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A strange chimera of beasts and men,

That renders all the avenues Made up of pieces heterogene ;

To truth impervious and abstruse, Such as in Nature never met

By making plain things, in debate, In eodem subiecto yet.

By art perplext and intricate: Thy other arguments are all

For nothing goes for sense or light, Supposures hypothetical,

That will not with old rules jamp right; That do but beg; and we may choose

As if rules were not in the schools Either to grant them, or refuse.

Deriv'd from truth, but truth from rules. Much thou hast said, which I know when

This pagan, heathenish invention And where thou stol'st from other men,

Is good for nothing but contention : (Whereby 'tis plain thy light and gifts

For as, in sword and buckler fight, Are all but plagiary shifts)

All blows do on the target light; And is the same that Ranter said,

So when men argue, the great'st part Who, arguing with me, broke my head,

O'th' contest falls on terms of art, And tore a handful of my beard ;

Until the fustian stuff be spent, The self-same cavils then I heard,

And then they fall to th' argument." When, being in hot dispute about

Quoth Hudibras, “ Friend Ralph, thou hast This controversy, we fell out ;

Outrun the constable at last: And what thou know'st I answer'd then,

For thou art fallen on a new
Will serve to answer thee again."

Dispute, as senseless as untrue,
Quoth Ralpho, “ Nothing but th' abuse But to the former opposite,
Of human learning you produce;

And contrary as black to white;
Learning, that cobweb of the brain,

Mere disparata; that concerning Profane, erroneous, and vain;

Presbytery, this human learning; A trade of knowledge, as replete

Two things s' averse, they never yet As others are with fraud and cheat;

But in thy rambling fancy met. An art t' incumber gifts and wit,

But I shall take a fit occasion And render both for nothing fit;

T' evince thee by' ratiocination, Makes light unactive, dull, and troubled,

Some other time, in place more proper Like little David in Saul's doublet:

Than this we're in; therefore let's stop here, A cheat that scholars put upon

And rest our weary'd bones a while,
Other men's reason and their own;

Already tir'd with other toil."
A fort of errour to ensconce
Absurdity and ignorance,

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HUDIBRAS.

IN THREE PARTS.

PART II. CANTO I.

THE ARGUMENT. The ht, by damnable magician, Being cast illegally in prison, Love brings his action on the case, And lays it upon Hudibras. How he receives the lady's visit, And cunningly solicits his suit, Which she defers; yet, on parole, Redeems him from th' enchanted hole.

But now, t'observe romantic method,
Let bloody steel a while be sheathed;
And all those harsh and rugged sounds
Of bastinados, cuts, and wounds,
Exchang'd to Love's more gentle style,
To let our reader breathe a while :
In whicb, that we may be as brief as
Is possible, by way of preface,
Is't not enough to make one strange,
That some men's fancies should ne'er change,
But make all people do and say
The same things still the self-same way?
Some writers make all ladies purloin'd,
And knights pursuing like a whirlwind :
Others make all their knights, in fits
Of jealousy, to lose their ts;
Till, drawing blood o' th' dames, like witches,
They're forthwith curd of their capriches.
Some always thrive in their amours,
By pulling plaisters off their sores;
As cripples do to get an alms,
Just so do they, and win their dames
Some force whole regions, in despite
O' geography, to change their site;
Make former times shake hands with latter,
And that which was before come after.
But those that write in rhyme still make
The one verse for th' other's sake;
For one for sense, and one for rhyme,
I think 's sufficient at one time.

But we forget in what sad plight
We whilom left the captive knight
And pensive squire, both bruis'd in body,
And conjur'd into safe custody.
Tir'd with dispute, and speaking Latin,
As well as basting and bear-baiting,
And desperate of any course,
To free himself by wit or force,

Ilis only solace was, that now
His dog-bolt fortune was so low,
That either it must quickly end,
Or turn about again, and mend,
In which he found th' event, no less
Than other times, beside his guess.

There is a tall long-sided dame,
(But wonderous light) yeleped Fame,
That like a thin cameleon boards
Herself on air, and eats her words;
Upon her shoulders wings she wears
Like hanging sleeves, lin'd through with ears,
And eyes, and tongues, as poets list,
Made good by deep mythologist :
With these she through the welkin flies,
And sometimes carries truth, oft lies;
With letters hung, like eastern pigeons,
And Mercuries of furthest regions ;
Diurnals writ for regulation
Of lying, to inform the nation,
And by their public use to bring down
The rate of whetstones in the kingdom.
About her neck a pacquet-mail,
Fraught with advice, some fresh, some stale,
Of men that walk'd when they were dead,
And cows of monsters brought to bed ;
Of hailstones big as pullets' eggs,
And puppies whelp'd with twice two legs;
A blazing-star seen in the west,
By six or seven men at least.
Two trumpets she does sound at once,
But both of clean contrary tones ;
But whether both with the same wind,
Or one before, and one behind,
We know not, only this can tell,
The one sounds vilely, th' other well,
And therefore vulgar authors name
Th' one Good, th other Evil Fame.

This tattling gossip knew two well
What mischief Hudibras befel,
And straight the spiteful tidings bears
Of all, to th' unkind Widow's ears.
Democritus ne'er laugh'd so loud,
To see bawds carted through the crowd,
Or funerals, with stately pomp,
March slowly on in solemn dump,
As she laugh'd out, until her back,
As well as sides, was like to crack.
She vow'd she would go see the sight,
And visit the distressed knight;
To do the office of a neighbour,
And be a gossip at his labour;
And from his wooden gaol, the stocks,
To set at large his fetter-locks ;

And by exchange, parole, or ransom,

Than to be seen with beard and face To free him from th' enchanted mansion.

By you in such a homely case.” This being resolv’d, she callid for hood

Quoth she, “ Those need not be asham'd And usher, implements abroad

For being honourably maim'd; Which ladies wear, beside a slender

If he that is in battle conquer'd Yonng waiting-damsel to attend her.

Have any title to his own beard, All which appearing, on she went

Though your's be sorely lugg'd and torn, To find the knight, in limbo pent :

It does your visage more adorn, And 'twas not long before she found

Than if 'twere prun'd, and starch'd, and landerd, Him and his stout squire in the pound;

And cut square by the Russian standard. Both coupled in enchanted tether,

A torn beard 's like a tatter'd ensign, By further leg behind together :

That's bravest which there are most rents in. For as he sat upon his rump,

That petticoat about your shoulders, His head, like one in doleful dump,

Does not so well become a soldier's; . Between his knees, his hands apply'd

And I'm afraid they are worse handled, Unto his ears on either side,

Although i'th' rear, your beard the van led; And by him, in another hole,

And those uneasy bruises make Amicted Ralpho, cheek by jowl:

My heart for company to ache, She came upon him in his wooden

To see so worshipful a friend Magician's circle, on the sudden,

l'th' pillory set, at the wrong end.” As spirits do t'a conjurer,

Quoth Hudibras, “ This thing call’d pain When in their dreadful shapes th' appear.

Is (as the learned Stoics maintain) No sooner did the knight perceive her,

Not bad simpliciter, nor good, But straight he fell into a fever,

But merely as 'tis understood. Intiam'd all over with disgrace,

Sense is deceitful, and may feigu To be seen by' her in such a place :

As well in counterfeiting pain Which made him hang his head and scoul, As other gross phenomenas, And wink and goggle like an owl;

In which it oft mistakes the case. He felt his brains begin to swiin,

But since th' inmortal intellect When thus the dame accosted him.

(That's free from errour and defect, “ This place," quoth she, “they say's enchanted, Whose objects still persist the same) And with delinquent spirits haunted,

Is free from outward bruise or maim, That here are ty'd in chains, and scourg'd, Which nought external can expose Until their guilty crimes be purg'd:

To gross material bangs or blows, Look, there are two of them appear,

It follows, we can ne'er be sure Like persons I have seen somewhere.

Whether we pain or not endure, Some have mistaken blocks and posts

And just so far are sore and griev'd For spectres, apparitions, ghosts,

As by the fancy is believ'd. With saucer-eyes and horns; and some

Some have been wounded with conceit, Have heard the Devil beat a drum;

And dy'd of mere opinion straight; But if our eyes are not false glasses,

Others, though wounded sore in reason, That give a wrong account of faces,

Felt no contusion, nor discretion. That beard and I should be acquainted,

A Saxon duke did grow so fat, Before 'twas conjur'd and enchanted;

That mice (as histories relate) For though it be disfigur'd somewhat,

Ate grots and labyrinths to dwell in As if 't had lately been in combat,

His postique parts, without his feeling ; It did belong to a worthy knight,

Then how's it possible a kick Howe'er this goblin is come by't.”

Shou'd e'er reach that way to the quick ?> When Hudibras the lady heard

Quoth she, I grant it is in vain Discoursing thus upon his beard,

For one that's basted to feel pain, And speak with such respect and honour

Because the pangs his bones endure Both of the beard and the beard's owner,

Contribute nothing to the cure; He thought it best to set as good

Yet Honour burt is wont to rage A face upon it as he cou'd;

With pain no med'eine can assuage." And thus he spoke: “ Lady, your bright

Quoth he, “ That Honour's very squeamish, And radiant eyes are in the right;

That takes a basting for a blemish: The beard's th' identic beard you knew,

For what's more honourable than scars, The same numerically true;

Or skin to tatters rent in wars? Nor is it worn by fiend or elf,

Some have been beaten till they know But its proprietor himself.”

What wood a cudgel's of by the blow : “O Heavens !” quoth she, “ can that be true? Soine kick'd, until they can feel whether I do begin to fear 'tis you;

A shoe be Spanish or neat’s leather; Not by your individual whiskers,

And yet have met, after long running, But by your dialect and discourse,

With some whom they have taught that cunning. That never spoke to man or beast

The furthest way about, to o'ercome, In notions vulgarly exprest :

In th' end does prove the nearest home. But what malignant star, alas !

By laws of learned duellists, Has bronght you both to this sad pass ?”

They that are bruis'd with wood or fists, Quoth he, “ The fortune of the war,

And think one beating may for once Which I ato less afflicted for,

Suffice, are cowards and poltroons ;

But if they dare engage t'a second,

And you b' experiment have prov'd, They're stout and gallant fellows reckon'd." I cannot love where I'ın belov'd." “Th' old Romans freedom did bestow,

Quoth Hudibras, “ 'Tis a caprich Our princes worship, with a blow,

Beyond th' infliction of a witch; King Pyrrhus csir'd his splenetic

So cheats to play with those still aim, And testy courtiers with a kick.

That do not understand the game, The Negus, when some mighty lord

Love in your heart as idly burns Or potentate's to be restor'd,

As fire in antique Roman ums And pardon’d for some great offence,

To warm the dead, and vainly light With which he's willing to dispense,

Those only that see nothing by't. First has him laid upon his belly,

Have you not power to entertain, Then beaten back and side ta jelly;

And render love for love again; That done, he rises, humbly bows,

As no man can draw in his breath And gives thanks for the princely blows;

At once, and force out air beneath ? Departs not meanly proud, and boasting

Or do you love yourself so much, Of his magnificent rib-roasting.

To bear all rivals else a grutch? The beaten soldier proves most manful,

What Fate can lay a greater curse That, like his sword, endures the anvil,

Than you upon yourself would force? And justly's held more formidable,

For wedlock withont love, some say, The more his valour's malleable :

Is but a lock without a key. But he that fears a bastinado,

It is a kind of rape to marry Will run away from his own shadow :

One that neglects, or cares not for ye: And though I'm now in durance fast,

For what does make it ravishment By our own party basely cast,

But being against the mind's consent? Ransom, exchange, parole, refus'd,

A rape that is the more inhuman, And worse than by th' enemy us'd;

For being acted by a woman. In close catasta shut, past hope

Why are you fair, but to entice us Of wit or valour to elope;

To love you, that you may despise us? As beards, the nearer that they tend

But though you cannot love, you say, To th' earth, still grow more reverend;

Out of your own fanatic way, And cannons shoot the higher pitches,

Why should you not at least allow The lower we let down their breeches;

Those that love you to do so too? I'll make this low dejected fate

For, as you fly me, and pursue Ailvance me to a greater height.”

Love more averse, so I do you ; Quoth she, “ You ’ave almost made me' in love And am by your own doctrine taught With that which did my pity move.

To practise what you call a fault.” Great wits and valours, like great states,

Quoth she, “ If what you say is true, Do sometimes sink with their own weights :

You must fly me as I do you ; Th' extremes of glory and of shame,

But 'tis not what we do, but say, Like east and west, become the same.

In love and preaching, that must sway.” No Indian prince has to his palace

Quoth be, “ To bid me not to love, More followers than a thief to the gallows.

Is to forbid my pulse to move, But if a beating seem so brave,

My beard to grow, my ears to prick up, What glories must a whipping have?

Or (when I'm in a fit) to hiccup. Such great achievements cannot fail

Command me to piss out the Moon, To cast salt on a woman's tail :

And 'twill as easily be done. For if I thought your natural talent

Love's power's too great to be withstood Of passive courage were so gallant,

By feeble human flesh and blood. As you strain hard to bave it thought,

'Twas be that brought upon his knees I could grow amorous, and doat."

The hectoring kill-cow Hercules; When Hudibras this language heard,

Transform’d bis leager-lion's skin He prick'd up's ears, and strok'd his beard. T" a petticoat, and made him spin; Thought he, this is the lucky hour,

Seiz'd on his club, and made it dwindle Wines work when vines are in the flower:

T'a feeble distaff and a spindle. This crisis then I'll set my rest on,

'Twas he that made emp'rors gallants And put her boldly to the quest'on.

To their own sisters and their aunts; “Madam, what you would seem to doubt, Set popes and cardinals agog, Shall be to all the world made out ;

To play with pages at leap-frog: How I've been drubb'd, and with what spirit 'Twas he that gave our senate purges, And magnanimity I bear it;

And fluxt the house of many a burgess; And if you doubt it to be true,

Made those that represent the nation I'll stake myself down against you ;

Submit, and suffer amputation; And if I fail in love or troth,

And all the grandees oth' cabal Be you the winner, and take both.”

Adjourn to tubs at spring and fall. Quoth she, “ I've heard old cunning stagers He mounted synod-men, and rode them Say, fools for arguments use wagers ;

To Dirty Lane and Little Sodom ; And though I prais'd your valour, yet

Made them curvet like Spanish Jenets, I did not mean to baulk your wit;

And take the ring at madame

's! Which if you have, you must needs know What I have told you before now,

? Stennet, a bawd.

'Twas he that made Saint Francis do

Love-passions are like parables, More than the Devil could tempt him to,

By which men still mean something else: In cold and frosty weather grow

Though love be all the world's pretence, Enamour'd of a wife of snow;

Money's the mythologic sense, And, though she were of rigid temper,

The real substanee of the shadow, With melting flames accost and tempt her, Which all address and courtship’s made to." Which after in enjoyment quenching,

Thought he, I understand your play, He hung a garland on his engine.”

And how to quit you your own way; Quoch she, “ If love have these effects,

He that will win his dame, must do Why is it not forbid our sex?

As Love does, when he bends his bow; Why is 't not damn'd and interdicted,

With one hand thrust the lady frum, For diabolical and wicked ?

And with the other pull her home. And sung, as out of tune, against,

“ I grant,” quoth he, “wealth is a great As Turk and pope are by the saints ?

Provocative to amorous heat : I find I've greater reason for it,

It is all philtres and high diet, Than I believ'd before, t' abhor it."

That makes love rampart and to fly out: Quoth Hudibras, “These sad effects

'Tis beauty always in the flower, Spring from your beathenish neglects

That buds and blossoms at fourscore: Of Love's great power, which he retums

'Tis that by which the Sun and Moon, l'pon yourselves with equal scorns,

At their own weapons, are outdone: And those, who worthy lovers slight,

That makes knights-errant fall in trances, Plagues with preposterous appetite:

And lay about them in romances : This made the beauteous queen of Crete

'Tis virtue, wit, and worth, and all To take a town-bull for her sweet;

That men divine and sacred call : And from her greatness stoop so low,

For what is worth in any thing, To be the rival of a cow:

But so much money as 'twill bring? Others to prostitute their great hearts,

Or what but riches is there known, To be baboons' and monkeys' sweethearts :

Which man can solely call his own, Soine with the Devil himself in league grow, In which no creature goes his half, By 's representative a Negro.

Unless it be to squint and laugh? Twas this made vestal maid love-sick,

I do confess, with goods and land, And venture to be buried quick:

I'd have a wife at second hand; Some by their fathers and their brothers

And such you are: nor is 't your person To be made mistresses and mothers.

My stomach's set so sharp and fierce on; Tis this that proudest dames enamours

But 'tis (your better part) your riches, On lacquies and valets de chambres ;

That my enamour'd heart bewitches : Their haughty stomachs overcomes,

Let me your fortune but possess, And makes them stoop to dirty grooms;

And settle your person how you please, To slight the world, and to disparage

Or make it o'er in trust to the Devil, Claps, issue, infamy, and marriage."

You'll find me reasonable and civil." Quoth she, “ These judgments are severe,

Quoth she, “ I like this plainness better Yet such as I should rather bear

Than false mock passion, speech, or letter, Than trust men with their oaths, or prove

Or any feat of qualm or sowning, Their faith and secresy in love.”

But hanging of yourself or drowning; Says he, “ There is as weighty reason

Your only way with me to break For secresy in love, as treason.

Your mind, is breaking of your reck: Love is a burglarer, a felon,

For as, when merchants break, o'erthrown That at the windore eye does steal in,

Like nine-pirrs, they strike others down; To rob the heart; and with his prey

So that would break my heart; which done, Steals out again a closer way;

My tempting fortune is your own. Which whosoever can discover,

These are but trifles; every lover He's sure (as he deserves) to suffer.

Will damn himself over and over, Love is a fire, thắt bums and sparkles

And greater matters undertake In men, as natrally as in charcoals,

For a less worthy mistress' sake: Which sooty chymists stop in holes,

Yet they 're the only ways to prove When out of wood they extract coals;

Th' unfeign'd realities of love; So lovers should their passions choke,

For he that hangs or beats out 's brains, That though they burn they may not smoke. The Devil's in him if he feigns." Tis like that sturdy thief that stole

Quoth Hudibras, “ This way's too rongls And dragg'd beasts backwards into 's hole; For mere experiment and proof; So Love does lovers, and us men

It is no jesting, trivial matter, Draws by the tails into his den,

To swing i'th' air, or douce in water, That no impression may discover,

And like a water-witch try love; And trace this cave the wary lover.

That's to destroy, and not to prove: But if you doubt I should reveal

As if a man should be dissected, What you intrust me under seal,

To find what part is disaffected; I'll prove myself as close and virtuous

Your better way is to make over, As your own secretary Albertus.”

In trust, your fortune to your lover: Quoth she, “I grant you may be close

Trust is a trial; if it break, In hiding what your aims propose :

'Tis not so desperate as a neck:

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