The catalogue and character
Of th' enemies beft men of war,
Whom, in a bold harangue, the Knight
Defies, and challenges to fight:
H' encounters Talgol, routs the Bear,
And takes the Fiddler prifoner,
Conveys him to inchanted caftle,
There fhuts him faft in wooden Baftile.
HERE was an ancient sage philofopher
That had read Alexander Rofs over,
And fwore the world, as he could prove,
Was made of fighting and of love.
Juft fo Romances are, for what else
Is in them all but love and battles?
O' th' first of these w' have no great matter
To treat of, but a world o' th' latter,
In which to do the injur'd right,
We mean in what concerns just fight,
Certes our authors are to blame,
For to make fome well-founding name
A pattern fit for modern knights
To copy out in frays and fights
(Like those that a whole street do raze
To build a palace in the place)
They never care how many others
They kill, without regard of mothers,
Or wives, or children, fo they can
Make up fome fierce, dead-doing man,
Compos'd of many ingredient valours,
Just like the manhood of nine tailors:
So a wild Tartar, when he fpies
A man that 's handfome, valiant, wife,
If he can kill him, thinks t' inherit
His wit, his beauty, and his spirit;
As if just so much he enjoy'd,
As in another is destroy'd:
For when a giant 's slain in fight,
And mow'd o'erthwart, or cleft downright,
It is a heavy case, no doubt,
A man fhould have his brains beat out,
Because he 's tall, and has large bones,
As men kill beavers for their stones.
But as for our part, we shall tell
The naked truth of what befel,
And as an equal friend to both
The Knight and Bear, but more to Troth,
With neither faction fhall take part,
But give to each his due desert,
And never coin a formal lie on 't,
To make the knight o'ercome the giant.
This b'ing profeft, we've hopes enough,
And now go on where we left off.
They rode, but authors having not
Determin'd whether pace or trot,
(That is to fay, whether tollutation,
As they do term 't, or fuccuffation)
We leave it, and go on, as now
Suppofe they did, no matter how;
Yet fome, from fubtle hints, have got
Mysterious light it was a trot:
But let that pafs; they now begun
To fpur their living engines on:
For as whipp'd tops and bandy'd balls,
The learned hold, are animals;
So horfes they affirm to be
Mere engines made by Geometry,
And were invented firft from engines,
As Indian Britains were from Penguins.
So let them be, and, as I was saying,
They their live engines ply'd, not staying
Until they reach'd the fatal champain
Which th' enemy did then encamp on;
The dire Pharfalian plain, where battle
Was to be wag'd 'twixt puissant cattle
And fierce auxiliary men,
That came to aid their brethren;
Who now began to take the field,
As Knight from ridge of fteed beheld.
E
For as our modern wits behold,
Mounted a pick-back on the old,
Much further off, much further he,
Rais'd on his aged beaft, could fee;
Yet not fufficient to defcry
All poftures of the enemy:
Wherefore he bids the Squire ride further,
T'observe their numbers and their order,
That when their motions he had known,
He might know how to fit his own.
Meanwhile he stopp'd his willing teed,
To fit himself for martial deed:
Both kinds of metal he prepar'd,
Either to give blows or to ward;
Courage and fteel, both of great force,
Prepar'd for better or for worse.
His death-charg'd piftols he did fit well,
Drawn out from life-preferving vittle.
Thefe being prim'd, with force he labour'd
To free 's sword from retentive scabbard;
And after many a painful pluck,
From rufty durance he bail'd tuck:
Ver. 74. Rais'd on, &c.] From off, in the two first
Ver. 85, 86.] Thus altered, 1674,
Courage within, and steel without,
To give and to receive a rout.
Ver. 92.] Thus altered, 1674,
He clear'd at length the rugged tuck.
Then shook himself, to fee that prowess
In fcabbard of his arms fat loose;
And, rais'd upon his desperate foot,
On stirrup-fide he gaz'd about,
Portending blood, like blazing ftar,
The beacon of approaching war.
Ralpho rode on with no less speed
Than Hugo in the forest did;
But far more in returning made ;
For now the foe he had furvey'd,
Rang'd, as to him they did appear,
With van,
main-battle, wings, and rear.
I' th' head of all this warlike rabble,
Crowdero march'd, expert and able.
Ver. 99, 100.] Thus altered in the edition of 1674,
The Squire advanc'd with greater speed
Than could b' expected from his fteed.
Ver. 101, 102.] But with a great deal more return'd -For now the foe he had difcern'd-In the two firit editions of 1663.
Ver. 106.] So called, from croud, a fiddle. This was one Jackson, a milliner, who lived in the New Exchange in the Strand. He had formerly been in the fervice of the Roundheads, and had loft a leg in it; this brought him to decay, fo that he was obliged to fcrape upon a fiddle, from one alehoufe to another, for his bread. Mr. Butler very judiciously places him at the head of his catalogue; for country diverfions are generally attended with a fiddler or bagpiper. I would.
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