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It never shall be done or said:
With that he seiz'd upon his blade;

Then bagpipes of the loudest drones,

With snuffling, broken-winded tones,
And Ralpho too, as quick and bold,

Whose blasts of air, in pockets shut,
Upon his basket-hilt laid hold,

Sound filthier than from the gut, With equal readiness prepar'd,

And makes a viler noise than swine, To draw, and stand upon his guard ;

In windy weather, when they whine. When both were parted on the sudden,

Next one upon a pair of panniers, With hideous clamour, and a loud one,

Full fraught with that which, for good manners, As if all sorts of noise had been

Shall here be nameless, mixt with grains, Contracted into one loud din:

Which he dispens'd among the swains, Or that some member to be chosen,

And busily upon the crowd Had got the odds above a thousand;

At random round about bestow'd. And, by the greatness of his noise,

Then, mounted on a horned horse, Prov'd fittest for his country's choice.

One bore a gauntlet and gilt spurs, This strange surprisal put the Knight

Ty'd to the pummel of a long sword And wrathsul Squire into a fright;

He held reverst, the point turn'd downward: And though they stood preparod, with fatal

Next after, on a raw-bon'd steed, Impetuous rancour, to join battle,

The conqu’ror's Standard-bearer rid, Both thought it was the wisest course

And bore aloft before the champion To waive the fight, and mount to horse,

A petticoat display'd, and rampant; And to secure, by swift retreating,

Near whom the Amazon triumphant Themselves from danger of worse beating;

Bestrid her beast, and on the rump on't Yet neither of them would disparage,

Sat face to tail, and bum to bum, By utt'ring of his mind, his courage,

The warrior wbilom overcome, Which made 'em stoutly keep their ground,

Arm’d with a spindle and a distaff, With horror and disdain windbound,

Which as he rode she made him twist off, And now the cause of all their fear,

And when he loiter'd, o'er her shoulder By slow degrees approach'd so near,

Chastis'd the reformado soldier. They might distinguish diff'rent noise

Before the Dame, and round about, Of horns, and pans, and dogs, and boys,

March'd whifflers, and staffiers on foot, And kettledrums, whose sullen dub

With lacquies, grooms, valets, and pages, Sounds like the hoopirig of a tub.

In fit and proper equipages; But when the sight apruar'd in view,

Of whom some torches bore, some links, They found it was an antique shew;

Before the proud virago minx, A triumph too, for pomp and state,

That was both Madam and a Don, Did proudest Romans emulate:

Like Nero's Sporus, or Pope Joan; For as the aldermen of Rome,

And at fit periods the whole rout Their foes at training overcome,

Set up their throats with clam'rous shout. And not enlarging territory,

The Knight transported, and the Squire, (As some, mistaken, write, in story)

Put up their weapons, and their ire; Being mounted in their best array,

And Hudibras, who us'd to ponder Upon a car, and who but they?

On such sights with judicious wonder, And follow'd with a world of tall lads,

Could hold no longer to impart That merry ditties troll’d, and ballads,

His an'madversions, for his heart.
Did ride with many a good-morrow,

Quoth he, in all my life, till now,
Crying, hey for our town, through the borough ; I ne'er saw so profane a shew;
So when this triumph drew so nigh,

It is a Paganish invention,
They might particulars descry,

Which Heathen writers often mention; They never saw two things so pat,

And he who made it had read Goodwin, In all respects, as this and that.

Or Ross, or Cælius Rhodogine, First, he that led the cavalcate

With all the Grecian Speeds and Stows,

That best describe those ancient shews;
Wore a sow-gelder's flagellate,
On which he blew as strong a levet,

And has observ'd all fit decorums

We find describ'd by old historians:
As well-feed lawyer on his brev'ate,

For as the Roman conqueror,
That 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 brave
Carries, behind her here, a slave:
And as the ancients long ago,
When they in field defy'd the foe,

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When over one another's heads
They charge (three ranks at once) like Sweeds.
Next pans and kettles of all keys,
From trebles down to double base;
And after them upon a nag,
That might pass for a forehand stag,
A Cornet rode, and on his staff
A smock display'd did proudly wave;

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Hung out their mantles della guerre,

Till falling back still, for retreat,
So her proud Standard-bearer here,

He fell to juggle, cant, and cheat:
Waves on his spear, in dreadful manner,

For as those fowls that live in water
A Tyrian petticoat for banner.

Are never wet, he did but smatter;
Next links and torches, heretofore

Whate'er he labour'd to appear,
Still borne before the emperor:

His understanding still was clear.
And as in antique triumph, eggs

Yet none a deeper knowledge boasted,
Were borne for mystical intrigues;

Since old Hodge Bacon, and Bob Grusted.
There's one in truncheon, like a ladle,

Th’intelligible world he knew,
That carries eggs too, fresh or addle;

And all men dream on't, to be true,
And still at random, as he goes,

That in this world's not a wart
Among the rabble-rout bestows.

That has not there a counterpart;
Quoth Ralpho, you mistake the matter;

Nor can there on the face of ground
For all th' antiquity you smatter

An individual beard be found
Is but a riding us'd of course,

That has not, in that foreign nation,
When the grey mare's the better horse;

A fellow of the self-same fashion;
When o'er the breeches greedy women

So cut, so colour'd, and so curl’d,
Fight, to extend their vast dominion,

As those are in th' inferior world.
And in the cause impatient Grizel

He'd read Dee's prefaces before,
Has drubb'd her husband with bull's pizzle, The Devil, and Euclid, o'er and o'er ;
And brought him under covert-baron,

And all th' intrigues 'twixt him and Kelly,
To turn her vassal with a murrain;

Lescus and th’Emperor, would tell ye:
When wives their sexes shift, like hares,

But with the inoon was more familiar
And ride their husbands, like night-mares,

Than e'er was almanack well-willer;
And they in mortal battle vanquish'd,

Her secrets understood so clear,
Are of their charter disenfranchis'd,

That some believ'd he had been there;
And by the right of war, like Gills,

Knew when she was in fittest mood
Condemn d to distaff, horns, and wheels:

For cutting corns, or letting blood :
For when men by their wives are cow'd,

When for anointing scabs or itches,
Their horns of course are understood.

Or to the bum applying leeches;
When sows and bitches may be spay'd,

And in what sign best cyder's made ;

Whether the wane be, or increase,

Best to set garlic, or sow pease;
Quoth Hudibras, the case is clear

Who first found out the man o' th' moon,
The Saints may ’mploy a conjurer,

That to th' ancients was unknown;
As thou hast prov'd it by their practise ;

How many dukes, and earls, and peers,
No argument like matter of fact is:

Are in the planetary spheres ;
And we are best of all led to

Their airy empire, and command,
Men's principles, by what they do.

Their sev’ral strengths by sea and land;
Then let us straight advance in quest

What factions they've, and what they drive at
Of this profound gymnosophist,

In public vogue, or what in private:
And as the Fates and he advise,

With what designs and interests
Pursue, or waive this enterprise.

Each party manages contests.
This said, he turn'd about his steed,

He made an instrument to know
And eftsoons on th' adventure rid;

If the moon shine at full or no;
Where leave we him and Ralph awhile,

That would, as soon as e'er she shone, straight,
And to the conj’rer turn our style,

Whether 'twere day or night demonstrate;

Tell what her d'ameter to an inch is,
To let our reader understand

And prove that she's not made of green cheese.
What's useful of bim beforehand.

It wou'd demonstrate, that the man in
He had been long t'wards mathematics,

The moon's a sea Mediterranean;
Optics, philosophy, and statics,

And that it is no dog or bitch
Magic, horoscopy, astrology,

That stands behind him at his breech,
And was old dog at physiology;

But a huge Caspian sea or lake,
But as a dog that turns the spit

With arms, which men for legs mistake;
Bestirs himself, and plies his feet

How large a gulf his tail composes,
And what a goodly bay his nose is;
How many German leagues by th' scale
Cape Snout's from Promontory Tail.
He made a planetary gin,
Which rats would run their own heads in,

To climb the wheel, but all in vain,
His own weight brings him down again,
And still he's in the self-same place
Where at his setting out he was ;
So in the circle of the arts
Did he advance his nat'ral parts,

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And come on purpose to be taken,

And all discoveries disperse Without th’expense of cheese or bacon;

Among the whole pack of conjurers; With lustrings he would counterfeit

What cut-purses have left with them, Maggots that crawl on dish of meat;

For the right owners to redeem, Quote moles and spots on any place

And what they dare not vent, find out, O'th' body, by the index face;

To gain themselves and th' art repute; Detect lost maidenheads by sneezing,

Draw figures, schemes, and horoscopes, Or breaking wind of dames, or pissing ;

Of Newgate, Bridewell, brokers' shops, Cure warts and corns, with application

Of thieves ascendant in the cart, Of med'cines to th' imagination:

And find out all by rules of art; Fright agues into dogs, and scare,

Which way a serving man,

that's run

var det With rhymes, the tooth-ach and catarrh;

With clothes or money away, is gone; Chase evil sp’rits away by dint

Who pick'd a fob at holding-forth, Of sickle, horseshoe, hollow flint;

And where a watch, for half the worth, Spit fire out of a walnut-shell,

May be redeem’d; or stolen plate Which made the Roman slaves rebel;

Restor'd at conscionable rate. And fire a mine in China here,

Besides all this, he serv'd his master With sympathetic gunpowder.

In quality of poetaster, He knew whats'ever's to be known,

And rhymes appropriate could make But much more than he knew would own.

To ev'ry month i' th' almanack; What med'cine 'twas that Paracelsus

When terms begin and end could tell, Could make a man with, as he tells us;

With their returns, in doggerel; What figur'd slates are best to make,

When the Exchequer opes and shuts, On wat'ry surface, duck or drake;

And sowgelder with safety cuts; What bowling-stones, in running race

When men may eat and drink their fill, Upon a board, have swiftest pace;

And when be temp'rate, if they will; Whether a pulse beat in the black

When and when abstain from vice, List of a dappled louse's back;

Figs, grapes, phlebotomy, and spice. If systole or dyastole move

And as in prison mean rogues beat Quickest when he's in wrath, or love;

Hemp for the service of the great, When two of them do run a race,

So Whachum beat his dirty brains Whether they gallop, trot, or pace;

T'advance his master's fame and gains, How many scores a flea will jump,

And, like the Devil's oracles, Of his own length from head to rump,

Put into doggrel rhymes his spells, Which Socrates and Chærephon

Which over ev'ry month's blank page In vain assay'd so long agone;

l'th'almanack, strange bilks presage. Whether his snout a perfect nose is,

He would an elegy compose And not an elephant's proboscis;

On maggots squeez'd out of his nose ; How many different species

In lyric numbers write an ode on Of maggots breed in rotten cheese ;

His mistress, eating a black pudden; And which are next of kin to those

And when imprison'd air escap'd her, Engender'd in a chandler's nose ;

It puft him with poetic rapture. Or those not seen, but understood,

His sonnets charm'd th' attentive crowd, That live in vinegar and wood.

By wide-mouth'd mortal troll'd aloud, A paltry wretch he had, half starv'd,

That, circled with his long ear'd guests, That him in place of zany serv'd,

Like Orpheus look'd among the beasts; Hight Whachum, bred to dash and draw,

A carman's horse could not pass by, Not wine, but more unwholesome law;

But stood ty’d up to poetry; To make 'twixt words and lines huge gaps,

No porter's burden pass’d along, Wide as meridians in maps;

But sery'd for burden to his song: To squander paper, and spare ink,

Each window like a pill’ry appears, Or cheat men of their words, some think.

With heads thrust through, nail'd by the ears ; From this, by merited degrees,

All trades run in as to the sight He'd to more high advancement rise,

Of monsters, or their dear delight To be an under-conjurer,

The gallow-tree, when cutting purse Or journeyman astrologer:

Breeds bus'ness for heroic verse, His bus'ness was to pump and wheedle,

Which none does hear but would have hung And men with their own keys unriddle;

T' have been the theme of such a song. To make them to themselves give answers,

Those two together long had liv'd For which they pay the necromancers;

In mansion prudently contriv’d, To fetch and carry ’ntelligence

Where neither tree nor house could bar Of whom, and what, and where, and whence, The free detection of a star;

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And nigh an ancient obelisk


More false and nice than weighing of the weather

To th' hundredth atom of the lightest feather,
Was tais'd by him, found out by Fisk,
On which was written, not in words,

Or measuring of air upon Parnassus,

With cylinders of Torricellian glasses ;
But hieroglyphic mute of birds,
Many rare pithy saws, concerning

Reduce all Tragedy, by rules of art,
The worth of astrologic learning:

Back to its antique theatre, a cart,
From top of this there hung a rope,

And make them thenceforth keep the beaten roads
To which he fasten'd telescope,

Of rev'rend chorusses and episodes;
The spectacles with which the stars

Reform and regulate a puppet play,
He reads in smallest characters.

According to the true and ancient way,
It happen'd as a boy, one night,

That not an actor shall presume to squeak,
Did fly his tassel of a kite,

Unless he have a licence for 't in Greek ;
The strangest long-wing'd hawk that flies,

Nor Whittington henceforward sell his cat in
That, like a bird of Paradise,

Plain vulgar English, without mewing Latin :
Or herald's martlet, has no legs,

No pudding shall be suffer'd to be witty,
Nor hatches young ones, nor lays eggs;

Unless it be in order to raise pity;
His train was six yards long, milk-white,

Nor devil in the puppet-play b' allow'd
At th' end of which there hung a light,

To roar and spit fire, but to fright the crowd,
Inclos'd in lantern made of paper,

Unless some god or demon chanced t' have piques
That far off like a star did appear:

Against an ancient family of Greeks ;
This Sidrophel by chance espy'd,

That other men may tremble and take warning,
And with amazement staring wide,

How such a fatal progeny they're born in ;
Bless us, quoth he, what dreadful wonder

For none but such for tragedy are fitted,
Is that appears in Heaven yonder?

That have been ruin'd only to be pity'd;
A comet, and without a beard!

And only those held proper to deter,
Or star that ne'er before appear'd !

Who've had th’ill luck against their wills to err;
I'm certain 'tis not in the scroll

Whence only such as are of middling sizes,
Of all those beasts, and fish, and fowl,

Between morality and venial vices,
With which, like Indian plantations,

Are qualified to be destroy'd by Fate,
The learned stock the constellations;

For other mortals to take warning at.
Nor those that drawn for signs have been

As if the antique laws of Tragedy
To th' houses where the planets inn.

Did with our own municipal agree,
It must be supernatural,

And served, like cobwebs, t' ensnare the weak,
Unless it be that cannon-ball

And give diversion to the great to break;
That, shot i’ th' air point blank upright,

To make a less delinquent to be brought
Was borne to that prodigious height

To answer for a greater person's fault,
That, learn’d philosophers maintain,

And suffer all the worst the worst approver
It ne'er came backwards down again,

Can, to excuse and save himself, discover.
But in the airy region yet

No longer shall Dramatics be confined
Hangs, like the body of Mahomet:

To draw true images of all mankind;
For if it be above the shade

To punish in effigy criminals,
That by the earth's round bulk is made,

Reprieve the innocent, and hang the false;
'Tis probable it may, from far,

But a club-law to execute and kill,
Appear no bullet, but a star.

For nothing, whomsoe'er they please, at will,
To terrify spectators from committing

The crimes they did, and suffer'd for, unwitting.

These are the reformations of the Stage,

Like other reformations of the age,

On purpose to destroy all wit and sense,

As th' other did all law and conscience;
Who ever will regard poetic fury,

No better than the laws of British plays,
When it is once found Idiot by a jury,

Confirm'd in th' ancient good King Howell's days,

Who made a general council regulate
And every pert and arbitrary fool

Men's catching women by the-you know what,
Can all poetic licence over-rule;

And set it in the rubric at what time
Assume a barb'rous tyranny to handle

It should be counted legal, when a crime,
The Muses worse than Ostrogoth and Vandal;

Declare when 'twas, and when 'twas not a sin,
Make 'em submit to verdict and report,

And on what days it went out or came in.
And stand or fall to th' orders of the court ?

An English poet should be try'd b’ his peers,
Much less be sentenced by the arbitrary

And not by pedants and philosophers,
Proceedings of a witless plagiary,

Incompetent to judge poetic fury,
That forges old records and ordinances

As butchers are forbid to be of a jury;


Against the right and properties of fancies,

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Besides the most intolerable wrong

So, in return, that strives to render legs To try their matters in a foreign tongue,

The last delusion, with its own excess, By foreign jurymen, like Sophocles,

And, like two unskill'd gamesters, use one way, Or tales falser than Euripides ;

With bungling í help out one another's play. When not an English native dares appear

For those who heretofore sought private holes, To be a witness for the prisoner ;

Securely in the dark to damn their souls, When all the laws they use t' arraign and try

Wore vizards of hypocrisy, to steal The innocent and wrong'd delinquent by,

And slink away in masquerade to hell, Were made b' a foreign lawyer, and his pupils,

Now bring their crimes into the open sun, To put an end to all poetic scruples,

For all mankind to gaze their worst upon, And by th' advice of virtuosi Tuscans,

As eagles try their young against his rays, Determin'd all the doubts of socks and buskins ; To prove if they're of gen’rous breed or base; Gave judgment on all past and future plays,

Call heav'n and earth to witness how they've aim'd, As is apparent by Speroni's case,

With all their utmost vigour, to be damn’d, Which Lope Vega first began to steal,

And by their own examples in the view And after him the French filou Corneille;

Of all the world, strived to damn others too ; And since our English plagiaries nim,

On all occasions sought to be as civil And steal their far-fet criticisms from him,

As possibly they could t' his grace the Devil, And by an action falsely laid of Trover,

To give him no unnecessary trouble, The lumber for their proper goods recover;

Nor in small matters use a friend so noble, Enough to furnish all the lewd impeachers

But with their constant practice done their best Of witty Beaumont's poetry, and Fletcher's,

T' improve and propagate his interest: Who for a few misprisions of wit,

For men have now made vice so great an art, Are charg'd by those who ten times worse commit;

The matter of fact 's become the slightest part ; And for misjudging some unhappy scenes,

And the debauched'st actions they can do, Are censured for 't with more unlucky sense ; Mere trifles to the circumstance and shew. When all their worst miscarriages delight,

For 'tis not what they do that's now the sin, And please more than the best that pedants write. But what they lewdly affect and glory in,

As if prepost'rously they would profess

A forced hypocrisy of wickedness;

And affectation, that makes good things bad,

Must make affected shame accurs'd and mad;
'Tis a strange age we've lived in, and a lewd, For vices for themselves may find excuse,
As e'er the sun in all his travels view'd;

But never for their complement and shews; An age as vile as ever Justice urg'd,

That if there ever were a mystery
Like a fantastic letcher to be scourg'd;

Of moral secular iniquity,
Nor has it 'scap'd, and yet has only learn’d, And that the churches may not lose their due
The more 'tis plagued, to be the less concern'd. By being encroach'd upon, 'tis now, and new :
Twice have we seen two dreadful judgments rage, For men are now as scrupulous and nice,
Enough to fright the stubborn'st-hearted age ; And tender-conscienc'd of low paltry vice,
The one to mow vast crowds of people down, Disdain as proudly to be thought to have
The other (as then needless) half the town ;

To do in any mischief but the brave,
And two as mighty miracles restore

As the most scrup'lous zealot of late times What both had ruin'd and destroy'd before ; T' appear in any but the horrid'st crimes; In all as unconcern'd as if they 'ad been

Have as precise and strict punctilios
But pastimes for diversion to be seen,

Now to appear, as then to make no shews,
Or, like the plagues of Egypt, meant a curse, And steer the world by disagreeing force
Not to reclaim us, but to make us worse. (head) Of diff'rent customs 'gainst her nat'ral course :

Twice have men turn’d the world (that silly block So pow'rful 's ill example to encroach,
The wrong side outward, like a juggler's pocket, And Nature, spite of all her laws, debauch ;
Shook out hypocrisy as fast and loose

Example, that imperious dictator
As e'er the dev'l could teach, or sinners use, Of all that's good or bad to human nature,
And on the other side at once put in

By which the world's corrupted and reclaim'd,
As impotent iniquity and sin;

Hopes to be saved, and studies to be damn'd; As skulls that have been crack'd are often found

That reconciles all contrarieties, Upon the wrong side to receive the wound;

Makes wisdom foolishness, and folly wise, And like tobacco-pipes at one end hit,

Imposes on divinity, and sets To break at th' other still that's opposite ;

Her seal alike on truths and counterfeits ; So men, who one extravagance would shun,

Alters all characters of virtue' and vice, Into the contrary extreme have run ;

And passes one for th’ other in disguise ; And all the difference is, that as the first

Makes all things, as it pleases, understood, Provokes the other freak to prove the worst,

The good received for bad, and bad for good;

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