What then (quoth Hudibras) was he 135
That play’d the Dev’l to examine me? 
A rallying weaver in the town,
That did it in a parson’s gown;
Whom all the parish take for gifted;
But, for my part, I ne’er believ’d it:  140
In which you told them all your feats,
Your conscientious frauds and cheats;
Deny’d your whipping, and confest
The naked truth of all the rest,
More plainly than the Rev’rend Writer, 145
That to our Churches veil’d his Mitre;
All which they took in black and white,
And cudgell’d me to under-write.

What made thee, when they all were gone,
And none but thou and I alone, 150
To act the Devil, and forbear
To rid me of my hellish fear?

Quoth he, I knew your constant rate
And frame of sp’rit too obstinate
To be by me prevail’d upon 155
With any motives of my own;
And therefore strove to counterfeit
The Dev’l a-while, to nick your wit;
The Devil, that is your constant crony,
That only can prevail upon ye; 160
Else we might still have been disputing,
And they with weighty drubs confuting.

The Knight who now began to find
Th’ had left the enemy behind,
And saw no farther harm remain, 165
But feeble weariness and pain;
Perceiv’d, by losing of their way,
Th’ had gain’d th’ advantage of the day;
And, by declining of the road,
They had, by chance, their rear made good; 170
He ventur’d to dismiss his fear,
That parting’s wont to rent and tear,
And give the desperat’st attack
To danger still behind its back. 
For having paus’d to recollect, 175
And on his past success reflect,
T’ examine and consider why,
And whence, and how, they came to fly,
And when no Devil had appear’d,
What else, it cou’d be said, he fear’d; 180
It put him in so fierce a rage,
He once resolv’d to re-engage;
Toss’d like a foot-ball back again,
With shame and vengeance, and disdain. 
Quoth he, it was thy cowardice 185
That made me from this leaguer rise
And when I’d half reduc’d the place,
To quit it infamously base
Was better cover’d by the new
Arriv’d detachment then I knew; 190
To slight my new acquests, and run
Victoriously from battles won;
And reck’ning all I gain’d or lost,
To sell them cheaper than they cost;
To make me put myself to flight, 195
And conqu’ring run away by night
To drag me out, which th’ haughty foe
Durst never have presum’d to do
To mount me in the dark, by force,
Upon the bare ridge of my horse; 200
Expos’d in querpo to their rage,
Without my arms and equipage;
Lest, if they ventur’d to pursue,
I might th’ unequal fight renew;
And, to preserve thy Outward Man, 205
Assum’d my place, and led the van.