Get up
and mount thy steed, dispatch,
And let us both their motions watch.
Quoth Ralph, I should not, if I were
In case for action, now be here ;
Nor have I turn'd my back, or hang'd
An arse, for fear of being bang'd.
It was for you I got these harms,
Advent'ring to fetch off your arms.
The blows and drubs I have receiv'd,
Have bruis'd my body, and bereav'd
My limbs of strength: unless you stoop,
And reach your hand to pull me up,
I shall lie here, and be a prey
To those who now are run away.
That thou shalt not, quoth Hudibras :
We read the ancients held it was
More honourable far, servare
Civem, than slay an adversary;
The one we oft to-day have done;
The other shall dispatch anon:
734. I take occasion to notice here, that in the use of the term day the ancient poets had often a direct allusion to the sun, the cause of the day; as here, and in 554, 580, and 725 ante, et passim. This will be more readily admitted in respect of this Poem, if it be recollected that the appearances exhibited by the moon are only reflected images of those in the sun.
And though th' art of a diff'rent church,
I will not leave thee in the lurch.
This said, he jogg'd his good steed nigher, 765
And steer'd him gently tow'rd the squire,
Then bowing down his body, stretch'd
His hands out, and at Ralpho reach'd;
When Trulla, whom he did not mind,
Charg'd him like lightening behind.
She had been long in search about
Magnano's wound, to find it out;
But could find none, nor where the shot
That had so startled him, was got.
But having found the worst was past,
She fell to her own work at last,
The pillage of the prisoners,
Which in all feats of arms was hers:
And now to plunder Ralph she flew,
When Hudibras his hard fate drew
To succour him; for, as he bow'd
To help him up, she laid a load
Of blows so heavy, and plac'd so well,
On t'other side, that down he fell.
Yield, scoundrel base, (quoth she,) or die; 785
Thy life is mine, and liberty :
But if thou think'st I took thee tardy,
And dar'st presume to be so hardy,
To try thy fortune o'er afresh,
I'll wave my title to thy flesh,
Thy arms and baggage now my right:
And if thou hast the heart to try't,
I'll lend thee back thyself a while,
And once more for that carcase vile,
Fight upon tick.-Quoth Hudibras,
Thou offer'st nobly, valiant lass,
And I shall take thee at thy word.
First let me rise, and take my sword:
That sword which has so oft this day
Through squadrons of my foes made way, 800
And some to other worlds dispatch'd,
Now with a feeble spinster match'd,
Will blush with blood ignobly stain'd,
By which no honour's to be gained.
But if thou'lt take m' advice in this,
Consider whilst thou mayst, what 'tis
To interrupt a victor's course,
B' opposing such a trivial force:
For if with conquest I come off,
(And that I shall do sure enough,)
Quarter thou canst not have, nor grace
By law of arms in such a case;
Both which I now do offer freely.
I scorn, quoth she, thou coxcomb silly,
(Clapping her hand upon her breech,
To shew how much she priz'd his speech,)
Quarter, or counsel from a foe:
If thou canst force me to it, do.
But lest it should again be said,
When I have once more won thy head,
I took thee napping, unprepar'd,
Arm, and betake thee to thy guard.
This said, she to her tackle fell,
And on the knight let fall a peal
Of blows so fierce, and press'd so home,
That he retir'd, and follow'd's bum.
Stand to't, quoth she, or yield to mercy;
It is not fighting arsie-versie
Shall serve thy turn.-This stirr'd his spleen
More than the danger he was in,
The blows he felt, or was to feel,
Although th' already made him reel;
Honour, despite, revenge, and shame,
At once into his stomach came;
Which fir'd it so, he rais'd his arm
Above his head, and rain'd a storm
Of blows so terrible and thick,
As if he meant to hash her quick,
But she upon her truncheon took them,
And by oblique diversion broke them,
an opportunity
all back with usury:
Which long she fail'd not of; for now
The knight with one dead-doing blow
Resolving to decide the fight,
And she with quick and cunning slight
Avoiding it, the force and weight
He charg'd upon it was so great,
As almost sway'd him to the ground.
No sooner she th' advantage found,
But in she flew ; and seconding
With home-made thrust the heavy swing,
She laid him flat upon his side,
And mounting on his trunk astride,
Quoth she, I told thee what would come
Of all thy vapouring, base scum,
Say, will the law of arms allow
have grace and quarter now?
Or wilt thou rather break thy word,
And stain thine honour, than thy sword? $60 A man of war to damn his soul,
In basely breaking his parole;
And when before the fight, th' had'st vow'd
To give no quarter in cold blood:
Now thou hast got me for a Tartar,
To make me 'gainst my will take quarter.
Why dost not put me to the sword,
But cowardly fly from thy word?
Quoth Hudibras, The day's thine own ;
Thou and thy stars have cast me down :
My laurels are transplanted now,
And flourish on thy conqu'ring brow :
My loss of honour's great enough,
Thou need'st not brand it with a scoff:
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