Was I for this entitled SIR, And girt with trusty sword and spur, For fame and honor to wage battle, Thus to be brav'd by foe to cattle? 745 Not all that pride that makes thee swell As big as thou dost blown-up veal; Nor all thy tricks and sleights to cheat, And sell thy carrion for good meat; Not all thy magic to repair 750 Decay'd old age in tough lean ware; Make nat'ral appear thy work, And stop the gangrene in stale pork; Not all that force that makes thee proud, Because by bullock ne'er withstood; 755 Though arm'd with all thy cleavers, knives, And axes made to hew down lives, Shall save or help thee to evade The hand of Justice, or this blade, Which I, her sword-bearer, do carry, 760 For civil deed and military. Nor shall those words of venom base, Which thou hast from their native place, Thy stomach, pump'd to fling on me, Go unreveng'd, though I am free: 765 Thou down the same throat shalt devour 'em, Like tainted beef, and pay dear for 'em. Nor shall it e'er be said, that wight With gantlet blue, and bases white, And round blunt truncheon by his side, 770 So great a man at arms defy'd With words far bitterer than wormwood, That would in Job or Grizel stir mood. Dogs with their tongues their wounds do heal; But men with hands, as thou shalt feel. 775 This said, with hasty rage he snatch'd His gun-shot, that in holsters watch'd; And bending cock, he levell'd full Against th' outside of TALGOL'S skull; Vowing that he shou'd ne'er stir further, 780 Nor henceforth cow nor bullock murther. But PALLAS came in shape of rust, And 'twixt the spring and hammerthrust Her Gorgon shield, which made the cock Stand stiff, as t'were transform'd to stock. 785 Mean while fierce TALGOL, gath'ring might, With rugged truncheon charg'd the Knight; But he with petronel upheav'd, Instead of shield, the blow receiv'd. The gun recoil'd, as well it might, 790 Not us'd to such a kind of fight, And shrunk from its great master's gripe, Knock'd down and stunn'd by mortal stripe. Then HUDIBRAS, with furious haste, Drew out his sword; yet not so fast, 795 But TALGOL first, with hardy thwack, Twice bruis'd his head, and twice his back. But when his nut-brown sword was out, With stomach huge he laid about, Imprinting many a wound upon 800 His mortal foe, the truncheon. The trusty cudgel did oppose Itself against dead-doing blows, To guard its leader from fell bane, And then reveng'd itself again. 805 And though the sword (some understood) In force had much the odds of wood, 'Twas nothing so; both sides were ballanc't So equal, none knew which was valiant'st: For wood with Honour b'ing engag'd, 810