Hudibras - Samuel Butler (story reading txt) 📗

acquaint the Lady what h’ had done,
And what he meant to carry on;
What project ’twas he went about,
When Sidrophel and he fell out;
His firm and steadfast resolution,
To swear her to an execution;
To pawn his inward ears to marry her,140
And bribe the devil himself to carry her;
In which both dealt, as if they meant
Their party-saints to represent,
Who never fail’d, upon their sharing
In any prosperous arms-bearing,
To lay themselves out to supplant
Each other cousin German saint.
But, ere the Knight could do his part,
The Squire had got so much the start,
H’ had to the Lady done his errand,
And told her all his tricks aforehand.
Just as he finish’d his report,
The Knight alighted in the court;
And having ty’d his beast t’ a pale,
And taking time for both to stale,
He put his band and beard in order,
The sprucer to accost and board her:
And now began t’ approach the door,
When she, wh’ had spy’d him out before,
Convey’d th’ informer out of sight,
And went to entertain the Knight;
With whom encount’ring, after longees
Of humble and submissive congees,
And all due ceremonies paid,
He strok’d his beard, and thus he said:

Madam, I do, as is my duty,
Honour the shadow of your shoe-tie;
And now am come to bring your ear
A present you’ll be glad to hear:
At least I hope so: the thing’s done,
Or may I never see the sun;
For which I humbly now demand
Performance at your gentle hand;
And that you’d please to do your part,
As I have done mine, to my smart.

With that he shrugg’d his sturdy back,
As if he felt his shoulders ake.

But she, who well enough knew what
(Before he spoke) he would be at,
Pretended not to apprehend
The mystery of what he mean’d;
And therefore wish’d him to expound
His dark expressions less profound.

Madam, quoth he, I come to prove
How much I’ve suffer’d for your love,
Which (like your votary) to win,
I have not spar’d my tatter’d skin;
And for those meritorious lashes,
To claim your favour and good graces.

Quoth she, I do remember once
I freed you from th’ enchanted sconce;
And that you promis’d, for that favour,
To bind your back to good behaviour,
And, for my sake and service, vow’d
To lay upon’t a heavy load,
And what ’twould bear t’ a scruple prove,
As other knights do oft make love;
Which, whether you have done or no,
Concerns yourself, not me, to know.
But if you have, I shall confess
Y’ are honester than I could guess.

Quoth he, If you suspect my troth,
I cannot prove it but by oath;
And if you make a question on’t,
I’ll pawn my soul that I have done ’t;
And he that makes his soul his surety,
I think, does give the best security.

Quoth she, Some say, the soul’s secure
Against distress and forfeiture;
Is free from action, and exempt
From execution and contempt;
And to be summon’d to appear
In th’ other world’s illegal here;
And therefore few make any account
Int’ what incumbrances they run ’t:
For most men carry things so even
Between this world, and hell, and heaven,
Without the least offence to either,
They freely deal in all together;
And equally abhor to quit
This world for both, or both for it;
And when they pawn and damn their souls,
They are but pris’ners on paroles.

For that (quoth he) ’tis rational
They may be accountable in all:
For when there is that intercourse
Between divine and human pow’rs,
That all that we determine here
Commands obedience every where,
When penalties may be commuted
For fines, or ears, and executed
It follows, nothing binds so fast
As souls in pawn and mortgage past;
For oaths are th’ only tests and seals
Of right and wrong, and true and false;
And there’s no other way to try
The doubts of law and justice by.

Quoth she, What is it you would swear?
There’s no believing till I hear;
For, till they’re understood, all tales
(Like nonsense) are not true nor false.

Quoth he, When I resolv’d t’ obey
What you commanded th’ other day,
And to perform my exercise,
(As schools are wont) for your fair eyes,
T’ avoid all scruples in the case,
I went to do’t upon the place:
But as the Castle is enchanted
By Sidrophel, the witch, and haunted
With evil spirits, as you know,
Who took my Squire and me for two,
Before I’d hardly time to lay
My weapons by, and disarray,
I heard a formidable noise,
Loud as the Stentrophonic voice,141
That roar’d far off, Dispatch and strip,
I’m ready with the infernal whip,
That shall divest thy ribs from skin,
To expiate thy ling’ring sin:
Th’ hast broken perfidiously thy oath,
And not perform’d thy plighted troth;
But spar’d thy renegado back,
Where th’ hadst so great a prize at stake;
Which now the fates have order’d me
For penance and revenge to flea,
Unless thou presently make haste:
Time is, time was: And there it ceas’d.
With which, though startled, I confess,
Yet th’ horror of the thing was less
Than th’ other dismal apprehension
Of interruption or prevention;
And therefore, snatching up the rod,
I laid upon my back a load;
Resolv’d to spare no flesh and blood,
To make my word and honour good;
Till tir’d, and making truce at length,
For new recruits of breath and strength,
I felt the blows still ply’d as fast
As th’ had been by lovers plac’d,142
In raptures of Platonic lashing,
And chaste contemplative bardashing;
When facing hastily about,
To stand upon my guard and scout,
I found th’ infernal cunning-man,
And th’ under-witch, his Caliban,
With scourges (like the furies) arm’d,
That on my outward quarters storm’d.
In haste I snatch’d my weapon up,
And gave their hellish rage a stop;
Call’d thrice upon your name, and fell
Courageously on Sidrophel;
Who now transform’d himself t’ a bear,
Began to roar aloud, and tear;
When I as furiously press’d on,
My weapon down his throat to run;
Laid hold on him; but he broke loose
And turn’d himself into a goose;
Div’d under water, in a pond,
To hide himself from being found.
In vain I sought him; but, as soon
As I perceiv’d him fled and gone,
Prepar’d with equal haste and rage,
His under-sorcerer t’ engage.
But bravely scorning to defile
My sword with feeble blood and vile,
I judg’d it better from a quick-
Set hedge to cut a knotted stick,
With which I furiously laid on,
Till in a harsh and doleful tone,
It roar’d, O hold for pity, Sir:
I am too great a sufferer,
Abus’d, as you have been, b’ a witch,
But conjur’d into a worse caprich;
Who sends me out on many a jaunt,
Old houses in the night to