'No sooner did the Knight perceive her, But straight he fell into a fever, Inflam'd all over with disgrace, To be seen by her in such a place; Which made him hang his head, and scowl, And wink, and goggle like an owl. He felt his brains begin to swim, When thus the Dame accosted him, This place (quoth she) they say's enchanted, And with delinquent spirits haunted, That here are tied in chains, and scourged, Until their guilty crimes be purged: Look, there are two of them appear Like persons I have seen somewhere. Some have mistaken blocks and posts For spectres, apparitions, ghosts, With saucer-eyes, and horns, and some Have heard the Devil beat a drum: But if our eyes are not false glasses, That give a wrong account of faces, That beard and I should be acquainted, Before 'twas conjur'd and enchanted; For tho' it be disfigured somewhat, As if 't had lately been in combat, It did belong t' a worthy Knight, Howe'er this goblin is come by it. When Hudibras the lady heard, Discoursing thus upon his beard, And speak with such respect and honour, Both of the beard, and the beard's owner; He thought it best to set as good A face upon it as he cou'd, And thus he spoke: Lady, your bright And radiant eyes are in the right; The beard's th' identic beard you knew, The same numerically true: Nor is it worn by fiend or elf, But its proprietor himself. Oh Heav'ns! quoth she, can that be true? I do begin to fear 'tis you; Not by your individual whiskers, But by your dialect and discourse, That never spoke to man or beast In notions vulgarly exprest. But what malignant star, alas! Has brought you both to this sad pass? Quoth he, The fortune of the war, Which I am less afflicted for, Than to be seen with beard and face By you in such a homely case. Quoth she, Those need not be asham'd For being honourably maim'd; If he that is in battle conquer'd, Have any title to his own beard, Tho' yours be sorely lugg'd and torn, It does your visage more adorn, Than if 'twere prun'd, and starch'd and lander'd, And cut square by the Russian standard. A torn beard's like a tatter'd ensign, That's bravest which there are most rents in, That petticoat about your shoulders Does not so well become a soldier's, And I'm afraid they are worse handled, Although i' th' rear, your beard the van led; And those uneasy bruises make My heart for company to ache, To see so worshipful a friend I' th' pill'ry set at the wrong end.'