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Beside, th' experiment's more certain :
And, like to heralds' moons, remain Men venture necks to gain a fortune:
All crescents, without change or wane." The soldier does it every day
“ Hold, hold,” quoth she, “no more of this, (Eight to the week) for sixpence pay;
Sir Knight, you take your aim amiss; Your pettifoggers damn their souls,
For you will find it a hard chapter, To share with knaves, in cheating fools;
To catch me with poetic rapture, And merchants, vent'ring through the main, In which your mastery of art Slight pirates, rocks, and horns, for gain :
Doth show itself, and not your heart: This is the way I advise you to;
Nor will you raise in mine combustion, Trust me, and see what I will do."
By dint of high heroic fustian. Quoth she, “I should be loth to run
She that with poetry is won, Myself all th' hazard, and you none;
Is but a desk to write upon; Which must be done, unless some deed
And what men say of her, they mean Of your's aforesaid do precede :
No more than on the thing they lean. Give but yourself one gentle swing,
Some with Arabian spices strive For trial, and I'll cut the string ;
T' embalm her cruelly alive: Or give that reverend head a maul,
Or season her, as French cooks use Or two, or three, against a wall,
Their hant-gousts, boullies, or ragousts : To show you are a man of me'tle,
Use ber so barbarously ill,
To grind her lips upon a mill,
Fit their rhymes rather than her mouth: Nor (like the Indian's scull) so tough,
Her mouth, compar'd t' an oyster's, with That, authors say, 'twas musket-proof:
A row of pearl in 't, 'stead of teeth. As it had need to be, to enter,
Others make posies of her cheeks, As yet, on any new adventure:
Where red and whitest colours mix; You see what bangs it has endurid,
In which the lily and the rose, That would, before new feats, be curd:
For Indian lake and ceruse goes. But if that's all you stand upon,
The Sun and Moon, by her bright eyes, Here strike me, Luck, it shall be done."
Eclips'd, and darken'd in the skies, Quoth she, “The matter's not so far gone Are but black patches, that she wears, As you suppose; two words t' a bargain:
Cut into suns, and moons, and stars; That may be done, and time enough,
By which astrologers, as well When you have given downright proof;
As those in Heaven above, can tell And yet 'tis no fantastic pique
What strange events they do foreshow I have to love, nor coy dislike;
Unto her under-world below. "Tis no implicit, nice aversion
Her voice, the music of the spheres, T your conversation, mien, or person;
So loud, it deafens mortals' ears, But a just fear, lest you should prove
As wise philosophers have thought, False and perfidious in love:
And that's the cause we hear it not. For, if I thought you could be true,
This has been done by some, who those I could love twice as much as you."
Th’ador'd in rhyme would kick in prose; Quoth he, “ My faith, as adamantin
And in those ribbons would have hung, As chains of Destiny, I'll maintain:
Of which melodiously they sung, True as Apollo ever spoke,
That have the hard fate to write best Or oracle from heart of oak;
Of those still that deserve it least ; And if you'll give my fame but vent,
It matters not how false or forc'd, Now in close hugger-nugger pent,
So the best things be said o' th' worst; And shine upon me but benignly,
It goes for nothing when 'tis said, With that one and that other pigsney,
Only the arrow's drawn toʻth' head, The Sun and day shall sooner part,
Whether it be a swan or goose Than love or you shake off my heart;
They level at: so shepherds use The Sun, that shall no more dispense
To set the same mark on the hip His own, but your bright influence.
Both of their sound and rotten sheep: I'll carve your name on barks of trees,
For wits that carry low or wide With true-loves-knots and flourishes,
Must be aim'd higher, or beside That shall infuse eternal spring,
The mark, which else they ne'er come nigh, And everlasting flourishing;
But when they take their aim awry. Drink every letter on 't in stum,
But I do wonder you should choose And make it brisk champaign become.
This way t' attack me, with your Muse, Where'er you tread, your foot shall set
As one cut out to pass your tricks on, The primrose and the violet;
With Fulhams? of poetic fiction :
I rather hop'd I should no more
For hard dry-bastings us'd to prove
The readiest remedies of love, The world depend upon your eye,
Next a dry-diet; but if those fail,
Yet this uneasy loop-hol'd gaol,
2 A cant word for false dice.
in which ye 're hamper'd by the fetlock,
Look on this beard, and tell me whether Cannot but put y' in mind of wedlock;
Eunuchs wear such, or geldings either? Wedlock, that 's worse than any hole here,
Next it appears I am no horse, If that may serve you for a cooler
That I can argue and discourse, To allay your mettle, all'agog
Have but two legs, and ne'er a tail.” Upon a wife, the heavier clog :
Quoth she, “ That nothing will avail; Nor rather thank your gentler Fate,
For some philosophers of late here, That for a bruis d or broken pate
Write men have four legs by Nature, Has freed you from those knobs that grow
And that 'tis custom makes them go Much harder on the marry'd brow:
Erroneously upon but two; But if no dread can cool your courage,
As 'twas in Germany made good, From venturing on that dragon, marriage,
B'a boy that lost himself in a wood, Yet give me quarter, and advance
And growing down t'a man, was wont To nobler aims your puissance;
With wolves upon all four to hunt. Level at Beauty and at Wit;
As for your reasons drawn from tails, The fairest mark is easiest hit."
We cannot say they 're true or false, Quoth Hudibras, “ I am beforehand
Till you explain yourself, and show In that already, with your command;
B' experiment 'tis so or no.” For where does Beauty and high Wit,
Quoth he, “ If you'll join issue on 't, But in your constellation, meet?"
I'll give you satisfactory account; Quoth she, “What does a match imply, So you will promise, if you lose, But likeness and equality ?
To settle all, and be my spouse." I know you cannot think me fit
“ That never shall be done,” quoth she, To be th' yoke-fellow of your wit ;
To one that wants a tail, by me; Nor take one of so mean deserts,
For tails by Nature sure were meant, To be the partner of your parts;
As well as beards, for ornament; A grace which, if I could believe,
And though the vulgar count them homely, I've not the conscience to receive."
In men or beast they are so comely, “ That conscience,” quoth Hudibras,
So gentee, alamode, and handsome, " Is misinform’d; I'll state the case.
I'll never marry man that wants one: A man may be a legal donor
And till you can demonstrate plain, Of any thing whereof he's owner,
You have one equal to your mane, And may confer it where he lists,
I'll be torn piecemeal by a horse, I' th' judgment of all casuists:
Ere I'll take you for better or worse. Then wit, and parts, and valour, may
The prince of Cambay's daily food Be ali'nated, and made away,
Is asp, and basilisk, and toad, By those that are proprietors,
Which makes him have so strong a breath, As I may give or sell my horse."
Each night he stinks a queen to death; Quoth she, “I grant the case is true,
Yet I shall rather lie in 's arms And proper 'twixt your horse and you;
Than your's on any other terms." But whether I may take, as well
Quoth he, “ What Nature can afford As you may give away or sell?
I shall produce, upon my word ; Buyers, you know, are bid beware;
And if she ever gave that boon And worse than thieves receivers are.
To man, I'll prove that I have one; How shall I answer Hue and Cry,
I mean by postulate illation, For a roan-gelding, twelve hands high,
When you shall offer just occasion; All spurr'd and switch'd, a lock on 's hoof,
But since ye ’ave yet deny'd to give A sorrel mane? Can I bring proof
My heart, your prisoner, a reprieve, Where, when, by whom, and what y' were sold for, But made it sink down to my heel, And in the open market tollid for?
Let that at least your pity feel; Or, should I take you for a stray,
And for the sufferings of your martyr, You must be kept a year and day,
Give its poor entertainer quarter; (Ere I can own you) here i’ th' pound,
And by discharge, or mainprize, grant
Quoth she, “I grieve to see your leg For all your provender and hay."
Stuck in a hole here like a pey, Quoth be," It stands me much upon
And if I knew which way to do 't, T enervate this objection,
(Your honour safe) I'd let you out. And prove myself, by topic clear,
That dame: by gaol-delivery No gelding, as you would infer.
Of errant knights have been set free, Loss of virility's averr'd
When by enchantment they have been, To be the cause of loss of beard,
And sometimes for it, too, laid in, That does (like embryo in the womb)
Is that which knights are bound to do Abortive on the chin become:
By order, oath, and honour too; This first a woman did invent,
For what are they renown'd and famous else, In envy of man's ornament,
But aiding of distressed damosels ? Semiramis of Babylon,
But for a lady, no ways errant, Who first of all cut men o'th' stone,
To free a knight, we have no warrant To mar their beards, and laid foundation
In any authentical romance, Of sow-geldering operation :
Or classic author yet of France;
And I'd be loth to have you break
Who would not rather suffer whippan, An ancient custom for a freak,
Than swallow toasts of bits of ribbin? Or innovation introduce
Make wicked verses, treats, and faces, In place of things of antique use,
And spell names over, with beer-glasses? To free your beels by any course
Be under vows to hang and die That might be unwholesome to your spurs : Love's sacrifice, and all a lie? Which, if I should consent unto,
With China-oranges and tarts, It is not in my power to do;
And whining plays, lay baits for hearts? For 'tis a service must be done ye
Bribe chamber-maids with love and money, With solemn previous ceremony;
To break no roguish jests upon ye? Which always has been usd tuntie
For lilies limn'd on cheeks, and roses, The charms of those who here do lie:
With painted perfumes, hazard noses? For as the ancients heretofore
Or, venturing to be brisk and wanton, To Honour's temple had no door
Do penance in a paper lantern? But that which thorough Virtue's lay;
All this you may compound for now, So from this dungeon there 's no way
By suffering what I offer you; To honour'd Freedomn, but by passing
Which is no more than has been done That other virtuous school of Lashing,
By knights for ladies long agone. Where knights are kept in narrow lists,
Did not the great La Mancha do so With wooden lockets 'bout their wrists;
For the infanta Del Toboso ? In which they for a while are tenants,
Did not th' illustrious Bassa make And for their ladies suffer penance:
Himself a slave for Misse's sake, Whipping, that's Virtue's governess,
And with bull's pizzle, for her love, Tutress of arts and sciences;
Was taw'd as gentle as a glove? That mends the gross mistakes of Nature,
Was not young Florio sent (to cool And puts new life into dull matter;
His flame for Biancafiore) to school, That lays foundation for renown,
Where pedant made his pathic bum And all the honours of the gown:
For her sake suffer martyrdom? This suffer'd, they are set at large,
Did not a certain lady whip, And freed with honourable discharge;
Of late, her husband's own lordship? Then, in their robes, the penitentials
And though a grandee of the house, Are straight presented with credentials,
Claw'd bim with fundamental blows; And in their way attended on
Ty'd him stark-naked to a bed-post, By magistrates of every town;
And firk'd his hide, as if she 'ad rid post; And, all respect and charges paid,
And after in the sessions court, They're to their ancient seats conveyil.
Where whipping's judg'd, had honour fort! Now if you'll venture, for my sake,
This swear you will perform, and then To try the toughness of your back,
I'll set yon from th' enchanted den, And suffer (as the rest have done)
And the magician's circle, clear." The laying of a whipping-on,
Quoth he, “I do profess and swear, (And may you prosper in your suit
And will perform what you enjoin, As you with equal vigour do't)
Or may I never see you mine." I here engage myself to loose ye,
“ Amen!" quoth she; then turn d about, And free your heels from caperdewsie.
And bid her squire let him out. But since our sex's modesty
But ere an artist could be found Will not allow I should be by,
T' undo the charms another bound, Bring me on oath a fair account,
The Sun grew low, and left the skies, And honour too, when you have don't;
Put down (some write) by ladies' eyes. And I'll admit you to the place
The Moon pullid off her veil of light, You claim as due in my good grace.
That hides her face by day from sight, If matrimony and hanging go
(Mysterious veil, of brightness made, By destiny, why not whipping too?
That's both her lustre and her shade!) What med'cine else can cure the fits
And in the lantern of the night, Of lovers when they lose their wits?
With shining horns hung out her light; Love is a boy, by poets styld,
For darkness is the proper sphere Then spare the rod, and spoil the child.
Where all false glories use t' appear. “ A Persian emperor whipp'd his grannam, The twinkling stars began to muster, The Sea, his mother Venus came on;
And glitter with their borrow'd lustre, And hence some reverend men approve
While Sleep the weary'd world reliev'd, Of rosemary in making love.
By counterfeiting Death reviv'd. As skilful coopers hoop their tubs
His whipping penance, till the morn, With Lydian and with Phrygian dubs,
Our votary thought it best t adjourn, Why may not whipping have as good
And not to carry on a work A grace? perform'd in time and mood,
Of such importance in the dark, With comely movement, and by art,
With erring haste, but rather stay, Raise passion in a lady's heart?
And do't in th’ open face of day; It is an easier way to make
And in the mean time go in quest Love by, than that wbich many take.
Of next retreat to take his rest.
And what I've sworn to bear forbear,
And so b' equivocation swear,
Are deep and subtle points, which must,
T" inform my conscience, be discust; The knight and squire in hot dispute,
In which to err a tittle may Within an ace of falling out,
To errours infinite make way: Are parted with a sudden fright
And therefore I desire to know Of strange alarm, and stranger sight;
Thy judgment, ere we further go." With which adventuring to stickle,
Quoth Ralpho,“ Since you do injoin 't, They're sent away in nasty pickle.
I shall enlarge upon the point;
Th' affirmative may be made out.
But first, to state the case aright, (Like bawd and brandy) with dispute,
For best advantage of our light: That for their own opinions stand fast
And thus 'tis; whether 't be a sin Only to have them claw'd and canvast;
To claw and curry your own skin, That keep their consciences in cases,
Greater or less, than to forbear, As fiddlers do their crowds and bases;
And that you are forsworn forswear. Ne'er to be us'd, but when they're bent
But first, o'th' first: The inward man, To play a fit for argument:
And outward, like a clan and clan, Make true and false, unjust and just,
Have always been at daggers-drawing, Of no use but to be discust;
And one another clapper-clawing; Dispute, and set a paradox,
Not that they really cuff or fence, Like a strait boot, upon the stocks,
But in a spiritual mystic sense ; And stretch it more unmercifully
Which to mistake, and make them squabble Than Helmot, Montaigne, White, or Tully. In literal fray, 's abominable : So th' ancient Stoics, in their porch,
"Tis heathenish, in frequent use With fierce dispute maintain'd their church, With Pagans and apostate Jews, Beat out their brains in fight and study,
To offer sacrifice of Bridewells, To prove that virtue is a body,
Like modern Indians to the r idols; '. That bonum is an animal,
And mongrel Christians of our times, Made good with stout polemic brawl;
That expiate less with greater crimes, In which some hundreds on the place
And call the foul abomination Were slain outright, and many a face
Contrition and mortification. Retrench'd of nose, and eyes, and beard,
Is 't not enough we 're bruis'd and kicked, To maintain what their sect averr'd.
With sinful members of the wicked ; All which the knight and squire, in wrath,
Our vessels, that are sanctify'd, Had like t have suffer'd for their faith;
Profan'd, and curry'd back and side ; Each striving to make good his own,
But we must claw ourselves with shameful As by the sequel shall be shown.
And heathen stripes, by their example? The Sun had long since, in the lap
Which (were there nothing to forbid it) Of Thetis, taken out his nap,
Is impious, because they did it: And, like a lobster boil'd, the Morn
This, therefore, may be justly reckon'd From black to red began to turn;
A heinous sin. Now to the second ; When Hudibras, whom thoughts and aching That saints may claim a dispensation Twixt sleeping kept, all night, and waking, To swear and forswear on occasion, Began to rub his drowsy eyes,
I doubt not but it will appear And from his couch prepar'd to rise,
With pregnant light: the point is clear. Resolving to dispatch the deed
Oaths are but words, and words but wind : He vowd to do, with trusty speed:
Too feeble implements to bind; But first with knocking loud, and bawling,
And hold with deeds proportion, so He rouz'd the squire, in truckle lolling :
As shadows to a substance do. And after many circumstances,
Then when they strive for place, 'tis fit Which vulgar authors in romances
The weaker vessel should submit. Do use to spend their time and wits on,
Although your church be opposite To make impertinent description,
To ours, as black friars are to white, They got (with much ado) to horse,
In rule and order, yet I grant And to the castle bent their course,
You are a reformado saint; In which he to the dame before
And what the saints do claim as due, To suffer whipping-duty swore:
Yon may pretend a title to: Where now arriv'd, and half unharnest,
But saints, whom oaths and vows oblige, To carry on the work in earnest,
Know little of their privilege; He stopp'd, and paus'd upon the sudden,
Further (I mean) than carrying on And, with a serious forehead plodding,
Some self-advantage of their own : Sprung a new scruple in his head,
For if the Devil, to serve his turn, Which first he scratch'd, and after said;
Can tell truth, why the saints should scorn, “Whether it be direct infringing
When it serves theirs, to swear and lie, An oath, if I should wave this swinging,
I think there's little rea: on why: VOL VIII.
Else he 'as a greater power than they,
Oaths were not purpos'd, more than law, Which 'twere impiety to say.
To keep the good and just in awe, We 're not commanded to forbear,
But to confine the bad and sinful, Indefinitely, at all to swear;
Like mortal cattle in a pinfold. But to swear idly, and in vain,
A saint 's of th' heav'nly realm a peer; Without self-interest or gain :
And as no peer is bound to swear, For breaking of an oath and lying
But on the gospel of his honour, Is but a kind of self-denying,
Of which he may dispose, as owner, A saint-like virtue; and from hence
It follows, though the thing be forgery, Some have broke oaths by Providence:
And false, t'affirm it is no perjury, Some, to the glory of the Lord,
But a mere ceremony, and a breach Perjur'd themselves, and broke their word:
Of nothing but a form of speech, And this the constant rule and practice
And goes for no more when 'tis took, Of all our late Apostles' acts is.
Than mere saluting of the book. Was not the cause at first begun
Suppose the Scriptures are of force, With perjury, and carry'd on?
They 're but commissions of course ; Was there an oath the godly took,
And saints have freedom to digress, But in due time and place they broke?
And vary from them as they please ; Did we not bring our oaths in first,
Or misinterpret them by private Before our plate, to have them burst,
Instructions, to all aims they drive at And cast in fitter models, for
Then why should we ourselves abridge, The present use of church and war?
And curtail our own privilege? Did not our worthies of the house,
Quakers (that, like to lanterns, bear Before they broke the peace, break vows ?
Their light within them) will not swear; For, having freed us first froin both
Their gospel is an Accidence, Th' allegiance and suprem'cy oath,
By which they construe conscience, Did they not next compel the nation
And hold no sin so deeply red, To take, and break the protestation ?
As that of breaking Priscian's head, To swear, and after to recant,
(The head and founder of their order, The solemn league and covenant ?
That stirring hats held worse than murder) To take th' engagement, and disclaim it,
These, thinking they 're oblig'd to troth Enforc'd by those who first did frame it?
In swearing, will not take an oath : Did they not swear at first, to fight
Like mules, who, if they've not their will For the king's safety and his right?
To keep their own pace, stand stock still: And after march'd to find him out,
But they are weak, and little know And charg'd him home with horse and foot; What free-born consciences may do. But yet still had the confidence
'Tis the temptation of the Devil To swear, it was in his defence ?
That makes all human actions evil; Did they not swear to live and die
For saints may do the same things by With Essex, and straight laid him by?
The spirit, in sincerity, If that were all, for some have swore
Which other men are tempted to, As false as they, if they did no more.
And at the Devil's instance do, Did they not swear to maintain law,
And yet the actions be contrary, In which that swearing made a flaw?
Just as the saints and wicked vary. For protestant religion vow,
For as on land there is no beast That did that vowing disallow?
But in some fish at sea 's exprest; For privilege of parliament,
So in the wicked there's no vice In which that swearing made a rent?
Of which the saints have pot a spice; And since, of all the three, not one
And yet that thing that 's pious in Is left in being, 'tis well known.
The one, in th' other is a sin. Did they not swear, in express words,
Is 't not ridiculous and nonsense, To prop and back the house of lords ?
A saint should be a slave to Conscience, And after turn'd out the whole houseful
That ought to be above such fancies, Of peers, as dangerous and unuseful.
As far as above ordinances ? So Cromwell, with deep oaths and vows,
She's of the wicked, as I guess, Swore all the commons out o'th' house;
B' her looks, her language, and her dress : Vow'd that the red-coats would disband,
And though, like constables, we search Ay, marry would they, at their command;
For false wares one another's church; And trolld them on, and swore, and swore,
Yet all of us hold this for true, Till th' army turn'd them out of door.
No faith is to the wicked due. This tells us plainly what they thought,
For truth is precious and divine, That oaths and swearing go for nought,
Too rich a pearl for carnal swine." And that by them th' were only meant
Quoth Hudibras, “ All this is true; To serve for an expedient.
Yet 'tis not fit that all men knew What was the public faith found out for,
Those mysteries and revelations; But to slur men of what they fought for ?
And therefore topical evasions The public faith, which every one
Of subtle turns and shifts of sense Is bound t' observe, yet kept by none;
Serve best with th' wicked for pretence ; And if that go for nothing, why
Such as the learned Jesuits use, Should private faith have such a tie?
And presbyterians, for excuse