. . . . . He drew up all his force into One body and into one blow. . . . . . The Knight, with all its weight, fell down . . . . . Like a feather bed betwixt a wall And heavy brunt of cannon ball. . . . . . Crowdero only kept the field, Not stirring from the place he held; Though beaten down and wounded sore, I' th' Fiddle, and a leg that bore One side of him--not that of bone, But much its better, th' wooden one. He spying Hudibras lie strew'd Upon the ground, like log of wood, . . . . . In haste he snatch'd the wooden limb That, hurt in th' ankle, lay by him, And, fitting it for sudden fight, Straight drew it up, t' attack the Knight; . . . . . Vowing to be reveng'd, for breach Of Crowd and skin, upon the wretch,[6] Sole author of all detriment He and his Fiddle underwent. . . . . . 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 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 his bold foot upon His trunk, thus spoke: 'What desp'rate frenzy Made thee, thou whelp of sin, to fancy Thyself, and all that coward rabble, To encounter us in battle able? How durst th', I say, oppose thy curship 'Gainst, arms, authority, and worship, And Hudibras or me provoke, . . . . . ... but first our care Must see how Hudibras doth fare.' This said, he gently rais'd the Knight, . . . . . To rouse him from lethargic dump, He tweak'd his nose with gentle thump, 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, 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; As high, victorious, and great As e'er fought for the churches yet. . . . . .