ANSWER.]
HUDIBRAS.
447
Are magistrates in all great towns,Where men do nothing but wear gowns. 310We make the man of war strike sail,[1]And to our braver conduct veil,And, when he's chas'd his enemies,Submit to us upon his knees.Is there an officer of state, 315Untimely rais'd, or magistrate,That's haughty and imperious?He's but a journeyman to us,That, as he gives us cause to do't,Can keep him in, or turn him out. 320We are your guardians, that increaseOr waste your fortunes how we please;And, as you humour us, can dealIn all your matters, ill or well.'Tis we that can dispose alone, 325Whether your heirs shall be your own;To whose integrity you must,In spite of all your caution, trust;And 'less you fly beyond the seas,Can fit you with what heirs we please;[2] 330And force you t' own them, tho' begottenBy French valets, or Irish footmen.Nor can the rigorousest coursePrevail, unless to make us worse;Who still, the harsher we are us'd, 335Are further off from b'iug reduc'd;And scorn t' abate, for any ills,The least punctilio of our wills.Force does but whet our wits t' applyArts, born with us, for remedy, 340Which all your politics, as yet,Have ne'er been able to defeat:For, when ye 've try'd all sorts of ways,What fools d' we make of you in plays?
