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Against the protestants, when th' happen
To find their churches taken napping:
As thus: A breach of oath is duple,
And either way admits a scruple,
And may be ex parte of the maker,
More criminal than th' injur'd taker;
For he that strains too far a vow,
Will break it, like an o'er-bent bow:
And he that made, and fore'd it, broke it,
Not he that for convenience took it.
A broken oath is, quatenus oath,
As sound t' all purposes of troth;
As broken laws are ne'er the worse,
Nay, till they 're broken have no force.
What's Justice to a man, or Laws,
That never comes within their claws?
They have no power, but to admonish;
Cannot controul, coerce, or punish,
Until they're broken, and then touch
Those only that do make them such.
Beside, no engagement is allow'd,
By men in prison made, for good;
For when they 're set at liberty,
They're from th' engagement too set free.
The rabbins write, When any Jew
Did make to God or man a vow,
Which afterward he found untoward,
And stubborn to be kept, or too hard,
Any three other Jews o' th' nation
Might free him from the obligation:
And have not two saints power to use
A greater privilege than three Jews?
The court of Conscience, which in man
Should be supreme and soveran,
Is 't fit should be subordinate
To ev'ry petty court in th' state,
And have less power than the lesser,
To deal with perjury at pleasure?
Have its proceedings disallow'd, or
Allow'd, at fancy of pye-powder?
Tell all it does, or does not know,
For swearing ex officio?

Be forc'd t' impeach a broken hedge,
And pigs uuring'd at vis. franc. pledge?
Discover thieves, and bawds, recusants,
Priests, witches, eaves-droppers, and nusance;
Tell who did play at games unlawful,
And who fill'd pots of ale but half-full;
And have no power at all, nor shift,
To help itself at a dead lift?

Why should not Conscience have vacation
As well as other courts o' th' nation;
Have equal power to adjourn,
Appoint appearance and return;
An i make as nice distinction serve
To split a case, as those that carve,
Invoking cuckolds' names, bit joints?
Why should not tricks as slight do points?
Is not th' high-court of Justice sworn
To judge that law that serves their turn?
Make their own jealousies high-treason,
And fix them whomsoe'er they please on?
Cannot the learned counsel there
Make laws in any shape appear?
Mould them as witches do their clay,
When they make pictures to destroy,
And vex them into any form
That fits their purpose to do harm?
Rack them until they do confess,
Impeach of treason whom they please,

And most perfidiously condemn
Those that engag'd their lives for them?
And yet do nothing in their own sense,
But what they ought by oath and conscience.
Can they not juggle, and with slight
Conveyance play with wrong and right;
And sell their blasts of wind as dear

As Lapland witches bottled air?

Will not Fear, Favour, Bribe, and Grudge,
The same case several ways adjudge?
As seamen, with the self-same gale,
Will several different courses sail.
As, when the sea breaks o'er its bounds,
And overflows the level grounds,
Those banks and dams, that, like a screen,
Did keep it out, now keep it in;
So when tyrannical usurpation
Invades the freedom of a nation,
The laws o' th' land, that were intended
To keep it out, are made defend it.
Does not in Chancery every man swear
What makes best for him in his answer?

Is not the winding-up witnesses,

And nicking, more than half the business?

For witnesses, like watches, go

Just as they're set, too fast or slow;

And where in conscience they 're straight-lac'd, 'Tis ten to one that side is cast.

Do not your juries give their verdict
As if they felt the cause, not heard it?
And as they please, make matter o' fact
Run all on one side, as they 're packt?
Nature has made man's breast no windores,
To publish what he does within doors;
Nor what dark secrets there inhabit,
Unless his own rash folly blab it.
If oaths can do à man no good
In his own business, why they shou'd,
In other matters, do him hurt,

I think there's little reason for 't.
He that imposes an oath makes it,
Not he that for convenience takes it:
Then how can any man be said

To break an oath he never made?

These reasons may perhaps look oddly

To th' wicked, though they evince the godly;
But if they will not serve to clear
My honour, I am ne'er the near.
Honour is like that glassy bubble,
That finds philosophers such trouble,
Whose least part crackt, the whole does fly,
And wits are crackt to find out why."

Quoth Ralpho, "Honour's but a word
To swear by only, in a lord:

In other men 'tis but a huff
To vapour with, instead of proof,
That, like a wen, looks big and swells,
Insenseless, and just nothing else."

"Let it," quoth he, "be what it will,
It has the world's opinion still.
But as men are not wise that run
The slightest hazard they may shun,
There may a medium be found out
To clear to all the world the doubt;
And that is, if a man may do 't,
By proxy whipt, or substitute."

"Though nice and dark the point appear," Quoth Ralph, "it may hold up and clear. That sinners may supply the place

Of suffering saints, is a plain case;

Justice gives sentence many times,
On one man for another's crimes.
Our brethren of New-England use
Choice malefactors to excuse,
And hang the guiltless in their stead,
Of whom the churches have less need;
As lately 't happen'd: In a town
There liv'd a cobbler, and but one,
That out of doctrine could cut use,
And mend men's lives as well as shoes.
This precious broker having slain,
In times of peace, an Indian,
Not out of malice, but mere zeal,
(Because he was an infidel)
The mighty Tottipottymoy
Sent to our elders an envoy,
Complaining sorely of the breach

Of league held forth by brother Patch,
Against the articles in force

Between both churches, his and ours,
For which he crav'd the saints to render
Into his hands, or hang th' offender;
But they, maturely having weigh'd
They had no more but him o' th' trade,
(A man that serv'd them in a double
Capacity, to teach and cobble)
Resolv'd to spare him; yet to do
The Indian Hoghan Moghan too
Impartial justice, in his stead did
Hang an old weaver that was bed-rid:
Then wherefore may not you be skipp'd,
And in your room another whipp'd?
For all philosophers, but the sceptic,
Hold whipping may be sympathetic."

"It is enough," quoth Hudibras,
"Thou hast resolv'd and clear'd the case;
And canst, in conscience, not refuse,
From thy own doctrine, to raise use:
I know thou wilt not (for my sake)
Be tender-conscienc'd of thy back:
Then strip thee of thy carnal jerkin,
And give thy outward-fellow a ferking;
For when thy vessel is new hoop'd,
All leaks of sinning will be stopp'd."

Quoth Ralpho, "You mistake the matter;
For, in all scruples of this nature,
No man includes himself, nor turns
The point upon his own concerns.
As no man of his own self catches
The itch, or amorous French aches:
So no man does himself convince,
By his own doctrine, of his sins:

And though all cry down self, none means
His own self in a literal sense:
Besides, it is not only foppish,
But vile, idolatrous, and popish,
For one man out of his own skin
To frisk and whip another's sin;

As pedants out of school-boys' breeches
Do claw and curry their own itches.
But in this case it is profane,
And sinful too, because in vain ;
For we must take our oaths upon it
You did the deed, when I have done it."

Quoth Hudibras, "That 's answer'd soon; Give us the whip, we'll lay it on."

Quoth Ralpho, "That we may swear true, Twere properer that I whipp'd you; For when with your consent 'tis done, The act is really your own."

Quoth Hudibras, "It is in vain,
I see, to argue 'gainst the grain,
Or, like the stars, incline men to
What they're averse themselves to do:
For, when disputes are weary'd out,
'Tis interest still resolves the doubt:
But since no reason can confute ye,
I'll try to force you to your duty;
For so it is, howe'er you mince it,
As, ere we part, I shall evince it ;
And curry, (if you stand out) whether
You will or no, your stubborn leather.
Canst thou refuse to hear thy part
I' th' public work, base as thou art?
To higgle thus, for a few blows,
To gain thy knight an opulent spouse,
Whose wealth his bowels yearn to purchase,
Merely for th' interest of the churches?
And when he has it in his claws
Will not be hide-bound to the cause:
Nor shalt thou find him a curmudgin,
If thou dispatch it without grudging:
If not, resolve, before we go,

That you and I must pull a crow."

"Ye 'ad best," quoth Ralpho, "as the ancients Say wisely, have a care o' th' main chance,' And look before you ere you leap ;'

For as you sow, ye 're like to reap:'
And were y' as good as George-a-Green,
I should make bold to turn again;
Nor am I doubtful of the issue

In a just quarrel, and mine is so.

Is 't fitting for a man of honour

To whip the saints, like bishop Bonner?
A knight t'usurp the beadle's office,

For which y' are like to raise brave trophies?

But I advise you (not for fear,

But for your own sake) to forbear,

And for the churches, which may chance,

From hence, to spring a variance,

And raise among themselves new scruples,
When common danger hardly couples.
Remember how in arms and politics

We still have worsted all your holy tricks:
Trepann'd your party with intrigue,
And took your grandees down a peg;
New-model'd th' army, and cashier'd
All that to Legion Smec adher'd;
Made a mere utensil o' your church,
And after left it in the lurch;

A scaffold to build up our own,

And when we 'ad done with 't pull'd it down;
Capoch'd your rabbins of the synod,
And snapp'd their canons with a Why-not:
(Grave synod-men, that were rever'd
For solid face, and depth of beard)
Their classic model prov'd a maggot,
Their direct'ry an Indian pagod;
And drown'd their discipline like a kitten,
On which they 'ad been so long a sitting;
Decry'd it as a holy cheat,

Grown out of date and obsolete,
And all the saints of the first grass,
As castling foals of Balaam's ass."

At this the knight grew high in chafe,
And, staring furiously on Ralph,
He trembled and look'd pale with ire,
Like ashes first, then red as fire.
"Have I," quoth he, "been ta'en in fight,
And for so many moons lain by't,

And when all other means did fail,
Have been exchang'd for tubs of ale?
Not but they thought me worth a ransom
Much more considerable and handsome,
But for their own sakes, and for fear,
They were not safe when I was there;
Now to be baffled by a scoundrel,
An upstart sectary, and mongrel,
Such as breed out of peccant humours

Of our own church, like wens or tumours,
And, like a maggot in a sore,

Would that which gave it life devour:
It never shall be done or said:"
With that he seiz'd upon his blade;
And Ralpho too, as quick and bold,
Upon his basket-hilt laid hold,
With equal readiness prepar'd,
To draw and stand upon his guard;
When both were parted on the sudden,
With hideous clamour, and a loud one,
As if all sorts of noise had been
Contracted into one loud din;
Or that some member to be chosen
Had got the odds above a thousand;
And by the greatness of his noise,
Prov'd fittest for his country's choice.
This strange surprisal put the knight
And wrathful squire into a fright;
And though they stood prepar'd with fatal
Impetuous rancour, to join battle,
Both thought it was the wisest course
To wave the fight, and mount to horse,
And to secure, by swift retreating,
Themselves from danger of worse beating.
Yet neither of them would disparage,
By uttering of his mind, his courage;
Which made them stoutly keep their ground,
With horrour and disdain wind-bound.
And now the cause of all their fear
By slow degrees approach'd so near,
They might distinguish different noise
Of horns, and pans, and dogs, and boys,
And kettle-drums, whose sullen dub
Sounds like the hooping of a tub.
But when the sight appear'd in view,
They found it was an antique shew;
A triumph that, for pomp and state,
Did proudest Romans' emulate:
For as the aldermen of Rome
Their foes at training overcome,
And not enlarging territory,
(As some, mistaken, write in story)
Being mounted in their best array,
Upon a carre, and who but they?
And follow'd with a world of tall-lads,

That merry ditties troll'd, and ballads,

Did ride with many a Good-morrow,

And after them, upon a nag,
That might pass for a forehand stag,
A cornet rode, and on his staff
A smock display'd did proudly wave;
Then bagpipes of the loudest drones,
With snuming, broken-winded tones,
Whose blasts of air, in pockets shut,
Sound filthier than from the gut,
And make a viler noise than swine
In windy weather, when they whine.
Next one upon a pair of panniers,

Full fraught with that, which, for good-manners,
Shall here be nameless, mixt with grains,
Which he dispens'd among the swains,
And busily upon the crowd

At random round about bestow'd.
Then, mounted on a horned horse,
One bore a gauntlet and gilt spurs,
Ty'd to the pummel of a long sword
He held reverst, the point turn'd downward:
Next after, on a raw-bon'd steed,
The conqueror's standard-bearer rid,
And bore aloft before the champion
A petticoat display'd, and rampant;
Near whom the Amazon triumphant
Bestrid her beast; and on the rump on't
Sat face to tail, and bum to bum,
The warrior whilom overcome,
Arm'd with a spindle and a distaff,
Which as he rode she made him twist off;
And when he loiter'd, o'er her shoulder
Chastiz'd the reformado soldier.
Before the dame, and round about,
March'd whifflers and staffiers on foot,
With lackies, grooms, valets, and pages,
In fit and proper equipages;

Of whom some torches bore, some links,
Before the proud virago minx,
That was both madam and a don,
Like Nero's Sporus or pope Joan;
And at fit periods the whole rout

Set up their throats with clamorous shout.
The knight transported, and the squire,
Put up their weapons and their ire;
And Hudibras, who us'd to ponder
On such sights with judicious wonder,
Could hold no longer to impart
His animadversions, for his heart.

Quoth he, "In all my life, till now,
I ne'er saw so profane a show;
It is a paganish invention,
Which heathen writers often mention:
And he who made it had read Goodwin,
Or Ross, or Cælius Rhodogine,
With all the Grecian Speeds and Stows,
That best describe those ancient shows;
And has observ'd all fit decorums

Crying, "Hey for our town," through the Borough; We find describ'd by old historians:

So when this triumph drew so nigh,
They might particulars descry,
They never saw two things so pat,
In all respects, as this and that.
First he that led the cavalcate
Wore a sow-gelder's flagellate,
On which he blew as strong a levet,
As well-fee'd lawyer on his brev'ate,
When over one another's heads

They charge (three ranks at once) like Sweads.
Next pans and kettles of all keys,

From trebles down to double base;

For as the Roman conqueror,
That put an end to foreign war,
Entering the town in triumph for it,
Bore a slave with him in his chariot;
So this insulting female brave
Carries, behind her here, a slave:
And as the ancients long ago,
When they in field defy'd the foe,
Hung out their mantles della guerre,
So her proud standard-bearer here,
Waves on his spear, in dreadful manner,
A Tyrian petticoat for banner.

Next links and torches heretofore
Still borne before the emperor:
And as in antique triumph eggs
Were borne for mystical intrigues,
There's one, in truncheon like a ladle,
That carries eggs too, fresh or addle;
And still at random, as he goes,
Among the rabble-rout bestows."

Quoth Ralpho, "You mistake the matter:
For all th' antiquity you smatter

Is but a riding us'd of course,

When the grey mare 's the better horse;'
When o'er the breeches greedy women
Fight, to extend their vast dominion,
And in the cause impatient Grizel
Has drubb'd her husband with bull's pizzle,
And brought him under covert-baron,
To turn her vassal with a murrain ;
When wives their sexes shift, like hares,
And ride their husbands, like night-mares,
And they, in mortal battle vanquish'd,
Are of their charter disenfranchis'd,
And by the right of war, like gills,
Condemn'd to distaff, horns, and wheels:
For when men by their wives are cow'd,
Their horns of course are understood."

Quoth Hudibras, "Thou still giv'st sentence
Impertinently, and against sense:
"Tis not the least disparagement
To be defeated by th' event,
Nor to be beaten by main force;
That does not make a man the worse,
Although his shoulders with battoon
Be claw'd and cudgel'd to some tune.
A tailor's 'prentice has no hard
Measure, that's bang'd with a true yard;
But to turn tail, or run away,
And without blows give up the day,
Or to surrender ere th' assault,
That's no man's fortune, but his fault;
And renders men of honour less
Than all th' adversity of success ;
And only unto such this shew
Of horns and petticoats is due.
There is a lesser profanation,
Like that the Romans call'd ovation:
For as ovation was allow'd

For conquest purchas'd without blood;
So men decree those lesser shows
For victory gotten without blows,

By dint of sharp hard words, which some
Give battle with, and overcome;
These, mounted in a chair-curule,
Which moderns call a cuckling-stool,
March proudly to the river's side,
And o'er the waves in triumph ride:
Like dukes of Venice, who are said
The Adriatic sea to wed;

And have a gentler wife than those
For whom the state decrees those shows.
But both are heathenish, and come
From th' whores of Babylon and Rome,
And by the saints should be withstood,
As antichristian and lewd;
And we, as such, should now contribute
Our utmost strugglings to prohibit."

This said, they both advanc'd, and rode
A dog-trot through the bawling crowd
T' attack the leader, and still prest,
Till they approach'd him breast to breast:

Then Hudibras, with face and hand,

Made signs for silence; which obtain'd,

"What means," quoth he, "this Devil's procession With men of orthodox profession?

'Tis ethnique and idolatrous,

From heathenism deriv'd to us.

Does not the Whore of Babylon ride

Upon her horned beast astride,

Like this proud dame, who either is

A type of her, or she of this?
Are things of superstitious function
Fit to be us'd in gospel sunshine?
It is an antichristian opera,

Much his'd in midnight times of popery ;
Of running after self-inventions
Of wicked and profane intentions;
To scandalize that sex for scolding,
To whom the saints are so beholding.
Women, who were our first apostles,
Without whose aid we 'd all been lost else;
Women, that left no stone unturn'd

In which the cause might be concern'd;
Brought in their children's spoons and whistles,
To purchase swords, carbines, and pistols;
Their husbands, cullies, and sweethearts,
To take the saints' and churches' parts;
Drew several gifted brethren in,
That for the bishops would have been,
And fix'd then constant to the party,
With motives powerful and hearty:

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Their husbands robb'd, and made hard shifts
T' administer unto their gifts

All they could rap, and rend, and pilfer,
To scraps and ends of gold and silver;
Rubb'd down the teachers, tir'd and spent
With holding forth for parliament;
Pamper'd and edify'd their zeal
With marrow-puddings many a meal:
Enabled them, with store of meat,

On controverted points, to eat:

And cramm'd them, till their guts did ache,
With caudle, custard, and plumb-cake.
What have they done, or what left undone,
That might advance the cause at London?
March'd rank and file, with drum and ensign,
T" intrench the city for defence in;
Rais'd rampiers with their own soft hands,
To put the enemy to stands;
From ladies down to oyster-wenches
Labour'd like pioneers in trenches,
Fall'n to their pick-axes and tools,
And help the men to dig like moles.
Have not the handmaids of the city
Chose of their members a committee,
For raising of a common purse,
Out of their wages, to raise horse?
And do they not as tryers sit,
To judge what officers are fit?
Have they"-At that an egg let fly
Hit him directly o'er the eye,
And, running down his cheek, besmear'd
With orange-tawny slime his beard;
But beard and slime being of one hue,
The wound the less appear'd in view.
Then he that on the panniers rode,
Let fly on th' other side a load,
And, quickly charg'd again, gáve fully,
In Ralpho's face, another volley.
The knight was startled with the smell,
And for his sword began to feel;

And Ralpho, smother'd with the stink,
Grasp'd his, when one that bore a link
O' th' sudden clapp'd his flaming cudgel,
Like linstock, to the horse's touch-hole;
And straight another, with his flambeau,
Gave Ralpho o'er the eyes a damn'd blow.
The beasts began to kick and fling,

And forc'd the rout to make a ring;
Through which they quickly broke their way,
And brought them off from further fray;
And, though disorder'd in retreat,
Each of them stoutly kept his seat:
For, quitting both their swords and reins,

They grasp'd with all their strength the manes;
And, to avoid the foe's pursuit,
With spurring put their cattle to 't,
And till all four were out of wind,
And danger too, ne'er look'd behind.
After they'd paus'd awhile, supplying
Their spirits, spent with fight and flying,
And Hudibras recruited force
Of lungs, for action or discourse;

Quoth he, "That man is sure to lose
That fouls his hands with dirty foes;
For where no honour 's to be gain'd,
'Tis thrown away in being maintain`d:
'Twas ill for us we had to do
With so dishonourable a foe:
For though the law of arms doth bar
The use of venom'd shot in war,
Yet by the nauseous smell, and noisome,
Their case-shot savour strong of poison,
And doubtless have been chew'd with teeth
Of some that had a stinking breath;
Else, when we put it to the push,
They had not given us such a brush:
But as those poltroons that fling dirt
Do but defile, but cannot hurt;
So all the honour they have won,
Or we have lost, is much at one.
'Twas well we made so resolute
A brave retreat, without pursuit;
For if we had not, we had sped
Much worse, to be in triumph led;
Than which the ancients held no state
Of man's life more unfortunate.
But if this bold adventure e'er
Do chance to reach the widow's ear,
It may, being destin'd to assert
Her sex's honour, reach her heart:
And as such homely treats (they say)
Portend good fortune, so this may.
Vespasian being daub'd with dirt,
Was destin'd to the empire for 't;
And from a scavenger did come
To be a mighty prince in Rome:
And why may not this foul address
Presage in love the same success?

Then let us straight, to cleanse our wounds,
Advance in quest of nearest ponds;.
And after (as we first design'd)
Swear I've perform'd what she enjoin'd."

PART II. CANTO III.

THE ARGUMENT.

The knight, with various doubts possest,
To win the lady goes in quest

Of Sidrophel, the Rosycrucian,

To know the Dest'nies' resolution;

With whom being met, they both chop logic
About the science astrologic;

Till falling from dispute to fight,
The conjurer's worsted by the knight.

DOUBTLESS the pleasure is as great
Of being cheated, as to cheat;
As lookers-on feel most delight,
That least perceive a juggler's sleight,
And, still the less they understand,
The more th' admire his sleight of hand.
Some with a noise and greasy light
Are snapt, as men catch larks by night,
Ensnar'd and hamper'd by the soul,
As nooses by the legs catch fowl.
Some with a med'cine and receipt
Are drawn to nibble at the bait;
And though it be a two-foot trout,
'Tis with a single hair pull'd out.

Others believe no voice t' an organ
So sweet as lawyer's in his bar-gown,
Until with subtle cobweb-cheats

They 're catch'd in knotted law, like nets;
In which, when once they are imbrangled,
The more they stir, the more they 're tangled;
And while their purses can dispute,
There's no end of th' immortal suit.

Others still gape t' anticipate
The cabinet designs of Fate,
Apply to wizards, to foresee

What shall, and what shall never be;
And, as those vultures do forebode,
Believe events prove bad or good;
A flam more senseless than the roguery
Of old auruspicy and augury,
That out of garbages of cattle
Presag'd th' events of truce or battle;
From flight of birds, or chicken's pecking,
Success of great'st attempts would reckon:
Though cheats, yet more intelligible,
Than those that with the stars do fribble.
This Hudibras by proof found true,
As in due time and place we'll shew:
For he, with beard and face made clean,
Being mounted on his steed again,
(And Ralpho got a cock-horse too,
Upon his beast, with much ado)
Advanc'd on for the widow's house,
T'acquit himself, and pay his vows;
When various thoughts began to bustle,
And with his inward man to justle.
He thought what danger might accrue,
If she should find he swore untrue;
Or, if his squire or he should fail,
And not be punctual in their tale,
It might at once the ruin prove
Both of his honour, faith, and love:
But if he should forbear to go,

She might conclude he 'ad broke his vow;

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