The rage in them like Boute-feus;48
’Tis our example that instils
In them th’ infection of our ills.
For, as some late philosophers.
Have well observ’d, beasts that converse
With man, take after him, as hogs
Get pigs all th’ year, and bitches dogs.
Just so, by our example, cattle
Learn to give one another battle.
We read, in Nero’s time, the heathen,
When they destroy’d the Christian brethren,
Did sew them in the skins of bears,
And then set dogs about their ears:
From thence, no doubt, th’ invention came
Of this lewd antichristian game.
To this, quoth Ralpho, Verily
The point seems very plain to me.
It is an antichristian game,
Unlawful both in thing and name.
First, for the name: the word, bear-baiting
Is carnal, and of man’s creating:
For certainly there’s no such word
In all the Scripture on record;
Therefore unlawful, and a sin;
And so is (secondly) the thing.
A vile assembly ’tis, that can
No more be prov’d by Scripture than
Provincial, classic, national;
Mere human creature-cobwebs all.
Thirdly, it is idolatrous;
For when men run a whoring thus
With their inventions, whatsoe’er
The thing be, whether dog or bear,
It is idolatrous and pagan,
No less than worshipping of Dagon.
Quoth Hudibras, I smell a rat:
Ralpho, thou dost prevaricate;
For though the thesis which thou lay’st
Be true ad amussim, as thou say’st;
(For that bear-baiting should appear
Jure divino, lawfuller
Than synods are, thou dost deny,
Totidem verbis: so do I;)
Yet there’s a fallacy in this;
For if by sly homœosis,
Tussis pro crepitu, an art
Under a cough to slur a fart,
Thou wouldst sophistically imply
Both are unlawful, I deny.
And I (quoth Ralpho) do not doubt
But bear-baiting may be made out,
In gospel-times, as lawful as is
Provincial or parochial classis;
And that both are so near of kin,
And like in all, as well as sin,
That put them in a bag, and shake ’em,
Yourself o’ th’ sudden would mistake ’em,
And not know which is which, unless
You measure by their wickedness:
For ’tis not hard t’imagine whether
O’ th’ two is worst; tho’ I name neither.
Quoth Hudibras, Thou offer’st much,
But art not able to keep touch.
Mira de lente, as ’tis i’ th’ adage,
Id est, to make a leek a cabbage;
Thou wilt at best but such a bull,
Or shear-swine, all cry and no wool;
For what can synods have at all
With bear that’s analogical?
Or what relation has debating
Of church-affairs with bear-baiting?
A just comparison still is
Of things ejusdem generis;
And then what genius rightly doth
Include and comprehend them both?
If animal, both of us may
As justly pass for bears as they;
For we are animals no less,
Altho’ of different specieses.
But, Ralpho, this is no fit place
Nor time to argue out the case:
For now the field is not far off,
Where we must give the world a proof
Of deeds, not words, and such as suit
Another manner of dispute;
A controversy that affords
Actions for arguments, not words;
Which we must manage at a rate
Of prowess and conduct adequate
To what our place and fame doth promise,
And all the godly expect from us.
Nor shall they be deceiv’d, unless
We’re slurr’d and outed by success;
Success, the mark no mortal wit,
Or surest hand, can always hit:
For whatsoe’er we perpetrate,
We do but row, we’re steer’d by Fate,
Which in success oft disinherits,
For spurious causes, noblest merits.
Great actions are not always true sons
Of great and mighty resolutions;
Nor do th’ boldest attempts bring forth
Events still equal to their worth;
But sometimes fail, and in their stead
Fortune and cowardice succeed.
Yet we have no great cause to doubt;
Our actions still have borne us out;
Which, tho’ they’re known to be so ample,
We need not copy from example.
We’re not the only persons durst
Attempt this province, nor the first.
In northern clime a val’rous knight
Did whilom kill his bear in fight,
And wound a fiddler; we have both
Of these the objects of our wroth,
And equal fame and glory from
Th’ attempt of victory to come.
’Tis sung, there is a valiant Mamaluke49
In foreign land, yclep’d—
To whom we have been oft compar’d
For person, parts, address, and beard;
Both equally reputed stout,
And in the same cause both have fought;
He oft in such attempts as these
Came off with glory and success;
Nor will we fail in th’ execution,
For want of equal resolution.
Honour is like a widow, won50
With brisk attempt and putting on;
With ent’ring manfully, and urging;
Not slow approaches, like a virgin.
’Tis said, as erst the Phrygian knight,
So ours with rusty steel did smite
His Trojan horse, and just as much
He mended pace upon the touch;
But from his empty stomach groan’d
Just as that hollow beast did sound,
And angry answer’d from behind,
With brandish’d tail and blast of wind.
So have I seen, with armed heel,
A wight bestride a common-weal;
While still the more he kick’d and spurr’d
The less the sullen jade had stirr’d.
Canto II
The catalogue and character
Of th’ enemies best men of war;
Whom, in bold harangue, the Knight
Defies, and challenges to fight.
H’ encounters Talgol, routs the Bear,
And takes the Fiddler prisoner,
Conveys him to enchanted castle;
There shuts him fast in wooden bastile.
There was an ancient sage philosopher,
That had read Alexander Ross over,
And swore the world, as he could prove,
Was made of fighting and of love:
Just so Romances are, for what else
Is in them all, but love and battles?
O’ th’ first of these we’ve no great matter
To treat of, but a world o’ th’ latter;
In which to do the injur’d right
We mean, in what concerns just fight.
Certes our authors are to blame,
For to make some well-sounding name
A pattern fit for modern knights
To copy out in frays and fights;
Like those that a whole street do raze
To build a palace in the place.
They never care how many others
They kill, without regard of mothers,
Or wives, or children, so they can
Make up some fierce, dead-doing man,
Compos’d of many ingredient valours,
Just like the manhood of nine tailors.
So a wild Tartar, when he spies
A man that’s handsome, valiant, wise,
If he can kill him, thinks t’ inherit
His wit, his beauty, and his spirit;
As if just so much he enjoy’d
As in another is destroy’d.
For when a giant’s slain in fight,
And mow’d o’erthwart, or cleft downright,
It is a heavy case, no doubt,
A man should have his brains beat out
Because he’s tall, and has large bones;
As men kill beavers for their stones.
But as for our part, we shall tell
The
