The farthest way about t' o'ercome,

I' th' end does prove the nearest home;
By laws of learned duellists,

They that are bruis'd with wood or fists,

280

And think one beating may for once

Suffice, are cowards and poltroons :
But if they dare engage t' a second,

They're stout and gallant fellows reckon❜d.
Th' old Romans freedom did bestow,
Our princes worship with a blow:

King Pyrrhus cur'd his splenetic

And testy courtiers with a kick.

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The Negus, when some mighty lord
Or potentate 's to be restor❜d

240

And pardon'd for some great offence,
With which he's willing to dispense;
First has him laid upon his belly,
Then beaten back and side, t' a jelly:
That done, he rises, humbly bows,
And gives thanks for the princely blows,
Departs not meanly proud and boasting
Of his magnificent rib-roasting.
The beaten soldier proves most manful,
That like his sword, endures the anvil;

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250

And justly 's held more formidable,

The more his valor 's malleable;

But he that fears a bastinado,

Will run away from his own shadow :
And tho' I 'm now in durance fast,

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By our own party basely cast,
Ransom, exchange, parole refus'd,
And worse than by the en'my us'd,
In close catastra shut, past hope
Of wit, or valor, to elope:

260

As beards the nearer that they tend

To th' earth, still grow more reverend;
And cannons shoot the higher pitches,

The lower we let down their breeches:

I'll make this low dejected fate

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Advance me to a greater height.

Quoth she, Y' have almost made m' in love

With that which did my pity move.

Great wits, and valors, like great states,

Do sometimes sink with their own weights: 270

Th' extremes of glory and of shame,

Like east and west become the same:
No Indian prince has to his palace

More followers than a thief to th' gallows.

But if a beating seem so brave,

275

What glories must a whipping have?
Such great achievements cannot fail

To cast salt on a woman's tail:

For if I thought your natʼral talent

Of passive courage were so gallant,
As

you strain hard to have it thought, I could grow amorous, and dote.

When Hudibras this language heard,
He prick'd up 's ears, and strok'd his beard:
Thought he, this is the lucky hour;

Wines work when vines are in the flow'r :

This crisis then I'll set my rest on,

And put her boldly to the question.

Madam, what you would seem to doubt,

Shall be to all the world made out:

280

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

And if

you doubt it to be true,

I'll stake myself down against you:

And if I fail in love or troth,

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290

295

Be

you the winner, and take both.

Quoth she, I've heard old cunning stagers Say, fools for arguments use wagers;

And tho' I prais'd your valor, yet

I did not mean to baulk your wit ;

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.

Beyond th' infliction of a witch;

300

Quoth Hudibras, 'T is a caprich,

305

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,

310

To warm the dead, and vainly light
Those only that see nothing by 't.

Have you not pow'r 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 else a grutch?
What fate can lay a greater curse
Than you upon yourself would force;
For wedlock without love, some say,
Is but a lock without a key:

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320

It is a kind of rape to marry

One that neglects, or cares not for ye:
For what does make it ravishment,
But b'ing against the minds consent?
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 fanatic way,

Why should you not at least allow

Those that love you to do so too;

For as you fly me, and pursue

Love more averse, so I do you:
And am by your own doctrine taught
To practise what you call a fault.

Quoth she, If what you say is true,

You must fly me as I do you:

But 't is not what we do, but say,

In love and preaching that must sway.

Quoth he, To bid me not to love,

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$40

Is to forbid my pulse to move,

My beard to grow, my ears to prick up,

345

Or, when I'm in a fit, to kick up: