Samuel Butler (poet) - Hudibras

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He that complies against his will.
Is of his own opinion still.

Samuel Butler
What makes all doctrines plain and clear?
About two hundred pounds a year.
And that which was proved true before,
Prove false again? Two hundred more.

Samuel Butler
I am not now in fortune's power:
He that is down can fall no lower.

Samuel Butler
With mortal crisis doth portend
My days to appropinque an end.

Samuel Butler
He could distinguish and divide A hair 'twixt south and southwest side, On either which he would dispute, Confute, change hands, and still confute.

Samuel Butler
To swallow gudgeons ere they 're catch'd,
And count their chickens ere they're hatch'd.

Samuel Butler
We idly sit, like stupid blockheads,
Our hands committed to our pockets,
And nothing but our tongues at large,
To get the wretches a discharge:
Like men condemn'd to thunder-bolts,
Who, ere the blow, become mere dolts;
Or fools besotted with their crimes,
That know not how to shift betimes,
And neither have the hearts to stay,
Nor wit enough to run away.

Samuel Butler
Shall we that in the Cov'nant swore,
Each man of us to run before
Another, still in Reformation,
Give dogs and bears a dispensation?
How will Dissenting Brethren relish it?
What will malignants say? videlicet,
That each man Swore to do his best,
To damn and perjure all the rest!
And bid the Devil take the hin'most,
Which at this race is like to win most.

Samuel Butler
Doubtless the pleasure is as great
Of being cheated, as to cheat.
As lookers-on feel most delight,
That least perceive a juggler's sleight.

Samuel Butler
We grant, although he had much wit,
He was very shy of using it.

Samuel Butler
For what is worth in anything
But so much money as 't will bring?

Samuel Butler
With books and money plac'd for show
Like nest-eggs to make clients lay,
And for his false opinion pay.

Samuel Butler
Cheer'd up himself with ends of verse
And sayings of philosophers.

Samuel Butler
Ay me! what perils do environ
The man that meddles with cold iron!

Samuel Butler
When pious frauds and holy shifts
Are dispensations and gifts.

Samuel Butler
What ever sceptic could inquire for;
For every why he had a wherefore.

Samuel Butler
He'd run in debt by disputation,
And pay with ratiocination.

Samuel Butler
For those that run away and fly,
Take place at least o' the enemy.

Samuel Butler
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 show 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.

Samuel Butler
With many a stiff thwack, many a bang,
Hard crab-tree and old iron rang.

Samuel Butler
He knew what 's what, and that 's as high
As metaphysic wit can fly.

Samuel Butler
Where entity and quiddity,
The ghosts of defunct bodies, fly.

Samuel Butler
He had got a hurt
O' the inside, of a deadlier sort.

Samuel Butler
If he that in the field is slain
Be in the bed of honour lain,
He that is beaten may be said
To lie in honour's truckle-bed.

Samuel Butler
He ne'er consider'd it, as loth
To look a gift-horse in the mouth.

Samuel Butler