Imágenes de páginas

If it be nonsense, false, or mystic,

Made mountains with our tubes appcar, Or not intelligible, or sophistic?

And cattle grazing on them there?” 'Tis not antiquity, nor author,

Quoth Iludibras, “ You lie so ope, That makes truth Truth, although Time's daughter; That I, without a telescope, 'Twas he that put her in the pit,

Can find your tricks out, and descry Before he pull'd her out of it;

Where you tell truth, and where you lie: And as he eats his sons, just so

For Anaxagoras, long agone, He feeds upon his daughters too.

Saw hiils, as well as you, i' th’ Moon, Nor does it follow, 'cause a herald

And held the Sun was but a piece Can make a gentleman, scarce a year old, Of red-hot iron as big as Greece; To be descended of a race

Believ'd the Heavens were made of stone, Of ancient kings in a small space,

Because the Sun had voided one; That we should all opinions hold

And, rather than he would recant Authentic, that we can make old.”

Th' opinion, suffer'd banishment. Quoth Sidrophel, “ It is no part

“ But what, alas! is it to us, Of prudence to cry down an art,

Whether i' th' Moon men thus or thus And what it may perform deny,

Do eat their porridge, cut their corns, Because you understand not why;

Or whether they have tails or horns ? (As Averrhois play'd but a mean trick,

What trade from thence can you advance, To damn our whole art for eccentric)

But what we nearer have from France ? For who knows all that knowledge contains ? What can our travellers bring home, Men dwell not on the tops of mountains,

That is not to be learnt at Rome? But on their sides, or risings, seat;

What politics, or strange opinions, So 'tis with knowledge's rast height.

That are not in our own dominions ? Do not the histories of all ages

What science can be brought from thence, Relate miraculous presages

In which we do not here commence ? Of strange turns, in the world's affairs,

What revelations, or religions, Foreseen by' astrologers, soothsayers,

That are not in our native regions ? Chaldeans, learn'd Genethliacs,

Are sweating lanterns, or screen-fans, And some that have writ almanacs?

Made better there than they 're in France ? The Median emperor dreamt his daughter

Or do they teach to sing and play Had pist all Asia under water,

O'th' guitar there a newer way? And that a vine, sprung from her haunches, Can they make plays there, that shall fit O'erspread his empire with its branches;

The public humour with less wit? And did not soothsayers expound it,

Write wittier dances, quainter shows, As after by th' event he found it?

Or fight with more ingenious blows? When Cæsar in the senate fell,

Or does the man i'th' Moon look big, Did not the Sun eclips'd foretel,

And wear a huger periwig? And, in resentment of his slaughter,

Show in his gait, or face, more tricks Look'd pale for almost a year after?

Than our own native lunatics? Augustus having, by' oversight,

But if w' outdo him here at home, Put on his left shoe 'fore his right,

What good of your design can come? Had like to have been slain that day,

As wind, i'th' hypocondres pent, By soldiers mutin'ing for pay.

Is but a blast if downward sent, Are there not myriads of this sort,

But if it upward chance to fly, Which stories of all times report?

Becomes new-light and prophecy, Is it not ominous in all countries,

So when your speculations tend When crows and ravens croak upon trees?

Above their just and useful end, The Roman senate, when within

Although they promise strange and great The city walls an owl was seen,

Discoveries of things far fet, Did cause their clergy, with lustrations,

They are but idle dreams and fancies, (Our synod calls humiliations)

And savour strongly of the ganzas. The round-fac'd prodigy tavert

Tell me but what's the natural cause, From doing town or country hurt.

Why on a sign no painter draws And if an owl have so much power,

The full Moon ever, but the half? Why should not planets have much more,

Resolve that with your Jacob's staff; That in a region far above

Or why wolves raise a hubbub at her, Inferior fowls of the air move,

And dogs howl when she shines in water ? And should see further, and foreknow

And I shall freely give my vote, More than their augury below ?

You may know something more remote." Though that once serv'd the polity

At this deep Sidrophel look'd wise, Of mighty states to govern by;

And, staring round with owl-like eyes, And this is what we take in hand

He put his face into a posture Ry powerful Art to understand;

Of sapience, and began to bluster; Which, how we have perform'd, all ages

For, having three times shook his head Can speak th' events of our presages.

To stir his wit up, thus he said: Have we not lately, in the Moon,

Art has no mortal enemies Found a new world, to th' old anknown?

Next Ignorance, but owls and geese; Discover'd sea and land, Columbus

Those cousecrated geese in orders, And Magellan could never compass?

That to the Capitol were warders,

And being then upon patrol,

Some hold the Heavens, like a top, With noise alone beat off the Gaul;

Are kept by circulation up, Or those Athenian sceptic owls,

And, were 't not for their wheeling round, That will not credit their own souls,

They 'd instantly fall to the ground; Or any science understand,

As sage Empedocles of old, Beyond the reach of eye or hand,

And from him modern authors, hold. But, measuring all things by their own

Plato believ'd the Sun and Moon Knowledge, hold nothing 's to be known;

Below all other planets run. Those wholesale critics, that in coffee

Some Mercury, some Venus, seat Houses cry down all philosophy,

Above the Sun himself in height. And will not know upon what ground

The learned Scaliger complain'd In Nature we our doctrine found,

'Gainst what Copernicus maintain'd, Although with pregnant evidence

That, in twelve hundred years and odd, We can demonstrate it to sense,

The Sun had left its ancient road, As I just now have done to you,

And nearer to the Earth is come, Foretelling what you came to know.

'Bove fifty thousand miles from home; Were the stars only made to light

Swore 'twas a most notorious flam, Robbers and burglarers by night?

And he that had so little shame To wait on drunkards, thieves, gold-finders, To vent such fopperies abroad, And lovers solacing behind doors,

Deserv'd to have his rump well claw'd; Or giving one another pledges

Which monsieur Bodin hearing, swore Of matrimony under hedges ?

That he desery'd the rod much more, Or witches simpling, and on gibbets

That durst upon a truth give doom, Cutting from malefactors snippets?

He knew less than the pope of Rome. Or from the pillory tips of ears

Cardan believ'd great states depend Of rebel-saints and perjurers ?

Upon the tip o’th’ Bear's-tail's end, Only to stand by, and look on,

That, as she whisk'd it towards the Sun, But not know what is said or done?

Strow'd mighty empires up and down ; Is there a constellation there,

Which others say must needs be false, That was not born and bred up here;

Because your true bears have no tails. And therefore cannot be to learn

Some say the Zodiac constellations In any inferior concern?

Have long since chang'd their antique stations Were they not, during all their lives,

Above a sign, and prove the same Most of them pirates, whores, and thieves ? In Taurus now, once in the Ram; And is it like they have not still

Affirm'd the Trigons chopp'd and chang'd, In their old practices some skill?

The watery with the fiery rang'd; Is there a planet that by birth

Then how can their effects still hold Does not derive its house from Earth;

To be the same they were of old ? And therefore probably must know

This, though the art were true, would make What is and hath been done below?

Our modern soothsayers mistake; Who inade the Balance, or whence came

And is ove cause they tell more lies, The Bull, the Lion, and the Ram?

In figures and nativities, Did not we here the Argo rig,

Than th' old Chaldean conjurers, Make Berenice's periwig?

In so many hundred thousand years; Whose livery does the Coachman wear?

Beside their ponsense in translating, Or who made Cassiopeia's chair?

For want of Accidence and Latin, And therefore, as they came from hence,

Like Idas, and Calendæ, Englisht With us may hold intelligence.

The quarter-days, by skilful linguist ; Plato deuy'd the world can be

And yet, with canting, sleight, and cheat, Governd without geometry,

'Twill serve their turn to do the feat; (For money being the common scale

Make fools believe in their foreseeing Of things, by measure, weight, and tale,

Of things before they are in being ; In all th' affairs of church and state,

To swallow gudgeons ere they 're catch'd, "Tis both the balance and the weight)

And count their chickens ere they 're hatch'd; Then much less can it be without

Make them the constellations prompt, Divine Astrology made out;

And give them back their own accompt ; That puts the other down in worth,

But still the best to him that gives As far as Heaven 's above the Earth.”

The best price for 't, or best believes. “ These reasons," quoth the knight, “ I grant Some towns, some cities, some, for brevity, Are something more significant

Have cast the versal world's nativity, Than any that the learned use

And made the infant-stars confess, Upon this subject to produce:

Like fools or children, what they please. And yet they 're far from satifactory,

Some calculate the hidden fates Testablish and keep up your factory.

Of monkeys, puppy-dogs, and cats; Th’Egyptians say, the Sun bas twice

Some running-nags, and fighting-cocks; Shifted his setting and his rise;

Some love, trade, law-suits, and the pox : Twice bas he risen in the west,

Some take a measure of the lives As many times set in the east;

Of fathers, mothers, husbands, wives; But whether that be true or no,

Make opposition, trine, and quartile, The Devil any of you know.

Tell who is barren and who fertile;

As if the planets' first aspect

And what you lost I can produce, The tender infant did infect

If you deny it, here i' th house." In soul and body, and instil

Quoth Hudibras, “ I do believe; All future good and future ill;

That argument's demonstrative ; Which in their dark fatal'ties lurking,

Ralpho, bear witness, and go fetch us At destin'd periods fall a-working,

A constable to seize the wretches; And break out, like the hidden seeds

For though they 're both false knaves and cheats, Of long diseases, into deeds,

Impostors, jugglers, counterfeits, In friendships, enmities, and strife,

I'll make them serve for perpendiculars, And all th' emergencies of life:

As true as e'er were us'd by bricklayers. No sooner does he peep into

They're guilty, by their own confessions, The world, but he has done his do,

Of felony; and at the sessions, Catch'd all diseases, took all physic,

Upon the bench, I will so handle them, That cures or kills a man that is sick:

That the vibration of this pendulum Marry'd his punctual dose of wives,

Shall make all tailor's yards of one Is cuckolded, and breaks, or thrives.

Unanimous opinion ; There 's but the twinkling of a star

A thing he long has vapour'd of, Between a man of peace and war;

But now shall make it out by proof." A thief and justice, fool and knare,

Quoth Sidrophel, “ I do not doubt A buffing officer and a slave;

To find friends that will bear me out; A crafty lawyer and pick-pocket,

Nor have I hazarded my art, A great philosopher and a blockhead;

And neck, so long on the state's part, A formal preacher and a player,

To be expos'd, i'th' end, to suffer A learn'd physician and manslayer:

By such a braggadocio huffer.” As if men from the stars did suck

“ Huffer !”' quoth Hudibras, “ this sword Old-age, diseases, and ill-luck,

Shall down thy false throat cram that word. Wit, folly, honour, virtue, vice,

Ralpho, make haste, and call an officer, Trade, travel, women, claps, and dice,

To apprehend this Stygian sophister; And draw, with the first air they breathe,

Meanwhile I 'll hold them at a bay, Battle and murder, sudden death.

Lest he and Whachum run away.” Are not these fine commodities

But Sidrophel, who, from th' aspect To be imported from the skies,

Of Hudibras, did now erect And vended here among the rabble,

A figure worse portending far For staple goods and warrantable ?

Than that of most malignant star, Like money by the Druids borrow'd,

Believ'd it now the fittest moment In th other world to be restored."

To shun the danger that might come on 't, Quoth Sidrophel, “ To let you know

While Iludibras was all alone, You wrong the art, and artists too,

And he and Whachum, two to one. Since arguments are lost on those

This being resolv'd, he spy'd, by chance, That do our principles oppose,

Behind the door, an iron lance, I will (although I've done 't before)

That many a sturdy limb had gor'd, Demonstrate to your sense once more,

And legs, and loins, and shoulders bor'd; And draw a figure that shall tell you

He snatch'd it up, and made a pass, What you, perhaps, forget befell you,

To make his way through Hudibras. By way of horary inspection,

Whachum had got a fire-fork, Which some account our worst erection."

With which he vow'd to do his work; With that he circles draws, and squares,

But Hudibras was well prepar'd, With cyphers, astral characters,

And stoutly stood upon bis guard : Then looks them o'er to understand them,

He put by Sidrophello's thrust, Although set down hab-nab, at random.

And in right manfully he rusht; Quoth he, “ This scheme of th' Heavens sct, The weapon from his gripe he wrung, Discovers how in fight you met,

And laid him on the earth along. At Kingston, with a May-pole idol,

Whachum his sea-coal prong threw by, # And that y' were bang'd both back and side well; And basely turn'd his back to fly; And, though you overcame the bear,

But Hudibras gave him a twitch, The dogs beat you at Brentford fair;

As quick as lightning, in the breech, Where sturdy butchers broke your noddle, Just in the place where Honour 's lodg'd, And handled you like a fop-doodle.”

As wise philosophers have judg'd, Quoth Hudibras, I now perceive

Because a kick in that place more You are no conjurer, by your leave:

Hurts Honour, than deep wounds before. That paltry story is untrne,

Quoth Hudibras, “ The stars deterinine And forg'd to cheat such gulls as you."

You are my prisoners, base vermin: “Not true!" quoth he; “ howe'er you vapour, Could they not tell you so, as well I can what I affirin make appear;

As what I came to know foretel? Whachum shall justify it t' your face,

By this what cheats you are we find, And prove he was upon the place:

That in your own concerns are blind. He play'd the saltinbancho's part, .

Your lives are now at my dispose, Transform'd t'a Frenchman by my art;

To be redeem'd by fine or blows : He stole your cloak, and pick'd your pocket, But who his honour would defile, Chows'd and caldes'd ye like a blockhead;

To take, or sell, two lives so vile?

I'll give you quarter ; but your pillage,

And there lies Whachum by my side The conquering warrior's crop and tillage,

Stone dead, and in his own blood dy'd. Which with his sword he reaps and ploughs, Oh! oh !”--With that he fetch'd a groan, That's mine, the law of arms allows."

And fell again into a swoon, This said in haste, in haste he fell

Shut both his eyes, and stopt his breath, To rummaging of Sidrophel.

And to the life out-acted death, First he expounded both his pockets,

That Hudibras, to all appearing, And found a watch, with rings and lockets, Believ'd him to be dead as herring. Which had been left with him t' erect

He held it now no longer sate A figure for, and so detect;

To tarry the return of Ralph, A copper-plate, with almanacs

But rather leave him in the lurch : Engrav'd upon 't, with other knacks

Thought he, “ He has abus'd our church, Of Booker's, Lilly's, Sarah Jimmers''),

Refus'd to give himself one firk And blank-schemes to discover nimmers;

To carry on the public work; A moon-dial, with Napier's bones,

Despis'd our synod-men like dirt, And several constellation stones,

And made their discipline his sport; Engrav'd in planetary hours,

Divulg'd the secrets of their classes, That over mortals had strange powers

And their conventions prov'd high-places; To make them thrive in law or trade,

Disparag'd their tythe-pigs, as pagan, And stab or poison to evade;

And set at nought their cheese and bacon; In wit or wisdom to improve,

Rail'd at their covenant, and jeerd And be victorious in love.

Their reverend parsons, to my beard ; Whachum had neither cross nor pile,

For all which scandals to be quit His plunder was not worth the while;

At once, this juncture falls out fit. All which the conqueror did discompt,

I'll make him henceforth 10 beware, To pay for curing of his rump.

And tempt my fury if he dare: But Sidrophel, as full of tricks

He must at least hold up his hand, As Rota-men of politics,

By twelve freeholders to be scann'd, Straight cast about to over-reach

Who, by their skill in palmistry, Th’unwary conqueror with a fetch,

Will quickly read his destiny, And make him glad, at least, to quit

And make him glad to read his lesson, His victory, and fly the pit,

Or take a turn for 't at the session, Before the secular prince of darkness

Unless his light and gifts prove truer Arriv'd to seize upon his carcass :

Than ever yet they did, I'm sure; And as a fox, with hot pursuit

For if he 'scape with whipping now, Chas'd through a warren, casts about

'Tis more than he can hope to do; To save his credit, and among

And that will disengage my conscience Dead vermin on a gallows hung,

Of th' obligation, in his own sense : And while the dogs run underneath,

I'll make bim now by force abide Escap'd (by counterfeiting death)

What he by gentle means deny d, Not out of cunning, but a train

To give my honour satisfaction, Of atoms justling in his brain,

And right the brethren in the action." As learn'd philosophers give out;

This being resolv’d, with equal speed So Sidrophello cast about,

And conduct he approach'd his steed, And fell to 's wonted trade again,

And, with activity unwont, To feign himself in earnest slain :

Assay'd the lofty beast to mount; First stretch'd out one leg, then another,

Which once achiev'd, he spurr'd his palfry, And, seeming in his breast to smother

To get from th' enemy and Ralph free; A broken sigh ; quoth he, “ Where am I?

Left danger, fears, and foes behind,
Alive, or dead? or which way came I

And beat, at least three lengths, the wind.
Through so immense a space so soon ?
But now I thought myself i' th’ Moon,
And that a monster, with huge whiskers,
More formidable than a Switzer's,
My body through and through had drillid,

And Whachum by my side had kill'd;
Had cross-examin'd both our hose,
And plunder'd all we had to lose:

Look, there he is! I see him now,
And feel the place I am run through:

Ecce iterum Crispinus.......

Well, Sidrophel, though 'tis in vain 12 John Booker was born in Manchester, and was To tamper with your crazy brain, a famous astrologer in the time of the Civil wars. He was a great acquaintance of Lilly's; and so This Epistle was published ten years after the was this Sarah Jimmers, whom Lilly calls Sarah Third Canto of this Second Part, to which it is not Shelhorn, a great speculatrix. He owns he was annesed, namely, in the year 1074; and is ad, very familiar with her (quod nota ;) so that it is in a key to a burlesque poein of Mr. Butier's, pube no wonder that the knight found several of their lished 1706, p. 13, to have been occasioned by si knick-knacks in Sidrophel's cabinet.

Paul Neal, a conceited virtuoso, and member of


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Without trepanning of your skull,

Ugriddle all that mankind knows As often as the Moon's at full,

With solid bending of your brows; 'Tis not amiss, ere ye 're giv'n o'er,

All arts and sciences advance, To try one desp’rate med'cine more;

With screwing of your countenance, For, where your case can be no worse,

And with a penetrating eye The desperat'st is the wisest course.

Into th' abstrusest learning pry; Is 't possible that you, whose ears

Know more of any trade b’a hint, Are of the tribe of Issachar's,

Than those that have been bred up in 't, And might (with equal reason) either

And yet have no art, true or false, For merit, or extent of leather,

To help your own bad naturals ? With William Pryn's, before they were

But still, the more you strive t'appear, Retrench'd and crucify'd, compare,

Are found to be the wretcheder: Should yet be deaf against a noise

For fools are known by looking wise, So roaring as the public voice?

As men find woodcocks by their eyes, That speaks your virtues free and loud,

Hence 'tis, that 'cause ye 'ave gain'd o'th' college And openly in every crowd,

A quarter share (at most) of knowledge, As loud as one that sings his part

And brought in none, but spent repute, l' a wheel-barrow or turnip-cart,

Y'assume a power as absolute Or your new nick'd-nam'd old invention

To judge, and censure, and controul, To cry green-hastings with an engine;

As if you were the sole sir Poll, (As if the vehemence had stunn'd,

And saucily pretend to know
And torn your drum-heads with the sound) More than your dividend comes to:
And, 'cause your folly's now no news,

You 'll find the thing will not be done
But overgrown, and out of use,

With ignorance and face alone: Persuade yourself there's no such matter,

No, though ye 've purchas'd to your name, But that 'tis vanish'd out of Nature;

In history, so great a fame; When Folly, as it grows in years,

That now your talent 's so well known The more extra vagant appears ;

For having all belief outgrown, For who but you could be possest

That every strange prodigious tale With so much ignorance and beast,

Is measur'd by your German scaleThat neither all men's scorn and hate,

By which the virtuosi try Nor being langh'd and pointed at,

The magnitude of every lie,
Nor bray'd so often in a mortar,

Cast up to what it does amount,
Can teach you wholesome sense and nurture; And place the bigg'st to your account;
But (like a reprobate) what course

That all those stories, that are laid
Soever us'd, grow worse and worse?

Too truly to you, and those made, Can no transfusion of the blood,

Are now still charg'd upon your score, That makes fools cattle, do you good ?

And lesser authors nam'd no more. Nor putting pigs t' a bitch to nurse,

Alas! that faculty betrays To turn them into mongrel-curs,

Those soonest it designs to raise ; Put you into a way, at least,

And all your vain renown will spoil, To make yourself a better beast?

As guns o'ercharg'd the more recoil; Can all your critical intrigues,

Though he, that has but impudence, Of trying sound from rotten eggs,

To all things has a fair pretence; Your several new-found remedies,

And, put among his wants but shame, Of curing wounds and scəbs in trees,

To all the world may lay his claim: Your arts of fluxing them for claps,

Though you have try'd that nothing 's borne And purging their infected saps,

With greater ease than public scorn, Recovering shankers, crystallines,

That all affronts do still give place And nodes and botches in their rinds,

To your impenetrable face; Have no effect to operate

That makes your way through all affairs, Upon that duller block, your pate?

As pigs through hedges creep with theirs : But still it must be lewdly bent

Yet, as 'tis counterfeit and brass, To tempt your own due punishment;

You must not think 'twill always pass; And, like your whimsy'd chariots, draw

For all impostors, when they 're known, The boys to coarse you without law;

Are past all labour, and undone : As if the art you have so long

And all the best that can befall Profess'd, of making old dogs young,

An artificial natural, In you had virtue to renew

Is that which madmen find, as soon Not only youth, but childhood too.

As once they 're broke loose from the Moon, Can you, that understand all books,

And, proof against her influence, By judging only with your looks,

Relapse to e'er so little sense, Resolve all problems with your face,

To turn stark fools, and subjects fit As others do with B's and A's;

For sport of boys and rabble-wit. the Royal Society, who constantly affirmed that discovery of an elephant in the Moon, which, upon Mr. Butler was not the author of Hudibras, which examination, proved to be no other than a mouse, gave rise to this epistle ; and by some he has been which had mistaken its way, and got into his tels taken for the real Sidrophel of the poem. This scope. was the gentleman who, it is said, made a great VOL VIII.


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