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Are fit for music or for pudden;

A skilful leech is better far From whence men borrow ev'ry kind

Than half a hundred men of war; Of minstrelsy by string or wind.

So he appear'd, and by his skill, His grisly beard was long and thick,

No less than dint of sword, cou'd kill. With which he strung his fiddlestick;

The gallant Bruin march'd next him, For he to horse-tail scorn'd to owe

With visage formidably grim, For what on his own chin did grow.

And rugged as a Saracen, Chiron, the four-legg'd bard, had both

Or Turk of Mahomet's own kin, A beard and tail of his own growth;

Clad in a mantle della guerre And yet by authors ’tis averr’d,

Of rough impenetrable fur; He made use only of his beard.

And in his nose, like Indian king, In Staffordshire, where virtuous worth

He wore, for ornament, a ring; Does raise the minstrelsy, not birth,

About his neck a threefold gorget, Where bulls do choose the boldest king

As rough as trebled leathern target ; And ruler o'er the men of string,

Armed, as heralds, cant and langued, (As once in Persia, 'tis said,

Or, as the vulgar say, sharp-fanged:
Kings were proclaim'd by a horse that neigh’d) For as the teeth in beasts of prey
He, bravely vent'ring at a crown,

Are swords with which they fight in fray, By chance of war was beaten down,

So swords, in men of war, are teeth And wounded sore: his leg, then broke,

Which they do eat their victual with. Had got a deputy of oak;

He was by birth, some authors write, For when a shin in fight is cropt,

A Russian, some a Muscovite, The knee with one of timber's propt,

And ’mong the Cossacs had been bred, Esteein'd more honourable than the other,

Of whom we in diurnals read, And takes place, though the younger brother. That serve to fill up pages here, Next march'd brave Orsin, famous for

As with their bodies ditches there. Wise conduct, and success in war;

Scrimansky was his cousin-german, A skilful leader, stout, severe,

With whom he serv'd, and fed on vermin; Now Marshal to the champion Bear.

And when these fail'd, he'd suck his claws, With truncheon tipp'd with iron head,

And quarter himself upon his paws; The warrior to the lists he led,

And though his countrymen, the Huns, With solemn march, and stately pace,

Did stew their meat between their bums But far more grave and solemn face;

And th' horses' backs o'er which they straddle, Grave as the emperor of Pegu,

And ev'ry man ate up his saddle; Or Spanish potentate, Don Diego.

He was not half so nice as they, This leader was of knowledge great,

But ate it raw when 't came in 's way. Either for charge or for retreat:

He'd trac'd the countries far and near, He knew when to fall on pellmell,

More than Le Blanc the traveller, To fall back and retreat as well.

Who writes, he spous'd in India, Learn'd he was in med'cinal lore,

Of noble house, a lady gay, For by his side a pouch he wore,

And got on her a race of worthies Replete with strange hermetic powder,

As stout as any upon earth is. That wounds nine miles point-blank wou'd solder; Full many a fight for him between By skilful chemist, with great cost,

Talgol and Orsin oft had been, Extracted from a rotten post;

Each striving to deserve the crown But of a heav'nlier influence

Of a sav'd citizen ; the one Than that which mountebanks dispense;

To guard his Bear, the other fought Though by Promethean fire made,

To aid his Dog; both made more stout As they do quack that drive that trade.

By sev'ral spurs of neighbourhood, For as when slovens do amiss

Church-fellow-membership, and blood ; At other doors, by stool or piss,

But Talgol, mortal foe to cows, The learned write, a redhot spit

Never got aught of him but blows; B’ing prudently apply'd to it,

Blows hard and heavy, such as he Will convey mischief from the dung

Had lent, repaid with usury. Unto the part that did the wrong;

Yet Talgol was of courage stout, So this did healing, and as sure

And vanquish'd oft'ner than he fought; As that did mischief, this would cure.

Inur'd to labour, sweat, and toil, Thus virtuous Orsin was endu'd

And, like a champion, shone with oil: With learning, conduct, fortitude,

Right many a widow his keen blade, Incomparable; and as the prince

And many fatherless, had made; Of poets, Homer, sung long since,

He many a boar and huge dun cow

Did, like another Guy, o'erthrow;

As Joan of France, or English Mall: But Guy with him in fight compar'd,

Through perils both of wind and limb, Had like the boar or dun cow far'd:

Through thick and thin she followed him With greater troops of sheep h' had fought

In ev'ry adventure h' undertook, Than Ajax, or bold Don Quixote;

And never him or it forsook: And many a serpent of fell kind,

At breach of wall, or hedge surprise, With wings before and stings behind,

She shar'd i'th' hazard and the prize;
Subdu'd, as poets say, long agone

At beating quarters up, or forage,
Bold Sir George, Saint George, did the Dragon. Behav'd herself with matchless courage,
Nor engine, nor device polemic,

And laid about in fight more busily
Disease, nor doctor epidemic,

Than th’ Amazonian dame Penthesile. Though stor'd with deletery med'cines,

And though some critics here cry shame, (Which whosoever took is dead since)

And say our authors are to blame, E'er sent so vast a colony

That (spight of all philosophers To both the under worlds as he;

Who hold no females stout but bears, For he was of that noble trade

And heretofore did so abhor That demi-gods and heroes made,

That women should pretend to war, Slaughter, and knocking on the head,

They would not suffer the stout'st dame The trade to which they all were bred:

To swear by Hercules's name) And is, like others, glorious when

Make feeble ladies, in their works, 'Tis great and large, but base, if mean:

To fight like termagants and Turks; The former rides in triumph for it,

To lay their native arms aside, The latter in a two-wheel'd chariot,

Their modesty, and ride astride; For daring to profane a thing

To run atilt at men, and wield So sacred with vile bungling.

Their naked tools in open field; Next these the brave Magnano came,

As stout Armida, bold Thalestris, Magnano, great in martial fame;

And she that would have been the mistress Yet when with Orsin he wag'd fight,

Of Gondibert, but he had

grace, 'Tis sung he got but little by 't;

And rather took a country lass; Yet he was fierce as forest boar,

They say 'tis false without all sense, Whose spoils upon his back he wore,

But of pernicious consequence As thick as Ajax' sevenfold shield,

To government, which they suppose Which o'er his brazen arms he held;

Can never be upheld in prek; But brass was feeble to resist

Strip Nature naked to the skin, The fury of his armed fist ;

You'll find about her no such thing. Nor could the hardest iron hold out

It may be so, yet what we tell Against his blows, but they would through 't. Of Trulla that's improbable In magic he was deeply read,

Shall be depos’d by those have seen 't, As he that made the brazen-head;

Or, what’s as good, produc'd in print; Profoundly skill'd in the black art,

And if they will not take our word,
As English Merlin for his heart;

We'll prove it true upon record.
But far more skilful in the spheres,
Than he was at the sieve and shears.
He could transform himself in colour,

THE ADVENTURE OF THE RIDING, As like the Devil is the collier;

At this the Knight grew high in chafe, As like the hypocrites, in shew,

And, staring furiously on Ralph, Are to true saints, or crow to crow.

He trembled, and look'd pale with ire, Of warlike engines he was author,

Like ashes first, then red as fire. Devis’d for quick dispatch of slaughter:

Have I (quoth he) been ta'en in fight, The cannon, blunderbuss, and saker,

And for so many moons lain by 't, He was th’inventor of, and maker:

And when all other means did fail, The trumpet and the kettle-drum

Have been exchang’d for tubs of ale? Did both from his invention come:

Not but they thought me worth a ransom He was the first that e'er did teach

Much more consid'rable and handsome, To make, and how to stop a breach.

But for their own sakes, and for fear A lance he bore with iron pike,

They were not safe when I was there; Th' one half would thrust, the other strike;

Now to be baffled by a scouudrel, And when their forces he had join'd,

An upstart sect’ry, and a mongrel, He scorn'd to turn his parts behind.

Such as breed out of peccant humours He Trulla lov’d; Trulla, more bright

Of our own church, like wens or tumours, Than burnish'd armour of her knight;

And, like a maggot in a sore, A bold virago, stout and tall,

Wou'd that which gave it life devour;

It never shall be done or said:

Then bagpipes of the loudest drones, With that he seiz'd upon his blade;

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 is 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 bis 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 wrathful Squire into a fright;

He held reverst, the point turn'd downward: And though they stood prepar'd, 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 whilom 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 hoopisg of a tub.

In fit and proper equipages; But when the sight appudr'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, Wore a sow-gelder's flagellate,

That best describe those ancient shews; On which he blew as strong a levet,

And has observ'd all fit decorums As well-feed lawyer on his brev'ate,

We find describ'd by old historians:
When over one another's heads

For as the Roman conqueror,
They charge (three ranks at once) like Sweeds. That put an end to foreign war,
Next pans and kettles of all keys,
From trebles down to double base;

Ent'ring the town in triumph for it,
And after them upon a nag,

Bore a slave with him in his chariot ; That might pass for a forehand stag,

So this insulting female brave A Cornet rode, and on his staff

Carries, behind her here, a slave:
A smock display'd did proudly wave;

And as the ancients long ago,
When they in field defy'd the foe,

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 Grosted. 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 ʼmploy 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; To let our reader understand

Tell what her d'ameter to an inch is, What's useful of him beforehand.

And prove that she's not made of green cheese. He had been long t'wards mathematics,

It wou'd demonstrate, that the man in Optics, philosophy, and statics,

The moon's a sea Mediterranean; Magic, horoscopy, astrology,

And that it is no dog or bitch And was old dog at physiology;

That stands behind him at his breech, But as a dog that turns the spit

But a huge Caspian sea or lake, Bestirs himself, and plies his feet

With arms, which men for legs mistake; To dimb the wheel, but all in vain,

How large a gulf his tail composes, His own weight brings him down again,

And what a goodly bay his nose is; And still he's in the self-same place

How many German leagues by th’ scale Where at his setting out he was ;

Cape Snout’s from Promontory Tail. So in the circle of the arts

He made a planetary gin, Did be advance his nat'ral parts,

Which rats would run their own heads in,

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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;

le What bowling-stones, in running race

When men may eat and drink their fill,

ង់ atto 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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