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Don Quixote (Hudibras) and Sancho Panza (Ralpho) sally out in search of adventures, and reach Breutford, a market town eight miles west of London, where a bear-baiting (a bear tied to a stake is set upon by dogs) is about to take place. The knight (Hudibras), agreeably to his principles, determines to prevent what he deems a heathenish practice, and propounds the propriety of doing so to Ralpho. Following a logical discussion on the subject, the worthy pair are about to go to loggerheads in the argument, when Hudibras, seeing the field of battle in sight, peremptorily shuts the debate, tells Ralpho to prepare for war, and spurs his own wall-eyed steed toward the scene of contest.
On reaching the spot, they find their enemies assembled in full force, the first, Crowdero, a fiddler, who has lost a leg in service, and been reduced to fiddling for his bread. Then comes Orsin, "keeper of the bear," Talgol is next, the butcher. Then comes Magnano; a tinker and a preacher, then appears Trulla, said to be daughter of a local. Cerdon comes next, a one-eyed cobbler, and lastly, Colon, a hostler, brings, if we may be permitted a bad pun, this list to a period.
Editor's note: Not all of the characters appear in this excerpt from Samuel Butler's Hudibras. Part I, Canto II. This introduction and poem are much as Samuel Butler penned them in 1661. Comments in parenthesis and italics are as if Cervantes' Don Quixote and Sancho Panza had viewed the events and are as taken from notes by Zachary Grey which have been appended to several issues of Hudibras. Grey's notes are in turn based on writings by Roger L'Estrange and others regarding the poem and its characters. It is hoped that once one has been inoculated with Butler's writing, other poets and satirists from his era will be read and enjoyed.
The fight (between the dogs and bear) is just beginning, when the bold knight presses forward, and raises his voice:
" ...I charge ye all, no more foment
This feud, but keep the peace between
Your Brethren and your Contrey-men;
And to those places straight repair
Where your respective dwellings are.
But to that purpose first surrender
The fiddler as the prime offender,
The incendiary vile, that is chief
Author and engineer of mischief;
That makes division between friends,
For profane and malignant ends.
He and that engine of vile noise,
On which illegally he plays,
Shall (dictum factum) both he brought
To condign punishment, as they ought.
This must be done, and I would fain see
Mortal so sturdy as to gain-say;
For then I'll take another course
And soon reduce you all by force.
This said, he clapp'd his hand on sword,
To shew he meant to keep his word.
But Talgol, enemy of cows, who had long suppress'd
Inflamed wrath in glowing breast
Which now began to rage and burn as
Implacably as flame in furnace,
Thus answer'd him: Thou vermin wretched
As e'er in measled pork was hatched,
Thou tail of worship, that dost grow
On rump of justice as of cow,
How darest thou, with that sullen luggage
O' th' self, old iron, and other baggage,
With which thy steed of bones and leather
Has broke his wind in halting hither;
How durst th', I say, adventure thus
T' oppose thy lumber against us?
Could thine impertinence find out
No work t' employ itself about,
Where thou, secure from wooden blow,
Thy busy vanity might'st show?
Was no dispute a-foot between
The caterwauling brethren?
No subtle question rais'd among
Those out-o'-their wits, and those i' th' wrong?
No prize between those combatants
O' the' times, the land and water saints,
Where thou might'st stickle, without hazard
Of outrage to thy hide and mazzard;
And not for want of bus'ness come
To us, to be thus troublesome,
To interrupt our better sort
Of disputants, and spoil our sport?
Was there no felony, no bawd,
Cut-purse, nor burglary abroad?
No stolen pig, nor plunder'd goose,
To tie thee up from breaking loose?
No ale unlicens'd broken hedge,
For which thou statute might'st allege,
To keep thee busy from foul evil,
And shame due to thee from the devil?
(To which Sancho exclaimed, "I said that!
Give me my due.")
Did not committee sit, where he
Might cut our journey-work for thee?
And set th' a task, with subornation,
To stitch up sale and sequestration,
To cheat with holiness and zeal,
All parties and the common-weal?
Much better had it been for thee,
H' had kept thee where th' art us'd to be;
Or sent th' on bus'ness any whither,
So he had never brought thee hither.
But if th' hast brain enough in skull
To keep itself in lodging whole,
And not provoke the rage of stones
And cudgels to thy hide and bone,
Tremble, and vanish, while thou may'st,
Which I'll not promise if thou stay'st.
At this the Knight grew high in wroth,
And lifting hands and eyes up both,
Three times he smote on stomach stout,
From whence at length these words broke out:
("Ah, the butcher makes a good case for a simple affront in which there is no actual injury. I suppose I would let the simpleton go on � but what is this, Hudibras is inflamed!" Spoke the Don.)
Was I for this entitled Sir,
And girt with trusty sword and spur,
For fame and honour to wage battle,
Thus to be brav'd by foe to cattle?
Not all that pride that makes thee swell
As big as thou dost blown-up veal;
Nor all thy tricks and slights to cheat,
And sell thy carrion for good meat;
Not all thy magic to repair
Decay'd old age in tough lean ware,
Make nat'ral death appear thy work,
And stop the gangrene in stale pork;
Not all the force that makes thee proud,
Because by bullock ne'er withstood?
Though arm'd with all thy cleavers, knives,
And axes, made to hew down lives;
Shall save or help thee to evade
The hand of Justice, or this blade,
Which I, her sword-bearer do carry,
For civil deed and military.
Nor shall these words of venom base,
Which thou hast from their native place,
Thy stomach, pump'd to fling on me,
Go unreveng'd, though I am free.
Thou down the dame throat shalt devour �em,
Like tainted beef, and pay dear for em.
Nor shall it e'er be said, that wight,
With gauntlet blue, and bases white,
And round blunt truncheon by his side,
So great a man at arms defy'd,
With words far bitterer than wormwood,
That would in Job or Grizel stir mood.
Dogs with their tongues their wounds do heal,
But men with hands, as thou shalt fee.
This said, with hasty rage he snatch'd
His gun-shot, that in holsters watch'd;
And bending cock, he levell'd full
Against th' outside of Talgol's skull;
Vowing that he should ne'er stir further,
Nor henceforth cow or bullock murder.
But alas came, in shape of rust,
And �twixt the spring and hammer thrust
Her Gorgon shield, which made the cock
Stand stiff, and �twere transfor'd to stock.
Mean while fierce Talgol, gath'ring might
With rugged truncheon, charged the Knight;
But he, with petronel (gun) upheav'd,
Instead of shield, the blow receiv'd,
The gun recoil'd as well it might,
Not us'd to such a kind of fight,
And shrunk from its great master's gripe,
Knock'd down and stunn'd with mortal stripe.
Then Hudibras, with furious haste,
Drew out his sword; yet not so fast,
But Talgol first, with hardy thwack,
Twice bruis'd his head, and twice his back,
But when his nut-brown sword was out,
With stomach huge he laid about,
Imprinting many a wound upon
His moral foe, the truncheon.
The trusty cudgel did oppose
Itself against dead-doing blows,
To guard its leader from fell bane,
And then reveng'd itself again.
And tho' the sword (some understood)
In force had much the odds of wood,
�Twas nothing so; both sides were balanc'd
So equal, none knew which was valiant'st:
For wood with Honour lying engag'd,
Is so implacably enrag'd
Though iron hew and mangle sore,
Wood wounds and bruises honour more.
And now both Knights were out of breath,
Tir'd in the hot pursuit of death;
Whilst all the rest amaz'd stood still,
Expecting which should take, or kill.
This Hudibras observ'd; and fretting,
Conquest should be so long a getting,
He drew up all his forces into
One body, and that into one blow.
But Talgol wisely avoided it
By cunning slight; for had it hid
The upper part of him, the blow
Had slit, as sure as that below.
Mean while the imcomparable Colon,
To all his friend began to fall on;
Him Ralph encounter'd, and straight grew
A dismal combat �twixt them two:
The one arm'd with metal, the other with wood,
This fit for bruise, and that for blood.
With many a stiff thwack, many a bang,
Hard crab-tree and old iron rang;
While none that saw them could divine
To which side conquest would incline.
Until Magnano, who did envy
That two should with so many men vie,
By subtle strategem of brain
Perform'd what force could ne'er attain;
For he, by foul hap, having found
Where thistles grew, on barren ground,
In haste he drew his weapon out,
And having cropp'd them from the root,
He clapp'd them underneath the tail
Of steed, with pricks as sharp as nail.
("I remember," said Sancho, "and am sure my ass does as well.")
The angry beast did straight resent
The wrong done to his fundament,
Began to kick and fling, and wince
As if h' had been beside his sense,
Striving to disengage from thistle,
That gaul'd him sorely under his tail;
Instead of which he threw the pack
Of Squire and baggage from his back
And blund'ring still, with smarting rump,
He gave the Knight's steed such a thump
As made him reel. The Knight did stoop,
And sat on further side aslope.
(A similar tale is written
In Virgil-Travesie by Charles Cotton.
"Even as a filly never ridden
When by the jockie first bestridden,
If naughty boys do thrust a nettle
Under her dock, to try her mettle,
Does rise and plunge, curvet and kick,
Enough to break the rider's neck.")
This Talgol viewing, who had now
By flight escap'd the fatal blow
He rally'd, and again fell to't:
For catching foe by nearer foot,
He lifted with such might and strength,
As would have hurl'd him thrice his length,
And dash'd his brains (if any) out
But Mars, who still protects the stout,
In pudding-time came to his aid,
And under him the Bear convey'd;
The Bear, upon whose soft fur-gown
The Knight with all his weight fell down.
The friendly rug preserv'd the ground,
And head long Knight, from bruise or wound:
Like feather-bed betwixt a wall
And heavy brunt of cannon-ball
As Sancho on a blanket fell,
And had no hurt, ours far'd as well
("Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! The poet knows not the hurt
in body and spirit that the evil doers do." said Sancho.)
In body, though his mighty spirit,
B'ing heavy, did not so well the bear it.
The Bear was in a greater fright,
Beat down, and worsted by the Knight.
He roar'd, and rag'd, and flung about,
To shaked off bondage from his snout.
His wrath inflam'd boil'd o'er, and from
His jaws of death he threw the foam;
Furry in stranger postures threw him,
And more than ever herald drew him:
He tore the earth, which he had sav'd
From squelch of Knight, and storm'd and rav'd,
And vex'd the more, because the harms
He felt were �gainst the law of arms:
For men he always took to be
His friends, and dogs the enemy;
Who never so much hurt had done him,
As his own side did falling on him:
It griev'd him to the guts, that they
For whom h' had fought so many a fray,
And serv'd with loss of blood so long,
Would offer such inhuman wrong;
Wrong of unsoldier-like condition
For which he flung down his commission,
And laid about him, till his nose
From thrall of ring of cord broke loose.
Soon as he felt himself enlarg'd,
Through thickest of his foes he charg'd,
And made way through the amazed crew,
Some he o'er-ran, and some o'erthrew,
But took none; for by hasty flight,
He strove t' escape pursuit of Knight,
From whom he fled with as much haste
And dread, as he the babble chas'd;
In haste he fled, and so did they,
Each and his fear a sev'ral way.
Crowdero only kept the field,
Not stirring from the place he held,
Though beaten down and wounded sore,
I th' fiddle, and leg that bore
One side of him, not that of bone,
But much it's better, the wooden one.
("Do I not remember a similar case,
When a cripple was healed in such a place.
A wayward bear came the cripple's way
And forced decision that very day.
Threw off his crutches and binding of supporting pegs,
And away he ran on well healed legs."
Said Don Quixote.)
He spying Hudibras lie strew'd
Upon the ground, like a log of wood,
With fright of fall, supposed wound,
And loss of urine, in a swound,
In haste he snatch'd the wooden limb
That, hurt in the ancle, lay by him.
And fitting it for sudden fight.
Straight drew it up, t' attack the knight;
For getting up on stump and huckle,
He with the foe began to buckle,
Vowing to reveng'd for breach
Of crowd and skin upon the wretch,
Sole author of all detriment
He and his fiddle underwent.
But Ralpho (who had now begun
T' adventure recorrection
From heavy squelch, and had got up
Upon his legs, with sprained crup,
Looking about, beheld pernicion
Approaching Knight from fell musician,
He snatch'd his whinyard up, that fled
When he was falling off his steed
(As rats do from a falling house),
To hide itself from rage of blows;
And wing'd with speed and fury, flew
To rescue Knight form black and blue.
Which ere he could achieve, his sconce
The leg encounter'd twice and once.
And now �twas rais'd to smite again,
When Ralpho thrust himself between.
He took the blow upon his arm,
To shield the Knight from further harm;
And, joining wrath with force, bestow'd
On the wooden member such a load,
That down it fell, and wit it bore
Crowdero, whom it propp'd before.
To him the Squire right nimbly run,
And setting conqu'ring foot upon
His trunk, thus spoke: What desp'rate frenzy
Made thee (thou whelp of sin) to fancy
Thyself, and all that coward rabble,
T' encounter us in battle able!
How durst th', I say, oppose thy curship
�Gainst arms, authority, and worship,
And Hudibras or me provoke,
Though all thy limbs were heart of oak,
And the other half of thee as good
To bear out blows as that of wood?
Could not the whipping-post prevail
With all its rhet'ric, nor the jail,
To keep from flaying scourge thy skin,
And ancle free from iron gin?
Which now thou shalt � but first our care
Must see how Hudibras does fare.
This said, he gently rais'd the Knight,
And set him on his bum upright:
To rouse him from lethargic dump,
He tweak'd his nose , and gentle thump,
Knock'd on his breast, as if't had been
To raise the spirits lodg'd within.
They, waken'd with the noise, did fly,
From inward room to window eye,
And gently op'ning lid, the casement,
Look'd out, but yet with some amazement.
This gladded Ralpho much to see,
Who thus bespoke the Knight: Quoth he,
Tweaking his nose, You are, Great Sir,
A self-denying conqueror;
As high, victorious, and great,
As e'er fought for the churches yet,
If you will give yourself but leave
To make out what y' already have;
That's victory. The foe, for dread
Of your nine-worthiness, is fled,
All, save Crowdero, for whose sake
you did the espous'd Cause undertake:
And he lies pris'ner at your feet,
To be dispos'd as you think meet,
Either for life, or death, or sale,
the gallows, or perpetual jail:
For one wink of your powerful eye
Must sentence him to live or die.
His fiddle is your proper purchase,
Won in the service of the churches;
And by your doom must be allow'd
To be, or be no more, a crowd.
For though success did not confer
Just title on the conqueror,
Though dispensations were not strong
Conclusions, whether right or wrong;
Although out-goings did confirm,
And owning were but a meer term,
Yet as the wicked have no right
To th' creature, though usurp'd by might,
The property is in the saint,
From whom th' injuriously detain �t;
Of him they held their luxuries,
Their dogs, their horses, whores, and dice,
Their riots, revels, masks, delights,
Pimps, buffoons, fiddlers, parasites;
Al which the saints have title to,
And ought t' enjoy, if th' had their due.
What we take from them is no more
Than what was our's by right before.
(It's true, said Sancho to the audience,
What we don't claim belongs to th' saints.
We take the plunder and the coin
From those that antagonized the Bruin.")
("Sancho," said Quixote, "you forget,
This is only a tale from Butler's lip.
Not real in the sense that you and I have fought
Hudibras' wins are dreams and come to naught!)"
(But I must agree with the Knight, good Hudibras,
He rightfully claims victory when he fell, but missed the grass.
And the bear enraged took his case
And gave the opponents a merry chase.)
(However, there is more to the story as it unfolded,
Military men deserve being scolded,
When their medals they throw away
Hoping to play both sides in the fray.
When making unreasonable demands
Their position shifts like drifting sand
As spoiled children are wont to do,
Cast aside medals and ribbons too.
Pretending, that they can not with honour
Serve their country in times of need at this hour.
Saying the price of war, they have come to recognize
Is impossible to bear as they become suddenly wise.
Speaking treason and spreading dissent
They take the side of the opponent,
Never giving a thought that in future times
They'll discover sour grapes from the vines.")
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