I’ th’ Cause’s service prisoner
As Withers, in immortal rhime,
Has register’d to after-time! 170
Do not nor great Reformers use
This Sidrophel to forebode news? 
To write of victories next year,
And castles taken yet i’ th’ air
Of battles fought at sea, and ships 175
Sank two years hence, the last eclipse? 
A total overthrow giv’n the King
In Cornwall, horse and foot, next Spring! 
And has not he point-blank foretold
Whats’e’er the Close Committee would? 180
Made Mars and Saturn for the Cause
The moon for Fundamental Laws? 
The Ram, the Bull, and Goat declare
Against the Book of Common-Pray’r? 
The Scorpion take the Protestation, 185
And Bear engage for Reformation? 
Made all the Royal Stars recant,
Compound and take the Covenant?

Quoth Hudibras, The case is clear,
The Saints may ’mploy a Conjurer, 190
As thou hast prov’d it by their practice;
No argument like matter of fact is;
And we are best of all led to
Men’s principles by what they do. 
Then let us straight advance in quest 195
Of this profound Gymnosophist
And as the Fates and he advise,
Pursue or wave this enterprise,

This said, he turn’d about his steed,
And eftsoons on th’ adventure rid; 200
Where leave we him and Ralph a while,
And to the Conjurer turn our stile,
To let our reader understand
What’s useful of him before-hand.

He had been long t’wards mathematicks, 205
Optics, philosophy, and staticks,
Magick, horoscopy, astrology,
And was old dog at physiology
But as a dog that turns the spit
Bestirs himself, and plies his feet, 210
To climb the wheel, but all in vain,
His own weight brings him down again,
And still he’s in the self-same place
Where at his setting out h was
So in the circle of the arts 215
Did he advance his nat’ral parts,
Till falling back still, for retreat,
He fell to juggle, cant, and cheat: 
For as those fowls that live in water
Are never wet, he did but smatter:  220
Whate’er he labour’d to appear,
His understanding still was clear
Yet none a deeper knowledge boasted,
Since old hodge-bacon and Bob GROSTED.
Th’ Intelligible World he knew, 225
And all men dream on’t to be true;
That in this world there’s not a wart
That has not there a counterpart;
Nor can there on the face of ground
An individual beard be found, 230
That has not, in that foreign nation,
A fellow of the self-same fashion