And now the cause of all their fear 585
By slow degrees approach’d so near,
They might distinguish different noise
Of horns, and pans, and dogs, and boys,
And kettle-drums, whose sullen dub
Sounds like the hooping of a tub. 590
But when the sight appear’d in view,
They found it was an antique show;
A triumph, that, for pomp and state,
Did proudest Romans emulate: 
For as the aldermen of Rome 595
Their foes at training overcome,
And not enlarging territory,
(As some mistaken write in Story,)
Being mounted, in their best array,
Upon a carr, and who but they! 600
And follow’d with a world of tall-lads,
That merry ditties troll’d, and ballads,
Did ride with many a good-morrow,
Crying, Hey for our Town! through the Borough
So when this triumph drew so nigh 605
They might particulars descry,
They never saw two things so pat,
In all respects, as this and that. 
First, he that led the cavalcade,
Wore a sow-gelder’s flagellate, 610
On which he blew as strong a levet
As well-fee’d lawyer on his breviate,
When over one another’s heads
They charge (three ranks at once) like Swedes,
Next pans and kettle, of all keys, 615
From trebles down to double base;
And after them, upon a nag,
That might pass for a forehand stag,
A cornet rode, and on his staff
A smock display’d did proudly wave. 620
Then bagpipes of the loudest drones,
With snuffling broken-winded tones,
Whose blasts of air, in pockets shut
Sound filthier than from the gut,
And make a viler noise than swine 625
In windy weather, when they whine. 
Next one upon a pair of panniers,
Full fraught with that which for good manners
Shall here be nameless, mixt with grains,
Which he dispens’d among the swains, 630
And busily upon the crowd
At random round about bestow’d. 
Then, mounted on a horned horse,
One bore a gauntlet and gilt spurs,
Ty’d to the pummel of a long sword 635
He held reverst, the point turn’d downward,
Next after, on a raw-bon’d steed,
The conqueror’s standard-bearer rid,
And bore aloft before the champion
A petticoat display’d, and rampant 640
Near whom the Amazon triumphant
Bestrid her beast, and on the rump on’t
Sat face to tail, and bum to bum,
The warrior whilom overcome;
Arm’d with a spindle and a distaff, 645
Which, as he rode, she made him twist off;
And when he loiter’d, o’er her shoulder
Chastis’d the reformado soldier. 
Before the dame, and round about,
March’d whifflers and staffiers on foot,