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Ralpho dispatch'd with speedy haste,
And having ty'd Crowdero fast,

He gave sir Knight the end of cord,
To lead the captive of his sword
In triumph, whilst the steeds he caught,

And them to further service brought.
The squire, in state, rode on before,

The scatter'd rout return and rally,
And on his nut-brown whinyard bore

Surround the place; the knight does sally, The trophee-fiddle and the case,

Aud is made prisoner : then they seize Leaning on shoulder 8 like a mace.

Th' enchanted fort by storm, release The knight himself did after ride,

Crowdero, and put the squire in 's place; Leading Crowdero by his side;

I should have first said Hudibras.
And tow'd him, if he lagg'd behind,
Like boat, against the tide and wind.
Thus grave and solemn they march on,

Ay me! what perils do environ
Until quite through the town they 'ad gone; The man that meddles with cold iron !
At further end of which there stands

What plaguy mischiefs and mishaps
An ancient castle, that cominands

Do dog him still with after-claps ! Th' adjacent parts; in all the fabric

For though dame Fortune seem to smile, You shall not see one stone, nor a brick,

And leer upon him, for a while, But all of wood, by powerful spell

She'll after show him, in the nick Of magic made impregnable:

Of all his glories, a dog-trick. There's neither iron-bar nor gate,

This any man may sing or say Portcollis, chain, nor bolt, nor grate,

['th' ditty call'd, What if a Day? And yet men durance there abide,

For Hudibras, who thought he 'ad won In dungeon scarce three inches wide ;

The field, as certain as a gun, With roof so low, that under it

And having routed the whole troop, They never stand, but lie or sit;

With victory was cock-a-hoop, And yet so foul, that whoso is in,

Thinking he 'ad done enough to purchase Is to the middle-leg in prison;

Thanksgiving-day among the churches, In circle magical confin'd,

Wherein his mettle and brave worth With walls of subtle air and wind,

Might be explain'd by holder-forth, Which none are able to break thorough,

And register'd by fame eternal, l'ntil they're freed by head of borough.

In deathless pages of diurnal, 'Thither arriv'd, th' adventurous knight

Found in few minutes, to his cost, And bold squire from their steeds alight

He did but count without his host, At th' outward wall, near which there stands And that a turnstile is more certain A Bastile, built t' imprison hands;

Than, in events of war, dame Fortune. By strange enchantment made to fetter

For now the late faint-hearted rout,
The lesser parts, and free the greater:

O'erthrown and scatter'd round about,
Por though the body may creep through, Chas'd by the horror of their fear,
The hands in grate are fast enough:

From bloody fray of knight and bear,
And when a circle 'bout the wrist

(All but the dogs, who in pursuit Is made by beadle exorcist,

Of the knight's victory stood to 't, The body feels the spur and switch,

And most ignobly fought to get As if 't were ridden post by witch,

The honour of his blood and sweat) At twenty miles an hour pace,

Seeing the coast was free and clear And yet ne'er stirs out of the place.

O'the conquer'd and the conqueror, On top of this there is a spire,

Took heart again, and fac'd about, On which sir Knight first bids the squire

As if they meant to stand it out: The fiddle, and its spoils, the case,

For by this time the routed bear, lo manner of a trophee place.

Attack'd by th' enemy i' th' rear, That done, they ope the trap-door gate,

Finding their number grew too great And let Crowdero down thereat,

For him to make a safe retreat, Crowdero making doleful face,

Like a bold chieftain fac'd about; Like hermit poor in pensive place,

But wisely doubting to hold out, To dungeon they the wretch commit,

Gave way to Fortune, and with haste And the survivor of his feet;

Fac'd the proud foe, and fled, and fac'd, But th' other, that had broke the peace,

Retiring still, until he found And head of knighthood, they release,

He 'ad got th' advantage of the ground, Though a delinquent false and forged,

And then as val'antly made head Yet being a stranger, he's enlarged,

To check the foe, and forthwith fled, While his comrade, that did no hurt,

Leaving no art untry'd, nor trick Is clapp'd up fast in prison fort:

Of warrior stout and politic, So Justice, while she winks at crimes,

Until, in spite of hot pursuit,
Stumbles on innocence sometimes.

He gain'd a pass, to hold dispute
On better terms, and stop the course

Of the proud foe. With all his force 8 Plac'd on his shoulder. Editions 1674, 1684, He bravely charg'd, and for a while 1689, 1700. Leaning on shoulder, restored 1704. Porc'd their whole body to recoil ;

But still their numbers so increas'd,

And joining forces, laid about He found himself at length oppress'd,

So fiercely, that th' amazed rout And all evasions so uncertain,

Turn'd tail again, and straight begun, To save himself for better fortune,

As if the Devil drove, to run. That he resolv'd, rather than yield,

Meanwhile th' approach'd the place wbere Bruin To die with honour in the field,

Was now engag'd to mortal ruin : And sell his hide and carcass at

The conquering foe they soon assail'd, A price as high and desperate

First Trulla stav'd, and Cerdon tail'd, As e'er he could. This resolution

Until their mastiffs loos'd their hold: He forthwith put in execution,

And yet, alas! do what they could, And bravely threw himself among

The worsted bear came off with store The enemy, i' th' greatest throng;

Of bloody wounds, but all before: But what could single valour do,

For as Achilles, dipt in pond, Against so numerous a foe?

Was anabaptiz'd free from wound, Yet much he did, indeed too much

Made proof against dead-doing steel To be believ'd, where th' odds were such;

All over, but the pagan heel; But one against a multitude,

So did our champion's arms defend Is more than mortal can make good:

All of him but the other end, For while one party he oppos’d,

His head and ears, which in the martial His rear was suddenly enclos'd,

Encounter lost a leathern parcel : And no room left him for retreat,

For as an Austrian archduke once Or fight, against a foe so great.

Had one ear (which in ducatoons For now the mastiffs, charging home,

Is half the coin) in battle par'd To blows and handy-gripes were come ;

Close to his head, so Bruin_far'd; While manfully himself he bore,

But tugg'd and pull'd on th' other side, And, setting his right foot before,

Like scrivener newly crucify'd: He rais'd himself to show how tall

Or like the late-corrected leathern His person was above them all.

Ears of the circumcised brethren. This equal shame and envy stirr'd

But gentle Trulla into th' ring In th' enemy, that one should beard

He wore in 's nose convey'd a string, So many warriors, and so stout,

With which she march'd before, and led As he had done, and stav'd it out,

The warrior to a grassy bed, Disdaining to lay down his arms,

As authors write, in a cool shade, And yield on honourable terms.

Which eglantine and roses made ; Enraged thus, some in the rear

Close by a softly murmuring stream, Attack'd him, and some every where,

Where lovers us'd to loll and dream : Till down he fell; yet falling fought,

There leaving him to his repose, And, being down, still laid about;

Secured from pursuit of foes, As Widdrington, in doleful dumps,

And wanting nothing but a song, Is said to fight upon his stumps.

And a well-tun'd theorbo hung But all, alas! bad been in vain,

l'pon a bough, to ease the pain And he inevitably slain,

His tugg'd ears sutler'd, with a strain If Trulla' and Cerdon in the nick

They both drew up, to march in quest To rescue him had not been quick:

Of his great leader and the rest. For Trulla, who was light of foot,

For Orsin (who was more renown'd As shafts which long-field Parthians shoot,

For stout maintaining of his ground, (But not so light as to be borne

In standing tight, than for pursuit, Upon the ears of standing corn,

As being not so quick of foot) Or trip it o'er the water quicker

Was not long able to keep pace Than witches, when their staves they liquor, With others that pursued the chase, As some report) was got among

But found himself left far behind, The foremost of the martial throng;

Both out of heart and out of wind; There pitying the vanquish'd bear,

Griev'd to behoid his bear pursued She call’d to Cerdon, who stood near,

So basely by a multitude, Viewing the bloody fight; to whom,

And like to fall, not by the prowess, “ Shall we," quoth she, “ stand still hum-drum, But numbers, of his coward foes. And see stout Bruin, all alone,

He rag'd, and kept as heavy a coil as By numbers basely overthrown?

Stout Hercules for loss of Hylas; Such feats already he 'as achiev'd,

Forcing the vallies to repeat In story not to be believ'd,

The accents of his sad regret: And 'twould to us be shame enough,

He beat his breast, and tore his hair, Not to attempt to fetch him off.”

For loss of his dear crony bear, I would," quoth he, “ venture a limb

That Echo, from the hollow ground, To second thee, and rescue him;

His doleful wailings did resound But then we must about it straight,

More wistfully, by many times, Or else our aid will come too late;

Than in small poets splay-foot rhymes, Quarter he scorns, he is so stout,

That make her, in their ruthful stories, And therefore cannot long hold out.”

To answer to int'rogatories, This said, they wav'd their weapons round

And most unconscionably depose About their heads to clear the ground,

To things of which she nothing knows;

And when she has said all she can say,

Where'er they in hugger-mugger lurk) 'Tis wrested to the lover's fancy.

I'll make them rue their handy work, Quoth he, “ O whither, wicked Bruin,

And wish that they had rather dar'd Art thou fled? to my” —Echo, “Ruin."

To pull the Devil by the beard.” “ I thought thou 'adst scorn'd to budge a step Quoth Cerdon, “Noble Orsin, th' hast For fear." Quoth Echo, “ Marry guep.”

Great reason to do as thou say'st, “ Am not I here to take thy part:

And so has every body here, Then what has quail'd thy stubborn heart? As well as thou hast, or thy bear: Hare these bones rattled, and this head

Others may do as they see good ; So often in thy quarrel bled?

But if this twig be made of wood, Nor did I ever winch or grudge it

That will hold tack, I'll make the fur For thy dear sake." Quoth she, “Mum budget." Fly 'bout the ears of that old cur, “ Think'st thou 'twill not be laid i'th' dish

And th' other mungrel vermin, Ralph, Thou turn'st thy back?” Quoth Echo, “Pish.” That brav'd us all in his behalf. " To run from those thou 'adst overcome,

Thy bear is safe, and out of peril, Thus cowardly?” Quoth Echo, “Mum.”

Though lugg’d indeed, and wounded very ill; " But what a vengeance makes thee fly

Myself and Trulla made a shift From me too, as thine eneiny?

To help him out at a dead lift; Or, if thou hast no thought of me,

And having brought him bravely off, Nor what I have endur'd for thee,

Have left him where he's safe enough: Yet shame and bonour might prevail

There let him rest; for if we stay, To keep thee thus from turning tail:

The slaves may bap to get away.For who would grutch to spend his blood in

This said, they all engag'd to join His honour's cause?” Quoth she, “A puddin." Their forces in the same design, This said, his grief to anger turn'd,

And forthwith put themselves, in search Which in his manly stomach burn'd;

Of Hudibras, upon their march: Thirst of revenge, and wrath, in place

Where leave we them a while, to tell Of sorrow, now began to blaze.

What the victorious knight befel ; He vow'd the authors of his woe

For such, Crowdero being fast Should equal vengeance undergo,

In dungeon shut, we left him last. And with their bones and flesh pay dear

Triumphant laurels seem'd to grow For what he suffer'd, and his bear.

No where so green as on his brow, This being resolr'd, with equal speed

Laden with which, as well as tir'd And rage he hasted to proceed

With conquering toil, he now retir'd To action straight ; and giving o'er

Unto a neighbouring castle by, To search for Bruin any more,

To rest his body, and apply He went in quest of Hudibras,

Fit med'cines to each glorious brnise To find him out wbere'er he was;

He got in fight, reds, blacks, and blues; And, if he were above ground, vow'd

To mollify th' uneasy pang He'd ferret him, lurk where he wou'd.

Of every honourable bang, But scarce had he a furlong on

Which being by skilful midwife drest, This resolute adventure gone,

He laid him down to take his rest. When he encounter'd with that crew

But all in vain : he 'ad got a hurt Whom Hudibras did late subdue.

O'th' inside, of a deadlier sort, Honour, revenge, contempt, and shame,

By Cupid made, who took his stan:1 Did equally their breasts inflame.

Upon a widow's jointure land, 'Mong these the fierce Magnano was,

(For he in all his am'rous battles, And Talgol, foe to Hudibras;

No 'dvantage finds like goods and chattles). Cerdon and Colon, warriors stout,

Drew home his bow, and, aiming right, And resolute, as ever fought;

Let fly an arrow at the knight; Whorn furious Orsin thus bespoke:

The shaft against a rib did glance, “ Shall we," quoth he, “thus basely brook And gall him in the partenance; The vile affront that paltry ass,

But time had somewhat 'swag'd his pain, And feeble scoundrel, Hudibras,

After he found his suit in vain; With that more paltry ragamuffin,

For that proud dame, for whom his soul Ralpho, with vapouring and huffing,

Was burnt in's belly like a coal, Have put upon us, like tame cattle,

(That belly that so oft did ake, As if they had routed us in battle?

And suffer griping for her sake, For my part, it shall ne'er be said

Till purging comfits and ants' eggs I for the washing gave my bead: •

Had almost brought him off his legs) Nor did I turn my back for fear

Us'd him so like a base rascallion, Oth' rascals, but loss of my bear,

That old Pyg-(what d'y' call him) malion, Which now I'm like to undergo;

That cut his mistress out of stone, For whether these fell wounds, or no,

Had not so hard a hearted one. He has receiv'd in fight, are mortal,

She had a thousand jadish tricks, Is more than all my skill can foretel ;

Worse than a mule that flings and kicks; Nor do I know what is become

'Mong which one cross-grain'd freak she had, Of him, more than the pope of Rome :

As insolent as strange, and mad; But if I can but find them out

She could love none but only such That caus'd it, (as I shall no doubt,

As scorn'd and hated her as much VOL VIII.


'Twas a strange riddle of a lady:

The little beast within his reach, Not love, if any lov'd her: hey-day!

Then starts, and seizes on the wretch, So cowards never use their might,

So from his couch the knight did start, But against such as will not fight.

To seize upon the widow's heart, So some diseases have been found

Crying, with hasty tone, and hoarse, Only to seize upon the sound.

“ Ralpho, dispatch, to horse, to horse !" He that gets her by heart, must say her

And 'twas but time; for now the rout, The back way, like a witch's prayer.

We left engag'd to seek him out, Meanwhile the knight had no small task,

By speedy marches were advanc'd To compass what he durst not ask:

Up to the fort where he ensconc'd, He loves, but dares not make the motion;

And all th' avenues had possest, Her ignorance is his devotion :

About the place, from east to west. Like critiff vile, that for misdeed

That done, a while they made a halt Rides with his face to rump of steed,

To view the ground, and where t assault: Or rowing scull, he's fain to love,

Then call'd a council, which was best, Look one way, and another move;

By siege or onslaught, to invest Or like a tumbler that does play

The enemy; and 'twas agreed His game, and look another way;

By storm and onslaught to proceed. Until he seize upon the coney,

This being resolv'd, in comely sort Just so does he by matrimony.

They now drew up t' attack the fort; But all in vain; her snbtle snout

When Hudibras, about to enter Did quickly wind his meaning out;

Upon another gate's adventure, Which she return'd with too much scorn,

To Ralpho callid aloud to arm, To be by many of honour borne;

Not dreaming of approaching storm. Yet much he bore, until the distrese

Whether dame Fortune, or the care He suffer'd from his spiteful mistress

Of angel bad, or tutelar, Did stir his stomach, and the pain,

Did arm, or thrust hiin on a danger, He had endur'd from her disdain,

To which be was an utter stranger, Turn'd to regret so resolute,

That foresight might, or might not, blot That he resolv'd to wave his suit,

The glory he had newly got, And either to renounce her quite,

Or to his shame it might be said, Or for a while play least in sight

They took him napping in his bed, This resolution being put on,

To them we leave it to expound, He kept some months, and more had done, That deal in sciences profound. But being brought so nigh by Fate,

His courser scarce he had bestrid, The victory he achiev'd so late

And Ralpho that on which he rid, Did set his thoughts agog, and ope

When setting ope the postern gate, A door to discontinued hope,

Which they thought best to sally at, That seem'd to promise he might win

The foe appeard, drawn up and drill'd. His dame too, now his hand was in;

Ready to charge them in the field. And that his valour, and the honour

This somewhat startled the bold knight, He 'ad newly gain'd, might work upon her: Surpris'd with th' unexpected sight : These reasons made his month to water

The bruises of his bones and flesh With amorous longings to be at her.

He thought began to smart afresh: Quoth he, unto himself, “ Who knows

Till, recollecting wonted courage, But this brave conquest o'er my foes

His fear was soon converted to rage, May reach her heart, and make that stoop, And thus he spoke: “ The coward foe. As I but now have forc'd the troop?

Whoin we but now gave quarter to, If nothing can oppugn love,

Look, yonder 's rally'd, and appears And virtue invious ways can prove,

As if they had outrun their fears ; What may not he confide to do,

The glory we did lately get, That brings both love and virtue too?

The Fates command us to repeat ; But thon bring'st valour too, and wit,

And to their wills we must succomby Two things that seldom fail to hit.

Quocunque trahunt, 'tis our doom. Valour's a mousetrap, wit a gin,

This is the same numeric crew Which women oft are taken in :

Which we so lately did subdue; Then, Hudibras, why should'st thou fear

The self-same individuals that To be, that art, a conqueror ?

Did run, as mice do from a cat, Fortune the audacious doth jurare,

When we courageously did wield But lets the timidous miscarry:

Our martial weapons in the field, Then, while the honour thou hast god

To tug for victory: and when Is spick-and-span new, piping hot,

We shall our shining blades agen Strike her up bravely thou hadst best,

Brandish in terrour o'er our heads, And trust thy fortune with the rest.”

They'll straight resume their wonted dreads. Such thoughts as these the knight did keep, Fear is an ague, that forsakes More than his bangs, or feas, from sleep;

And haunts, by fits, those whom it takes; And as an owl, that in a barn

And they'll opine they feel the pain Sees a mouse creeping in the corn,

And blows they felt to-day again. Sits still, and shuts his round blue eyes,

Then let us boldlý charge them home, As if he slept, until he spies

And make no doubt to overcome."

This said, his courage to inflame,

But he, divetted with the care He call'd upon his mistress' name,

Of Hudibras's hurt, forbare His pistol next he cock'd anew,

To press th' advantage of his fortune, And out his nut-brown whinyard drew;

While danger did the rest dishearten. And, placing Ralpho in the front,'

For he with Cerdon being engag'd Reserv'd himself to bear the brunt,

In close encounter, they both wag'd As expert warriors nse; then ply'd,

The fight so well, 'twas hard to say With iron heel, his courser's side,

Which side was like to get the day. Conveying sympathetic speed

And now the busy work of Death From heel of knight to heel of steed.

Had tir'd them so, they 'greed to breathe, Meanwhile the foe, with equal rage

Preparing to renew the fight, And speed, advancing to engage,

When the disaster of the knight, Both parties now were drawn so close,

And th' other party, did divert Almost to come to handy blows,

Their fell intent, and forc'd them part. When Orsin first let fly a stone

Ralpho press'd up to Hudibras, At Ralpho; not so huge a one

And Cerdon where Magnano was, As that which Diomed did maul

Each striving to confirm his party Æneas on the bum withal ;

With stout encouragements and hearty. Yet big enough, if rightly hurl'd,

Quoth Ralpho,“ Courage, valiant sir, Thave sent him to another world,

And let revenge and honour stir Whether above ground, or below,

Your spirits up; once more fall on, Which saints twice dipt are destin'd to.

The shatter'd foe begins to run: The danger startled the bold squire,

For if but half so well you knew And made him some few steps retire ;

To use your victory, as subdue, But Hudibras advanc'd to 's aid,

They durst not, after such a blow And rous'd his spirits, half dismay'd:

As you have given them, face us now; He, wisely doubting lest the shot

But, from so formidable a soldier, Of th' enemy, now growing hot,

Had fled like crows when they smell powder. Might at a distance gall, press'd close,

Thrice have they seen your sword aloft To come pell-mell to handy-blows,

Wav'd o'er their heads, and fled as oft; And, that he might their aim decline,

But if you let them recollect Advanc'd still in an oblique line;

Their spirits, now dismay'd and checkt, But prudently forebore to fire,

You'll have a harder game to play, Till breast to breast he had got nigher ;

Than yet ye ’ave had, to get the day.” As expert warriors use to do,

Thus spoke the stout squire, but was heard When hand to hand they charge their foe.

By Hudibras with small regard. This order the adventurous knight,

His thoughts were fuller of the bang Most soldier-like, observed in fight,

He lately took, than Ralph's harangue; When Fortune (as she's wont) turn'd fickle,

To which he answer'd, “Cruel Fate And for the foe began to stickle.

Tells me thy counsel comes too late. The more shame for her goodyship

The clotted blood within my hose, To give so near a friend the slip.

That from my wounded body flows, Por Colon, choosing out a stone,

With mortal crisis doth portend Leveld so right, it thump'd upon

My days to appropinque an end. His manly paunch with such a force,

I am for action now unfit, As almost beat him off his horse.

Either of fortitude or wit. He loos'd his whinyard, and the rein,

Fortune, my foe, begins to frown, But laying fast hold on the mane,

Resolv'd to pull my stomach down. Preserv'd bis seat: and as a goose

I am not apt, upon a wound, In death contracts his talons close,

Or trivial basting, to despond; So did the knight, and with one claw,

Yet I'd be loth my days to curtail ; The tricker of his pistol draw.

For if I thought my wounds not mortal, The gun went off; and as it was

Or that we 'ad time enough as yet Still fatal to stout Hudibras,

To make an honourable retreat, In all his feats of arms, when least

'Twere the best course; but if they find He dreamt of it, to prosper best,

We fly, and leave our arms behind, So now he far'd: the shot, let fly

For them to seize on, the dishonour, At random 'mong the enemy,

And danger too, is such, I'll sooner Pierc'd Talgol's gabardine, and grazing

Stand to it boldly, and take quarter, Upon his shoulder, in the passin

To let them see I am no starter Lodg'd in Magnano's brass habergeon,

In all the trade of war no feat Who straight, “A surgeon,” cry'd, “A surgeon !" Is nobler than a brave retreat: He tumbled down, and, as he fell,

For those that run away, and fly, Did “Murther, murther, murther !” yell.

Take place at least o'th' enemy." This startled their whole body so,

This said, the squire, with active speed, That if the knight had not let go

Dismounted from his bony steed, but been in warlike plight,

To seize the arms, which, by mischance, He 'ad won (the second time) the fight;

Fell from the bold knight in a trance: As, if the squire had but fall'n on,

These being found out, and restor'd He had inevitably done.

To Hudibras, their natural lord,

His arms,

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