Hudibras - Samuel Butler (story reading txt) 📗

are at their own dispose,
With greater disadvantage choose.
All this is right; but for the course
You take to do ’t, by fraud or force,
’Tis so ridiculous, as soon
As told, ’tis never to be done,
No more than setters can betray,
That tell what tricks they are to play.
Marriage, at best, is but a vow,
Which all men either break or bow:
Then what will those forbear to do,
Who perjure when they do but woo?
Such as before-hand swear and lie
For earnest to their treachery,
And, rather than a crime confess,
With greater strive to make it less?
Like thieves, who, after sentence past,
Maintain their innocence to the last;
And when their crimes were made appear
As plain as witnesses can swear,
Yet, when the wretches come to die,
Will take upon their death a lie.
Nor are the virtues you confess’d
T’ your ghostly father, as you guess’d,
So slight as to be justify’d
By being as shamefully deny’d;
As if you thought your word would pass
Point-blank, on both sides of a case;
Or credit were not to be lost
B’ a brave Knight-Errant of the Post,
That eats perfidiously his word,
And swears his ears through a two-inch board;
Can own the same thing, and disown,
And perjure booty, pro and con;
Can make the Gospel serve his turn,
And help him out, to be forsworn;
When ’tis laid hands upon, and kist,
To be betray’d and sold, like Christ.
These are the virtues in whose name
A right to all the world you claim,
And boldly challenge a dominion,
In grace and nature, o’er all women;
Of whom no less will satisfy
Than all the sex your tyranny.
Although you’ll find it a hard province,
With all your crafty frauds and covins,
To govern such a num’rous crew,
Who, one by one, now govern you;
For if you all were Solomons,
And wise and great as he was once,
You’ll find they’re able to subdue
(As they did him) and baffle you.

And if you are impos’d upon,
’Tis by your own temptation done,
That with your ignorance invite,
And teach us how to use the slight;
For when we find y’ are still more taken
With false attracts of our own making,
Swear that’s a rose, and that a stone,
Like sots, to us that laid it on,
And what we did but slightly prime,
Most ignorantly daub in rhyme;
You force us, in our own defences,
To copy beams and influences;
To lay perfections on the graces,
And draw attracts upon our faces,
And, in compliance to your wit,
Your own false jewels counterfeit:
For by the practice of those arts
We gain a greater share of hearts;
And those deserve in reason most
That greatest pains and study cost:
For great perfections are, like heaven,
Too rich a present to be given.
Nor are these master-strokes of beauty
To be perform’d without hard duty,
Which, when they’re nobly done and well,
The simple natural excel.
How fair and sweet the planted rose
Beyond the wild in hedges grows!
For without art the noblest seeds
Of flow’rs degen’rate into weeds.
How dull and rugged, ere ’tis ground
And polish’d looks a diamond!
Though Paradise were e’er so fair,
It was not kept so without care.
The whole world, without art and dress,
Would be but one great wilderness;
And mankind but a savage herd,
For all that nature has conferr’d:
This does but rough-hew, and design;
Leaves art to polish and refine.
Though women first were made for men,
Yet men were made for them agen;
For when (outwitted by his wife)
Man first turn’d tenant but for life,
If women had not interven’d,
How soon had mankind had an end!
And that it is in being yet,
To us alone you are in debt.
And where’s your liberty of choice,
And our unnatural no voice?
Since all the privilege you boast,
And falsely usurp’d, or vainly lost,
Is now our right; to whose creation
You owe your happy restoration;
And if we had not weighty cause
To not appear, in making laws,
We could, in spite of all your tricks,
And shallow, formal politics,
Force you our managements t’ obey,
As we to yours (in show) give way.
Hence ’tis that, while you vainly strive
T’ advance your high prerogative,
You basely, after all your braves,
Submit, and own yourselves our slaves;
And ’cause we do not make it known,
Nor publicly our int’rest own,
Like sots, suppose we have no shares
In ord’ring you and your affairs;
When all your empire and command
You have from us at second hand;
As if a pilot, that appears
To sit still only while he steers,
And does not make a noise and stir,
Like ev’ry common mariner,
Knew nothing of the card, nor star,
And did not guide the man-of-war;
Nor we, because we don’t appear
In councils, do not govern there;
While, like the mighty Prester John,219
Whose person none dares look upon,
But is preserv’d in close disguise,
From being made cheap to vulgar eyes,
W’ enjoy as large a pow’r unseen,
To govern him, as he does men;
And in the right of our Pope Joan,
Make Emp’rors at our feet fall down:
Or Joan de Pucel’s braver name,220
Our right to arms and conduct claim;
Who, though a Spinster, yet was able
To serve France for a Grand Constable.

We make and execute all laws,
Can judge the judges and the cause;
Prescribe all rules of right or wrong
To th’ long robe, and the longer tongue,
’Gainst which the world has no defence;
But our more pow’rful eloquence.
We manage things of greatest weight
In all the world’s affairs of state;
Are ministers of war and peace,
That sway all nations how we please.
We rule all churches and their flocks,
Heretical and orthodox;
And are the heavenly vehicles
O’ th’ spirits in all conventicles.
By us is all commerce and trade
Improv’d, and manag’d, and decay’d;
For nothing can go off so well,
Nor bears that price, as what we sell.
We rule in ev’ry public meeting,
And make men do what we judge fitting;
Are magistrates in all great towns,
Where men do nothing but wear gowns.
We make the man-of-war strike sail,
And to our braver conduct veil,
And, when h’ has chas’d his enemies,
Submit to us upon his knees.
Is there an officer of state
Untimely rais’d, or magistrate,
That’s haughty and imperious?
He’s but a journeyman to us.
That as he gives us cause to do ’t,
Can keep him in, or turn him out.

We are your guardians, that increase
Or waste your fortunes how we please;
And, as you humour us, can deal
In all your matters, ill or well.

’Tis we that can dispose, alone,
Whether your heirs shall be your own,
To whose integrity you must,
In spite of all your caution, trust;
And, ’less you fly beyond