A Satyr against Mankind

	Were I (who to my cost already am)
	One of those strange, prodigious creatures, man
	A spirit free to choose for my own share
	What case of flesh and blood I pleased to wear,
5	I’d be a dog, a monkey, or a bear,
	Or anything but that vain animal
	Who is so proud of being rational.
	The senses are too gross, and he’ll contrive
	A sixth to contradict the other five,
10	And before certain instinct, will prefer
	Reason, which fifty times for one does err;
	Reason, an ignis fatuus in the mind,
	Which leaves the light of nature, sense, behind,
	Pathless and dangerous wandering ways it takes
15	Through error’s fenny bogs and thorny brakes,
	Whilst the misguided follower climbs with pain
	Mountains of whimseys heaped in his own brain;
	Tumbling from thought to thought, falls headlong down
	Into doubt’s boundless sea, where, like to drown,
20	Books bear him up awhile and make him try
	To swim with bladders of philosophy.
	In hope still to o’ertake th’escaping light,
	The vapour dances in his dazzled sight
	Till spent, it leaves him to eternal night.
25	Then Old Age and Experience, hand in hand,
	Lead him to death and make him understand,
	After a search so painful and so long,
	That all his life he has been in the wrong.
	Huddled in dirt, the reasoning engine lies,
30	Who was so proud, so witty, and so wise.
	Pride drew him in, as cheats their bubbles catch,
	And made him venture to be made a wretch.
	His wisdom did his happiness destroy,
	Aiming to know that world he should enjoy.
35	And wit was his vain, frivolous pretense
	Of pleasing others at his own expense.
	For wits are treated just like common whores;
	First they’re enjoyed and then kicked out of doors.
	The pleasure past, a threatening doubt remains
40	That frights th’enjoyer with succeeding pains.
	Women and men of wit are dangerous tools
	And ever fatal to admiring fools.
	Pleasure allures, and when the fops escape,
	’Tis not that they’re belov’d but fortunate,
45	And therefore what they fear, at heart they hate.
	But now methinks some formal band and beard
	Takes me to task. Come on, sir, I’m prepared.
	‘Then, by your favour, anything that’s writ
	Against this gibing, jingling knack called wit
50	Likes me abundantly, but you’ll take care
	Upon this point, not to be too severe.
	Perhaps my muse were fitter for this part,
	For I profess I can be very smart
	On wit, which I abhor with all my heart.
55	I long to lash it in some sharp essay,
	But your grand indiscretion bids me stay
	And turns my tide of ink another way.
	What rage ferments in your degenerate mind
	To make you rail at reason and mankind?
60	Blest, glorious man, to whom alone kind heaven
	An everlasting soul hath freely given,
	Whom his great maker took such care to make
	That from himself he did the image take
	And this fair frame in shining reason dressed
65	To dignify his nature above beast;
	Reason, by whose aspiring influence
	We take a flight beyond material sense,
	Dive into mysteries, then soaring pierce
	The flaming limits of the universe,
70	Search heaven and hell, find out what’s acted there,
	And give the world true grounds of hope and fear!
	‘Hold, mighty man,’ I cry, ’all this we know
	From the pathetic pen of Ingelo,
	From Patrick’s Pilgrim, Stillingfleet’s replies,
75	And ’tis this very reason I despis
	This supernatural gift that makes a mite
	Think he’s the image of the infinite,
	Comparing his short life, void of all rest,
	To the eternal and the ever blest,
80	This busy, puzzling stirrer up of doubt
	That frames deep myst’ries and then finds them out,
	Filling with frantic crowds of thinking fools
	Those reverend bedlams, colleges and schools,
	Borne on whose wings, each heavy sot can pierce
85	The limits of the boundless universe;
	So charming ointments make an old witch fly
	And bear a crippled carcass through the sky.
	’Tis this exalted power, whose business lies
	In nonsense and impossibilities,
90	This made a whimsical philosopher
	Before the spacious world his tub prefer,
	And we have modern, cloistered coxcombs who
	Retire to think, ’cause they have nought to do.
	But thoughts were given for action’s government;
95	Where action ceases, thought’s impertinent.
	Our sphere of action is life’s happiness,
	And he who thinks beyond thinks like an ass.
	Thus, whilst against false reasoning I inveigh,
	I own right reason, which I would obey,
100	That reason which distinguishes by sense
	And gives us rules of good and ill from thence,
	That bounds desires with a reforming will
	To keep them more in vigour, not to kill.
	Your reason hinders, mine helps to enjoy,
105	Renewing appetites yours would destroy.
	My reason is my friend, yours is a cheat:
	Hunger calls out, my reason bids me eat,
	Perversely, yours your appetite does mock;
	This asks for food, that answers, “What’s o’clock?”
110	This plain distinction, sir, your doubt secures:
	’Tis not true reason I despise, but yours.’
	Thus I think reason righted, but for man
	I’ll ne’er recant; defend him if you can.
	For all his pride and his philosophy,
115	’Tis evident beasts are in their degree
	As wise at least and better far than he.
	Those creatures are the wisest who attain
	By surest means the ends at which they aim.
	If therefore Jowler finds and kills his hares
120	Better than Meres supplies committee chairs,
	Though one’s a statesman, t’other but a hound,
	Jowler in justice would be wiser found.
	You see how far man’s wisdom here extends,
	Look next if human nature makes amends.
125	Whose principles most gen’rous are and just,
	And to whose morals you would sooner trust,
	Be judge yourself, I’ll bring it to the test
	Which is the basest creature, man or beast?
	Birds feed on birds, beasts on each other prey,
130	But savage man alone does man betray.
	Pressed by necessity, they kill for food;
	Man undoes man to do himself no good.
	With teeth and claws by nature armed, they hunt
	Nature’s allowance to supply their want,
135	But man with smiles, embraces, friendship, praise,
	Most humanly his fellow’s life betrays,
	With voluntary pains works his distress,
	Not through necessity but wantonness.
	For hunger or for love they bite and tear,
140	Whilst wretched man is still in arms for fear.
	For fear he arms and is of arms afraid,
	From fear to fear successively betrayed,
	Base fear, the source whence his best actions came,
	His boasted honour and his dear-bought fame,
145	The lust of power to which he’s such a slave
	And for the which alone he dares be brave,
	To which his various projects are designed,
	Which makes him generous, affable, and kind,
	For which he takes such pains to be thought wise,
150	And screws his actions in a forced disguise,
	Leads a most tedious life in misery
	Under laborious, mean hypocrisy.
	Look to the bottom of this vast design,
	Wherein man’s wisdom, power, and glory join:
155	The good he acts, the ill he does endure,
	’Tis all from fear, to make himself secure.
	Merely for safety, after fame they thirst,
	For all men would be cowards if they durst,
	And honesty’s against all common sense:
160	Men must be knaves, ’tis in their own defence.
	Mankind’s dishonest; if you think it fair
	Amongst known cheats to play upon the square,
	You’ll be undone.
	Nor can weak truth your reputation save:
165	The knaves will all agree to call you knave.
	Wronged shall he live, insulted o’er, oppressed,
	Who dares be less a villain than the rest.
	Thus here you see what human nature craves:
	Most men are cowards, all men should be knaves.
170	The difference lies, as far as I can see,
	Not in the thing itself, but the degree,
	And all the subject matter of debate
	Is only, Who’s a knave of the first rate?
	All this with indignation have I hurled
175	At the pretending part of the proud world,
	Who, swollen with selfish vanity, devise
	False freedoms, holy cheats, and formal lies
	Over their fellow slaves to tyrannize.
	But if in court so just a man there be
180	(In court, a just man, yet unknown to me)
	Who does his needful flattery direct,
	Not to oppress and ruin, but protect;
	Since flattery, which way soever laid,
	Is still a tax on that unhappy trade,
185	If so upright a statesman you can find,
	Whose passions bend to his unbiased mind,
	Who does his arts and policies apply
	To raise his country, not his family,
	Nor while his pride owned avarice withstands,
190	Receives close bribes from friends’ corrupted hands;
	Is there a churchman who on God relies,
	Whose life, his faith and doctrine justifies;
	Not one blown up with vain, prelatic pride,
	Who for reproof of sins does man deride;
195	Whose envious heart makes preaching a pretense,
	Widi his obstreperous, saucy eloquence,
	Dares chide at kings and rail at men of sense;
	Who from his pulpit vents more peevish lies,
	More bitter railings, scandals, calumnies,
200	Than at a gossiping are thrown about
	When the good wives get drunk and then fall out;
	None of that sensual tribe whose talents lie
	In avarice, pride, sloth, and gluttony,
	Who hunt good livings but abhor good lives,
205	Whose lust exalted to that height arrives
	They act adultery with their own wives,
	And ere a score of years completed be,
	Can from the lofty pulpit proudly see
	Half a large parish their own progeny;
210	Nor doting bishop who would be adored
	For domineering at the council board,
	A greater fop in business at fourscore,
	Fonder of serious toys, affected more
	Than the gay, glittering fool at twenty proves
215	With all his noise, his tawdry clothes, and loves;
	But a meek, humble man of modest sense,
	Who, preaching peace, does practise continence,
	Whose pious life’s a proof he does believe
	Mysterious truths which no man can conceive;
220	If upon earth there dwell such God-like men,
	I’ll here recant my paradox to them,
	Adore those shrines of virtue, homage pay,
	And with the rabble world their laws obey.
	If such there are, yet grant me this at least,
225	Man differs more from man than man from beast.