Advanc'd on for the widow's house,
T acquit himself, and pay his vows;
When various thoughts began to bustle,
And with his inward man to justle.
He thought what danger might accrue,
If the fhould find he fwore untrue;
Or if his squire or he should fail,
And not be punctual in their tale,
It might at once the ruin prove
Both of his honour, faith, and love:
But if he should forbear to go,
She might conclude he 'ad broke his vow;
And that he durft not now, for fhame,
Appear in court to try his claim.
This was the penn'worth of his thought,
To pass time, and uneafy trot.
Quoth he, in all my past adventures
I ne'er was fet fo on the tenters,
Or taken tardy with dilemma,
That, ev'ry way I turn, does hem me,
And with inextricable doubt,
Besets my puzzled wits about :
For though the dame has been my bail,
To free me from enchanted jail,
Yet, as a dog committed close
For fome offence, by chance breaks loose,
And quits his clog; but all in vain,
He ftill draws after him his chain :
So tho' my ancle she has quitted,
My heart continues ftill committed;
And like a bail'd and mainpriz'd lover,
Altho' at large, I am bound over:
And when I fhall appear in court
To plead my cause, and answer for 't,
Unless the judge do partial prove,
What will become of me and love?
For if in our accounts we vary,
Or but in circumftance miscarry ;
Or if she put me to strict proof,
And make me pull my doublet off,
To fhew, by evident record,
Writ on my skin, I've kept my word,
How can I e'er expect to have her,
Having demurr'd unto her favour?
But faith, and love, and honour loft,
Shall be reduc'd t' a knight o' th' poft:
Beside, that stripping may prevent
What I'm to prove by argument,
And justify I have a tail,
And that way, too, my proof may fail.
Oh! that I could enucleate,
And folve the problems of my fate;
Or find, by necromantic art,
How far the dest'nies take my part;
For if I were not more than certain
To win and wear her, and her fortune,
I'd go no farther in this courtship,
To hazard foul, estate, and worship :
For tho' an oath obliges not,
Where any thing is to be got,
As thou haft prov'd, yet 'tis profane,
And finful, when men fwear in vain.
Quoth Ralph, not far from hence doth dwell
A cunning man, hight Sidrophel,
That deals in destiny's dark counsels,
And fage opinions of the moon sells,
To whom all people far and near,
On deep importances repair:
When brafs and pewter hap to stray,
And linen flinks out of the way ;
When geese and pullen are feduc'd,
And fows of fucking pigs are chous'd;
When cattle feel indisposition,
And need the opinion of physician;
When murrain reigns in hogs or sheep,
And chickens languish of the pip ;
When yeft and outward means do fail,
And have no pow'r to work on ale;
When butter does refuse to come,
And love proves cross and humourfome;
To him with questions, and with urine,
They for discov'ry flock, or curing.
Quoth Hudibras, this Sidrophel
I've heard of, and fhou'd like it well,
If thou canst prove the faints have freedom
To go to forc'rers when they need 'em.
Says Ralpho there's no doubt of that;
Those principles I've quoted late,
Prove that the godly may allege
For any thing their privilege,
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