And vex'd the more, because the harms
He felt were 'gainst the law of arms:
For men he always took to be
His friends, and dogs the enemy;
Who never so much hurt had done him,
As his own side did falling on him :
It grieved him to the guts, that they,
For whom h' had fought so many a fray,
And served with loss of blood so long,
Should offer such inhuman wrong;
Wrong of unsoldier-like condition,
For which he flung down his commission,
And laid about him, till his nose
From thrall of ring of cord broke loose.
Soon as he felt himself enlarged,
Through thickest of his foes he charged,
And made way through th' amazed crew;
Some he o'er-ran, and some o'erthrew,
But took none; for, by hasty flight,
He strove t' escape pursuit of Knight,
From whom he fled with as much haste
And dread, as he the rabble chased;
In haste he fled, and so did they,
Each and his fear a sev'ral way.
Crowdero only kept the field,
Not stirring from the place he held,
Though beaten down, and wounded sore,
I' th' Fiddle, and a leg that bore
One side of him, not that of bone,
But much its better, th' wooden one.
He spying Hudibras lie strew'd
Upon the ground, like log of wood,
With fright of fall, supposed wound,
And loss of urine, in a swound,
In haste he snatch'd the wooden limb
That, hurt in the ankle, lay by him,
And fitting it for sudden fight,
Straight drew it up, t' attack the Knight;
For getting up on stump and huckle,
He with the foe began to buckle,
Vowing to be revenged for breach
Of Crowd1 and skin upon the wretch,
Sole author of all detriment
He and his Fiddle underwent.
But Ralpho (who had now begun
Th' adventure resurrection
From heavy squelch, and had got up
Upon his legs, with sprained crup)
Looking about, beheld pernicion
Approaching Knight from fell musician,
He snatch'd his whinyard 2 up, that fled
When he was falling off his steed
(As rats do from a falling house),
To hide itself from rage of blows;
And, wing'd with speed and fury, flew
To rescue Knight from black and blue.
Which ere he could achieve his sconce
The leg encounter'd twice and once:
And now 'twas raised to smite again,
When Ralpho thrust himself between.
He took the blow upon his arm,
To shield the Knight from further harm;
And, joining wrath with force, bestow'd
On th' wooden member such a load,
That down it fell, and with it bore
Crowdero, whom it propp'd before.
To him the Squire right nimbly run,
And setting conqu❜ring foot upon
His trunk, thus spoke: What desp'rate frenzy
Made thee (thou whelp of Sin) to fancy
Thyself, and all that coward rabble,
T'encounter us in battle able?
How durst th', I say, oppose thy Curship
'Gainst arms, authority, and worship,
And Hudibras or me provoke,
Though all thy limbs were heart of oak,
And th' other half of thee as good
To bear out blows as that of wood?
Could not the whipping-post prevail,
With all its rhet'ric, nor the jail,
To keep from flaying scourge thy skin,
And ankle free from iron gin?
Which now thou shalt-but first our care
Must see how Hudibras does fare.
This said, he gently raised the Knight,
And set him on his bum upright:
To rouse him from lethargic dump,
He tweak'd his nose, with gentle thump
Knock'd on his breast, as if 't had been
To raise the spirits lodged within.
They, waken'd with the noise, did fly
From inward room to window eye,
And gently op'ning lid, the casement,
Look'd out, but yet with some amazement.
This gladded Ralpho much to see,
Who thus bespoke the Knight: Quoth he,
Tweaking his nose, You are, great Sir,
A self-denying conqueror ; 1
Self-denying conqueror:' alluding to the self-denying ordinance, by which all the members of the Two Houses were obliged to quit their civil and military employments.
As high, victorious, and great,
As e'er fought for the Churches yet,
If you will give yourself but leave
To make out what y' already have;
That's victory. The foe, for dread
Of your nine-worthiness, is fled;
All, save Crowdero, for whose sake
You did th' espoused Cause undertake :
And he lies pris'ner at your feet,
To be disposed as you think meet,
Either for life, or death, or sale,
The gallows, or perpetual jail :
For one wink of your powerful eye'
Must sentence him to live or die,
His Fiddle is your proper purchase,
Won in the service of the Churches;
And by your doom must be allow'd
To be, or be no more, a Crowd.
For though success did not confer
Just title on the conqueror;
Though dispensations were not strong
Conclusions, whether right or wrong;
Although out-goings did confirm,
And owning were but a mere term:
Yet as the wicked have no right
To th' creature, though usurp'd by might,
The property is in the saint,
From whom th' injuriously detain 't ;
Of him they hold their luxuries,
Their dogs, their horses, whores, and dice,
Their riots, revels, masks, delights,
Pimps, buffoons, fiddlers, parasites;
All which the Saints have title to,
And ought t' enjoy, if th' had their due :
What we take from them is no more
Than what was ours by right before;
For we are their true landlords still,
And they our tenants but at will.
At this the Knight began to rouse,
And by degrees grow valorous.
He stared about, and seeing none
Of all his foes remain, but one,
He snatch'd his weapon that lay near him,
And from the ground began to rear him ;
Vowing to make Crowdero pay
For all the rest that ran away.
But Ralpho now, in colder blood,
His fury mildly thus withstood:
Great Sir, quoth he, your mighty spirit
Is raised too high this slave does merit
To be the hangman's bus'ness, sooner
Than from your hand to have the honour
Of his destruction: I that am
A nothingness in deed and name,
Did scorn to hurt his forfeit carcase,
Or ill intreat his Fiddle or case:
Will you, great Sir, that glory blot
In cold blood, which you gain'd in hot?
Will you employ your conqu'ring sword
To break a fiddle, and your word?
For though I fought, and overcame,
And quarter gave, 'twas in your name.
For great commanders always own
What's prosperous by the soldier done.
To save where you have power to kill,
Argues your power above your will;
And that your will and power have less
Than both might have of selfishness.
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