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And fat Black-Puddings, proper Food
For Warriors that delight in Blood.
For, as we said, He always chose
To carry Vittle in his Hofe,
That often tempted Rats and Mice,
The Ammunition to surprize :
And when he put a hand but in
The one or to other Magazine,
They stoutly in defence on't stood,
And from the wounded Foe drew Blood,
And till th'were storm'd and beaten out,
Ne’er left the Fortify'd Redoubt ;
And though Knights Errant, as some think,
Of old did neither eat nor drink,
Because when thorough Desarts vaft
And Regions defolate they past,
Where Belly-Timber above Ground,
Or under was not to be found,
Unless they graz'd, there's not one word,
Of their Provifion on Record :
Which made some confidently write,
They had no stomachs, but to fight.
'Tis false : for Arthur wore in Hall
Round Table like a Farthingal,
On which, with Shirt pulld out behind,
And eke before, his good Knights din’d.
Though’twas no Table fome suppose,
But a huge Pair of round Trunk Hose:
In which he carry'd as much Meat
As he and all his Knights could eat,
When laying by their Swords and Truncheons,
They took their Breakfasts, or their Nuncheons.
But let that pass at present, left
We should forget where we digrest :
As Learned Authors use, to whom
We leave it, and to th' purpose come.
His puissant Sword unto his side
Near his undaunted Heart was ty’d:
With Basket-hilt, that would hold Broth,
And serve for Fight and Dinner both.
In it he melted Lead for Bullets,
To shoot at Foes, and sometimes Pullets,
To whom he bore fo fell a grutch,
He ne'er gave Quarter t’
such. C 2
The trenchant Blade, Toledo trusty,
For want of Fighting was grown rústy,
And ate into it self, for lack
Of some Body to hew and hack.
The peaceful Scabbard where it dwelt,
The Rancor of its Edge had felt :
For of the lower End two Handfull
It had devoured, 'twas so Manful ;
And so much scorn'd to lurk in Cafe,
As if it durft not shew its Face.
In many desperate Attempts,
Of Warrants, Exigents, Contempts,
It had appear'd with Courage bolder
Than Sergeant Bum, invading Shoulder.
Oft had it ta’en possession,
And Pris’ners too, or made them run.
This Sword a Dagger had his Page,
That was but little for his Age:
And therefore waited on him fc,
upon Knights Errant do. It was a serviceable Dudgeon, Either for fighting or for drudging,
When it had stabb’d, or broke a Head,
It would scrape Trenchers, or chip Bread,
Toast Cheese or Bacon, though it were
To bait a Mouse-trap 'twould not care,
'Twould make clean Shoes, and in the Earth
Set Leeks and Onions, and so forth.
It had been 'Prentice to a Brewer,
Where this and more it did endure
But left the 'Trade, as many more
Have lately done on the same Score.
l'th' Holsters, at his Saddle-bow,
Two aged Pistols he did stow,
Among the Surplus of such Meat
As in his Hofe he could not get.
Tliese would inviegle Rats with th' Scent
To forage when the Cocks were bent;
And sometimes catch 'em with a Snap
As cleaverly as th’ablest Trap.
They were upon hard Duty still,
And every Night stood Centinel,
To guard the Magazine i’ th’Hose,
From two-legg’d and from four-legg'd Foes.
Thus clad and fortify'd, Sir Knight,
From peaceful home set forth to fight.
But first with nimble, active Force
He got on th' outside of his Horse,
For having but one Stirrup ty’d
T’his Saddle, on the further side,
It was so short hi had much ado
To reach it with his defp'rate Toe.
But after many strains and heaves,
got up to his Saddle Eaves.
From whence he vaulted into th' Seat
With so much Vigour, Strength, and Heat,
That he had almost tumbled over
With his own Weight, but did recover,
By laying hold on Tail and Main,
Which oft he us'd instead of Reini.
But now we talk of mounting Steed,
Before we further do proceed,
It doth behove us to say something,
Of that which bore our Valiant Bumkin.
The Beast was sturdy, large, and tall,
With mouth of Meal and Eyes of Wall ,