When civil fury 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, Whose honesty they all durst swear for, Tho' not a man of them knew wherefore; When Gospel-Trumpeter, surrounded With long-ear'd rout, to battle sounded, And pulpit, drum ecclesiastick, Was beat with fist, instead of a stick; Then did Sir Knight abandon dwelling, And out he rode a-colonelling. A Wight he was, whose very sight would Entitle him Mirror of Knighthood, That never bent his stubborn knee To anything but chivalry; Nor put up blow, but that which laid Right worshipful on shoulder-blade; Chief of domestic knights, and errant, Either for chartel or for warrant; Great on the bench, great in the saddle, That could as well bind o'er, as swaddle: Mighty he was at both of these, And styl'd of War as well as Peace. So some rats of amphibious nature Are either for the land or water. But here our authors make a doubt, Whether he were more wise, or stout. Some hold the one, and some the other; But howsoe'er they make a pother, The diff'rence was so small, his brain Outweigh'd his rage but half a grain; Which made some take him for a tool That knaves do work with, call'd a Fool; And offer'd to lay wagers that As Montaigne, playing with his cat, Complains she thought him but an ass, Much more she wou'd Sir Hudibras: For that's the name our valiant knight To all his challenges did write. But they're mistaken very much; 'Tis plain enough he was no such: We grant, although he had much wit, H' was very shy of using it, As being loth to wear it out; And therefore bore it not about, Unless on holy-days, or so, As men their best apparel do. He was in Logic a great critic, Profoundly skill'd in Analytic; He could distinguish and divide A hair 'twixt south and southwest side; On either side he would dispute, Confute, change hands, and still confute; He'd undertake to prove by force Of argument, a man's no horse; He'd prove a buzzard is no fowl, And that a Lord may be an owl; A calf an Alderman, a goose a Justice, And rooks Committee-Men or Trustees. He'd run in debt by disputation, And pay with ratiocination. All this by syllogism true, In mood and figure, he would do. For Rhetoric, he could not ope His mouth, but out there flew a trope: And when he happen'd to break off I' th' middle of his speech, or cough, H' had hard words, ready to shew why And tell what rules he did it by. Else, when with greatest art he spoke, You'd think he talk'd like other folk. For all a Rhetorician's rules Teach nothing but to name his tools.