More honourable far fervare

Civem, than flay an adversary;

The one we oft to-day have done,

The other shall dispatch anon:

And though thou 'rt of a different church,

I will not leave thee in the lurch.

This faid, he jogg'd his good steed nigher,
And steer'd him gently towards the Squire,
Then bowing down his body, ftretch'd
His hand out, and at Ralpho reach'd ;
When Trulla, whom he did not mind,
Charg'd him like lightening behind.
She had been long in fearch about
Magnano's wound, to find it out,
But could find 'none, nor where the fhot.
That had fo ftartled him was got:

But, having found the worst was paft,
She fell to her own work at last,
The pillage of the prifoners,

Which in all feats of arms was her's;
And now to plunder Ralph fhe flew,
When Hudibras's hard fate drew
To fuccour him; for as he bow'd

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765

770

775

780

To help him up, fhe laid a load

Of blows fo heavy, and plac'd fo well,

On th' other fide, that down he fell.

Yield, fcoundrel bafe, (quoth fhe) or die ;

785

Thy life is mine, and liberty;

But if thou think'ft I took thee tardy,

And dar'ft prefume to be fo hardy

Το

To try thy fortune o'er afresh,

I'll wave my title to thy flesh,

Thy arms and baggage, now my right,
And, if thou haft the heart to try 't,
I'll lend thee back thyfelf a while,
And once more, for that carcase vile,
Fight upon tick.-Quoth Hudibras,
Thou offer'st nobly, valiant lafs,
And I shall take thee at thy word.
First let me rife and take my fword
That fword which has fo oft this day
Through squadrons of my foes made way,
And fome to other worlds difpatcht,
Now with a feeble spinster matcht,
Will blush, with blood ignoble stain’d,
By which no honour 's to be gain'd :
But if thou 'It take m' advice in this,
Confider, whilft thou may'st, what 'tis
To interrupt a victor's course,
B' opposing fuch a trivial force :
For if with conqueft I come off,

(And that I fhall do fure enough)

Quarter thou canst not have, nor grace,

By law of arms,

in fuch a cafe ;

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795

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810

Both

Ver. 791-795.] What a generous and undaunted heroine was Trulla! She makes the greatest figure inthe Canto, and alone conquers the valiant hero of the Poem. There are few inftances, I believe, in either romance or history that come up to this.

Both which I now do offer freely.

I fcorn (quoth she) thou coxcomb filly,
(Clapping her hand upon her breech,
To fhew how much fhe priz'd his fpeech)
Quarter or counsel from a foe;
If thou canst force me to it, do:

But left it fhould again be faid,

When I have once more won thy head,
I took thee napping, unprepar'd,
Arm, and betake thee to thy guard.
This faid, fhe to her tackle fell,

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820

And on the Knight let fall a peal

Of blows fo fierce, and prefs'd fo home,

825

That he retir'd, and follow'd 's bum.

Stand to 't (quoth fhe) or yield to mercy;

It is not fighting arfie-verfie

Shall ferve thy turn.-This ftirr'd his fpleen

More than the danger he was in,

830

The blows he felt, or was to feel,
Although th' already made him reel;
Honour, defpight, revenge, and shame,
At once into his ftomach came;
Which fir'd it fo, he rais'd his arm
Above his head, and rain'd a storm
Of blows fo terrible and thick,
As if he meant to hafh her quick :
But the upon her truncheon took them,
And by oblique diversion broke them,
Waiting an opportunity

835

Which long the fail'd not of; for now

The Knight with one dead-doing blow
Refolving to decide the fight,

845

And the with quick and cunning fleight
Avoiding it, the force and weight
He charg'd upon it was fo great,
As almoft fway'd him to the ground:
No fooner the th' advantage found,

850

But in the flew; and feconding,

With home-made thruft, the heavy swing,

Ver. 856. Instead of this and the nine following lines, in edition 1674, and the following editions, these four ftood in the two first editions of 1663;

Shall I have quarter now, you

ruffin?

Or wilt thou be worse than thy huffing?

Thou faidft th' wouldft kill me, marry wouldst thou! Why dost thou not, thou Jack-a-nods thou?

And when before the fight, th' had'ft vow'd

To give no quarter in cold blood;

Now thou haft got me for a Tartar,

865

To make m' against my will take quarter,
Why doft not put me to the fword,

But cowardly fly from thy word?

Quoth Hudibras, The day 's thine own ;
Thou and thy stars have caft me down :
My laurels are transplanted now,
And flourish on thy conquering brow:
My lofs of honour 's great enough,
Thou needft not brand it with a fcoff
Sarcafms may eclipfe thine own,
But cannot blur my loft renown:
I am not now in Fortune's power,
He that is down can fall no lower.
The ancient heroes were illuftrious
For being benign, and not bluftrous

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Against a vanquifh'd foe: their swords

Were sharp and trenchant, not their words
And did in fight but cut work out

All that's on th' outside of thy hide,

Are