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Disabled both in Man and Beast,
To fly, and run away, his best ;
To keep the Enemiy, and Fear,
From equal falling on his Rear.
And tho with Kicks and Bangs he ply'd
The further, and the nearer side :
(As Sea-men ride with all their force,
And Tug as if they Row'd the Horse;
And when the Hackney Sails most swift,
Believe they lag, or run a drift)
So though he posted e'er so fast,
His Fear was greater than his Haste:
For Fear, tho' fleeter than the Wind,
Believes ’tis always left behind.
But when the Morn began t'appear,
And shift t another Scene his Fear ;
He found his new Officious Shades
That came so timely to his Aid,
And forc'd him from the Foe t'escape;
Had turn'd it felf to Ralpho's shape ;
So like in Person, Garb and Pitch,
'Twas hard t interpret which was which.

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For

For Ralpho had no sooner told
The Lady all he had t unfold,
But she convey'd him out of sight,
To entertain th' approaching Knight.
And while he gave himself Diverfion,
To accommodate his Beast and Person ;
And put his Beard into a Posture,
At best Advantage to accost her :
She order'd th’Antimasquerade,
(For his Reception) aforesaid :
But when the Ceremony was done,
The Lights put out, and Fairies gone ;
And Hudibras, amongst the rest,
Convey'd away, as Ralpho guess'd :
The wretched Caitiff all alone,
(As he believ'd) began to moàn,
And tell his story to himself;
The Knight mistook him for an Elf.
And did so still, till he began
To scruple at Ralpho's Outward Man:
And thought, because they oft agreed,
Tappear in one another's stead,

And

And act the Saint's and Devil's Part,
With undistinguishable Art:
They might have done so now perhaps,
And put on one another's Shapes;
And therefore, to resolve the Doubt,
He star'd upon him, and cry'd out;
What art? My Squire, or that bold Spritej
That took his place and Shape to Night?
Some busie Independent Pug,
Retainer to his Synagogue ?
Alas, quoth he, I'm none of those
Your Bosom-Friends, as you suppose ;
But Ralph himself, you trusty Squire,
Wh’has drag’d your Donskip out o'th” Mire;
And from th’Inchantments of a Widow,
Who’had turn’d ye int'a Beast,have freed you ;
And, though a Prisoner of War,
Have brought you fafe, where now you are;
VVhich you would gratefully repay,
Your constant Presbyterian way.
That's stranger (quo’the Knight) and stranger :
Who gave thee notice of my Danger ?

Quoth

Quoth he, Th'Infernal Conjurer Pursu'd and took me Prisoner; And knowing you were here about, Brought me along, to find you out. VVhere I, in Hugger-mugger hid, Have noted all they said and did, And though they lay to him the Pageant, I did not see him, nor his Agent ; VVho plaid their Sorceries out of sight, T'avoid a fiercer, second Fight.

But, didst thou see no Devils then ?

Not one, qaoth he, but Carnal Men, A little worse than Fiends in Hell, And that She-Devil, Jezebel ; That laugh'd and teh-he'd with Derision, To see them take your Deposition.

VVhat then (quoth Hudibras) was he, That plaid the Devil ť examine me!

A Rallying VVeaver in the Town, That did it in a Parson's Gown : VVhom all the Parish takes for gifted, But, for my part, I ne'er believ'd it;

In which you told them all your Feats,
Your Conscientious Frauds and Cheats,
Deny'd your Whipping, and confefs'd
The naked Truth of all the rest,
More plaînly than the Reverend Writer,
That to our Churches veil'd his Mitre.
All which they took in Black and White,
And cudgeld me to under-write.

What made thee, when they all were gone,
And none but thou and I alone,
To a& the Devil, and forbear
To rid me of my Hellisb Fear ?
Quoth he, I knew

your

constant Rate,
And frame of Sp’rit, too obftinate,
To be by me prevail'd upon
With any Motives of my own:
And therefore strove to counterfeit
The Devil a while, to Nick your Wit :
The Devil, that is your constant Crony,
That only can prevail upon ye;
Else we might still have been disputing,
And they with weighty Drubs confuting.

The

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