Hudibras — Part 2 — Canto 3

The Knight, with various doubts possest,To win the Lady goes in questOf Sidrophel the Rosy-crucian,To know the dest'nies' resolution:With whom b'ing met, they both chop logicAbout the science astrologic;Till falling from dispute to fight,The Conj'rer's worsted by the Knight.

OUBTLESS the pleasure is as greatOf being cheated, as to cheat;As lookers-on feel most delight,That least perceive a juggler's slight,And still the less they understand,5The more th' admire his slight 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.10Some, with a med'cine and receipt,Are drawn to nibble at the bait;

And tho' it be a two-foot trout,'Tis with a single hair pull'd out.Others believe no voice t' an organ15So 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;20And while their purses can dispute.There's no end of th' immortal suit.Others still gape t' anticipateThe cabinet designs of fate,Apply to wizards, to foresee25What shall, and what shall never be;And as those vultures do forbode,Believe events prove bad or good.A flam more senseless than the rogueryOf old aruspicy and aug'ry,30That out of garbages of cattlePresag'd th' events of truce or battle;From flight of birds, or chickens pecking,Success of great'st attempts would reckon:

Tho' cheats, yet more intelligible35Than 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,40And 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 bustle45And 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,50It might at once the ruin proveBoth of his honour, faith, and love:But if he should forbear to go,She might conclude he'd broke his vow;And that he durst not now, for shame,55Appear in court to try his claim.This was the penn'orth of his thought,To pass time, and uneasy trot.Quoth he, In all my past adventuresI ne'er was set so on the tenters,60Or taken tardy with dilemma,That ev'ry way I turn, does hem me,And with inextricable doubtBesets my puzzled wits about:For though the dame has been my bail,65To free me from enchanted jail,Yet, as a dog committed closeFor some offence, by chance breaks loose,And quits his clog; but all in vain,

He still draws after him his chain:70So tho' my ancle she has quitted,My heart continues still committed;And like a bail'd and mainpriz'd lover,Altho' at large I am bound over:And when I shall appear in court75To plead my cause, and answer for't,Unless the judge do partial prove,What will become of me and love?For if in our account we vary,Or but in circumstance miscarry:80Or if she put me to strict proof,And make me pull my doublet off,To show, by evident record,Writ on my skin, I've kept my word,How can I e'er expect to have her,85Having demurr'd unto her favour?But faith, and love, and honour lost.Shall be reduc'd t' a knight o' th' post:Beside, that stripping may preventWhat I'm to prove by argument,90And justify I have a tail.And that way, too, my proof may fail.Oh! that I could enucleate,And solve the problems of my fate;Or find, by necromantic art,95How far the dest'nies take my part;For if I were not more than certainTo win and wear her, and her fortune,

I'd go no further in this courtship,To hazard soul, estate, and worship:100For tho' an oath obliges not,Where anything is to be got,As thou hast prov'd, yet 'tis profaneAnd sinful when men swear in vain.Quoth Ralph, Not far from hence doth dwell105A cunning man, hight Sidrophel,That deals in destiny's dark counsels.And sage opinions of the moon sells,To whom all people far and near,On deep importances repair:110When brass and pewter hap to stray,And linen slinks out of the way;When geese and pullen are seduc'd,And sows of sucking pigs are chows'd;When cattle feel indisposition,115And need th' opinion of physician;When murrain reigns in hogs or sheep.And chickens languish of the pip;When yeast and outward means do fail,And have no pow'r to work on ale;120

When butter does refuse to come,And love proves cross and humoursome;To him with questions, and with urine,They for discov'ry flock, or curing.Quoth Hudibras, This Sidrophel125I've heard of, and should like it well,If thou canst prove the saints have freedomTo go to sorc'rers when they need 'em.Says Ralpho, There's no doubt of that;Those principles I've quoted late,130Prove that the godly may allegeFor anything their privilege,And to the devil himself may go.If they have motives thereunto:For as there is a war between135The devil and them, it is no sinIf they, by subtle stratagem.Make use of him, as he does them.Has not this present Parl'amentA ledger to the devil sent,140Fully empower'd to treat aboutFinding revolted witches out?And has not he, within a year,Hang'd threescore of 'em in one shire?

Some only for not being drown'd,145And some for sitting above groundWhole days and nights upon their breeches,And feeling pain, were hang'd for witches;And some for putting knavish tricksUpon green geese and turkey-chicks,150Or pigs, that suddenly deceast,Of griefs unnatural, as he guest;Who after prov'd himself a witch,And made a rod for his own breech.Did not the Devil appear to Martin 155Luther in Germany for certain?And would have gull'd him with a trick,But Mart. was too, too politic.Did he not help the Dutch to purge,At Antwerp, their cathedral church?160

Sing catches to the saints at Mascon,And tell them all they came to ask him?Appear in divers shapes to Kelly,And speak i' th' nun of Loudun's belly?Meet with the Parliament's committee,165At Woodstock, on a pers'nal treaty?At Sarum take a cavalier,I' th' Cause's service, prisoner?As Withers, in immortal rhyme,Has register'd to after-time.170

Do not our great reformers useThis Sidrophel to forebode news;To write of victories next year,And castles taken, yet i' th' air?Of battles fought at sea, and ships 175Sunk, two years hence? the last eclipse?A total o'erthrow giv'n the kingIn Cornwall, horse and foot, next spring?And has not he point-blank foretoldWhats'e'er the close committee would? 180Made Mars and Saturn for the Cause,The moon for Fundamental Laws,The Ram, the Bull, the Croat, declareAgainst the book of Common Prayer?The Scorpion take the Protestation, 185And Bear engage for Reformation?Made all the royal stars recant,Compound, and take the Covenant?Quoth Hudibras, The case is clearThe saints may employ a conjurer, 190As thou hast prov'd it by their practice;No argument like matter of fact is:And we are best of all led toMen's principles, by what they do.

Then let us straight advance in quest 195Of this profound gymnosophist,And as the fates and he advise,Pursue, or waive this enterprise.This said, he turn'd about his steed,And eftsoons on th' adventure rid; 200Where leave we him and Ralph awhile.And to the Conj'rer turn our stile,To let our reader understandWhat's useful of him beforehand.He had been long t'wards mathematics, 205Optics, philosophy, and statics,Magic, horoscopy, astrology,And was old dog at physiology:But as a dog, that turns the spit,Bestirs himself, and plies his feet 210To climb the wheel, but all in vain.His own weight brings him down again;And still he's in the self-same placeWhere at his setting out he was;So in the circle of the arts 215Did he advance his nat'ral parts.Till falling back still, for retreat,He fell to juggle, cant, and cheat:For as those fowls that live in waterAre never wet, he did but smatter; 220

Whate'er he labour'd to appear,His understanding still was clear;Yet none a deeper knowledge boasted,Since old Hodge Bacon, and Bob Grosted.Th' intelligible world he knew, 225And all men dream on't, to be true,That in this world there's not a wartThat has not there a counterpart;Nov can there, on the face of ground,An individual beard be found, 230That has not in that foreign nationA fellow of the self-same fashion;So cut, so colour'd, and so curl'd,As those are in th' inferior world.He'd read Dee's prefaces before 235The Devil, and Euclid o'er and o'er;And all th' intrigues 'twixt him and Kelly,Lescus and th' emperor, would tell ye:

But with the moon was more familiarThan e'er was almanack well-willer; 240Her secrets understood so clear,That some believ'd he had been there;Knew when she was in fittest moodFor cutting corns, or letting blood;When for anointing scabs and itches, 245Or to the bum applying leeches;When sows and bitches may be spay'd.And in what sign best cider's made;Whether the wane be, or increase,Best to set garlic, or sow pease; 250Who first found out the man i' th' moon,That to the ancients was unknown;How many dukes, and earls, and peers,Are in the planetary spheres,Their airy empire and command, 255Their sev'ral strengths by sea and land;

What factious they 've, and what they drive atIn public vogue, or what in private;Witb what designs and interestsEach party manages contests. 260He made an instrument to knowIf the moon shine at full or no;That would, as soon as e'er she shone, straightWhether 'twere day or night demonstrate;Tell what her d'ameter to 'n inch is, 265And prove that she's not made of green cheese.It would demonstrate, that the Man inThe moon's a sea mediterranean;And that it is no dog nor bitchThat stands behind him at his breech, 270But a huge Caspian sea or lake,With arms, which men for legs mistake;How large a gulph his tail composes.And what a goodly bay his nose is;How many German leagues by th' scale 275Cape snout's from promontory tail.He made a planetary gin,Which rats would run their own heads in,And come on purpose to be taken,Without th' expence of cheese or bacon; 280With lute-strings he would counterfeitMaggots, that crawl on dish of meat;Quote moles and spots on any place0' th' body, by the index face;

Detect lost maidenheads by sneezing, 285Or breaking wind of dames, or pissing;Cure warts and corns, with applicationOf med'cines to th' imagination;Fright agues into dogs, and scare,With rhymes, the tooth-ach and catarrh; 290Chase evil spirits away by dintOf sickle, horseshoe, hollow flint;Spit fire out of a walnut-shell,Which made the Roman slaves rebel;And fire a mine in China, here, 295With sympathetic gunpowder.

He knew whats'ever's to be known,But much more than he knew would own.What med'cine 'twas that ParacelsusCould make a man with, as he tells us; 300What figur'd slates are best to make,On wat'ry surface duck or drake;What bowling-stones, in running raceUpon a board, have swiftest pace;Whether a pulse beat in the black 305List of a dappled louse's back;If systole or diastole moveQuickest when he's in wrath, or love;When two of them do run a race,Whether they gallop, trot, or pace; 310How many scores a flea will jump,Of his own length, from head to rump,Which Socrates and ChærephonIn vain assay'd so long agone;Whether his snout a perfect nose is, 315And not an elephant's proboscis;

How many diff'rent speciesesOf maggots breed in rotten cheeses;And which are next of kin to thoseEngender'd in a chandler's nose; 320Or those not seen, but understood,That live in vinegar and wood.A paltry wretch he had, half starv'd,That him in place of Zany serv'd,Hight Whachum, bred to dash and draw, 325Not wine, but more unwholesome law;To make 'twixt words and lines huge gaps,Wide as meridians in maps;To squander paper and spare ink,Or cheat men of their words, some think. 330From this, by merited degrees,He'd to more high advancement rise,To be an under-conjurer,Or journeyman astrologer:His business was to pump and wheedle, 335And men with their own keys unriddle;

To make them to themselves give answers,For which they pay the necromancers;To fetch and carry intelligenceOf whom, and what, and where, and whence, 340And all discoveries disperseAmong th' whole pack of conjurers;What cut-purses have left with them,For the right owners to redeem;And what they dare not vent, find out, 345To gain themselves and th' art repute;Draw figures, schemes, and horoscopes,Of Newgate, Bridewell, brokers' shops,Of thieves ascendant in the cart,And find out all by rules of art: 350Which way a serving-man, that's runWith clothes or money 'way, is gone;Who pick'd a fob at holding-forth,And where a watch, for half the worth,May be redeem'd; or stolen plate 355Restor'd at conscionable rate.Beside all this, he serv'd his masterIn quality of poetaster,And rhymes appropriate could makeTo ev'ry month i' th' almanack; 360

When terms begin, and end, could tell,With their returns, in doggerel;When the exchequer opes and shuts,And sow-gelder with safety cuts;When men may eat and drink their fill, 365And when be temp'rate if they will;When use, and when abstain from vice,Figs, grapes, phlebotomy, and spice.And as in prison mean rogues beatHemp for the service of the great, 370So Whachum beat his dirty brainsT' advance his master's fame and gains,And like the devil's oracles,Put into dogg'rel rhymes his spells,Which, over ev'ry month's blank page 375I' th' almanack, strange bilks presage.He would an elegy composeOn maggots squeez'd out of his nose;In lyric numbers write an ode onHis mistress, eating a black-pudden; 380And, when imprison'd air escap'd her,It puft him with poetic rapture:His sonnets charm'd th' attentive crowd,By wide-mouth'd mortal troll'd aloud,That, circled with his long-ear'd guests, 385Like Orpheus look'd among the beasts:A carman's horse could not pass by,But stood ty'd up to poetry:No porter's burden pass'd along,But serv'd for burden to his song: 390

Each window like a pill'ry appears,With heads thrust thro' nailed by the ears;All trades run in as to the sightOf monsters, or their dear delightThe gallow-tree, when cutting purse 395Breeds bus'ness for heroic verse,Which none does hear, but would have hungT' have been the theme of such a song.Those two together long had liv'd,In mansion, prudently contriv'd, 400Where neither tree nor house could barThe free detection of a star;And nigh an ancient obeliskWas rais'd by him, found out by Fisk,On which was written, not in words, 405But hieroglyphic mute of birds,Many rare pithy saws, concerningThe worth of astrologic learning:Prom top of this there hung a rope,To which he fasten'd telescope; 410The spectacles with which the starsHe reads in smallest characters.It happen'd as a boy, one night,Did fly his tarsel of a kite,

The strangest long-wing'd hawk that flies, 415That, like a bird of Paradise,Or herald's martlet, has no legs,Nor hatches young ones, nor lays eggs;His train was six yards long, milk white,At th' end of which there hung a light, 420Enclos'd in lanthorn made of paper,That far off like a star did appear:This Sidrophel by chance espy'd,And with amazement staring wide:Bless us, quoth he, what dreadful wonder 425Is that appears in heaven yonder?A comet, and without a beard!Or star, that ne'er before appear'd!I'm certain 'tis not in the scrowlOf all those beasts, and fish, and fowl, 430With which, like Indian plantations,The learned stock the constellations;

Nor those that, drawn for signs, have beenTo th' houses where the planets inn.It must be supernatural, 435Unless it be that cannon-ballThat, shot i' the air, point-blank upright,Was borne to that prodigious height,That, learn'd philosophers maintain,It ne'er came backwards down again, 440But in the airy regions yetHangs, like the body o' Mahomet,For if it be above the shade,That by the earth's round bulk is made,'Tis probable it may from far, 445Appear no bullet, but a star.This said, he to his engine flew,Plac'd near at hand, in open view,And rais'd it, till it levell'd rightAgainst the glow-worm tail of kite; 450Then peeping thro', Bless us! quoth he,It is a planet now I see;And if I err not, by his properFigure, that's like tobacco-stopper,It should be Saturn: yes, 'tis clear 455'Tis Saturn; but what makes him there?He's got between the Dragon's tail,And further leg behind o' th' Whale;Pray heav'n divert the fatal omen,For 'tis a prodigy not common, 460

And can no less than the world's end,Or nature's funeral, portend.With that, he fell again to pryThro' perspective more wistfully,When, by mischance, the fatal string, 465That kept the tow'ring fowl on wing,Breaking, down fell the star. Well shot,Quoth Whachum, who right wisely thoughtHe'd levell'd at a star, and hit it;But Sidrophel, more subtle-witted, 470Cry'd out. What horrible and fearfulPortent is this, to see a star fall!It threatens nature, and the doomWill not be long before it come!When stars do fall, 'tis plain enough 475The day of judgment's not far off;As lately 'twas reveal'd to Sedgwick,And some of ns find out by magick:Then, since the time we have to liveIn this world's shorten'd, let us strive 480To make our best advantage of it,And pay our losses with our profit.This feat fell out not long beforeThe Knight, upon the forenam'd score,In quest of Sidrophel advancing, 485Was now in prospect of the mansion;

Whom he discov'ring, turu'd his glass,And found far off 'twas Hudibras.Whachum, quoth he, Look yonder, someTo try or use our art are come: 490The one's the learned Knight; seek out,And pump 'em, what they come about.Whachum advanc'd with all submiss'nessT' accost 'em, but much more their bus'ness:He held the stirrup, while the Knight 495From Leathern Bare-bones did alight;And, taking from his hand the bridle,Approach'd the dark Squire to unriddle.He gave him first the time o' th' day,And welcom'd him, as he might say: 500He ask'd him whence they came, and whitherTheir bus'ness lay?—Quoth Ralpho, Hither.Did you not lose?—Quoth Ralpho, Nay.Quoth Whachum, Sir, I meant your way?Tour Knight—Quoth Ralpho, Is a lover, 505And pains intol'rable doth suffer;For lovers' hearts are not their own hearts,Nov lights, nor lungs, and so forth downwards.What time?—Quoth Ralpho, Sir, too long,Three years it off and on has hung— 510Quoth he, I meant what time o' th' day 'tis.Quoth Ralpho, Between seven and eight 'tis.Why then, quoth Whachum, my small artTells me the Dame has a hard heart,Or great estate.—Quoth Ralph, A jointure, 515Which makes him have so hot a mind t' her.

Meanwhile the Knight was making water,Before he fell upon the matter:Which having done, the Wizard steps in,To give him a suitable reception; 520But kept his bus'ness at a bay,Till Whachum put him in the way;Who having now, by Ralpho's light,Expounded th' errand of the Knight,And what he came to know, drew near, 525To whisper in the Conj'rer's ear,Which he prevented thus: What was't,Quoth he, that I was saying last,Before these gentlemen arriv'd?Quoth Whachum, Venus you retriev'd 530In opposition with Mars,And no benign and friendly starsT' allay the effect. Quoth Wizard, So:In Virgo? Ha! quoth Whachum, No:Has Saturn nothing to do in it? 535One-tenth of's circle to a minute!'Tis well, quoth he—Sir, you'll excuseThis rudeness I am forc'd to use;It is a scheme, and face of heavenAs th' aspects are dispos'd this even, 540I was contemplating uponWhen you arriv'd; but now I've done.Quoth Hudibras, if I appearUnseasonable in coming hereAt such a time, to interrupt 545Your speculations, which I hop'dAssistance from, and come to use,'Tis fit that I ask your excuse.

By no means, Sir, quoth Sidrophel,The stars your coming did foretell; 550I did expect you here, and knew,Before you spake, your business too.Quoth Hudibras, Make that appear,And I shall credit whatsoe'erYou tell me after, on your word, 555Howe'er unlikely, or absurd.You are in love, Sir, with a widow,Quoth he, that does not greatly heed you,And for three years has rid your witAnd passion, without drawing bit; 560And now your business is to knowIf you shall carry her or no.Quoth Hudibras, You're in the right,But how the devil you come by'tI can't imagine; for the stars, 565I'm sure, can tell no more than a horse:Nor can their aspects, tho' you poreYour eyes out on 'em, tell you moreThan th' oracle of sieve and sheers,That turns as certain as the spheres; 570But if the Devil's of your counsel,Much may be done, my noble donzel;

And 'tis on his account I come,To know from you my fatal doom.Quoth Sidrophel, If you suppose, 575Sir Knight, that I am one of those,I might suspect, and take the alarm,Your business is but to inform:But if it be, 'tis ne'er the near,You have a wrong sow by the ear; 580For I assure you, for my part,I only deal by rules of art;Such as are lawful, and judge byConclusions of astrology;But for the Devil, know nothing by him, 585But only this, that I defy him.Quoth he, Whatever others deem ye,I understand your metonymy;Your words of second-hand intention,When things by wrongful names you mention; 590The mystic sense of all your terms,That are indeed but magic charmsTo raise the Devil, and mean one thing,And that is downright conjuring;And in itself more warrantable 595Than cheat or canting to a rabble,

Or putting tricks upon the moon,Which by confed'racy are done.Your ancient conjurers were wontTo make her from her sphere dismount, 600And to their incantations stoop!They scorn'd to pore thro' telescope,Or idly play at bo-peep with her,To find out cloudy or fair weather,Which every almanack can tell, 605Perhaps as learnedly and wellAs you yourself—Then, friend I doubtYou go the furthest way about:Your modest Indian MagicianMakes but a hole in th' earth to piss in, 610And straight resolves all questions by't,And seldom fails to be i' th' right.The Rosy-crucian way's more sureTo bring the Devil to the lure;Each of 'em has a sev'ral gin, 615To catch intelligences in.Some by the nose, with fumes, trepan 'em,As Dunstan did the Devil's grannam.

Others with characters and wordsCatch 'em, as men in nets do birds; 620And some with symbols, signs, and tricks,Engrav'd in planetary nicks,With their own influences will fetch 'emDown from their orbs, arrest, and catch 'em;Make 'em depose, and answer to 625All questions, ere they let them go.Bombastus kept a devil's birdShut in the pummel of his sword,That taught him all the cunning pranksOf past and future mountebanks. 630Kelly did all his feats uponThe Devil's looking-glass, a stone,Where, playing with him at bo-peep,He solv'd all problems ne'er so deep.

Agrippa kept a Stygian pug, 635I' th' garb and habit of a dog,That was his tutor, and the curRead to th' occult philosopher,And taught him subt'ly to maintainAll other sciences are vain. 640To this, quoth Sidrophello, Sir,Agrippa was no conjurer,Nor Paracelsus, no, nor Behmen;Nor was the dog a caco-dæmon,But a true dog that would show tricks 645For th' emperor, and leap o'er sticks;Would fetch and carry, was more civilThan other dogs, but yet no devil;And whatsoe'er he's said to do,He went the self-same way we go. 650As for the Rosy-cross philosophers,Whom you will have to be but sorcerers,What they pretend to is no moreThan Trismegistus did before,

Pythagoras, old Zoroaster, 655And Apollonius their master,To whom they do confess they oweAll that they do, and all they know.Quoth Hudibras,—Alas, what is't t' usWhether 'twere said by Trismegistus, 660If it be nonsense, false, or mystick,Or not intelligible, or sophistick?'Tis not antiquity, nor author,That makes Truth truth, altho' Time's daughter;'Twas he that put her in the pit, 665Before he pull'd her out of it;

And as he eats his sons, just soHe feeds upon his daughters too.Nor does it follow, 'cause a heraldCan make a gentleman, scarce a year old, 670To be descended of a raceOf ancient kings in a small space,That we should all opinions holdAuthentic, that we can make old.Quoth Sidrophel, It is no part 675Of prudence to cry down an art,And what it may perform, deny,Because you understand not why;As Averrhoes play'd but a mean trick.To damn our whole art for eccentrick, 680For who knows all that knowledge contains?Men dwell not on the tops of mountains,But on their sides, or rising's seat;So 'tis with knowledge's vast height.Do not the hist'ries of all ages 685Relate miraculous presagesOf strange turns in the world's affairs,Foreseen b' astrologers, soothsayers,Chaldeans, learn'd Grenethliacks,And some that have writ almanacks? 690

The Median emp'ror dream'd his daughterHad pist all Asia under water,And that a vine, sprung from her haunches,O'erspread his empire with its branches;And did not soothsayers expound it, 695As after by th' event he found it?When Cæsar in the senate fell,Did not the sun eclips'd foretell;And in resentment of his slaughter,Look'd pale for almost a year after? 700Augustus having, b' oversight,Put on his left shoe 'fore his right,Had like to have been slain that day,By soldiers mutin'ing for pay.Are there not myriads of this sort, 705Which stories of all times report?Is it not ominous in all countries,When crows and ravens croak upon trees?The Roman senate, when withinThe city walls an owl was seen, 710Did cause their clergy, with lustrations,Our Synod calls Humiliations,

The round-fac'd prodigy t' avertFrom doing town or country hurt.And if an owl have so much pow'r, 715Why should not planets have much more,That in a region far aboveInferior fowls of the air move,And should see further, and foreknowMore than their augury below? 720Tho' that once serv'd the polityOf mighty states to govern by;And this is what we take in hand,By pow'rful art, to understand;Which, how we have perform'd, all ages 725Can speak th' events of our presages.Have we not lately in the moonFound a new world, to th' old unknown?Discover'd sea and land, ColumbusAnd Magellan could never compass? 730Made mountains with our tubes appear,And cattle grazing on them, there?Quoth Hudibras, You lie so ope,That I, without a telescope,Can find your tricks out, and descry 735Where you tell truth and where you lie:For Anaxagoras, long agone,Saw hills, as well as you, i' th' moon,

And held the sun was but a pieceOf red-hot iron as big as Greece; 740Believ'd the heav'ns were made of stone,Because the sun had voided one;And, rather than lie would recantTh' opinion, suffer'd banishment.But what, alas! is it to us, 745Whether i' th' moon, men thus or thusDo eat their porridge, cut their corns,Or whether they have tails or horns?What trade from thence can you advance,But what we nearer have from France? 750What can our travellers bring home,That is not to be learnt at Rome?What politics, or strange opinions,That are not in our own dominions?What science can be brought from thence, 755In which we do not here commence?What revelations, or religions,That are not in our native regions?Are sweating-lanterns, or screen-fans,Made better there than they're in France? 760Or do they teach to sing and play,O' th' guitar there a newer way?Can they make plays there, that shall fitThe public humour with less wit?

Write wittier dances, quainter shows, 765Or fight with more ingenious blows?Or does the man i' th' moon look big,And wear a huger periwig,Show in his gait or face more tricks,Than our own native lunaticks? 770But, if w' outdo him here at home,What good of your design can come?As wind, i' th' hypocondres pent,Is but a blast, if downward sent;But if it upward chance to fly, 775Becomes new light and prophecy;So when our speculations tendAbove their just and useful end,Altho' they promise strange and greatDiscoveries of things far fet, 780

They are but idle dreams and fancies,And savour strongly of the ganzas.Tell me but what's the natural cause,Why on a sign no painter drawsThe full moon ever, but the half;— 785Resolve that with your Jacob's staff;Or why wolves raise a hubbub at her,And dogs howl when she shines in water;And I shall freely give my vote,You may know something more remote. 790At this, deep Sidrophel look'd wise,And staring round with owl-like eyes,He put his face into a postureOf sapience, and began to bluster;For having three times shook his head 795To stir his wit up, thus he said:Art has no mortal enemies,Next ignorance, but owls and geese:Those consecrated geese, in orders,That to the Capitol were warders, 800And being then upon patrol,With noise alone beat off the Gaul;Or those Athenian sceptic owls,That will not credit their own souls,

Or any science understand, 805Beyond the reach of eye or hand;But measuring all things by their ownKnowledge, hold nothing's to be known:Those wholesale critics, that in coffee-Houses cry down all philosophy, 810And will not know upon what groundIn nature we our doctrine found,Altho' with pregnant evidenceWe can demonstrate it to sense,As I just now have done to you, 815Foretelling what you came to know.Were the stars only made to lightRobbers and burglarers by night?To wait on drunkards, thieves, gold-finders,And lovers solacing behind doors? 820Or giving one another pledgesOf matrimony under hedges?Or witches simpling, and on gibbetsCutting from malefactors snippets?Or from the pill'ry tips of ears 825Of rebel-saints and perjurers?Only to stand by, and look on,But not know what is said or done?Is there a constellation thereThat was not born and bred up here; 830And therefore cannot be to learnIn any inferior concern?

Were they not, during all their lives,Most of 'em pirates, whores, and thieves?And is it like they have not still 835In their old practices some skill?Is there a planet that by birthDoes not derive its house from earth;And therefore probably must knowWhat is, and hath been done below? 840Who made the Balance, or whence cameThe Bull, the Lion, and the Ram?Did not we here the Argo rig,Make Berenice's periwig?Whose liv'ry does the Coachman wear? 845Or who made Cassiopeia's chair?And therefore, as they came from hence,With us may hold intelligence.Plato deny'd the world can beGovern'd without geometry, 850For money b'ing the common scaleOf things by measure, weight, and tale,In all th' affairs of church and state,'Tis both the balance and the weight:Then much less can it be without 855Divine astrology made out,That puts the other down in worth,As far as heaven's above earth.These reasons, quoth the Knight, I grantAre something more significant 860Than any that the learned useUpon this subject to produce;

And yet they're far from satisfactory,T' establish and keep up your factory.Th' Egyptians say, the sun has twice 865Shifted his setting and his rise ;Twice has he risen in the west,As many times set in the east ;But whether that be true or no,The devil any of you know. 870Some hold, the heavens, like a top,Are kept by circulation up,And were't not for their wheeling round.They'd instantly fall to the ground :As sage Empedocles of old, 875And from him modern authors hold.Plato believ'd the sun and moonBelow all other planets run.Some Mercury, some Venus seatAbove the sun himself in height. 880

The learned Scaliger complain'd'Gainst what Copernicus maintain'd,That in twelve hundred years, and odd,The sun had left his ancient road,And nearer to the Earth is come, 885'Bove fifty thousand miles from home:Swore 'twas a most notorious flam,And he that had so little shameTo vent such fopperies abroad,Deserv'd to have his rump well claw'd: 890Which Monsieur Bodin hearing, sworeThat he deserv'd the rod much more,That durst upon a truth give doom,He knew less than the pope of Rome.Cardan believ'd great states depend 895Upon the tip o' th' Bear's tail's end;That as she whisk'd it t'wards the sun,Strow'd mighty empires up and down;

Which others say must needs be false,Because your true bears have no tails. 900Some say, the zodiac constellationsHave long since chang'd their antique stationsAbove a sign, and prove the sameIn Taurus now, once in the Ram;Affirm'd the Trigons chopp'd and chang'd, 905The wat'ry with the fiery rang'd;Then how can their effects still holdTo be the same they were of old?This, though the art were true, would makeOur modern soothsayers mistake, 910And is one cause they tell more lies,In figures and nativities,Than th' old Chaldean conjurers,In so many hundred thousand years;Beside their nonsense in translating, 915For want of accidence and Latin;

Like Idus and Calendæ EnglishtThe Quarter-days, by skilful linguist.And yet with canting, slight, and cheat,'Twill serve their turn to do the feat; 920Make fools believe in their foreseeingOf things before they are in being;To swallow gudgeons ere they're catch'd,And count their chickens ere they're hatch'd,Make them the constellations prompt, 925And give 'em back their own accompt;But still the best to him that givesThe best price for't, or best believes.Some towns and cities, some for brevity,Have cast the 'versal world's nativity, 930And made the infant stars confess,Like fools or children, what they please.Some calculate the hidden fatesOf monkeys, puppy-dogs, and cats;Some running nags, and fighting-cocks, 935Some love, trade, law-suits, and the pox:Some take a measure of the livesOf fathers, mothers, husbands, wives;Make opposition, trine, and quartile,Tell who is barren, and who fertile; 940As if the planet's first aspectThe tender infant did infect

In soul and body, and instilAll future good and future ill;Which in their dark fatal'ties lurking, 945At destin'd periods fall a working,And break out, like the hidden seedsOf long diseases, into deeds,In friendships, enmities, and strife,And all th' emergencies of life: 950No sooner does he peep intoThe world, but he has done his do,Catch'd all diseases, took all physick,That cures or kills a man that is sick;Marry'd his punctual dose of wives, 955Is cuckolded, and breaks, or thrives.There's but the twinkling of a starBetween a man of peace and war;A thief and justice, fool and knave,A huffing off'cer and a slave; 960A crafty lawyer and pick-pocket,A great philosopher and a blockhead;A formal preacher and a player,A learn'd physician and man-slayer:As if men from the stars did suck 965Old age, diseases, and ill luck,Wit, folly, honour, virtue, vice,Trade, travel, women, claps, and dice;And draw, with the first air they breathe,Battle, and murder, sudden death. 970Are not these fine commoditiesTo be imported from the skies,

And vended here among the rabble,For staple goods, and warrantable?Like money by the Druids borrow'd, 975In th' other world to be restored.Quoth Sidrophel, To let you knowYou wrong the art and artists too:Since arguments are lost on thoseThat do our principles oppose, 980I will, altho' I've don't before.Demonstrate to your sense once more,And draw a figure that shall tell youWhat you, perhaps, forget befell you;By way of horary inspection, 985Which some account our worst erection.With that, he circles draws, and squares,With cyphers, astral characters,Then looks 'em o'er to understand 'em,Altho' set down hab-nab at random. 990Quoth he. This scheme of th' heavens set,Discovers how in fight you met,At Kingston, with a may-pole idol,And that y' were bang'd both back and side well;

And tho' you overcame the bear, 995The dogs beat you at Brentford fair;Where sturdy butchers broke your noddle,And handled you like a fop-doodle.Quoth Hudibras, I now perceiveYou are no conj'rer, by your leave; 1000That paltry story is untrue,And forg'd to cheat such gulls as you.Not true? quoth he; howe'er you vapour,I can what I affirm make appear;Whachum shall justify 't to your face, 1005And prove he was upon the place:He play'd the saltinbancho's part,Transform'd t' a Frenchman by my art;He stole your cloak, and pick'd your pocket,Chous'd and caldes'd you like a blockhead, 1010And what you lost I can produce,If you deny it, here i' the house.Quoth Hudibras, I do believeThat argument's demonstrative;Ralpho, bear witness, and go fetch us 1015A constable to seize the wretches:For tho' they're both false knaves and cheats,Impostors, jugglers, counterfeits,I'll make them serve for perpendic'lars,As true as e'er were us'd by bricklayers: 1020They're guilty, by their own confessions.Of felony, and at the sessions,Upon the bench I will so handle 'em,That the vibration of this pendulum

Shall make all tailors yards of one 1025Unanimous opinion:A thing he long has vapour'd of,But now shall make it out by proof.Quoth Sidrophel, I do not doubtTo find friends that will bear me out: 1030Nor have I hazarded my art,And neck, so long on the State's part,To be expos'd i' th' end to sufferBy such a braggadocio huffer.Huffer! quoth Hudibras, this sword 1035Shall down thy false throat cram that word.Ralpho, make haste, and call an officer,To apprehend this Stygian sophister;Meanwhile I'll hold 'em at a bay.Lest he and Whachum run away. 1040

But Sidrophel, who from the aspectOf Hudibras, did now erectA figure worse portending far,Than that of most malignant star;Believ'd it now the fittest moment 1045To shun the danger that might come on't,While Hudibras was all alone,And he and Whachum, two to one:This being resolv'd, he spy'd by chance,Behind the door an iron lance, 1050That many a sturdy limb had gor'd,And legs, and loins, and shoulders bor'd;He snatch'd it up, and made a pass,To make his way thro' Hudibras.Whachum had got a fire-fork, 1055With which he vow'd to do his work;But Hudibras was well prepar'd.And stoutly stood upon his guard:He put by Sidrophello's thrust,And in right manfully he rusht, 1060The weapon from his gripe he wrung.And laid him on the earth along.Whachum his sea-coal prong threw by,And basely turn'd his back to fly;But Hudibras gave him a twitch 1065As quick as lightning in the breech.Just in the place where honour's lodg'd,As wise philosophers have judg'd;Because a kick in that part moreHurts honour, than deep wounds before. 1070Quoth Hudibras, The stars determineYou are my prisoners, base vermin.Could they not tell you so, as wellAs what I came to know, foretell?

By this, what cheats you are, we find, 1075That in your own concerns are blind.Your lives are now at my dispose,To be redeem'd by fine or blows:But who his honour would defile,To take, or sell, two lives so vile? 1080I'll give you quarter; but your pillage,The conqu'ring warrior's crop and tillage.Which with his sword he reaps and plows,That's mine, the law of arms allows.This said in haste, in haste he fell 1085To rummaging of Sidrophel.First, he expounded both his pockets.And found a watch with rings and lockets,Which had been left with him t'erectA figure for and so detect. 1090A copper-plate with almanacksEngrav'd upon't, with other knacksOf Booker's, Lilly's, Sarah Jimmers',And blank schemes to discover nimmers;A moon-dial, with Napier's bones, 1095And sev'ral constellation stones,

Engrav'd in planetary hours,That over mortals had strange powersTo make them thrive in law or trade,And stab or poison to evade; 1100In wit or wisdom to improve,And be victorious in love.Whachum had neither cross nor pile,His plunder was not worth the while;All which the conqu'ror did discompt, 1105To pay for curing of his rump.But Sidrophel, as full of tricksAs Rota-men of politics,Straight cast about to over-reachTh' unwary conqu'ror with a fetch, 1110And make him glad at least to quitHis victory, and fly the pit,Before the secular prince of darknessArriv'd to seize upon his carcass:And, as a fox with hot pursuit, 1115Chas'd through a warren, cast aboutTo save his credit, and amongDead vermin on a gallows hung.

And while the dogs ran underneath,Escap'd, by counterfeiting death, 1120Not out of cunning, but a trainOf atoms justling in his brain,As learn'd philosophers give out;So Sidrophello cast about.And fell to 's wonted trade again, 1125To feign himself in earnest slain:First stretch'd out one leg, then another,And, seeming in his breast to smotherA broken sigh, quoth he, Where am I?Alive, or dead? or which way came I 1130Thro' 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 thro' and thro' had drill'd, 1135And 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 thro': 1140And there lies Whachum by my side,Stone dead and in his own blood dy'd,Oh! oh! With that he fetch'd a groan,And fell again into a swoon;Shut both his eyes, and stopt his breath, 1145And to the life out-acted death,That Hudibras, to all appearing,Believ'd him to be dead as herring.

He held it now no longer safe,To tarry the return of Ralph, 1150But rather leave him in the lurch:Thought he, he has abus'd our church,Refused to give himself one firk,To carry on the Public work;Despis'd our Synod-men like dirt, 1115And made their Discipline his sport;Divulg'd the secrets of their Classes,And their Conventions prov'd high places;Disparag'd their tithe-pigs, as pagan,And set at nought their cheese and bacon; 1160Rail'd at their Covenant, and jeer'dTheir rev'rend parsons, to my beard;For all which scandals, to be quitAt once, this juncture falls out fit.I'll make him henceforth to beware, 1165And tempt my fury, if he dare:He must, at least, hold up his hand,By twelve freeholders to be scann'd;Who by their skill in palmistry,Will quickly read his destiny, 1170And make him glad to read his lesson,Or take a turn for't at the session:Unless his Light and Gifts prove truerThan ever yet they did, I'm sure;For if he 'scape with whipping now, 1175'Tis more than he can hope to do:

And that will disengage my conscienceOf th' obligation, in his own sense:I'll make him now by force abide,What he by gentle means deny'd, 1180To give my honour satisfaction,And right the brethren in the action.This being resolv'd, with equal speedAnd conduct, he approach'd his steed,And with activity unwont, 1185Essay'd the lofty beast to mount;Which once atchiev'd, he spurr'd his palfry,To get from th' enemy and Ralph free;Left dangers, fears, and foes behind,And beat, at least three lengths, the wind. 1190