At this the Knight grew high in chafe, And staring furiously on RALPH, He trembled, and look'd pale with ire Like ashes first, then red as fire. Have I (quoth he) been ta'en in fight, 545 And for so many moons lain by't, And, when all other means did fail, <q> Have been exchang'd for tubs of ale? Not but they thought me worth a ransome Much more consid'rable and handsome, 550 But for their own sakes, and for fear They were not safe when I was there Now to be baffled by a scoundrel, An upstart sect'ry, and a mungrel; Such as breed out of peccant humours, 555 Of our own Church, like wens or tumours, And, like a maggot in a sore, Would that which gave it life devour; It never shall be done or said; With that he seiz'd upon his blade; 560 And RALPHO too, as quick and bold, Upon his basket-hilt laid hold, With equal readiness prcpar'd To draw, and stand upon his guard; When both were parted on the sudden, 565 With hideous clamour, and a loud one As if all sorts of noise had been Contracted into one loud din; Or that some member to be chosen, Had got the odds above a thousand, 570 And by the greatness of its noise, Prov'd fittest for his country's choice. This strange surprisal put the Knight And wrathful Squire into a fright; And though they stood prepar'd, with fatal 575 Impetuous rancour to join battel, Both thought it was the wisest course To wave the fight and mount to horse, And to secure by swift retreating, Themselves from danger of worse beating. 580 Yet neither of them would disparage, By utt'ring of his mind, his courage, Which made them stoutly keep their ground, With horror and disdain wind-bound.