When hard words, jealousies, and fears
Set folks together by the ears;
When gospel-trumpeter, surrounded
With long-car'd rout, to battle sounded;
And pulpit, drum ecclesiastic,

Was beat with fist instead of a stick ;'
Then did Sir Knight2 abandon dwelling,
And out he rode a-colonelling.

A wight he was, whose very sight would
Entitle him mirror of knighthood,
That never bow'd his stubborn knee3
To any thing but chivalry,

Nor put up blow, but that which laid
Right worshipful on shoulder-blade.
But here some authors make a doubt
Whether he were more wise or stout;
Some hold the one, and some the other,
But, howsoe'er they make a pother,
The difference was so small, his brain
Outweigh'd his rage but half a grain;
Which made some take him for a tool
That knaves do work with, call'd a fool:
We grant, although he had much wit,
H' was very shy of using it,
As being loath to wear it out,
And therefore bore it not about;
Unless on holidays or so,

As men their best apparel do.

Beside, 'tis known he could speak Greek

As naturally as pigs squeak;

That Latin was no more difficile 4

Than to a blackbird 'tis to whistle.

HIS LOGIC.

He was in logic a great critic,
Profoundly skill'd in analytic:
He could distinguish, and divide

A hair 'twixt south and south-west side;
On either which he would dispute,
Confute, change hands, and still confute:
He'd undertake to prove, by force
Of argument, a man's no horse;
He'd prove a buzzard is no fowl,
And that a lord may be an owl;
A calf an alderman, a goose a justice,
And rooks committee-men and trustees.
He'd run in debt by disputation,

And pay with ratiocination:

1 The speaking of a stick as one word, with the stress upon a, heightens the burlesque, and con quently is rather an excellency than a fault.

2 Butler's hero, Sir Samuel Luke, was not only a colonel in the parliament army, but also Scout. master-General in the counties of Bedford, Surrey, &c.

8 That is, he kneeled to the king when he knighted him, but seldom upon any other occasion.

4 Sancho Panza says of Don Quixote, "that he is a main scolard, Latins it hugely, and talks his on mother tongue as well as one of your l'arsity Doctora

All this by syllogism true,

In mood and figure he would do.
For rhetoric, he could not ope

His mouth, but out there flew a trope:
And when he happen'd to break off
In th' middle of his speech, or cough,
H' had hard words ready to show why,
And tell what rules he did it by;
Else when with greatest art he spoke,
You'd think he talk'd like other folk;
For all a rhetorician's rules

Teach nothing but to name his tools.

But when he pleased to show't, his speech,
In loftiness of sound, was rich;

A Babylonish dialect,

Which learned pedants much affect;
It was a party-color'd dress

Of patch'd and piebald languages;
'Twas English cut on Greek and Latin,
Like fustian heretofore on satin;

It had an odd promiscuous tone,

As if h' had talk'd three parts in one;

Which made some think, when he id gabble
Th' had heard three laborers of Bavel,

Or Cerberus himself pronounce

A leash of languages at once.

HIS MATHEMATICS.

In Mathematics he was greater
Than Tycho Brahe1 or Erra Pater;"
For he, by geometric scale,

Could take the size of pots of ale;3
Resolved by sines and tangents straight
If bread or butter wanted weight;
And wisely tell what hour o' th' day
The clock does strike, by algebra.

HIS METAPHYSICS.

Beside, he was a shrewd philosopher,
And had read every text and gloss over;
Whate'er the crabbed'st author hath,
He understood b' implicit faith:
Whatever sceptic could inquire for,
For every why he had a wherefore;
Knew more than forty of them do,
As far as words and terms could go;
All which he understood by rote,
And, as occasion served, would quote;
No matter whether right or wrong;
They might be either said or sung.

1 Tycho Brahe was an eminent Danish mathematician.

2 By Erra Pater, it is thought that Butler alluded to one William Lilly, a famous astrologer of

those times.

As a justice of the peace, he had a right to inspect weights and measures.

His notions fitted things so well,

That which was which he could not tell,
But oftentimes mistook the one

For th' other, as great clerks have done.
He knew what's what,' and that's as high
As metaphysic wit can fly:

He could raise scruples dark and nice,
And after solve 'em in a trice;

As if divinity had catch'd

The itch, on purpose to be scratch'd;
Or, like a mountebank, did wound,
And stab herself with doubts profound,
Only to show with how small pain
The sores of Faith are cured again;
Although by woful proof we find
They always leave a scar behind.

HIS APPAREL.

His doublet was of sturdy buff,
And though not sword, yet cudgel-proof,
Whereby 'twas fitter for his use,
Who feared no blows but such as bruise.

His breeches were of rugged woollen,
And had been at the siege of Bullen;2
To old King Harry so well known,
Some writers held they were his own:
Though they were lined with many a piece
Of ammunition bread and cheese,
And fat black-puddings, proper food
For warriors that delight in blood:
For, as we said, he always chose
To carry victuals in his hose,
That often tempted rats and mice
The ammunition to surprise;
And when he put a hand but in
The one or t'other magazine,

They stoutly on defence on't stood,

And from the wounded foe drew blood.

Such are a few specimens of Butler's wit as displayed in his poetry. The same vein runs through his prose works, which were not published till a considerable time after his death. We can give but one specimen:

A SMALL POET

Is one that would fain make himself that which nature never meant him; like a fanatic that inspires himself with his own whimsies. He sets up haberdasher of small poetry, with a very small stock, and no credit. He believes it is invention enough to find out other men's wit; and whatsoever he lights upon, either in books or company, he makes bold with as his own.

This he

A ridicule on the senseless questions in the common systems of logic, as, quid est quid? whence came the common proverbial expression of he knows what's what, to denote a shrewd man.

Boulogne was besieged by King Henry VIII., July 14, 1544, and surrendered in September.

may

puts together so untowardly, that you may perceive his own wit has the rickets, by the swelling disproportion of the joints. You know his wit not to be natural, 'tis so unquiet and troublesome in him: for as those that have money but seldom are always shaking their pockets when they have it, so does he, when he thinks he has got something that will make him appear. He is a perpetual talker; and you may know by the freedom of his discourse that he came lightly by it, as thieves spend freely what they get. He is like an Italian thief, that never robs but he murders, to prevent discovery; so sure is he to cry down the man from whom he purloins, that his petty larceny of wit may pass unsuspected. He appears so over-concerned in all men's wits, as if they were but disparagements of his own; and cries down all they do, as if they were encroachments upon him. He takes jests from the owners and breaks them, as justices do false weights, and pots that want measure. When he meets with any thing that is very good, he changes it into small money, like three groats for a shilling, to serve several occasions. He disclaims study, pretends to take things in motion, and to shoot flying, which appears to be very true, by his often missing of his mark. As for epithets, he always avoids those that are near akin to the sense. Such matches are unlawful, and not fit to be made by a Christian poet; and therefore all his care is to choose out such as will serve, like a wooden leg, to piece out a maimed verse that wants a foot or two, and if they will but rhyme now and then into the bargain, or run upon a letter, it is a work of supererogation. For similitudes he likes the hardest and most obscure best; for as ladies wear black patches to make their complexions seem fairer than they are, so when an illustration is more obscure than the sense that went before it, it must of necessity make it appear clearer than it did; for contraries are best sort off with contraries. He has found out a new set of poetical Georgics-a trick of sowing wit like clover-grass on barren subjects, which would yield nothing before. This is very useful for the times, wherein, some men say, there is no room left for new invention. He will take three grains of wit, like the elixir, and, projecting it upon the iron age, turn it immediately into gold. All the business of mankind has presently vanished, the whole world has kept holiday; there has been no men but heroes and poets, no women but nymphs and shepherdesses; trees have borne fritters, and rivers flowed plum-porridge. When he writes, he commonly steers the sense of his lines by the rhyme that is at the end of them, as butchers do calves by the tail. For when he has made one line, which is easy enough, and has found out some sturdy hard word that wil! but rhyme, he will hammer the sense upon it, like a piece of hot iron upon an anvil, into what form he pleases. There is no art

in the world so rich in terms as poetry; a whole dictionary is scarce able to contain them; for there is hardly a pond, a sheepwalk, or a gravel-pit in all Greece, but the ancient name of it is become a term of art in poetry. By this means, small poets have such a stock of able hard words lying by them, as dryades, hama dryades, aönides, fauni, nymphæ, sylvani, &c., that signify nothing at all; and such a world of pedantic terms of the same kind, as may serve to furnish all the new inventions and "tho rough reformations" that can happen between this and Plato's great year.

SIR THOMAS BROWNE. 1605-1682.

ONE of the most original as well as learned men of the reign of Charles [I., was Sir Thomas Browne. He was born in London in 1605, and in 1623 ne entered Oxford, intending to devote himself to the study of medicine. Having taken his degree, he practised physic for some time in Oxfordshire. He then went abroad, and travelled in France, Italy, and Holland; and at Leyden he took the degree of doctor of physic. Returning to England in 1634, he settled at Norwich, and on account of his great reputation as a phy sician, he was, a few years after, made honorary fellow of the Royal College of Physicians in London. He was knighted in 1671 by Charles II., in his progress through Norwich, with singular marks of consideration; and died

in 1682.

The following are the principal productions of Sir Thomas Browne:1. The Religio Medici, or the Religion of a Physician." It is divided into two parts; the first containing his confession of faith, that is, all his curious reli. gious opinions and feelings; the second, a confession of charity; that is, all his human feelings.' 2. His "Pseudodoxia Epidemica," more generally known by the title of "Browne's Vulgar Errors." This is the most popular of all his works. He treats his subject very methodically, dividing the whole into seven books, considering the various errors as they arise from minerals and vegetables, animals, man, pictures, geography, philosophy, and history. Notwithstanding the singularity and quaintness which pervade this work, it is one that displays great learning and penetration, and is very interesting. 3. Another production was entitled " Hydriotaphia, Urn-Burial; or a Discourse of the Sepulchral Urns lately found in Norfolk." "In this work," says an able critic," Sir Thomas Browne hath dared to take the grave itself for his theme. He deals not with death as a shadow, but as a substantial reality. He dwels not on it as a mere cessation of life-he treats it not as a terrible negation-but enters on its discussion as a state with its own solemnities and pomps."

66

Dr. Johnson has described Browne's style with much critical acumen. “It is," says he, "vigorous, but rugged; it is learned, but pedantic; it is deep, but

1 of this, Dr. Johnson, in his life of Browne, thus remarks: "The Religio Medici was no sooner published, than it excited the attention of the public by the novelty of paradoxes, the dignity of sentiment, the quick succession of images, the multitude of abstruse allusions, the subtlety of disquisi Son, and the strength of language."

For an interesting notice of this singular work, see Retrospective Review, 1. 84. Read, also, some remarks on our author in Hazlitt's “Age of Elizabeth."