And conduct, he approached his steed, 1185 And, with activity unwont,
Essayed the lofty beast to mount;
Which once achieved, he spurred his palfrey,
To get from th' enemy and Ralph free;
Left danger, fears, and foes behind,
1190 And beat, at least three lengths, the wind.
AN HEROICAL EPISTLE OF HUDIBRAS
WELL, Sidrophel, though 'tis in vain
To tamper with your crazy brain,
Without trepanning of your skull,
As often as the moon's at full,
s "Tis not amiss, ere ye're given o'er,
To try one desperate medicine more ;
For where your case can be no worse,
The desp'rat'st is the wisest course.
Is't possible that you, whose ears
10 Are of the tribe of Issachar's,
And might, with equal reason, either
For merit, or extent of leather,
With William Prynne's, before they were
Retrenched, and crucified, compare,
15 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 sings his part 20 T' a wheelbarrow, or turnip-cart,
Or your new nicked-named old invention
To cry green-hastings with an engine;
As if the vehemence had stunned,
And torn your drumheads with the sound; 25 And 'cause your folly's now no news, But overgrown, and out of use,
Persuade yourself there's no such matter,
But that 'tis vanished out of nature;
When folly, as it grows in years,
30 The more extravagant appears;
For who but you could be possessed
With so much ignorance and beast,
That neither all men's scorn and hate,
Nor being laughed and pointed at,
35 Nor brayed so often in a mortar,
Can teach you wholesome sense and nurture,
But, like a reprobate, what course
Soever used, grow worse and worse?
Can no transfusion of the blood,
That makes fools cattle, do you good?
Nor putting pigs t'a bitch to nurse,
To turn them into mongrel curs,
Put you into a way, at least,
To make yourself a better beast?
45 Can all your critical intrigues,
Of trying sound from rotten eggs;
Your several new-found remedies,
Of curing wounds and scabs in trees;
Have no effect to operate
Upon that duller block, your pate?
But still it must be lewdly bent
To tempt your own due punishment;
And, like your whimsied chariots, draw
The boys to course you without law;
As if the art you have so long
60 Professed, of making old dogs young,
you had virtue to renew
Not only youth, but childhood too:
Can you, that understand all books,
By judging only with your looks,
65 Resolve all problems with your face,
As others do with Bs and As;
Unriddle all that mankind knows
With solid bending of your brows;
All arts and sciences advance,
With screwing of your countenance,
And with a penetrating eye,
Into th' abstrusest learning pry;
Know more of any trade b' a hint,
Than those that have been bred up in 't,
75 And yet have no art, true or false,
To help your own bad naturals?
But still the more you strive t' appear,
Are found to be the wretcheder:
For fools are known by looking wise,
80 As men find woodcocks by their eyes.
Hence 'tis that 'cause ye 'ave gained o' th' college
A quarter share, at most, of knowledge,
And brought in none, but spent repute,
Y'assume a power as absolute
85 To judge, and censure, and control,
As if you were the sole Sir Poll,
And saucily to pretend to know
More than your dividend comes to:
You'll find the thing will not be done :
With ignorance and face alone:
No, though ye 'ave purchased to your name,
In history, SO great a fame e;
That now your talent's so well known,
For having all belief outgrown,
95 That every strange prodigious tale,
Is measured by your German scale,
By which the virtuosi try
The magnitude of every lie,
Cast up to what it does amount,
100 And place the bigg'st to your account;
That all those stories that are laid
Too truly to you, and those made,
Are now still charged upon your score,
And lesser authors named no more.
105 Alas! that faculty betrays
Those soonest it designs to raise e;
And all your vain renown will spoil,
As guns o'ercharged the more recoil;
Though he that has but impudence,
To all things has a fair pretence;
And put among his wants but shame, To all the world may lay his claim: Though you have tried that nothing's borne With greater ease than public scorn, 115 That all affronts do still give place To your impenetrable face;
That makes your way through all affairs,
As pigs through hedges creep with theirs:
Yet as 'tis counterfeit, and brass,
You must not think 'twill always pass;
For all impostors, when they're known,
Are past their labour, and undone :
And all the best that can befall
An artificial natural,
Is that which madmen find, as soon
As once they're broke loose from the moon,
|