« 이전계속 »
For when thy Vessel is new baop'd,
All Leaks of finning will be stop'd.
Quoth Ralpbo, You mistake the matter ;
For in all Scruples of this Nature,
No Man includes himself, nor turns
The Point upon his own Concerns.
As no Man of his own self catches
The Itch, or amorous Frencb Aches :
So no Man does himself convince
By his own Doctrine of his Sins :
And tho'all cry down self, none means
His own self in a litoral Sence :
Beside, it is not only Foppish,
But Vile, Idolatrous and Popisl ;
For one Man out of his own Skin,
To ferk and whip another's Sin:
As Pedants out of School-boys Breeches
Do claw and curry their own Itches.
But in this Cafe it is Prophane,
And Sinful too, because in vain;
For we must take our Oaths upon it
You did the Deed, when I had done it.
Quoth Hulibras, That's answer'd soon; Give us the TV bip, we'll lay it on.
Quoth Ralpbo, That we may swear true,
"Twere properer that I whipp'd you:
For when with your consent 'tis done,
The A&t is really your own.
Quoth Hudibras, It is in vain
(I fee) to argue 'gainst the grain;
Or, like the Stars, incline Men to
What they're averse themselves to do:
For when Difputes are weary'd out, -
'Tis Intrest that refolves the Doubt:
But since no Reason can confute ye,
I'll try to force you to your Duty;
For so it is, howe're you mince it,
As e're we part I shall evince it
And curry (if you stand out) whether
You will or no your stubborn Leather.
Canst thou refuse to bear thy part,
I'th' publick Work, base as thou art?
To higgle thus for a few Blows,
To gain thy Knight an op'lent Spouse;
Whose wealth his bowels yearn to purchase; -
Meerly for th’ Int'rest of the Churches 3
And when he has it in his Claws,
Will not be hide-bound to the Cause ;
Nor shalt thou find him a Curmudgin,
If thou dispatch it without grudging :
If not, resolve before we go,
That You and I must pull a Crow.
Y' had best (quoth Ralpko) as the Ancients
Say wisely, Have a care o' tk main Chance,
And look before you e’er you leap ;
For as you fow, you're like to reap :
And were y'as good as George-a-Green,
I shall make bold to turn agen;
Nor am I doubtful of the Iflue
In a just Quarrel; and mine is so.
Is't fitting for a Man of Honour
To whip the Saints like Bishop Bonner ?
A Knight t ufurp the Beadle's Office,
For which y’are like to raise brave Trophies:
But I advise you (not for fear,
But for your own sake) to forbear;
And for the Church's, which may chance
From hence to spring a Variance ;
And raise among themselves new Scruples,
Whom common Danger hardly couples.
Remember how in Arms and Politicks,
We still have worsted all your Holy Tricks;
Trepann'd your Party with Intrigue,
And took your Grandees down a reg;
New modell’dl th’ Army, and Cashierd
All that to Legion S MEC adher'd ;
Made a meer Utensil of your Church,
And after left it in the lurch,
A Scaffold to build up our own,
And when w'had done with 't pull'd it down;
Capoch'd your Rabbins of the Synod,
And snap'd their Canons with a Wby-not,
(Grave Synod-men, that were rever'd
For solid Face and depth of Beard)
Their Claffick Model prov'd a Maggot,
Their Dire&try an Indian Pagod,
And drown'd their Discpline like a Kitten,
On which th' had been so long a fitting ;
Decry'd it as a Holy Cheat,
Grown out of Date, and Obsolete,
And all the Saints of the first Grass,
As Caftling Foals of Bal'am's Afs.
At this the Knight grew high in Chàfe,
And staring furiously on Ralph,
He trembled, and look d pale with Ire,
Like Ashes first, then Red as Fire.
Have I (quoth he) been ta’n in Fight,
And for so many Moons lain by't ;
And when all other means did fail,
Hare been exchang'd for Tubs of Ale?
Not but they thought me worth a Ransome,
Much more considerable and handsome,
But for their own fakes, and for fear,
They were not safe when I was there;
Now to be baffled by a Scoundrel,
An upstart Se&try and a Mungrel;
Such as breed out of peccant Humours
Of our own Church, like Wens, or Tumours;
And like a Maggor in a Sore,
Wou'd that which gave it life devour ;