But RALPHO (who had now begun T' adventure resurrection From heavy squelch, and had got up Upon his legs, with sprained crup) 935 Looking about, beheld pernicion Approaching Knight from fell musician. He snatch'd his whinyard up, that fled When he was falling off his steed, (As rats do from a falling house,) 940 To hide itself from rage of blows; And, wing'd with speed and fury, flew To rescue Knight from black and blew; Which, e'er he cou'd atchieve, his sconce The leg encounter'd twice and once; 945 And now 'twas rais'd to smite agen, When RALPHO thrust himself between. He took the blow upon his arm, To shield the Knight from further harm; And, joining wrath with force, bestow'd 950 On th' wooden member such a load, That down it fell, and with it bore CROWDERO, whom it propp'd before. To him the Squire right nimbly run, And setting conquering foot upon 955 His trunk, thus spoke: What desp'rate frenzy Made thee (thou whelp of Sin!) to fancy Thyself, and all that coward rabble, T' encounter us in battle able? How durst th', I say, oppose thy curship 960 'Gainst arms, authority, and worship? And HUDIBRAS or me provoke, Though all thy limbs, were heart of oke, And th' other half of thee as good To bear out blows, as that of wood? 965 Cou'd not the whipping-post prevail With all its rhet'ric, nor the jail, To keep from flaying scourge thy skin, And ankle free from iron gin? Which now thou shalt -- But first our care 970 Must see how HUDIBRAS doth fare. This said, he gently rais'd the Knight, And set him on his bum upright. To rouse him from lethargic dump, He tweak'd his nose; with gentle thump 975 Knock'd on his breast, as if 't had been To raise the spirits lodg'd within. They, waken'd with the noise, did fly From inward room to window eye, And gently op'ning lid, the casement, 980 Look'd out, but yet with some amazement. This gladded RALPHO much to see, Who thus bespoke the Knight: quoth he, Tweaking his nose, You are, great Sir, A self-denying conqueror; 985 As high, victorious, and great, As e'er fought for the Churches yet, If you will give yourself but leave To make out what y' already have; That's victory. The foe, for dread 990 Of your nine-worthiness, is fled: All, save CROWDERO, for whose sake You did th' espous'd Cause undertake; And he lies pris'ner at your feet, To be dispos'd as you think meet; 995 Either for life, or death, or sale, The gallows, or perpetual jail; For one wink of your powerful eye Must sentence him to live or die. His fiddle is your proper purchase, 1000 Won in the service of the Churches; And by your doom must be allow'd To be, or be no more, a crowd.