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Till tir’d, and taking truce at length,
For new recruits of breath and strength,
I felt the blows still ply'd as fast,
As if they ’ad been by lovers plac’d,
In raptures of Platonic lashing,
And chaste contemplative bardashing :
When facing hastily about,
To stand upon my guard and scout,
I found th' infernal cunning man,
And th’under-witch, his caliban,
With scourges, like the furies, arm'd,
That on my outward quarters storm’d.
In haste I snatch'd my weapon up,
And gave their hellish rage a stop;
Calld thrice upon your name, and fell
Courageously on Sidrophel,
Who now transform’d himself t'a bear,
Began to roar aloud, and tear ;

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When I as furiously press’d on,
My weapon down his throat to run,
Laid hold on him ; but he broke loose,
And turn’d himself into a goose,
Div'd under water, in a pond,
To hide himself from being found;
In vain I fought him ; but as soon
As I perceiv'd him fled and

gone,
Prepar’d, with equal haste and rage,
His under-forc'rer to engage ;
But bravely scorning to defile
My sword with feeble blood, and vile,
I judg’d it better from a quick-
Set-hedge to cut a knotted stick,
With which I furiously laid on ;
Till, in a harsh and doleful tone,
It roar'd out, o hold, for pity, sir,
I am too great a sufferer,

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Abus'd as you have been b’ a witch,
But conjur'd-int' a worse caprich,
Who sends me out on many a jaunt,
Old houses in the night to haunt,
For opportunities t’ improve
Designs of thievery or love;
With drugs convey'd in drink or meat,
All feats of witches counterfeit ;
Kill pigs and geese with powder'd glass,
And make it for enchantment pass ;
With cow-itch meazle like a leper,
And choke with fumes of Guinea pepper ; 320
Make letchers, and their punks, with dewtry,
Commit phantastical advowtry;
Bewitch hermetic men to run
Stark staring mad with manicon ;
Believe mechanic virtuosi

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And fillier than the antic fools,
Take treasure for a heap of coals ;
Seek out for plants with signatures,
To quack off universal cures;
With figures, ground on pains of glass,
Make people on their heads to pass ;
And mighty heaps of coin increase,
Reflected from a single piece ;
To draw in fools, whose nat'ral itches
Incline perpetually to witches,
And keep me in continual fears,
And danger of my neck and ears
When less delinquents have been scourg'd,
And hemp on wooden anvils forg’d,
Which others for cravats have worn
About their necks, and took a turn.

I pity'd the fad punishment
The wretched caitiff underwent,

;

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And held my drubbing of his bones
Too great an honour for poltroons ;
For knights are bound to feel no blows
From paltry and unequal foes,
Who, when they slash and cut to pieces,
Do all with civillest addresses :
Their horses never give a blow,
But when they make a leg and bow.
I therefore spar'd his flesh, and prest him
About the witch, with many a question.

Quoth he, for many years he drove
A kind of broking-trade in love,
Employ'd in all th’ intrigues and trust,
Of feeble speculative lust;
Procurer to th' extravagancy,
And crazy ribaldry of fancy,
By those the devil had forsook,
As things below him, to provoke ;

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