Whachum had neither cross nor pile,
His plunder was not worth the while;
All which the conqueror did difcompt,
To pay for curing of his rump.
But Sidrophel, as full of tricks
As Rota-men of politicks,
Straight caft about, to over-reach

with a fetch,
Th' unwary conqueror
And make him glad, at least, to quit

His victory, and fly the pit,

Before the fecular prince of darkness
Arriv'd to feize upon his carcafe:
And as a fox, with hot pursuit
Chac'd through a warren, cafts about
To fave his credit, and among
Dead vermin on a gallows hung,
And while the dogs run underneath,
Efcap'd (by counterfeiting death)
Not out of cunning, but a train
Of atoms juftling in his brain,
As learn'd philofophers give out;
So Sidrophello cast about,
And fell to 's wonted trade again,
To feign himself in earnest slain :
First stretch'd out one leg, then another,
And, feeming in his breast to fmother
A broken figh; quoth he, Where am I?
· Alive, or dead? or which way came I
"Through fo immenfe a space fo foon?
But now I thought myself i' th' moon,

And that a monster, with huge whiskers,

More formidable than a Switzer's,

My body through and through had drill'd,

And Whachum by my fide had kill'd;
Had cross-examin'd both our hose,
And plunder'd all we had to lofe:
Look, there he is! I fee him now,
And feel the place I am run through:
And there lies Whachum by my fide

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Stone dead, and in his own blood dy❜d.
Oh! oh! with that he fetch'd a groan,

A fell again into a swoon,

Shut both his eyes, and ftopt his breath,

1145

And to the life out-acted death,

And made their Discipline his sport ;
Divulg'd the fecrets of their Claffes,

And their Conventions prov'd high-places;
Difparag'd their tythe-pigs, as Pagan,
And fet at nought their cheese and bacon;
Rail'd at their Covenant, and jeer'd
Their reverend Parfons, to my beard;
S 3

For all which fcandals to be quit
At once, this juncture falls out fit.
I'll make him henceforth to beware,
And tempt my fury if he dare:
He must at least hold up his hand,
By twelve freeholders to be scann'd,
Who, by their skill in palmistry,
Will quickly read his destiny,
And make him glad to read his leffon,
Or take a turn for 't at the Seffion,
Unless his light and gifts prove truer
Than ever yet they did, I 'm sure ;
For if he 'fcape with whipping now,
"Tis more than he can hope to do;

And that will difengage my Confcience
Of th' obligation, in his own fense:
I'll make him now by force abide
What he by gentle means deny'd,.
To give my honour fatisfaction,
And right the Brethren in the action.
This being refolv'd, with equal fpeed
And conduct he approach'd his steed,
And, with activity unwont,

Affay'd the lofty beaft to mount;

Which once atchiev'd, he spurr'd his palfry,
To get from th❜ enemy and Ralph free;

Left danger, fears, and foes behind,

And beat, at least three lengths, the wind.

1190

JAN

ΑΝ

HEROICAL EPISTLE☀

典

OF

HUDIBRAS TO SIDROPHEL.

Ecce iterum Crifpinus.

WELL, Sidrophel, though 'tis in vain

To tamper with your crazy brain,

Without trepanning of your fcull,

As often as the moon 's at full,

"Tis not amifs, ere ye 're giv'n o'er,
To try one desperate medicine more;

*This Epiftle was published ten years after the Third Canto of this Second Part, to which it is now annexed, namely, in the year 1674; and is faid, in a Key to a burlesque poem of Mr. Butler's, published 1706, p. 13, to have been occafioned by Sir Paul Neal, a conceited virtuofo, and member of the Royal Society, who conftantly affirmed that Mr. Butler was not the Author of Hudibras, which gave rife to this Epiftle; and by fome he

has been taken for the real Sidrophel of the Poem. This was

the gentleman who, I am told, made a great discovery of an elephant in the moon, which, upon examination, proved to be no other than a mouse which had mistaken its way, and got into his telescope. See The Elephant in the Moon, in the fecond volume of Butler's Poems.

For, where your cafe can be no worse,
The defperat'ft is the wifeft course.
Is 't poffible that you, whose ears
Are of the tribe of Iffachar's,
And might (with equal reafon) either
For merit, or extent of leather,
With William Pryn's, before they were
Retrench'd and crucify'd, compare,
Should yet be deaf against a noise
So roaring as the public voice?
That speaks your virtues free and loud,
And openly in every crowd,

As loud as one that fings his part

T'a wheel-barrow or turnip-cart,

your

Or
To cry green-haftings with an engine;

new nick'd-nam'd old invention

(As if the vehemence had ftunn'd,

10

15

20

And torn your drum-heads with the found):
And, 'cause your folly 's now no news,
But overgrown, and out of use,

25

Perfuade yourself there's no fuch matter,
But that 'tis vanish'd out of Nature;
When Folly, as it grows in years,
The more extravagant appears;
For who but you could be poffeft
With fo much ignorance and beast,
That neither all men's fcorn and hate,
Nor being laugh'd and pointed at,

Nor bray'd fo often in a mortar,

35

Can teach you wholesome sense and nurture;

But