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The Knight himself did after ride,
Leading Crowdero by his fide;
And tow'd him, if he lagg'd behind,
Like boat, against the tide and wind.
Thus grave and folemn they march on,
Until quite thro' the town they 'ad gone :
At further end of which there stands
An ancient caftle, that commands
Th' adjacent parts; in all the fabrick
You fhall not fee one stone nor a brick,
But all of wood, by pow'rful spell
Of magic made impregnable :

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There's neither iron bar nor gate,

Portcullis, chain, nor bolt, nor grate;
And yet men durance there abide,
In dungeon scarce three inches wide;
With roof fo low, that under it

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They never stand, but lie or fit;

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And yet fo foul, that whofo is in,

Is to the middle leg in prison;

In circle magical confin'd,

With walls of fubtle air and wind,

Which none are able to break thorough, 1145
Until they're freed by head of borough.
Thither arriv'd, the advent'rous Knight
And bold Squire from their steeds alight
At th' outward wall, near which there stands
A Baftile, built t' imprifon hands;

By strange enchantment made to fetter
The leffer parts, and free the greater :
For tho' the body may creep through,
The hands in grate are fast enough:
And when a circle 'bout the wrist
Is made by beadle exorcift,
The body feels the spur and switch,
As if 't were ridden post by witch,

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At twenty miles an hour pace,

And yet ne'er stirs out of the place.

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On top of this there is a spire,

On which Sir Knight first bids the Squire

The fiddle, and its spoils, the case,

In manner of a trophy, place.

That done, they ope the trap-door gate, 1165

And let Crowdero down thereat.

Crowdero making doleful face,

Like hermit poor in pensive place,

To dungeon they the wretch commit,
And the furvivor of his feet;

But th' other, that had broke the peace,
And head of knighthood, they release,
Tho' a delinquent falfe and forged,

Yet b'ing a stranger he's enlarged;

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While his comrade, that did no hurt,
Is clapp'd up fast in prison for 't:
So justice, while fhe winks at crimes,
Stumbles on innocence fometimes.

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