Such as are lawful, and judge by

Conclufions of aftrology;

But for the devil, know nothing by him, 585

But only this, that I defy him.

Quoth he, whatever others deem ye,

I understand your metonymy;

Your words of fecond-hand intention,

When things by wrongful names you mention; The mystic sense of all your terms,

That are indeed but magic charms

To raise the devil, and mean one thing,
And that is downright conjuring;

And in itself more warrantable

Than cheat or canting to a rabble,
Or putting tricks upon the moon,
Which by confed'racy are done.
Your ancient conjurers were wont

595

To make her from her fphere difmount,

600

And to their incantation ftoop;

They scorn'd to pore thro' telescope,
Or idly play at bo-peep with her,
To find out cloudy or fair weather,
Which ev'ry almanack can tell,
Perhaps as learnedly and well

As you yourself-Then, friend, I doubt
You go the fartheft way about:
Your modern Indian magician

Makes but a hole in th' earth to pifs in,
And straight refolves all questions by 't,
And seldom fails to be i' th' right.
The rofy-crufian way's more fure

To bring the devil to the lure;
Each of 'em has a fev'ral gin,

To catch intelligences in.

Some by the nofe, with fumes, trepan 'em,
As Dunftan did the devil's grannam.

605

610

615

Others with characters and words

Catch 'em as men in nets do birds;

And some with fymbols, figns, and tricks,
Engrav'd in planetary nicks,

With their own influences will fetch 'em

620

Down from their orbs, arrest and catch 'em ;

625

Make 'em depose, and answer to

All questions, ere they let them go.

Bumbastus kept a devil's bird

Shut in the pummel of his sword,

That taught him all the cunning pranks.

630

Of past and future mountebanks.

Kelly did all his feats upon

The devil's looking-glass, a stone,

Where, playing with him at bo-peep,

That was his tutor, and the cur
Read to th' occult philofopher,

And taught him fubt❜ly to maintain

All other sciences are vain.

To this, quoth Sidrophello, Sir, Agrippa was no conjurer,

Nor Paracelfus, no, nor Behmen;

640

Nor was the dog a caco-dæmon,

But a true dog that would fhew tricks

645

For th' emp'ror, and leap o'er sticks;

Would fetch and carry, was more civil
Than other dogs, but yet no devil;

And whatfoe'er he's faid to do,

He went the self-fame way we go.

For as the rofy-cross philofophers,

Whom you will have to be but forcerers,
What they pretend to is no more

Than Trismegiftus did before,

650

Pythagoras, old Zoroaster,

And Apollonius their master,

To whom they do confefs they owe
All that they do, and all they know.

Quoth Hudibras, alas! what is 't t'us
Whether 'twas faid by Trismegiftus,
If it be nonsense, false, or myftic,
Or not intelligible, or sophistic?

'Tis not antiquity, nor author,

655

660

That makes truth truth, altho' time's daughter;

'Twas he that put her in the pit,

Before he pull'd her out of it;

And as he eats his fons, just so
He feeds upon his daughters too.

Nor does it follow, 'caufe a herald

665

Can make a gentleman, scarce a year old, 670 To be defcended of a race

Of ancient kings in a small space,