Page:Hudibras - Volume 1 (Butler, Nash, Bohn; 1859).djvu/175

CANTO III.] For he, in all h                                                                                   is am'rous battles, No 'dvantage finds like goods and chattels, Drew home his bow, and aiming right, Let fly an arrow at the Knight; The shaft against a rib did glance, And gall him in the purtenance; But time had somewhat 'swaged his pain, After he had found his suit in vain: For that proud dame, for whom his soul Was burnt in 's belly like a coal, That belly that so oft did ake. And suffer griping for her sake, Till purging comfits and ant's eggs Had almost brought him off his legs,— Us'd him so like a base rascallion, That old Pyg—what d' y' call him—malion, That cut his mistress out of stone, Had not so hard a hearted one. She had a thousand jadish tricks, Worse than a mule that flings and kicks; 'Mong which one cross-grain'd freak she had, As insolent as strange and mad; She could love none but only such As scorn'd and hated her as much. 'Twas a strange riddle of a lady; Not love, if any lov'd her? hey-day! So cowards never use their might. But against such as will not fight.