And cannons shoot the higher pitches,

The lower we let down their breeches ;

I'll make this low dejected fate

Advance me to a greater height.

Quoth fhe, You 'ave almoft made me' in love With that which did my pity move.

Great wits and valours, like great states,

265

Do fometimes fink with their own weights:

270

Th' extremes of glory and of fhame,

Like east and weft, become the fame.
No Indian prince has to his palace

More followers than a thief to the gallows.

But if a beating feem fo brave,

275

What glories must a whipping have?
Such great atchievements cannot fail
To caft falt on a woman's tail:
For if I thought your natural talent
Of paffive courage were fo gallant,
As you ftrain hard to have it thought,

280

I could grow amorous, and doat,

When Hudibras this language heard,

He prick'd up 's ears, and ftroak'd his beard.

How I've been drubb'd, and with what fpirit
And magnanimity I bear it;

Which if you have, you must needs know
What I have told you before now,
And you b' experiment have prov'd,
I cannot love where I'm belov'd.
Quoth Hudibras, 'Tis a caprich

305

Beyond th' infliction of a witch;
So cheats to play with those still aim,
That do not understand the game.

Love in your heart as idly burns
As fire in antique Roman urns

To warm the dead, and vainly light
Thofe only that fee nothing by 't.
Have you not power to entertain,
And render love for love again;
As no man can draw in his breath
At once, and force out air beneath?

Or do you love yourself so much,
To bear all rivals elfe a grutch?
What fate can lay a greater curfe
Than you upon yourself would force?
For wedlock without love, fome fay,
Is but a lock without a key.

319

315

320

It

It is a kind of rape to marry

One that neglects, or cares not for ye :
For what does make it ravifhment
But being against the mind's confent?
A rape that is the more inhuman,
For being acted by a woman.
Why are you fair, but to entice us

To love you, that you may despise us?
But though you cannot love, you say,
Out of your own fanatick way,
Why should you not at least allow
Thofe that love you to do so too?
For, as you fly me, and purfue
Love more averfe, fo I do you ;
And am by your own doctrine taught
To practife what you call a fault.

325

330

335

Quoth fhe, if what you say is true,

You must fly me as I do you;
But 'tis not what we do, but fay,

340

In love and preaching, that must sway..
Quoth he, To bid me not to love,

Is to forbid my pulse to move,

My.

Ver. 332.] Fanatique in fome of the firft editions, and fanatick in the reft, from 1700, if not fooner, to this time. Might not fantafick have been as proper, as his mistress expreffes herielf, Verfes 545, 546 ?.

And yet 'tis no fantastick pique

I have to love, nor coy dislike.

My beard to grow, my ears to prick up,

Or (when I'm in a fit) to hiccup.
Command me to pifs out the moon,
And 'twill as easily be done.

345

Love's power 's too great to be withstood

By feeble human flesh and blood.

350

'Twas he that brought upon his knees
The hectoring kill-cow Hercules;
Transform'd his leager-lion's skin
T'a petticoat, and made him fpin;

Seiz'd on his club, and made it dwindle

355

T'a feeble diftaff and a spindle.
'Twas he that made Emperors gallants
To their own fifters and their aunts;
Set Popes and Cardinals agog,

To play with pages at leap-frog:

360

'Twas he that gave our Senate purges,

And fluxt the House of many a burgess;

Made thofe that represent the nation
Submit, and fuffer amputation;
And all the Grandees o' th' Cabal
Adjourn to tubs at spring and fall.
He mounted Synod-men, and rode them
To Dirty-Lane and Little Sodom;
Made them curvet like Spanish Jenets,
And take the ring at Madam

-'s,

365

370 'Twas

Ver. 370. And take the ring at Madam - -'s] Stennet was the perfon whofe name was dafhed, fays Sir Roger L'Eftrange, (Key to Hudibras.) "Her husband

❝ was

'Twas he that made Saint Francis do

More than the devil could tempt him to,
In cold and frofty weather grow
Enamour'd of a wife of fnow;

And though the were of rigid temper,
With melting flames accoft and tempt her,
Which after in enjoyment quenching,
He hung a garland on his engine.
Quoth fhe, If love have these effects,
Why is it not forbid our fex ?
Why is 't not damn'd and interdicted,
For diabolical and wicked?

375

380

This made the beauteous Queen of Crete
To take a town-bull for her fweet;

And

was by profeffion a broom-man, and lay-elder. She << followed the laudable employment of bawding, and -managed feveral intrigues for thofe Brothers and Sifters whofe purity confifted chiefly in the whitenefs of their linen."