Make Mercury confess, and ’peach
Those thieves which he himself did teach.
They’ll find, i’ th’ physiognomies
O’ th’ planets, all men’s destinies;
Like him that took the doctor’s bill,
And swallow’d it instead o’ th’ pill:
Cast the nativity o’ th’ question,
And from positions to be guess’d on,
As sure as if they knew the moment
Of natives birth, tell what will come on’t.
They’ll feel the pulses of the stars,
To find out agues, coughs, catarrhs;
And tell what crisis does divine
The rot in sheep, or mange in swine
In men, 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 or 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.
This Ralpho knew, and therefore took
The other course, of which we spoke.
Thus was the accomplish’d Squire endu’d
With gifts and knowledge, per’lous shrewd.
Never did trusty Squire with Knight,
Or Knight with Squire, e’er jump more right.
Their arms and equipage did fit,
As well as virtues, parts, and wit.
Their valours too were of a rate;
And out they sally’d at the gate.
Few miles on horseback had they jogged,
But Fortune unto them turn’d dogged;
For they a sad adventure met,
Of which anon we mean to treat;
But ere we venture to unfold
Achievements so resolv’d and bold,
We should as learned poets use,
Invoke the assistance of some muse:
However, critics count it sillier
Than jugglers talking to familiar.
We think ’tis no great matter which;
They’re all alike; yet we shall pitch
On one that fits our purpose most
Whom therefore thus do we accost:
Thou that with ale, or viler liquors,
Did’st inspire Withers, Pryn, and Vickars,43
And force them, tho’ it was in spite
Of nature and their stars, to write;
Who, as we find in sullen writs,
And cross-grain’d works of modern wits,
With vanity, opinion, want,
The wonder of the ignorant,
The praises of the author, penn’d
B’ himself, or wit-ensuring friend;
The itch of picture in the front,
With bays and wicked rhyme upon’t;
All that is left o’ th’ forked hill,
To make men scribble without skill;
Canst make a poet spite of fate,
And teach all people to translate,
Tho’ out of languages in which
They understand no part of speech;
Assist me but this once, I ’mplore,
And I shall trouble thee no more.
In western clime there is a town,
To those that dwell therein well known;
Therefore there needs no more be said here;
We unto them refer our reader;
For brevity is very good,
When w’ are, or are not, understood.
To this town people did repair,
On days of market, or of fair,
And, to crack’d fiddle, and hoarse tabor,
In merriment did drudge and labour.
But now a sport more formidable
Had rak’d together village rabble;
’Twas an old way of recreating,
Which learned butchers call bear-baiting:
A bold advent’rous exercise,
With ancient heroes in high prize:
For authors do affirm it came
From Isthmian or Nemean game:
Others derive it from the bear
That’s fix’d in northern hemisphere,
And round about the pole does make
A circle like a bear at stake,
That at the chain’s end wheels about,
And overturns the rabble-rout.
For after solemn proclamation,
In the bear’s name, (as is the fashion,
According to the law of arms,
To keep men from inglorious harms,)
That none presume to come so near
As forty foot of stake of bear,
If any yet be so fool-hardy,
T’ expose themselves to vain jeopardy,
If they come wounded off, and lame,
No honour’s got by such a maim;
Altho’ the bear gain much, b’ing bound
In honour to make good his ground,
When he’s engag’d, and takes no notice,
If any press upon him, who ’tis;
But let’s them know, at their own cost,
That he intends to keep his post.
This to prevent, and other harms,
Which always wait on feats of arms
(For in the hurry of a fray
’Tis hard to keep out of harm’s way,)
Thither the Knight his course did steer,
To keep the peace ’twixt dog and bear;
As he believ’d he was bound to do
In conscience, and commission too;
And therefore thus bespoke the Squire:
We that are wisely mounted higher44
Than constables in curule wit,
When on tribunal bench we sit,
Like speculators should foresee,
From Pharos of authority,
Portended mischiefs farther then
Low Proletarian tything-men:
And therefore being inform’d by bruit,
That dog and bear are to dispute;
For so of late men fighting name,
Because they often prove the same
(For where the first does hap to be,
The last does coincidere;)
Quantum in nobis, have thought good,
To save th’ expense of Christian blood,
And try if we, by mediation
Of treaty and accommodation,
Can end the quarrel and compose
The bloody duel without blows.
Are not our liberties, our lives,
The laws, religion, and our wives,
Enough at once to lie at stake
For Cov’nant and the Cause’s sake?
But in that quarrel dogs and bears,
As well as we, must venture theirs
This feud, by Jesuits invented,
By evil counsel is fomented;
There is a Machiavelian plot,
(Tho’ every nare olfact is not,)
A deep design in’t, to divide
The well-affected that confide,
By setting brother against brother,
To claw and curry one another.
Have we not enemies, plus satis,
That, cane et angue pejus, hate us?
And shall we turn our fangs and claws
Upon our own selves, without cause?
That some occult design doth lie
In bloody cynarctomachy,45
Is plain enough to him that knows
How saints lead brothers by the nose.
I wish myself a pseudo-prophet,
But sure some mischief will come of it;
Unless by providential wit,
Or force, we averruncate it.46
For what design, what interest,
Can beast have to encounter beast?
They fight for no espoused cause,
Frail privilege, fundamental laws,
Not for a thorough reformation,
Nor covenant, nor protestation,
Nor liberty of consciences,
Nor Lords and Commons’ ordinances;
Nor for the church, nor for church-lands,
To get them in their own no-hands;
Nor evil counsellors to bring
To justice that seduce the king;
Nor for the worship of us men,
Though we have done as much for them.
Th’ Egyptians worshipp’d dogs, and for
Their faith made internecine war.
Others ador’d a rat, and some
For that church suffer’d martyrdom.
The Indians fought for the truth
Of th’ elephant and monkey’s tooth,47
And many, to defend that faith,
Fought it out, mordicus, to death.
But no beast ever was so slight,
For man, as for his God, to fight.
They have more wit, alas! and know
Themselves and us better than so.
But we, who only do
