Through they were lined with many a piece
Of ammunition bread and cheese,
And fat black puddings, proper food
For warriors that delight in blood:
For, as we said, he always chose
To carry victual in his hose,
That often tempted rats and mice
The ammunition to surprise.
His puissant sword unto his side,
Near his undaunted heart, was tied,
With basket hilt that would hold broth
And serve for fight and dinner both;
In it he melted lead for bullets,
To shoot at foes, and sometimes pullets,
To whom he bore so fell a grutch,
He ne'er gave quarter to any such.
The trenchant blade, Toledo trusty,
For want of fighting was grown rusty,
And ate into itself for lack
Of somebody to hew and hack:
The peaceful scabbard, where it dwelt,
The rancour of its edge had felt :
For of the lower end two handful
It had devoured, 'twas so manful,
And so much scorned to lurk in case,
As if it durst not show its face.
In many desperate attempts
Of warrants, exigents, contempts,
It had appeared with courage bolder
Than Sergeant Bum invading shoulder;
Oft had it ta'en possession,
And pris'ners too, or made them run.
This sword a dagger had, his page,
That was but little for his
And therefore waited on him so,
As dwarfs upon knights-errant do:
It was a serviceable dudgeon,
Either for fighting or for drudging:
When it had stabbed or broke a head,
It would scrape trenchers, or chip bread :
Toast cheese or bacon, though it were
To bait a mouse-trap, 'twould not care;
'Twould make clean shoes, and in the earth
Set leeks and onions, and so forth;
It had been 'prentice to a brewer,
Where this and more it did endure,
But left the trade, as many more
Have lately done on the same score.
In th' holsters, at his saddle-bow,
Two aged pistols he did stow,
Among the surplus of such meat
As in his hose he could not get;
These would inveigle rats with th' scent,
To forage when the cocks were bent.
And sometimes catch 'em with a snap,
As cleverly as the ablest trap:
They were upon hard duty still,
And every night stood sentinel,
To guard the magazine i' the hose
From two-legged and from four-legged foes.
Thus clad and fortified, Sir Knight,
From peaceful home, set forth to fight.
They'll search a Planet's House to know
Who broke and robb'd a house below;
Examine Venus and the Moon,
Who stole a thimble, who a spoon;
And tho' they nothing will confess,
Yet by their very looks can guess,
And tell what guilty aspect bodes,
Who stole, and who receiv'd the goods.
They'll feel the pulses of the stars,
To find out Agues, Coughs, Catarrhs;
And tell what Crisis does divine
The rot in sheep, the mange in swine;
In man what gives or cures the Itch,
What makes them cuckolds, poor or rich;
What gains or loses, hangs or saves;
What makes men great, what fools, what knaves ;
But not what wise; for only of those
The stars, they say, cannot dispose,
No more than can the Astrologians;
There they say right, and like true Trojans.
Some towns and cities, some, for brevity,
Have cast the 'versal world's nativity,
And made the infant stars confess,
Like fools or children, what they please.
Some calculate the hidden fates
Of monkeys, puppy-dogs, and cats:
Some running nags, and fighting cocks
Some love, trade, law-suits, and the pox.
Some take a measure of the lives
Of fathers, mothers, husbands, wives;
As if the planet's first aspect
The tender infant did nfect:
No sooner had he peep'd into
The world, but he has done his do;
Catch'd all diseases, took all physick,
That cures or kills a man that is sick
Marry'd his punctual dose of wives
Is cuckolded, and breaks or thrives
There's but the twinkling of a star
Between a man of peace and war;
A thief and justice, fool and knave,
A huffing officer and a slave;
A crafty lawyer and pick-pocket,
A great philosopher and a blockhead;
A formal preacher and a player,
A learn'd physician and manslayer;
As if men from the stars did suck
Old age, diseases, and ill luck;
[For] when your speculations tend
Above their just and useful end,
Although they promise strange and great
Discoveries of things far set,
They are but idle dreams and fancies.
The antient errant knights Won all their ladies' hearts in fights, And cut whole giants into fritters, To put them into am'rous twitters: Whose stubborn bowels scorn'd to yield, Until their gallants were half kill'd; But when their sides were rubb'd so sore, They durst not woo one combat more, The ladies' hearts began to melt, Subdu'd with blows their lovers felt.
4. COURAGE IN ADVERSITY.
Hudibras, who scorn'd to stoop
To fortune, or be said to droop,
Cheer'd up himself with ends of verse,
And sayings of philosophers
I am not now in fortune's power,
He that is down, can fall no lower :
And as we see th'eclipsed sun
By mortals is more gaz'd upon,
Than when, adorn'd with all his light,
He shines in serene sky most bright:
So valour in a low estate
Is most admir'd and wonder'd at.
As beards, the nearer that they tend
To th' earth, still grow more reverend ;
And cannons shoot the higher pitches,
The lower we let down their breeches ;
I'll make this low dejected state
Advance me to a greater height.
5. MODERN WAR.
'Tis true, our modern way of war
Is grown more politic by far,
But not so resolute and bold,
Nor tied to honour as the old.
For now they laugh at giving battle,
Unless it be to herds of cattle,
Or fighting convoys of provision,
The whole design of the expedition:
And not with downright blows to rout
The enemy, but eat them out.
As fighting, in all beasts of prey,
And eating, are performed one day ;
To give defiance to their teeth,
And fight their stubborn guts to death.
And those achieve the high'st renown
That bring the other's stomach down.
There's now no flesh of wounds nor maiming;
All dangers are reduced to famine:
And feats of arms, to plot, design,
Surprise, aud stratagem, and mine;
But have no need nor use for courage,
Unless it be for glory or forage:
For, if they fight, 'tis but by chance,
When one side venturing to advance,
And come uncivilly too near,
Are charged unmercifully in the rear,
And forced with terrible resistance
To keep hereafter at a distance,
To pick out ground to encamp upon,
Where store of largest rivers run,
That serve instead of peaceful barriers
To part the engagements of their warriors;
Where both from side to side may skip,
And only encounter at bo-peep.
For men are found the stouter hearted
The certainer they're to be parted:
And therefore post themselves in bogs,
As the ancient mice attacked the frogs
And made their mortal enemy
The water-rat, their strict ally.
For 'tis not now who's stout and bold;
But who bears hunger best and cold;
And he's approved the most deserving
Who longest can hold out at starving:
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