The beauteous Doralice, who sees her guide So quit the field, -- dismayed at his retreat, And wonted in his succour to confide, Her hackney drives behind his courser fleet:
The paynim rates the charger, in his pride, And smites him oftentimes with hands and feet;
Threatening, as if he understood his lore;
And where he'd stop the courser, chafes him more.
