PART III. CANTO I.

THE ARGUMENT.

The knight and squire resolve at once,
The one the other to renounce;
They both approach the lady's bower,
The squire t' inform, the knight to woo her.
She treats them with a masquerade,
By Furies and Hobgoblins made;

From which the squire conveys the knight,
And steals him from himself by night.

'Tis true, no lover has that power
Tenforce a desperate amour,

As he that has two strings t' his bow,
And burns for love and money too;
For then he's brave and resolute,
Disdains to render in his suit;
Has all his flames and raptures double,

And hangs, or drowns, with half the trouble;
While those, who sillily pursue
The simple downright way, and true,
Make as unlucky applications,

And steer against the stream their passions.
Some forge their mistresses of stars,
And, when the ladies prove averse,
And more untoward to be won
Than by Caligula the Moon,
Cry out upon the stars for doing
Ill offices, to cross their wooing,

When only by themselves they 're hindered,
For trusting those they made her kindred,
And still, the harsher and hide-bounder
The damsels prove, become the fonder;
For what mad lover ever dy'd
To gain a soft and gentle bride?
Or for a lady tender-hearted,

In purling streams or hemp departed?
Leap'd headlong int' Elysium,

Through th' windows of a dazzling room?
But for some cross ill-natur'd dame,
The amorous fly burnt in his flame.
This to the knight could be no news,
With all mankind so much in use,
Who therefore took the wiser course,
To make the most of his amours,
Resolv'd to try all sorts of ways,
As follows in due time and place.

No sooner was the bloody fight
Between the wizard and the knight,

With all th' appurtenances, over,
But he relaps'd again t' a lover,
As he was always wont to do,
When he 'ad discomfited a foe,
And us'd the only antique philters
Deriv'd from old heroic tilters.
But now, triumphant and victorious,
He held th' achievement was too glorious
For such a conqueror, to meddle
With petty constable or beadle,

Or fly for refuge to the hostess

Of th' inns of court and chancery, Justice;
Who might, perhaps, reduce his cause
To th' ordeal trial of the laws,

Where none escape, but such as, branded
With red-hot irons, have past bare-handed;
And if they cannot read one verse

I' th' Psalms, must sing it, and that's worse.
He, therefore, judging it below him

To tempt a shame the Devil might owe him,
Resolv'd to leave the squire for bail
And mainprize for him to the gaol,
To answer, with his vessel, all
That might disastrously befall,
And thought it now the fittest juncture
To give the lady a rencounter,
T'acquaint her with his expedition,
And conquest o'er the fierce magician;
Describe the manner of the fray,
And show the spoils he brought away;
His bloody scourging aggravate,
The number of the blows, and weight;
All which might probably succeed,
And gain belief he 'ad done the deed:
Which he resolv'd to enforce, and spare
No pawning of his soul to swear;
But, rather than produce his back,
To set his conscience on the rack:
And, in pursuance of his urging
Of articles perform'd, and scourging,
And all things else, upon his part,
Demand delivery of her heart,
Her goods and chattles, and good graces,
And person, up to his embraces.
Thought he, "The ancient errant knights
Won all their ladies' hearts in fights,
And cut whole giants into fritters,
To put them into amorous twitters;
Whose stubborn bowels scorn'd to yield,
Until their gallants were half kill'd;

But when their bones were drubb'd so sore,
They durst not woo one combat more,
The ladies' hearts began to melt,
Subdued by blows their lovers felt.

So Spanish heroes, with their lances,
At once wound bulls, and ladies' fancies;
And he acquires the noblest spouse
That widows greatest herds of cows;
Then what may I expect to do,
Who 've quell'd so vast a buffalo?"
Meanwhile the squire was on his way,
The knight's late orders to obey;
Who sent him for a strong detachment
Of beadles, constables, and watchmen,
T'attack the cunning-man, for plunder
Committed falsely on his lumber;
When he, who had so lately sack'd
The enemy, had done the fact,
Had rifled all his pokes and fobs

Of gimcracks, whims, and jiggumbobs,
Which he by hook or crook had gather'd,
And for his own inventions father'd;
And when they should, at gaol-delivery,
Unriddle one another's thievery,
Both might have evidence enough
To render neither halter-proof:
He thought it desperate to tarry,
And venture to be accessary;
But rather wisely slip his fetters,

And leave them for the knight, his betters.
He call'd to mind th' unjust foul play
He would have offer'd him that day,
To make him curry his own hide,
Which no beast ever did beside,
Without all possible evasion,
But of the riding dispensation:
And therefore, much about the hour
The knight (for reasons told before)
Resolv'd to leave him to the fury
Of Justice and an unpack'd jury,
The squire concurr'd t' abandon him,
And serve him in the self-same trim;
T'acquaint the lady what he 'ad done,
And what he meant to carry on;
What project 'twas he went about,
When Sidrophel and he fell out;
His firm and stedfast resolution,
To swear her to an execution;
To pawn his inward ears to marry her,
And bribe the Devil himself to carry her;
In which both dealt, as if they meant
Their party-saints to represent,
Who never fail'd, upon their sharing
In any prosperous arms-bearing,
To lay themselves out to supplant
Fach other cousin-german saint.
But ere the knight could do his part,
The squire had got so much the start,
He 'ad to the lady done his errand,
And told her all his tricks aforehand.
Just as he finish'd his report,
The knight alighted in the court,
And, having ty'd his beast t' a pale,
And taking time for both to stale,
He put his band and beard in order,
The sprucer to accost and board her:
And now began t' approach the door,
When she, wh' had spy'd him out before,
Convey'd th' informer out of sight,
And went to entertain the knight;
With whom encountering, after longees
Of humble and submissive congees,
And all due ceremonies paid,

He stroak'd his beard, and thus he said:

"Madam, I do, as is my duty,
Honour the shadow of your shoe-tie;
And now am come to bring your ear
A present, you'll be glad to hear;
At least I hope so: the thing 's done,
Or may I never see the Sun;
For which I humbly now demand
Performance at your gentle hand;
And that you 'd please to do your part,
As I have done mine, to my smart."

With that he shrugg'd his sturdy back,
As if he felt his shoulders ache:
But she, who well enough knew what
(Before he spoke) he would be at,
Pretended not to apprehend

The mystery of what he mean'd;
And therefore wish'd him to expound
His dark expressions less profound.
"Madam," quoth he, "I come to prove
How much I've suffer'd for your love,
Which (like your votary) to win,
I have not spar'd my tatter'd skin;
And, for those meritorious lashes,
To claim your favour and good graces."
Quoth she, "I do remember once

I freed you from th' enchanted sconce,
And that you promis'd, for that favour,
To bind your back to th' good behaviour,
And for my sake and service vow'd,
To lay upon 't a heavy load.
And what 'twould bear t' a scruple prove,
As other knights do oft make love;
Which whether you have done or no
Concerns yourself, not me, to know;
But if you have, I shall confess
Y are honester than I could guess."
Quoth he," If you suspect my troth,
I cannot prove it but by oath;
And if you make a question on 't,
I'll pawn my soul that I have done 't,
And he that makes his soul his surety,
I think, does give the best security."
Quoth she, "Some say the soul 's secure
Against distress and forfeiture;
Is free from action, and exempt
From execution and contempt;
And to be summon'd to appear
In th' other world 's illegal here;
And therefore few make any account
Int' what encumbrances they run 't:
For most men carry things so even,
Between this world, and Hell, and Heaven,
Without the least offence to either,
They freely deal in all together,
And equally abhor to quit
This world for both, or both for it;
And when they pawn and damn their souls,
They are but prisoners on paroles."

"For that," quoth he, "tis rational
They may be accountable in all :
For when there is that intercourse
Between divine and human powers,
That all that we determine here
Commands obedience every where;
When penalties may be commuted
For fines, or ears, and executed;
It follows, nothing binds so fast
As souls in pawn and mortgage past:
For oaths are th' only tests and seals
Of right and wrong, and true and false;

And there's no other way to try The doubts of Law and Justice by."

Quoth she, "What is it you would swear? There's no believing till I hear: For, till they're understood, all tales (Like nonsense) are not true nor false."

Quoth he, "When I resolv'd t' obey
What you commanded th' other day,
And to perform my exercise,

(As schools are wont) for your fair eyes,
T' avoid all scruples in the case,
I went to do 't upon the place;
But as the castle is enchanted

By Sidrophel the witch, and haunted
With evil spirits, as you know,
Who took my squire and me for two, 1
Before I 'ad hardly time to lay
My weapons by, and disarray,
I heard a formidable noise,
Loud as the Stentrophonic voice,
That roar'd far off,
I'm ready with th' infernal whip,
That shall divest thy ribs of skin,

Dispatch, and strip,

To expiate thy lingering sin;

Thou 'ast broke perfidiously thy oath,
And not perform'd thy plighted troth,
But spar'd thy renegado back,

Where thou 'adst so great a prize at stake;
Which now the Fates have order'd me,
For penance and revenge, to flea,
Unless thou presently make haste;
Time is, time was:' and there it ceast.
With which, though startled, I confess,
Yet th' horrour of the thing was less
Than th' other dismal apprehension
Of interruption or prevention;
And therefore, snatching up the rod,
I laid upon my back a load,
Resolv'd to spare no flesh and blood,
To make my word and honour good;
Till tir'd, and taking truce at length,
For new recruits of breath and strength,
I felt the blows still ply'd as fast,
As if they 'ad been by lovers plac'd,
In raptures of Platonic lashing,
And chaste contemplative bardashing;
When, facing hastily about,

To stand upon my guard and scout,
I found th' infernal cunning-man,
And th' under-witch, his Caliban,
With scourges (like the Furies) arm'd,
That on my outward quarters storm'd.
In haste I snatch'd my weapon up,
And gave their hellish rage a stop;
Call'd thrice upon your name, and fell
Courageously on Sidrophel,

Who now, transform'd himself t' a bear,
Began to roar aloud and tear;
When I as furiously press'd on,
My weapon down his throat to run,
Laid hold on him, but he broke loose,
And turn'd himself into a goose,
Div'd under water in a pond,
To hide himself from being found.
In vain I sought him; but as soon
As I perceiv'd him fled and gone,
Prepar'd, with equal haste and rage,
His under-sorcerer to engage;
But, bravely scorning to defile
My sword with feeble blood, and vile,

I judg'd it better from a quick-
Set hedge to cut a knotted stick,
With which I furiously laid on,
Till in a harsh and doleful tone
It roar'd, O hold, for pity, sir;
I am too great a sufferer,
Abus'd, as you have been, b' a witch,
But conjur'd int' a worse caprich,
Who sends me out on many a jaunt,
Old houses in the night to haunt,
For opportunities t' improve
Designs of thievery or love;

With drugs convey'd in drink or meat,
All feats of witches counterfeit,
Kill pigs and geese with powder'd glass,
And make it for enchantment pass;
With cow-itch meazle like a leper,
And choke with fumes of Guiney pepper;
Make lechers, and their punks, with dewtry,
Commit fantastical advowtry;

Bewitch Hermetic-men to run
Stark staring mad with manicon;

Believe mechanic virtuosi

Can raise them mountains in Potosi ;

And, sillier than the antic fools,

Take treasure for a heap of coals;
Seek out for plants with signatures,
To quack off universal cures ;
With figures, ground on panes of glass,
Make people on their heads to pass;
And mighty heaps of coin increase,
Reflected from a single piece;

To draw in fools, whose natural itches
Incline perpetually to witches,
And keep me in continual fears,
And danger of my neck and ears;
When less delinquents have been scourg'd,
And hemp on wooden anvils forg'd,
Which others for cravats have worn
About their necks, and took a turn.'
"I pity'd the sad punishment
The wretched caitiff underwent,
And held my drubbing of his bones
Too great an honour for poltrones;
For knights are bound to feel no blows
From paltry and unequal foes,

Who, when they slash, and cut to pieces,
Do all with civilest addresses:
Their horses never give a blow,
But when they make a leg and bow.

I therefore spar'd his flesh, and prest him
About the witch with many a question.

"Quoth he,For many years he drove
A kind of broking trade in love,
Employ'd in all th' intrigues and trust
Of feeble speculative Lust;
Procurer to th' extravagancy
And crazy ribaldry of Fancy,
By those the Devil had forsook,
As things below him, to provoke;
But being a virtuoso, able

To smatter, quack, and cant, and dabble,
He held his talent most adroit,
For any mystical exploit,

As others of his tribe had done,
And rais'd their prices three to one;
For one predicting pimp has th' odds
Of chaldrons of plain downright bawds.
But, as an elf (the Devil's valet)
Is not so slight a thing to get;

For those that do his business best,
In Hell are us'd the ruggedest;
Before so meriting a person
Could get a grant, but in reversion,

He serv'd two 'prenticeships, and longer,
I' th' mystery of a lady-monger:
For (as some write) a witch's ghost,
As soon as from the body loost,
Becomes a puiney imp itself,
And is another witch's elf:

He, after searching far and near,
At length found one in Lancashire,
With whom he bargain'd before hand,
And, after hanging, entertain'd:

Since which he 'as play'd a thousand feats,
And practis'd all mechanic cheats;
Transform'd himself to th' ugly shapes
Of wolves, and bears, baboons, and apes,
Which he has vary'd more than witches,
Or Pharaoh's wizards, could their switches;
And all with whom he 'as had to do,
Turn'd to as monstrous figures too:
Witness myself, whom he 'as abus'd,
And to this beastly shape reduc'd,
By feeding me on beans and pease
He crams in nasty crevices,
And turns to comfits by his arts,
To make me relish for deserts,
And one by one, with shame and fear,
Lick up the candy'd provender.
Beside-" But as h' was running on,
To tell what other feats he 'ad done,
The lady stopt his full career,
And told him now 'twas time to hear.
"If half those things," said she, be true
"They 're all," quoth he, "I swear by you."
"Why then," said she, "that Sidrophel
Has damn'd himself to th' pit of Hell;
Who, mounted on a broom, the nag
And hackney of a Lapland hag,
In quest of you came hither post,
Within an hour (I'm sure) at most,
Who told me all you swear and say,
Quite contrary another way;
Vow'd that you came to him, to know
If you should carry me or no,
And would have hir'd him and his imps
To be your match-makers and pimps,
T engage the Devil on your side,
And steal (like Proserpine) your bride;
But he disdaining to embrace
So filthy a design and base,
You fell to vapouring and huffing,
And drew upon him like a ruffian;
Surpris'd him meanly, unprepar'd,
Before he 'ad time to mount his guard,
And left him dead upon the ground,
With many a bruise and desperate wound;
Swore you had broke and robb'd his house,
And stole his talismanique louse,
And all his new-found old inventions,
With flat felonious intentions,

Which he could bring out where he had,
And what he bought them for, and paid:
His flea, his morpion, and punese,
He 'ad gotten for his proper ease,
And all in perfect minutes made,
By th' ablest artist of the trade,
Which (he could prove it) since he lost,
He has been eaten up almost ;

And altogether might amount
To many hundreds on account;
For which he 'ad got sufficient warrant
To seize the malefactors errant,
Without capacity of bail,

But of a cart's or horse's tail;

And did not doubt to bring the wretches
To serve for pendulums to watches,
Which, modern virtuosi say,
Incline to hanging every way.

Beside, he swore, and swore 'twas true,
That, ere he went in quest of you,

He set a figure to discover

If you were fled to Rye or Dover,
And found it clear, that, to betray
Yourselves and me, you fled this way,
And that he was upon pursuit,
To take you somewhere hereabout.
He vow'd he had intelligence

Of all that pass'd before and since,
And found, that, ere you came to him,
Y' had been engaging life and limb
About a case of tender conscience,
Where both abounded in your own sense,
Till Ralpho, by his light and grace,
Had clear'd all scruples in the case,

And prov'd, that you might swear and own
Whatever 's by the wicked done;
For which, most basely to requite
The service of his gifts and light,
You strove t'oblige him, by main force,
To scourge his ribs instead of your's,
But that he stood upon his guard,
And all your vapouring outdar'd;
For which, between you both, the feat
Has never been perform'd as yet."

While thus the lady talk'd, the knight
Turn'd th' outside of his eyes to white;
(As men of inward light are wont
To turn their optics in upon 't)
He wonder'd how she came to know
What he had done, and meant to do;
Held up his affidavit-hand,
As if he 'ad been to be arraign'd;
Cast towards the door a ghastly look,
In dread of Sidrophel, and spoke :

"Madam, if but one word be true
Of all the wizard has told you,
Or but one single circumstance
In all th' apocryphal romance,
May dreadful earthquakes swallow down
This vessel, that is all your own!
Or may the Heavens fall, and cover
These relics of your constant lover!"
"You have provided well," quoth she,
"(I thank you) for yourself and me,
And shown your presbyterian wits
Jump punctual with the Jesuits;
A most compendious way, and civil,
At once to cheat the world, the Devil,
And Heaven and Hell, yourselves, and those
On whom you vainly think t' impose."
"Why then," quoth he, " may Hell surprise”—
"That trick," said she, "will not pass twice:
I've learn'd how far I'm to believe
Your pinning oaths upon your sleeve;
But there's a better way of clearing

What you would prove, than downright swearing;
For, if you have perform'd the feat,
The blows are visible as yet,

Enough to serve for satisfaction
Of nicest scruples in the action;
And if you can produce those knobs,
Although they 're but the witch's drubs,
I'll pass them all upon account,
As if your natural self had don't;
Provided that they pass th' opinion
Of able juries of old women,

Who, us'd to judge all matter of facts
For bellies, may do so for backs."

"Madam," quoth he, "your love's a million,

To do is less than to be willing,

As I am, were it in my power,

Tobey what you command, and more;
But for performing what you bid,
I thank you as much as if I did.

You know I ought to have a care,
To keep my wounds from taking air;
For wounds in those that are all heart,
Are dangerous in any part."

"I find," quoth she, "my goods and chattles Are like to prove but mere drawn battles; For still the longer we contend,

We are but further off the end;
But granting now we should agree,
What is it you expect from me?"

"Your plighted faith," quoth he, "and word
You past in Heaven on record,

Where all contracts, to have and t' hold,
Are everlastingly enroll'd;

And if 'tis counted treason here

To raze records, 'tis much more there."

Quoth she, "There are no bargains driven,

Nor marriages clapp'd up, in Heaven,

And that's the reason, as some guess,
There is no heaven in marriages;
Two things that naturally press
Too narrowly, to be at ease;
Their business there is only love,

Which marriage is not like t' improve;
Love, that 's too generous t' abide
To be against its nature ty'd;
For, where 'tis of itself inclin'd,
It breaks loose when it is confin'd,
And like the soul, its harbourer,
Debarr'd the freedom of the air,
Disdains against its will to stay,
But struggles out, and flies away:
And therefore never can comply
T' endure the matrimonial tie,
That binds the female and the male,
Where th' one is but the other's bail;
Like Roman gaolers, when they slept,
Chain'd to the prisoners they kept,
Of which the true and faithfullest lover
Gives best security to suffer.
Marriage is but a beast, some say,
That carries double in foul way,
And therefore 'tis not to b' admir'd

It should so suddenly be tir'd;

A bargain, at a venture made,

Between two partners in a trade,

(For what 's inferr'd by t' have and t' hold,
But something past away, and sold?)
That, as it makes but one of two,
Reduces all things else as low,
And at the best is but a mart
Between the one and th' other part,
That on the marriage-day is paid,
Or hour of death, the bet is laid;

And all the rest of better or worse,
Both are but losers out of purse:

For when upon their ungot heirs

Th' entail themselves, and all that 's theirs,
What blinder bargain e'er was driven,
Or wager laid at six and seven?

To pass themselves away, and turn
Their children's tenants ere they're born?
Beg one another idiot

To guardians, ere they are begot;
Or ever shall, perhaps, by th' one
Who's bound to vouch them for his own,
Though got b' implicit generation,
And general club of all the nation;
For which she 's fortify'd no less
Than all the island, with four seas ;
Exacts the tribute of her dower,
In ready insolence and power,
And makes him pass away, to have
And hold, to her, himself, her slave,
More wretched than an ancient villain,
Condemn'd to drudgery and tilling;
While all he does upon the by,
She is not bound to justify,
Nor at her proper cost and charge
Maintain the feats he does at large.
Such hideous sots were those obedient
Old vassals to their ladies regent,
To give the cheats the eldest hand
In foul play by the laws o' th' land;
For which so many a legal cuckold

Has been run down in courts, and truckled:
A law that most unjustly yokes

All Johns of Stiles to Joans of Noakes,
Without distinction of degree,
Condition, age, or quality;
Admits no power of revocation,
Nor valuable consideration,

Nor writ of errour, nor reverse

Of judgment past, for better or worse;

Will not allow the privileges

That beggars challenge under hedges,

Who, when they 're griev'd, can make dead horses
Their spiritual judges of divorces,

While nothing else but rem in re
Can set the proudest wretches free;
A slavery beyond enduring,
But that 'tis of their own procuring.
As spiders never seek the fly,
But leave him, of himself, t' apply;
So men are by themselves employ'd,
To quit the freedom they enjoy'd,
And run their necks into a noose,
They'd break them after to break loose.
As some, whom Death would not depart,
Have done the feat themselves by art,
Like Indian widows, gone to bed,
In flaming curtains, to the dead;
And men as often dangled for 't,
And yet will.never leave the sport.
Nor do the ladies want excuse
For all the stratagems they use,
To gain th' advantage of the set,

And lurch the amorous rook and cheat.

For, as the Pythagorean soul

Runs through all beasts, and fish, and fowl,

And has a smack of every one,

So love does, and has ever done;

And therefore, though 'tis ne'er so fond,

Takes strangely to the vagabond.