Then what can better reprefent,
Than this rump bone, the Parliament,
That after fev'ral rude eje&ions,
And as prodigious refurrections,
With new reversions of nine lives,
Starts up, and, like a cat, revives?
But now, alas! they're all expir'd,
And th' Houfe, as well as members, fir'd;
Confum'd in kennels by the rout,
With which they other fires put out;
Condemn'd t' ungoverning distress;
And paltry, private wretchedness;
Worfe than the devil to privation,
Beyond all hopes of restoration;
And parted, like the body and foul,
From all dominion and controul.

We who could lately, with a look,
Ena, establish, or revoke,
Whofe arbitrary nods gave law,
And frowns kept multitudes in awe ;
Before the blufter of whofe huff,
All hats, as in a storm, flew off;
Ador'd and bow'd to by the great,
Down to the footman and valet ;
Had more bent knees than chapel mats,
And prayers, than the crowns of hats,
Shall now be fcorn'd as wretchedly,
For ruin's just as low as high;
Which might be suffer'd, were it all
The horrors that attend our fall:
For fome of us have scores more large
'fhan heads and quarters can discharge;
And others, who, by reftlefs fcraping,

With public frauds, and private rapine,

Have mighty heaps of wealth amass'd,
Would gladly lay down all at last,
And, to be but undone, entail
Their veffels on perpetual jail,

And bless the dev'l to let them farms
Of forfeit foul, on no worse terms.
This faid, a near and louder fhout
Put all th' affembly to the rout,
Who now began t' outrun their fear,
As horfes do, from those they bear;
But crowded on with fo much hate,
Until they 'ad block'd the paffage faft,
And barricado'd it with haunches
Of outward men, and bulks and paunches,
That with their fhoulders ftrove to fqueeze,
And rather fave a crippled piece

Of all their crufh'd and broken members,
Than have them grilly'd on the embers;
Still preffing on with heavy packs

Of one another on their backs,
The vanguard could no longer bear
The charges of the forlorn rear,
But, borne down headlong by the rout,
Were trampled forely under foot;
Yet nothing prov'd fo formidable
As th' horrid cook'ry of the rabble;
And fear, that keeps all feeling out,
As leffer pains are by the gout,
Believ'd 'em with a fresh fupply
Of rally'd force, enough to fly,
And beat a Tufean running horse,
Whofe jockey-rider is all fpurs.

Ppuj

Wao would believe what ftrange bugbears
Mankind creates itfelf, of fears,

That fpring like fern, that infect weed,
Equivocally, without feed,

And have no poflible foundation,

But merely in th' imagination?

And yet can do more dreadful feats

Than hags, with all their imps and teats;

Make more bewitch and haunt themselves,
Than all their nurseries of elves.
For fear does things fo like a witch,
"Tis hard t' unriddle which is which;
Sets up communities of fenfes,
To chop and change intelligences;
As Roficrucian virtuofis

Can fee with cars, and hear with nofes;
And, when they neither fee nor hear,
Have more than both fupply'd by fear,
That makes them in the dark fee vifions,
And hag themselves with apparitions,
And, when their eyes difcover leaft;
Difcern the fubtleft objects beft;
Do things not contrary, alone,

To th' courfe of Nature, but its own,

The courage
And turn poltroons as valiant :
For men as refolute appear

of the braveft daant,

With too much, as too little fear;

And when they're out of hopes of flying
Will run away from death by dying;

Or turn again to stand it out,
And those they filed, like lions, rout.

This Hudibras had prov'd too true,
Who, by the Furies, left perdue,
And haunted with detachments, fent
From Marshal Legion's regiment*,
Was by a fiend, as counterfeit,
Reliev'd and refcu'd with a cheat,
When nothing but himself, and fear,
Was both the imps and conjurer;
As, by the rules o' th' virtuofi,
It follows in due form of poefie.

Difguis'd in all the marks of night,
We left our champion on his flight,

*Alluding to Stephen Marshall's bellowing out treafon from the pulpit, in order to recruit the army of the Rebels. He was called the Geneva Bull.

At blind man's buff, to grope his way,
In equal fear of night and day;
Who took his dark and defp'rate courfe,
He knew no better than his horse;
And by an unknown devil led,
(He knew as little whither) fled,
He never was in greater need,
Nor lefs capacity of speed;
Difabled, both in man and beast,
To fly and run away, his beft;
To keep the enemy, and fear,
From equal falling on his rear.

And though with kicks and bangs he ply'd
The further and the nearer fide;
(As feamen ride with all their force,
And tug as if they row'd the horse,
And when the hackney fails more fwift,
Believe they lag, or run adrift)
So, though he posted e'er so fast,
His fear was greater than his hafte;
For fear, though fleeter than the wind,
Believes 'tis always left behind.
But when the morn began t' appear,
And shift t' another fcene his fear,
He found his new officious fhade,
That came fo timely to his aid,
And forc'd him from the foe t' efcape,
Had turn'd itself to Ralpho's fhape,
So like in perfon, garb, and pitch,
'Twas hard t' interpret which was which.
For Ralpho had no fooner told
The Lady all he had t' unfold,
But the convey'd him out of fight,
To entertain th' approaching Knight;
And while he gave himself diversion,
T'accommodate his beaft and perfon,
And put his beard into a posture,
At beft advantage to accost her,
She order'd th' antimafquerade
(For his reception, aforefaid;
For when the ceremony was done,
The lights put out, the Furies gone,
And Hudibras, among the reft,
Convey'd away, as Ralpho guefs'd,
The wretched catiff, all alone,
(As he believ'd) began to moan,
And tell his story to himself,
The Knight mistook him for an elfe;
And did fo ftill, till he began

To fcruple at Ralpho's outward man.
And thought, because they oft' agreed
T' appear in one another's ftead,
And act the Saint's and Devil's part,
With undistinguishable art,
They might have done fo now, perhaps,
And put on one another's fhapes;
And therefore, to refolve the doubt,
He ftar'd upon him, and cry'd out,
What art? My Squire, or that bold sprite
That took his place and fhape to-night?
Some bufy independent pug,
Retainer to his fynagogue?
Alas! quoth he, I'm none of thofe
Your bofom friends, as you fuppofe,

But Ralph himself, your trufty Squire,
Who 'as dragg'd your Dunship out o' th' mire,
And from th' enchantments of a Widow,
Who 'ad turn'd you int' a beaft, have freed you;

And, though a prifoner of war,

Have brought you fafe, where now you are?
Which you would gratefully repay,

Your conftant Presbyterian way.

That's ftranger (quoth the Knight) and ftranger,
Who gave thee notice of my danger?
Quoth he, Th' infernal conjurer
Purfu'd, and took me prisoner;
And, knowing you were hereabout,
Brought me along to find you out.
Where I, in hugger-mugger, hid,
Have noted all they faid or did:
And, though they lay to him the pageant,
I did not fee him, nor his agent;
Who play'd their forceries out of fight,
T' avoid a fiercer fecond fight.
But didft thou fee no devils then?
Not one (quoth he) but carnal men,
A little worse than fiends in hell,
And that fhe-devil Jezebel,

That laugh'd and tee-he'd with derision
To fee them take your depofition.

What then (quoth Hudibras) was he
That play'd the dev'l to examine me?
A rallying weaver in the town,
That did it in a parfon's gown;
Whom all the parish takes for gifted,
But, for my part, I ne'er believ dit:
In which you told them all your seats,
Your confcientious frauds and cheats;
Deny'd your whipping, and confefs'd
The naked truth of all the rest,
More plainly than the rev'rend writer
That to our Churches veil'd his miter;
All which they take in black and white,
And cudgell'd me to underwrite.

What made thee, when they all were gone, And none but thou and I alone,

To act the devil, and forbear

To rid me of my hellish fear?
Quoth he, I knew your conftant rate,
And frame of fp'rit too obftinate,
To be by me prevail'd upon,
With any motives of my own;
And therefore ftrove to counterfeit
The devil a while, to nick your wit;
The devil, that is your conftant crony,
That only can prevail upon ye;
Elfe we might ftill have been difputing,
And they with weighty drubs confuting.

The Knight, who now began to find
They 'ad left the enemy behind,
And faw no further harm remain
But fecble weariness and pain,
Perceiv'd, by lofing of their way,
They 'ad gain'd th' advantage of the day,
And, by declining of the road,

They had, by chance, their rear made good;
He ventur'd to difmifs his fear,

That partings wont to rant and tear,

And give the defperat'ft attack
To danger ftill behind its back :
For having paus'd to recollect,
And on his paft fuccefs reflect,
T' examine and confider why,

And whence, and how, he came to fly,
And when no devil had appear'd,
What else it could be faid, he fear'd,
It put him in fo fierce a rage,
He once refolv'd to re-engage;
Tofs'd, like a football, back again

With fhame, and vengeance, and disdain.
Quoth he, It was thy cowardice
That made me from this leaguer rife,
And when I 'ad half reduc'd the place,
To quit it infamously base,
Was better cover'd by the new
Arriv'd detachment, than I knew;
To flight my new acquefts, and run,
Victoriously, from battles won;
And, reck'ning all I gain'd or loft,
To fell them cheaper than they cost:
To make me put myself to flight,
And, conq'ring, run away by night;
To drag me out, which th' haughty foe
Durft never have prefum'd to do:
To mount me in the dark, by force,
Upon the bare ridge of my horse,
Expos'd in querpo to their rage,
Without my arms and equipage;
Left, if they ventur'd to pursue,
1 might th' unequal fight renew;
And, to preferve thy outward man,
Affum'd my place, and led the van.

All this (quoth Ralph) I did, 'tis true,
Not to preferve myself, but you:
You, who were damn'd to baser drubs
Than wretches feel in powd'ring tubs,
To mount two-wheel'd caroches, worfe
Than managing a wooden horfe;

Dragg'd out through ftraiter holes by th' ears,
Eras'd, or coup'd for perjurers:

Who, though th' attempt had prov'd in vain,
Had had no reafon to complain;
But, fince it profper'd, 'tis unhandsome
To blame the hand that paid your ranson,
And refcu'd your obnoxious bones
From unavoidable battoons.

The enemy was reinforc'd,
And we difabled and unhors'd,
Difarm'd, unqualify'd for fight,
And no way left but hafty flight,

Which, though as defp'rate in th' attempt,
Has giv'n you freedom to condemn 't.

But were our bones in fit condition
To reinforce the expedition,
'Tis now unfeas'nable and vain,
To think of falling on again :
No martial project to surprise
Can ever be attempted twice;
Nor caft defign ferve afterwards,
As gamesters tear their lofing cards.
Befide, our bangs of man and beast
Are fit for nothing now but reft,

And for a while will not be able
To rally, and prove serviceable:
And therefore I, with reafon, chofe
This ftratagem t' amafe our foes,
To make an hon'rable retreat,
And wave a total fure defeat:
For those that fly may fight again,
Which he can never do that's flain.
Heuce timely running's no mean part
Of conduct, in the martial art,
By which fome glorious feats achieve,
As citizens by breaking thrive.
And cannons conquer armies, while
They feem to draw off and recoil;
Is held the gallant'ft course, and bravest,
To great exploits, as well as fafeft;
That fpares th' expence of time and pains,
And dang'rous beating out of brains;
And, in the end, prevails as certain
As thofe that never truft to fortune;
But make their fear do execution
Beyond the ftouteft refolution;
As carthquakes kill without a blow,
And, only trembling, overthrow.

If th' ancients crown d their bravest men
That only fav'd a citizen,

What victory cou'd e'er be won,
If ev'ry one would fave but one?
Or fight endanger'd to be loft,
Where all refolve to fave the moft?
By this means, when a battle's won,
The war's as far from being done;
For those that fave themselves, and fly,
Go halves, at lcaft, i' th' victory;
And fometime, when the lofs is fmall,
And danger great, they challenge all;
Print new additions to their feats,
And emendations in Gazettes;
And when, for furious hafte, to run,
They durft not stay to fire a gun,
Have done't with bonefires, and at home
Made fquibs and crackers overcome;
To fet the rabble on a flame,

And keep their governors from blame,
Difperfe the news the pulpit teils,

Confirm'd with fireworks and with bells:
And, though reduc'd to that extreme

They have been forc'd to fing Te Deum;
Yet, with religious blafphemy,

By flatterring Heav'n with a lie,

And, for their beating, giving thanks,

They've rais'd recruits, and fill'd their banks; For those who run from th' enemy,

Engage them equally to fly;

And when the fight becomes a chase,

Those win the day that win the race;

And that which would not pafs in fights,

Has done the feat with eafy flights;

Recover'd many a defp'rate campaign

With Bourdeaux, Burgundy, and Champaign;
Reftor'd the fainting high and mighty
With brandy, wine, and aquavitæ,
And made 'em ftoutly overcome

With Bacrack, Hoccamore, and Mum;

With th' uncontroll'd decrees of Fate
To victory neceffitate;

With which, although they run or burn,
They unavoidably return;
Or elfe their fultan populaces
Still ftrangle all their routed Baffas.

Quoth Hudibras, I understand

What fights thou mean'st at sea and land,
And who thofe were that run away,
And yet gave out they'd won the day;
Although the rabble fouc'd them for't,
O'er head and ears, in mud and dirt.
' is true our modern way of war

Is

grown more politic by far,

But not fo refolute and bold,
Nor ty'd to honour, as the old.

For now they laugh at giving battle,
Unless it be to herds of cattle;
Or fighting convoys of provifion,
The whole defign of the expedition,
And not with downright blows to rout
The enemy, but eat them out:
As fighting, in all beafts of prey,
And eating, are perform'd one way,
To give defiance to their teeth,

And fight their stubborn guts to death;
And thofe achieve the high'ft renown,
That bring the other ftomachs down.
There's now no fear of wounds nor maiming,
All dangers are reduc'd to famine,
And feats of arms to plot, defign,
Surprife, and ftratagem, and mine;
But have no need nor use of courage,
Unless it be for glory' or ferage;
For if they fight, 'tis but by chance,
When one fide vent'ring to advance,
And come uncivilly too near,
Are charg'd unmercifully i' th' rear,
And forc'd, with terrible refiftance,
To keep hereafter at a distance,
To pick out ground t' encamp upon,
Where ftore of largest rivers run,
1 hat ferve, instead of peaceful barriers,
To part th' engagements of their warriors;
Where both from fide to fide may skip,
And only 'ncounter at bo-peep:
For men are found the ftouter-hearted,
The certainer they're to be parted,
And therefore poft themselves in bogs,
As th' ancient mice attack'd the frogs,
And made their mortal enemy,
The water-rat, their strict ally.

For 'tis not now who's ftout and bold?
But who bears hunger beft, and cold?
And he's approv'd the most deferving,
Who longeft can hold out at starving;
And he that routs ipoft pigs and cows,
The formidableft man of prowess.
So th' Emperor Caligula,
That triumph'd o'er the British fea,
Took crabs and oysters prifoners,
And lobsters, 'ftead of cuirafiers;
Engag'd his legions in fierce bustles,
With periwrinkles, prawns, and muscles,

And led his troops with furious gallops,
To charge whole regiments of fcallops;
Not like their ancient way of war,
To wait on his triumphal car;
But when he went to dine or fup,
More bravely ate his captives up,
And left all war, by his example,
Reduc'd to vict'ling of a camp well.

Quoth Ralph, By all that you have said.
And twice as much that I could add,
'Tis plain you cannot now do worse
Than take this out-of-fashion'd course;
To hope, by stratagem, to woo her,
Or waging battle to subdue her;
Though fome have done it in romances,
And bang'd them into am'rous fancies;
As those who won the Amazons,
By wanton drubbing of their bones;
And ftout Rinaldo gain'd his bride
By courting of her back and fide.
But fince thofe times and feats are over,
They are not for a modern lover,
When miftreffes are too crofs-grain'd,
By fuch addreffes to be gain'd;
And if they were, would have it out
With many another kind of bout.
Therefore I hold no courfe fo infeasible,
As this of force, to win the Jezebel,
To ftorm her heart by th' antic charms
Of ladies errant, force of arms;
But rather frive by law to win her,
And try the title you have in her.
Your cafe is clear, you have her word,
And me to witnefs the accord;
Befides two more of her retinue
To teftify what pafs'd between you;
More probable, and like to hold,
Than hand, or feal, or breaking gold,
For which fo many, that renounc'd

Their plighted contracts, have been trounc',
And bills upon record been found,
That forc'd the ladies to compound;
And that, unless I mifs the matter,
Is all the bus'nefs you look after.
Befides, encounters at the bar
Are braver now than thofe in war,
In which the law does execution,
With lefs diforder and confufion;
Has more of honour in't, fome hold,
Not like the new way, but the old,
When those the pen had drawn together,
Decided quarrels with the feather,
And winged arrows kill'd as dead,
And more than bullets now of lead:
So all their combats now, as then,
Are manag'd chiefly by the pen :
That does the feat, with braver vigours,
In words at length, as well as figure;
Is judge of all the world performs
In voluntary feats of arms,
And whatfoe'er's achiev'd in fight,
Determines which is wrong or right
For whether you prevail or lofe,
All must be try'd there in the clofe;