Hudibras in three parts.

CANTO III. (Book 3)

THE ARGUMENT.

The Knight with various doubts possest To win the Lady, goes in Quest Of Sidrophel the Rosy-crucian, To know the Dest'nies Resolution; With whom being met, they both chop Logick About the Science Astrologick. Till falling from Dispute, to Fight, The Conjurer's worsted by the Knight.

DOubtless the pleasure is as great Of being cheated, as to cheat. As lookers-on feel most delight, That least perceive a Juglers slight; And still the less they understand, The more th' admire his slight of hand.

Some with a noise, and greasie light, Are snapt, as men catch Larks by night; Ensnar'd and hamper'd by the Soul, As Noozes by the legs catch Foul. Some with a Med'cine, and Receipt, Are drawn to nibble at the Bait; And though it be a two-foot Trout, 'Tis with a single hair pull'd out. Others believe no Voice t' an Organ; So sweet as Lawyer in his Bar-gown. Until, with subtle Cobweb-cheats, Th' are catch'd in knotted Law, like Nets: In which, when once they are imbrangled, The more they stir, the more th're tangled; And while their Purses can dispute, There's no end of th' immortal Suit. Others still gape t' anticipate The Cabinet designs of Fate,

Apply to Wisards to fore-see What shall, and what shall never be: And as those Vulturs do foreboad, Believe Events prove bad, or good. A flam more sensless than the Roguery Of old Auruspicy and Augury. That out of Garbages of Cattle, Presag'd th' events of Truce, or Battle; From flight of Birds, or Chickins pecking, Success of great'st attempts would reckon, Though Cheats, yet more intelligible, Than 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 agen, (And Ralpho got a Cock-horse too Upon his Beast, with much ado)

Advanc'd on for the Widows house, T' acquit himself and pay his Vows; When various thoughts began to bustle, And 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; It might at once the ruine prove Both of his Honor, Faith, and Love. But if he should forbear to go, She might conclude h'had broke his Vow; And that he durst not now for shame Appear in Court to try his Claim. This was the Pen'worth of his thought, To pass time, and uneasie trot. Quoth he, in all my past Adventures, I ne'er was set so on the Tenters,

Or taken tardy with Dilemma, That, every way I turn, does hem me; And with inextricable doubt, Besets my puzled Wits about: For though the Dame has been my Bail, To free me from enchanted Jail: Yet as a Dog committed close For some offence, by chance breaks loose, And quits his Clog; but all in vain, He still draws after him his Chain. So though my Ankle she has quitted, My Heart continues still committed. And like a Bayl'd and Mainpriz'd Lover, Although at large, I am bound over. And when I shall appear in Court, To 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, Or if she put me to strict proof, And make me pull my Doublet off, To shew by evident Record, Writ on my skin, I've kept my word: How can I e'er expect to have her, Having demurr'd unto her favour? But Faith, and Love, and Honor lost, Shall be reduc'd t' a Knight o' th' Post: Beside, that Stripping may prevent What I'm to prove by Argument; And justifie I have a Tail, And that way too, my proof may fail. Or that I could enucleate, And solve the Problems of my Fate; Or find by Necromantick Art, How far the Dest'nies take my part;

For if I were not more than certain, To win, and wear her, and her Fortune, I'd go no farther in this Courtship, To hazard Soul, Estate, and Worship. For though an Oath obliges not, Where any thing is to be got, (As thou hast prov'd,) yet 'tis profane And sinful, when men swear in vain. Quoth Ralph, Not far from hence doth dwell A cunning man, hight Sidrophel, That deals in Destinies dark Counsels, And sage Opinions of the Moon sells; To whom all People far and near, On deep importances repair. When Brass and Pewter hap to stray, And Linnen slinkt out of the way; When Geese and Pullen are seduc'd, And Sows of sucking Pigs are chews'd;

When Cattle feel Indisposition, And need th' opinion of Physitian; 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; When Butter does refuse to come, And Love proves cross and humorsome: To him with Questions, and with Ʋrine, They for discov'ry flock, or Curing. Quoth Hudibras, This Sidrophel I've heard of, and should like it well, If thou canst prove the Saints, have freedom, To go to Sorc'rers when they need 'em. Says Ralpho, There's no doubt of that: Those Principles I quoted late, Prove that the Godly may alledge For any thing their Priviledge;

And to the Dev'l himself may go, If they have motives thereunto. For as there is a War between The Dev'l and them, it is no Sin, If they, by subtle Stratagem, Make use of him, as he does them. Has not this present Parliament A Legar to the Devil sent, Fully empower'd to Treat about Finding revolted Witches out: And has not he, within a year, Hang'd Threescore of them in one Shire? Some only for not being drown'd, And some for sitting above ground, Whole days and Nights upon their breeches, And feeling pain, were hang'd for Witches. And some for putting Knavish tricks Upon Green-Geese, and Turkey Chicks,

Or Pigs, that suddenly deceast, Of griefs unnat'ral, as he guest; Who after prov'd himself a Witch, And made a Rod for his own breech. Did not the Dev'l appear to Martin Luther, in Germany, for certain; And would have gull'd him with a Trick, But Mart. was too too Politick? Did he not help the Dutch to purge, At Antwerp, their Cathedral Church? 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 at Londons Belly? Meet with the Parliament's Committee At Woodstock, on a Pars'nal Treaty? At Sarum take a Cavalier I' th' Cause's service, Prisoner?

As Withers in immortal Rime Has register'd to after-time? Do not our great Reformers use This Sidrophel to foreboad News? To write of Victories next Year, And Castles taken yet i' th' Air; Of Battels fought at Sea, and Ships Sunk, two Years hence, the last Eclips? A Total O'erthrow giv'n the King In Cornwal, Horse, and Foot, next Spring? And has not he point-blank foretold Whats'er the close Committee would? Made Mars and Saturn for the Cause, The Moon for Fundamental Laws? The Ram, and Bull, and Goat declare Against the Book of Common Pray'r? The Scorpion take the Protestation, And Bear engage for Reformation?

Made all the Royal Stars recant, Compound, and take the Covenant. Quoth Hudibras, The case is clear, The Saints ma' imploy a Conjurer, As thou hast prov'd it by their practice, No Argument like matter of Fact is: And we are best of all led to Mens Principles by what they do. Then let us strait advance in quest Of this profound Gymnosophist: And as the Fates, and He advise, Pursue, or wave this Enterprise. This said, he turn'd about his Steed, And estsoons on th' adventure rid, Where, leave we Him and Ralph a while, And to the Conj'rer turn our stile: To let our Reader understand What's useful of him, before hand,

He had been long t'wards Mathematicks, Opticks, Philosophy, and Staticks, Magick, Horoscopy, Astrology, And was old Dog at Physiology; But, as a Dog that turns the spit, Bestirs himself, and plies his feet, 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; Till falling back still, for retreat, He fell to Juggle, Cant, and Cheat; For as those Fowls that live in Water Are never wet, he did but smatter; Whate'er he labour'd to appear, His Understanding still was clear.

Yet none a deeper knowledge boasted, Since old Hodg Bacon, and Bod Grosted, Th' Intelligible World he knew, And all men, dream on't, to be true: That in this World, there's not a Wart, That has not there a Counterpart; Nor can there on the face of Ground, An Individual Beard be found, That has not, in that foreign Nation, A Fellow of the self-same fashion; So cut, so color'd, and so curl'd, As those are, in th' Inferior World, H'had read Dee's Prefaces before The Dev'l, and Euclide o'er and o'er. And all th' Intrigues, 'twixt him and Kelly, Lescus, and th' Emperor, would not tell ye. But with the Moon was more familiar Than e'er was Almanack well-willer.

Her secrets understood so clear, That some believ'd he had been there. Knew when he was in fittest mood, For cutting Corns, or letting blood: When for anointing Scabs and Itches, Or to the Bum applying Leeches; When Sows and Bitches may be spade, And in what Sign best Sider's made, Whether the Wane be, or Increase, Best to set Garlick, or sow Pease. Who 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 Their sev'ral strengths by Sea and Land; What factions th' have, and what they drive at In publick Vogue, and what in private;

With what Designs and Interests, Each Party manages Contests, He made an Instrument to know If the Moon shine at Full or no, That would as soon as e'er she shon, strait Whether 'twere Day or Night demonstrate; Tell what her D'ameter t' an Inch is, And prove she is not made of Green-Cheese: It would demonstrate, that the Man in The Moon's a Sea Mediterranean. And that it is no Dog, nor Bitch, That stands behind him at his breech; But 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, Cape-Snout's from Promontory-Tayl:

He made a Planetary Gin, Which Rats would run their own heads in, And come o' purpose to be taken, Without th' expence of Cheese or Bacon; With Lute-strings he would counterfeit Maggots, that crawl on dish of meat, Quote Moles and Spots, on any place O' th' body, by the Index-face: Detect lost Maidenheads, by sneezing, Or breaking wind of Dames, or pissing. Cure Warts and Corns, with application Of Med'cines, to th' Imagination. Fright Agues into Dogs, and scare With Rimes the Tooth-ach and Catarrh. Chase evil spirits away by dint Of Cickle Horseshooe, Hollow-flint. Spit fire out of a Walnut-shell, Which made the Roman Slaves rebell.

And fire a Mine in China, here, With Sympathetick Gunpowder. He knew whats'ever's to be known, But much more than he knew, would own. What Med'cine 'twas that Paracelsus Could make a man with, as he tells us. What figur'd Slats are best to make, On wat'ry surface, Duck or Drake. What Bowling-stones, in running race Upon a Board, have swiftest pace. Whether a Pulse beat in the black List of a Dapl'd Louse's back. If Systole or Diastole move Quickest, when he's in wrath, or love: When two of them do run a race, Whether they Gallop, Trot, or Pace, How many scores a Flea will jump, Of his own length, from Head to Rump;

Which Socrates, and Chaerephon In vain, essay'd so long agon; Whether his Snout a perfect Nose is, And not an Elephant's Proboscis, How many different Specieses Of Maggots breed in rotten Cheese, And which are next of kin to those Engendred in a Chandler's Nose. Or those not seen, but understood, That live in Vinegar and Wood; A paultry Wretch, he had, half-starv'd, That him in place of Zany serv'd; Hight Whachum, bred to dash and draw, Not Wine, but more unwholsome 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;

From this, by merited degrees, He to more high Advancement rise: To be an Under-Conjurer, Or Journy-man Astrologer: His bus'ness was to pump and wheedle, And Men with their own keys unriddle. To make them to themselves give answers, For which they pay the Necromancers. To fetch and carry Intelligence, Of whom, and what, and where, and whence, And all Discoveries disperse, Among th' whole pack of Conjurers; What Cutpurses have left with them, For the right owners to redeem; And, what they dare not vend, find out, To gain themselves, and th' Art, repute. Draw Figures, Schemes, and Horoscopes, Of Newgate, Bridewell, Brokers Shops.

Of Thieves ascendent in the Cart, And find out all by rules of Art. Which way a Serving-man that's run With Cloaths or Mony away, 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 Restor'd, at Conscionable rate. Beside all this, he serv'd his Master In quality of Poetaster: And Rimes appropriate could make, To ev'ry month i' th' Almanack. When Terms begin, and end, could tell, With their Returns, in Doggerel. When the Exchequer opes and shuts, And Sowgelder, with safety cuts. When Men may Eat and Drink their fill, And when be temp'rate if they will.

When use, and when abstain from Vice, Figs, Grapes, Phlebotomy, and Spice. And as in Prisons, mean Rogues beat Hemp, for the service of the Great; So Whachum beat his durty brains, T' advance his Masters Fame and Gains; And like the Devil's Oracles, Put into Dogrel-Rimes his Spells, Which over ev'ry Months blank-page I' th' Almanack, strange Bilks presage. He would an Elegy compose On Maggots squeez'd out of his Nose; In Lyrick numbers write an Ode on His Mistriss, eating a Black-pudden: And when imprison'd Air escap'd her, It puft him with Poetick Rapture: His Sonnets charm'd th' attentive Crowd, By wide-mouth'd Mortal troul'd aloud;

That, circl'd with his long-ear'd Guests, Like Orpheus look'd, among the Beasts, A Carman's Horse could not pass by, But stood ty'd up to Poetry, No Porter's Burthen past along, But serv'd for Burthen to his Song. Each Windore, like a Pill'ry appears, With heads thrust through, nail'd by the Ears: All Trades run in as to the sight Of Monsters, or their dear delight; The Gallow-Tree, when cutting Purse, Breeds bus'ness for Heroick Verse, Which none does hear, but would have hung I've been the Theame of such a Song. Those two together long had liv'd, ••n Mansion prudently contriv'd; Where neither Tree, nor House could bar The free detection of a Star;

And nigh an Antient Obelisk Was rais'd by him, found out by Fisk, On which was written, not in words, But Hieroglyphick Mute of Birds, Many rare pithy Saws concerning The worth of Astrologick Learning: From top of this there hung a Rope, To which he fastned Telescope; The Spectacles, with which the Stars He reads in smallest Characters. It hapned as a Boy, one night, Did fly his Tarsel of a Kite, The strangest long-wing'd Hauk that slies, That like a Bird of Paradise. Or Heralds Martlet, has no legs, Nor hatches young ones, nor lay Eggs; His Train was six yards long, milk-white, At th' end of which there hung a Light,

Enclos'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 Is that, appears in Heaven yonder? A Comet, and without a Beard? Or Star, that ne're before appear'd; I'm certain, 'tis not in the Scrowl, Of all those Beasts, and Fish and Fowl, With which, like Indian Plantations, The Learned stock the Constellations: Nor those that drawn from Signs have bin, To th' Houses where the Planets Inn. ••t must be supernatural, Uuless it be that Cannon-Ball, That, shot in th' Air, point-blank, upright, Was born to that prodigious height,

That learn'd Philosophers maintain, It ne're came backwards, down agen; But in the Aëry Region yet, Hangs like the Body o' Mahomet. For if it be above the Shade, That by the Earths round bulk is made, 'Tis probable, it may, from far, Appear 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 right Against the Glow-worm Tail of Kite. Then peeping through, (bless us quoth he) It is a Planet now I see; And if I err not, by this proper Figure, that's like Tobacco-stopper, It should be Saturn: yes, 'tis clear 'Tis Saturn, But what makes him there?

He's got between the Dragon's Tail, And farther Leg behind, o'th' Whale; Pray Heaven, divert the fatal Omen, For 'tis a Prodigy not common, And can no less than the Worlds end, Of Natures funeral portend. With that he fell again to pry Through Perspective more wistfully, When by mischance, the fatal string That kept the Tow'ring Fowl on wing, Breaking, down fell the Star: Well shot, Quoth Whachum, who right wisely though•• H'had levell'd at a Star, and hit it: But Sidrophel more subtle-witted, Cry'd out, What horrible and fearful, Portent is this, to see a Star fall? It threatens Nature, and the doom Will not be long before it come.

When Stars do fall, 'tis plain enough, The Day of Judgment's not far off: As lately 'twas reveal'd to Sedgwick. And some of us find out by Magick. Then, since the time we have to live, In this world's shortned, Let us strive, To make our best advantage of it, And pay our losses with our profit. This feat fell out, not long before The Knight upon the forenam'd score, In quest of Sidrophel advancing, Was now in prospect of the Mansion: Whom he discovering, turn'd his Glass, And found far off, 'twas Hudibrass. Whachum (quoth he) look yonder; some To try, or use our Art, are come: The one's the Learned Knight; seek out, And pump'em, what they come about.

Whachum advanc'd with all submissness, T' accost 'em, but much more, their bus'ness. He held the Stirrup, while the Knight, From 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: He ask'd them whence they came, and whither Their business lay? Quoth Ralpho, hither; Did you not lose — Quoth Ralpho, Nay; Quoth Whachum, Sir, I meant your way; Your Knight—Quoth Ralpho, is a Lover, And pains intolerable doth suffer, For Lovers Hearts are not their own Hearts, Nor Lights nor Lungs, and so forth downwards; What time—Quoth Ralpho, Sir too long, Three years it off and on, has hung —

Quoth he, I meant what time o' th' day 'tis. Quoth Ralpho, between seven and eight 'tis. Why then (quoth Whachum) my small Art Tells me, the Dame has a hard Heart, Or great Estate—Quoth Ralph, a Joynter, Which makes him have so hot a mind t' her. Mean while the Knight was making water, Before he fell upon the matter; Which having done, the Wizard steps in, To give him a suitable Reception; But 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, To whisper in the Conj'rers ear. Which he prevented thus: What was't, Quoth he, that I was saying last,

Before these Gentlemen arriv'd? Quoth Whachum, Venus you retriv'd, In opposition with Mars, And no benigne friendly Stars T' allay th' effect. Quoth Wizard, So! In Virgo? Ha! quoth Whachum, No. Has Saturn nothing to do in't? One tenth of's Circle to a minute. 'Tis well, quoth he—Sir you'l excuse This rudeness, I am forced to use, It is a Scheme, and face of Heaven As the Aspects are dispos'd, this Even, I was contemplating upon, When you arriv'd: but now I've done. Quoth Hudibras, If I appear Unseasonable in coming here At such a time, to interrupt Your Speculations, which I hop'd

Assistance from, and come to use, 'Tis fit that I ask your excuse. By no means, Sir, Quoth Sidrophel, The Stars your coming did foretel: I did expect you here, and know, Before you speak your bus'ness too. Quoth Hudibras, Make that appear, And I shall credit whatsoe'er You tell me after on your word, Howe're unlikely, or absurd. You are in Love, Sir, with a Widow, Quoth he, that does not greatly heed you; And three years has rid your Wit And Passion without drawing Bit: And now your bus'ness is, to know If you shall carry her, or no. Quoth Hudibras, you're in the right, But how the Devil you come by't,

I cann't imagine; for the Stars I'm sure, can tell no more than a Horse, Nor can their Aspects (though you pore Your Eyes out on' em) tell you more Than the Oracle of Sive and Sheers, That turns as certain as the Spheres; But if the Devil's of your Counsel, Much may be done, my noble Donzel, And 'tis on this account I come, To know from you my fatal Doom. Quoth Sidrophel, If you suppose, Sir Knight, that I am one of those, I might suspect and take the Alarm, Your bus'ness is but to inform: But if it be, 'tis ne'er the near, You have a wrong sow by the Ear, For I assure you, for my part, I only deal by Rules of Art,

Such as are lawful, and judge by Conclusions of Astrology: But for the Devil, know nothing by him, But only this, that I defie him. Quoth he, Whatever others deem ye I understand your Metonymie; Your words of second hand intention, When things by wrongful names you mention; The Mystick sense of all your Terms, That are indeed but Magick Charms, To raise the Devil, and mean one thing, And that is, down-right Conjuring: And in its self more warrantable, Than Cheat, or Canting to a Rabble, Or putting Tricks upon the Moon, Which by confederacy are done. Your Ancient Conjurers were wont To make her from her Sphere dismount,

And to their Incantations stoop, They scorn'd to pore through Telescope, Or idly play at bo-peep with her, To find out cloudy, or fair weather, Which every Almanack can tell, Perhaps, as learnedly, and well, As you your self— Then friend I doubt You go the farthest way about. Your Modern Indian Magician Makes but a hole i'th' Earth to piss in, And streit resolves all Questions by't, And seldom fails to be i'th' right. The Rosy-crucian way's more sure, To bring the Devil to the Lure; Each of 'em has a sev'ral Gin, To catch Intelligences in. Some by the Nose with fumes trappan 'um, As Dunstan did the Devil's Grannum.

Others with Characters and Words, Catch'em as Men in Nets do Birds. And some with Symbols, Signs and Tricks, Engarv'd in Planetary Nicks, With their own influences, will fetch 'em, Down from their Orbs, arrest and catch'em; Make'em depose, and answer to All Questions e'er they let him go. Bumbastus, kept a Devil's Bird Shut in the Pummel of his Sword, That taught him all the cunning Pranks, Of past and future Mountebanks. Kelly did all his Feats upon The Devil's Looking-Glass, a Stone, Where playing with him at Bo-peep, He solv'd all Problems ne're so deep. Agrippa kept a Stygian-pug, I' th' garb and habit of a Dog,

That was his Tutor; and the Curr Read to th' occult Philosopher, And taught him subtly to maintain All other Sciences are vain. To this, quoth Sidrophello, Sir, Agrippa was no Conjurer, Nor Paracelsus, no nor Behman; Nor was the Dog a Cacodoemon, But a true Dog, that would shew tricks For th' Emperor, and leap o're sticks; Would fetch and carry, was more civil, Than other Dogs, but yet no Devil; And whatsoe'er he's said to do, He went the self-same way we go. As for the Rosie-cross Philosophers, Whom you will have to be but Sorcerers; What they pretend to, is no more, Than Trismegistus did before,

Pythagoras, old Zoroaster, And Appollonius their Master; To whom they do confess I ow, All that they do, and all they know. Quoth Hudibras, Alas what is't to us, Whether 'twere said by Trismegistus: If it be nonsence, false, or mystick, Or not intelligible, or sophistick. 'Tis not Antiquity, nor Author, That makes truth truth, although time's daughter; 'Twas he that put her in the Pit, Before he pull'd her out of it. And as he eats his Sons, just so He feeds upon his Daughters too. Nor do's it follow, cause a Herald Can make a Gentleman scarce a year old, To be descended of a Race, Of ancient Kings in a small space;

That we should all Opinion hold Authentick, that we can make old. Quoth Sidrophel, It is no part Of prudence, to cry down an Art; And what it may perform, deny Because you understand not why. (As Averrhois play'd but mean trick, To damn our whole Art for Excentrick) For 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 Relate miraculous presages, Of strange turns in the World's affairs, ••oreseen b' Astrologers, Soothsayers, ••haldeans, Learn'd Genethliacks, And some that have writ Almanacks?

The Median Emp'rour dream't his Daughter, Had pist all Asia under water, And that a Vine, sprung from her hanches, O'erspread his Empire, with its branches; And did not Soothsayers expound it, As after by th' event he found it? When Caesar in the Senate fell, Did not the Sun eclips'd foretel, And in resentment of his slaughter, Look'd pale for almost a year after? Augustus having, b' oversight, Put on his left Shoe, 'fore his right, Had like to have been Slain that day, By Soldiers mutining for pay. Are there not myriads of this sort, Which Stories of all times report? Is it not ominous in all Countreys, When Crows and Ravens croak upon Trees?

The Roman Senate, when within The City-walls an Owl was seen; Did cause their Clergy with Lustrations; (Our Synod calls Humiliations,) The round-fac'd Prodigy t' avert From doing Town or Country hurt. And if an Owl have so much pow'r, Why should not Planets have much more? That in a Region, far above Inferior Fowls o' th' Air, move, And should see farther, and fore-know, More then their Augury below: Though that once serv'd the Polity Of mighty States to govern by; And this is that we take in hand, By pow'rful Art to understand. Which, how we have perform'd, all Ages Can speak th' Events of our presages,

Have we not lately in the Moon Found a new World to th' Old unknown? Discover'd Sea and Land, Columbus And Magell••n could never compass? Made Mountains with our Tubes appear, And Cattle gazing on 'em there? Quoth Hudibrass, You lie so ope, That I, without a Telescope, Can find your tricks out, and desery Where you tell truth, and where you lie. For Anaxagoras long agon, Saw Hills, as well as you i' th' Moon; And held the Sun was but a piece Of Red-hot-Ir'n as big as Greece; Believ'd the Heavens were made of Stone, Because the Sun had voided one; And rather than he would recant Th' Opinion, suffer'd Banishment▪

But what, alas, what is't to us, Whether i'th' Moon, men thus or thus, Do 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? What can our Travellers bring home, That is not to be learnt at Rome? What Politicks, or strange Opinions, That are not in our own Dominions? What Science can be brought from thence, In which we do not here Commence? What Revelations, or Religions, That are not in our Native Regions? Are sweating Lanthorns, or Screen-Fans Made better there, than th'are in France? Or do they teach to sing and play O' th' Gittar there a newer way?

Can they make Plays there, that shall fit The Publick Humor with less Wit? Write wittier Dances, quainter Shows, Or fight with more ingenious Blows? Or does the Man i'th' Moon look big, And wear a huger Periwig, Shew in his Gate, or Face, more tricks Than our own Native Lunaticks? But if w' out-do him here at home, What good of your design can come? As wind i' th' Hypochondrias pent Is but a blast if downward sent; But if it upwards chance to fly, Becomes new Light and Prophecy: So when our Speculations tend, Above their just and useful end, Although they promise strange and great, Discoveries of things far fet,

They are but idle Dreams and Fancies, And savor strongly of the Ganzas, Tell me but what's the nat'ral cause, Why on a Sign no Painter draws The Full-Moon ever, but the Half, Resolve that with your Jacobs-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. At this deep Sidrophel look'd wise, And staring round with Owl-like Eies, He put his face into a posture Of Sapience, and began to bluster; For having three times shook his head To 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: And being then upon Petrol, With noise alone beat of the Gaul. Or those Athenian Sceptick Owls, That will not credit their own Souls; Or any Science understand, Beyond the reach of Eye, or Hand: But meas'ring all things by their own Knowledge, hold, Nothing's to be known. Those whole-sale Criticks, that in Coffee-Houses, cry down all Philosophy. And will not know, upon what ground In Nature, we our doctrine found; Although with pregnant evidence, We can demonstrate it to sence. As I just now have done to you, Foretelling what you came to know,

Were the Stars only made to light Robbers and Burglaries by night? To wait on Drunkards, Thieves, Gold-finders, And Lovers solacing behind Doors? Or giving one another Pledges? Of Mrtrimony under Hedges? Or Witches Simpling, and on Gibbets Cutting from Malefactors snippets? Or from the Pillory tips of Ears Of Rebel-Saints, and Perjurers? Only to stand by and look on, But not know what is said or done? Is there a Constellation there, That was not born and bred up here? And therefore cannot be to learn, In any inferior Concern. Were they not, during all their lives, Most of'm Pirats, Whores, and Thieves?

And is it like they have not still In their old Practises some skill? Is there a Planet that by Birth Does not derive its House from Earth? And therefore probably must know What is, and hath been done below? Who made the Ballance, or whence came The Bull, the Lion, and the Ram? Did not we here, the Argo rigg Make Berenice's Periwig? Whose Liv'ry does the Coachman wear? Or who made Cassiopoea's Chair? And therefore as they came from hence, With us may hold Intelligence. Plato deyn'd, the World can be Govern'd without Geometry, (For Mony b'ing the common Scale Of things by measure, weight, and tale;

In all th' affairs of Church and State, 'Tis both the Ballance and the Weight:) Then much less can it be without Divine Astrology made out, That puts the other down in worth, As far as Heaven's above Earth. The reasons (quoth the Knight) I grant Are something more significant Than any that the Learned use, Upon this subject to produce; And yet, th' are far from satisfactory T' establish and keep up your Factory. The Egyptians say, the Sun has twice Shifted 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.

Some hold, the Heavens, like a Top, Are kept by Circulation up; And 'twere not for their wheeling round, They'd instantly fall to the ground: As sage Empedocles of old, And from him Modern Authors old. Plato believ'd the Sun and Moon, Below all other Planets run. Some Mercury, some Venus seat Above the Sun himself in height. 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 'Bove Fifty thousand miles from home▪ Swore 'twas a most notorious Flam, And he that had so little Shame

To vent such Fopperies abroad, Deserv'd to have his Rump well claw'd; Which Monsieur Bodin hearing: swore That he deserv'd the Rod much more, That durst upon a truth give doom, He knew less then the Pope of Rome. Cardan believ'd, Great States depend Upon the tip o' th' Bears Tails 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. Some say, the Zodiack-Constellations Have long since chang'd their antique Stations Above a Sign; and prove the same, ••n Taurus now, once in the Ram; Affirm the Trigon chop'd and chang'd, The Watry with the Fiery rang'd;

Then how can their effects still hold To be the same they were of old. This, though the Art were true, would make Our Modern Soothsayers mistake; And 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, For want of Accidence and Latine. Like Idus and Calendae Englisht The Quarter-days, by skilful Linguist, And yet with Canting, Slight, and Cheat 'Twill serve their turn to do the seat; Make Fools believe in their fore-seeing Of things before they are in Being; To swallow Gudgeons ere th' are catch'd, And count their Chickens ere th' are hatch'd,

Make them the Constellations prompt, ••nd give 'em back their own accompt: ••ut still the best to him that gives ••he best price for't, or best believes. ••ome Towns and Cities, some, for brevity, ••ave cast the Versal World's Nativity; ••nd made the Infant-Stars confess, ••ike Fools or Children, what they please: ••ome calculate the hidden fates ••f Monkeys, Puppy-Dogs, and Cats, ••ome Running Nags, and Fighting-Cocks; ••ome Love, Trade, Law-Suits, and the Pox; ••ome take a measure of the lives ••f Fathers, Mothers, Husbands, Wives, ••ake Opposition, Trine, and Quartile; ••ell who is barren, and who fertile, ••s if the Planet's first aspect ••he tender Infant did infect

In Soul and Body, and instill All future good, and future ill: Which, in their dark fatalities lurking, At destin'd Periods fall a working; And break out like the hidden seeds Of long diseases into deeds, In Friendships, Enmities and strife, And all th' emergences of Life: No sooner does he peep into, The 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, Is Cuckolded, and breaks or Thrives. There's but twinckling of a Star Between a Man of Peace and War, A Thief and Justice, Fool and Knave, A huffing Officer and a Slave,

A crafty Lawyer and Pick-pocket, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 great Philosopher and a Block-head, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 formal Preacher and Player, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 learn'd Physitian and Man-slayer. ••s if Men from the Stars did suck ••ld-Age, Diseases, and ill-luck, ••it, Folly, Honor, Virtue, Vice, ••rade, Travel, Women, Claps, and Dice; ••nd draw with the first Air they breath, Battel, and Murther, sudden Death, ••re not these fine Commodities, ••o be imported from the Skies? ••nd vended here among the Rable, ••or staple Goods, and warrantable? ••ike Money by the Druids borrow'd, •• th' other World to be restor'd. Quoth Sidrophel, To let you know You wrong the Art and Artists too:

Since Arguments are lost on those That do our Principles oppose; I will (althougth I've don't before) Demonstrate to your sense once more, And draw a Figure that shall tell you What you perhaps forget, befel you; By way of Horary inspection, Which some account our worst erection. With that, He Circles draws, and Squares With Cyphers, Astral Characters; Then looks 'em o'er, to understand 'em, Although set down Hab-nab, at random. Quoth he, This Scheme o'th' Heavens set Discovers how in fight you met At Kingston with a Maypole Idol, And that y'were bang'd both back and side well: And though you overcame the Bear, The Dogs beat you at Brentford Fair;

Where sturdy Butcher broke your Noddle, And handl'd you like a Fop-doodle. Quoth Hudibras, I now perceive You are no Conj'rer, b' your leave, That Paultry story is untrue, And forg'd to cheat such Gulls as you. Not true? quoth he, How e'er you vapor, I can, what I affirm, make appear; Whachum shall justifie't to your face, And prove he was upon the place: He play'd the Saltintbanco's part, Transform'd t' a Frenchman by my Art, He stole your Cloak, and pick'd your Pocket, Chews'd, and Caldes'd ye like a Block-head: And what you lost I can produce If you deny it, here i' th' house. Quoth Hudibras, I do believe, That Argument's Demonstrative;

Ralpho, bear witness, and go fetch us A Constable to seize the Wretches: For though th' are both false Knaves and Cheats, Impostors, Juglers, Counterfets, I'll make them serve for perpendiculars, As true, as e'er were us'd by Brick-layers; They're guilty by their own Confessions, Of Felony; and at the Sessions Upon a Bench I will so handle 'em, That the Vibration of this Pendulum Shall make all Taylors Yards, of one Unanimous opinion: A thing he long has vapour'd of, But now shall make out it by proof. Quoth Sidrophel, I do not doubt, To find friends, that will bear me out: Nor have I hazarded my Art, And Neck, so long on the States part,

To be expos'd i' th' end to suffer, By which a Braghadocio Huffer. Huffer, quoth Hudibras, This Sword Shall down thy false throat, Cram that word, Ralpho, make haste, and call an Officer, To apprehend this Stygian Sophister; Mean while I'll hold 'em at a Bay, Lest he and Whachum run away. But Sidrophel, who from th' Aspect Of Hudibras, did now erect, A Figure worse portending far, Than that of most malignant Star: Believ'd it now the fittest moment, To 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 Dore, an Iron Lance,

That many a sturdy Limb had gor'd, And Legs, and Loyns, and Shoulders bord. He snatch'd it up, and made a Pass, To make his way through Hudibras. Whachum had a Fire-Fork, With 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, The weapon from his gripe he wrung, And laid him on the earth along. Whachum his Seacole-Prong threw by, And basely turn'd his back to fly. But Hudibras gave him a twitch As quich as Lightning in the Breech. Just in the place, where Honor's lodg'd, As wise Philosophers have judg'd;

Because a kick in that part more Hurts Honor, than deep wounds before. Quoth Hudibras, the Stars determine. You are my Prisoners, base Vermine. Could they not tell you so, as well As what I came to know, foretel? By this, what Cheats you are, we find, That in your own Concerns are blind: Your Lives are now at my dispose, To be redeem'd by fine or blows: But who his Honor would defile, To take, or fell two lives so vile; I'll give you Quarter, but your Pillage, The Conqu'ring Warrier's Crop and Tillage, Which with his Sword he reaps, and plows; That mine, the Law of Arms allows. This said, in haste he fell To romaging of Sidrophel.

First, He expounded both his Pockets, And found a Watch with Rings and Lockets, Which had been left with him, t' erect A Figure for, and so detect. A Copper-Plate, with Almanacks Engrav'd upon't, with other knacks, Of Booker's, Lillie's, Sarah Jimmers; And Blank-Schemes to discover Nimmers; A Moon-Dial, with Napier's bones, And several Constellation-stones, Engrav'd in Planetary hours, That over Mortals had strange powers To make 'em thrive in Law, or Trade; And stab, or poyson, to evade; In 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, To pay for curing of his Rump. But Sidrophel, as fulls of tricks, As Rota-men of Politicks, Streight cast about to over-reach Th' unwary Conqu'ror with a fetch, And make him glad, (at least) to quit His Victory, and fly the Pit, Before the Secular Prince of Darkness Arriv'd to seize upon his Carkass. And, as a Fox, with hot pursuit, Chac'd through a Warren, cast about To save his credit, and among Dead Vermin on a Gallows hung; And while the Dogs ran underneath, Escap'd (by counterfeiting Death) Not out of Cunning, but a Train Of Atoms justling in his Brain,

As learn'd Philosophers give out: So Sidrophello cast about, And fell to's wonted Trade again, To feign himself in earnest slain, First▪ stretch'd out one leg, then another, And seeming in his Breast to smother, A broken Sigh; Quoth he, Where am I, Alive or Dead? Or which way came I Through so immense a space so soon? But now, I thought my self i' th' Moon; And that a Monster with huge Wiskers, More formidable than a Switzers, My body through and through had dril'd, And Whachum by my side, had kill'd, Had cross examin'd both our Hose, And plunder'd all we had to lose; Look there he is, I see him now, And feel the place I am run through

And there lies Whachum by my side, Stone-dead, and in his own blood dy'd. Oh! Oh! with that he fetch'd a Grone, And fell again into a swoun. Shut both his Eies, and stopt his Breath, And, to the Life, out acted-Death. That Hadibras, to all appearing, Believ'd him to be dead as Herring. He held it now no longer safe, To tarry the return of Ralph; But rather leave him in the Lurch; Thought he, he has abus'd our Church, Refus'd to give himself one firk, To carry on the Publick work. Despis'd our Synod-men like Durt. And made their Discipline his sport; Divulg'd the secrets of their Classes, And their Conventions prov'd High Places;

Disparag'd their Tith-Pigs, as Pagan, And set at nought their Cheese and Bacon; Rail'd at their Covenant, and jear'd Their rev'rend Parsons to my Beard, For all which Scandals to be quit, At once, this Juncture falls out fit, I'll make him henceforth, to beware, And tempt my fury, if he dare: He must (at least) hold up his hand, By twelve Free-holders to be scan'd, Who by their skill in Palmistry, Will quickly read his Destiny; And make him glad to read his Lesson, Or take a turn for't at the Session: Unless his Light and Gifts prove truer, Than ever yet they did, I'm sure; For if he scape with Whipping now, 'Tis more than he can hope to do,

And that will disingage my Conscience, Of th' Obligation, in his own sense. I'll make him now by force abide, What he by gentle means deny'd, To give my Honor satisfaction, And right the Brethren in the Action. This being resolv'd with equal speed, And Conduct, he approach'd his Steed; And with Activity unwont, Essay'd the lofty Beast to mount; Which once atchiev'd, he spurr'd his Palfrey, To get from th' Enemy, and Ralph, free; Left Danger, Fears, and Foes behind, And beat, at least three lengths, the Wind.