ; In all as unconcern'd as if they 'd been But pastimes for diversion to be seen,

* As the preceding satire was upon mankind in general, with some allusion to that age in which it was wrote, this is particularly levelled at the licentious and debauched times of Charles II. humorously contrasted with the Puritanical ones which went before, and is a fresh proof of the Author's impartiality, and that he was not, as is generally, bat falsely, imagined, a bigot to the Cavalier party.

OF CHARLES II. 191

Or, like the plagues of Egypt, meant a curse, 15 Not to reclaim us, but to make us worse.

Twice have men turn'd the World (that silly

blockhead)

The wrong side outward, like a juggler's pocket, Shook out hypocrisy as fast and loose As e'er the dev'l could teach, or sinners use, 20 And on- the other side at once put in As impotent iniquity and sin. As skulls that have been crack'd are often found Upon the wrong side to receive the wound ; And, like tobacco-pipes, at one end hit, 25

To break at th' other still that 's opposite ; So men, who one extravagance would shun, Into the contrary extreme have run ; And all the difference is, that as the first Provokes the other freak to prove the worst, so So, in return, that strives to render less The last delusion, with its own excess, And, like two unskill'd gamesters, use one way, With bungling t' help out one another's play. For those who heretofore sought private holes, 35 Securely in the dark to damn their souls, Wore vizards of hypocrisy, to steal And slink away in masquerade to hell, Now bring their crimes into the open sun, For all mankind to gaze their worst upon, 10

As eagles try their young against his rays, To prove if they 're of gen'rous breed or base ; Call heav'n and earth to witness how they 've aim'd, With all their utmost vigour, to be damn'd, And by their own examples, in the view 45

Of all the world, striv'd to damn others too ;

192 ON THE LICENTIOUS AGE

On all occasions sought to be as civil

As possible they could t' his grace the Devil,

To give him no unnecessary trouble,

Nor in small matters use a friend so noble, 50

But with their constant practice done their best

T' improve and propagate his interest :

For men have now made vice so great an art,

The matter of fact 's become the slightest part ;

And the debauched'st actions they can do, 65

Mere trifles to the circumstance and show.

For 'tis not what they do that 's now the sin,

But what they lewdly' affect and glory in,

As if prepost'rously they would profess

A forc'd hypocrisy of wickedness, eo

And affectation, that makes good things bad,

Must make affected shame accurs'd and mad ;

For vices for themselves may find excuse,

But never for their complement and shows ;

That if there ever were a mystery <w

Of moral secular iniquity,

And that the churches may not lose their due

By being encroach'd upon, 'tis now, and new :

For men are now as scrupulous and nice,

And tender- conscienc'd of low paltry vice ; 70

Disdain as proudly to be thought to have

To do in any mischief but the brave,

As the most scrup'lous zealot of late times

T' appear in any but the horrid'st crimes ;

Have as precise and strict punctilioes 75

Now to appear, as then to make no shows,

And steer the world by disagreeing force

Of diff 'rent customs 'gainst her nat'ral course :

So pow'rful 's ill example to encroach,

OF CHARLES II. 193

And Nature, spite of all her laws, debauch ; so

Example, that imperious dictator

Of all that 's good or bad to human nature,

By which the world 's corrupted and reclaim'd,

Hopes to be sav'd, and studies to be damn'd ;

That reconciles all contrarieties, 85

Makes wisdom foolishness, and folly wise,

Imposes on divinity, and sets

Her seal alike on truths and counterfeits ;

Alters all characters of virtue' and vice,

And passes one for th' other in disguise ; oo

Makes all things, as it pleases, understood,

The good receiv'd for bad, and bad for good ;

That slyly counter-changes wrong and right,

Like white in fields of black, and black in white ;

As if the laws of nature had been made 95

Of purpose only to be disobey^ ;

Or man had lost his mighty interest,

By having been distinguish'd from a beast ;

And had no other way but sin and vice,

To be restor'd again to Paradise. 100

How copious is our language lately grown, To make blaspheming wit, and a jargon ! And yet how expressive and significant, In damme at once to curse, and swear, and rant ! As if no way express'd men's souls so well, 105 As damning of them to the pit of hell ; Nor any asseveration were so civil, As mortgaging salvation to the devil ; Or that his name did add a charming grace, And blasphemy a purity to our phrase. 110

For what can any language more enrich, Than to pay souls for vitiating speech ;

VOL. II. 0

194 ON THE LICENTIOUS AGE

When the great'st tyrant in the world made those But lick their words out, that abus'd his prose ?

What trivial punishments did then protect 115 To public censure a profound respect, When the most shameful penance, and severe, That could be inflicted on a Cavalier For infamous debauchery, was no worse Than but to be degraded from his horse, 120

And have his livery of oats and hay, Instead of cutting spurs off, tak'n away ? They held no torture then so great as shame, And that to slay was less than to defame ; For just so much regard as men express 125

To th' censure of the public, more or less, The same will be return'd to them again, In shame or reputation, to a grain ; And, how perverse soe'er the world appears, 'Tis just to all the bad it sees and hears ; 100

And for that virtue strives to be allow'd For all the injuries it does the good.

How silly were their sages heretofore, To fright their heroes with a syren-whore ! 12-1 Make them believe a water- witch, with charms, Could sink their men-of-war as easy' as storms ; And turn their mariners, that heard them sing, Into land-porpoises, and cod, and ling ; To terrify those mighty champions, As we do children now with Bloodybones; HO Until the subtlest of their conjurers Seal'd up the labels to his soul, his ears, And ty'd his deafen'd sailors (while he pass'd The dreadful lady's lodgings) to the mast, And rather venture drowning than to wrong 145

OF CHARLES II. 195

The sea-pugs' chaste ears with a bawdy song : To b' out of countenance, and, like an ass, Not pledge the Lady Circe one beer-glass ; Unmannerly refuse her treat and wine, For fear of being turn'd into a swine, 150

When one of our heroic adventurers now Would drink her down, and turn her int' a sow.

So simple were those times, when a grave sage Could with an old wife's tale instruct the age ; Teach virtue more fantastic ways and nice, 155 Than ours will now endure t' improve in vice ; Made a dull sentence, and a moral fable. Do more than all our holdings-forth are able ; A forc'd obscure mythology convince, Beyond our worst inflictions upon sins ; IGO

When an old proverb, or an end of verse, Could more than all our penal laws coerce, And keep men honester than all our furies Of jailors, judges, constables, and juries ; Who were converted then with an old saying, 165 Better than all our preaching now, and praying. What fops had these been, had they livM with us, Where the best reason 's made ridiculous, And all the plain and sober things we say, By raillery are put beside their play ! 170

For men are grown above all knowledge now, And what they 're ignorant of disdain to know ; Engross truth (like Fanatics) underhand, And boldly judge before they understand ; The self-same courses equally advance 175

In spiritual and carnal ignorance, And, by the same degrees of confidence, Become impregnable against all sense ;

196 LICENTIOUS AGE OF CHARLES II.

For, as they outgrew ordinances then,

So would they now morality agen. iso

Though Drudgery and Knowledge are of kin,

And both descended from one parent, Sin,

And therefore seldom have been known to part,

In tracing out the ways of Truth and Art,

Yet they have north-west passages to steer 185

A short way to it, without pains or care ;

For, as implicit faith is far more stiff

Than that which understands its own belief,

So those that think, and do but think, they know,

Are far more obstinate than those that do, 100

And more averse than if they'd ne'er been taught

A wrong way, to a right one to be brought ;

Take boldness upon credit beforehand,

And grow too positive to understand ;

Believe themselves as knowing and as famous, 195

As if their gifts had gotten a mandamus,

A bill of store to take up a degree,

With all the learning to it, custom-free,

And look as big for what they bought at Court,

As if they'd done their exercises for 't. sco

SATIRE UPON GAMING.

WHAT fool would trouble Fortune more, When she has been too kind before ; Or tempt her to take back again What she had thrown away in vain, By idly venturing her good graces To be dispos'd of by alms-aces ;

UPON GAMING. 197

Or settling it in trust to uses

Out of his power, on trays and deuces ;

To put it to the chance, and try,

I' th' ballot of a box and die, 10

Whether his money be his own,

And lose it, if he be o'erthrown ;

As if he were betray'd, and set

By his own stars to every cheat ;

Or wretchedly condemn'd by Fate 15

To throw dice for his own estate ;

As mutineers, by fatal doom,

Do for their lives upon a drum ?

For what less influence can produce

So great a monster as a chouse, 20

Or any two-legg'd thing possess

With such a brutish sottishness ?

Unless those tutelary stars,

Intrusted by astrologers

To have the charge of man, combin'd 25

To use him in the self-same kind ;

As those that help'd him to the trust,

Are wont to deal with others just.

For to become so sadly dull

And stupid, as to fine for gull, so

(Not, as in cities, to b' excus'd

But to be judg'd fit to be us'd),

That whosoe'er can draw it in

Is sure inevitably t' win,

And, with a curs'd half-witted fate, 35

To grow more dully desperate,

The more 'tis made a common prey,

And cheated foppishly at play,

Is their condition ; Fate betrays

198 UPON GAMING.

To Folly first, and then destroys. 40

For what but miracles can serve

So great a madness to preserve,

As his, that ventures goods and chattels

(Where there 's no quarter given) in battles,

And fights with money-bags as bold 45

As men with sand-bags did of old ;

Puts lands, and tenements, and stocks,

Into a paltry juggler's box ;

And, like an alderman of Gotham,

Embarketh in so vile a bottom ; co

Engages blind and senseless hap

'Gainst high, and low, and slur, and knap,

(As Tartars with a man of straw

Encounter lions hand to paw), ,

With those that never venture more 55

Than they had safely' insur'd before ;

Who, when they knock the box, and shake,

Do, like the Indian rattle-snake,

But strive to ruin and destroy

Those that mistake it for fair play ; eo

That have their Fulhams at command,

Brought up to do their feats at hand,

That understand their calls and knocks,

And how to place themselves i' th' box ;

Can tell the oddses of all games, (5

And when to answer to their names ;

And, when he conjures them t' appear,

Like imps, are ready every- where :

When to play foul, and when run fair

(Out of design) upon the square, TO

And let the greedy cully win,

Only to draw him further in ;

UPON GAMING. 199

While those with which he idly plays

Have no regard to what he says,

Although he jernie and blaspheme, 75

When they miscarry, heav'n and them,

And damn his soul, and swear, and curse,

And crucify his Saviour worse

Than those Jew-troopers that threw out,

When they were raffling for his coat ; so

(Denounce revenge, as if they heard,

And rightly understood and fear'd,

And would take heed another time,

How to commit so bold a crime ;

When the poor bones are innocent, 85

Of all he did, or said, or meant,

And have as little sense, almost,

As he that damns them when h' has lost ;

As if he had rely'd upon

Their judgment rather than his own ; 90

And that it were their fault, not his,

That manag'd them himself amiss,

And gave them ill instructions how

To run, as he would have them do,

And then condemns them sillily yr»

For having no more wit than he !

SATIRE: TO A BAD POET.

GREAT famous wit ! whose rich and easy vein, Free, and unus'd to drudgery and pain, Has all Apollo's treasure at command, And how good verse is coin'd dost understand,

200 TO A BAD POET.

In all Wit's combats master of defence, 5

Tell me, how dost thou pass on rhyme and sense ? 'Tis said they' apply to thee, and in thy verse Do freely range themselves as volunteers, And without pain, or pumping for a word, Place themselves fitly of their own accord. 10 I, whom a lewd caprich (for some great crime I have committed) has condemn'd to rhyme, With slavish obstinacy vex my brain To reconcile them, but, alas ! in vain. Sometimes I set my wits upon the rack, is

And, when I would say white, the verse says black ; When I would draw a brave man to the life, It names some slave that pimps to his own wife, Or base poltroon, that would have sold his daughter, If he had met with any to have bought her. 20 When I would praise an author, the untoward Damn'd sense says Virgil, but the rhyme — ; In fine, whate'er I strive to bring about, The contrary (spite of my heart) comes out, Sometimes, enrag'd for time and pains misspent, I give it over, tir'd, and discontent, 26

And, damning the dull fiend a thousand times By whom I was possess'd, forswear all rhymes ; But, having curs'd the Muses, they appear, To be reveng'd for 't, ere I am aware. so

Spite of myself, I straight take fire agen, Fall to my task with paper, ink, and pen, And, breaking all the oaths I made, in vain From verse to verse expect their aid again.

22 'Damn'd sense says Virgil, but the rhyme — .'] This blank, and another at the close of the Poem, the Author evidently chose should be supplied by the reader. It is not my business, therefore, to deprive him of that satisfaction.

TO A BAD POET. 201

But, if my Muse or I were so discreet 35

T endure, for rhyme's sake, one dull epithet,

I might, like others, easily command

Words without study, ready and at hand.

In praising Chloris, moons, and stars, and skies,

Are quickly made to match her face and eyes — 40

And gold and rubies, with as little care,

To fit the colour of her lips and hair ;

And, mixing suns, and flowers, and pearl, and stones,

Make them serve all complexions at once.

With these fine fancies, at hap-hazard writ, 45

I could make verses without art or wit,

And, shifting forty times the verb and noun,

With stol'n impertinence patch up mine own :

But in the choice of words my scrupulous wit

Is fearful to pass one that is unfit ; so

Nor can endure to fill up a void place,

At a line's end, with one insipid phrase ;

And, therefore, when I scribble twenty times,

Whea I have written four, I blot two rhymes.

May he be damn'd who first found out that curse,

T' imprison and confine his thoughts in verse ; 56

To hang so dull a clog upon his wit,

And make his reason to his rhyme submit !

Without this plague, I freely might have spent

My happy days with leisure and content; eo

Had nothing in the world to do or think,

Like a fat priest, but whore, and eat, and drink ;

Had pass'd my time as pleasantly away,

Slept all the night, and loiter'd all the day. 64

My soul, that 's free from care, and fear, and hope,

Knows how to make her own ambition stoop,

T' avoid uneasy greatness and resort,

Or for preferment following the Court.

202 TO A BAD POET.

How happy had I been if, for a curse,

The Fates had never sentenc'd me to verse ! 70

But, ever since this peremptory vein,

With restless frenzy first possess'd my brain,

And that the devil tempted me, in spite

Of my own happiness, to judge and write,

Shut up against my will, I waste my age 7-5

In mending this, and blotting out that page,

And grow so weary of the slavish trade,

I envy their condition that write bad.

0 happy Scudery ! whose easy quill

Can, once a month, a mighty volume fill ; so

For, though thy works are written in despite

Of all good sense, impertinent, and slight,

They never have been known to stand in need

Of stationer to sell, or sot to read ;

For, so the rhyme be at the verse's end, so

No matter whither all the rest does tend.

Unhappy is that man who, spite of 's heart,

Is forc'd to be ty'd up to rules of art. „ g^j'

A fop that scribbles does it with delight,

Takes no pains to consider what to write, so

But, fond of all the nonsense he brings forth,

Is ravish'd with his own great wit and worth ;

While brave and noble writers vainly strive

To such a height of glory to arrive ;

But, still with all they do unsatisfy'd, ?">

Ne'er please themselves, though all theworldbeside:

And those whom all mankind admire for wit,

Wish, for their own sakes, they had never writ.

Thou, then, that see'st how ill I spend my time,

Teach me, for pity, how to make a rhyme ; 100

And, if th' instructions chance to prove in vain,

Teach how ne'er to write again.

203

SATIRE

UPON DUE HIDICTJLOUS IMITATION OF THE FEENCH.*

WHO would not rather get him gone Beyond th' intolerablest zone, Or steer his passage through those seas That burn in flames, or those that freeze, Than see one nation go to school, 5

And learn of another, like a fool ? To study all its tricks and fashions With epidemic affectations, And dare to wear no mode or dress, But what they in their wisdom please ; 10

As monkeys are, by being taught To put on gloves and stockings, caught ; Submit to all that they devise, As if it wore their liveries ;

Make ready' and dress th' imagination, is

Not with the clothes, but with the fashion ; And change it, to fulfil the curse Of Adam's fall, for new, though worse ; To make their breeches fall and rise From middle legs to middle thighs, 20

The tropics between which the hose

* The object of this satire was that extravagant and ridiculous imitation of the French which prevailed in Charles IPs reign, partly owing to the connection and intercourse which the politics of those times obliged us to have with that nation, and partly to our eager desire of avoiding the formal aiid precise gravity of the hypocritical age that preceded.

204 ON OUR RIDICULOUS IMITATION

Move always as the fashion goes :

Sometimes wear hats like pyramids,

And sometimes flat, like pipkins' lids ;

With broad brims, sometimes, like umbrellas, 25

And sometimes narrow' as Punchinello's :

In coldest weather go unbrac'd,

And close in hot, as if th' were lac'd ;

Sometimes with sleeves and bodies wide,

And sometimes straiter than a hide : 30

Wear perukes, and with false grey hairs

Disguise the true ones, and their years ;

That, when they 're modish, with the young

The old may seem so in the throng ;

And, as some pupils have been known 35

In time to put their tutors down,

So ours are often found t' have got

More tricks than ever they were taught ;

With sly intrigues and artifices

Usurp their poxes and their vices ; 40

With garnitures upon their shoes,

Make good their claim to gouty toes ;

By sudden starts, and shrugs, and groans,

Pretend to aches in their bones,

To scabs and botches, and lay trains 45

To prove their running of the reins ;

And, lest they should seem destitute

Of any mange that 's in repute,

And be behindhand with the mode,

Will swear to crystalline and node ; 50

And, that they may not lose their right,

Make it appear how they came by 't :

Disdain the country where they' were born,

As bastards their own mothers scorn,

OF THE FRENCH. 205

And that which brought them forth contemn, 55

As it deserves, for bearing them ;

Admire whatever they find abroad.

But nothing here, though e'er so good :

Be natives wheresoe'er they come,

And only foreigners at home ; eo

To which they' appear so far estrang'd,

As if they' d been i' th' cradle chang'd,

Or from beyond the seas convey'd

By witches — not born here, but laid ;

Or by outlandish fathers were 65

Begotten on their mothers here.

And therefore justly slight that nation

Where they 've so mongrel a relation ;

And seek out other climates, where

They may degen'rate less than here ; 70

As woodcocks, when their plumbs are grown,

Borne on the wind's wings and their own,

Forsake the countries where they 're hatch'd,

And seek out others to be catch'd ;

So they more naturally may please 75

And humour their own geniuses,

Apply to all things, which they see

With their own fancies best agree ;

No matter how ridiculous,

'Tis all one, if it be in use ; 80

For nothing can be bad or good,

But as 'tis in or out of mode ;

And, as the nations are that use it,

All ought to practise or refuse it ;

T' observe their postures, move, and stand, 85

As they give out the word o' command ;

To learn the dullest of their whims,

206 ON OUR RIDICULOUS IMITATION

And how to wear their very limbs ;

To turn and manage every part,

Like puppets, by their rules of art ; 80

To shrug discreetly, act, and tread,

And politicly shake the head,

Until the ignorant (that guess

At all things by th' appearances)

To see how Art and Nature strive, 95

Believe them really alive,

And that they 're very men, not things

That move by puppet-work and springs ;

When truly all their feats have been

As well perform'd by motion-men, 100

And the worst drolls of Punchinellos

Were much th' ingeniouser fellows ;

For, when they 're perfect in their lesson,

Th' hypothesis grows out of season,

And, all their labour lost, they 're fain 105

To learn new, and begin again ;

To talk eternally and loud,

And altogether in a crowd,

No matter what ; for in the noise .£

No man minds what another says : no

T' assume a confidence beyond

Mankind, for solid and profound,

And still the less and less they know,

The greater dose of that allow :

Decry all things ; for to be wise 115

Is not to know but to despise ;

And deep judicious confidence

Has still the odds of wit and sense,

And can pretend a title to

Far greater things than they can do : 120

OF THE FRENCH. 207

T' adorn their English with French scraps,

And give their very language claps ;

To jernie rightly, and renounce

I' th' pure and most approv'd-of tones,

And, while they idly think t' enrich, 125

Adulterate their native speech :

For though to smatter ends of Greek

Or Latin be the rhetoric

Of pedants counted, and vain-glorious,

To smatter French is meritorious ; 130

And to forget their mother tongue,

Or purposely to speak it wrong,

A hopeful sign of parts and wit,

And that they' improve and benefit ;

As those that have been taught amiss 135

In liberal arts and sciences,

Must all they'd learnt before in vs in

Forget quite, and begin again.

SATIRE UPON DRUNKENNESS.

"T~^IS pity wine, which Nature meant

JL To man in kindness to present, And gave him kindly, to caress And cherish his frail happiness, Of equal virtue to renew His weary 'd mind and body too, Should (like the cyder-tree in Eden, Which only grew to be forbidden)

208 UPON DRUNKENNESS.

No sooner come to be enjoy'd,

But th' owner 's fatally destroy'd ; 10

And that which she for good design'd,

Becomes the ruin of mankind,

That for a little vain excess

Runs out of all its happiness,

And makes the friend of Truth and Love 15

Their greatest adversary prove ;

T' abuse a blessing she bestow'd

So truly' essential to his good,

To countervail his pensive cares,

And slavish drudg'ry of affairs ; 20

To teach him judgment, wit, and sense,

And, more than all these, confidence ;

To pass his times of recreation

In choice and noble conversation,

Catch truth and reason unawares, 25

As men do health in wholesome airs,

(While fools their conversants possess,

As unawares, with sottishness) ;

To gain access a private way

To man's best sense, by its own key, so

Which painful judgers strive in vain

By any other course t' obtain ;

To pull off all disguise, and view

Things as they 're natural and true ;

Discover fools and knaves, allow'd 35

For wise and honest in the crowd ;

With innocent and virtuous sport

Make short days long, and long nights short,

And mirth the only antidote

Against diseases ere they 're got ; 40

To save health harmless from th' access

UPON DRUNKENNESS. 209

Both of the med'cine and disease ; Or make it help itself, secure Against the desperat'st fit, the cure.

All these sublime prerogatives 45

Of happiness to human lives, He vainly throws away, and slights For madness, noise, and bloody fights ; When nothing can decide, but swords And pots, the right or wrong of words, so

Like princes' titles ; and he '"s outed The justice of his cause, that 's routed.

No sooner has a charge been sounded With — ' Son of a whore/ and ' Damn'd confounded,' And the bold signal giv'n, the lie, 55

But instantly the bottles fly, Where cups and glasses are small shot, And cannon-ball a pewter pot : That blood, that 's hardly in the vein, Is now remanded back again ; GO

Though sprung from wine of the same piece, And near a-kin within degrees, Strives to commit assassinations On its own natural relations ; And those twin-spirits, so kind-hearted, 65

That from their friends so lately parted, No sooner several ways are gone, But by themselves are set upon, Surpris'd like brother against brother, And put to th' sword by one another : 70

So much more fierce are civil wars, Than those between mere foreigners ; And man himself, with wine possest, More savage than the wildest beast.

VOL. n. p

210 UPON DRUNKENNESS.

For serpents, when they meet to water, 75

Lay by their poison and their nature ;

And fiercest creatures, that repair,

In thirsty deserts, to their rare

And distant rivers' banks to drink,

In love and close alliance link, so

And from their mixture of strange seeds

Produce new never-heard-of breeds,

To whom the fiercer unicorn

Begins a large health with his horn ;

As cuckolds put their antidotes, 8-3

When they drink coffee, into th' pots :

While man, with raging drink inflam'd,

Is far more savage and untam'd ;

Supplies his loss of wit and sense

With barb'rousness and insolence ; 90

Believes himself, the less he 's able,

The more heroic and formidable ;

Lays by his reason in his bowls,

As Turks are said to do their souls,

Until it has so often been 95

Shut out of its lodging, and let in,

At length it never can attain

To find the right way back again ;

Drinks all his time away, and prunes

The end of 's life, as Vignerons 100

Cut short the branches of a vine,

To make it bear more plenty o' wine ;

And that which Nature did intend

T' enlarge his life, perverts t' its end.

So Noah, when he anchor'd safe on 105

The mountain's top, his lofty haven, And all the passengers he bore

UPON DRUNKENNESS. 211

Were on the new world set ashore,

He made it next his chief design

To plant and propagate a vine, no

Which since has overwhelm'd and drown'd

Far greater numbers, on dry ground,

Of wretched mankind, one by one,

Than all the flood before had done.

SATIRE UPON MARRIAGE.

SURE marriages were never so well fitted, As when to matrimony' men were committed, Like thieves by justices, and to a wife Bound, like to good behaviour, during life : For then 'twas but a civil contract made 5

Between two partners that set up a trade ; And if both fail'd, there was no conscience Nor faith invaded in the strictest sense ; No canon of the church, nor vow, was broke When men did free their gall'd necks from the yoke ; But when they tir'd, like other horned beasts, n Might have it taken off, and take their rests. Without b'ing bound in duty to shew cause, Or reckon with divine or human laws.

For since, what use of matrimony' has been 15 But to make gallantry a greater sin ? As if there were no appetite nor gust, Below adultery, in modish lust ; Or no debauchery were exquisite, Until it has attain'd its perfect height. 20

212 UPON MARRIAGE.

For men do now take wives to nobler ends,

Not to bear children, but to bear them friends ;

Whom nothing can oblige at such a rate

As these endearing offices of late.

For men are now grown wise, and understand 25

How to improve their crimes, as well as land ;

And if they 've issue, make the infants pay

Down for their own begetting on the day,

The charges of the gossiping disburse, 29

And pay beforehand (ere they 're born) the nurse ;

As he that got a monster on a cow,

Out of design of setting up a show.

For why should not the brats for all account,

As well as for the christ'ning at the fount, 34

When those that stand for them lay down the rate

0' th' banquet and the priest in spoons and plate ?

The ancient Romans made the state allow For getting all men's children above two : Then married men, to propagate the breed, Had great rewards for what they never did, 40 Were privileg'd, and highly honour'd too, For owning what their friends were fain to do ; For so they'd children, they regarded not By whom (good men) or how they were begot. To borrow wives (like money) or to lend, -15

Was then the civil office of a friend, And he that made a scruple in the case, Was held a miserable wretch and base ; For when they'd children by them, th' honest men Return'd them to their husbands back again. so Then for th' encouragement and propagation Of such a great concernment to the nation, All people were so full of complacence,

UPON MARRIAGE. 213

And civil duty to the public sense,

They had no name t' express a cuckold then, 55

But that which signified all married men ;

Nor was the thing accounted a disgrace,

Unless among the dirty populace,

And no man understands on what account

Less civil nations after hit upon 't : 60

for to be known a cuckold can be no

Dishonour, but to him that thinks it so ;

For if he feel no chagrin or remorse,

His forehead 's shot-free, and he 's ne'er the worse :

For horns (like horny calluses) are found e?

To grow on skulls that have receiv'd a wound,

Are crackt, and broken ; not at all on those

That are invnlnerate and free from blows.

What a brave time had cuckold-makers then,

When they were held the worthiest of men, 70

The real fathers of the commonwealth,

That planted colonies in Rome itself !

Wrhen he that help'd his neighbours, and begot

Most Romans, was the noblest patriot !

For if a brave man, that preserv'd from death io

One citizen, was honour'd with a wreath,

He that more gallantly got three or four,

In reason must deserve a great deal more,

Then if those glorious worthies of old Rome,

That civiliz'd the world they'd overcome, so

And taught it laws and learning, found this way

The best to save their empire from decay,

Why should not these, that borrow all the worth

They have from them, not take this lesson forth,

Get children, friends, and honour too, and money,

By prudent managing of matrimony ? 85

214 UPON MARRIAGE.

For if 'tis hon'rable by all confest,

Adult'ry must be worshipful at least,

And these times great, when private men are come

Up to the height and politic of Rome. 90

All by-blows were not only free-born then,

But, like John Lilburn, free-begotten men ;

Had equal right and privilege with these

That claim by title right of the four seas :

For being in marriage born, it matters not 95

After what liturgy they were begot ;

And if there be a difference, they have

Th' advantage of the chance in proving brave,

By being engender'd with more life and force

Than those begotten the dull way of course. 100

The Chinese place all piety and zeal In serving with their wives the commonweal ; Fix all their hopes of merit and salvation Upon their women's supererogation ; With solemn vows their wives and daughters bind, Like Eve in Paradise, to all mankind ; ioe

And those that can produce the most gallants, Are held the preciousest of all their saints ; Wear rosaries about their necks, to con Their exercises of devotion on ; no

That serve them for certificates, to show With what vast numbers they have had to do : Before they 're marry 'd make a conscience T' omit no duty of incontinence ; And she that has been oft'nest prostituted, 115 Is worthy of the greatest match reputed. But when the conqu'ring Tartar went about To root this orthodox religion out, They stood for conscience, and resolv'd to die,

UPON MARRIAGE. 215

Rather than change the ancient purity 120

Of that religion, which their ancestors And they had prosper 'd in so many years ; Vow'd to their gods to sacrifice their lives, And die their daughters' martyrs and their wives', Before they would commit so great a sin 125

Against the faith they had been bred up in.

SATIRE UPON PLAGIARIES.*

WHY should the world be so averse To plagiary privateers, That all men's sense and fancy seize, And make free prize of what they please ? As if, because they huff and swell, 5

Like pilf rers, full of what they steal, Others might equal pow'r assume, To pay them with as hard a doom ; To shut them up, like beasts in pounds, For breaking into others' grounds ; 10

* It is not improbable but that Butler, in this satire, or sneering apology for the plagiary, obliquely hints at Sir John Denham, whom he has directly attacked in a preceding poem.

Butler was not pleased with the two first lines of this com position, as appears by his altering them in the margin, thus:

Why should the world be so severe To every small-wit privateer ?

And indeed the alteration is much for the better ; but as it would not connect grammatically with what follows, it is not here adopted.

216 UPON PLAGIARIES.

Mark them with characters and brands,

Like other forgers of men's hands,

And in effigy hang and draw

The poor delinquents by club-law,

When no indictment justly lies, 15

But where the theft will bear a price.

For though wit never can be learn'd, It may b' assum'd, and own'd, and earn'd, And, like our noblest fruits, improv'd, By b'ing transplanted and remov'd ; 20

And as it bears no certain rate, Nor pays one penny to the state, With which it turns no more t' account Than virtue, faith, and merit 's wont, Is neither moveable, nor rent, 23

Nor chattel, goods, nor tenement, Nor was it ever pass'd b' entail, Nor settled upon the heirs-male ; Or if it were, like ill-got land, Did never fall t' a second hand ; 30

So 'tis no more to be engross'd, Than sun-shine or the air inclos'd, Or to propriety confm'd, Than th' uncontroll'd and scatter'd wind.

For why should that which Nature meant cs To owe its being to its vent, That has no value of its own But as it is divulg'd and known, Is perishable and destroy'd

As long as it lies unenjoy'd, 40

Be scanted of that lib'ral use Which all mankind is free to choose, And idly hoarded where 'twas bred,

UPON PLAGIARIES. 217

Instead of being dispers'd and spread ?

And the more lavish and profuse, 45

'Tis of the nobler general use ;

As riots, though supply'd by stealth,

Are wholesome to the commonwealth,

And men spend freelier what they win,

Than what they 've freely coming in. co

The world 's as full of curious wit [Which those, that father, never writ, As 'tis of bastards, which the sot And cuckold owns that ne'er begot ; Yet pass as well as if the one £5

And th' other by-blow were their own. For why should he that 's impotent To judge, and fancy, and invent, For that impediment be stopt To own, and challenge, and adopt. eo

At least th' expos'd and fatherless Poor orphans of the pen and press, Whose parents are obscure or dead, Or in far countries born and bred ?

As none but kings have pow'r to raise 65

A levy which the subject pays, And though they call that tax a loan, Yet when 'tis gather'd 'tis their own ; So he that 's able to impose A wit-excise on verse or prose, 70

And still the abler authors are Can make them pay the greater share, Is prince of poets of his time, And they his vassals that supply' him ; Can judge more justly of what he takes 73

Than any of the best he makes,

218 UPON PLAGIARIES.

And more impartially conceive

What 's fit to choose, and what to leave.

For men reflect more strictly' upon

The sense of others than their own ; 80

And wit, that 's made of wit and sleight,

Is richer than the plain downright :

As salt that 's made of salt 's more fine

Than when it first came from the brine,

And spirits of a nobler nature £5

Drawn from the dull ingredient matter.

Hence mighty Virgil 's said, of old, From dung to have extracted gold, (As many a lout and silly clown By his instructions since has done), 90

And grew more lofty by that means Than by his livery- oats and beans, When from his carts and country farms He rose a mighty man at arms, To whom th' Heroics ever since 95

Have sworn allegiance as their prince, And faithfully have in all times Observ'd his customs in their rhymes.

'Twas counted learning once, and wit, To void but what some author writ, 100

And what men understood by rote, By as implicit sense to quote : Then many a magisterial clerk Was taught, like singing birds, i' th' dark, And understood as much of things, 105

As th' ablest blackbird what it sings ; And yet was honour'd and renown'd For grave, and solid, and profound. Then why should those who pick and choose

UPON PLAGIARIES. 219

The best of all the best compose, no

And join it by Mosaic art,

In graceful order, part to part,

To make the whole in beauty suit,

Not merit as complete repute

As those who with less art and pains 115

Can do it with their native brains,

And make the home-spun business fit

As freely with their mother-wit,

Since what by Nature was deny'd,

By art and industry 's supply'd, 120

Both which are more our own, and brave,

Than all the alms that Nature gave ?

For what w' acquire by pains and art

Is only due t' our own desert ;

While all the endowments she confers, 125

Are not so much our own as hers-

That, like good fortune, unawares,

Fall not t' our virtue, but our shares,

And all we can pretend to merit

We do not purchase, but inherit. iso

Thus all the great'st inventions, when They first were found out, Were so mean, That th' authors of them are unknown, As little things they scorn'd to own ; Until by men of nobler thought 135

They' were to their full perfection brought. This proves that Wit does but rough-hew, Leaves Art to polish and review, And that a wit at second hand Has greatest int'rest and command ; HO

For to improve, dispose, and judge, Is nobler than t' invent and drudge.

220 UPON PLAGIARIES.

Invention 's humorous and nice, And never at command applies ; Disdains t' obey the proudest wit, ii-5

Unless it chance to b' in the fit, (Like prophecy, that can presage Successes of the latest age, Yet is not able to tell when

It next shall prophesy agen) : 150

Makes all her suitors course and wait Like a proud minister of state, And, when she 's serious, in some freak Extravagant, and vain, and weak, Attend her silly lazy pleasure, 155

Until she chance to be at leisure ; When 'tis more easy to steal wit, To clip, and forge, and counterfeit, Is both the business and delight, Like hunting-sports, of those that write ; 160

For thievery is but one sort, The learned say, of hunting-sport.

Hence 'tis that some, who set up first As raw, and wretched, and unverst, And open'd with a stock as poor 165

As a healthy beggar with one sore ; That never writ in prose or verse, But piclrd, or cut it, like a purse, And at the best could but commit The petty larceny of wit, 170

To whom to write was to purloin, And printing but to stamp false coin ; Yet after long and sturdy' endeavours Of being painful wit-receivers, With gath'ring rags and scraps of wit, ITS

UPON PLAGIARIES. 221

As paper 's made on which 'tis writ,

Have gone forth authors, and acquir'd

The right — or wrong to be admir'd,

And, arm'd with confidence, incurr'd

The fool's good luck, to be preferr'd. iso

For as a banker can dispose Of greater sums he only owes, Than he who honestly is known to deal in nothing but his own, So whosoe'er can take up most, iss

May greatest fame and credit boast.

SATIRE

IN TWO PAETS, UPON THE IMPERFECTION AND ABUSE OF HUMAN LEARNING.*

PAST I.

IT is the noblest act of human reason To free itself from slavish prepossession, Assume the legal right to disengage From all it had contracted under age,

* In the large General Dictionary, or Bayle's enlarged by Mr. Bernard, Birch, and Lockman, we are told by the learned editors, under the article ' Hudibras,' that they were personally informed by the late Mr. Longueville — That amongst the genuine remains of Butler, which were in his hands, there was a poem, entitled 'The History of Learning.' To the same purpose is the following passage cited from ' The Poetical Register,' vol. ii. p. 21. — "In justice to the public, it is thought proper to declare, that all the manuscripts Mr.

222 UPON THE ABUSE

And not its ingenuity and wit 5

To all it was imbued with first submit ; Take true or false, for better or for worse, To have or t' hold indifferently of course.

For custom, though but usher of the school Where Nature breeds the body and the soul, 10 Usurps a greater pow'r and interest O'er man, the heir of Reason, than brute beast, That by two different instincts is led, Born to the one, and to the other bred, And trains him up with rudiments more false 15

Butler left behind him are now in the custody of Mr. Longue- ville (among which is one, entitled ' The history of Learning,' written after the manner of Hudibras), and that not one line of those poems lately published under his name is genuine."

As these authorities must have given the world reason to. expect, in this Work, a poem of this sort, it becomes necessary to inform the public that Butler did meditate a pretty long satire upon the imperfection and abuse of Human Learning, but that he only finished this first part of it, though he has left very considerable and interesting fragments of the re mainder, some of which are subjoined.

The Poet's plan seems to have consisted of two parts ; the first, which he has executed, is to expose the defects of Human Learning, from the wrong methods of education, from the natural imperfection of the human mind, and from that over-eagerness of men to know things above the reach of human capacity. The second, as far as one can judge by the ' Remains,' and intended parts of it, was to have exempli fied what he has asserted in the first, and ridiculed and satirized the different branches of Human Learning, in cha racterizing the philosopher, critic, orator, &c.

Mr. Longueville might be led, by this, into the mistake of calling this work ' A History of Learning ; ' or perhaps it might arise from Butler's having, in one plan, which he afterwards altered, begun with these two lines,

The history of learning is so lame,

That few can tell from whence at first it came.

OF HUMAN LEARNING. 223

Than Nature does her stupid animals ;

And that's one reason why more care's bestow'd

Upon the body than the soul 's allow'd,

That is not found to understand and know

So subtly as the body 's found to grow. 20

Though children without study, pains, or thought, Are languages and vulgar notions taught, Improve their nat'ral talents without care, i And apprehend before they are aware, Yet as all strangers never leave the tones 25

They have been us'd of children to pronounce, So most men's reason never can outgrow The discipline it first receiv'd to know, But renders words they first began to con, The end of all that 's after to be known, so

And sets the help of education back, Worse than, without it, man could ever lack ; Who, therefore, finds the artificial'st fools Have not been chang'd i' th' cradle but the schools, Where error, pedantry, and affectation, 3-3

Run them behind-hand with their education, And all alike are taught poetic rage, When hardly one 's fit for it in an age.

No sooner are the organs of the brain Quick to receive, and steadfast to retain 40

Best knowledges, but all 's laid out upon Retrieving of the curse of Babylon, To make confounded languages restore A greater drudg'ry than it barr'd before : And therefore those imported from the East, 45 Where first they were incurr'd, are held the best, Although convey'd in worse Arabian pot-hooks Than gifted tradesmen scratch in sermon note books;

224 UPON THE ABUSE

Are really but pains and labour lost, And not worth half the drudgery they cost, so Unless, like rarities, as they Ve been brought From foreign climates, and as dearly bought, When those who had no other but their own, Have all succeeding eloquence outdone ; As men that wink with one eye see more true, 55 And take their aim much better than with two : For the more languages a man can speak, His talent has but sprung the greater leak ; And for the industry h' has spent upon 't, Must full as much some other way discount. co The Hebrew, Chaldee, and the Syriac, Do, like their letters, set men's reason back, And turn their wits that strive to understand it, (Like those that write the characters) left-handed: Yet he that is but able to express 60

No sense at all in several languages, Will pass for learn eder than he that 's known To speak the strongest reason in his own. These are the modern arts of education, With all the learned of mankind in fashion, 1 - 10 But practis'd only with the rod and whip, As riding-schools inculcate horsemanship ; Or Romish penitents let out their skins, To bear the penalties of others' sins. When letters, at the first, were meant for play, 73 And only us'd to pass the time away, When th' ancient Greeks and Romans had no name To express a school and playhouse, but the same, And in their languages so long agone, To study or be idle was all one ; so

For nothing more preserves men in their wits, Than giving of them leave to play by fits,

OF HUMAN LEARNING. 225

In dreams to sport, and ramble with all fancies,

And waking, little less extravagances,

The rest and recreation of tir'd thought, 85

When 'tis run down with care and overwrought,

Of which whoever does not freely take

His constant share, is never broad awake,

And when he wants an eqilal competence

Of both recruits, abates as much of sense. 90

[Nor is their education worse design'd Than Nature (in her province) proves unkind : The greatest inclinations with the least Capacities are fatally possest, 94

Condemn'd to drudge, and labour, and take pains, Without an equal competence of brains ; While those she has indulg'd in, soul and body, Are most averse to industry and study, And th' activ'st fancies share as loope alloys, For want of equal weight to counterpoise. 100 But when those great conveniences meet, Of equal judgment, industry, and wit, The one but strives the other to divert, While Fate and Custom in the feud take part, And scholars by prepost'rous over-doing, 105

And under-judging, all their projects ruin : Who, though the understanding of mankind Within so strait a compass is confin'd, Disdain the limits Nature sets to bound The wit of man, and vainly rove beyond. no

The bravest soldiers scorn, until they 're got Close to the enemy, to make a shot ; Yet great philosophers delight to stretch Their talents most at things beyond their reach, And proudly think t' unriddle ey'ry cause no

VOL. II. Q

226 UPON THE ABUSE

That Nature uses, by their own bye-laws ;

When 'tis not only' impertinent, but rude,

Where she denies admission, to intrude ;

And all their industry is but to err,

Unless they have free quarantine from her ; 120

Whence 'tis the world the less has understood,

By striving to know more than 'tis allow'd.

For Adam, with the loss of Paradise, Bought knowledge at too desperate a price And ever since that miserable fate 125

Learning did never cost an easier rate ; For though the most divine and sov'reign good That Nature has upon mankind bestow'd, Yet it has prov'd a greater hinderance To th' interest of truth than ignorance, isc

And therefore never bore so high a value As when 'twas low, contemptible, and shallow ; Had academies, schools, and colleges, Endow'd for its improvement and increase ; 134 With pomp and show was introduc'd with maces, More than a Roman magistrate had fasces ; Impower'd with statute, privilege, and mandate, T' assume an art, and after understand it ; Like bills of store for taking a degree, With all the learning to it custom-free ; 140

And own professions, which they never took So much delight in, as to read one book : Like princes, had prerogative to give Convicted malefactors a reprieve ; And having but a little paltry wit HO

More than the world, reduc'd and govern'd it ; But scorn'd as soon as 'twas but understood, As better is a spiteful foe to good,

OF HUMAN LEARNING. 227

And now has nothing left for its support,

But what the darkest times provided for 't. iso

Man has a natural desire to know, But th' one half is for int'rest, th' other show : As scriveners take more pains to learn the sleight Of making knots, than all the hands they write : So all his study is not to extend 155

The bounds of knowledge, but some vainer end ; T' appear and pass for learned, though his claim Will hardly reach beyond the empty name : For most of those that drudge and labour hard, Furnish their understandings by the yard, ieo As a French library by the whole is So much an ell for quartos and for folios ; To which they are but indexes themselves, And understand no further than the shelves ; But smatter with their titles and editions, 165 And place them in their classical partitions ; When all a student knows of what he reads Is not in 's own, but under general heads Of common-places, not in his own pow'r, But, like a Dutchman's money, i' the Cantore, no Where all he can make of it at the best, Is hardly three per cent for interest ; And whether he will ever get it out Into his own possession is a doubt : Affects all books of past and modern ages, 175 But reads no further than their title-pages, Only to con the authors' names by rote, Or, at the best, those of the books they quote, Enough to challenge intimate acquaintance With all the learned Moderns and the Ancients, iso As Roman noblemen were wont to greet,

228 FRAGMENTS UPON THE

And compliment the rabble in the street, Had nomenclators in their trains, to claim Acquaintance with the meanest by his name, And by so mean contemptible a bribe IP.O

Trepann'd the suffrages of every tribe ; So learned men, by authors' names unknown, Have gain'd no small improvement to their own, And he 's esteem'd the learned'st of all others, That has the largest catalogue of authors. 190

FRAGMENTS*

OF AN INTENDED SECOND PART OF THE FOKEGOING SATIBE.

MEN'S talents grow more bold and confident, The further they 're beyond their just extent, As smatt'rers prove more arrogant and pert, The less they truly understand an art ; And, where they've least capacity to doubt, 5

Are wont t' appear most perempt'ry and stout ; While those that know the mathematic lines

* These ' Fragments ' were fairly written out, nnd several times, with some little variations, transcribed by Butler, but never connected, or reduced into any regular form. They may be considered as the principal parts of a curious edifice, each separately finished, but not united into one general design.

From these the reader may form a notion and tolerable idea of our author's intended scheme, and will regret, that he did not apply himself to the finishing of a satire so well suited to his judgment and particular turn of wit.

ABUSE OF HUMAN LEARNING. 229

Where Nature all the wit of man confines,

And when it keeps within its bounds, and where

It acts beyond the limits of its sphere, 10

Enjoy an absoluter free command

O'er all they have a right to understand,

Than those that falsely venture to encroach

Where Nature has dcny'd them all approach ;

And still the more they strive to understand, 15

Likle" great estates, run furthest behindhand ;

Will undertake the universe to fathom,

From infinite down to a single atom,

Without a geometric instrument,

To take their own capacity's extent ; 20

Can tell as easy how the world was made

As if they had been brought up to the trade,

And whether Chance, Necessity, or Matter,

Contriv'd the whole establishment of Nature ;

When all their wits to understand the world 25

Can never tell why a pig's tail is curl'd,

Or give a rational account why fish,

That always use to drink, do never piss.

WHAT mad fantastic gambols have been play'd

By th' ancient Greek forefathers of the trade, so

That were not much inferior to the freaks

Of all our lunatic fanatic sects ?

The first and best philosopher of Athens

Wascrackt,and ran stark-staring mad with patience,

And had no other way to show his wit, 35

But when his wife was in her scolding fit ;

Was after in the Pagan inquisition,

And suffer 'd martyrdom for no religion.

Next him, his scholar, striving to expel

230 FRAGMENTS UPON THE

All poets his poetic commonweal, 40

Exil'd himself, and all his followers,

Notorious poets, only bating verse.

The Stagyrite, unable to expound

The Euripus, leapt into 't, and was drown'd ;

So he that put his eyes out, to consider 45

And contemplate on nat'ral things the steadier,

Did but himself for idiot convince,

Though reverenc'd by the learned ever since. '

Empedocles, to be cstcem'd a god,

Leapt" into ^Etna, with his sandals shod, 50

That b'ing blown out, discover'd what an ass

The great philosopher and juggler was,

That to his own new deity sacrific'd,

And was himself the victim and the priest.

The Cynic coin'd false money, and for fear 55

Of being hang'd for 't, turn'd philosopher ;

Yet with his lantern went, by day, to find

One honest man i' th' heap of all mankind ;

An idle freak he needed not have done,

If he had known himself to be but one. GO

With swarms of maggots of the self-same rate,

The learned of all ages celebrate ;

Things that are properer for Knightsbridge college,

Than th' authors and originals of knowledge ;

More sottish than the two fanatics, trying 65

To mend the world by laughing or by crying ;

Or he that laugh'd until he chok'd his whistle,

To rally on an ass that ate a thistle ;

That th' antique sage, that was gallant t' a goose,

A fitter mistress could not pick and choose, 70

Whose tempers, inclinations, sense, and wit,

Like two indentures, did agree so fit.

ABUSE OF HUMAN LEARNING. 231

THE ancient sceptics constantly deny'd What they maintain'd, and thought they justify'd ; For when th' affirm'd that nothing 's to be known, They did but what they said before disown ; 76 And, like Polemics of the Post, pronounce The same thing to be true and false at once.

These follies had such influence on the rabble, As to engage them in perpetual squabble ; so

Divided Rome and Athens into clans Of ignorant mechanic partisans ; That, to maintain their own hypotheses, Broke one another's blockheads, and the peace ; Were often set by officers i' th' stocks 85

For quarrelling about a paradox : When pudding-wives were latmcht in cock-quean

stools

For falling foul on oyster- women's schools ; No herb-women sold cabbages or onions But to their gossips of their own opinions ; 90 A Peripatetic cobbler scorn'd to sole A pair of shoes of any other school ; And porters of the judgment of the Stoics, To go an errand of the Cyrenaics ; That us'd t' encounter in athletic lists, 05

With beard to beard, and teeth and nails to fists, Like modern kicks and cuffs among the youth Of academics, to maintain the truth. But in the boldest feats of arms the Stoic And Epicureans were the most heroic, 100

That stoutly ventur'd breaking of their necks, To vindicate the int'rests of their sects, And still behav'd themselves as resolute In waging cuffs and bruises as dispute, 104

232 FRAGMENTS UPON THE

Until with wounds and bruises which th' had got, Some hundreds were kill'd dead upon the spot ; When all their quarrels, rightly understood, Were but to prove disputes the sov'reign good.

DISTINCTIONS, that had been at first design'd To regulate the errors of the mind, no

By b'ing too nicely overstrain'd and vext Have made the comment harder than the text, And do not now, like carving, hit the joint, But break the bones in pieces of a point, And with impertinent evasions force 115

The clearest reason from its native course — That argue things so' uncertain, 'tis no mattei Whether they are, or never were, in nature ; And venture to demonstrate, when th' have slurr'd And palm'd a fallacy upon a word. 120

For disputants (as swordsmen use to fence With blunted foils) engage with blunted sense ; And as they 're wont to falsify a blow, Use nothing else to pass upon the foe ; Or if they venture further to attack, 125

Like bowlers, strive to beat away the jack ; And, when they find themselves too hardly prest 0:1, Prevaricate, and change the state o' th' question ; The noblest science of defence and art In practice now with all that controvert, 130

And th' only mode of prizes, from Bear-garden Down to the schools, in giving blows, or warding.

As old knights- errant in their harness fought

As safe as in a castle or redoubt,

Gave one another desperate attacks, 135

ABUSE OF HUMAN LEARNING. 233

To storm the counterscarps upon their backs ; So disputants advance, and post their arms, To storm the works of one another's terms ; Fall foul on some extravagant expression, 1:39

But ne'er attempt the main design and reason — So some polemics use to draw their swords Against the language only and the words ; As he who fought at barriers with Salmasius, Engag'd with nothing but his style and phrases, Waiv'd to assert the murder of a prince, HS

The author of false Latin to convince ; But laid the merits of the cause aside, By those that understood them to be try'd ; And counted breaking Priscian's head a thing More capital, than to behead a king, 150

For which h' has been admir'd by all the learn 'd Of knaves concern'd, and pedants unconcern'd.

JUDGMENT is but a curious pair of scales,

That turns with th' hundreth part of true or false,

And still the more 'tis us'd is wont t' abate 155

The subtlety and niceness of its weight,

Until 'tis false, and will not rise nor fall,

Like those that are less artificial ;

And therefore students, in their ways of judging,

Are fain to swallow many a senseless gudgeon, ieo

And by their over-understanding lose

Its active faculty with too much use ;

For reason, when too curiously 'tis spun,

Is but the next of all remov'd from none —

It is Opinion governs all mankind, 165

As wisely as the blind that leads the blind : For as those surnames are esteem'd the best

234 FRAGMENTS UPON THE

That signify in all things else the least,

So men pass fairest in the world's opinion

That have the least of truth and reason in them.

Truth would undo the world, if it possest 171

The meanest of its right and interest ;

Is but a titular princess, whose authority

Is always under age, and in minority ;

Has all things done, and carried in its name, ITS

But most of all where it can lay no claim ;

As far from gaiety and complaisance,

As greatness, insolence, and ignorance ;

And therefore has surrender'd her dominion

O'er all mankind to barbarous Opinion, iso

That in her right usurps the tyrannies

And arbitrary government of lies —

As no tricks on the rope but those that break, Or come most near to breaking of a neck, Are worth the sight, so nothing goes for wit 135 But nonsense, or the next of all to it : For nonsense being neither false nor true, A little wit to any thing may screw ; And, when it has a while been us'd, of course Will stand as well in virtue, pow'r, and force, 100 And pass for sense t' all purposes as good As if it had at first been understood ; For nonsense has the amplest privileges, And more than all the strongest sense obliges, That furnishes the schools with terms of art, 195 The mysteries of science to impart ; Supplies all seminaries with recruits Of endless controversies and disputes ; For learned nonsense has a deeper sound Than easy sense, and goes for more profound, 200

ABUSE OF HUMAN LEARNING. 235

FOR all our learned authors now compile At charge of nothing but the words and style, And the most curious critics or the learned Believe themselves in nothing else concerned ; For as it is the garniture and dress 205

That all things wear in books and languages, (And all men's qualities are wont t' appear According to the habits that they wear), "Tis probable to bo the truest test Of all the ingenuity o' th' rest. 210

The lives of trees lie only in the barks, And in their styles the wit of greatest clerks ; Hence 'twas the ancient Roman politicians Went to the schools of foreign rhetoricians, To learn the art of patrons, in defence 215

Of int'rest and their clients — eloquence ; When consuls, censors, senators, and praetors, With great dictators, us'd t' apply to rhetors, To hear the greater magistrate o' th' school Give sentence in his haughty chair-curule, 220 And those who mighty nations overcame, Were fain to say their lessons, and declaim.

Words are but pictures, true or false, design' d To draw the lines and features of the mind ; The characters and artificial draughts 225

T' express the inward images of thoughts ; And artists say a picture may be good, Although the moral be not understood ; Whence some infer they may admire a style, Though all the rest be e'er so mean and vile ; 230 Applaud th' outsides of words, but never mind With what fantastic tawdry they are lin'd.

So orators, enchanted with the twang

236 FRAGMENTS UPON THE

Of their own trillos, take delight t' harangue ; Whose science, like a juggler's box and balls, 235 Conveys and counterchanges true and false ; Casts mists before an audience's eyes, To pass the one for th' other in disguise ; And, like a morrice-dancer dress'd with bells, Only to serve for noise and nothing else, 240

Such as a carrier makes his cattle wear, And hangs for pendents in a horse's ear ; For if the language will but bear the test, No matter what becomes t>f all the rest : The ablest orator, to save a word, 2<ir>

Would throw all sense and reason overboard. Hence 'tis that nothing else but eloquence Is ty'd to such a prodigal expense ; That lays out half the wit and sense it uses Upon the other half's as vain excuses : 2oO

For all defences and apologies Are but specifics t' other frauds and lies ; And th' artificial wash of eloquence Is daub'd in vain upon the clearest sense, Only to stain the native ingenuity 255

Of equal brevity and perspicuity, Whilst all the best and sob'rest things he does Are when he coughs, or spits, or blows his nose ; Handles no point so evident and clear (Besides his white gloves) as his handkercher, 2t;o Unfolds the nicest scruple so distinct As if his talent had been wrapt up in 't Unthriftily, and now he went about Henceforward to improve and put it out.

THE pedants are a mongrel breed, that sojourn a» Among the ancient writers and the modern ;

ABUSE OF HUMAN LEARNING. 237

And, while their studies are between the one And th' other spent, have nothing of their own ; Like sponges, are both plants and animals, And equally to both their natures false : 270

For whether 'tis their want of conversation Inclines them to all sorts of affectation ; Their sedentary life and melancholy, The everlasting nursery of folly ; (Their poring upon black and white too subtly 275 Has turn'd the insides of their brains to motley ; Or squand'ring of their wits and time upon Too many things has made them fit for none ; Their constant overstraining of the mind Distorts the brain, as horses break their wind ; sso Or rude confusions of the things they read Get up, like noxious vapours, in the head, Until they have their constant wanes, and fulls, And changes, in the insides of their skulls ; Or venturing beyond the reach of wit £80

Has render'd them for all things else unfit, But never bring the world and books together, And therefore never rightly judge of either ; Whence multitudes of rev'rend men and critics Have got a kind of intellectual rickets, noo

And by th' immoderate excess of study Have found the sickly head t' outgrow the body.

For pedantry is but a corn or wart, Bred in the skin of judgment, sense, and art, A stupify'd excrescence, like a wen, 295

Fed by the peccant humours of learn'd men, That never grows from natural defects Of downright and untutor'd intellects, But from the over-curious and vain Distempers of an artificial brain — 300

238 ABUSE OF HUMAN LEARNING.

So he that once stood for the learned'st man, Had read out Little Britain and Duck lane, Worn out his reason and reduc'd his body And brain to nothing with perpetual study ; Kept tutors of all sorts, and virtuosos, soo

To read all authors to him, with their .glosses, And made his lacquies, when he walk'd, bear folios Of dictionaries, lexicons, and scholias, To be read to him every way the wind Should chance to sit, before him or behind ; sio Had read out all th' imaginary duels That had been fought by consonants and vowels ; Had crackt his skull to find out proper places To lay up all memoirs of things in cases ; And practis'd all the tricks upon the charts, sis To play with packs of sciences and arts, That serve t' improve a feeble gamester's study, That ventures at grammatic beast or noddy ; Had read out all the catalogues of wares, 310

That come in dry vats o'er from Frankfort fairs, Whose authors use t' articulate their surnames With scraps of Greek more learned than the Ger mans ;

Was wont to scatter books in every room, Where they might best be seen by all that come, And lay a train that nat'rally should force 325 What he design'd, as if it fell of course ; And all this with a worse success than Cardan, Who bought both books and learning at a bargain, When, lighting on a philosophic spell Of which he never knew one syllable, sso

Presto, begone ! h' unriddled all he read, As if he had to nothing else been bred.

239

ON A HYPOCRITICAL NONCONFORMIST.

A PINDAEIC ODE. I.

r/ 1 ''HERE'S nothing so absurd, or vain, A Or barbarous, or inhumane, But if it lay the least pretence To piety and godliness,

Or tender-hearted conscience, 5

And zeal for gospel-truths profess, Does sacred instantly commence, And all that dare but question it are strait Pronounc'd th' uncircumcis'd and reprobate : As malefactors that escape and fly 10

Into a sanctuary for defence, Must not be brought to justice thence, Although their crimes be ne'er so great and high ; And he that dares presume to do 't Is sentenc'd and deliver'd up is

To Satan that engag'd him to 't, For vent'ring wickedly to put a stop To his immunities and free affairs, Or meddle saucily with theirs, That are employ'd by him, while he and they 20 Proceed in a religious and a holy way.

ii.

And as the Pagans heretofore Did their own handyworks adore, And made their stone and timber deities,

240 ON A HYPOCRITICAL

Their temples, and their altars, of one piece ; 25

The same outgoings seem t' inspire

Our modern self-will'd Edifier,

That out of things as far from sense, and more,

Contrives new light and revelation,

The creatures of th' imagination, so

To worship and fall down before ;

Of which his crack'd delusions draw

As monstrous images and rude

As ever Pagan, to believe in, hew'd,

Or madman in a vision saw ; 35

Mistakes the feeble impotence,

And vain delusions of his mind,

For spiritual gifts and offerings

Which Heaven, to present him, brings ;

And still, the further 'tis from sense, 40

Believes it is the more refin'd,

And ought to be receiv'd with greater reverence.

in.

But as all tricks, whose principles Are false, prove false in all things else, The dull and heavy hypocrite 45

Is but in pension with his conscience, That pays him for maintaining it With zealous rage and impudence, And as the one grows obstinate, So does the other rich and fat ; so

Disposes of his gifts and dispensations Like spiritual foundations, Endow'd to pious uses, and designed To entertain the weak, the lame, and blind: But still diverts them to as bad, or worse, 55

Than others are, by unjust governors :

NONCONFORMIST. 241

For, like our modern publicans,

He still puts out all dues

He owes to Heaven to the dev'l to use,

And makes his godly interest great gains ; eo

Takes all the Brethren (to recruit

The spirit in him) contribute,

And, to repair and edify his spent

And broken -winded outward man, present

Fcpr painful holding-forth against the government.

IV.

The subtle spider never spins, 66

But on dark days, his slimy gins ;

Nor does our engineer much care to plant

His spiritual machines

Unless among the weak and ignorant, 70

Th' inconstant, credulous, and light,

The vain, the factious, and the slight,

That in their zeal are most extravagant ;

For trouts are tickled best in muddy water ;

And still, the muddier he finds their brains, 75

The more he 's sought and follow'd after,

And greater ministrations gains ;

For talking idly is admir'd,

And speaking nonsense held inspir'd ;

And still the flatter and more dull so

His gifts appear, is held more powerful ;

For blocks are better cleft with wedges

Than tools of sharp and subtle edges ;

And dullest nonsense has been found

By some to be the solid'st and the most profound.

v.

A great Apostle once was said 86

tVith too much learning to be mad ;

VOL. IT. II

242 ON A HYPOCRITICAL

But our great Saint becomes distract,

•And only with too little crackt ;

Cries moral truths and human learning down, 00

And will endure no reason but his own :

For 'tis a drudgery and task

Not for a Saint, but Pagan oracle,

To answer all men can object or ask ;

But to be found impregnable, us

And with a sturdy forehead to hold out,

In spite of shame or reason resolute,

Is braver than to argue and confute :

As he that can draw blood, they say,

From witches, takes their magic pow'r away, 100

So he that draws blood int' a Brother's face,

Takes all his gifts away, and light, and grace :

For while he holds that nothing is so damn'd

And shameful as to be asham'd,

He never can b' attack'd, 105

But will come off; for Confidence, well back'd

Among the weak and prepossess'd,

Has often Truth, with all her kingly pow'r, oppress'd.

VI.

It is the nature of late zeal,

'Twill not be subject, nor rebel, no

Nor left at large, nor be restrain'd,

But where there 's something to be gain'd ;

And that b'ing once reveal'd, defies

The law, with all its penalties,

And is convinc'd no pale 115

0' th' church can be so sacred as a jail :

For as the Indians' prisons are their mines,

So he has found are all restraints

To thriving and free-conscienc'd Saints;

NONCONFORMIST. 243

For the same thing enriches that confines ; 120

And like to Lully when he was in hold,

•He turns his baser metals into gold,

Receives returning and retiring fees

For holding-forth, and holding of his peace,

And takes a pension to be advocate 125

And standing counsel 'gainst the church and state

For gall'd and tender consciences :

Commits himself to prison to trepan,

Draw in, and spirit all he can ;

For birds in cages have a call, iso

To draw the wildest into nets,

More prevalent and natural

Than all our artificial pipes and counterfeits.

Til.

His slipp'ry conscience has more tricks

Than all the juggling empirics, 133

All ev'ry one another contradicts ;

All laws of heav'n and earth can break,

And swallow oaths, and blood, and rapine easy,

And yet is so infirm and weak,

'Twill not endure the gentlest check, no

But at the slightest nicety grows queasy :

Disdains control, and yet can be

No-where, but in a prison, free ;

Can force itself, in spite of God,

Who makes it free as thought at home, 145

A slave and villain to become

To serve its interests abroad :

And though no Pharisee was e'er so cunning

At tithing mint and cummin,

No dull idolater was e'er so flat 150

In things of deep and solid weight,

244

ON A HYPOCRITICAL

Pretends to charity and holiness,

But is implacable to peace,

And out of tenderness grows obstinate.

And though the zeal of God's house ate a prince

And prophet up (he says) long since, 150

His cross-grain'd peremptory zeal

Would cat up God's house, and devour it at a meal.

Tin.

He does not pray, but prosecute, As if he went to law, his suit ; ieo

Summons his Maker to appear And answer what he shall prefer; Returns Him back His gift of prayer, Not to petition, but declare ; Exhibits cross complaints i«5

Against Him for the breach of Covenants, And all the charters of the Saints ; Pleads guilty to the action, and yet stands Upon high terms and bold demands ; Excepts against him and his laws, 170

And will be judge himself in his own cause ; And grows more saucy and severe Than th' Heathen emp'ror was to Jupiter, That us'd to wrangle with him, and dispute, And sometimes would speak softly in his ear, 175 And sometimes loud, and rant, and tear, And threaten, if he did not grant his suit.

IX.

But when his painful gifts h' employs

In holding-forth, the virtue lies

Not in the letter of the sense, iso

But in the spiritual vehemence,

The pow'r and dispensation of the voice,

NONCONFORMIST. 245

The zealous pangs and agonies,

And heav'nly turnings of the eyes ;

The groans with which he piously destroys, 185

And drowns the nonsense in the noise ;

And grows so loud as if he meant to force

And take in heav'n by violence ;

To fright the Saints into salvation,

Or scare the devil from temptation ; 190

Un/til he falls so low and hoarse,

No kind of carnal sense

Can be made out of what he means :

But as the ancient Pagans were precise

To use no short-tail'd beast in sacrifice, 195

He still conforms to them, and has a care

T' allow the largest measure to his paltry ware.

x. v

The ancient churches, and the best, By their own martyrs' blood inereast; But he has found out a new way, 200

To do it with the blood of those That dare his church's growth oppose, Or her imperious canons disobey ; And strives to carry on the Work, Like a true primitive reforming Turk, 205

With holy rage, and edifying war, More safe and pow'rful ways by far : For the Turk's patriarch, Mahomet, Was the first great Reformer, and the chief Of th' ancient Christian belief, 2ic

That mix'd it with new light, and cheat, With revelations, dreams, and visions, And apostolic superstitions, To be held forth and carry'd on by war ;

246 ON A HYPOCRITICAL

And his successor was a Presbyter, 215

With greater right than Haly or Abubeker.

XI.

For as a Turk that is to act some crime

Against his Prophet's holy law

Is wont to bid his soul withdraw,

And leave his body for a time ; 220

So when some horrid action 's to be done,

Our Turkish proselyte puts on

Another spirit, and lays by his own ;

And when his over-heated brain

Turns giddy, like his brother Mussulman, 225

He 's judged inspir'd, and all his frenzies held

To be prophetic, and reveal'd.

The one believes all madmen to be saints,

Which th' other cries him down for and abhors,

And yet in madness all devotion plants, 230

And where he differs most concurs ;

Both equally exact and just

In perjury and breach of trust ;

So like in all things, that one Brother

Is but a counterpart of th' other ; 235

And both unanimously damn

And hate (like two that play one game)

Each other for it, while they strive to do the same.

XII.

Both equally design to raise

Their churches by the self-same ways ; 210

With war and ruin to assert

Their doctrine, and with sword and fire convert ;

To preach the gospel with a drum,

And for convincing overcome :

And though in worshipping of God all blood 245

NONCONFORMIST. 247

Was by His own laws disallow'd,

Both hold no holy rites to be so good,

And both to propagate the breed

Of their own Saints one way proceed ;

For lust and rapes in war repair as fast, 250

As fury and destruction waste:

Both equally allow all crimes

As lawful means to propagate a sect ;

YJOT laws in war can be of no effect,

And license does more good in gospel-times. 255

Hence 'tis that holy wars have ever been

The horrid'st scenes of blood and sin ;

For when religion does recede

From her own nature, nothing but a breed

Of prodigies and hideous monsters can succeed. SGO

ON MODERN CRITICS.

A PINDARIC ODE. I.

>HpIS well that equal Heav'n has plac'd

JL Those joys above, that to reward The just and virtuous are prepar'd, Beyond their reach, until their pains are past Else men would rather venture to possess By force, than earn by happiness ; And only take the devTs advice, As Adam did, how soonest to be wise, Though at th' expense of Paradise : For, as some say, to fight is but a base

248 ON MODERN CRITICS.

Mechanic handy- work, and far below

A gen'rous spirit t' undergo ;

So 'tis to take the pains to know,

Which some, with only confidence and face,

More easily and ably do ; 15

For daring nonsense seldom fails to hit,

Like scatter'd shot, and pass with some for wit.

Who would not rather make himself a judge,

And boldly usurp the chair,

Than with dull industry and care 20

Endure to study, think, and drudge

For that, which he much sooner may advance

With obstinate and pertinacious ignorance ?

ii.

For all men challenge, though in spite Of Nature and their stars, a right 2,1

To censure, judge, and know, Though she can only order who Shall be, and who shall ne'er be, wise : Then why should those whom she denies Her favour and good graces to, so

Not strive to take opinion by surprise, And ravish what it were in vain to woo ? For he that desp'rately assumes The censure of all wits and arts, Though without judgment, skill, and parts, 35 Only to startle and amuse, And mask his ignorance (as Indians use » With gaudy- colour'd plumes Their homely nether parts t' adorn) Can never fail to captive some 40

That will submit to his oraculous doom, And rev'rence what they ought to scorn ;

ON MODERN CRITICS. 249

Admire his sturdy confidence

For solid judgment and deep sense ;

And credit purchas'd without pains or wit, 45

Like stolen pleasures, ought to be most sweet.

in.

Two self-admirers, that combine Against the world, may pass a fine Upon all judgment, sense, and wit, A/nd settle it as they think fit so

On one another, like the choice Of Persian princes, by one horse's voice : For those fine pageants which some raise, Of false and disproportion'd praise, T' enable whom they please t' appear 55

And pass for what they never were, In private only b'ing but nam'd, Their modesty must be asham'd, And not endure to hear,

And yet may be divulg'd and fam'd, 60

And own'd in public every- where : So vain some authors are to boast Their want of ingenuity, and club Their affidavit wits, to dub

Each other but a Knight o' the Post ; 65

As false as suborn'd perjurers, That vouch away all right they have to their own ears.

IV.

But when all other courses fail,

There is one easy artifice

That seldom has been known to miss, 70

To cry all mankind down, and rail ;

For he whom all men do contemn

250 ON MODERN CRITICS.

May be allow'd to rail again at them,

And in his own defence

To outface reason, wit, and sense, 75

And all that makes against himself condemn ;

To snarl at all things right or wrong,

Like a mad dog that has a worm in 's tongue ;

Reduce all knowledge back of good and evil,

T' its first original the devil ; so

And, like a fierce inquisitor of wit,

To spare no flesh that ever spoke or writ ;

Though to perform his task as dull

As if he had a toadstone in his skull,

And could produce a greater stock so

Of maggots than a pastoral poet's flock.

v.

The feeblest vermin can destroy As sure as stoutest beasts of prey, And only with their eyes and breath Infect and poison men to death ; 90

But that more impotent buffoon That makes it both his bus'ness and his sport To rail at all, is but a drone That spends his sting on what he cannot hurt ; Enjoys a kind of lechery in spite, 95

Like o'ergrown sinners that in whipping take de light;

Invades the reputation of all those That have, or have it not to lose ; And if he chance to make a difference, 'Tis always in the wrongest sense : 100

As rooking gamesters never lay Upon those hands that use fair play, But venture all their bets Upon the slurs and cunning tricks of ablest cheats.

ON MODERN CRITICS. 251

VI.

Nor docs he vex himself much less 105

Than all the world beside,

Falls sick of other men's excess,

Is humbled only at their pride,

And wretched at their happiness ;

Revenges on himself the wrong, no

Which his vain malice and loose tongue,

Tjo those that feel it not, have done,

And whips and spurs himself because he is outgone;

Makes idle characters and tales,

As counterfeit, unlike, and false, 115

As witches' pictures are of wax and clay

To those whom they would in effigy slay.

And as the dev'l, that has no shape of 's own,

Affects to put the ugliest on, 119

And leaves a stink behind him when he 's gone,

So he that 's worse than nothing sirives t' appear

I' th' likeness of a wolf or bear,

To fright the weak ; but when men dare

Encounter with him, stinks, and vanishes to air.

252

TO THE

HAPPY MEMORY OF THE MOST RENOWNED DU-VAL.

A PINDARIC ODE.* I.

'^T^IS true, to compliment the dead

JL Is as impertinent and vain As 'twas of old to call them back again, Or, like the Tartars, give them wives, With settlements for after-lives ; 5

For all that can be done or said, Though e'er so noble, great, and good, By them is neither heard nor understood. All our fine sleights and tricks of art, First to create, and then adore desert, 10

And those romances which we frame To raise ourselves, not them, a name, In vain are stuff d with ranting flatteries, And such as, if they knew, they would despise. For as those times the Golden Age we call is In which there was no gold in use at all, So we plant glory and renown Where it was ne'er deserv'd nor known, But to worse purpose, many times,

* This Ode, -which is the only genuine poem of Butler's among the many spurious ones fathered upon him in what is called his ' Remains,' was published by the Author himself, under his own name, in the year 1671, in three sheets, 4to.

TO THE MEMORY OF DtT-VAL. 253

To flourish o'er nefarious crimes, 20

And cheat the world, that never seems to mind How good or bad men die, but what they leave behind.

u.

And yet the brave Du-Val, whose name Can never be worn out by Fame, That liv'd and died to leave behind 25

A great example to mankind ; That fell a public sacrifice, From ruin to preserve those few Who, though born false, may be made true, And teach the world to be more just and wise ; oo Ought not, like vulgar ashes, rest Unmention'd in his silent chest, Not for his own, but public interest. He, like a pious man, some years before The arrival of his fatal hour, 35

Made ev'ry day he had to live To his last minute a preparative ; Taught the wild Arabs on the road To act in a more gentle mode ; Take prizes more obligingly than those 40

Who never had been bred filous ; And how to hang in a more graceful fashion Than e'er was known before to the dull English nation,

in.

In France, the staple of new modes, Where garbs and miens are current goods, ' 45 That serves the ruder northern nations With methods of address and treat ; Prescribes new garnitures and fashions,

254 TO THE MEMORY OF DU-VAL.

And how to drink and how to eat

No out-of-fashion wine or meat ; so

To understand cravats and plumes,

And the most modish from the old perfumes;

To know the age and pedigrees

Of points of Flanders or Venice ;

Cast their nativities, and, to a day, 55

Foretell how long they 11 hold, and when decay ;

T' affect the purest negligences

In gestures, gaits, and miens,

And speak by repartee-routines

One of the most authentic of romances, eo

And to demonstrate, with substantial reason,

What ribands, all the year, are in or out of season.

IV.

In this great academy of mankind

He had his birth and education,

Where all men are s' ingeniously inclin'd 65

They understand by imitation,

Improve untaught, before they are aware,

As if they suck'd their breeding from the air,

That naturally does dispense

To all a deep and solid confidence ; 70

A virtue of that precious use,

That he, whom bounteous Heav'n endues

But with a mod'rate share of it,

Can want no worth, abilities, or wit,

In all the deep Hermetic arts, 75

(For so of late the learned call

All tricks, if strange and mystical).

He had improv'd his nat'ral parts,

And with his magic rod could sound

Where hidden treasure might be found : so

TO THE MEMORY OF DU-VAL. 255

He, like a lord o' th' manor, seiz'd upon

Whatever happen'd in his way

As lawful weft and stray,

And after, by the custom, kept it as his own.

v.

From these first rudiments he grew 80

To nobler feats, and try'd his force Upon whole troops of foot and horse, ^Vhom he as bravely did subdue ; Declar'd all caravans, that go Upon the king's highway, the foe ; oo

Made many desperate attacks Upon itinerant brigades Of all professions, ranks, and trades, On carriers' loads, and pedlars' packs ; Made them lay down their arms, and yield, or» And, to the smallest piece, restore All that by cheating they had gaiu'd before, And after plunder'd all the baggage of the field, In every bold affair of war

He had the chief command, and led them on ; 100 For no man is judg'd fit to have the care Of others' lives, until h' has made it known How much he does despise and scorn his own.

VI.

Whole provinces, 'twixt sun and sun,

Have by his conqu'ring sword been won ; 103

And mighty sums of money laid,

For ransom, upon every man,

And hostages deliver'd till 'twas paid.

Th' excise and chimney-publican,

The Jew forcstaller and enhancer, no

To him for all their crimes did answer.

256 TO THE MEMORY OF DU-VAL.

He vanquish'd the most fierce and fell

Of all his foes, the Constable ;

And oft had beat his quarters up,

And routed him and all his troop. 115

He took the dreadful lawyer's fees,

That in his own allow'd highway

Does feats of arms as great as his,

And, when they' encounter in it, wins the day :

Safe in his garrison, the Court, 120

Where meaner criminals are sentenc'd for 't,

To this stern foe he oft gave quarter,

But as the Scotchman did t' a Tartar,

That he, in time to come, 124

Might in return from him receive his fatal doom.

YII.

He would have starv'd this mighty Town, And brought its haughty spirit down ; Have cut it off from all relief, And, like a wise and valiant chief, Made many a fierce assault ico

Upon all ammunition carts, And those that bring up cheese, or malt, Or bacon, from remoter parts : No convoy e'er so strong with food Durst venture on the desp'rate road ; 13,5

He made th' undaunted waggoner obey, And the fierce higgler contribution pay ; The savage butcher and stout drover Durst not to him their feeble troops discover ; And, if he had but kept the field, MO

In time had made the city yield ; For great towns, like to crocodiles, are found I' th' belly aptest to receive a mortal wound.

TO THE MEMORY OF DU-VAL. 257

VIII.

But when the fatal hour arriv'd

In which his stars began to frown, 145

And had in close cabals contriv'd

To pull him from his height of glory down,

And he, by num'rous foes opprest,

Was in th' enchanted dungeon cast,

Secur'd with mighty guards, iso

L<fst he by force or stratagem

Might prove too cunning for their chains and them,

And break through all their locks, and bolts, and

wards ;

Had both his legs by charms committed To one another's charge, 155

That neither might be set at large, And all their fury and revenge outwitted. As jewels of high value are Kept under locks with greater care Than those of meaner rates, 160

So he was in stone walls, and chains, and iron grates.

IX.

Thither came ladies from all parts,

To offer up close prisoners their hearts,

Which he received as tribute due,

And made them yield up love and honour too, 165

But in more brave heroic ways

Than e'er were practis'd yet in plays :

For those two spitefid foes, who never meet

But full of hot contests and piques

About punctilios and mere tricks, 170

Did all their quarrels to his doom submit,

And, far more generous and free,

In contemplation only of him did agree :

VOL. II. S

258 TO THE MEMORY OF DU-VAL.

Both fully satisfy'd ; the one

With those fresh laurels he had won, 175

And all the brave renowned feats

He had perform' d in arms ;

The other with his person and his charms :

For, just as larks are catch'd in nets

By gazing on a piece of glass, iso

So while the ladies view'd his brighter eyes,

And smoother polish'd face,

Their gentle hearts, alas ! were taken by surprise.

x.

Never did bold knight, to relieve Distressed dames, such dreadful feats achieve 185 As feeble damsels, for his sake, Would have been proud to undertake ; And, bravely ambitious to redeem The world's loss and their own, Strove who should have the honour to lay down 100 And change a life with him ; But, finding all their hopes in vain To move his fixt determin'd fate, Their life itself began to hate, As if it were an infamy 195

To live, when he was doom'd to die ; Made loud appeals and moans, To less hard-hearted grates and stones ; Came, swell'd with sighs, and drown'd in tears, To yield themselves his fellow-sufferers, 200

And follow'd him, like prisoners of war, Chain'd to the lofty wheels of his triumphant car.

259

A BALLAD

UPON THE PARLIAMENT, WHICH DELIBERATED ABOUT MAKING OLIVER CROMWELL KING.*

AS close as a goose Sat the Parliament-house To hatch the royal gull ; After much fiddle-faddle, The egg proved addle, 5

And Oliver came forth Nol.

Yet old Queen Madge, Though things do not fadge,

Will serve to be queen of a Ma} -pole ; Two princes of Wales, 10

For Whitsun-ales,

And her Grace Maid-Marian Clay-pole.

In a robe of cow-hide Sat yeasty Pride,

With his dagger and his sling ; is

He was the pertinent'st peer Of all that were there,

T' advise with such a king.

* This Ballad refers to the Parliament, as it was called, which deliberated about making Oliver king, and peti tioned him to accept the title; which he, out of fear of some republican zealots in his party, refused to accept, and contented himself with the power, under the name of ' Protector.'

260 A BALLAD.

A great philosopher

Had a goose for his lover, 20

That folio w'd him day and night : If it be a true story Or but an allegory,

It may be both ways right.

Stricldand and his son, 30

Both cast into one,

Were meant for a single baron ; But when they came to sit, There was not wit

Enough in them both, to serve for one. So

Wherefore 'twas thought good To add Honeywood ;

But when they came to trial, Each one prov'd a fool, Yet three knaves in the whole, 40

And that made up a Pair-royal.

A BALLAD,

D

IN TWO PAETS, CONJECTTJEED TO BE ON OLIVER CEOMWELL.*

PAET I.

RAW near, good people all, draw near, And hearken to my ditty ; A stranger thing

* To this humorous ballad Butler had prefixed this titlo — 'The Privileges of Pimping' — but afterwards crossed it out, for which reason it is not inserted here.

A BALLAD. 261

Than this I sing Came never to this city. 5

Had you but seen this monster, You would not give a farthing

For the lions in the grate,

Nor the mountain-cat, / Nor the bears in Paris-garden. 10

You would defy the pageants Are borne before the mayor ;

The strangest shape

You e'er did gape Upon at Bart'lmy fair ! is

His face is round and decent, As is your dish or platter,

On which there grows

A thing like a nose, But, indeed, it is no such matter. 20

On both sides of th' aforesaid

Are eyes, but they 're not matches,

On which there are

To be seen two fair And large well-grown mustaches. 25

Now this with admiration Does all beholders strike,

13 From the medals, and original portraits, which are left of Oliver Cromwell, one may probably conjecture, if not positively affirm, that this droll picture -was designed for him. The roundness of the face, the oddness of the nose, and the remarkable largeness of the eyebrows, are particulars which correspond exactly with them.

262 A BALLAD.

That a beard should grow Upon a thing's brow, Did ye ever see the like ? 80

He has no skull, 'tis well known To thousands of beholders ;

Nothing, but a skin,

Does keep his brains in From running about his shoulders. 35

On both sides of his noddle Are straps o' th' very same leather ;

Ears are imply'd,

But they 're mere hide, Or morsels of tripe, choose ye whether. 10

Between these two extendeth A slit from ear to ear,

That every hour

Gapes to devour The souse that grows so near. 45

Beneath, a tuft of bristles, As rough as a frieze-jerkin ;

If it had been a beard,

'Twould have serv'd a herd Of goats, that are of his near kin. so

Within, a set of grinders

Most sharp and keen, corroding

Your iron and brass

As easy as That you would do a pudding. 55

A BALLAD. 263

But the strangest thing of all is, Upon his rump there groweth

A great long tail,

That useth to trail Upon the ground as he goeth. «o

/ A BALLAD,

IiT TWO PARTS, CONJECTURED TO BE ON OLIVER CROMWELL.

PART II.

r I 'HIS monster was begotten JL Upon one of the witches,

B' an imp that came to her, Like a man, to woo her, With black doublet and oreeches. 5

When he was whelp'd, for certain, In divers several countries, The hogs and swine Did grunt and whine, And the ravens croak' d upon trees. 10

The winds lid blow, the thunder And lightning loud did rumble ;

The dogs did howl,

The hoJlow tree in th' owl — 'Tis a good horse that ne'er stumbled. is

14 This whimsical liberty our Author takes of transposing the words for the sake of a rhyme, though at the expense of the sense, is a new kind of poetic license ; and it is merry

264 A BALLAD.

As soon as he was brought forth, At the midwife's throat he flew,

And threw the pap

Down in her lap ; They say 'tis very true. 20

And up the walls he clamber'd, With nails most sharp and keen,

The prints whereof,

F th' boards and roof, Are yet for to be seen. 25

And out o' th' top o' th' chimney He vanish'd, seen of none ;

For they did wink,

Yet by the stink Knew which way he was gone. so

The country round about there Became like to a wildern ess ; for the sight Of him did fright Away men, women, and children, 35

Long did he there continue, And all those parts much harmed,

Till a wise-woman, which

Some call a white-witch, Him into a hog-sty charmed. 40

enough to observe, that he literally does, vhat he jokingly charges upon other poets in another place :

But those that write in rhyme still make

The one verse for the other's sake ;

For one for sense, and one for rhyme,

I think 's sufficient at one time. Hud. p. 2. c. 1. v. 27.

A BALLAD. ^65

There, when she had him shut fast, With brimstone and with nitre She sing'd the claws Of his left paws, With tip of his tail, and his right ear. 45

And with her charms and ointments She made him tame as a spaniel ;

For she us'd to ride

On his back astride, Nor did he do her any ill. 50

But, to the admiration Of all both far and near,

He hath been shown

In every town, And eke in every shire. 55

And now, at length, he 's brought Unto fair London city,

Where in Fleet-street

All those may see 't That will not believe my ditty. 60

God save the King and Parliament, And eke the Prince's highness, And quickly send The wars an end, As here my song has — Fini3. 65

61 From this circumstance it appears, that this ballad r was -written before the murder of the king, and that it is the earliest performance of Butler's that has yet been made public.

266

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.*

ALL men's intrigues and projects tend, By seVral courses, to one end ; To compass, by the prop'rest shows, Whatever their designs propose ; And that which owns the fair'st pretext Is often found the indirect'st. Hence 'tis that hypocrites still paint Much fairer than the real saint, And knaves appear more just and true Than honest men, that make less show ; The dullest idiots in disguise Appear more knowing than the wise ; Illiterate dunces, undiscern'd, Pass on the rabble for the learn'd ; And cowards, that can damn and rant, Pass muster for the valiant : For he that has but impudence, To all things has a just pretence, And, put among his wants but shame, To all the world may lay his claim.

20

* This, and the other little Sketches that follow, were, among many of the same kind, fairly written out by Butler, in a sort of poetical Thesaurus. Out of this magazine he communicated to Mr. Aubrey that genuine fragment printed iu his life, beginning,

Xo Jesuit e'er took in hand To plant a church in barren land, Nor ever thought it worth the while A Swede or Russ to reconcile, &c.

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 267

How various and innumerable

Are those who live upon the rabble !

'Tis they maintain the church and state,

Employ the priest and magistrate";

Bear all the charge of government, 25

And pay the public fines and rent ;

Defray all taxes and excises,

And impositions of all prices ;

Bear all the expense of peace and war,

And pay the pulpit and the bar ; 30

Maintain all churches and religions,

And give their pastors exhibitions,

And those who have the greatest flocks

Are primitive and orthodox;

Support all schismatics and sects, as

And pay them for tormenting texts ;

Take all their doctrines off their hands,

And pay them in good rents and lands ;

Discharge all costly offices,

The doctor's and the lawyer's fees, 40

The hangman's wages, and the scores

Of caterpillar bawds and whores;

Discharge all damages and costs

Of Knights and Squires of the Post ;

All statesmen, cut-purses, and padders, 45

And pay for all their ropes and ladders

All pettifoggers, and all sorts

Of markets, churches, and of courts ;

All sums of money paid or spent,

With all the charges incident, &

Laid out, or thrown away, or giv'n

To purchase this world, hell, or heav'n.

268

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.

SHOULD once the world resolve t' abolish

All that 's ridiculous and foolish,

It would have nothing left to do, 56

T' apply in jest or earnest to,

No business of importance, play,

Or state, to pass its time away.

THE world would be more just, if truth and lies,

And right and wrong, did bear an equal price ; 6-

But, since impostors are so highly rais'd,

And faith and justice 'equally debas'd,

Few men have tempers, for such paltry gains

T' undo themselves with drudgery and pains.

THE sottish world without distinction looks 65 On all that passes on th' account of books ; And, when there are two scholars that within The species only hardly are a-kin, The world will pass for men of equal knowledge. If equally they've loiter'd in a college. 70

CRITICS are like a kind of flies that breed

In wild fig-trees, and when they 're grown up, feed

Upon the raw fruit of the nobler kind,

And, by their nibbling on the outward rind,

Open the pores, and make way for the sun 75

To ripen it sooner than he would have done.

As all Fanatics preach, so all men write, Out of the strength of gifts and inward light, In spite of art ; as horses, thorough pac'd Were never taught, and therefore go more fast, so

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 269

IN all mistakes the strict and regular

Are found to be the desp'rat'st ways to err,

And worst to be avoided ; as a wound

Is said to be the harder cur'd that 's round ;

For error and mistake, the less th' appear, ?~>

In th' end are found to be the dangerouser ;

As no man minds those clocks that use to go

Apparently too over-fast or slow.

THE truest characters of ignorance Are vanity, and pride, and arrogance ; &o

As blind men use to bear their noses higher Than those that have their eyes and sight entire.

THE metaphysic 's but a puppet motion

That goes with screws, the notion of a notion;

The copy of a copy, and lame draught 9.5

Unnaturally takne from a thought ;

That counterfeits all pantomimic tricks,

And turns the eyes like an old crucifix ;

That counterchanges whatsoe'er it calls

B' another name, and makes it true or false ; 100

Turns truth to falsehood, falsehood into truth,

By virtue of the Babylonian's tooth.

'Tis not the art of schools to understand, But make things hard, instead of b'ing explained ; And therefore those are commonly the learned'st That only study between jest and earnest : IOG For, when the end of learning 's to pursue And trace the subtle steps of false and true, They ne'er consider how they 're to apply, But only listen to the noise and cry. no

270 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHT.-.

And are so much delighted with the chase, They never mind the taking of their preys.

MOKE proselytes and converts use t* accrue From false persuasions, than the right and true ; For error and mistake arc infinite, 115

But truth has but one way to be i' th' right ; As numbers may t' infinity be grown, But never be redue'd to less than one.

ALL wit and fancy, like a diamond,

The more exact and curious 'tis ground, 120

Is forc'd for every carat to abate

As much in value, as it wants in weight.

THE great St. Lewis, king of France,

Fighting against Mahometans,

In Egypt, in the holy war, IK

Was routed and made prisoner :

The Sultan then, into whose hands

He and his army fell, demands

A thousand weight of gold, to free

And set them all at liberty. iso

The king pays down one half o* th* nail.

And for the other oners bail,

The pyx, and in 't the Eucharist,

The body of our Saviour Christ.

The Turk considered, and allowed 135

The king's security for good :

Such credit had the Christian zeal,

In those days with an Infidel,

That will not pass for two-pence now

Among themselves, 'tis grown so low.

i'7l

THOSE that go up-hill, use to l>o\v

Their bodies forward^. Mil ftoop low,

To poise themselves, and HOMH-I mi.vs creep,

When th' way JH difficult and Hteqp*: '•

Ho those at court, that do address i .&

By low ignoble offices,

Loop to- any thing tiiat ',s ba«e, To wriggle into trust and grucu, Aro liku to HHU lx* gr'tutnuHH Hooner Than tho«« tliat j^o by worth and honour. ir.o

ALL acto of grace, and pardon, and oblivion, Are muant of ncrvieuH that ar« forgiven, And not of crime*) delinquent* huvo And rather been rewarded than

LIOJTH are kings of beaate, and yet; their pow'r IH not to rule and govern, but devour : Huch savage kings all tyruntH an», and they No better than men: beauts that do obey.

more dull and nc Than an old kusy govcjmmont, That known no interest of Htute, But uiutli OM serves a present s trail , And, to patch up, or shift, will close, Or break alike, with friends or foes ; That runs behind-hand, and IUIH me

Its credit; to the last extent ; Anif, the Hrist time 'tis at a loss, Has not one true friend nor one cross.

TirK Devil was the first. <>' th' num.

272 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.

From whom the race of rebels came, 170

Who was the first bold undertaker

Of bearing arms against his Maker,

And, though miscarrying in th' event,

Was never yet known to repent,

Though tumbled from the top of bliss ITS

Down to the bottomless abyss ;

A property which, from their prince,

The family owns ever since,

And therefore ne'er repent the evil

They do or suffer, like the devil. iso

THE worst of rebels never arm To do their king or country harm, But draw their swords to do them good, As doctors cure by letting blood.

No seared conscience is so fell 135

As that which has been burnt with zeal ;

For Christian charity 's as well

A great impediment to zeal,

As zeal a pestilent disease

To Christian charity and peace. 190

As thistles wear the softest down,

To hide their prickles till they 're grown,

And then declare themselves, and tear

Whatever ventures to come near ;

So a smooth knave does greater feats 195

Than one that idly rails and threats,

And all the mischief that he meant

Does, like a rattle-snake, prevent.

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 273

MAN is supreme lord and master

Of his own ruin and disaster ; 200

Controls his fate, but nothing less

In ordering his own happiness ;

For all his care and providence

Is too, too feeble a defence

To render it secure and certain 205

Against the injuries of Fortune ;

Anfi oft, in spite of all his wit,

Is lost with one unlucky hit,

And ruin'd with a circumstance,

And mere punctilio, of chance. 210

DAME Fortune, some men's tutelar,

Takes charge of them without their care,

Does all their drudgery and work,

Like Fairies, for them in the dark ;

Conducts them blindfold, and advances 215

The naturals by blinder chances ;

While others by desert or wit

Could never make the matter hit,

But still, the better they deserve,

Are but the abler thought to starve. 220

GREAT wits have only been preferr'd,

In princes' trains to be interr'd,

And, when they cost them nothing, plac'd

Among their followers not the last ;

But while they liv'd were far enough 22.5

From all admittances kept off.

As gold, that 's proof against th' assay, Upon the touchstone wears away,

VOL. II. T

274 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.

And having stood the greater test,

Is overmaster'd by the least ;

So some men, having stood the hate

And spiteful cruelty of Fate,

Transported with a false caress

Of unacquainted happiness,

Lost to humanity and sense, 235

Have fall'n as low as insolence.

INNOCENCE is a defence

For nothing else but patience ;

'Twill not bear out the blows of Fate,

Nor fence against the tricks of state ; 210

Nor from th' oppression of the laws

Protect the plain'st and justest cause ;

Nor keep unspotted a good name

Against the obloquies of Fame ;

Feeble as Patience, and as soon, 245

By being blown upon, undone.

As beasts are hunted for their furs,

Men for their virtues fare the worse.

WHO doth not know with what fierce rage

Opinions, true or false, engage ?

And, 'cause they govern all mankind,

Like the blind's leading of the blind,

All claim an equal interest,

And free dominion o'er the rest.

And, as one shield that fell from heaven 255

Was counterfeited by eleven,

The better to secure the fate

And lasting empire of a state,

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 275

The false are num'rous, and the true,

That only have the right, but few. 200

Hence fools, that understand them least,

Are still the fiercest in contest ;

Unsight, unseen, espouse a side

At random, like a prince's bride,

To damn their souls, and swear and lie for, 260

Ancjl at a venture live and die for.

OPIKIOK governs all mankind,

Like the blind's leading of the blind ;

For he that has no eyes in 's head,

Must be by' a dog glad to be led ; 270

And no beasts have so little in them,

As that inhuman brute, Opinion :

'Tis an infectious pestilence,

The tokens upon wit and sense

That with a venomous contagion 275

Invades the sick imagination ;

And, when it seizes any part,

It strikes the poison to the heart.

This men of one another catch

By contact, as the humours match ; i-so

And nothing 's so perverse in nature

As a profound opiniator.

AUTHORITY intoxicates,

And makes mere sots of magistrates ;

The fumes of it invade the brain, 285

And make men giddy, proud, and vain :

By this the fool commands the wise,

The noble with the base complies,

276 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.

The sot assumes the rule of wit, And cowards make the base submit.

A GODLY man, that has serv'd out his

In holiness, may set up any crime ;

As scholars, when they 've taken their degrees,

May set up any faculty they please. :

WHY should not piety be made, ^95

As well as equity, a trade,

And men get money by devotion,

As well as making of a motion ?

B' allow'd to pray upon conditions,

As well as suitors in petitions ? sco

And in a congregation pray,

No less than Chancery, for pay ?

A TEACHEE'S doctrine, and his proof

Is all his province, and enough ;

But is no more concern'd in use, cos

Than shoemakers to wear all shoes.

THE soberest saints are more stiff-necked Than th' hottest-headed of the wicked.

HYPOCEISY will serve as well

To propagate a church, as zeal ; BIO

As persecution and promotion

Do equally advance devotion;

So round white stones will serve, they say,

As well as eggs, to make hens lay.

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 277

THE greatest saints and sinners have been made Of proselytes of one another's trade. sic

YOTTB wise and cautious consciences

Are free to take what course they please :

Have plenary indulgence to dispose

At pleasure, of the strictest vows; 320

And challenge Heaven, they made them to,

To {ouch and witness what they do;

And, when they prove averse and loath,

Yet for convenience take an oath ;

Not only can dispense, but make it 221

A greater sin to keep than take it ;

Can bind and loose all sorts of sin,

And only keeps the keys within ;

Has no ouperior to control,

But what itself sets o'er the soul ; 330

And, when it is enjoin'd t' obey,

Is but confin'd, and keeps the key ;

Can walk invisible, and where,

And when, and how, it will appear ;

Can turn itself into disguises 335

Of all sorts, for all sorts of vices ;

Can transubstantiate, metamorphose,

And charm whole herds of beasts, like Orpheus ;

Make woods, and tenements, and lands,

Obey and follow its commands, 340

And settle on a new freehold,

As Marcly-hill remov'd of old ;

Make mountains move with greater force

Than faith, to new proprietors ;

And perjures, to secure th' enjoyments 343

Of public charges and employments ;

278 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.

For true and faithful, good and just,

Are but preparatives to trust ;

The gilt and ornament of things,

And not their movements, wheels, and springs. 350

ALL love, at first, like generous wine,

Ferments and frets until 'tis fine ;

But, when 'tis settled on the lee,

And from th' impurer matter free,

Becomes the richer still the older, Soo

And proves the pleasanter the colder.

THE motions of the earth or sun,

(The Lord knows which), that turn, or run,

Are both perform'd by fits and starts,

And so are those of lovers' hearts ; seo

Which, though they keep no even pace,

Move true and constant to one place.

LOVE is too great a happiness

For wretched mortals to possess ;

For, could it hold inviolate scs

Against those cruelties of Fate

Which all felicities below

By rigid laws are subject to,

It would become a bliss too high

For perishing mortality, 370

Translate to earth the joys above ;

For nothing goes to heaven but love.

ALL wild but generous creatures live, of course, As if they had agreed for better or worse :

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 279

The lion 's constant to his only miss, 375

And never leaves his faithful lioness ;

And she as chaste and true to him agen,

As virtuous ladies use to be to men.

The docile and ingenuous elephant

T' his own and only female is gallant ; sso

And she as true and constant to his bed,

That first enjoy' d her single maidenhead ;

But paltry rams, and bulls, and goats, and boars,

Are never satisfy'd with new amours ;

As all poltroons with us delight to range, rso

And, though but for the worst of all, to change.

THE souls of women are so small,

That some believe they 've none at all ;

Or if they have, like cripples, still

They've but one faculty, the will ; 330

The other two are quite laid by

To make up one great tyranny;

And, though their passions have most pow'r,

They are, like Turks, but slaves the more

To th' absolute will, that with a breath 395

Has sovereign power of life and death,

And, as its little interests move,

Can turn them all to hate or love ;

For nothing, in a moment, turn

To frantic love, disdain, and scorn ; 400

And make that love degenerate

T' as great extremity of hate ;

And hate again, and scorn, and piques,

To flames, and raptures, and love-tricks.

ALL sorts of votaries, that profess 405

280

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.

To bind themselves apprentices To Heaven, abjure, with solemn vows, Not Cut and Long-tail, but a spouse, As th' worst of all impediments To hinder their devout intents.

410

MOST virgins marry, just as nuns The same thing the same way renounce ; Before they've wit to understand The bold attempt they take in hand ; Or, having staid and lost their tides, Are out of season grown for brides.

415

THE credit of the marriage-bed

Has been so loosely husbanded,

Men only deal for ready money,

And women, separate alimony ; 420

And ladies-errant, for debauching,

Have better terms, and equal caution ;

And, for their journey-work and pains,

The char-women clear greater gains.

As wine that with its own weight runs is best, 425 And counted much more noble than the prest ; So is that poetry whose generous strains Flow without- servile study, a- 1, or pains.

SOME call it fury, some a Muse, That, as possessing devils use, Haunts and forsakes a man by fits, And when he 's in, he 's out of 's wits.

430

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 281

ALL writers, though of different fancies,

Do make all people in romances,

That are distress'd and discontent, 435

Make songs, and sing t' an instrument,

And poets by their sufferings grow ;

As if there were no more to do,

To make a poet excellent,

But only want and discontent. 440

IT is not poetry that makes men poor ;

For few do write that were not so before,

And those that have writ best, had they been rich,

Had ne'er been clapp'd with a poetic itch ;

Had lov'd their ease too well to take the pains 4«

To undergo that drudgery of brains ;

But, being for all other trades unfit,

Only to avoid being idle, set up wit.

THEY that do write in authors' praises,

And freely give their friends their voices, 450

Are not confin'd to what is true;

That 's not to give, but pay a due :

For praise, that 's due, does give no more

To worth, than what it had before ;

Bat to commend, without desert, 453

Requires a mastery of art,

That sets a gloss on what 's amiss,

And writes what should be, not what is.

IN foreign universities,

When a king 's born, or weds, or dies, 400

Straight other studies are laid by,

And all apply to poetry :

282 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.

Some write in Hebrew, some in Greek,

And some, more wise, in Arabic,

T" avoid the critic, and th' expense 485

Of difficulter wit and sense ;

And seem more learnedish than those

That at a greater charge compose.

The doctors lead, the students follow ;

Some call him Mars, and some Apollo, ^,70

Some Jupiter, and give him th' odds,

On even terms, of all the gods :

Then Caesar he 's nicknam'd, as duly as

He that in Rome was christen'd Julius.

And was address'd to, by a crow, 475

As pertinently long ago ;

And with more heroes' names is styl'd,

Than saints are clubb'd t' an Austrian child ;

And, as wit goes by colleges,

As well as standing and degrees> 430

He still writes better than the rest,

That 's of the house that 's counted best.

FAB greater numbers have been lost by hopes, Than all the magazines of daggers, ropes, And other ammunitions of despair, 485

Were ever able to despatch by fear.

THERE 's nothing our felicities endears

Like that which falls among our doubts and fears,

And in the miserablest of distress

Improves attempts as desperate with success ; 490

Success, that owns and justifies all quarrels,

And vindicates deserts of hemp with laurels ;

Or, but miscarrying in the bold attempt,

Turns wreaths of laurel back again to hemp.

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 283

THE people have as much a negative voice 490 To hinder making war without their choice, As kings of making laws in parliament ; " No money " is as good as " No assent."

WHEN princes idly lead about,

Those of their party follow suite, 500

Till others trump upon their play,

Afid turn the cards another way.

WHAT makes all subjects discontent

Against a prince's government,

And princes take as great offence 505

At subjects' disobedience,

That neither the other can abide,

But too much reason on each side ?

AUTHORITY is a disease and cure;

Which men can neither want, nor well endure. 510

DAME Justice puts her sword into the scales, With which she 's said to weigh out true and false. With no design, but, like the antique Gaul, To get more money from the capitol.

ALL that which law and equity miscalls 51.3

By th' empty idle names of True and False, Is nothing else but maggots blown between False witnesses and falser jurymen. No court allows those partial interlopers Of Law and Equity, two single paupers, 520

T' encounter hand to hand at bars, and trounce Each other gratis in a suit at once :

284 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.

For one at one time, and upon free cost, is Enough to play the knave and fool with justice ; And, when the one side bringeth custom in, 525 And th' other lays out half the reckoning, The devil himself will rather choose to play At paltry small game, than sit out, they say ; But when at all there 's nothing to be got, The old wife, Law and Justice, will not trot. 530

THE law, that makes more knaves than e'er it hung, Little considers right or wrong ; But, like authority, 's soon satisfy'd, When 'tis to judge on its own side.

THE law can take a purse in open court, 535

Whilst it condemns a less delinquent for 't.

WHO can deserve for breaking of the laws, A greater penance than an honest cause ?

ALL those that do but rob and steal enough,

Are punishment and court of justice proof, 540

And need not fear, nor be concern'd a straw,

In all the idle bugbears of the law,

But confidently rob the gallows too,

As well as other sufferers, of their due.

OLD laws have not been suffer'd to be pointed, 545 To leave the sense at large the more disjointed, And furnish lawyers, with the greater ease, To turn and wind them any way they please. The Statute Law 's their Scripture, and Reports The ancient reverend fathers of their courts : 550 Records their general councils ; and Decisions

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 285

Of judges on the bench their sole traditions, For which, like Catholics, they've greater awe, As th' arbitrary and unwritten law, And strive perpetually to make the standard 00.5 Of right between the tenant and the landlord ; And, when two cases at a trial meet, That, like indentures, jump exactly fit, And all the points, like Chequer-tallies, suit, Tfhe Court directs the obstinat'st dispute : 550

There 's no decorum us'd of time, nor place, Nor quality, nor person, in the case.

A MAN of quick and active wit

For drudgery is more unfit,

Compar'd to those of duller parts, 565

Than running-nags to draw in carts.

Too much or too little wit

Do only render th' owners fit

For nothing, but to be undone

Much easier than if they had none. 570

As those that are stark blind can trace

The nearest way from place to place,

And find the right way easier out,

Than those that hood-wink'd try to do 't ;

So tricks of state are manag'd best o75

By those that are suspected least,

And greatest finesse brought about

By engines most unlike to do 't.

ALL the politics of the great

Are like the cunning of a cheat, sio

286

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.

590

That lets his false dice freely run, And trusts them to themselves alone, But never lets a true. one stir Without some fing'ring trick or slur ; And, when the gamesters doubt his play, Conveys his false dice safe away, And leaves the true ones in the lurch, T' endure the torture of the search.

WHAT else does history use to tell us,

But tales of subjects being rebellious ;

The vain perfidiousness of lords,

And fatal breach of princes' words ;

The sottish pride and insolence

Of statesmen, and their want of sense ;

Their treach'ry, that undoes, of custom, 595

Their own selves first, next those who trust them ?

BECAUSE a feeble limb 's carest,

And more indulg'd than all the rest,

So frail and tender consciences

Are humour'd to do what they please ;

When that which goes for weak and feeble

Is found the most incorrigible,

To outdo all the fiends in hell

With rapine, murder, blood, and zeal.

coo

As at the approach of winter all

The leaves of great trees use to fall,

And leave them naked to engage

With storms and tempests when they rage,

While humbler plants are found to \vear

Their fresh green liv'ries all the year ;

605

610

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 287

80 when the glorious season 's gone With great men, and hard times come on, The great'st calamities oppress The greatest still, and spare the less.

As when a greedy raven sees 615

A sheep entangled by the fleece,

With hasty cruelty he flies

Tf attack him, and pick out his eyes ;

So do those vultures use, that keep

Poor prisoners fast like silly sheep, 630

As greedily to prey on all

That in their rav'nous clutches fall ;

For thorns and brambles, that came in

To wait upon the curse for sin,

And were no part o' the first creation, e?6

But, for revenge, a new plantation,

Are yet the fitt'st materials

T' enclose the earth with living walls :

So jailors, that are most accurst,

Are found most fit in being worst. eco

THEEE needs no other charm, nor conjurer, To raise infernal spirits up, but fear ; That makes men pull their horns in like a snail, That's both a pris'ner to itself, and jail; Draws more fantastic shapes, than in the grains 62o Of knotted wood, in some men's crazy brains, When all the cocks they think they see, and bulls, Are only in the in sides of their skulls.

THE Roman Mufti, with his triple crown,

Does both the earth, and hell, and heaven, own, 510

288 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.

Beside th' imaginary territory

He lays a title to in Purgatory;

Declares himself an absolute free prince

In his dominions, only over sins ;

But as for heaven, since it lies so far 6 15

Above him, is but only titular, .

And, like his Cross-keys badge upon a tavern,

Has nothing there to tempt, command, or govern :

Yet, when he comes to take accompt, and share

The profit of his prostituted ware, &>o

He finds his gains increase, by sin and women,

Above his richest titular dominion.

A JUBILEE is but a spiritual fair,

T' expose to sale all sorts of impious ware,

In which his Holiness buys nothing in, 655

To stock his magazines, but deadly sin ;

And deals in extraordinary crimes,

That are not vendible at other times;

For, dealing both for Judas and th' High Priest,

He makes a plentifuller trade of Christ. ec-o

THAT sp'ritual pattern of the church, the ark, In which the ancient world did once embark, Had ne'er a helm in 't to direct its way, Although bound through an universal sea ; When all the modern church of Rome's concern f-'-i Is nothing else but in the helm and stern.

Iff the church of Rome to go to shrift, Is but to put the soul on a clean shift.

AN ass will with his long ears fray

3HSCELLAXEOU3 THOUGHTS. 289

The flies, that tickle him, away ; 670

But man delights to have his ears Blown maggots in by flatterers.

ALL wit does but divert men from the road In which things vulgarly are understood, And force Mistake and Ignorance to own en

A better sense than commonly is known.

IN little trades more cheats and lying

Are us'd in selling than in buying ;

But in the great, unjuster dealing

Is us'd in buying than in selling. cso

ALL smatt'rers are more brisk and pert Than those that understand an art : As little sparkles shine more bright Than glowing coals, that give them light.

LAW does not put the least restraint ess

Upon our freedom, but maintain 't ;

Or if it does, 'tis for our good,

To give us freer latitude :

Por wholesome laws preserve us free,

By stinting of our liberty. fi90

THE world has long endeavour'd to reduce Those things to practice that are of no use, And strives to practise things of speculation, And bring the practical to contemplation, And by that error renders both in vain, 695

By forcing Nature's course against the grain. VOL. ir. TJ

290 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.

IN all the world therer is no vice

Less prone t' excess than avarice ;

It neither cares for food nor clothing ;

Nature 's content with little, that with nothing. 700

IN Rome no temple was so low As that of Honour, built to show How humble honour ought to be, Though there 'twas all authority.

IT is a harder thing for men to rate 705

Their own parts at an equal estimate,

Than cast up fractions in th' accompt of heav'n,

Of time and motion, and adjust them ev'n ;

For modest persons never had a true

Particular of all that is their due. 710

SOME people's fortunes, like a weft or stray, Are only gain'd by losing of their way.

As he that makes his mark is understood

To write his name, and 'tis in law as good ;

So he that cannot write one word of sense, 715

Believes he has as legal a pretence,

To scribble what he does not understand,

As idiots have a title to their land.

WEEE Tully now alive, he 'd be to seek

In all our Latin terms of art, and Greek ; 720

Would never understand one word of sense

The most irrefragable schoolman means ;

As if the schools design'd their terms of art

Not to advance a science, but divert ;

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 291

As Hocus Pocus conjures, ta amuse 725

The rabble from observing what he does.

As 'tis a greater mystery, in the art

Of painting, to foreshorten any part

Than draw it out, so 'tis in books the chief

Of all perfections to be plain and brief. 730

I'HE man that for his profit 's brought t' obey, Is only hir'd, on liking, to betray ; And, when he 's bid a liberaller price, Will not be sluggish in the work, nor nice.

OPINIATOBS naturally differ 735

From other men ; as wooden legs are stiffer Than those of pliant joints, to yield and bow, Which way soe'er they are design'd to go.

NAVIGATION, that withstood

The mortal fury of the Flood, 740

And proVd the only means to save

All earthly creatures from the wave,

Has, for it, taught the sea and wind

To lay a tribute on mankind,

That, by degrees, has swallow'd more 715

Than all it drown'd at once before.

THE prince of Syracuse, whose destin'd fate It was to keep a school and rule a state, Found that his sceptre never was so aw'd, As when it was translated to a rod ; 750

And that his subjects ne'er were so obedient. As when he was inaugurated pedant :

292 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.

For to instruct is greater than to rule,

And no command 's so' imperious as a school.

As he whose destiny does prove 755

To dangle in the air above,

Does lose his life for want of air,

That only fell to be his share ;

So he whom Fate at once design'd

To plenty and a wretched mind, 760

Is but condemn'd t* a rich distress,

And starves with niggardly excess.

THE Universal Med'cine is a trick,

That Nature never meant to cure the sick,

Unless by death, the singular receipt, 705

To root out all diseases by the great :

For universals deal in no one part

Of Nature, nor particulars of Art ;

And therefore that French quack that set up physic,

Call'd his receipt a General Specific. 770

For though in mortal poisons every one

Is mortal universally alone,

Yet Nature never made an antidote : ;lif<t

To cure them all as easy as they 're got ;

Much less, among so many variations 775

Of diff 'rent maladies and complications,

Make all the contrarieties in Nature

Submit themselves t' an equal moderator.

A CONVERT 's but a fly, that turns about,

After his head 's pull'd off. to find it out. 7so

ALL mankind is but a rabble

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 293

As silly and unreasonable

As those that, crowding in the street,

To see a show or monster meet ;

Of whom no one is in the right, 785

Yet all fall out about the sight,

And when they chance t' agree, the choice is

Still in the most and worst of vices;

And all the reasons that prevail,

Are measur'd, not by weight, but tale. 790

As in all great and crowded fairs

Monsters and puppet-plays are wares,

Which in the less will not go off,

Because they have not money enough ;

So men in princes' courts will pass, 70f>

That will not in another place.

LOGICIANS us'd to clap a proposition,

As justices do criminals, in prison,

And in as learn'd authentic nonsense writ

The names of all their moods and figures fit : sco

For a logician 's one that has been broke

To ride and pace his reason by the book,

And by their rules, and precepts, and examples,

To put his wits into a kind of trammels.

THOSE get the least that take the greatest pains,

But most of all i' the drudgery of brains ; sco

A nat'ral sign of weakness, as an ant

Is more laborious than an elephant ;

And children are more busy at their play

Than those that wisely'st pass their time away, sio

294 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.

ALL the inventions that the world contains, Were not by reason first found out, nor brains ; But pass for theirs who had the luck to light Upon them by mistake or oversight.

TRIPLETS UPON AVARICE.

AS misers their own laws enjoin To wear no pockets in the mine. For fear they should the ore purloin ;

So he that toils and labours hard To gain, and what he gets has spar'd, Is from the use of all debarr'd.

And though he can produce more spankers Than all the usurers and bankers, Yet after more and more he hankers;

And after all his pains are done, Has nothing he can call his own, But a mere livelihood alone.

DESCRIPTION OF HOLLAND.

A COUNTRY that draws fifty foot of water, In which men live, as in the hold of Nature, And when the sea does in upon them break,

DESCRIPTION OF HOLLAND. 295

And drowns a province, does but spring a leak ; That always ply the pump, and never think 5 They can be safe, but at the rate they stink ; That live as if they had been run aground, And, when they die, are cast away, and drown'd ; That dwell in ships, like swarms of rats, and prey Upon the goods all nations' fleets convey ; 10

And, when their merchants are blown up and crackt, ^/Vhole towns are cast away in storms, and wreckt; That feed, like Cannibals, on other fishes, And serve their cousin-germans up in dishes : A land that rides at anchor, and is moor'd, 15 In which they do not live, but go aboard.

TO HIS MISTRESS.

DO not unjustly blame My guiltless breast, For vent'ring to disclose a flame It had so long supprest.

In its own ashes it design'd

For ever to have lain ; But that my sighs, like blasts of wind,

Made it break out again.

296

TO THE SAME.

DO not mine affection slight, 'Cause my locks with age are white : Your breasts have snow without, and snow within, While flames of fire in your bright eyes are seen.

EPIGRAM ON A CLUB OF SOTS.

HPHE jolly members of a toping club,

. Like pipe-staves, are but hoop'd into a tub, And in a close confederacy link, For nothing else but only to hold drink.

HUDIBRAS'S ELEGY.* *

IN days of yore, when knight or squire By Fate were summon'd to retire, Some menial poet still was near, To bear them to the hemisphere,

* As neither this Elegy, nor the following Epitaph, is to be found in the ' Genuine Remains ' of Butler, as published by Mr. Thyer from the manuscripts in the possession of the late William Longueville, Esq. they appear to have been rejected by the Editor, with a multitude of others, as being

HUDIBRAS'S ELEGY. 207

And there among the stars to leave them, 5

Until the gods sent to relieve them :

And sure our knight, whose very sight would

Entitle him Mirror of Knighthood,

Should he neglected lie, and rot,

Stink in his grave, and be forgot, 10

Would have just reason to complain,

If he should chance to rise again ;

And therefore to prevent his dudgeon,

In mournful dogg'rel thus we trudge on.

Oh me ! what tongue, what pen can tell 1-5

How this renowned champion fell ? But must reflect, alas ! alas ! All human glory fades like grass, And that the strongest martial feats Of errant knights are all but cheats ! 20

Witness our Knight, who sure has done More valiant actions, ten to one, Than of More-Hall the mighty More, Or him that made the Dragon roar ; Has knock'd more men and women down, 25

Than Bevis of Southampton town ; Or than our modern heroes can, To take them singly man by man.

No, sure the grisly King of terror Has been to blame, and in an error, so

To issue his dead warrant forth

spurious ; but as both have constantly made a part of the collection of poems frequently reprinted under the title of the ' Posthumous Works of Samuel Butler,' and as they besides relate particularly to the hero of that poem whereon our Author's chiefest reputation is built, it is hoped the reader •will not be displeased to find them subjoined to these ' Genuine "Remains' of the celebrated author of ' Hudibras.'

298 HUDIBRAS'S ELEGY.

To seize a knight of so much worth,

Just in the nick of all his glory ;

I tremble when I tell the story.

Oh ! help me, help me, some kind Muse, ?£

This surly tyrant to abuse,

Who, in his rage, has been so cruel

To rob the world of such a jewel !

A knight more learned, stout, and good,

Sure ne'er was made of flesh and blood ; 40

All his perfections were so rare,

The wit of man could not declare

Which single virtue, or which grace,

Above the rest had any place,

Or which he was most famous for, *.">

The camp, the pulpit, or the bar ;

Of each he had an equal spice,

And was in all so very nice,

That, to speak truth, th' account it lost,

In which he did excel the most. so

When he forsook the peaceful dwelling,

And out he went a colonelling,

Strange hopes and fears possest the nation,

How he could manage that vocation,

Until he shew'd it to a wonder, M

How nobly he could fight and plunder.

At preaching too he was a dab,

More exquisite by far than Squab ;

He could fetch uses, and infer,

Without the help of metaphor, fiO

From any Scripture text, howe'er

Remote it from the purpose were ;

And with his fist instead of a stick,

Beat pulpit, drum ecclesiastic,

IIUDIBRAS'S ELEGY. 299

Till he made all the audience weep, 65

Excepting those that fell asleep. Then at the bar he was right able, And could bind o'er as well as swaddle ; And famous too, at petty sessions, 'Gainst thieves and whores for long digressions. 70 He could most learnedly determine To Bridewell, or the stocks, the vermin. For his address and way of living, All his behaviour was so moving, That let the dame be ne'er so chaste, 75

As people say, below the waist, If Hudibras but once come at her, He 'd quickly make her chaps to water : Then for his equipage and shape, On vestals they 'd commit a rape, so

Which often, as the story says, Have made the ladies weep both ways. Ill has he read that never heard How he with Widow Tomson far'd, And what hard conflict was between 85

Our Knight and that insulting quean. Sure captive knight ne'er took more pains For rhymes for his melodious strains, Nor beat his brains, or made more faces, To get into a jilt's good graces, w

Than did Sir Hudibras to get Into this subtle gypsy's net, Who, after all her high pretence To modesty and innocence,

Was thought by most to be a woman as

That to all other knights was common. Hard was his fate in this I own,

300 HUDIBRAS'S ELEGY. '

Nor will I for the trapes atone ;

Indeed to guess I am not able,

What made her thus inexorable, 100

Unless she did not like his wit,

Or, what is worse, his perquisite.

Howe'er it was, the wound she gave

The Knight, he carry'd to his grave :

Vile harlot, to destroy a knight 105

That could both plead, and pray, and fight.

Oh ! cruel, base, inhuman drab,

To give him such a. mortal stab,

That made him pine away and moulder,

As though that he had been no soldier : no

Couldst thou find no one else to kill,

Thou instrument of death and hell,

But Hudibras, who stood the Bears

So oft against the Cavaliers,

And in the very heat of war 115

Took stout Crowdero prisoner ;

And did such wonders all along, B Y

That far exceed both pen and tongue ?

If he had been in battle slain, We had less reason to complain ; 120

But to be murder'd by a whore, Was ever knight so serv'd before ? But since he 's gone, all we can say He chanc'd to die a ling'ring way ; If he had livM a longer date, 123

He might, perhaps, have met a fate More violent, and fitting for A knight so fam'd in Civil war. To sum up all — from love and danger He 's now (0 ! happy Knight) a stranger ; iuo

HUDIBRAS'S ELEGY. 301

And if a Muse can aught foretell, His fame shall fill a chronicle, And he in after-ages be Of errant knights th' epitome.

HUDIBRAS'S EPITAPH.

UNDER this stone rests Hudibras, A Knight as errant as e'er was ; The controversy only lies, Whether he was more stout than wise ; Nor can we here pretend to say, 5

Whether he best could fight or pray ; So, till those questions are decided, His virtues must rest undivided. Full oft he suffer'd bangs and drubs, And full as oft took pains in tubs ; 10

Of which the most that can be said, He pray'd and fought, and fought and pray'd. As for his personage and shape, Among the rest we '11 let them ''scape ; Nor do we, as things stand, think fit 15

This stone should meddle with his wit. One thing 'tis true, we ought to tell, He liv'd and died a colonel ; And for the Good old Cause stood buff, 'Gainst many a bitter kick and cuff. 20

But since his Worship 's dead and gone, And mould'ring lies beneath this stone,

>02 IIUDIBRAS'S EPITAPH.

The reader is desir'd to look

For his achievements in his Book ;

Which will preserve of Knight the Tale, 25

Till Time and Death itself shall fail.

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