Triumphant Laurels feem'd to grow
No where fo green as on his Brow:
Laden with which, as well as tir'd
With Conquering toil he now retir'd
Unto a Neighbouring Castle by,
To reft his Body, and apply
Fit Med'cines to each glorious Bruise
He got in fight, Reds, Blacks, and Blues;
To Mollify th' uneafie Pang
Of ev'ry honourable Bang,
Which b'ing by Skilful Midwife dreft,
He laid him down to take his reft.
But all in vain. H' had got a hurt
O'th' infide, of a deadlier fort,
By Cupid made, who took his ftand
Upon a Widow's Jointure-Land,
(For he, in all his am'rous Battels,
No 'dvantage finds like Goods and Chattels )
Drew home his Bow, and aiming right,
Let fly an Arrow at the Knight;
The shaft against a Rib did glance,
And gall'd him in the Purtenance.
But time had fomewhat fwag'd his pain,
After he found his Suit in vain.
For that proud Dame, for whom his Soul
Was burnt in's Belly like a coal,
(That Belly that so oft did ake
And fuffer griping for her fake,
Till purging Comfits and Ants Eggs
Had almost brought him off his Legs)
Us'd him fo like a bafe Rafcallion,
That old Pyg-(what d' y' call him) malion,
That cut his Mistress out of ftone,
Had not fo hard a hearted one.
She had a thousand jadifh Tricks,
Worfe than a Mule that flings and kicks :
'Mong which one cross-grain'd Freak she had,
As infolent as ftrange and mad :
She could love none but only fuch
As fcorn'd and hated her as much.
'Twas a ftrange Riddle of a Lady,
Not love, if any lov'd her? Hey-day!
So Cowards never ufe their Might,
But against fuch as will not fight.
So fome Diseases have been found
He that gets her by Heart muft fay her
The back-way, like a Witch's Prayer.
Mean while the Knight had no fmall Task,
To compafs what he durft not ask.
He loves, but dares not make the Motion;
Her Ignorance is his Devotion.
Like Caitiff vile, that for Mifdeed
Rides with his Face to Rump of Steed:
Or rowing Scull, he's fain to love,
Look one way, and another move.
Or like a Tumbler, that does play
His Game, and look another way,
Until he feize upon the Coney :
Juft fo does he by Matrimony,
But all in vain: Her fubtil Snout
Did quickly wind his Meaning out ;
Which the return'd with too much Scorn,
To be by Man of Honour Born 3
Yet much he bore, untill the Distress,
He fuffer'd from his fpightful Miftrefs,
I 3
Did ftir his Stomach, and the Pain
He had endur'd, from her Difdain,
Turn'd to Regret, fo refolute,
That he refolv'd to wave his Suit,
And either to renounce her quite,
Or for a while play least in fight.
This Refolution b'ing put on,
He kept fome Months, and more had done;
But being brought fo nigh by Fate,
The Victory he atchiev'd fo late,
Did fet his Thoughts agog, and ope
A Door to discontinu'd Hope,
That feem'd to promise he might win
His Dame too, now his hand was in
And that his Valour and the Honour
H' had newly gain'd might work upon her:
Thefe Reasons made his Mouth to water
With amorous Longings to be at her.
Quoth he unto himself, Who knows
But this brave Conqueft o'er my Foes
May reach her Heart, and make that stoop,
As I but now have forc'd the Troop?
If nothing can oppugn Love,
And Virtue Envious ways can prove,
What may not he confide to do
That brings both Love and Virtue too?
But thou bring'ft Valour too and Wit,
Two things that seldom fail to hit.
Valour's a Mouse-trap, Wit a Gin,
Which Women oft are taken in.
Then, Hudibras, why shouldft thou fear
To be, that art a Conquerer?
Fortune th' Audacious doth juvare,
But lets the timidous mifcarry.
Then while the Honour thou haft got
Is fpick and fpan new, piping hot,
Strike her up bravely thou hadst best,
And trust thy Fortune with the reft.
Such thoughts as thefe the Knight did keep,
More than his Bangs or Fleas, from fleep,
And as an Owl that in a Barn
Sees a Mouse creeping in the Corn,
Sits ftill and fhuts his round blue Eyes,
As if he flept, until he fpies
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