Page:Hudibras - Volume 1 (Butler, Nash, Bohn; 1859).djvu/192

114 And when before the fight, th' hadst vow'd To give no quarter in cold blood; Now thou hast got me for a Tartar, To make m' against my will take quarter; Why dost not put me to the sword, But cowardly fly from thy word? Quoth Hudibras, The day 's thine own; Thou and thy stars have cast me down: My laurels are transplanted now, And flourish on thy conqu'ring brow: My loss of honour 's great enough, Thou need'st not brand it with a scoff: Sarcasms may eclipse thine own, But cannot blur my lost renown: I am not now in fortune's power, He that is down can fall no lower. The ancient heroes were illustr'ous For being benign, and not blust'rous Against a vanquish'd foe: their swords Where sharp and trenchant, not their words; And did in tight but cut work out T' employ their courtesies about. Quoth she, Altho' thou hast deserv'd, Base Slubberdegullion, to be serv'd As thou didst vow to deal with me, If thou hadst got the victory; Yet I should rather act a part That suits my fame, than thy desert.