And one more fair address, to get her.
Who would believe what strange bugbears
Mankind creates itself, of fears
That spring like fern, that insect weed,
Equivocally, without seed;
And have no possible foundation,
But merely in th’ imagination;
And yet can do more dreadful feats
Than hags, with all their imps and teats;199
Make more bewitch and haunt themselves
Than all their nurseries of elves?
For fear does things so like a witch,
’Tis hard t’ unriddle which is which.
Sets up Communities of senses,
To chop and change intelligences;
As Rosicrucian virtuosos200
Can see with ears, and hear with noses;
And when they neither see nor hear,
Have more than both supply’d by fear;
That makes ’em in the dark see visions,
And hag themselves with apparitions;
And when their eyes discover least,
Discern the subtlest objects best:
Do things not contrary, alone,
To th’ course of nature, but its own;
The courage of the bravest daunt,
And turn poltroons as valiant,
For men as resolute appear
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 fled, like lions, rout.
This Hudibras had prov’d too true,
Who, by the furies left perdue,
And haunted with detachments, sent
From Marshal Legion’s regiment,201
Was by a fiend, as counterfeit,
Reliev’d and rescu’d with a cheat;
When nothing but himself, and fear,
Was both the imp and conjurer;
As, by the rules o’ th’ virtuosi,
It follows in due form of poesie.
Disguis’d in all the masks of night,
We left our champion on his flight,
At blindman’s buff, to grope his way,
In equal fear of night and day;
Who took his dark and desp’rate course,
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 less capacity, of speed;
Disabled, both in man and beast,
To fly and run away his best;
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 side
(As seamen ride with all their force,
And tug as if they row’d the horse,
And when the hackney sails most swift,
Believe they lag, or run adrift,)
So, though he posted e’er so fast,
His fear was greater than his haste:
For fear, though fleeter than the wind,
Believes ’tis always left behind.
But when the morn began t’ appear,
And shift t’ another scene his fear,
He found his new officious shade,
That came so timely to his aid,
And forc’d him from the foe t’ escape,
Had turn’d itself to Ralpho’s shape;
So like in person, garb, and pitch,
’Twas hard t’ interpret which was which.
For Ralpho had no sooner told
The Lady all he had t’ unfold,
But she convey’d him out of sight,
To entertain th’ approaching Knight;
And, while he gave himself diversion,
T’ accommodate his beast and person,
And put his beard into a posture
At best advantage to accost her,
She ordered the anti-masquerade
(For his reception) aforesaid:
But when the ceremony was done,
The lights put out, and furies gone,
And Hudibras, among the rest,
Convey’d away, as Ralpho guess’d,
The wretched caitiff, all alone,
(As he believ’d) began to moan,
And tell his story to himself,
The Knight mistook him for an elf;
And did so still, till he began
To scruple at Ralph’s outward man;
And thought, because they oft agreed
T’ appear in one another’s stead,
And act the saint’s and devil’s part
With undistinguishable art,
They might have done so now, perhaps,
And put on one another’s shapes:
And therefore, to resolve the doubt,
He star’d upon him, and cry’d out,
What art? My Squire, or that bold sprite
That took his place and shape to-night?
Some busy, independent pug,
Retainer to his synagogue?
Alas! quoth he, I’m none of those,
Your bosom friends, as you suppose;
But Ralph himself, your trusty Squire,
Wh’ has dragg’d your Donship out o’ th’ mire,
And from the enchantments of a widow,
Wh’ had turn’d you int’ a beast, have freed you;
And, though a prisoner of war,
Have brought you safe where you now are;
Which you would gratefully repay
Your constant Presbyterian way.
That’s stranger (quoth the Knight) and stranger;
Who gave thee notice of my danger?
Quoth he, Th’ infernal conjurer
Pursu’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 said or did:
And though they lay to him the pageant,
I did not see him, nor his agent;
Who play’d their sorceries out of sight,
T’ avoid a fiercer second fight.
But didst thou see no devils then?
Not one (quoth he) but carnal men,
A little worse than fiends in hell,
And that she-devil Jezebel,
That laugh’d and tee-he’d with derision,
To see them take your deposition.
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 parson’s gown,
Whom all the parish take for gifted;
But, for my part, I ne’er believ’d it:
In which you told them all your feats,
Your conscientious frauds and cheats;
Deny’d your whipping, and confest
The naked truth of all the rest,
More plainly than the rev’rend writer,202
That to our churches veil’d his mitre;
All which they took in black and white,
And cudgell’d me to under-write.
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 constant rate
And frame of sp’rit too obstinate
To be by me prevail’d upon
With any motives of my own;
And therefore strove to counterfeit
The dev’l a-while, to nick your wit;
The dev’l, that is your constant crony,
That only can prevail upon ye;
Else we might still have been disputing,
And they with weighty drubs confuting.
The Knight who now began to find
Th’ had left the enemy behind,
And saw no farther harm remain,
But feeble weariness and pain,
Perceiv’d, by losing of their way,
Th’ had 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 dismiss his fear,
That parting’s want to rent and tear,
And give the desperat’st attack
To danger still behind its back:
For having paus’d to recollect,
And on his past success reflect,
T’ examine and consider why,
And whence, and how, they came to fly,
And when no devil had appear’d,
What else, it could be said, he fear’d;
It put him in so fierce a rage,
He once resolv’d to re-engage;
Toss’d like a foot-ball back again,
With shame and vengeance, and
