HUDIBRAS. HUDIBRAS CONSULTS THE LAWYER. QUOTH he, "There is one Sidrophel Whom I have cudgelled "—" Very well." "And now he brags t' have beaten me" Better, and better still," quoth he; "And vows to stick me to a wall, Which was the cause that made me bang him, And take my goods again "-"Marry, hang him." "Now, whether I should beforehand, Swear he robbed me?"-"I understand "Or, if 'tis better to indict, And bring him to his trial?”—“ Right”"Prevent what he designs to do, And swear for th' state against him?"-"True" "Or whether he that is defendant, In this case, has the better end on 't; Who, putting in a new cross-bill, May traverse the action?"-" Better still." A widow, who, by solemn vows, Combined with him to break her word, "Suborned th' aforesaid Sidrophel To tamper with the devil of hell, SAMUEL BUTLER. Who put m' into a horrid fear, Fear of my life"-"Make that appear ""Made an assault with fiends and men Upon my body"-"Good again ""And kept me in a deadly fright, And false imprisonment, all night. Meanwhile they robbed me, and my horse, And stole my saddle"-"Worse and worse "And made me mount upon the bare ridge, T' avoid a wretcheder miscarriage." "Sir," quoth the lawyer, "not to flatter ye, You have as good and fair a battery As heart can wish, and need not shame The proudest man alive to claim: Both go by destiny so clear, That you as sure may pick and choose, SURE there are poets which did never dream Those made not poets, but the poets those. And as courts make not kings, but kings the court, So where the Muses and their train resort, Parnassus stands; if I can be to thee A poet, thou Parnassus art to me. SIR JOHN DENHAM. My eye descending from the Hill, surveys Where Thames among the wanton valleys strays. Though with those streams he no resemblance hold His genuine and less guilty wealth t' explore, The mower's hopes, nor mock the ploughman's toil; Brings home to us, and makes both Indies ours; So that to us no thing, no place is strange, My great example, as it is my theme! TELL me not, sweet! I am unkind, Of thy chaste breast, and quiet mind, True, a new mistress now I chase, And, with a stronger faith, embrace Yet this inconstancy is such I could not love thee, dear! so much, TO ALTHEA, FROM PRISON. WHEN Love, with unconfinèd wings, To whisper at the grates; |