Hudibras - Samuel Butler (story reading txt) 📗

By this time ’twas grown dark and late,
When they heard a knocking at the gate,
Laid on in haste with such a powder,
The blows grew louder still and louder;
Which Hudibras, as if th’ had been
Bestow’d as freely on his skin,
Expounding, by his inward light,
Or rather more prophetic fright,
To be the wizard, come to search,
And take him napping in the lurch,
Turn’d pale as ashes, or a clout,
But why or wherefore is a doubt;
For men will tremble, and turn paler,
With too much or too little valour.
His heart laid on, as if it try’d
To force a passage through his side,
Impatient (as he vow’d) to wait ’em,
But in a fury to fly at ’em;
And therefore beat, and laid about,
To find a cranny to creep out.
But she, who saw in what a taking
The Knight was by his furious quaking,
Undaunted cry’d, Courage, Sir Knight!
Know, I’m resolv’d to break no rite
Of hospitality t’ a stranger;
But, to secure you out of danger,
Will here myself stand sentinel,
To guard this pass ’gainst Sidrophel.
Women, you know, do seldom fail
To make the stoutest men turn tail:
And bravely scorn to turn their backs
Upon the desp’ratest attacks.
At this the Knight grew resolute
As Ironside and Hardiknute:156
His fortitude began to rally,
And out he cry’d aloud to sally,
But she besought him to convey
His courage rather out o’ th’ way,
And lodge in ambush on the floor,
Or fortify’d behind a door;
That if the enemy should enter,
He might relieve her in th’ adventure.

Meanwhile they knock’d against the door
As fierce as at the gate before,
Which made the renegado Knight
Relapse again t’ his former fright.
He thought it desperate to stay
Till th’ enemy had forc’d his way,
But rather post himself, to serve
The lady, for a fresh reserve.
His duty was not to dispute,
But what sh’ had order’d execute;
Which he resolv’d in haste t’ obey,
And therefore stoutly march’d away;
And all h’ encounter’d fell upon,
Though in the dark, and all alone;
Till fear, that braver feats performs
Than ever courage dar’d in arms,
Had drawn him up before a pass,
To stand upon his guard and face;
This he courageously invaded,
And having enter’d, barricado’d,
Insconc’d himself as formidable
As could be underneath a table,
Where he lay down in ambush close,
T’ expect th’ arrival of his foes.
Few minutes he had lain perdue,
To guard his desp’rate avenue,
Before he heard a dreadful shout,
As loud as putting to the rout,
With which impatiently alarm’d,
He fancy’d th’ enemy had storm’d,
And, after ent’ring, Sidrophel
Was fall’n upon the guards pell-mell:
He therefore sent out all his senses,
To bring him in intelligences,
Which vulgars out of ignorance,
Mistake for falling in a trance;
But those that trade in geomancy,
Affirm to be the strength of fancy;
In which the Lapland Magi deal,157
And things incredible reveal.
Meanwhile the foe beat up his quarters,
And storm’d the out-works of his fortress:
And as another of the same
Degree and party, in arms and fame,
That in the same cause had engag’d,
At war with equal conduct wag’d,
By vent’ring only but to thrust
His head a span beyond his post,
B’ a gen’ral of the cavaliers
Was dragg’d thro’ a window by the ears;
So he was serv’d in his redoubt,
And by the other end pull’d out.

Soon as they had him at their mercy,
They put him to the cudgel fiercely,
As if they’d scorn to trade or barter,
By giving or by taking quarter:
They stoutly on his quarters laid,
Until his scouts came in t’ his aid;
For when a man is past his sense,
There’s no way to reduce him thence,
But twinging him by th’ ears or nose,
Or laying on of heavy blows
And if that will not do the deed,
To burning with hot irons proceed.158
No sooner was he come t’ himself,
But on his neck a sturdy elf
Clapp’d, in a trice, his cloven hoof,
And thus attack’d him with reproof:

Mortal, thou art betray’d to us
B’ our friend, thy Evil Genius,
Who, for thy horrid perjuries,
Thy breach of faith, and turning lies,
The brethren’s privilege (against
The wicked) on themselves, the saints,
Has here thy wretched carcass sent
For just revenge and punishment;
Which thou hast now no way to lessen,
But by an open free confession;
For if we catch thee failing once,
’Twill fall the heavier on thy bones.

What made thee venture to betray,
And filch the lady’s heart away?
To spirit her to matrimony?⁠—
That which contracts all matches⁠—money.
It was th’ enchantment of her riches
That made m’ apply t’ your crony witches,
That, in return, would pay th’ expense,
The wear and tear of conscience;
Which I could have patch’d up, and turn’d,
For th’ hundredth part of what I earn’d.

Didst thou not love her then? Speak true.
No more (quoth he) than I love you.⁠—
How would’st th’ have us’d her, and her money?⁠—
First turn’d her up to alimony,
And laid her dowry out in law,
To null her jointure with a flaw,
Which I before-hand had agreed
T’ have put, on purpose in the deed;
And bar her widow’s making over
T’ a friend in trust, or private lover.

What made thee pick and choose her out,
T’ employ their sorceries about?⁠—
That which makes gamesters play with those
Who have least wit, and most to lose.

But didst thou scourge thy vessel thus,
As thou hast damn’d thyself to us?

I see you take me for an ass:
’Tis true, I thought the trick would pass
Upon a woman well enough,
As ’t has been often found by proof;
Whose humours are not to be won,
But when they are impos’d upon:
For love approves of all they do
That stand for candidates, and woo.

Why didst thou forge those shameful lies
Of bears and witches in disguise?

That is no more than authors give
The rabble credit to believe:
A trick of following their leaders,
To entertain their gentle readers;
And we have now no other way
Of passing all we do or say
Which, when ’tis natural and true,
Will be believ’d b’ a very few,
Beside the danger of offence,
The fatal enemy of sense.

Why did thou choose that cursed sin,
Hypocrisy, to set up in?

Because it is in the thriving’st calling,
The only saint-bell that rings all in;
In which all churches are concern’d,
And is the easiest to be learn’d.
For no degrees, unless they employ ’t,
Can ever gain much, or enjoy ’t:
A gift that is not only able
To domineer among the rabble,
But by the laws impower’d to rout,
And awe the greatest that stand out;
Which few hold forth against, for fear
Their hands should