Quoth Ralph, I should not, if I were 745
In case for action, now be here: 
Nor have I turn’d my back, or hang’d
An arse, for fear of being bang’d. 
It was for you I got these harms,
Advent’ring to fetch off your arms. 750
The blows and drubs I have receiv’d
Have bruis’d my body, and bereav’d
My limbs of strength.  Unless you stoop,
And reach your hand to pull me up,
I shall lie here, and be a prey 755
To those who now are run away.

That thou shalt not, (quoth Hudibras;)
We read, the ancients held it was
More honourable far, servare
Civem, than slay an adversary:  760
The one we oft to-day have done,
The other shall dispatch anon: 
And though th’ art of a diff’rent Church
I will not leave thee in the lurch. 
This said, he jogg’d his good steed nigher, 765
And steer’d him gently toward the Squire;
Then bowing down his body, stretch’d
His hand out, and at Ralpho reach’d;
When TRULLA, whom he did not mind,
Charg’d him like lightening behind. 770
She had been long in search about
MAGNANO’S wound, to find it out;
But could find none, nor where the shot,
That had so startled him, was got
But having found the worst was past, 775
She fell to her own work at last,
The pillage of the prisoners,
Which in all feats of arms was hers;
And now to plunder Ralph she flew,
When Hudibras his hard fate drew 780
To succour him; for, as he bow’d
To help him up, she laid a load
Of blows so heavy, and plac’d so well,
On t’other side, that down he fell. 
Yield, scoundrel base, (quoth she,) or die:  785
Thy life is mine and liberty: 
But if thou think’st I took thee tardy,
And dar’st presume to be so hardy,
To try thy fortune o’er a-fresh,
I’ll wave my title to thy flesh, 790
Thy arms and baggage, now my right;
And if thou hast the heart to try’t,
I’ll lend thee back thyself a while,
And once more, for that carcass vile,
Fight upon tick. —­ Quoth Hudibras, 795
Thou offer’st nobly, valiant lass,
And I shall take thee at thy word. 
First let me rise and take my sword. 
That sword which has so oft this day
Through squadrons of my foes made way, 800
And some to other worlds dispatch’d,
Now with a feeble spinster match’d,
Will blush with blood ignoble stain’d,
By which no honour’s to be gain’d. 
But if thou’lt take m’ advice in this, 805
Consider whilst thou may’st, what ’tis
To interrupt a victor’s course,
B’ opposing such a trivial force: 
For if with conquest I come off,