Reprint of Edition of 1779.
ALEX. MURRAY AND SON, 30, QUEEN SQUARE, W.C.
Will be found unique and complete as to the Text, having been
CANTO I.-ARGUMENT.
Sir HUDIBRAS his passing worth,
His arms and equipage are shown,
Th' adventure of the bear and fiddle
The manner how he sally'd forth;
His horse's virtues, and his own.
Is sung, but breaks off in the middle.
WHEN civil dudgeon first grew high,
And men fell out they knew not why;
When hard words, jealousies, and fears _Set folks together by the ears,
And made them fight, like mad or drunk, For Dame Religion, as for punk,
Whose honesty they all durst swear for,
Tho' not a man of them knew wherefore;
When gospel-trumpeter, surrounded
With long-ear'd rout, to battle sounded;
And pulpit, drum ecclesiastic, Was beat with fist, instead of a stick :
Then did Sir Knight 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 knee
To any thing but chivalry;
Nor put up blow, but that which laid
Right Worshipful on shoulder-blade :
Chief of domestic knights and errant, Either for chartel or for warrant :
Great on the bench, great in the saddle,
That could as well bind o'er as swaddle :
Mighty he was at both of these, And styl❜d of war as well as peace.
(So some rats, of amphibious nature, Are either for the land or water.)
But here our 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 diff'rence 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.
For't has been held by many, that As Montaigne, playing with his cat,
Complains she thought him but an ass,
Much more she would Sir HUDIBRAS,
(For that's the name our valiant Knight To all his challenges did write) :
But they're mistaken very much,
We grant, altho' he had much wit,
As being loth to wear it out,
Unless on holidays, or so,
'Tis plain enough he was not such.
H' was very shy of using it; And therefore bore it not about, As men their best apparel do.
Beside, 'tis known he could speak Greek As naturally as pigs squeak; That Latin was no more difficile, Than to a blackbird 'tis to whistle: Being rich in both, he never scanted His bounty unto such as wanted: But much of either would afford To many, that had not one word. For Hebrew roots, altho' they're found
To flourish most in barren ground,
He had such plenty as suffic'd To make some think him circumcis'd : And truly so he was, perhaps, Not as a proselyte, but for claps. Profoundly skill'd in analytic :
He was in logic a great critic,
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
He'd prove a buzzard is no fowl,
Of argument, a man's no horse;
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.
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 shew 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
It was a party-colour'd dress
Teach nothing but to name his tools.
But, when he pleas'd to shew't, his speech In loftiness of sound was rich;
A Babylonish dialect,
Which learned pedants much affect;
Of patch'd and piebald languages:
'Twas English cut on Greek and Latin, Like fustian heretofore on sattin.
It had an odd promiscuous tone, As if h' had talk'd three parts in one;
Which made some think, when he did gabble,
Th' had heard three labourers of Babel,
Or Cerberus himself pronounce
This he as volubly would vent
And truly to support that charge,
For he could coin or counterfeit
A leash of languages at once.
As if his stock would ne'er be spent ;
He had supplies as vast and large.
New words, with little or no wit;
Words so debas'd and hard, no stone
Was hard enough to touch them on;
And, when with hasty noise he spoke 'em,
The ignorant for current took 'em ;
That had the orator, who once Did fill his mouth with pebble stones
When he harangu'd, but known his phrase,
He would have us'd no other ways.
In mathematics he was greater Than Tycho Brahe, or Erra Pater:
For he, by geometric scale,
Could take the size of pots of ale;
Resolve by sines and tagents, straight, If bread or butter wanted weight;
And wisely tell what hour o' th' day The clock does strike by algebra.
Beside he was a shrewd philosopher,
And had read ev'ry text and gloss over;
Whate'er the crabbed'st author hath, He understood b' implicit faith : Whatever sceptic cou'd enquire 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 serv'd, would quote ;
No matter whether right or wrong, They might be either said or sung.
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 could reduce all things to acts, And knew their natures by abstracts;
Where entity and quiddity,
The ghosts of defunct bodies, fly;
As metaphysic wit can fly. As he that hight Irrefragable; To name them all, another Dunce : And real ways beyond them all; As tough as learned Sorbonist ; That's empty when the moon is full;
Where truth in person does appear,
Like words congeal'd in northern air.
He knew what's what, and that's as high
In school-divinity as able
A second Thomas, or at once
Profound in all the nominal
For he a rope of sand could twist
And weave fine cobwebs, fit for scull
Such as take lodgings in a head
He cou'd raise scruples dark and nice
As if divinity had catch'd
That's to be let unfurnished, And after solve 'em in a trice, The itch, on purpose to be scratch'd ;
Or, like a mountebank, did wound
And stab herself with doubts profound,
They always leave a scar behind.
Could tell in what degree it lies;
Below the moon, or else above it.
Came from her closet in his side;
Only to show with how small pain The sores of faith are cur'd again;
Altho' by woful proof we find
He knew the seat of paradise,
And, as he was dispos'd, could prove
What Adam dreamt of, when his bride
Whither the devil tempted her
If either of them had a navel;
Whether the serpent, at the fall,
By a High Dutch interpreter ; Who first made music malleable; Had cloven feet, or none at all.
All this, without a gloss or comment, He could unriddle in a moment,
In proper terms, such as men smatter
When they throw out and miss the matter.
To match his learning and his wit :
For he was of that stubborn crew
To be the true church militant ;
The holy text of pike and gun;
Infallible artillery
For his religion, it was fit
'Twas Presbyterian true blue,
Of errant saints, whom all men grant
Such as do build their faith upon
Decide all controversies by
And prove their doctrine orthodox
Call fire and sword, and desolation,
Which always must be carried on,
As if religion were intended
By apostolic blows and knocks;
A godly thorough reformation,
And still be doing, never done;
For nothing else but to be mended.
A sect whose chief devotion lies
In odd perverse antipathies;
In falling out with that or this, And finding somewhat still amiss :
More peevish, cross, and splenetic, Than dog distract, or monkey sick.
That with more care keep holiday
The wrong, than others the right way :
Compound for sins they are inclin'd to,
By damning those they have no mind to.
Still so perverse and opposite, As if they worship'd God for spite.
The self-same thing they will abhor
Free-will they one way disavow,
All piety consists therein
One way, and long another for.
Another nothing else allow : In them, in other men all sin.
Rather than fail, they will defy That which they love most tenderly ;
|