Amen, quoth she, then turn'd about,
And bid her squire let him out.

But ere an artist could be found
T'undo the charms, another bound,
The sun grew low, and left the skies,
Put down, some write, by ladies eyes;
The moon pull'd off her veil of light,
That hides her face by day from sight,
(Mysterious veil, of brightness made,
That's both her lustre and her shade,)
And in the lanthorn of the night,
With shining horns hung out her light;
For darkness is the proper sphere,
Where all false glories use t'appear.
The twinkling stars began to muster,
And glitter with their borrow'd lustre ;
While sleep the weary'd world reliev❜d,
By counterfeiting death reviv'd.

His whipping penance till the morn,
Our vot❜ry thought it best t' adjourn,
And not to carry on a work

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905

910

915

Of such importance in the dark,

920

With erring haste, but rather stay,

And do't in th' open face of day;
And, in the mean time, go in quest
Of next retreat to take his rest.

1

CANTO II.

THE ARGUMENT.

The knight and squire in hot dispute,
Within an ace of falling out,

Are parted with a sudden fright
Of strange alarm, and stranger sight;
With which adventuring to stickle,
They're sent away in nasty pickle.

THE sun had long since, in the lap
Of Thetis, taken out his nap,
And like a lobster boil'd, the morn

From black to red began to turn;

When Hudibras, whom thoughts and aking, 'Twixt sleeping kept all night, and waking,

Began to rub his drowsy eyes,

And from his couch prepar'd to rise,

Resolving to dispatch the deed

He vow'd to do, with trusty speed.

But first, with knocking loud, and bawling,
He rous'd the squire, in truckle tolling:

And, after many circumstances,

Which vulgar authors in romances

Do use to spend their time and wits on,
To make impertinent description,

29

35

40

They got, with much ado, to horse,
And to the castle bent their course,
In which he to the dame before
To suffer whipping duly swore:

Where now arriv'd, and half unharnest,
To carry on the work, in earnest,

45

50

He stopp'd, and paus'd upon the sudden,
And with a serious forehead plodding,

Sprung a new scruple in his head,

Which first he scratch'd, and after said:

Whether it be direct infringing

55

An oath, if I should wave this swinging,

And what I've sworn to bear, forbear,
And so b'equivocation swear;

Or whether't be a lesser sin

To be forsworn, than act the thing,

60

Are deep and subtil points, which must,

T'inform my conscience, be discust;

In which to err a tittle, may

To errors infinite make way:
And therefore I desire to know

Thy judgment, ere we farther go.

Quoth Ralpho, Since you do injoin't,

I shall enlarge upon the point;

65

64, 65. These lines refer to the moon, under the idea of her being, as considered by the ancients, a planet.

And for my own part, do not doubt
Th' affirmative may be made out.

But first, to state the case aright,

For best advantage of our light;
And thus 'tis: Whether't be a sin
To claw and curry your own skin,
Greater, or less, than to forbear,
And that you are forsworn, forswear.
But first, o' th' first: the inward man,
And outward, like a clan and clan,
Have always been at daggers-drawing,
And one another clapper-clawing:
Not that they really cuff, or fence,
But in a spiritual mystic sense;

Which to mistake, and make 'em squabble,
In literal fray's abominable:

This therefore may be justly reckon'd
A heinous sin. Now to the second,
That saints may claim a dispensation
To swear and forswear, on occasion,
I doubt not, but it will appear

With pregnant light. The point is clear.

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75

80

101

105

104. The long tirades upon oath contained in this canto, and in other parts of the Poem, have relation, as well as the subject mentioned in the concluding note on the first canto of this second part, to matters which I reserve.

Oaths are but words, and words but wind;
Too feeble implements to bind;

And hold with deeds proportion, so

As shadows to a substance do.

110

Is't not ridiculous and nonsense,

247

A saint should be a slave to conscience?

That ought to be above such fancies,
As far as above ordinances.

She's of the wicked, as I guess,

B'her looks, her language, and her dress:
And though, like constables, we search
For false wares one another's church:
Yet all of us hold this for true,
No faith is to the wicked due;
For truth is precious and divine,
Too rich a pearl for carnal swine.
Quoth Hudibras, All this is true,
Yet 'tis not fit that all men knew
Those mysteries and revelations ;
And therefore topical evasions

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255

260

Of subtil turns and shifts of sense,

Serve best with th' wicked for pretence,

Such as the learned Jesuits use,

265

And Presbyterians, for excuse

251. The omitted lines just preceding these, would

shew that Ralph is speaking of the widow.