1085
Though he has quarter, ne’er the less
Y’ have power to hang him when you please. 
This has been often done by some
Of our great conqu’rors, you know whom;
And has by most of us been held 1090
Wise Justice, and to some reveal’d. 
For words and promises, that yoke
The conqueror, are quickly broke;
Like SAMPSON’s cuffs, though by his own
Direction and advice put on. 1095
For if we should fight for the cause
By rules of military laws,
And only do what they call just,
The Cause would quickly fall to dust. 
This we among ourselves may speak; 1100
But to the wicked, or the weak,
We must be cautious to declare
Perfection-truths, such as these are.

This said, the high outrageous mettle
Of Knight began to cool and settle. 1105
He lik’d the Squire’s advice, and soon
Resolv’d to see the business done
And therefore charg’d him first to bind
CROWDERO’S hands on rump behind,
And to its former place and use, 1110
The wooden member to reduce
But force it take an oath before,
Ne’er to bear arms against him more.

Ralpho dispatch’d with speedy haste,
And having ty’d Crowdero fast, 1115
He gave Sir Knight the end of cord,
To lead the captive of his sword
In triumph, whilst the steeds he caught,
And them to further service brought. 
The Squire in state rode on before, 1120
And on his nut-brown whinyard bore
The trophee-fiddle and the case,
Leaning on shoulder like a mace. 
The Knight himself did after ride,
Leading Crowdero by his side; 1125
And tow’d him, if he lagg’d behind,
Like boat against the tide and wind. 
Thus grave and solemn they march’d on,
Until quite thro’ the town th’ had gone;
At further end of which there stands 1130
An ancient castle, that commands
Th’ adjacent parts:  in all the fabrick
You shall not see one stone nor a brick;
But all of wood; by pow’rful spell
Of magic made impregnable. 1135
There’s neither iron-bar nor gate,
Portcullis, chain, nor bolt, nor grate,
And yet men durance there abide,
In dungeon scarce three inches wide;
With roof so low, that under it 1140
They never stand, but lie or sit;
And yet so foul, that whoso is in,
Is to the middle-leg in prison;
In circle magical conflu’d,
With walls of subtile air and wind, 1145
Which none are able to break thorough,
Until they’re freed by head of borough. 
Thither arriv’d, th’ advent’rous Knight
And bold Squire from their steeds alight
At th’ outward wall, near which there stands