The more shame for her Goody-fhip, To give fo near a Friend the flip. For Colon chufing out a Stone, Levell❜d fo right, it thumpt upon His Manly Paunch, with fuch a Force, As almost beat him off his Horse. He loft his Whinyard and the Rein; But laying faft hold on the Mane, Preferv'd his Seat: And as a Goofe In Death contracts his Talons clofe; So did the Knight, and with one Clw The Tricker of his Piftol draw.
The Gun went off: And, as it was Still fatal to ftout Hudibras,
In all his Feats of Arms, when leaft He dreamt of it, to profper beft So now he far'd: The Shot let fly At random, 'mong the Enemy,
Pierc'd Talgol's Gabberdine, and grazing
Upon his Shoulder, in the pafling
Lodg'd in Magnano's brafs Habergeon,
Who ftraight A Surgeon cry'd, A Surgeon :
He tumbled down and as he fell, Did Murther, murther, murther yell. This ftartled their whole Body fo, That if the Knight had not let go His Arms, but been in Warlike Plight, H' had won (the fecond time) the fight. As, if the Squire had but faln on, He had inevitably done:
But he, diverted with the care
Of Hudibras his Hurt, forbare
To prefs th' Advantage of his Fortune, While danger did the reft difhearten. For he with Cerdon b'ing engag'd In close Encounter, they both wag'd The fight fo well, 'twas hard to fay Which fide was like to get the day. And now the bufie Work of Death Had tir'd them fo, th' agreed to breath, Preparing to renew the Fight; When the Disaster of the Knight
And t' other Party, did divert
Their fell intent, and forc'd them
Ralpho preft up to Hudibras,
And Cerdon, where Magnano was; Each striving to confirm his Party With ftout Encouragements and hearty. Quoth Ralpho, Courage, valiant Sir, And let Revenge and Honour stir Your Spirits up, once more fall on, The fhatter'd Foe begins to run: For if but half fo well you knew Toufe your Victory as fubdue, They durft not after fuch a Blow
As you have giv'n them, face us now; But from fo formidable a Soldier
Had fled like Crows when they fmell Powder. Thrice have they feen your Sword aloft
Wav'd o'er their Heads, and fled as oft. But if you let them recollect
Their Spirits, now difmay'd and check'd, You'll have a harder Game to play Than yet y' have had, to get the Day. Thus fpoke the ftout Squire ; By Hudibras with fmall regard.
His Thoughts were fuller of the Bang He lately took, than Ralph's Harangue; To which he answer'd, Cruel Fate
Tells me thy Counsel comes too late.
The clotted Blood within
my Hofe, my wounded Body flows,
With Mortal Crifis doth portend My Days to appropinque an End.
I am for Action now unfit, Either of Fortitude or Wit. Fortune my Foe begins to frown, Refolv'd to pull my ftomach down. I am not apt upon a Wound, Or trivial Bafting, to defpond:
Yet I'd be loth my Days to curtail,
For if I thought my Wounds not Mortal
Or that we'd time enough as yet
To make an hon'rable Retreat,
'Twere the best Courfe: But if they find We fly, and leave our Arms behind, For them to feize on; the Dishonnur, And Danger too, is fuch, I'll fooner
Stand to it boldly, and take Quarter, To let them fee I am no Starter. In all the Trade of War, no Feat Is nobler than a brave Retreat. For those that run away, and fly, Take place at least o'th' Enemy:
This faid, the Squire with active fpeed Difmounted from his bonny Steed
To feize the Arms, which by Mifchance Fell from the bold Knight in a Trance. These being found out, and restor'd To Hudibras, their natʼral Lord,
As a Man may fay, with Might and Main He hafted to get up again.
Thrice he affay'd to mount aloft, But by his weighty Bum as oft He was pull'd back, till having found Th' Advantage of the Rifing Ground, Thither he led his Warlike Steed,
And, having plac'd him right, with speed Prepar'd again to scale the Beast.
When Orfin, who had newly dreft
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