Samuel Butler (poet)

"Through thick and thin."

"Smell a rat."

"True as the dial to the sun, Although it be not shin'd upon."

"But still his tongue ran on, the less Of weight it bore, with greater ease."

"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."

"For those that fly may fight again, Which he can never do that's slain."

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

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

"He is of a middle stature, strong sett, high coloured, a head of sorrell haire, a severe and sound judgement: a good fellowe."

"This Sam. Butler, who was a boon and witty Companion, especially among the Company he knew well."

"With crosses, relics, crucifixes, Beads, pictures, rosaries, and pixes,— The tools of working our salvation By mere mechanic operation."

"A Babylonish dialect Which learned pedants much affect."

"For he could coin, or counterfeit New words, with little or no wit; Words so debas'd and hard, no stone Was hard enough to touch them on; And when with hasty noise he spoke 'em; The ignorant for current took 'em;"

"A skilful leech is better far Than half an hundred men of war, So he appear'd; and by his skill, No less than dint of sword, cou'd kill."

"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."

"They'll say our bus'ness, to reform The Church and State, is but a worm; For to subscribe, unsight, unseen, To an unknown Church-discipline, What is it else, but before-hand T'engage, and after understand? For when we swore to carry on The present Reformation, According to the purest mode Of Churches best reformed abroad, What did we else, but make a vow To do we know not what, nor how?'"

"In mathematics he was greater Than Tycho Brahe, or Erra Pater: For he, by geometric scale, Could take the size of pots of ale; Resolve, by sines and tangents straight, If bread and butter wanted weight; And wisely tell what hour o' th' day The clock doth strike, by algebra."

"Whatever sceptic could inquire for, For ev'ry why he had a wherefore; Knew more than forty of them do, As far as words and terms cou'd go. All which he understood by rote And, as occasion serv'd, would quote; No matter whether right or wrong, They might be either said or sung. His notions fitted things so well, That which was which he could not tell; But oftentimes mistook th' one For th' other, as great clerks have done."

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

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

"And weave fine cobwebs, fit for skull That's empty when the moon is full; Such as take lodgings in a head That's to be let unfurnished."

"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; Call fire and sword and desolation, A godly thorough reformation, Which always must be carried on, And still be doing, never done; As if religion were intended For nothing else but to be mended. A sect, whose chief devotion lies In odd perverse antipathies; In falling out with that or this, And finding somewhat still amiss; More peevish, cross, and splenetick, Than dog distract, or monkey sick. That with more care keep holy-day The wrong, than others the right way; Compound for sins they are inclin'd to, By damning those they have no mind to: Still so perverse and opposite, As if they worshipp'd God for spite. The self-same thing they will abhor One way, and long another for. Free-will they one way disavow, Another, nothing else allow: All piety consists therein In them, in other men all sin..."

"The trenchant blade, Toledo trusty, For want of fighting was grown rusty, And ate into itself, for lack Of somebody to hew and hack."

"For Rhime the Rudder is of Verses, With which like Ships they steer their courses."

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

"And force them, though it was in spite Of Nature and their stars, to write."

"Quoth Hudibras, "I smell a rat! Ralpho, thou dost prevaricate.""

"Or shear swine, all cry and no wool."

"And bid the devil take the hin'most."

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

"Like feather bed betwixt a wall And heavy brunt of cannon ball."

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

"Who thought he 'd won The field as certain as a gun."

"Nor do I know what is become Of him, more than the Pope of Rome."

"I 'll make the fur Fly 'bout the ears of the old cur."

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

"These reasons made his mouth to water."

"While the honour thou hast got Is spick and span new."

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

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

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

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

"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."

"When pious frauds and holy shifts Are dispensations and gifts."

"Friend Ralph, thou hast Outrun the constable at last."

"This Light inspires, and plays upon The nose of Saint like Bag-pipe drone, And speaks through hollow empty Soul, As through a Trunk, or whisp'ring hole, Such language as no mortal Ear But spiritual Eve-droppers can hear."

"He cou'd foretel whats'ever was By consequence to come to pass; As death of great men, alterations, Diseases, battles, inundations. All this, without th' eclipse o' th' sun, Or dreadful comet, he hath done, By inward light; away as good, And easy to be understood; But with more lucky hit than those That use to make the stars depose, Like Knights o' th' post, and falsely charge Upon themselves what others forge: As if they were consenting to All mischiefs in the world men do: Or, like the Devil, did tempt and sway 'em To rogueries, and then betray 'em."

"Some force whole regions, in despite O' geography, to change their site; Make former times shake hands with latter, And that which was before come after. But those that write in rhyme still make The one verse for the other's sake; For one for sense, and one for rhyme, I think 's sufficient at one time."

"Some have been beaten till they know What wood a cudgel's of by th' blow; Some kick'd until they can feel whether A shoe be Spanish or neat's leather."

"No Indian prince has to his palace More followers than a thief to the gallows."