Hudibras — Part 2 — Canto 2

The Knight and Squire in hot dispute,Within an ace of falling out,Are parted with a sudden frightOf strange alarm, and stranger sight;With which adventuring to stickle,They're sent away in nasty pickle.

'IS strange how some men's tempers suit,Like bawd and brandy, with dispute,That for their own opinions stand fast.Only to have them claw'd and canvast.That keep their consciences in cases,5As fiddlers do their crowds and bases,Ne'er to be us'd but when they're bentTo play a fit for argument.Make true and false, unjust and just.Of no use but to be discust; 10Dispute and set a paradox,Like a straight boot, upon the stocks,And stretch if more unmercifully,Than Helmont, Montaigne, White, or Tully.

So th' ancient Stoics in the Porch,15With fierce dispute maintain'd their church,Beat out their brains in fight and study,To prove that virtue is a body;That bonum is an animal,Made good with stout polemic brawl;20In which some hundreds on the placeWere slain outright, and many a faceRetrench'd of nose, and eyes, and beard,To maintain what their sect averr'd.All which the Knight and Squire in wrath, 25Had like t' have suffer'd for their faith;Each striving to make good his own,As by the sequel shall be shown.The sun had long since, in the lapOf Thetis, taken out his nap, 30And like a lobster boil'd, the mornFrom black to red began to turn;

When Hudibras, whom thoughts and aching'Twixt sleeping kept all night and waking,Began to rouse his drowsy eyes,35And from his couch prepar'd to rise;Resolving to despatch the deedHe vow'd to do with trusty speed:But first, with knocking loud and bawling,He rous'd the Squire, in truckle lolling; 40And after many circumstances,Which vulgar authors in romancesDo use to spend their time and wits on,To make impertinent description,They got, with much ado, to horse,45And to the castle bent their course,In which he to the dame beforeTo suffer whipping-duty swore:Where now arriv'd, and half unharnest,To carry on the work in earnest,50He stopp'd and paus'd upon the sudden,And with a serious forehead plodding,Sprung a new scruple in his head,Which first he scratch'd, and after said;Whether it be direct infringing55An oath, if I should wave this swingeing,And what I've sworn to bear, forbear,And so b' equivocation swear;

Or whether 't be a lesser sinTo be forsworn, than act the thing,60Are deep and subtle points, which must,T' inform my conscience, be discust;In which to err a tittle mayTo errors infinite make way:And therefore I desire to know65Thy judgment, ere we further go.Quoth Ralpho, Since you do injoin't,I shall enlarge upon the point;And, for my own part, do not doubtTh' affirmative may be made out.70But first, to state the case aright,For best advantage of our light;And thus 'tis, whether 't be a sin,To claw and curry our own skin,Greater or less than to forbear.75And that you are forsworn forswear.But first, o' th' first: The inward man,And outward, like a clan and clan.Have always been at daggers-drawing,And one another clapper-clawing:80Not that they really cuff or fence.But in a spiritual mystic sense;Which to mistake, and make them squabble,In literal fray's abominable;'Tis heathenish, in frequent use,85With Pagans and apostate Jews,To offer sacrifice of bridewells,Like modern Indians to their idols;

And mongrel Christian of our times,That expiate less with greater crimes, 90And call the foul abomination,Contrition and Mortification.Is't not enough we're bruis'd and kickedWith sinful members of the wicked;Our vessels, that are sanctify'd, 95Profan'd and curry'd back and side;But we must claw ourselves with shamefulAnd heathen stripes, by their example?Which, were there nothing to forbid it,Is impious, because they did it: 100This therefore may be justly reckon'dA heinous sin. Now to the second;That Saints may claim a dispensationTo swear and forswear on occasion,I doubt not but it will appear 105With pregnant light: the point is clear.Oaths are but words, and words but wind,Too feeble implements to bind;And hold with deeds proportion, soAs shadows to a substance do. 110Then when they strive for place, 'tis fitThe weaker vessel should submit.Although your church be oppositeTo ours, as Black Friars are to White,In rule and order, yet I grant 115You are a reformado saint;And what the saints do claim as due,You may pretend a title to:

But saints, whom oaths or vows oblige,Know little of their privilege; 120Further, I mean, than carrying onSome self-advantage of their own:For if the devil, to serve his turn,Can tell truth; why the saints should scorn,When it serves theirs, to swear and lie, 125I think there's little reason why:Else h' has a greater power than they,Which 'twere impiety to say,We're not commanded to forbear,Indefinitely, at all to swear;130But to swear idly, and in vain,Without self-interest or gain.For breaking of an oath and lying,Is but a kind of self-denying,A saint-like virtue; and from hence 135Some have broke oaths by Providence.Some, to the glory of the Lord,Perjur'd themselves, and broke their word:And this the constant rule and practiceOf all our late apostles' acts is.140Was not the Cause at first begunWith perjury, and carried on?Was there an oath the godly took,But in due time and place they broke?

Did we not bring our oaths in first,145Before our plate, to have them burst.And cast in litter models, forThe present use of church and war?Did not our worthies of the House,Before they broke the peace, break vows?150For having freed us first from bothTh' Alleg'ance and Suprem'cy oath,Did they not next compel the nationTo take, and break the Protestation?To swear, and after to recant, 155The Solemn League and Covenant?To take th' Engagement, and disclaim it.Enforc'd by those who first did frame it?

Did they not swear, at first, to fightFor the king's safety and his right? 160And after march'd to find him out,And charg'd him home with horse and foot?And yet still had the confidenceTo swear it was in his defence?Did they not swear to live and die165With Essex, and straight laid him by?If that were all, for some have sworeAs false as they, if th' did no more.Did they not swear to maintain law,In which that swearing made a flaw?170For Protestant religion vow,That did that vowing disallow?For privilege of Parliament.In which that swearing made a rent?And since, of all the three, not one 175Is left in being, 'tis well known.Did they not swear, in express words,To prop and back the House of Lords?And after turn'd out the whole house-fullOf peers, as dang'rous and unuseful.180So Cromwell, with deep oaths and vows,Swore all the Commons out o' th' House;

Vow'd that the red-coats would disband,Ay, marry wou'd they, at their command;And troll'd them on, and swore and swore,185Till th' army turn'd them out of door.This tells us plainly what they thought,That oaths and swearing go for nought;And that by them th' were only meantTo serve for an expedient.190What was the Public Faith found out for,But to slur men of what they fought for?The Public Faith, which ev'ry oneIs bound t' observe, yet kept by none;And if that go for nothing, why195Should private faith have such a tie?Oaths were not purpos'd, more than law,To keep the good and just in awe,

But to confine the bad and sinful,Like mortal cattle in a pinfold. 200A saint's of th' heav'nly realm a peer;And as no peer is bound to swear,But on the gospel of his honour,Of which he may dispose as owner,It follows, tho' the thing be forgery205And false th' affirm, it is no perjury,But a mere ceremony, and a breachOf nothing, but a form of speech,And goes for no more when 'tis tookThan mere saluting of the book.210Suppose the Scriptures are of force,They're but commissions of course,And saints have freedom to digress,But vary from 'em as they please;Or misinterpret them by private215Instructions, to all aims they drive at.Then why should we ourselves abridge,And curtail our own privilege?Quakers, that like to lanthorns, bearTheir light within them, will not swear;220Their gospel is an accidence,By which they construe conscience,And hold no sin so deeply redAs that of breaking Priscian's head,

The head and founder of their order,225That stirring hats held worse than murder;These thinking they're oblig'd to trothIn swearing, will not take an oath;Like mules, who if they've not the willTo keep their own pace, stand stock still; 230But they are weak, and little knowWhat free-born consciences may do.'Tis the temptation of the devilThat makes all human actions evil:For saints may do the same thing by235The spirit, in sincerity,Which other men are tempted to,And at the devil's instance do;And yet the actions be contrary,Just as the saints and wicked vary.240For as on land there is no beastBut in some fish at sea's exprest;So in the wicked there's no vice,Of which the saints have not a spice;And yet that thing that's pious in245The one, in th' other is a sin.

Is't not ridiculous, and nonsense,A saint should be a slave to conscience?That ought to be above such fancies,As far as above ordinances?250She's of the wicked, as I guess,B' her looks, her language, and her dress:And tho', like constables, we searchFor false wares one another's church;Yet all of us hold this for true,255No faith is to the wicked due.For truth is precious and divine,Too rich a pearl for carnal swine.Quoth Hudibras, All this is true,Yet 'tis not fit that all men knew260Those mysteries and revelations:And therefore topical evasionsOf subtle turns, and shifts of sense.Serve best with th' wicked for pretence;Such as the learned Jesuits use,265And Presbyterians, for excuse

Against the Protestants, when th' happenTo find their churches taken napping.As thus: a breach of oath is duple,And either way admits a scruple,270And may be, ex parte of the maker,More criminal than the 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 forc'd it, broke it,275Not 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.280What's justice to a man, or laws,That never comes within their claws?They have no pow'r, but to admonish;Cannot control, coerce, or punish,Until they're broken, and then touch285Those 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.290The Rabbins write, when any JewDid make to God or man a vow,Which afterwards he found untoward,And stubborn to be kept, or too hard;Any three other Jews o' th' nation295Might free him from the obligation:

And have not two saints power to useA greater privilege than three Jews?The court of conscience, which in manShould be supreme and sovereign,300Is't fit should be subordinateTo ev'ry petty court i' th' state,And have less power than the lesser,To deal with perjury at pleasure?Have its proceedings disallow'd, or305Allow'd, at fancy of Pie-powder?Tell all it does, or does not know,For swearing ex officio?Be forc'd t' impeach a broken hedge,And pigs unring'd at vis. franc, pledge?310Discover thieves, and bawds, recusants,Priests, witches, eves-droppers, and nuisance:Tell who did play at games unlawful,And who fill'd pots of ale but half-full;And have no pow'r at all, nor shift,315To help itself at a dead lift?

Why should not conscience have vacationAs well as other courts o' th' nation?Have equal power to adjourn,Appoint appearance and retorn?320And make as nice distinctions serveTo split a case; as those that carve.Invoking cuckolds' names, hit joints?Why should not tricks as slight, do points?Is not th' High Court of Justice sworn325To just that law that serves their turn?Make their own jealousies high treason,And fix them whomsoe'er they please on?Cannot the learned counsel thereMake laws in any shape appear?330Mould 'em as witches do their clay,When they make pictures to destroy?And vex them into any formThat fits their purpose to do harm?Rack them until they do confess,335Impeach of treason whom they please,

And most perfidiously condemnThose that engag'd their lives for them?And yet do nothing in their own senseBut what they ought by oath and conscience.340Can they not juggle, and with slightConveyance 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,345The same case sev'ral ways adjudge?As seamen, with the self-same gale,Will sev'ral different courses sail;As when the sea breaks o'er its bounds,And overflows the level grounds,350Those banks and dams, that, like a screen,Did keep it out, now keep it in;So when tyrannical usurpationInvades the freedom of a nation,The laws o' th' land that were intended355To keep it out, are made defend it.Does not in Chanc'ry ev'ry man swearWhat makes best for him in his answer?

Is not the rinding up witnesses,And nicking, more than half the bus'ness?360Por Matnesses, like watches, goJust as they're set, too fast or slow;And where in conscience they're strait-lac'd,'Tis ten to one that side is cast.Do not your juries give their verdict365As if they felt the cause, not heard it?And as they please make matter o' factRun all on one side as they're packt?Nature has made man's breast no windores,To publish what he does within-doors;370Nor what dark secrets there inhabit,Unless his own rash folly blab it.If oaths can do a man no goodIn his own bus'ness, why they shou'dIn other matters do him hurt,375I 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 saidTo break an oath he never made?380These reasons may perhaps look oddlyTo th' wicked, tho' they evince the godly;But if they will not serve to clearMy honour, I am ne'er the near.Honour is like that glassy bubble,385That finds philosophers such trouble;Whose least part crack'd, the whole does fly,And wits are crack'd to find out why.

Quoth Ralpho, Honour's but a wordTo swear by only in a lord:390In other men 'tis but a huffTo vapour with, instead of proof;That like a wen looks big and swells,Is senseless, and just nothing else.Let it, quoth he, be what it will,395It has the world's opinion still.But as men are not wise, that runThe slightest hazard they may shun;There may a medium be found outTo clear to all the world the doubt;400And that is, if a man may do't,By proxy whipp'd, or substitute.Though nice and dark the point appear,Quoth Ralph, it may hold up and clear.That sinners may supply the place405Of suffering saints, is a plain case.Justice gives sentence, many times,On one man for another's crimes.

Our brethren of New England useChoice malefactors to excuse,410And hang the guiltless in their stead,Of whom the churches have less need.As lately 't happen'd: in a townThere liv'd a cobler, and but one,That out of doctrine could cut use, 415And mend men's lives as well as shoes.This precious brother having slain,In times of peace, an Indian,Not out of malice, but mere zeal,Because he was an infidel, 420The mighty TottipottimoySent to our elders an envoy,Complaining sorely of the breachOf league, held forth by brother Patch,Against the articles in force425Between both churches, his and ours;For which he crav'd the saints to renderInto his hands, or hang th' offender:But they maturely having weigh'dThey had no more but him o' th' trade;430A man that serv'd them in a doubleCapacity, to teach and cobble;Resolv'd to spare him: yet to doThe Indian Hoghan Moghan too

Impartial justice, in his stead did 435Hang 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.440It 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, 445Be tender-conscienc'd of thy back:Then strip thee of thy carnal jerkin,And give thy outward fellow a firking;For when thy vessel is new hoop'd,All leaks of sinning will be stopp'd. 450Quoth Ralpho, You mistake the matter.For in all scruples of this nature,No man includes himself, nor turnsThe point upon his own concerns.As no man of his own self catches 455The itch, or amorous French achès;So no man does himself convince,By his own doctrine, of his sins:And though all cry down self, none meansHis own self in a literal sense: 460Besides, it is not only foppish,But vile, idolatrous, and popish,For one man out of his own skinTo firk and whip another's sin;

As pedants out of school-boys' breeches465Do 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 itYou did the deed, when I have done it. 470Quoth Hudibras, That's answer'd soon;Give us the whip, we'll lay it on.Quoth Ralpho, That you may swear true,'Twere properer that I whipp'd you;For when with your consent 'tis done,475The act is really your own.Quoth Hudibras, It is in vain,I see, to argue 'gainst the grain;Or, like the stars, incline men toWhat they're averse themselves to do: 480For 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; 485As, 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 bear thy part1' th' public work, base as thou art? 490To higgle thus, for a few blows,To gain thy Knight an op'lent spouse,Whose wealth his bowels yearn to purchase,Merely for th' int'rest of the churches?And when he has it in his claws, 495Will 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.500Ye 'ad best, quoth Ralpho, as the ancientsSay wisely, have a care o' th' main chance,And look before you, ere you leap;For as you sow y' are like to reap:And were y' as good as George-a-green,505I should make bold to turn agen;Nor am I doubtful of the issueIn a just quarrel, as mine is so.Is 't fitting for a man of honourTo whip the saints, like Bishop Bonner?510A 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 chance515From hence, to spring a variance,And raise among themselves new scruples,Whom common danger hardly couples,Remember how in arms and politics,We still have worsted all your holy tricks;520

Trepann'd your party with intrigue,And took your grandees down a peg;New-modell'd the army, and cashier'dAll that to Legion Smec adher'd;Made a mere utensil o' your church,525And after left it in the lurch;A scaffold to build up our own,And when w' had done with 't, pull'd it down;Capoch'd your rabbins of the Synod,And snapp'd their canons with a why-not.530Grave synod-men, that were rever'dFor 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,535On which they'd 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.540At 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,545And 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 ransomMuch more consid'rable and handsome;550But for their own sakes, and for fearThey were not safe, when I was there;Now to be baffled by a scoundrel,An upstart sect'ry, and a mungrel,Such as breed out of peccant humours555Of our own church, like wens or tumours,And like a maggot in a sore,Wou'd that which gave it life devour;It never shall be done or said:With that he seiz'd upon his blade;560And 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,565With hideous clamour, and a loud one,As if all sorts of noise had beenContracted into one loud din;Or that some Member to be chosen,Had got the odds above a thousand;570And, by the greatness of his noise,Prov'd fittest for his country's choice.

This strange surprisal put the KnightAnd wrathful Squire into a fright;And tho' they stood prepar'd, with fatal575Impetuous rancour, to join battle,Both thought it was the wisest courseTo wave the fight, and mount to horse;And to secure, by swift retreating,Themselves from danger of worse beating;580Yet neither of them would disparage,By utt'ring of his mind, his courage,Which made them stoutly keep their ground,With horror and disdain wind-bound.And now the cause of all their fear585By slow degrees approach'd so near,They might distinguish different noiseOf horns, and pans, and dogs, and boys,And kettle-drums, whose sullen dubSounds like the hooping of a tub:590But when the sight appear'd in view,They found it was an antique show;A triumph, that for pomp and state,Did proudest Romans emulate:For as the aldermen of Rome595Their foes at training overcome,And not enlarging territory,As some, mistaken, write in story,

Being mounted in their best array,Upon a car, and who but they?600And follow'd with a world of tall lads,That merry ditties troll'd, and ballads,Did ride with many a good-morrow,Crying, Hey for our town, thro' the borough;So when this triumph drew so nigh, 605They might particulars descry,They never saw two things so pat,To all respects, as this and that.First he that led the cavalcate,Wore a sow-gelder's flagellate, 610On which he blew as strong a levet,As well-feed lawyer on his brev'ate,When over one another's headsThey charge, three ranks at once, like Sweads:Next pans and kettles of all keys, 615From trebles down to double base;And after them upon a nag,That might pass for a fore-hand stag,A cornet rode, and on his staff,A smock display'd did proudly wave. 620Then bagpipes of the loudest drones,With snuffling broken-winded tones;Whose blasts of air in pockets shut,Sound filthier than from the gut,And make a viler noise than swine625In windy weather, when they whine.

Next one upon a pair of panniers,Full fraught with that which, for good manners,Shall here be nameless, mix'd with grains,Which he dispens'd among the swains,630And busily upon the crowdAt random round about bestow'd.Then mounted on a horned horse,One bore at gauntlet and gilt spurs,Ty'd to the pommel of a long sword635He held revers'd, the point turn'd downward.Next after, on a raw-bon'd steed,The conqueror's standard-bearer rid,And bore aloft before the championA petticoat display'd, and rampant;640Near whom the Amazon triumphant,Bestrid her beast, and on the rump on'tSat face to tail, and bum to bum,The warrior whilom overcome;Arm'd with a spindle and a distaff,645Which, as he rode, she made him twist off;And when he loiter'd, o'er her shoulderChastised the reformado soldier.Before the dame, and round about,March'd whifflers, and staffiers on foot.650With lackies, grooms, valets, and pages.In fit and proper equipages;Of whom some torches bore, solve links,Before the proud virago-minx.That was both madam and a don.655Like Nero's Sporus; or Pope Joan;

And at fit periods the whole routSet up their throats with clam'rous shout.The Knight transported, and the Squire,Put up their weapons and their ire;660And Hudibras, who us'd to ponderOn such sights with judicious wonder,Could hold no longer, to impartHis an'madversions, for his heart.Quoth he, In all my life till now,665I 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, 670With all the Grecian Speeds and Stows,That best describe those ancient shows;And has observ'd all fit decorumsWe find describ'd by old historians:

For, as the Roman conqueror, 675That put an end to foreign war,Ent'ring the town in triumph for it,Bore a slave with him in his chariot;So this insulting female braveCarries behind her here a slave: 680And 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, 685A Tyrian petticoat for banner.Next links and torches, heretoforeStill borne before the emperor:And, as in antique triumphs, eggsWere borne for mystical intrigues; 690There's one with truncheon, like a ladle,That carries eggs too, fresh or adle:And still at random, as he goes,Among the rabble-rout bestows.Quoth Ralpho, You mistake the matter; 695For all th' antiquity you smatterIs but a riding, us'd of courseWhen the grey mare's the better horse;When o'er the breeches greedy womenFight, to extend their vast dominion, 700And in the cause impatient GrizelHas 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, 705And 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: 710For when men by their wives are cow'd,Their horns of course are understood.Quoth Hudibras, Thou still giv'st sentenceImpertinently, and against sense:'Tis not the least disparagement 715To be defeated by th' event,Nor to be beaten by main force;That does not make a man the worse,Altho' his shoulders, with battoon,Be claw'd, and cudgell'd to some tune; 720A tailor's 'prentice has no hardMeasure, 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 the assault, 725That's no man's fortune, but his fault;And renders men of honour lessThan all th' adversity of success;And only unto such this showOf horns and petticoats is due. 730There is a lesser profanation,Like that the Romans call'd ovation:

For as ovation was allow'dFor conquest purchas'd without blood;So men decree those lesser shows 735For vict'ry gotten without blows.By dint of sharp hard words, which someGive battle with, and overcome;These mounted in a chair-curule,Which moderns call a cucking-stool, 740March proudly to the river's side,And o'er the waves in triumph ride;Like dukes of Venice, who are saidThe Adriatic sea to wed;And have a gentler wife than those 745For whom the state decrees those shows.But both are heathenish, and comeFrom th' whores of Babylon and Rome,And by the saints should be withstood,As antichristian and lewd; 750And we, as such, should now contributeOur utmost strugglings to prohibit.This said, they both advanc'd, and rodeA dog-trot through the bawling crowdT' attack the leader, and still prest 755'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 processionWith men of orthodox profession? 760

'Tis ethnique and idolatrous,From heathenism deriv'd to us.Does not the whore of Bab'lon rideUpon her horned beast astride,Like this proud dame, who either is 765A type of her, or she of this?Are things of superstitious functionFit to be us'd in gospel sun-shine?It is an antichristian operaMuch us'd in midnight times of popery; 770A running after self-inventionsOf wicked and profane intentions;To scandalize that sex for scolding,To whom the saints are so beholden.Women, who were our first apostles, 775Without whose aid w' had all been lost else;Women, that left no stone unturn'dIn which the Cause might be concern'd;Brought in their children's spoons and whistles,To purchase swords, carbines, and pistols: 780Their husbands, cullies, and sweethearts,To take the saints' and church's parts;

Drew several gifted brethren in,That for the bishops would have been,And fix'd them constant to the Party, 785With motives powerful and hearty:Their husbands robb'd and made hard shiftsT' administer unto their giftsAll they could rap, and rend, and pilfer,To scraps and ends of gold and silver; 790Rubb'd down the teachers, tir'd and spentWith holding forth for Parliament;Pamper'd and edify' d their zealWith marrow puddings many a meal:Enabled them, with store of meat, 795On controverted points to eat:And cramm'd them till their guts did ache,With caudle, custard, and plum-cake.AV^hat have they done, or what left undone,That might advance the Cause at London? 800March' d rank and file, with drum and ensign,T' entrench the city for defence in;Rais'd rampires with their own soft hands,To put the enemy to stands;Prom ladies down to oyster-wenches 805Labour'd like pioneers in trenches,Pell to their pick-axes and tools,And help'd the men to dig like moles?

Have not the handmaids of the cityChose of their members a committee, 810For raising of a common purseOut of their wages, to raise horse?And do they not as triers sitTo judge what officers are fit?Have they——At that an egg let fly, 815Hit him directly o'er the eye,And running down his cheek, besmear'd,With orange-tawny slime, his beard;But beard and slime be'ng of one hue,The wound the less appear'd in view. 820Then he that on the panniers rodeLet fly on th' other side a load,And quickly charg'd again, gave fully,In Ralpho's face, another volley.The Knight was startled with the smell, 825And for his sword began to feel;And Ralpho, smother'd with the sink,Grasp'd his, when one that bore a link,O' the sudden clapp'd his flaming cudgel.Like linstock, to the horse's touch-hole; 830And 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;

Thro' which they quickly broke their way, 835And brought them off from further fray;And tho' 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; 840And, 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 845Their spirits, spent with fight and flying,And Hudibras recruited forceOf lungs, for action or discourse:Quoth he, That man is sure to loseThat fouls his hands with dirty foes: 850For where no honour's to be gain'd,'Tis thrown away in be'ng maintain'd:'Twas ill for us we had to doWith so dishon'rable a foe:For tho' the law of arms doth bar 855The use of venom'd shot in war,Yet by the nauseous smell, and noisome,Their case-shot savours strong of poison;And, doubtless, have been chew'd with teethOf some that had a stinking breath; 860Else when we put it to the push,They had not giv'n us such a brush:But as those poltroons that fling dirt,Do but defile, but cannot hurt;So all the honour they have won, 865Or we have lost, is much at one.

'Twas well we made so resoluteA brave retreat, without pursuit;For if we had not, we had spedMuch worse, to be in triumph led;870Than which the ancients held no stateOf man's life more unfortunate.But if this bold adventure e'erDo chance to reach the widow's ear,It may, being destin'd to assert875Her sex's honour, reach her heart:And as such homely treats, they say,Portend good fortune, so this may.Vespasian being daub'd with dirtWas destin'd to the empire for't;880And from a scavenger did comeTo be a mighty prince in Rome:

And why may not this foul addressPresage in love the same success?Then let us straight, to cleanse our wounds,885Advance in quest of nearest ponds;And after, as we first design'd,Swear I've perform'd what she enjoin'd.