That never bowed his stubborn knee
To anything 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 on the saddle,
That could as well bind o'er, as swaddle:
Mighty he was at both of these,
And styled 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 difference was so small, his brain
Outweighed his rage but half a grain:
Which made some take him for a tool
That knaves do work with, called 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;
'Tis plain enough he was no such :
We grant, although he had much wit,

He was very shy of using it;

As being loath to wear it out,
And, therefore, bore it not about;

Unless on holydays or so,

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 for 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 his religion, it was fit
To match his learning and his wit.
'Twas Presbyterian true blue;

For he was of that stubborn crew
Of errant saints-whom all men grant
To be the true church militant;
Such as do build their faith upon
The holy text of pike and gun;
Decide all controversies by
Infallible artillery;

And prove their doctrine orthodox
By apostolic blows and knocks;
Call fire and sword and desolation,
A godly thorough reformation,
Which always must be carried on,
And still be doing, never done;
As if religion were intended
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 distraught or monkey sick;
That with more care keep holyday
The wrong, than others the right way;
Compound for sins they are inclined to,
By damning those they have no mind to.
Still so perverse and opposite,

As if they worshiped God for spite;
The self-same thing they will abhor
One way, and long another for;
Free-will they one way disavow,
Another nothing else allow;
All piety consists therein
In them, in other men all sin;

Rather than fail, they will defy

That which they love most tenderly;

Quarrel with minced-pies, and disparage

Their best and dearest friend, plum-porridge;

Fat pig and goose itself oppose,

And blaspheme custard through the nose.

The apostles of this fierce religion,
Like Mahomet, were ass and widgeon,
To whom our knight, by fast instinct
Of wit and temper, was so linked,
As if hypocrisy and nonsense

Had got the advowson of his conscience.

HUDIBRAS PUT IN THE STOCKS.

HUDIBRAS and his squire Ralpho having set out to reform the world, encounter an assemblage of rustics amused by a fiddler and a dancing bear. They rout the clowns and carry the fiddler to the stocks. But the crowd gather again and renew the fight, which has various turns until the maid Trulla appears, who vanquishes the knight. She decides that Hudibras and Ralpho must be punished in the stocks.

This said, the Knight did straight submit,
And laid his weapons at her feet;
Next he disrobed his gaberdine,

And with it did himself resign.

She took it, and forthwith divesting

The mantle that she wore, said, jesting,

Take that and wear it for my sake;

Then threw it o'er his sturdy back.
And as the French we conquered once,
Now give us laws for pantaloons,
The length of breeches, and the gathers,
Port-cannons, periwigs, and feathers;
Just so the proud insulting lass
Arrayed and dighted Hudibras.
Meanwhile the other champions, erst
In hurry of the fight dispersed,
Arrived, when Trulla won the day,
To share i' th' honor and the prey,
And out of Hudibras his hide
With vengeance to be satisfied;
Which now they were about to pour
Upon him in a wooden shower;
But Trulla thrust herself between,
And striding o'er his back again,

She brandished o'er her head his sword,

And vowed they should not break her word:

Sh' had given him quarter, and her blood
Or theirs should make that quarter good:
For she was bound, by law of arms,
To see him safe from further harms.
In dungeon deep Crowdero, cast
By Hudibras, as yet lay fast;

Where to the hard and ruthless stones
His great heart made perpetual moans;
Him she resolved that Hudibras
Should ransom, and supply his place.

This stopped their fury, and the basting
Which toward Hudibras was hasting.
The Knight and Squire then they made
Rise from the ground where they were laid;
Orsin led Hudibras's beast,

And Talgol that which Ralpho pressed,

Whom stout Magnano, valiant Cerdon,

And Colon, waited as a guard on;
All ush'ring Trulla in the rear,
With th' arms of either prisoner.

In this proud order and array

They put themselves upon their way,

Striving to reach th' enchanted castle [the stocks],

Where stout Crowdero in durance lay still.

Thither, with greater speed than shows
And triumph over conquered foes
Do use t' allow, or than the bears
Or pageants borne before Lord Mayors,
Are wont to use, they soon arrived
In order, soldier-like contrived;
Still marching in a warlike posture,
As fit for battle as for muster.

The Knight and Squire they first unhorse,
And bending 'gainst the fort their force,
They all advanced, and round about
Begirt the magical redoubt.
Magnan' led up in this adventure,
And made way for the rest to enter:
For he was skillful in black art,
No less than he that built the fort;
And with an iron mace laid flat

A breach, which straight all entered at

And in the wooden dungeon found
Crowdero laid upon the ground.
Him they release from durance base,
Restored t' his Fiddle and his case,
And liberty his thirsty rage

With luscious vengeance to assuage:
For he no sooner was at large,

But Trulla straight brought on the charge,
And in the self-same limbo put

The Knight and Squire where he was shut:

Where leaving them in Hockley-i'-th'-hole,
Their bangs and durance to condole,
Confined and conjured into narrow
Enchanted mansion to know sorrow,
In the same order and array

Which they advanced, they marched away.
But Hudibras who scorned to stoop

To Fortune, or be said to droop,

Cheered up himself with ends of verse,
And sayings of philosophers.