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PART I. CANTO I.

Prolongers to enlighten'd stuff,←
He could deep mysteries unriddle,
As easily as thread a needle:
For as of vagabonds we say,

That they are ne'er beside their way,
Whate'er men speak by this new light,
Still they are sure to be i' th' right.
'Tis a dark lantern of the Spirit,

Which none see by but those that bear it;
A light that falls down from on high,

For spiritual trades to cozen by;
An ignis fatuus, that bewitches,

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And leads men into pools and ditches,

To make them dip themselves, and sound
For Christendom in dirty pond;

To dive like wild-fowl for salvation,
And fish to catch regeneration.
This light inspires and plays upon
The nose of saint, like bagpipe drone,
And speaks through hollow empty soul,
As through a trunk or whisp'ring hole,
Such language as no mortal ear

But spirit'al eaves-droppers can hear :
So Phoebus, or some friendly Muse,
Into small poets song infuse,

Which they at second-hand rehearse,
Through reed or bagpipe, verse for verse.
Thus Ralph became infallible

As three or four-legg'd oracle,
The ancient cup, or modern chair,
Spoke truth point blank, though unaware.
For mystic learning, wondrous able

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511 Alluding to Ralpho's religion, who was probably an Anabaptist or Dipper,

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Diseases, battles, inundations:
All this without th' eclipse o' th' sun,
Or dreadful comet, he hath done

By inward light, a way as good,

And easy to be understood;

But with more lucky hit than those

That use to make the stars depose,

Like Knights o' th' Post, and falsely charge
Upon themselves what others forge;

As if they were consenting to

All mischiefs in the world men do,

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Or, like the devil, did tempt and sway 'em
To rogueries, and then betray 'em.

They'll search a planet's house, to know

Who broke and robb'd a house below;
Examine Venus and the Moon,
Who stole a thimble or a spoon;
And though they nothing will confess,
Yet by their very looks can guess,
And tell what guilty aspect bodes,
Who stole, and who receiv'd the goods:
They'll question Mars, and, by his look,
Detect who 'twas that nimm'd a cloak ;
Make Mercury confess, and 'peach
Those thieves which he himself did teach.
They'll find i' th' physiognomies

O' th' planets, all men's destinies,

Like him that took the doctor's bill;
And swallow'd it instead o' th' pill;
Cast the nativity o' th' question,
And from positions to be guest on,
As sure as if they knew the moment
Of Native's birth, tell what will come on't,
They'll feel the pulses of the stars,

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PART I. CANTO I.

To find out agues, coughs, catarrhs,
And tell what crisis does divine

The rot in sheep, or mange in swine;
In men, what gives or cures the itch,
What makes them cuckolds, poor or rich;
What gains or loses, hangs or saves;

What makes men great, what fools or knaves,

But not what wise, for only' of those
The stars (they say) cannot dispose.
No more than ean the astrologians;

There they say right, and like true Trojans:
This Ralpho knew, and therefore took
The other course, of which we spoke.

Thus was th' accomplish'd Squire endu'd
With gifts and knowledge per'lous shrewd:
Never did trusty squire with knight,

Or knight with squire, e'er jump more right.
Their arms and equipage did fit,

As well as virtues, parts, and wit:
Their valours, too, were of a rate;
And out they sally'd at the gate.

Few miles on horseback had they jogged
But Fortune unto them turn'd dogged;
For they a sad adventure met,

Of which anon we mean to treat.
But ere we venture to unfold
Achievements so resolv'd and bold,
We should, as learned poets use,
Invoke th' assistance of some Muse,
However critics count it sillier
Than jugglers talking to familiar;
We think 'tis no great matter which,
They're all alike, yet we shall pitch
On one that fits our purpose most,

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Whom therefore thus do we accost.

Thou that with ale, or viler liquors, Didst inspire Withers, Pryn, and Vickars, And force them, though it was in spite

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To make men scribble without skill)
Canst make a poet, spite of Fate,
And teach all people to translate,
Though out of languages in which
They understand no part of speech;
Assist me but this once, I 'mplore,
And I shall trouble thee no more.

In western clime there is a town,

To those that dwell therein well known,

Therefore there needs no more be said here,

We unto them refer our reader;

For brevity is very good,

When w' are, or are not understood.

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665 Brentford, which is eight miles west from London, is here probably meant, as may be gathered from Part II. Cant. iii. v. 995, &c. where he tells the Knight what befell him there:

And though you overcame the Bear,
The dogs beat you at Brentford fair,

Where sturdy butchers broke your noddle.

To this town people did repair

On days of market or of fair,

And to crack'd fiddle and hoarse tabor,
In merriment did drudge and labour:

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687 This game is ushered into the Poem with more solemnity than those celebrated ones in Homer and Virgil. As the Poem is only adorned with this game, and the Riding Skimmington, so it was incumbent on the Poet to be very particular and full in the description: and may we not venture to affirm, they are exactly suitable to the nature of these adventures; and, consequently, to a Briton, preferable to those in Homer or Virgil.

689 690 Alluding to the bull-running at Tutbury in Staffordshire; where solemn proclamation was made by the Steward, before the bull was turned loose; "That all manner of persons give way to the bull, none being to come near him by forty foot, any way to hinder the minstrels, but to attend his or their own safety, every one at his peril." Dr. Plot's Staffordshire.'

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