Sunday, June 13, 2004


When civil dudgeon first grew high,
And men fell out, they knew not why;
When hard words, jealousies, and fears
Set folks together by the ears,
And made them fight, like mad or drunk,
For Dame Religion as for punk;…
When Gospel-trumpeter, surrounded
With long-eared rout, to battle sounded,
And pulpit, drum ecclesiastic,
Was beat with fist instead of stick:
Then did Sir Knight abandon dwelling,
And out he rode a-colonelling….
For ‘t has been held by many that
As Montaigne, playing with his cat,
Complains she thought him but an ass,
Much more she would Sir Hudirbras…
We grant, although he had much wit,
H’was very shy of using it,
As being loath to wear it out,
And therefore bore it not about
Unless on holidays or so,
As men their best apparel do….

For his religion, it was fit
To match his learning and his wit;
Twas Presbyterian true blue,
For he was of that stubborn crew
Of errant saints, whom all men grant
To be the true Church Militant:
Such as do build their faith upon
The holy text of pike and gun,
Decide all controversies by
Infallible artillery,
And prove their doctrine orthodox
By Apostolic blows and knocks;
A sect whose chief devotion lies
In odd perverse antipathies;…
That with more care keep holiday
The wrong than others the right way;
Compound for sins they are inclined to
By damning those they have no mind to...

[Hudibras verses 3-9, author Samuel Butler, 1678]]

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