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Rh Ne may grim Saracene, nor Tartar man, Such ruthlesse bondage on his slave impose, As Kathrin on the Knight full deffly can; Ne may the Knight escape, or cure his woes: As he who dreams he climbs some mountains brows, With painful struggling up the steep height strains, Anxious he pants and toils, but strength foregoes His feeble limbs, and not a step he gains; So toils the powrelesse Knight beneath his servile chains.

His lawyer now assumes the guardians place; Learnd was thilk clerk in deeds, and passing slie; Slow was his speeche, and solemn was his face As that grave bird which Athens rankt so high; Pleasd Dullness basking in his glossie eye, The smyle would oft steal through his native phlegm; And well he guards Syr Martyns propertie, Till not one peasant dares invade the game: But certes, seven yeares rent was soon his own just claim.