For he, in all his am'rous battles,

No 'dvantage finds like goods and chattels,
Drew home his bow, and aiming right,

Let fly an arrow at the Knight;

The shaft against a rib did glance,

And gall him in the purtenance :

But time had somewhat 'fwag'd his pain,
After he had found his fuit in vain:

For that proud dame, for whom his foul

Was burnt in 's belly like a coal,

-That belly that so oft' did ake,

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And fuffer griping for her fake,
Till purging comfits, and ants' eggs

Had almost brought him off his legs,—
Us'd him fo like a base rascallion,

That old Pyg—what d' y' call him-malion,
That cut his miftrefs out of stone,

Had not fo hard a hearted one.

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She had a thousand jadish tricks,

Worse than a mule that flings and kicks ;
'Mong which one cross-grain'd freak fhe had,
As infolent as strange and mad;

She could love none but only fuch
As fcorn'd and hated her as much.
'Twas a strange riddle of a lady;
Not love, if any lov'd her: ha-day!
So cowards never use their might,

But against such as will not fight.

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So fome diseases have been found

Only to seize upon the found.

He that gets her by heart, must say her
The back-way, like a witch's prayer.

Mean while the Knight had no fmall task 345

To compass what he durft not afk:

He loves, but dares not make the motion;
Her ignorance is his devotion:

Like caitiff vile, that for misdeed
Rides with his face to rump of steed;
Or rowing fcull, he's fain to love,
Look one way, and another move;
Or like a tumbler that does play
His game, and looks another way,
Until he feize upon the coney;
Just so does he by matrimony.
But all in vain her fubtle fnout

Did quickly wind his meaning out;
Which the return'd with too much scorn,
To be by man of honour born;

Yet much he bore, until the distress

He fuffer'd from his spightful mistress
Did ftir his stomach, and the pain
He had endur'd from her difdain
Turn'd to regret so resolute,

That he refolv'd to wave his fuit,

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And either to renounce her quite,

Or for a while play least in sight.

This refolution b'ing put on,

He kept some months, and more had done, 370
But being brought fo nigh by fate,

The vict❜ry he atchiev'd so late
Did fet his thoughts agog, and ope
A door to discontinu'd hope,

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That seem'd to promise he might win
His dame too, now his hand was in;
And that his valour, and the honour
He 'ad newly gain'd, might work upon her:
These reasons made his mouth to water,

With am'rous longings, to be at her.

Thought he, unto himself, who knows

But this brave conqueft o'er my foes
May reach her heart, and make that stoop,
As I but now have forc'd the troop?

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If nothing can oppugne love,

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And virtue invious ways can prove,

What may not he confide to do
That brings both love and virtue too?
But thou bring'st valour too, and wit,
Two things that seldom fail to hit.
Valour's a mouse-trap, wit a gin,

Which women oft' are taken in :

Then, Hudibras, why should'st thou fear
To be, that art a conqueror ?

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Fortune the audacious doth juvare,
But lets the timidous miscarry:
Then, while the honour thou haft got
Is fpick and span new, piping hot,
Strike her up bravely thou hadst best,
And trust thy fortune with the rest.
Such thoughts as these the Knight did keep

More than his bangs, or fleas, from sleep;

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