Page:Hudibras - Volume 1 (Butler, Nash, Bohn; 1859).djvu/227

CANTO I.] Sense is deceitful, and may feign As well in counterfeiting pain As other gross phenomenas, In which it oft mistakes the case, But since th' immortal intellect, That's free from error and defect, Whose objects still persist the same, Is free from outward bruise or maim, Which nought external can expose To gross material bangs or blows, It follows we can ne'er be sure Whether we pain or not endure; And just so far are sore and griev'd. As by the fancy is believ'd. Some have been wounded with conceit, And died of mere opinion straight; Others, tho' wounded sore, in reason Felt no contusion, nor discretion. A Saxon Duke did grow so fat, That mice, as histories relate, Ate grots and labyrinths to dwell in His postique parts, without his feeling; Then how is't possible a kick Should e'er reach that way to the quick? Quoth she, I grant it is in vain, For one that's basted to feel pain;