Retain all sorts of witnesses,
That ply i' th' Temples, under trees,
Or walk the round, with knights o' th' posts,
About the cross'd-legg'd knights, their hosts;
Or wait for customers between
The pillar-rows in Lincoln's-inn;
Where vouches, forgers, common-bail,
And affidavit-men, ne'er fail
T'expose to sale all sorts of oaths,
According to their ears and clothes,
Their only necessary tools,
Besides the gospel, and their souls;
And, when ye 're furnish'd with all purveys,
I shall be ready at your service."
"I would not give," quoth Hudibras,
"A straw to understand a case,
Without the admirable skill
To wind and manage it at will;
To veer, and tack, and steer a cause,
Against the weather-gage of laws,
And ring the changes upon cases,
As plain as noses upon faces,
As you have well instructed me,
For which you 've earn'd (here 'tis) your fee.
I long to practise your advice,
And try the subtle artifice;
To bait a letter, as you bid."
As, not long after, thus he did;
For, having pump'd up all his wit,
And hum'd upon it, thus he writ.
I, WHO was once as great as Cæsar,
Am now reduc'd to Nebuchadnezzar;
And, from as fam'd a conqueror
As ever took degree in war,
Or did his exercise in battle,
By you turn'd out to grass with cattle:
For, since I am deny'd access
To all my earthly happiness,
Am fallen from the paradise
Of your good graces, and fair eyes;
Lost to the world and you, I'm sent
To everlasting banishment,
Where all the hopes I had to 've won
Your heart, being dash'd, will break my own.
Yet, if you were not so severe
To pass your doom before you hear,
You'd find, upon my just defence,
How much you 've wrong'd my innocence.
That once I made a vow to you,
Which yet is unperform'd, 'tis true;
But not because it is unpaid,
'Tis violated, though delay'd:
Or, if it were, it is no fault,
So heinous as you 'd have it thought;
To undergo the loss of ears,
Like vulgar hackney perjurers:
For there's a difference in the case,
Between the noble and the base;
Who always are observ'd to 've done 't
Upon as different an account;
The one for great and weighty cause,
To salve, in honour, ugly flaws;
For none are like to do it sooner,
Than those who 're nicest of their honour?
The other, for base gain and pay,
Forswear and perjure by the day,
And make th' exposing and retailing
Their souls and consciences a calling.
It is no scandal nor aspersion,
Upon a great and noble person,
To say he naturally abhorr'd
Th' old-fashion'd trick to keep his word,
Though tis perfidiousness and shame,
In meaner men, to do the same:
For to be able to forget,
Is found more useful to the great,
Than gout, or deafness, or bad eyes,
To make thera pass for wondrous wise.
But though the law, on perjurers,
Inflicts the forfeiture of ears,
It is not just, that does exempt
The guilty, and punish th' innocent;
To make the ears repair the wrong
Committed by th' ungovern'd tongue;
And, when one member is forsworn,
Another to be cropt or torn.
And if you should, as you design,
By course of law, recover mine,
You 're like, if you consider right,
To gain but little honour by 't.
For ne, that for his lady's sake
Lays down his life, or limbs, at stake,
Does not so much deserve her favour,
As he that pawns his soul to have her.
This ye 've acknowledg'd I have done,
Although you now disdain to own;
But sentence what you rather ought
Testeem good service than a fault.
Besides, oaths are not bound to bear
That literal sense the words infer;
But, by the practice of the age,
Are to be judg'd how far they engage;
And, where the sense by custom 's checkt,
Are found void and of none effect;
For no man takes or keeps a vow,
But just as he sees others do;
Nor are they oblig'd to be so brittle,
As not to yield and bow a little :
For as best-temper'd blades are found,
Before they break, to bend quite round;
So truest oaths are still most tough,
And, though they bow, are breaking proof.
Then wherefore should they not b' allow'd
In love a greater latitude?
For, as the law of arms approves
All ways to conquest, so should love's;
And not be ty'd to true or false,
But make that justest that prevails:
For how can that which is above
All empire, high and mighty Love,
Submit its great prerogative
To any other power alive?
Shall Love, that to no crown gives place,
Become the subject of a case?
The fundamental law of Nature
Be over-rul'd by those made after?
Commit the censure of its cause
To any but its own great laws?
Love, that's the world's preservative,
That keeps all souls of things alive;
Controuls the mighty power of Fate,
And gives mankind a longer date;
The life of Nature, that restores
As fast as Time and Death devours;
To whose free-gift the world does owe
Not only Earth, but Heaven too:
For love's the only trade that 's driven,
The interest of state in Heaven,
Which nothing but the soul of man
Is capable to entertain,
For what can Earth produce, but love,
To represent the joys above?
Or who, but lovers, can converse,
Like angels, by the eye-discourse?
Address and compliment by vision,
Make love and court by intuition?
And burn in amorous flames as fierce
As those celestial ministers?
Then how can any thing offend,
In order to so great an end?
Or Heaven itself a sin resent,
That for its own supply was meant ?
That merits, in a kind mistake,
A pardon for th' offence's sake?
Or if it did not, but the cause
Were left to th' injury of laws,
What tyranny can disapprove
There should be equity in love?
For laws, that are inanimate,
And feel no sense of love or hate,
That have no passion of their own,
Nor pity to be wrought upon,
Are only proper to inflict
Revenge, on criminals, as strict:
But to have power to forgive,
Is empire and prerogative;
And 'tis in crowns a nobler gem
To grant a pardon than condemn.
Then, since so few do what they ought,
Tis great t' indulge a well-meant fault;
For why should he who made address
All humble ways, without success,
And met with nothing in return
But insolence, affronts, and scorn,
Not strive by wit to countermine,
And bravely carry his design?
He who was us'd so unlike a soldier,
Blown up with philtres of love-powder;
And, after letting blood, and purging,
Condemn'd to voluntary scourging;
Alarm'd with many a horrid fight,
And claw'd by goblins in the night;
Insulted on, revil'd, and jeer'd,
With rude invasion of his beard;
And, when your sex was foully scandal'd,
As foully by the rabble handled;
Attack'd by despicable foes,
And drubb'd with mean and vulgar blows;
And, after all, to be debarr'd
So much as standing on his guard;
When horses, being spurr'd and prick'd,
Have leave to kick for being kick❜d?
Or why should you, whose mother-wits
Are furnish'd with all perquisites,
That with your breeding teeth begin,
And nursing babies that lie in,
B' allow'd to put all tricks upon
Our cully sex, and we use none?
We, who have nothing but frail vows
Against your stratagems t' oppose,
VOL. VIII.
Or oaths more feeble than your own,
By which we are no less put down?
You wound, like Parthians, while you fly,
And kill with a retreating eye;
Retire the more, the more we press,
To draw us into ambushes:
As pirates all false colours wear,
T' intrap th' unwary mariner;
So women, to surprise us, spread
The borrow'd flags of white and red;
Display them thicker on their cheeks,
Than their old grandmothers, the Picts;
And raise more devils with their looks,
Than conjurers' less subtle books:
Lay trains of amorous intrigues,
In towers, and curls, and periwigs,
With greater art and cunning rear'd,
Than Philip Nye's thanksgiving beard;
Prepost'rously t' entice and gain
Those to adore them they disdain;
And only draw them in to clog,
With idle names, a catalogue.
A lover is, the more he 's brave,
This mistress but the more a slave,
And whatsoever she commands,
Becomes a favour from her hands,
'Which he 's oblig'd t' obey, and must,
Whether it be unjust or just.
Then, when he is compell'd by her
T' adventures he would else forbear,
Who, with his honour, can withstand,
Since force is greater than command?
And when necessity 's obey'd,
Nothing can be unjust or bad:
And therefore when the mighty powers
Of Love, our great ally, and your's,
Join'd forces, not to be withstood
By frail enamour'd flesh and blood,
All I have done, unjust or ill,
Was in obedience to your will;
And all the blame, that can be due,
Falls to your cruelty and you.
Nor are those scandals I confest,
Against my will and interest,
More than is daily done, of course,
By all men, when they 're under force:
Whence some, upon the rack, confess
What th' hangman and their prompters please;
But are no sooner out of pain,
Than they deny it all again.
But when the Devil turns confessor,
Truth is a crime he takes no pleasure
To hear or pardon, like the founder
Of liars, whom they all claim under:
And therefore, when I told him none,
I think it was the wiser done.
Nor am I without precedent,
The first that on th' adventure went;
All mankind ever did of course,
And daily does, the same, or worse.
For what romance can show a lover,
That had a lady to recover,
And did not steer a nearer course,
To fall aboard in his amours?
And what at first was held a crime,
Has turn'd to honourable in time.
To what a height did infant Rome,
By ravishing of women, come?
When men upon their spouses seiz'd,
And freely marry'd where they pleas'd;
N
They ne'er forswore themselves, nor ly'd,
Nor, in the mind they were in, dy'd;
Nor took the pains t' address and sue,
Nor play'd the masquerade, to woo:
Disdain'd to stay for friends' consents,
Nor juggled about settlements;
Did need no licence, nor no priest,
Nor friends, nor kindred, to assist,
Nor lawyers, to join land and money
In th' holy state of matrimony,
Before they settled hands and hearts,
Till alimony or death departs;
Nor would endure to stay until
They 'ad got the very bride's good will,
But took a wise and shorter course
To win the ladies, downright force;
And justly made them prisoners then,
As they have, often since, us men,
With acting plays, and dancing jigs,
The luckiest of all Love's intrigues;
And, when they had them at their pleasure,
They talk'd of love and flames at leisure;
For, after matrimony 's over,
He that holds out but half a lover,
Deserves, for every minute, more
Than half a year of love before;
For which the dames, in contemplation
Of that best way of application,
Prov'd nobler wives than e'er were known
By suit or treaty to be won;
And such as all posterity
Could never equal, nor come nigh.
For women first were made for men,
Not men for them.-It follows, then,
That men have right to every one,
And they no freedom of their own;
And therefore men have power to choose,
But they no charter to refuse.
Hence 'tis apparent that, what course
Soe'er we take to your amours,
Though by the indirectest way,
'Tis no injustice nor foul play;
And that you ought to take that course,
As we take you, for better or worse,
And gratefully submit to those
Who you, before another, chose.
For why should every savage beast
Exceed his great lord's interest?
Have freer power than he, in Grace
And Nature, o'er the creature has?
Because the laws he since has made
Have cut off all the power he had;
Retrench'd the absolute dominion
That Nature gave him over women;
When all his power will not extend
One law of Nature to suspend ;"
And but to offer to repeal
The smallest clause, is to repel.
This, if men rightly understood
Their privilege, they would make good,
And not, like sots, permit their wives
T'encroach on their prerogatives;
For which sin they deserve to be
Kept, as they are, in slavery:
And this some precious gifted teachers,
Unreverently reputed leachers,
And disobey'd in making love,
Have vow'd to all the world to prove,
And make ye suffer, as you ought,
For that uncharitable fault:
But I forget myself, and rove
Beyond th' instructions of my love.
Forgive me, fair, and only blame
Th' extravagancy of my flame,
Since 'tis too much at once to show
Excess of love and temper too;
All I have said that 's bad and true,
Was never meant to aim at you,
Who have so sovereign a controul
O'er that poor slave of your's, my soul,
That, rather than to forfeit you,
Has ventured loss of Heaven too;
Both with an equal power possest,
To render all that serve you blest;
But none like him, who 's destin'd either
To have or lose you both together;
And, if you 'll but this fault release,
(For so it must be, since you please)
I'll pay down all that vow, and more,
Which you commanded, and I swore,
And expiate, upon my skin,
Th' arrears in full of all my sin:
For 'tis but just that I should pay
Th' accruing penance for delay;
Which shall be done, until it move
Your equal pity and your love.—
The knight, perusing this epistle, Believ'd he 'ad brought her to his whistle, And read it, like a jocund lover,
With great applause, t' himself, twice over;
Subscrib'd his name, but at a fit
And humble distance, to his wit,
And dated it with wondrous art,
"Giv'n from the bottom of his heart;"
Then seal'd it with his coat of love,
A smoking faggot-and above,
Upon a scroll-" I burn and weep,"
And near it-" For her Ladyship,
Of all her sex most excellent,
These to her gentle hands present;"
Then gave it to his faithful squire,
With lessons how to observe and eye her.
She first consider'd which was better, To send it back, or burn the letter: But, guessing that it might import, Though nothing else, at least her sport, She open'd it, and read it out, With many a smile and leering flout; Resolv'd to answer it in kind,
And thus perform'd what she design'd.
THAT you 're a beast, and turn'd to grass,
Is no strange news, nor ever was,
At least to me, who once, you know,
Did from the pound replevin you,
When both your sword and spurs were won
In combat by an Amazon;
That sword, that did, like Fate, determine
Th' inevitable death of vermin,
And never dealt its furious blows,
But cut the throats of pigs and cows,
By Trulla was, in single fight,
Disarm'd and wrested from its knight;
Your heels degraded of your spurs,
And in the stocks close prisoners,
Where still they 'ad lain, in base restraint,
If I, in pity of your complaint,
Had not, on bonourable conditions,
Releas'd them from the worst of prisons;
And what return that favour met
You cannot (though you would) forget;
When, being free, you strove t' evade
The oaths you had in prison made;
Forswore yourself, and first deny'd it,
But after own'd, and justify'd it;
And, when ye 'ad falsely broke one vow,
Absolv'd yourself by breaking two:
For, while you sneakingly submit,
And beg for pardon at our feet,
Discourag'd by your guilty fears,
To hope for quarter for your ears,
And doubting 'twas in vain to sue,
You claim us boldly as your due;
Declare, that treachery and force,
To deal with us, is th' only course;
We have no title nor pretence
To body, soul, or conscience,
But ought to fall to that man's share,
That claims us for his proper ware:
These are the motives which, t' induce,
Or fright us into love, you use;
A pretty new way of gallanting,
Between soliciting and ranting!
Like sturdy beggars, that entreat
For charity at once, and threat.
But, since you undertake to prove
Your own propriety in love,
As if we were but lawful prize
In war between two enemies,
Or forfeitures, which every lover,
That would but sue for, might recover;
It is not hard to understand
The mystery of this bold demand,
That cannot at our persons aim,
But something capable of claim.
'Tis not those paltry counterfeit
French stones, which in our eyes you set,
But our right diamonds, that inspire
And set your amorous hearts on fire:
Nor can those false St. Martin's beads,
Which on our lips you lay for reds,
And make us wear like Indian dames,
Add fuel to your scorching flames;
But those two rubies of the rock,
Which in our cabinets we lock.
"Tis not those orient pearls, our teeth,
That you are so transported with;
But those we wear about our necks,
Produce those amorous effects.
Nor is 't those threads of gold, our hair,
The periwigs you make us wear;
But those bright guineas in our chests,
That light the wildfire in your breasts.
These love-tricks I've been vers'd in so,
That all their sly intrigues I know,
And can unriddle, by their tones,
Their mystic cabals, and jargones;
Can tell what passions, by their sounds,
Pine for the beauties of my grounds;
What raptures fond and amorous
O' th' charms and graces of my house;
What ecstasy and scorching flame
Burns for my money in my name;
What, from th' unnatural desire
To beasts and cattle, takes its fire;
What tender sigh and trickling tear
Longs for a thousand pounds a year;
And languishing transports are fond
Of statute, mortgage, bill, and bond.
These are th' attracts which most men fall
Enamour'd, at first sight, withal;
To these th' address with serenades,
And court with balls and masquerades;
And yet, for all the yearning pain
Ye 'ave suffer'd for their loves in vain,
I fear they'll prove so nice and coy,
To have, and t' hold, and to enjoy,
That, all your oaths and labour lost,
They'll ne'er turn Ladies of the Post.
This is not meant to disapprove
Your judgment, in your choice of love,
Which is so wise, the greatest part
Of mankind study 't as an art;
For love should, like a deodand,
Still fall to th' owner of the land;
And, where there 's substance for its ground,
Cannot but be more firm and sound,
Than that which has the slighter basis
Of airy virtue, wit, and graces;
Which is of such thin subtlety,
It steals and creeps in at the eye,
And, as it can't endure to stay,
Steals out again as nice a way.
But love, that its extraction owns
From solid gold and precious stones,
Must, like its shining parents, prove
As solid, and as glorious love.
Hence 'tis you have no way t' express
Our charms and graces but by these;
For what are lips, and eyes, and teeth,
Which beauty invades and conquers with,
But rubies, pearls, and diamonds,
With which a philtre love commands?
This is the way all parents prove
In managing their children's love,
That force them t' intermarry and wed,
As if th' were burying of the dead;
Cast earth to earth, as in the grave,
To join in wedlock all they bave,
And, when the settlement 's in force,
Take all the rest for better or worse;
For money has a power above
The stars, and Fate, to manage Love,
Whose arrows, learned poets hold,
That never miss, are tipp'd with gold.
And, though some say the parents claims
To make love in their children's names;
Who, many times, at once provide
The nurse, the husband, and the bride,
Feel darts, and charms, attracts, and flames,
And woo and contract in their names,
And, as they christen, use to marry them,
And, like their gossips, answer for them;
Is not to give in matrimony,
But sell and prostitute for money;
'Tis better than their own betrothing,
Who often do 't for worse than nothing;
And, when they 're at their own dispose,
With greater disadvantage choose.
All this is right; but, for the course
You take to do 't, by fraud or force,
'Tis so ridiculous, as soon
As told, 'tis never to be done,
No more than setters can betray,
That tell what tricks they are to play.
Marriage, at best, is but a vow,
Which all men either break or bow:
Then what will those forbear to do,
Who perjure when they do but woo?
Such as beforehand swear and lie,
For earnest to their treachery,
And, rather than a crime confess,
With greater strive to make it less?
Like thieves, who, after sentence past,
Maintain their innocence to the last;
And, when their crimes were made appear,
As plain as witnesses can swear,
Yet, when the wretches come to die,
Will take upon their death a lie.
Nor are the virtues you confess'd
T' your ghostly father, as you guess'd,
So slight as to be justify'd,
By being as shamefully deny'd;
As if you thought your word would pass,
Point-blank, on both sides of a case;
Or credit were not to be lost
B' a brave knight-errant of the Post,
That eats perfidiously his word,
And swears his ears through a two-inch board;
Can own the same thing, and disown,
And perjure booty, pro and con;
Can make the gospel serve his turn,
And help him out, to be forsworn ;
When 'tis laid hands upon, and kist,
To be betray'd and sold, like Christ.
These are the virtues in whose name
A right to all the world you claim,
And boldly challenge a dominion,
In Grace and Nature, o'er all women;
Of whom no less will satisfy,
Than all the sex, your tyranny:
Although you'll find it a hard province,
With all your crafty frauds and covins,
To govern such a numerous crew,
Who, one by one, now govern you;
For, if you all were Solomons,
And wise and great as he was once,
You'll find they 're able to subdue
(As they did him) and baffle you.
And if you are impos'd upon,
'Tis by your own temptation doue,
That with your ignorance invite,
And teach us how to use the sleight;
For, when we find ye 're still more taken
With false attracts of our own making,
Swear that 's a rose, and that's a stone,
Like sots, to us that laid it on,
And, what we did but slightly prime,
Most ignorantly daub in rhyme,
You force us, in our own defences,
To copy beams and influences;
To lay perfections on the graces,
And draw attracts upon our faces,
And, in compliance to your wit,
Your own false jewels counterfeit :
For by the practice of those arts
We gain a greater share of hearts;
And those deserve in reason most,
That greatest pains and study cost:
For great perfections are, like Heaven,
Too rich a present to be given.
Nor are those master-strokes o. beauty
To be perform'd without hard duty,
Which, when they 're nobly done, and well,
The simple natural excel.
How fair and sweet the planted rose
Beyond the wild in hedges grows!
For, without art, the noblest seeds
Of flowers degenerate into weeds:
How dull and rugged, ere 'tis ground
And polish'd, looks a diamond?
Though Paradise were e'er so fair,
It was not kept so without care.
The whole world, without art and dress,
Would be but one great wilderness;
And mankind but a savage herd,
For all that Nature has conferr'd:
This does but rough-hew and design,
Leaves Art to polish and refine.
Though women first were made for men,
Yet men were made for them again:
For when (out-witted by his wife)
Man first turn'd tenant but for life,
If women had not interven'd,
How soon had mankind had an end!
And that it is in being yet,
To us alone you are in debt.
And where 's your liberty of choice,
And our unnatural no-voice?
Since all the privilege you boast,
And falsely usurp'd, or vainly lost,
Is now our right, to whose creation
You owe your happy restoration.
And if we had not weighty cause
To not appear, in making laws,
We could, in spite of all your tricks,
And shallow formal politics,
Force you our managements t' obey,
As we to yours (in show) give way.
Hence 'tis that, while you vainly strive
T" advance your high prerogative,
You basely, after all your braves,
Submit, and own yourselves our slaves;
And, 'cause we do not make it known,
Nor publicly our interests own,
Like sots, suppose we have no shares
In ordering you and your affairs,
When all your empire and command
You have from us, at second-hand;
As if a pilot, that appears
To sit still only, while he steers,
And does not make a noise and stir,
Like every common mariner,
Knew nothing of the card, nor star,
And did not guide the man of war:
Nor we, because we don't appear
In councils, do not govern there;
While, like the mighty Prester John,
Whose person none dares look upon,
But is preserv'd in close disguise,
From being made cheap to vulgar eyes,
W'enjoy as large a power unseen,`
To govern him, as he does men ;
And, in the right of our pope Joan,
Make emperors at our feet fall down;
Or Joan de Pucelle's braver name,
Our right to arms and conduct claim;
Who, though a spinster, yet was able
To serve France for a grand constable.
We make and execute all laws,
Can judge the judges, and the cause;
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