4. t.  .1 | THE FOVRTH
4. t.  .2 |   BOOKE OF THE
4. t.  .3 |     FAERIE QVEENE.
4. t.  .4 |     \Containing\
4. t.  .5 | The Legend of CAMBEL AND TELAMOND,
4. t.  .6 |               OR
4. t.  .7 |           OF FRIENDSHIP.

4. p. 1.1 | The rugged forhead that with graue foresight
4. p. 1.2 |   Welds kingdomes causes, and affaires of state,
4. p. 1.3 |   My looser rimes (I wote) doth sharply wite,
4. p. 1.4 |   For praising loue, as I haue done of late,
4. p. 1.5 |   And magnifying louers deare debate;
4. p. 1.6 |   By which fraile youth is oft to follie led,
4. p. 1.7 |   Through false allurement of that pleasing baite,
4. p. 1.8 |   That better were in vertues discipled,
4. p. 1.9 | Then with vaine poemes weeds to haue their fancies fed.


4. p. 2.1 | Such ones ill iudge of loue, that cannot loue,
4. p. 2.2 |   Ne in their frosen hearts feele kindly flame:
4. p. 2.3 |   For thy they ought not thing vnknowne reproue,
4. p. 2.4 |   Ne naturall affection faultlesse blame,
4. p. 2.5 |   For fault of few that haue abusd the same.
4. p. 2.6 |   For it of honor and all vertue is
4. p. 2.7 |   The roote, and brings forth glorious flowres of fame,
4. p. 2.8 |   That crowne true louers with immortall blis,
4. p. 2.9 | The meed of them that loue, and do not liue amisse.

4. p. 3.1 | Which who so list looke backe to former ages,
4. p. 3.2 |   And call to count the things that then were donne,
4. p. 3.3 |   Shall find, that all the workes of those wise sages,
4. p. 3.4 |   And braue exploits which great Heroes wonne,
4. p. 3.5 |   In loue were either ended or begunne:
4. p. 3.6 |   Witnesse the father of Philosophie,
4. p. 3.7 |   Which to his \Critias\, shaded oft from sunne,
4. p. 3.8 |   Of loue full manie lessons did apply,
4. p. 3.9 | The which these Stoicke censours cannot well deny.

4. p. 4.1 | To such therefore I do not sing at all,
4. p. 4.2 |   But to that sacred Saint my soueraigne Queene,
4. p. 4.3 |   In whose chast breast all bountie naturall,
4. p. 4.4 |   And treasures of true loue enlocked beene,
4. p. 4.5 |   Boue all her sexe that euer yet was seene;
4. p. 4.6 |   To her I sing of loue, that loueth best,
4. p. 4.7 |   And best is lou'd of all aliue I weene:
4. p. 4.8 |   To her this song most fitly is addrest,
4. p. 4.9 | The Queene of loue, and Prince of peace from heauen blest.

4. p. 5.1 | Which that she may the better deigne to heare,
4. p. 5.2 |   Do thou dred infant, \Venus\ dearling doue,
4. p. 5.3 |   From her high spirit chase imperious feare,
4. p. 5.4 |   And vse of awfull Maiestie remoue:
4. p. 5.5 |   In sted thereof with drops of melting loue,
4. p. 5.6 |   Deawd with ambrosiall kisses, by thee gotten
4. p. 5.7 |   From thy sweete smyling mother from aboue,
4. p. 5.8 |   Sprinckle her heart, and haughtie courage soften,
4. p. 5.9 | That she may hearke to loue, and reade this lesson often.


4. 1. A.1 | \Fayre Britomart saues Amoret,\
4. 1. A.2 |   \Duessa discord breedes\
4. 1. A.3 | \Twixt Scudamour and Blandamour:\
4. 1. A.4 |   \Their fight and warlike deedes.\

4. 1. 1.1 | Of louers sad calamities of old,
4. 1. 1.2 |   Full many piteous stories doe remaine,
4. 1. 1.3 |   But none more piteous euer was ytold,
4. 1. 1.4 |   Then that of \Amorets\ hart-binding chaine,
4. 1. 1.5 |   And this of \Florimels\ vnworthie paine:
4. 1. 1.6 |   The deare compassion of whose bitter fit
4. 1. 1.7 |   My softened heart so sorely doth constraine,
4. 1. 1.8 |   That I with teares full oft doe pittie it,
4. 1. 1.9 | And oftentimes doe wish it neuer had bene writ.

4. 1. 2.1 | For from the time that \Scudamour\ her bought
4. 1. 2.2 |   In perilous fight, she neuer ioyed day,
4. 1. 2.3 |   A perilous fight when he with force her brought
4. 1. 2.4 |   From twentie Knights, that did him all assay:
4. 1. 2.5 |   Yet fairely well he did them all dismay:
4. 1. 2.6 |   And with great glorie both the shield of loue,
4. 1. 2.7 |   And eke the Ladie selfe he brought away,
4. 1. 2.8 |   Whom hauing wedded as did him behoue,
4. 1. 2.9 | A new vnknowen mischiefe did from him remoue.

4. 1. 3.1 | For that same vile Enchauntour \Busyran\,
4. 1. 3.2 |   The very selfe same day that she was wedded,
4. 1. 3.3 |   Amidst the bridale feast, whilest euery man
4. 1. 3.4 |   Surcharg'd with wine, were heedlesse and ill hedded,
4. 1. 3.5 |   All bent to mirth before the bride was bedded,
4. 1. 3.6 |   Brought in that mask of loue which late was showen:
4. 1. 3.7 |   And there the Ladie ill of friends bestedded,
4. 1. 3.8 |   By way of sport, as oft in maskes is knowen,
4. 1. 3.9 | Conueyed quite away to liuing wight vnknowen.

4. 1. 4.1 | Seuen moneths he so her kept in bitter smart,
4. 1. 4.2 |   Because his sinfull lust she would not serue,
4. 1. 4.3 |   Vntill such time as noble \Britomart\
4. 1. 4.4 |   Released her, that else was like to sterue,
4. 1. 4.5 |   Through cruell knife that her deare heart did kerue.
4. 1. 4.6 |   And now she is with her vpon the way,
4. 1. 4.7 |   Marching in louely wise, that could deserue
4. 1. 4.8 |   No spot of blame, though spite did oft assay
4. 1. 4.9 | To blot her with dishonor of so faire a pray.

4. 1. 5.1 | Yet should it be a pleasant tale, to tell
4. 1. 5.2 |   The diuerse vsage and demeanure daint,
4. 1. 5.3 |   That each to other made, as oft befell.
4. 1. 5.4 |   For \Amoret\ right fearefull was and faint,
4. 1. 5.5 |   Lest she with blame her honor should attaint,
4. 1. 5.6 |   That euerie word did tremble as she spake,
4. 1. 5.7 |   And euerie looke was coy, and wondrous quaint,
4. 1. 5.8 |   And euerie limbe that touched her did quake:
4. 1. 5.9 | Yet could she not but curteous countenance to her make.

4. 1. 6.1 | For well she wist, as true it was indeed,
4. 1. 6.2 |   That her liues Lord and patrone of her health
4. 1. 6.3 |   Right well deserued as his duefull meed,
4. 1. 6.4 |   Her loue, her seruice, and her vtmost wealth.
4. 1. 6.5 |   All is his iustly, that all freely dealth:
4. 1. 6.6 |   Nathlesse her honor dearer then her life,
4. 1. 6.7 |   She sought to saue, as thing reseru'd from stealth;
4. 1. 6.8 |   Die had she leuer with Enchanters knife,
4. 1. 6.9 | Then to be false in loue, profest a virgine wife.

4. 1. 7.1 | Thereto her feare was made so much the greater
4. 1. 7.2 |   Through fine abusion of that Briton mayd:
4. 1. 7.3 |   Who for to hide her fained sex the better,
4. 1. 7.4 |   And maske her wounded mind, both did and sayd
4. 1. 7.5 |   Full many things so doubtfull to be wayd,
4. 1. 7.6 |   That well she wist not what by them to gesse,
4. 1. 7.7 |   For other whiles to her she purpos made
4. 1. 7.8 |   Of loue, and otherwhiles of lustfulnesse,
4. 1. 7.9 | That much she feard his mind would grow to some excesse.

4. 1. 8.1 | His will she feard; for him she surely thought
4. 1. 8.2 |   To be a man, such as indeed he seemed,
4. 1. 8.3 |   And much the more, by that he lately wrought,
4. 1. 8.4 |   When her from deadly thraldome he redeemed,
4. 1. 8.5 |   For which no seruice she too much esteemed,
4. 1. 8.6 |   Yet dread of shame, and doubt of fowle dishonor
4. 1. 8.7 |   Made her not yeeld so much, as due she deemed.
4. 1. 8.8 |   Yet \Britomart\ attended duly on her,
4. 1. 8.9 | As well became a knight, and did to her all honor.

4. 1. 9.1 | It so befell one euening, that they came
4. 1. 9.2 |   Vnto a Castell, lodged there to bee,
4. 1. 9.3 |   Where many a knight, and many a louely Dame
4. 1. 9.4 |   Was then assembled, deeds of armes to see:
4. 1. 9.5 |   Amongst all which was none more faire then shee,
4. 1. 9.6 |   That many of them mou'd to eye her sore.
4. 1. 9.7 |   The custome of that place was such, that hee
4. 1. 9.8 |   Which had no loue nor lemman there in store,
4. 1. 9.9 | Should either winne him one, or lye without the dore.

4. 1.10.1 | Amongst the rest there was a iolly knight,
4. 1.10.2 |   Who being asked for his loue, auow'd
4. 1.10.3 |   That fairest \Amoret\ was his by right,
4. 1.10.4 |   And offred that to iustifie alowd.
4. 1.10.5 |   The warlike virgine seeing his so prowd
4. 1.10.6 |   And boastfull chalenge, wexed inlie wroth,
4. 1.10.7 |   But for the present did her anger shrowd;
4. 1.10.8 |   And sayd, her loue to lose she was full loth,
4. 1.10.9 | But either he should neither of them haue, or both.

4. 1.11.1 | So foorth they went, and both together giusted;
4. 1.11.2 |   But that same younker soone was ouerthrowne,
4. 1.11.3 |   And made repent, that he had rashly lusted
4. 1.11.4 |   For thing vnlawfull, that was not his owne:
4. 1.11.5 |   Yet since he seemed valiant, through vnknowne,
4. 1.11.6 |   She that no lesse was courteous then stout,
4. 1.11.7 |   Cast how to salue, that both the custome showne
4. 1.11.8 |   Were kept, and yet that Knight not locked out,
4. 1.11.9 | That seem'd full hard t'=accord two things so far in dout.

4. 1.12.1 | The Seneschall was cal'd to deeme the right,
4. 1.12.2 |   Whom she requir'd, that first fayre \Amoret\
4. 1.12.3 |   Might be to her allow'd, as to a Knight,
4. 1.12.4 |   That did her win and free from chalenge set:
4. 1.12.5 |   Which straight to her was yeelded without let.
4. 1.12.6 |   Then since that strange Knights loue from him was quitted,
4. 1.12.7 |   She claim'd that to her selfe, as Ladies det,
4. 1.12.8 |   He as a Knight might iustly be admitted;
4. 1.12.9 | So none should be out shut, sith all of loues were fitted.

4. 1.13.1 | With that her glistring helmet she vnlaced;
4. 1.13.2 |   Which doft, her golden lockes, that were vp bound
4. 1.13.3 |   Still in a knot, vnto her heeles downe traced,
4. 1.13.4 |   And like a silken veile in compasse round
4. 1.13.5 |   About her backe and all her bodie wound:
4. 1.13.6 |   Like as the shining skie in summers night,
4. 1.13.7 |   What time the dayes with scorching heat abound,
4. 1.13.8 |   Is creasted all with lines of firie light,
4. 1.13.9 | That it prodigious seemes in common peoples sight.

4. 1.14.1 | Such when those Knights and Ladies all about
4. 1.14.2 |   Beheld her, all were with amazement smit,
4. 1.14.3 |   And euery one gan grow in secret dout
4. 1.14.4 |   Of this and that, according to each wit:
4. 1.14.5 |   Some thought that some enchantment faygned it;
4. 1.14.6 |   Some, that \Bellona\ in that warlike wise
4. 1.14.7 |   To them appear'd, with shield and armour fit;
4. 1.14.8 |   Some, that it was a maske of strange disguise:
4. 1.14.9 | So diuersely each one did sundrie doubts deuise.

4. 1.15.1 | But that young Knight, which through her gentle deed
4. 1.15.2 |   Was to that goodly fellowship restor'd,
4. 1.15.3 |   Ten thousand thankes did yeeld her for her meed,
4. 1.15.4 |   And doubly ouercommen, her ador'd:
4. 1.15.5 |   So did they all their former strife accord;
4. 1.15.6 |   And eke fayre \Amoret\ now freed from feare,
4. 1.15.7 |   More franke affection did to her afford,
4. 1.15.8 |   And to her bed, which she was wont forbeare,
4. 1.15.9 | Now freely drew, and found right safe assurance theare.

4. 1.16.1 | Where all that night they of their loues did treat,
4. 1.16.2 |   And hard aduentures twixt themselues alone,
4. 1.16.3 |   That each the other gan with passion great,
4. 1.16.4 |   And griefull pittie priuately bemone.
4. 1.16.5 |   The morow next so soone as \Titan\ shone,
4. 1.16.6 |   They both vprose, and to their waies them dight:
4. 1.16.7 |   Long wandred they, yet neuer met with none,
4. 1.16.8 |   That to their willes could them direct aright,
4. 1.16.9 | Or to them tydings tell, that mote their harts delight.

4. 1.17.1 | Lo thus they rode, till at the last they spide
4. 1.17.2 |   Two armed Knights, that toward them did pace,
4. 1.17.3 |   And ech of them had ryding by his side
4. 1.17.4 |   A Ladie, seeming in so farre a space,
4. 1.17.5 |   But Ladies none they were, albee in face
4. 1.17.6 |   And outward shew faire semblance they did beare;
4. 1.17.7 |   For vnder maske of beautie and good grace,
4. 1.17.8 |   Vile treason and fowle falshood hidden were,
4. 1.17.9 | That mote to none but to the warie wise appeare.

4. 1.18.1 | The one of them the false \Duessa\ hight,
4. 1.18.2 |   That now had chang'd her former wonted hew:
4. 1.18.3 |   For she could d'=on so manie shapes in sight,
4. 1.18.4 |   As euer could Cameleon colours new;
4. 1.18.5 |   So could she forge all colours, saue the trew.
4. 1.18.6 |   The other no whit better was then shee,
4. 1.18.7 |   But that such as she was, she plaine did shew;
4. 1.18.8 |   Yet otherwise much worse, if worse might bee,
4. 1.18.9 | And dayly more offensiue vnto each degree.

4. 1.19.1 | Her name was \Ate\, mother of debate,
4. 1.19.2 |   And all dissention, which doth dayly grow
4. 1.19.3 |   Amongst fraile men, that many a publike state
4. 1.19.4 |   And many a priuate oft doth ouerthrow.
4. 1.19.5 |   Her false \Duessa\ who full well did know,
4. 1.19.6 |   To be most fit to trouble noble knights,
4. 1.19.7 |   Which hunt for honor, raised from below,
4. 1.19.8 |   Out of the dwellings of the damned sprights,
4. 1.19.9 | Where she in darknes wastes her cursed daies and nights.

4. 1.20.1 | Hard by the gates of hell her dwelling is,
4. 1.20.2 |   There whereas all the plagues and harmes abound,
4. 1.20.3 |   Which punish wicked men, that walke amisse:
4. 1.20.4 |   It is a darksome delue farre vnder ground,
4. 1.20.5 |   With thornes and barren brakes enuirond round,
4. 1.20.6 |   That none the same may easily out win;
4. 1.20.7 |   Yet many waies to enter may be found,
4. 1.20.8 |   But none to issue forth when one is in:
4. 1.20.9 | For discord harder is to end then to begin.

4. 1.21.1 | And all within the riuen walls were hung
4. 1.21.2 |   With ragged monuments of times forepast,
4. 1.21.3 |   All which the sad effects of discord sung:
4. 1.21.4 |   There were rent robes, and broken scepters plast,
4. 1.21.5 |   Altars defyl'd, and holy things defast,
4. 1.21.6 |   Disshiuered speares, and shields ytorne in twaine,
4. 1.21.7 |   Great cities ransackt, and strong castles rast,
4. 1.21.8 |   Nations captiued, and huge armies slaine:
4. 1.21.9 | Of all which ruines there some relicks did remaine.

4. 1.22.1 | There was the signe of antique Babylon,
4. 1.22.2 |   Of fatall Thebes, of Rome that raigned long,
4. 1.22.3 |   Of sacred Salem, and sad Ilion,
4. 1.22.4 |   For memorie of which on high there hong
4. 1.22.5 |   The golden Apple, cause of all their wrong,
4. 1.22.6 |   For which the three faire Goddesses did striue:
4. 1.22.7 |   There also was the name of \Nimrod\ strong,
4. 1.22.8 |   Of \Alexander\, and his Princes fiue,
4. 1.22.9 | Which shar'd to them the spoiles that he had got aliue.

4. 1.23.1 | And there the relicks of the drunken fray,
4. 1.23.2 |   The which amongst the \Lapithees\ befell,
4. 1.23.3 |   And of the bloodie feast, which sent away
4. 1.23.4 |   So many \Centaures\ drunken soules to hell,
4. 1.23.5 |   That vnder great \Alcides\ furie fell:
4. 1.23.6 |   And of the dreadfull discord, which did driue
4. 1.23.7 |   The noble \Argonauts\ to outrage fell,
4. 1.23.8 |   That each of life sought others to depriue,
4. 1.23.9 | All mindlesse of the Golden fleece, which made them striue.

4. 1.24.1 | And eke of priuate persons many moe,
4. 1.24.2 |   That were too long a worke to count them all;
4. 1.24.3 |   Some of sworne friends, that did their faith forgoe;
4. 1.24.4 |   Some of borne brethren, prov'd vnnaturall;
4. 1.24.5 |   Some of deare louers, foes perpetuall:
4. 1.24.6 |   Witnesse their broken bandes there to be seene,
4. 1.24.7 |   Their girlonds rent, their bowres despoyled all;
4. 1.24.8 |   The moniments whereof there byding beene,
4. 1.24.9 | As plaine as at the first, when they were fresh and greene.

4. 1.25.1 | Such was her house within; but all without,
4. 1.25.2 |   The barren ground was full of wicked weedes,
4. 1.25.3 |   Which she her selfe had sowen all about,
4. 1.25.4 |   Now growen great, at first of little seedes,
4. 1.25.5 |   The seedes of euill wordes, and factious deedes;
4. 1.25.6 |   Which when to ripenesse due they growen arre,
4. 1.25.7 |   Bring foorth an infinite increase, that breedes
4. 1.25.8 |   Tumultuous trouble and contentious iarre,
4. 1.25.9 | The which most often end in bloudshed and in warre.

4. 1.26.1 | And those same cursed seedes doe also serue
4. 1.26.2 |   To her for bread, and yeeld her liuing food:
4. 1.26.3 |   For life it is to her, when others sterue
4. 1.26.4 |   Through mischieuous debate, and deadly feood,
4. 1.26.5 |   That she may sucke their life, and drinke their blood,
4. 1.26.6 |   With which she from her childhood had bene fed.
4. 1.26.7 |   For she at first was borne of hellish brood,
4. 1.26.8 |   And by infernall furies nourished,
4. 1.26.9 | That by her monstrous shape might easily be red.

4. 1.27.1 | Her face most fowle and filthy was to see,
4. 1.27.2 |   With squinted eyes contrarie wayes intended,
4. 1.27.3 |   And loathly mouth, vnmeete a mouth to bee,
4. 1.27.4 |   That nought but gall and venim comprehended,
4. 1.27.5 |   And wicked wordes that God and man offended:
4. 1.27.6 |   Her lying tongue was in two parts diuided,
4. 1.27.7 |   And both the parts did speake, and both contended;
4. 1.27.8 |   And as her tongue, so was her hart discided,
4. 1.27.9 | That neuer thoght one thing, but doubly stil was guided.

4. 1.28.1 | Als as she double spake, so heard she double,
4. 1.28.2 |   With matchlesse eares deformed and distort,
4. 1.28.3 |   Fild with false rumors and seditious trouble,
4. 1.28.4 |   Bred in assemblies of the vulgar sort,
4. 1.28.5 |   That still are led with euery light report.
4. 1.28.6 |   And as her eares so eke her feet were odde,
4. 1.28.7 |   And much vnlike, th'=one long, the other short,
4. 1.28.8 |   And both misplast; that when th'=one forward yode,
4. 1.28.9 | The other backe retired, and contrarie trode.

4. 1.29.1 | Likewise vnequall were her handes twaine,
4. 1.29.2 |   That one did reach, the other pusht away,
4. 1.29.3 |   That one did make, the other mard againe,
4. 1.29.4 |   And sought to bring all things vnto decay;
4. 1.29.5 |   Whereby great riches gathered manie a day,
4. 1.29.6 |   She in short space did often bring to nought,
4. 1.29.7 |   And their possessours often did dismay.
4. 1.29.8 |   For all her studie was and all her thought,
4. 1.29.9 | How she might ouerthrow the things that Concord wrought.

4. 1.30.1 | So much her malice did her might surpas,
4. 1.30.2 |   That euen th'=Almightie selfe she did maligne,
4. 1.30.3 |   Because to man so mercifull he was,
4. 1.30.4 |   And vnto all his creatures so benigne,
4. 1.30.5 |   Sith she her selfe was of his grace indigne:
4. 1.30.6 |   For all this worlds faire workmanship she tride,
4. 1.30.7 |   Vnto his last confusion to bring,
4. 1.30.8 |   And that great golden chaine quite to diuide,
4. 1.30.9 | With which it blessed Concord hath together tide.

4. 1.31.1 | Such was that hag, which with \Duessa\ roade,
4. 1.31.2 |   And seruing her in her malitious vse,
4. 1.31.3 |   To hurt good knights, was as it were her baude,
4. 1.31.4 |   To sell her borrowed beautie to abuse.
4. 1.31.5 |   For though like withered tree, that wanteth iuyce,
4. 1.31.6 |   She old and crooked were, yet now of late,
4. 1.31.7 |   As fresh and fragrant as the floure deluce
4. 1.31.8 |   She was become, by chaunge of her estate,
4. 1.31.9 | And made full goodly ioyance to her new found mate.

4. 1.32.1 | Her mate he was a iollie youthfull knight,
4. 1.32.2 |   That bore great sway in armes and chiualrie,
4. 1.32.3 |   And was indeed a man of mickle might:
4. 1.32.4 |   His name was \Blandamour\, that did descrie
4. 1.32.5 |   His fickle mind full of inconstancie.
4. 1.32.6 |   And now himselfe he fitted had right well,
4. 1.32.7 |   With two companions of like qualitie,
4. 1.32.8 |   Faithlesse \Duessa\, and false \Paridell\,
4. 1.32.9 | That whether were more false, full hard it is to tell.

4. 1.33.1 | Now when this gallant with his goodly crew,
4. 1.33.2 |   From farre espide the famous \Britomart\,
4. 1.33.3 |   Like knight aduenturous in outward vew,
4. 1.33.4 |   With his faire paragon, his conquests part,
4. 1.33.5 |   Approching nigh, eftsoones his wanton hart
4. 1.33.6 |   Was tickled with delight, and iesting sayd;
4. 1.33.7 |   Lo there Sir \Paridel\, for your desart,
4. 1.33.8 |   Good lucke presents you with yond louely mayd,
4. 1.33.9 | For pitie that ye want a fellow for your ayd.

4. 1.34.1 | By that the louely paire drew nigh to hond:
4. 1.34.2 |   Whom when as \Paridel\ more plaine beheld,
4. 1.34.3 |   Albee in heart he like affection fond,
4. 1.34.4 |   Yet mindfull how he late by one was feld,
4. 1.34.5 |   That did those armes and that same scutchion weld,
4. 1.34.6 |   He had small lust to buy his loue so deare,
4. 1.34.7 |   But answerd, Sir him wise I neuer held,
4. 1.34.8 |   That hauing once escaped perill neare,
4. 1.34.9 | Would afterwards afresh the sleeping euill reare.

4. 1.35.1 | This knight too late his manhood and his might,
4. 1.35.2 |   I did assay, that me right dearely cost,
4. 1.35.3 |   Ne list I for reuenge prouoke new fight,
4. 1.35.4 |   Ne for light Ladies loue, that soone is lost.
4. 1.35.5 |   The hot-spurre youth so scorning to be crost,
4. 1.35.6 |   Take then to you this Dame of mine (quoth hee)
4. 1.35.7 |   And I without your perill or your cost,
4. 1.35.8 |   Will chalenge yond same other for my fee:
4. 1.35.9 | So forth he fiercely prickt, that one him scarce could see.

4. 1.36.1 | The warlike Britonesse her soone addrest,
4. 1.36.2 |   And with such vncouth welcome did receaue
4. 1.36.3 |   Her fayned Paramour, her forced guest,
4. 1.36.4 |   That being forst his saddle soone to leaue,
4. 1.36.5 |   Him selfe he did of his new loue deceaue:
4. 1.36.6 |   And made him selfe thensample of his follie.
4. 1.36.7 |   Which done, she passed forth not taking leaue,
4. 1.36.8 |   And left him now as sad, as whilome iollie,
4. 1.36.9 | Well warned to beware with whom he dar'd to dallie.

4. 1.37.1 | Which when his other companie beheld,
4. 1.37.2 |   They to his succour ran with readie ayd:
4. 1.37.3 |   And finding him vnable once to weld,
4. 1.37.4 |   They reared him on horsebacke, and vpstayd,
4. 1.37.5 |   Till on his way they had him forth conuayd:
4. 1.37.6 |   And all the way with wondrous griefe of mynd,
4. 1.37.7 |   And shame, he shewd him selfe to be dismayd,
4. 1.37.8 |   More for the loue which he had left behynd,
4. 1.37.9 | Then that which he had to Sir \Paridel\ resynd.

4. 1.38.1 | Nathlesse he forth did march well as he might,
4. 1.38.2 |   And made good semblance to his companie,
4. 1.38.3 |   Dissembling his disease and euill plight;
4. 1.38.4 |   Till that ere long they chaunced to espie
4. 1.38.5 |   Two other knights, that towards them did ply
4. 1.38.6 |   With speedie course, as bent to charge them new.
4. 1.38.7 |   Whom when as \Blandamour\ approching nie,
4. 1.38.8 |   Perceiu'd to be such as they seemd in vew,
4. 1.38.9 | He was full wo, and gan his former griefe renew.

4. 1.39.1 | For th'=one of them he perfectly descride,
4. 1.39.2 |   To be Sir \Scudamour\, by that he bore
4. 1.39.3 |   The God of loue, with wings displayed wide,
4. 1.39.4 |   Whom mortally he hated euermore,
4. 1.39.5 |   Both for his worth, that all men did adore,
4. 1.39.6 |   And eke because his loue he wonne by right:
4. 1.39.7 |   Which when he thought, it grieued him full sore,
4. 1.39.8 |   That through the bruses of his former fight,
4. 1.39.9 | He now vnable was to wreake his old despight.

4. 1.40.1 | For thy he thus to \Paridel\ bespake,
4. 1.40.2 |   Faire Sir, of friendship let me now you pray,
4. 1.40.3 |   That as I late aduentured for your sake,
4. 1.40.4 |   The hurts whereof me now from battell stay,
4. 1.40.5 |   Ye will me now with like good turne repay,
4. 1.40.6 |   And iustifie my cause on yonder knight.
4. 1.40.7 |   Ah Sir (said \Paridel\) do not dismay
4. 1.40.8 |   Your selfe for this, my selfe will for you fight,
4. 1.40.9 | As ye haue done for me: the left hand rubs the right.

4. 1.41.1 | With that he put his spurres vnto his steed,
4. 1.41.2 |   With speare in rest, and toward him did fare,
4. 1.41.3 |   Like shaft out of a bow preuenting speed.
4. 1.41.4 |   But \Scudamour\ was shortly well aware
4. 1.41.5 |   Of his approch, and gan him selfe prepare
4. 1.41.6 |   Him to receiue with entertainment meete.
4. 1.41.7 |   So furiously they met, that either bare
4. 1.41.8 |   The other downe vnder their horses feete,
4. 1.41.9 | That what of them became, themselues did scarsly weete.

4. 1.42.1 | As when two billowes in the Irish sowndes,
4. 1.42.2 |   Forcibly driuen with contrarie tydes
4. 1.42.3 |   Do meete together, each abacke rebowndes
4. 1.42.4 |   With roaring rage; and dashing on all sides,
4. 1.42.5 |   That filleth all the sea with fome, diuydes
4. 1.42.6 |   The doubtfull current into diuers wayes:
4. 1.42.7 |   So fell those two in spight of both their prydes,
4. 1.42.8 |   But \Scudamour\ himselfe did soone vprayse,
4. 1.42.9 | And mounting light his foe for lying long vpbrayes.

4. 1.43.1 | Who rolled on an heape lay still in swound,
4. 1.43.2 |   All carelesse of his taunt and bitter rayle,
4. 1.43.3 |   Till that the rest him seeing lie on ground,
4. 1.43.4 |   Ran hastily, to weete what did him ayle.
4. 1.43.5 |   Where finding that the breath gan him to fayle,
4. 1.43.6 |   With busie care they stroue him to awake,
4. 1.43.7 |   And doft his helmet, and vndid his mayle:
4. 1.43.8 |   So much they did, that at the last they brake
4. 1.43.9 | His slomber, yet so mazed, that he nothing spake.

4. 1.44.1 | Which when as \Blandamour\ beheld, he sayd,
4. 1.44.2 |   False faitour \Scudamour\, that hast by slight
4. 1.44.3 |   And foule aduantage this good Knight dismayd,
4. 1.44.4 |   A Knight much better then thy selfe behight,
4. 1.44.5 |   Well falles it thee that I am not in plight
4. 1.44.6 |   This day, to wreake the dammage by thee donne:
4. 1.44.7 |   Such is thy wont, that still when any Knight
4. 1.44.8 |   Is weakned, then thou doest him ouerronne:
4. 1.44.9 | So hast thou to thy selfe false honour often wonne.

4. 1.45.1 | He little answer'd, but in manly heart
4. 1.45.2 |   His mightie indignation did forbeare,
4. 1.45.3 |   Which was not yet so secret, but some part
4. 1.45.4 |   Thereof did in his frouning face appeare:
4. 1.45.5 |   Like as a gloomie cloud, the which doth beare
4. 1.45.6 |   An hideous storme, is by the Northerne blast
4. 1.45.7 |   Quite ouerblowne, yet doth not passe so cleare,
4. 1.45.8 |   But that it all the skie doth ouercast
4. 1.45.9 | With darknes dred, and threatens all the world to wast.

4. 1.46.1 | Ah gentle knight, then false \Duessa\ sayd,
4. 1.46.2 |   Why do ye striue for Ladies loue so sore,
4. 1.46.3 |   Whose chiefe desire is loue and friendly aid
4. 1.46.4 |   Mongst gentle Knights to nourish euermore?
4. 1.46.5 |   Ne be ye wroth Sir \Scudamour\ therefore,
4. 1.46.6 |   That she your loue list loue another knight,
4. 1.46.7 |   Ne do your selfe dislike a whit the more;
4. 1.46.8 |   For Loue is free, and led with selfe delight,
4. 1.46.9 | Ne will enforced be with maisterdome or might.

4. 1.47.1 | So false \Duessa\, but vile \Ate\ thus;
4. 1.47.2 |   Both foolish knights, I can but laugh at both,
4. 1.47.3 |   That striue and storme with stirre outrageous,
4. 1.47.4 |   For her that each of you alike doth loth,
4. 1.47.5 |   And loues another, with whom now she goth
4. 1.47.6 |   In louely wise, and sleepes, and sports, and playes;
4. 1.47.7 |   Whilest both you here with many a cursed oth,
4. 1.47.8 |   Sweare she is yours, and stirre vp bloudie frayes,
4. 1.47.9 | To win a willow bough, whilest other weares the bayes.

4. 1.48.1 | Vile hag (sayd \Scudamour\) why dost thou lye?
4. 1.48.2 |   And falsly seekst a vertuous wight to shame?
4. 1.48.3 |   Fond knight (sayd she) the thing that with this eye
4. 1.48.4 |   I saw, why should I doubt to tell the same?
4. 1.48.5 |   Then tell (quoth \Blandamour\) and feare no blame,
4. 1.48.6 |   Tell what thou saw'st, maulgre who so it heares.
4. 1.48.7 |   I saw (quoth she) a stranger knight, whose name
4. 1.48.8 |   I wote not well, but in his shield he beares
4. 1.48.9 | (That well I wote) the heads of many broken speares.

4. 1.49.1 | I saw him haue your \Amoret\ at will,
4. 1.49.2 |   I saw him kisse, I saw him her embrace,
4. 1.49.3 |   I saw him sleepe with her all night his fill,
4. 1.49.4 |   All manie nights, and manie by in place,
4. 1.49.5 |   That present were to testifie the case.
4. 1.49.6 |   Which when as \Scudamour\ did heare, his heart
4. 1.49.7 |   Was thrild with inward griefe, as when in chace
4. 1.49.8 |   The Parthian strikes a stag with shiuering dart,
4. 1.49.9 | The beast astonisht stands in middest of his smart.

4. 1.50.1 | So stood Sir \Scudamour\, when this he heard,
4. 1.50.2 |   Ne word he had to speake for great dismay,
4. 1.50.3 |   But lookt on \Glauce\ grim, who woxe afeard
4. 1.50.4 |   Of outrage for the words, which she heard say,
4. 1.50.5 |   Albee vntrue she wist them by assay.
4. 1.50.6 |   But \Blandamour\, whenas he did espie
4. 1.50.7 |   His chaunge of cheere, that anguish did bewray,
4. 1.50.8 |   He woxe full blithe, as he had got thereby,
4. 1.50.9 | And gan thereat to triumph without victorie.

4. 1.51.1 | Lo recreant (sayd he) the fruitlesse end
4. 1.51.2 |   Of thy vaine boast, and spoile of loue misgotten,
4. 1.51.3 |   Whereby the name of knight-hood thou dost shend,
4. 1.51.4 |   And all true louers with dishonor blotten,
4. 1.51.5 |   All things not rooted well, will soone be rotten.
4. 1.51.6 |   Fy fy false knight (then false \Duessa\ cryde)
4. 1.51.7 |   Vnworthy life that loue with guile hast gotten,
4. 1.51.8 |   Be thou, where euer thou do go or ryde,
4. 1.51.9 | Loathed of ladies all, and of all knights defyde.

4. 1.52.1 | But \Scudamour\ for passing great despight
4. 1.52.2 |   Staid not to answer, scarcely did refraine,
4. 1.52.3 |   But that in all those knights and ladies sight,
4. 1.52.4 |   He for reuenge had guiltlesse \Glauce\ slaine:
4. 1.52.5 |   But being past, he thus began amaine;
4. 1.52.6 |   False traitour squire, false squire, of falsest knight,
4. 1.52.7 |   Why doth mine hand from thine auenge abstaine,
4. 1.52.8 |   Whose Lord hath done my loue this foule despight?
4. 1.52.9 | Why do I not it wreake, on thee now in my might?

4. 1.53.1 | Discourteous, disloyall \Britomart\,
4. 1.53.2 |   Vntrue to God, and vnto man vniust,
4. 1.53.3 |   What vengeance due can equall thy desart,
4. 1.53.4 |   That hast with shamefull spot of sinfull lust
4. 1.53.5 |   Defil'd the pledge committed to thy trust?
4. 1.53.6 |   Let vgly shame and endlesse infamy
4. 1.53.7 |   Colour thy name with foule reproaches rust.
4. 1.53.8 |   Yet thou false Squire his fault shalt deare aby,
4. 1.53.9 | And with thy punishment his penance shalt supply.

4. 1.54.1 | The aged Dame him seeing so enraged,
4. 1.54.2 |   Was dead with feare, nathlesse as neede required,
4. 1.54.3 |   His flaming furie sought to haue assuaged
4. 1.54.4 |   With sober words, that sufferance desired,
4. 1.54.5 |   Till time the tryall of her truth expyred:
4. 1.54.6 |   And euermore sought \Britomart\ to cleare.
4. 1.54.7 |   But he the more with furious rage was fyred,
4. 1.54.8 |   And thrise his hand to kill her did vpreare,
4. 1.54.9 | And thrise he drew it backe: so did at last forbeare.


4. 2. A.1 | \Blandamour winnes false Florimell,\
4. 2. A.2 |   \Paridell for her striues,\
4. 2. A.3 | \They are accorded: Agape\
4. 2. A.4 |   \doth lengthen her sonnes liues.\

4. 2. 1.1 | Firebrand of hell first tynd in Phlegeton,
4. 2. 1.2 |   By thousand furies, and from thence out throwen
4. 2. 1.3 |   Into this world, to worke confusion,
4. 2. 1.4 |   And set it all on fire by force vnknowen,
4. 2. 1.5 |   Is wicked discord, whose small sparkes once blowen
4. 2. 1.6 |   None but a God or godlike man can slake;
4. 2. 1.7 |   Such as was \Orpheus\, that when strife was growen
4. 2. 1.8 |   Amongst those famous ympes of Greece, did take
4. 2. 1.9 | His siluer Harpe in hand, and shortly friends them make.

4. 2. 2.1 | Or such as that celestiall Psalmist was,
4. 2. 2.2 |   That when the wicked feend his Lord tormented,
4. 2. 2.3 |   With heauenly notes, that did all other pas,
4. 2. 2.4 |   The outrage of his furious fit relented.
4. 2. 2.5 |   Such Musicke is wise words with time concented,
4. 2. 2.6 |   To moderate stiffe minds, disposd to striue:
4. 2. 2.7 |   Such as that prudent Romane well inuented,
4. 2. 2.8 |   What time his people into partes did riue,
4. 2. 2.9 | Them reconcyld againe, and to their homes did driue.

4. 2. 3.1 | Such vs'd wise \Glauce\ to that wrathfull knight,
4. 2. 3.2 |   To calme the tempest of his troubled thought:
4. 2. 3.3 |   Yet \Blandamour\ with termes of foule despight,
4. 2. 3.4 |   And \Paridell\ her scornd, and set at nought,
4. 2. 3.5 |   As old and crooked and not good for ought.
4. 2. 3.6 |   Both they vnwise, and warelesse of the euill,
4. 2. 3.7 |   That by themselues vnto themselues is wrought,
4. 2. 3.8 |   Through that false witch, and that foule aged dreuill,
4. 2. 3.9 | The one a feend, the other an incarnate deuill.

4. 2. 4.1 | With whom as they thus rode accompanide,
4. 2. 4.2 |   They were encountred of a lustie Knight,
4. 2. 4.3 |   That had a goodly Ladie by his side,
4. 2. 4.4 |   To whom he made great dalliance and delight.
4. 2. 4.5 |   It was to weete the bold Sir \Ferraugh\ hight,
4. 2. 4.6 |   He that from \Braggadocchio\ whilome reft
4. 2. 4.7 |   The snowy \Florimell\, whose beautie bright
4. 2. 4.8 |   Made him seeme happie for so glorious theft;
4. 2. 4.9 | Yet was it in due triall but a wandring weft.

4. 2. 5.1 | Which when as \Blandamour\, whose fancie light
4. 2. 5.2 |   Was alwaies flitting as the wauering wind,
4. 2. 5.3 |   After each beautie, that appeard in sight,
4. 2. 5.4 |   Beheld, eftsoones it prickt his wanton mind
4. 2. 5.5 |   With sting of lust, that reasons eye did blind,
4. 2. 5.6 |   That to Sir \Paridell\ these words he sent;
4. 2. 5.7 |   Sir knight why ride ye dumpish thus behind,
4. 2. 5.8 |   Since so good fortune doth to you present
4. 2. 5.9 | So fayre a spoyle, to make you ioyous meriment?

4. 2. 6.1 | But \Paridell\ that had too late a tryall
4. 2. 6.2 |   Of the bad issue of his counsell vaine,
4. 2. 6.3 |   List not to hearke, but made this faire denyall;
4. 2. 6.4 |   Last turne was mine, well proued to my paine,
4. 2. 6.5 |   This now be yours, God send you better gaine.
4. 2. 6.6 |   Whose scoffed words he taking halfe in scorne,
4. 2. 6.7 |   Fiercely forth prickt his steed as in disdaine,
4. 2. 6.8 |   Against that Knight, ere he him well could torne:
4. 2. 6.9 | By meanes whereof he hath him lightly ouerborne.

4. 2. 7.1 | Who with the sudden stroke astonisht sore,
4. 2. 7.2 |   Vpon the ground a while in slomber lay;
4. 2. 7.3 |   The whiles his loue away the other bore,
4. 2. 7.4 |   And shewing her, did \Paridell\ vpbray;
4. 2. 7.5 |   Lo sluggish Knight the victors happie pray:
4. 2. 7.6 |   So fortune friends the bold: whom \Paridell\
4. 2. 7.7 |   Seeing so faire indeede, as he did say,
4. 2. 7.8 |   His hart with secret enuie gan to swell,
4. 2. 7.9 | And inly grudge at him, that he had sped so well.

4. 2. 8.1 | Nathlesse proud man himselfe the other deemed,
4. 2. 8.2 |   Hauing so peerelesse paragon ygot:
4. 2. 8.3 |   For sure the fayrest \Florimell\ him seemed,
4. 2. 8.4 |   To him was fallen for his happie lot,
4. 2. 8.5 |   Whose like aliue on earth he weened not:
4. 2. 8.6 |   Therefore he her did court, did serue, did wooe,
4. 2. 8.7 |   With humblest suit that he imagine mot,
4. 2. 8.8 |   And all things did deuise, and all things dooe,
4. 2. 8.9 | That might her loue prepare, and liking win theretoo.

4. 2. 9.1 | She in regard thereof him recompenst
4. 2. 9.2 |   With golden words, and goodly countenance,
4. 2. 9.3 |   And such fond fauours sparingly dispenst:
4. 2. 9.4 |   Sometimes him blessing with a light eye-glance,
4. 2. 9.5 |   And coy lookes tempring with loose dalliance;
4. 2. 9.6 |   Sometimes estranging him in sterner wise,
4. 2. 9.7 |   That hauing cast him in a foolish trance,
4. 2. 9.8 |   He seemed brought to bed in Paradise,
4. 2. 9.9 | And prou'd himselfe most foole, in what he seem'd most wise.

4. 2.10.1 | So great a mistresse of her art she was,
4. 2.10.2 |   And perfectly practiz'd in womans craft,
4. 2.10.3 |   That though therein himselfe he thought to pas,
4. 2.10.4 |   And by his false allurements wylie draft
4. 2.10.5 |   Had thousand women of their loue beraft,
4. 2.10.6 |   Yet now he was surpriz'd: for that false spright,
4. 2.10.7 |   Which that same witch had in this forme engraft,
4. 2.10.8 |   Was so expert in euery subtile slight,
4. 2.10.9 | That it could ouerreach the wisest earthly wight.

4. 2.11.1 | Yet he to her did dayly seruice more,
4. 2.11.2 |   And dayly more deceiued was thereby;
4. 2.11.3 |   Yet \Paridell\ him enuied therefore,
4. 2.11.4 |   As seeming plast in sole felicity:
4. 2.11.5 |   So blind is lust, false colours to descry.
4. 2.11.6 |   But \Ate\ soone discouering his desire,
4. 2.11.7 |   And finding now fit opportunity
4. 2.11.8 |   To stirre vp strife, twixt loue and spight and ire,
4. 2.11.9 | Did priuily put coles vnto his secret fire.

4. 2.12.1 | By sundry meanes thereto she prickt him forth,
4. 2.12.2 |   Now with remembrance of those spightfull speaches,
4. 2.12.3 |   Now with opinion of his owne more worth,
4. 2.12.4 |   Now with recounting of like former breaches
4. 2.12.5 |   Made in their friendship, as that Hag him teaches:
4. 2.12.6 |   And euer when his passion is allayd,
4. 2.12.7 |   She it reuiues and new occasion reaches:
4. 2.12.8 |   That on a time as they together way'd,
4. 2.12.9 | He made him open chalenge, and thus boldly sayd.

4. 2.13.1 | Too boastfull \Blandamour\, too long I beare
4. 2.13.2 |   The open wrongs, thou doest me day by day;
4. 2.13.3 |   Well know'st thou, when we friendship first did sweare,
4. 2.13.4 |   The couenant was, that euery spoyle or pray
4. 2.13.5 |   Should equally be shard betwixt vs tway:
4. 2.13.6 |   Where is my part then of this Ladie bright,
4. 2.13.7 |   Whom to thy selfe thou takest quite away?
4. 2.13.8 |   Render therefore therein to me my right,
4. 2.13.9 | Or answere for thy wrong, as shall fall out in fight.

4. 2.14.1 | Exceeding wroth thereat was \Blandamour\,
4. 2.14.2 |   And gan this bitter answere to him make;
4. 2.14.3 |   Too foolish \Paridell\, that fayrest floure
4. 2.14.4 |   Wouldst gather faine, and yet no paines wouldst take:
4. 2.14.5 |   But not so easie will I her forsake;
4. 2.14.6 |   This hand her wonne, this hand shall her defend.
4. 2.14.7 |   With that they gan their shiuering speares to shake,
4. 2.14.8 |   And deadly points at eithers breast to bend,
4. 2.14.9 | Forgetfull each to haue bene euer others frend.

4. 2.15.1 | Their firie Steedes with so vntamed forse
4. 2.15.2 |   Did beare them both to fell auenges end,
4. 2.15.3 |   That both their speares with pitilesse remorse,
4. 2.15.4 |   Through shield and mayle, and haberieon did wend,
4. 2.15.5 |   And in their flesh a griesly passage rend,
4. 2.15.6 |   That with the furie of their owne affret,
4. 2.15.7 |   Each other horse and man to ground did send;
4. 2.15.8 |   Where lying still a while, both did forget
4. 2.15.9 | The perilous present stownd, in which their liues were set.

4. 2.16.1 | As when two warlike Brigandines at sea,
4. 2.16.2 |   With murdrous weapons arm'd to cruell fight,
4. 2.16.3 |   Doe meete together on the watry lea,
4. 2.16.4 |   They stemme ech other with so fell despight,
4. 2.16.5 |   That with the shocke of their owne heedlesse might,
4. 2.16.6 |   Their wooden ribs are shaken nigh a sonder;
4. 2.16.7 |   They which from shore behold the dreadfull sight
4. 2.16.8 |   Of flashing fire, and heare the ordenance thonder,
4. 2.16.9 | Do greatly stand amaz'd at such vnwonted wonder.

4. 2.17.1 | At length they both vpstarted in amaze,
4. 2.17.2 |   As men awaked rashly out of dreme;
4. 2.17.3 |   And round about themselues a while did gaze,
4. 2.17.4 |   Till seeing her, that \Florimell\ did seme,
4. 2.17.5 |   In doubt to whom she victorie should deeme,
4. 2.17.6 |   Therewith their dulled sprights they edgd anew,
4. 2.17.7 |   And drawing both their swords with rage extreme,
4. 2.17.8 |   Like two mad mastiffes each on other flew,
4. 2.17.9 | And shields did share, and mailes did rash, and helmes did hew.

4. 2.18.1 | So furiously each other did assayle,
4. 2.18.2 |   As if their soules they would attonce haue rent
4. 2.18.3 |   Out of their brests, that streames of bloud did rayle
4. 2.18.4 |   Adowne, as if their springs of life were spent;
4. 2.18.5 |   That all the ground with purple bloud was sprent,
4. 2.18.6 |   And all their armours staynd with bloudie gore,
4. 2.18.7 |   Yet scarcely once to breath would they relent,
4. 2.18.8 |   So mortall was their malice and so sore,
4. 2.18.9 | Become of fayned friendship which they vow'd afore.

4. 2.19.1 | And that which is for Ladies most besitting,
4. 2.19.2 |   To stint all strife, and foster friendly peace,
4. 2.19.3 |   Was from those Dames so farre and so vnfitting,
4. 2.19.4 |   As that in stead of praying them surcease,
4. 2.19.5 |   They did much more their cruelty encrease;
4. 2.19.6 |   Bidding them fight for honour of their loue,
4. 2.19.7 |   And rather die then Ladies cause release.
4. 2.19.8 |   With which vaine termes so much they did them moue,
4. 2.19.9 | That both resolu'd the last extremities to proue.

4. 2.20.1 | There they I weene would fight vntill this day,
4. 2.20.2 |   Had not a Squire, euen he the Squire of Dames,
4. 2.20.3 |   By great aduenture trauelled that way;
4. 2.20.4 |   Who seeing both bent to so bloudy games,
4. 2.20.5 |   And both of old well knowing by their names,
4. 2.20.6 |   Drew nigh, to weete the cause of their debate:
4. 2.20.7 |   And first laide on those Ladies thousand blames,
4. 2.20.8 |   That did not seeke t'=appease their deadly hate,
4. 2.20.9 | But gazed on their harmes, not pittying their estate.

4. 2.21.1 | And then those Knights he humbly did beseech,
4. 2.21.2 |   To stay their hands, till he a while had spoken:
4. 2.21.3 |   Who lookt a little vp at that his speech,
4. 2.21.4 |   Yet would not let their battell so be broken,
4. 2.21.5 |   Both greedie fiers on other to be wroken.
4. 2.21.6 |   Yet he to them so earnestly did call,
4. 2.21.7 |   And them coniur'd by some well knowen token,
4. 2.21.8 |   That they at last their wrothfull hands let fall,
4. 2.21.9 | Content to heare him speake, and glad to rest withall.

4. 2.22.1 | First he desir'd their cause of strife to see:
4. 2.22.2 |   They said, it was for loue of \Florimell\.
4. 2.22.3 |   Ah gentle knights (quoth he) how may that bee,
4. 2.22.4 |   And she so farre astray, as none can tell.
4. 2.22.5 |   Fond Squire, full angry then sayd \Paridell\,
4. 2.22.6 |   Seest not the Ladie there before thy face?
4. 2.22.7 |   He looked backe, and her aduizing well,
4. 2.22.8 |   Weend as he said, by that her outward grace,
4. 2.22.9 | That fayrest \Florimell\ was present there in place.

4. 2.23.1 | Glad man was he to see that ioyous sight,
4. 2.23.2 |   For none aliue but ioy'd in \Florimell\,
4. 2.23.3 |   And lowly to her lowting thus behight;
4. 2.23.4 |   Fayrest of faire, that fairenesse doest excell,
4. 2.23.5 |   This happie day I haue to greete you well,
4. 2.23.6 |   In which you safe I see, whom thousand late
4. 2.23.7 |   Misdoubted lost through mischiefe that befell;
4. 2.23.8 |   Long may you liue in health and happie state.
4. 2.23.9 | She litle answer'd him, but lightly did aggrate.

4. 2.24.1 | Then turning to those Knights, he gan a new;
4. 2.24.2 |   And you Sir \Blandamour\ and \Paridell\,
4. 2.24.3 |   That for this Ladie present in your vew,
4. 2.24.4 |   Haue rays'd this cruell warre and outrage fell,
4. 2.24.5 |   Certes me seemes bene not aduised well,
4. 2.24.6 |   But rather ought in friendship for her sake
4. 2.24.7 |   To ioyne your force, their forces to repell,
4. 2.24.8 |   That seeke perforce her from you both to take,
4. 2.24.9 | And of your gotten spoyle their owne triumph to make.

4. 2.25.1 | Thereat Sir \Blandamour\ with countenance sterne,
4. 2.25.2 |   All full of wrath, thus fiercely him bespake;
4. 2.25.3 |   A read thou Squire, that I the man may learne,
4. 2.25.4 |   That dare fro me thinke \Florimell\ to take.
4. 2.25.5 |   Not one (quoth he) but many doe partake
4. 2.25.6 |   Herein, as thus. It lately so befell,
4. 2.25.7 |   That \Satyran\ a girdle did vptake,
4. 2.25.8 |   Well knowne to appertaine to \Florimell\,
4. 2.25.9 | Which for her sake he wore, as him beseemed well.

4. 2.26.1 | But when as she her selfe was lost and gone,
4. 2.26.2 |   Full many knights, that loued her like deare,
4. 2.26.3 |   Thereat did greatly grudge, that he alone
4. 2.26.4 |   That lost faire Ladies ornament should weare,
4. 2.26.5 |   And gan therefore close spight to him to beare:
4. 2.26.6 |   Which he to shun, and stop vile enuies sting,
4. 2.26.7 |   Hath lately caus'd to be proclaim'd each where
4. 2.26.8 |   A solemne feast, with publike turneying,
4. 2.26.9 | To which all knights with them their Ladies are to bring.

4. 2.27.1 | And of them all she that is fayrest found,
4. 2.27.2 |   Shall haue that golden girdle for reward,
4. 2.27.3 |   And of those Knights who is most stout on ground,
4. 2.27.4 |   Shall to that fairest Ladie be prefard.
4. 2.27.5 |   Since therefore she her selfe is now your ward,
4. 2.27.6 |   To you that ornament of hers pertaines,
4. 2.27.7 |   Against all those, that chalenge it to gard,
4. 2.27.8 |   And saue her honour with your ventrous paines;
4. 2.27.9 | That shall you win more glory, then ye here find gaines.

4. 2.28.1 | When they the reason of his words had hard,
4. 2.28.2 |   They gan abate the rancour of their rage,
4. 2.28.3 |   And with their honours and their loues regard,
4. 2.28.4 |   The furious flames of malice to asswage.
4. 2.28.5 |   Tho each to other did his faith engage,
4. 2.28.6 |   Like faithfull friends thenceforth to ioyne in one
4. 2.28.7 |   With all their force, and battell strong to wage
4. 2.28.8 |   Gainst all those knights, as their professed fone,
4. 2.28.9 | That chaleng'd ought in \Florimell\, saue they alone.

4. 2.29.1 | So well accorded forth they rode together
4. 2.29.2 |   In friendly sort, that lasted but a while;
4. 2.29.3 |   And of all old dislikes they made faire weather,
4. 2.29.4 |   Yet all was forg'd and spred with golden foyle,
4. 2.29.5 |   That vnder it hidde hate and hollow guyle.
4. 2.29.6 |   Ne certes can that friendship long endure,
4. 2.29.7 |   How euer gay and goodly be the style,
4. 2.29.8 |   That doth ill cause or euill end enure:
4. 2.29.9 | For vertue is the band, that bindeth harts most sure.

4. 2.30.1 | Thus as they marched all in close disguise
4. 2.30.2 |   Of fayned loue, they chaunst to ouertake
4. 2.30.3 |   Two knights, that lincked rode in louely wise,
4. 2.30.4 |   As if they secret counsels did partake;
4. 2.30.5 |   And each not farre behinde him had his make,
4. 2.30.6 |   To weete, two Ladies of most goodly hew,
4. 2.30.7 |   That twixt themselues did gentle purpose make,
4. 2.30.8 |   Vnmindfull both of that discordfull crew,
4. 2.30.9 | The which with speedie pace did after them pursew.

4. 2.31.1 | Who as they now approched nigh at hand,
4. 2.31.2 |   Deeming them doughtie as they did appeare,
4. 2.31.3 |   They sent that Squire afore, to vnderstand,
4. 2.31.4 |   What mote they be: who viewing them more neare
4. 2.31.5 |   Returned readie newes, that those same weare
4. 2.31.6 |   Two of the prowest Knights in Faery lond;
4. 2.31.7 |   And those two Ladies their two louers deare,
4. 2.31.8 |   Couragious \Cambell\, and stout \Triamond\,
4. 2.31.9 | With \Canacee\ and \Cambine\ linckt in louely bond.

4. 2.32.1 | Whylome as antique stories tellen vs,
4. 2.32.2 |   Those two were foes the fellonest on ground,
4. 2.32.3 |   And battell made the dreddest daungerous,
4. 2.32.4 |   That euer shrilling trumpet did resound;
4. 2.32.5 |   Though now their acts be no where to be found,
4. 2.32.6 |   As that renowmed Poet them compyled,
4. 2.32.7 |   With warlike numbers and Heroicke sound,
4. 2.32.8 |   Dan \Chaucer\, well of English vndefyled,
4. 2.32.9 | On Fames eternall beadroll worthie to be fyled.

4. 2.33.1 | But wicked Time that all good thoughts doth waste,
4. 2.33.2 |   And workes of noblest wits to nought out weare,
4. 2.33.3 |   That famous moniment hath quite defaste,
4. 2.33.4 |   And robd the world of threasure endlesse deare,
4. 2.33.5 |   The which mote haue enriched all vs heare.
4. 2.33.6 |   O cursed Eld the cankerworme of writs,
4. 2.33.7 |   How may these rimes, so rude as doth appeare,
4. 2.33.8 |   Hope to endure, sith workes of heauenly wits
4. 2.33.9 | Are quite deuourd, and brought to nought by little bits?

4. 2.34.1 | Then pardon, O most sacred happie spirit,
4. 2.34.2 |   That I thy labours lost may thus reuiue,
4. 2.34.3 |   And steale from thee the meede of thy due merit,
4. 2.34.4 |   That none durst euer whilest thou wast aliue,
4. 2.34.5 |   And being dead in vaine yet many striue:
4. 2.34.6 |   Ne dare I like, but through infusion sweete
4. 2.34.7 |   Of thine owne spirit, which doth in me surviue,
4. 2.34.8 |   I follow here the footing of thy feete,
4. 2.34.9 | That with thy meaning so I may the rather meete.

4. 2.35.1 | \Cambelloes\ sister was fayre \Canacee\,
4. 2.35.2 |   That was the learnedst Ladie in her dayes,
4. 2.35.3 |   Well seene in euerie science that mote bee,
4. 2.35.4 |   And euery secret worke of natures wayes,
4. 2.35.5 |   In wittie riddles, and in wise soothsayes,
4. 2.35.6 |   In power of herbes, and tunes of beasts and burds;
4. 2.35.7 |   And, that augmented all her other prayse,
4. 2.35.8 |   She modest was in all her deedes and words,
4. 2.35.9 | And wondrous chast of life, yet lou'd of Knights and Lords.

4. 2.36.1 | Full many Lords, and many Knights her loued,
4. 2.36.2 |   Yet she to none of them her liking lent,
4. 2.36.3 |   Ne euer was with fond affection moued,
4. 2.36.4 |   But rul'd her thoughts with goodly gouernement,
4. 2.36.5 |   For dread of blame and honours blemishment;
4. 2.36.6 |   And eke vnto her lookes a law she made,
4. 2.36.7 |   That none of them once out of order went,
4. 2.36.8 |   But like to warie Centonels well stayd,
4. 2.36.9 | Still watcht on euery side, of secret foes affrayd.

4. 2.37.1 | So much the more as she refusd to loue,
4. 2.37.2 |   So much the more she loued was and sought,
4. 2.37.3 |   That oftentimes vnquiet strife did moue
4. 2.37.4 |   Amongst her louers, and great quarrels wrought,
4. 2.37.5 |   That oft for her in bloudie armes they fought.
4. 2.37.6 |   Which whenas \Cambell\, that was stout and wise,
4. 2.37.7 |   Perceiu'd would breede great mischiefe, he bethought
4. 2.37.8 |   How to preuent the perill that mote rise,
4. 2.37.9 | And turne both him and her to honour in this wise.

4. 2.38.1 | One day, when all that troupe of warlike wooers
4. 2.38.2 |   Assembled were, to weet whose she should bee,
4. 2.38.3 |   All mightie men and dreadfull derring dooers,
4. 2.38.4 |   (The harder it to make them well agree)
4. 2.38.5 |   Amongst them all this end he did decree;
4. 2.38.6 |   That of them all, which loue to her did make,
4. 2.38.7 |   They by consent should chose the stoutest three,
4. 2.38.8 |   That with himselfe should combat for her sake,
4. 2.38.9 | And of them all the victour should his sister take.

4. 2.39.1 | Bold was the chalenge, as himselfe was bold,
4. 2.39.2 |   And courage full of haughtie hardiment,
4. 2.39.3 |   Approued oft in perils manifold,
4. 2.39.4 |   Which he atchieu'd to his great ornament:
4. 2.39.5 |   But yet his sisters skill vnto him lent
4. 2.39.6 |   Most confidence and hope of happie speed,
4. 2.39.7 |   Conceiued by a ring, which she him sent,
4. 2.39.8 |   That mongst the manie vertues, which we reed,
4. 2.39.9 | Had power to staunch al wounds, that mortally did bleed.

4. 2.40.1 | Well was that rings great vertue knowen to all,
4. 2.40.2 |   That dread thereof, and his redoubted might
4. 2.40.3 |   Did all that youthly rout so much appall,
4. 2.40.4 |   That none of them durst vndertake the fight;
4. 2.40.5 |   More wise they weend to make of loue delight,
4. 2.40.6 |   Then life to hazard for faire Ladies looke,
4. 2.40.7 |   And yet vncertaine by such outward sight,
4. 2.40.8 |   Though for her sake they all that perill tooke,
4. 2.40.9 | Whether she would them loue, or in her liking brooke.

4. 2.41.1 | Amongst those knights there were three brethren bold,
4. 2.41.2 |   Three bolder brethren neuer were yborne,
4. 2.41.3 |   Borne of one mother in one happie mold,
4. 2.41.4 |   Borne at one burden in one happie morne,
4. 2.41.5 |   Thrise happie mother, and thrise happie morne,
4. 2.41.6 |   That bore three such, three such not to be fond;
4. 2.41.7 |   Her name was \Agape\ whose children werne
4. 2.41.8 |   All three as one, the first hight \Priamond\,
4. 2.41.9 | The second \Dyamond\, the youngest \Triamond\.

4. 2.42.1 | Stout \Priamond\, but not so strong to strike,
4. 2.42.2 |   Strong \Diamond\, but not so stout a knight,
4. 2.42.3 |   But \Triamond\ was stout and strong alike:
4. 2.42.4 |   On horsebacke vsed \Triamond\ to fight,
4. 2.42.5 |   And \Priamond\ on foote had more delight,
4. 2.42.6 |   But horse and foote knew \Diamond\ to wield:
4. 2.42.7 |   With curtaxe vsed \Diamond\ to smite,
4. 2.42.8 |   And \Triamond\ to handle speare and shield,
4. 2.42.9 | But speare and curtaxe both vsd \Priamond\ in field.

4. 2.43.1 | These three did loue each other dearely well,
4. 2.43.2 |   And with so firme affection were allyde,
4. 2.43.3 |   As if but one soule in them all did dwell,
4. 2.43.4 |   Which did her powre into three parts diuyde;
4. 2.43.5 |   Like three faire branches budding farre and wide,
4. 2.43.6 |   That from one roote deriu'd their vitall sap:
4. 2.43.7 |   And like that roote that doth her life diuide,
4. 2.43.8 |   Their mother was, and had full blessed hap,
4. 2.43.9 | These three so noble babes to bring forth at one clap.

4. 2.44.1 | Their mother was a Fay, and had the skill
4. 2.44.2 |   Of secret things, and all the powres of nature,
4. 2.44.3 |   Which she by art could vse vnto her will,
4. 2.44.4 |   And to her seruice bind each liuing creature,
4. 2.44.5 |   Through secret vnderstanding of their feature.
4. 2.44.6 |   Thereto she was right faire, when so her face
4. 2.44.7 |   She list discouer, and of goodly stature;
4. 2.44.8 |   But she as Fayes are wont, in priuie place
4. 2.44.9 | Did spend her dayes, and lov'd in forests wyld to space.

4. 2.45.1 | There on a day a noble youthly knight
4. 2.45.2 |   Seeking aduentures in the saluage wood,
4. 2.45.3 |   Did by great fortune get of her the sight,
4. 2.45.4 |   As she sate carelesse by a cristall flood,
4. 2.45.5 |   Combing her golden lockes, as seemd her good:
4. 2.45.6 |   And vnawares vpon her laying hold,
4. 2.45.7 |   That stroue in vaine him long to haue withstood,
4. 2.45.8 |   Oppressed her, and there (as it is told)
4. 2.45.9 | Got these three louely babes, that prov'd three champions bold.

4. 2.46.1 | Which she with her long fostred in that wood,
4. 2.46.2 |   Till that to ripenesse of mans state they grew:
4. 2.46.3 |   Then shewing forth signes of their fathers blood,
4. 2.46.4 |   They loued armes, and knighthood did ensew,
4. 2.46.5 |   Seeking aduentures, where they anie knew.
4. 2.46.6 |   Which when their mother saw, she gan to dout
4. 2.46.7 |   Their safetie, least by searching daungers new,
4. 2.46.8 |   And rash prouoking perils all about,
4. 2.46.9 | Their days mote be abridged through their corage stout.

4. 2.47.1 | Therefore desirous th'=end of all their dayes
4. 2.47.2 |   To know, and them t'=enlarge with long extent,
4. 2.47.3 |   By wondrous skill, and many hidden wayes,
4. 2.47.4 |   To the three fatall sisters house she went.
4. 2.47.5 |   Farre vnder ground from tract of liuing went,
4. 2.47.6 |   Downe in the bottome of the deepe \Abysse\,
4. 2.47.7 |   Where \Demogorgon\ in dull darknesse pent,
4. 2.47.8 |   Farre from the view of Gods and heauens blis,
4. 2.47.9 | The hideous \Chaos\ keepes, their dreadfull dwelling is.

4. 2.48.1 | There she them found, all sitting round about
4. 2.48.2 |   The direfull distaffe standing in the mid,
4. 2.48.3 |   And with vnwearied fingers drawing out
4. 2.48.4 |   The lines of life, from liuing knowledge hid.
4. 2.48.5 |   Sad \Clotho\ held the rocke, the whiles the thrid
4. 2.48.6 |   By griesly \Lachesis\ was spun with paine,
4. 2.48.7 |   That cruell \Atropos\ eftsoones vndid,
4. 2.48.8 |   With cursed knife cutting the twist in twaine:
4. 2.48.9 | Most wretched men, whose dayes depend on thrids so vaine.

4. 2.49.1 | She them saluting, there by them sate still,
4. 2.49.2 |   Beholding how the thrids of life they span:
4. 2.49.3 |   And when at last she had beheld her fill,
4. 2.49.4 |   Trembling in heart, and looking pale and wan,
4. 2.49.5 |   Her cause of comming she to tell began.
4. 2.49.6 |   To whom fierce \Atropos\, Bold Fay, that durst
4. 2.49.7 |   Come see the secret of the life of man,
4. 2.49.8 |   Well worthie thou to be of \Ioue\ accurst,
4. 2.49.9 | And eke thy childrens thrids to be a sunder burst.

4. 2.50.1 | Whereat she sore affrayd, yet her besought
4. 2.50.2 |   To graunt her boone, and rigour to abate,
4. 2.50.3 |   That she might see her childrens thrids forth brought,
4. 2.50.4 |   And know the measure of their vtmost date,
4. 2.50.5 |   To them ordained by eternall fate.
4. 2.50.6 |   Which \Clotho\ graunting, shewed her the same:
4. 2.50.7 |   That when she saw, it did her much amate,
4. 2.50.8 |   To see their thrids so thin, as spiders frame,
4. 2.50.9 | And eke so short, that seemd their ends out shortly came.

4. 2.51.1 | She then began them humbly to intreate,
4. 2.51.2 |   To draw them longer out, and better twine,
4. 2.51.3 |   That so their liues might be prolonged late.
4. 2.51.4 |   But \Lachesis\ thereat gan to repine,
4. 2.51.5 |   And sayd, Fond dame that deem'st of things diuine
4. 2.51.6 |   As of humane, that they may altred bee,
4. 2.51.7 |   And chaung'd at pleasure for those impes of thine.
4. 2.51.8 |   Not so; for what the Fates do once decree,
4. 2.51.9 | Not all the gods can chaunge, nor \Ioue\ him self can free.

4. 2.52.1 | Then since (quoth she) the terme of each mans life
4. 2.52.2 |   For nought may lessened nor enlarged bee,
4. 2.52.3 |   Graunt this, that when ye shred with fatall knife
4. 2.52.4 |   His line, which is the eldest of the three,
4. 2.52.5 |   Which is of them the shortest, as I see,
4. 2.52.6 |   Eftsoones his life may passe into the next;
4. 2.52.7 |   And when the next shall likewise ended bee,
4. 2.52.8 |   That both their liues may likewise be annext
4. 2.52.9 | Vnto the third, that his may so be trebly wext.

4. 2.53.1 | They graunted it; and then that carefull Fay
4. 2.53.2 |   Departed thence with full contended mynd;
4. 2.53.3 |   And comming home, in warlike fresh aray
4. 2.53.4 |   Them found all three according to their kynd:
4. 2.53.5 |   But vnto them what destinie was assynd,
4. 2.53.6 |   Or how their liues were eekt, she did not tell;
4. 2.53.7 |   But euermore, when she fit time could fynd,
4. 2.53.8 |   She warned them to tend their safeties well,
4. 2.53.9 | And loue each other deare, what euer them befell.

4. 2.54.1 | So did they surely during all their dayes,
4. 2.54.2 |   And neuer discord did amongst them fall;
4. 2.54.3 |   Which much augmented all their other praise.
4. 2.54.4 |   And now t'=increase affection naturall,
4. 2.54.5 |   In loue of \Canacee\ they ioyned all:
4. 2.54.6 |   Vpon which ground this same great battell grew,
4. 2.54.7 |   Great matter growing of beginning small;
4. 2.54.8 |   The which for length I will not here pursew,
4. 2.54.9 | But rather will reserue it for a Canto new.


4. 3. A.1 | \The battell twixt three brethren with\
4. 3. A.2 |   \Cambell for Canacee:\
4. 3. A.3 | \Cambina with true friendships bond\
4. 3. A.4 |   \doth their long strife agree.\

4. 3. 1.1 | O why doe wretched men so much desire,
4. 3. 1.2 |   To draw their dayes vnto the vtmost date,
4. 3. 1.3 |   And doe not rather wish them soone expire,
4. 3. 1.4 |   Knowing the miserie of their estate,
4. 3. 1.5 |   And thousand perills which them still awate,
4. 3. 1.6 |   Tossing them like a boate amid the mayne,
4. 3. 1.7 |   That euery houre they knocke at deathes gate?
4. 3. 1.8 |   And he that happie seemes and least in payne,
4. 3. 1.9 | Yet is as nigh his end, as he that most doth playne.

4. 3. 2.1 | Therefore this Fay I hold but fond and vaine,
4. 3. 2.2 |   The which in seeking for her children three
4. 3. 2.3 |   Long life, thereby did more prolong their paine.
4. 3. 2.4 |   Yet whilest they liued none did euer see
4. 3. 2.5 |   More happie creatures, then they seem'd to bee,
4. 3. 2.6 |   Nor more ennobled for their courtesie,
4. 3. 2.7 |   That made them dearely lou'd of each degree;
4. 3. 2.8 |   Ne more renowmed for their cheualrie,
4. 3. 2.9 | That made them dreaded much of all men farre and nie.

4. 3. 3.1 | These three that hardie chalenge tooke in hand,
4. 3. 3.2 |   For \Canacee\ with \Cambell\ for to fight:
4. 3. 3.3 |   The day was set, that all might vnderstand,
4. 3. 3.4 |   And pledges pawnd the same to keepe a right,
4. 3. 3.5 |   That day, the dreddest day that liuing wight
4. 3. 3.6 |   Did euer see vpon this world to shine,
4. 3. 3.7 |   So soone as heauens window shewed light,
4. 3. 3.8 |   These warlike Champions all in armour shine,
4. 3. 3.9 | Assembled were in field, the chalenge to define.

4. 3. 4.1 | The field with listes was all about enclos'd,
4. 3. 4.2 |   To barre the prease of people farre away;
4. 3. 4.3 |   And at th'=one side sixe iudges were dispos'd,
4. 3. 4.4 |   To view and deeme the deedes of armes that day;
4. 3. 4.5 |   And on the other side in fresh aray,
4. 3. 4.6 |   Fayre \Canacee\ vpon a stately stage
4. 3. 4.7 |   Was set, to see the fortune of that fray,
4. 3. 4.8 |   And to be seene, as his most worthie wage,
4. 3. 4.9 | That could her purchase with his liues aduentur'd gage.

4. 3. 5.1 | Then entred \Cambell\ first into the list,
4. 3. 5.2 |   With stately steps, and fearelesse countenance,
4. 3. 5.3 |   As if the conquest his he surely wist.
4. 3. 5.4 |   Soone after did the brethren three aduance,
4. 3. 5.5 |   In braue aray and goodly amenance,
4. 3. 5.6 |   With scutchins gilt and banners broad displayd:
4. 3. 5.7 |   And marching thrise in warlike ordinance,
4. 3. 5.8 |   Thrise lowted lowly to the noble Mayd,
4. 3. 5.9 | The whiles shril trompets and loud clarions sweetly playd.

4. 3. 6.1 | Which doen the doughty chalenger came forth,
4. 3. 6.2 |   All arm'd to point his chalenge to abet:
4. 3. 6.3 |   Gainst whom Sir \Priamond\ with equall worth,
4. 3. 6.4 |   And equall armes himselfe did forward set.
4. 3. 6.5 |   A trompet blew; they both together met,
4. 3. 6.6 |   With dreadfull force, and furious intent,
4. 3. 6.7 |   Carelesse of perill in their fiers affret,
4. 3. 6.8 |   As if that life to losse they had forelent,
4. 3. 6.9 | And cared not to spare, that should be shortly spent.

4. 3. 7.1 | Right practicke was Sir \Priamond\ in fight,
4. 3. 7.2 |   And throughly skild in vse of shield and speare;
4. 3. 7.3 |   Ne lesse approued was \Cambelloes\ might,
4. 3. 7.4 |   Ne lesse his skill in weapons did appeare,
4. 3. 7.5 |   That hard it was to weene which harder were.
4. 3. 7.6 |   Full many mightie strokes on either side
4. 3. 7.7 |   Were sent, that seemed death in them to beare,
4. 3. 7.8 |   But they were both so watchfull and well eyde,
4. 3. 7.9 | That they auoyded were, and vainely by did slyde.

4. 3. 8.1 | Yet one of many was so strongly bent
4. 3. 8.2 |   By \Priamond\, that with vnluckie glaunce
4. 3. 8.3 |   Through \Cambels\ shoulder it vnwarely went,
4. 3. 8.4 |   That forced him his shield to disaduaunce:
4. 3. 8.5 |   Much was he grieued with that gracelesse chaunce,
4. 3. 8.6 |   Yet from the wound no drop of bloud there fell,
4. 3. 8.7 |   But wondrous paine, that did the more enhaunce
4. 3. 8.8 |   His haughtie courage to aduengement fell:
4. 3. 8.9 | Smart daunts not mighty harts, but makes them more to swell.

4. 3. 9.1 | With that his poynant speare he fierce auentred,
4. 3. 9.2 |   With doubled force close vnderneath his shield,
4. 3. 9.3 |   That through the mayles into his thigh it entred,
4. 3. 9.4 |   And there arresting, readie way did yield,
4. 3. 9.5 |   For bloud to gush forth on the grassie field;
4. 3. 9.6 |   That he for paine himselfe n'ote right vpreare,
4. 3. 9.7 |   But too and fro in great amazement reel'd,
4. 3. 9.8 |   Like an old Oke whose pith and sap is seare,
4. 3. 9.9 | At puffe of euery storme doth stagger here and theare.

4. 3.10.1 | Whom so dismayd when \Cambell\ had espide,
4. 3.10.2 |   Againe he droue at him with double might,
4. 3.10.3 |   That nought mote stay the steele, till in his side
4. 3.10.4 |   The mortall point most cruelly empight:
4. 3.10.5 |   Where fast infixed, whilest he sought by slight
4. 3.10.6 |   It forth to wrest, the staffe a sunder brake,
4. 3.10.7 |   And left the head behind: with which despight
4. 3.10.8 |   He all enrag'd, his shiuering speare did shake,
4. 3.10.9 | And charging him a fresh thus felly him bespake.

4. 3.11.1 | Lo faitour there thy meede vnto thee take,
4. 3.11.2 |   The meede of thy mischalenge and abet:
4. 3.11.3 |   Not for thine owne, but for thy sisters sake,
4. 3.11.4 |   Haue I thus long thy life vnto thee let:
4. 3.11.5 |   But to forbeare doth not forgiue the det.
4. 3.11.6 |   The wicked weapon heard his wrathfull vow,
4. 3.11.7 |   And passing forth with furious affret,
4. 3.11.8 |   Pierst through his beuer quite into his brow,
4. 3.11.9 | That with the force it backward forced him to bow.

4. 3.12.1 | Therewith a sunder in the midst it brast,
4. 3.12.2 |   And in his hand nought but the troncheon left,
4. 3.12.3 |   The other halfe behind yet sticking fast,
4. 3.12.4 |   Out of his headpeece \Cambell\ fiercely reft,
4. 3.12.5 |   And with such furie backe at him it heft,
4. 3.12.6 |   That making way vnto his dearest life,
4. 3.12.7 |   His weasand pipe it through his gorget cleft:
4. 3.12.8 |   Thence streames of purple bloud issuing rife,
4. 3.12.9 | Let forth his wearie ghost and made an end of strife.

4. 3.13.1 | His wearie ghost assoyld from fleshly band,
4. 3.13.2 |   Did not as others wont, directly fly
4. 3.13.3 |   Vnto her rest in Plutoes griesly land,
4. 3.13.4 |   Ne into ayre did vanish presently,
4. 3.13.5 |   Ne chaunged was into a starre in sky:
4. 3.13.6 |   But through traduction was eftsoones deriued,
4. 3.13.7 |   Like as his mother prayd the Destinie,
4. 3.13.8 |   Into his other brethren, that suruiued,
4. 3.13.9 | In whom he liu'd a new, of former life depriued.

4. 3.14.1 | Whom when on ground his brother next beheld,
4. 3.14.2 |   Though sad and sorie for so heauy sight,
4. 3.14.3 |   Yet leaue vnto his sorrow did not yeeld,
4. 3.14.4 |   But rather stird to vengeance and despight,
4. 3.14.5 |   Through secret feeling of his generous spright,
4. 3.14.6 |   Rusht fiercely forth, the battell to renew,
4. 3.14.7 |   As in reuersion of his brothers right;
4. 3.14.8 |   And chalenging the Virgin as his dew.
4. 3.14.9 | His foe was soone addrest: the trompets freshly blew.

4. 3.15.1 | With that they both together fiercely met,
4. 3.15.2 |   As if that each ment other to deuoure;
4. 3.15.3 |   And with their axes both so sorely bet,
4. 3.15.4 |   That neither plate nor mayle, whereas their powre
4. 3.15.5 |   They felt, could once sustaine the hideous stowre,
4. 3.15.6 |   But riued were like rotten wood a sunder,
4. 3.15.7 |   Whilest through their rifts the ruddie bloud did showre
4. 3.15.8 |   And fire did flash, like lightning after thunder,
4. 3.15.9 | That fild the lookers on attonce with ruth and wonder.

4. 3.16.1 | As when two Tygers prickt with hungers rage,
4. 3.16.2 |   Haue by good fortune found some beasts fresh spoyle,
4. 3.16.3 |   On which they weene their famine to asswage,
4. 3.16.4 |   And gaine a feastfull guerdon of their toyle,
4. 3.16.5 |   Both falling out doe stirre vp strifefull broyle,
4. 3.16.6 |   And cruell battell twixt themselues doe make,
4. 3.16.7 |   Whiles neither lets the other touch the soyle,
4. 3.16.8 |   But either sdeignes with other to partake:
4. 3.16.9 | So cruelly these Knights stroue for that Ladies sake.

4. 3.17.1 | Full many strokes, that mortally were ment,
4. 3.17.2 |   The whiles were enterchaunged twixt them two;
4. 3.17.3 |   Yet they were all with so good wariment
4. 3.17.4 |   Or warded, or auoyded and let goe,
4. 3.17.5 |   That still the life stood fearelesse of her foe:
4. 3.17.6 |   Till \Diamond\ disdeigning long delay
4. 3.17.7 |   Of doubtfull fortune wauering to and fro,
4. 3.17.8 |   Resolu'd to end it one or other way;
4. 3.17.9 | And heau'd his murdrous axe at him with mighty sway.

4. 3.18.1 | The dreadfull stroke in case it had arriued,
4. 3.18.2 |   Where it was ment, (so deadly it was ment)
4. 3.18.3 |   The soule had sure out of his bodie riued,
4. 3.18.4 |   And stinted all the strife incontinent.
4. 3.18.5 |   But \Cambels\ fate that fortune did preuent:
4. 3.18.6 |   For seeing it at hand, he swaru'd asyde,
4. 3.18.7 |   And so gaue way vnto his fell intent:
4. 3.18.8 |   Who missing of the marke which he had eyde,
4. 3.18.9 | Was with the force nigh feld whilst his right foot did slyde.

4. 3.19.1 | As when a Vulture greedie of his pray,
4. 3.19.2 |   Through hunger long, that hart to him doth lend,
4. 3.19.3 |   Strikes at an Heron with all his bodies sway,
4. 3.19.4 |   That from his force seemes nought may it defend;
4. 3.19.5 |   The warie fowle that spies him toward bend
4. 3.19.6 |   His dreadfull souse, auoydes it shunning light,
4. 3.19.7 |   And maketh him his wing in vaine to spend;
4. 3.19.8 |   That with the weight of his owne weeldlesse might,
4. 3.19.9 | He falleth nigh to ground, and scarse recouereth flight.

4. 3.20.1 | Which faire aduenture when \Cambello\ spide,
4. 3.20.2 |   Full lightly, ere himselfe he could recower,
4. 3.20.3 |   From daungers dread to ward his naked side,
4. 3.20.4 |   He can let driue at him with all his power,
4. 3.20.5 |   And with his axe him smote in euill hower,
4. 3.20.6 |   That from his shoulders quite his head he reft:
4. 3.20.7 |   The headlesse tronke, as heedlesse of that stower,
4. 3.20.8 |   Stood still a while, and his fast footing kept,
4. 3.20.9 | Till feeling life to fayle, it fell, and deadly slept.

4. 3.21.1 | They which that piteous spectacle beheld,
4. 3.21.2 |   Were much amaz'd the headlesse tronke to see
4. 3.21.3 |   Stand vp so long, and weapon vaine to weld,
4. 3.21.4 |   Vnweeting of the Fates diuine decree,
4. 3.21.5 |   For lifes succession in those brethren three.
4. 3.21.6 |   For notwithstanding that one soule was reft,
4. 3.21.7 |   Yet, had the bodie not dismembred bee,
4. 3.21.8 |   It would haue liued, and reuiued eft;
4. 3.21.9 | But finding no fit seat, the lifelesse corse it left.

4. 3.22.1 | It left; but that same soule, which therein dwelt,
4. 3.22.2 |   Streight entring into \Triamond\, him fild
4. 3.22.3 |   With double life, and griefe, which when he felt,
4. 3.22.4 |   As one whose inner parts had bene ythrild
4. 3.22.5 |   With point of steele, that close his hartbloud spild,
4. 3.22.6 |   He lightly lept out of his place of rest,
4. 3.22.7 |   And rushing forth into the emptie field,
4. 3.22.8 |   Against \Cambello\ fiercely him addrest;
4. 3.22.9 | Who him affronting soone to fight was readie prest.

4. 3.23.1 | Well mote ye wonder how that noble Knight,
4. 3.23.2 |   After he had so often wounded beene,
4. 3.23.3 |   Could stand on foot, now to renew the fight.
4. 3.23.4 |   But had ye then him forth aduauncing seene,
4. 3.23.5 |   Some newborne wight ye would him surely weene:
4. 3.23.6 |   So fresh he seemed and so fierce in sight;
4. 3.23.7 |   Like as a Snake, whom wearie winters teene
4. 3.23.8 |   Hath worne to nought, now feeling sommers might,
4. 3.23.9 | Casts off his ragged skin and freshly doth him dight.

4. 3.24.1 | All was through vertue of the ring he wore,
4. 3.24.2 |   The which not onely did not from him let
4. 3.24.3 |   One drop of bloud to fall, but did restore
4. 3.24.4 |   His weakned powers, and dulled spirits whet,
4. 3.24.5 |   Through working of the stone therein yset.
4. 3.24.6 |   Else how could one of equall might with most,
4. 3.24.7 |   Against so many no lesse mightie met,
4. 3.24.8 |   Once thinke to match three such on equall cost,
4. 3.24.9 | Three such as able were to match a puissant host.

4. 3.25.1 | Yet nought thereof was \Triamond\ adredde,
4. 3.25.2 |   Ne desperate of glorious victorie,
4. 3.25.3 |   But sharpely him assayld, and sore bestedde,
4. 3.25.4 |   With heapes of strokes, which he at him let flie,
4. 3.25.5 |   As thicke as hayle forth poured from the skie:
4. 3.25.6 |   He stroke, he soust, he foynd, he hewd, he lasht,
4. 3.25.7 |   And did his yron brond so fast applie,
4. 3.25.8 |   That from the same the fierie sparkles flasht,
4. 3.25.9 | As fast as water-sprinkles gainst a rocke are dasht.

4. 3.26.1 | Much was \Cambello\ daunted with his blowes.
4. 3.26.2 |   So thicke they fell, and forcibly were sent,
4. 3.26.3 |   That he was forst from daunger of the throwes
4. 3.26.4 |   Backe to retire, and somewhat to relent,
4. 3.26.5 |   Till th'=heat of his fierce furie he had spent:
4. 3.26.6 |   Which when for want of breath gan to abate,
4. 3.26.7 |   He then afresh with new encouragement
4. 3.26.8 |   Did him assayle, and mightily amate,
4. 3.26.9 | As fast as forward erst, now backward to retrate.

4. 3.27.1 | Like as the tide that comes fro th'=Ocean mayne,
4. 3.27.2 |   Flowes vp the Shenan with contrarie forse,
4. 3.27.3 |   And ouerruling him in his owne rayne,
4. 3.27.4 |   Driues backe the current of his kindly course,
4. 3.27.5 |   And makes it seeme to haue some other sourse:
4. 3.27.6 |   But when the floud is spent, then backe againe
4. 3.27.7 |   His borrowed waters forst to redisbourse,
4. 3.27.8 |   He sends the sea his owne with double gaine,
4. 3.27.9 | And tribute eke withall, as to his Soueraine.

4. 3.28.1 | Thus did the battell varie to and fro,
4. 3.28.2 |   With diuerse fortune doubtfull to be deemed:
4. 3.28.3 |   Now this the better had, now had his fo;
4. 3.28.4 |   Then he halfe vanquisht, then the other seemed,
4. 3.28.5 |   Yet victors both them selues alwayes esteemed.
4. 3.28.6 |   And all the while the disentrayled blood
4. 3.28.7 |   Adowne their sides like litle riuers stremed,
4. 3.28.8 |   That with the wasting of his vitall flood,
4. 3.28.9 | Sir \Triamond\ at last full faint and feeble stood.

4. 3.29.1 | But \Cambell\ still more strong and greater grew,
4. 3.29.2 |   Ne felt his blood to wast, ne powres emperisht,
4. 3.29.3 |   Through that rings vertue, that with vigour new,
4. 3.29.4 |   Still when as he enfeebled was, him cherisht,
4. 3.29.5 |   And all his wounds, and all his bruses guarisht,
4. 3.29.6 |   Like as a withered tree through husbands toyle
4. 3.29.7 |   Is often seene full freshly to haue florisht,
4. 3.29.8 |   And fruitfull apples to haue borne awhile,
4. 3.29.9 | As fresh as when it first was planted in the soyle.

4. 3.30.1 | Through which aduantage, in his strength he rose,
4. 3.30.2 |   And smote the other with so wondrous might,
4. 3.30.3 |   That through the seame, which did his hauberk close,
4. 3.30.4 |   Into his throate and life it pierced quight,
4. 3.30.5 |   That downe he fell as dead in all mens sight:
4. 3.30.6 |   Yet dead he was not, yet he sure did die,
4. 3.30.7 |   As all men do, that lose the liuing spright:
4. 3.30.8 |   So did one soule out of his bodie flie
4. 3.30.9 | Vnto her natiue home from mortall miserie.

4. 3.31.1 | But nathelesse whilst all the lookers on
4. 3.31.2 |   Him dead behight, as he to all appeard,
4. 3.31.3 |   All vnawares he started vp anon,
4. 3.31.4 |   As one that had out of a dreame bene reard,
4. 3.31.5 |   And fresh assayld his foe, who halfe affeard
4. 3.31.6 |   Of th'=vncouth sight, as he some ghost had seene,
4. 3.31.7 |   Stood still amaz'd, holding his idle sweard;
4. 3.31.8 |   Till hauing often by him stricken beene,
4. 3.31.9 | He forced was to strike, and saue him selfe from teene.

4. 3.32.1 | Yet from thenceforth more warily he fought,
4. 3.32.2 |   As one in feare the Stygian gods t'=offend,
4. 3.32.3 |   Ne followd on so fast, but rather sought
4. 3.32.4 |   Him selfe to saue, and daunger to defend,
4. 3.32.5 |   Then life and labour both in vaine to spend.
4. 3.32.6 |   Which \Triamond\ perceiuing, weened sure
4. 3.32.7 |   He gan to faint, toward the battels end,
4. 3.32.8 |   And that he should not long on foote endure,
4. 3.32.9 | A signe which did to him the victorie assure.

4. 3.33.1 | Whereof full blith, eftsoones his mightie hand
4. 3.33.2 |   He heav'd on high, in mind with that same blow
4. 3.33.3 |   To make an end of all that did withstand:
4. 3.33.4 |   Which \Cambell\ seeing come, was nothing slow
4. 3.33.5 |   Him selfe to saue from that so deadly throw;
4. 3.33.6 |   And at that instant reaching forth his sweard
4. 3.33.7 |   Close vnderneath his shield, that scarce did show,
4. 3.33.8 |   Stroke him, as he his hand to strike vpreard,
4. 3.33.9 | In th'=arm-pit full, that through both sides the wound appeard.

4. 3.34.1 | Yet still that direfull stroke kept on his way,
4. 3.34.2 |   And falling heauie on \Cambelloes\ crest,
4. 3.34.3 |   Strooke him so hugely, that in swowne he lay,
4. 3.34.4 |   And in his head an hideous wound imprest:
4. 3.34.5 |   And sure had it not happily found rest
4. 3.34.6 |   Vpon the brim of his brode plated shield,
4. 3.34.7 |   It would haue cleft his braine downe to his brest.
4. 3.34.8 |   So both at once fell dead vpon the field,
4. 3.34.9 | And each to other seemd the victorie to yield.

4. 3.35.1 | Which when as all the lookers on beheld,
4. 3.35.2 |   They weened sure the warre was at an end,
4. 3.35.3 |   And Iudges rose, and Marshals of the field
4. 3.35.4 |   Broke vp the listes, their armes away to rend;
4. 3.35.5 |   And \Canacee\ gan wayle her dearest frend.
4. 3.35.6 |   All suddenly they both vpstarted light,
4. 3.35.7 |   The one out of the swownd, which him did blend,
4. 3.35.8 |   The other breathing now another spright,
4. 3.35.9 | And fiercely each assayling, gan afresh to fight.

4. 3.36.1 | Long while they then continued in that wize,
4. 3.36.2 |   As if but then the battell had begonne:
4. 3.36.3 |   Strokes, wounds, wards, weapons, all they did despise,
4. 3.36.4 |   Ne either car'd to ward, or perill shonne,
4. 3.36.5 |   Desirous both to haue the battell donne;
4. 3.36.6 |   Ne either cared life to saue or spill,
4. 3.36.7 |   Ne which of them did winne, ne which were wonne.
4. 3.36.8 |   So wearie both of fighting had their fill,
4. 3.36.9 | That life it selfe seemd loathsome, and long safetie ill.

4. 3.37.1 | Whilst thus the case in doubtfull ballance hong,
4. 3.37.2 |   Vnsure to whether side it would incline,
4. 3.37.3 |   And all mens eyes and hearts, which there among
4. 3.37.4 |   Stood gazing, filled were with rufull tine,
4. 3.37.5 |   And secret feare, to see their fatall fine,
4. 3.37.6 |   All suddenly they heard a troublous noyes,
4. 3.37.7 |   That seemd some perilous tumult to desine,
4. 3.37.8 |   Confusd with womens cries, and shouts of boyes,
4. 3.37.9 | Such as the troubled Theaters oftimes annoyes.

4. 3.38.1 | Thereat the Champions both stood still a space,
4. 3.38.2 |   To weeten what that sudden clamour ment;
4. 3.38.3 |   Lo where they spyde with speedie whirling pace,
4. 3.38.4 |   One in a charet of straunge furniment,
4. 3.38.5 |   Towards them driuing like a storme out sent.
4. 3.38.6 |   The charet decked was in wondrous wize,
4. 3.38.7 |   With gold and many a gorgeous ornament,
4. 3.38.8 |   After the Persian Monarks antique guize,
4. 3.38.9 | Such as the maker selfe could best by art deuize.

4. 3.39.1 | And drawne it was (that wonder is to tell)
4. 3.39.2 |   Of two grim lyons, taken from the wood,
4. 3.39.3 |   In which their powre all others did excell;
4. 3.39.4 |   Now made forget their former cruell mood,
4. 3.39.5 |   T'=obey their riders hest, as seemed good.
4. 3.39.6 |   And therein sate a Ladie passing faire
4. 3.39.7 |   And bright, that seemed borne of Angels brood,
4. 3.39.8 |   And with her beautie bountie did compare,
4. 3.39.9 | Whether of them in her should haue the greater share.

4. 3.40.1 | Thereto she learned was in Magicke leare,
4. 3.40.2 |   And all the artes, that subtill wits discouer,
4. 3.40.3 |   Hauing therein bene trained many a yeare,
4. 3.40.4 |   And well instructed by the Fay her mother,
4. 3.40.5 |   That in the same she farre exceld all other.
4. 3.40.6 |   Who vnderstanding by her mightie art,
4. 3.40.7 |   Of th'=euill plight, in which her dearest brother
4. 3.40.8 |   Now stood, came forth in hast to take his part,
4. 3.40.9 | And pacifie the strife, which causd so deadly smart.

4. 3.41.1 | And as she passed through th'=vnruly preace
4. 3.41.2 |   Of people, thronging thicke her to behold,
4. 3.41.3 |   Her angrie teame breaking their bonds of peace,
4. 3.41.4 |   Great heapes of them, like sheepe in narrow fold,
4. 3.41.5 |   For hast did ouer-runne, in dust enrould,
4. 3.41.6 |   That thorough rude confusion of the rout,
4. 3.41.7 |   Some fearing shriekt, some being harmed hould,
4. 3.41.8 |   Some laught for sport, some did for wonder shout,
4. 3.41.9 | And some that would seeme wise, their wonder turnd to dout.

4. 3.42.1 | In her right hand a rod of peace shee bore,
4. 3.42.2 |   About the which two Serpents weren wound,
4. 3.42.3 |   Entrayled mutually in louely lore,
4. 3.42.4 |   And by the tailes together firmely bound,
4. 3.42.5 |   And both were with one oliue garland crownd,
4. 3.42.6 |   Like to the rod which \Maias\ sonne doth wield,
4. 3.42.7 |   Wherewith the hellish fiends he doth confound.
4. 3.42.8 |   And in her other hand a cup she hild,
4. 3.42.9 | The which was with Nepenthe to the brim vpfild.

4. 3.43.1 | Nepenthe is a drinck of souerayne grace,
4. 3.43.2 |   Deuized by the Gods, for to asswage
4. 3.43.3 |   Harts grief, and bitter gall away to chace,
4. 3.43.4 |   Which stirs vp anguish and contentious rage:
4. 3.43.5 |   In stead thereof sweet peace and quiet age
4. 3.43.6 |   It doth establish in the troubled mynd.
4. 3.43.7 |   Few men, but such as sober are and sage,
4. 3.43.8 |   Are by the Gods to drinck thereof assynd;
4. 3.43.9 | But such as drinck, eternall happinesse do fynd.

4. 3.44.1 | Such famous men, such worthies of the earth,
4. 3.44.2 |   As \Ioue\ will haue aduaunced to the skie,
4. 3.44.3 |   And there made gods, though borne of mortall berth,
4. 3.44.4 |   For their high merits and great dignitie,
4. 3.44.5 |   Are wont, before they may to heauen flie,
4. 3.44.6 |   To drincke hereof, whereby all cares forepast
4. 3.44.7 |   Are washt away quite from their memorie.
4. 3.44.8 |   So did those olde Heroes hereof taste,
4. 3.44.9 | Before that they in blisse amongst the Gods were plaste.

4. 3.45.1 | Much more of price and of more gratious powre
4. 3.45.2 |   Is this, then that same water of Ardenne,
4. 3.45.3 |   The which \Rinaldo\ drunck in happie howre,
4. 3.45.4 |   Described by that famous Tuscane penne:
4. 3.45.5 |   For that had might to change the hearts of men
4. 3.45.6 |   Fro loue to hate, a change of euill choise:
4. 3.45.7 |   But this doth hatred make in loue to brenne,
4. 3.45.8 |   And heauy heart with comfort doth reioyce.
4. 3.45.9 | Who would not to this vertue rather yeeld his voice?

4. 3.46.1 | At last arriuing by the listes side,
4. 3.46.2 |   Shee with her rod did softly smite the raile,
4. 3.46.3 |   Which straight flew ope, and gaue her way to ride.
4. 3.46.4 |   Eftsoones out of her Coch she gan auaile,
4. 3.46.5 |   And pacing fairely forth, did bid all haile,
4. 3.46.6 |   First to her brother, whom she loued deare,
4. 3.46.7 |   That so to see him made her heart to quaile:
4. 3.46.8 |   And next to \Cambell\, whose sad ruefull cheare
4. 3.46.9 | Made her to change her hew, and hidden loue t'=appeare.

4. 3.47.1 | They lightly her requit (for small delight
4. 3.47.2 |   They had as then her long to entertaine,)
4. 3.47.3 |   And eft them turned both againe to fight,
4. 3.47.4 |   Which when she saw, downe on the bloudy plaine
4. 3.47.5 |   Her selfe she threw, and teares gan shed amaine;
4. 3.47.6 |   Amongst her teares immixing prayers meeke,
4. 3.47.7 |   And with her prayers reasons to restraine
4. 3.47.8 |   From blouddy strife, and blessed peace to seeke,
4. 3.47.9 | By all that vnto them was deare, did them beseeke.

4. 3.48.1 | But when as all might nought with them preuaile,
4. 3.48.2 |   Shee smote them lightly with her powrefull wand.
4. 3.48.3 |   Then suddenly as if their hearts did faile,
4. 3.48.4 |   Their wrathfull blades downe fell out of their hand,
4. 3.48.5 |   And they like men astonisht still did stand.
4. 3.48.6 |   Thus whilest their minds were doubtfully distraught,
4. 3.48.7 |   And mighty spirites bound with mightier band,
4. 3.48.8 |   Her golden cup to them for drinke she raught,
4. 3.48.9 | Whereof full glad for thirst, ech drunk an harty draught.

4. 3.49.1 | Of which so soone as they once tasted had,
4. 3.49.2 |   Wonder it is that sudden change to see:
4. 3.49.3 |   Instead of strokes, each other kissed glad,
4. 3.49.4 |   And louely haulst from feare of treason free,
4. 3.49.5 |   And plighted hands for euer friends to be.
4. 3.49.6 |   When all men saw this sudden change of things,
4. 3.49.7 |   So mortall foes so friendly to agree,
4. 3.49.8 |   For passing ioy, which so great maruaile brings,
4. 3.49.9 | They all gan shout aloud, that all the heauen rings.

4. 3.50.1 | All which, when gentle \Canacee\ beheld,
4. 3.50.2 |   In hast she from her lofty chaire descended,
4. 3.50.3 |   To weet what sudden tidings was befeld:
4. 3.50.4 |   Where when she saw that cruell war so ended,
4. 3.50.5 |   And deadly foes so faithfully affrended,
4. 3.50.6 |   In louely wise she gan that Lady greet,
4. 3.50.7 |   Which had so great dismay so well amended,
4. 3.50.8 |   And entertaining her with curt'sies meet,
4. 3.50.9 | Profest to her true friendship and affection sweet.

4. 3.51.1 | Thus when they all accorded goodly were,
4. 3.51.2 |   The trumpets sounded, and they all arose,
4. 3.51.3 |   Thence to depart with glee and gladsome chere.
4. 3.51.4 |   Those warlike champions both together chose,
4. 3.51.5 |   Homeward to march, themselues there to repose,
4. 3.51.6 |   And wise \Cambina\ taking by her side
4. 3.51.7 |   Faire \Canacee\, as fresh as morning rose,
4. 3.51.8 |   Vnto her Coch remounting, home did ride,
4. 3.51.9 | Admir'd of all the people, and much glorifide.

4. 3.52.1 | Where making ioyous feast theire daies they spent
4. 3.52.2 |   In perfect loue, deuoide of hatefull strife,
4. 3.52.3 |   Allide with bands of mutuall couplement;
4. 3.52.4 |   For \Triamond\ had \Canacee\ to wife,
4. 3.52.5 |   With whom he ledd a long and happie life;
4. 3.52.6 |   And \Cambel\ tooke \Cambina\ to his fere,
4. 3.52.7 |   The which as life were each to other liefe.
4. 3.52.8 |   So all alike did loue, and loued were,
4. 3.52.9 | That since their days such louers were not found elswhere.


4. 4. A.1 | \Satyrane makes a Turneyment\
4. 4. A.2 |   \For loue of Florimell:\
4. 4. A.3 | \Britomart winnes the prize from all,\
4. 4. A.4 |   \And Artegall doth quell.\

4. 4. 1.1 | It often fals, (as here it earst befell)
4. 4. 1.2 |   That mortall foes doe turne to faithfull frends,
4. 4. 1.3 |   And friends profest are chaungd to foemen fell:
4. 4. 1.4 |   The cause of both, of both their minds depends,
4. 4. 1.5 |   And th'=end of both likewise of both their ends.
4. 4. 1.6 |   For enmitie, that of no ill proceeds,
4. 4. 1.7 |   But of occasion, with th'=occasion ends;
4. 4. 1.8 |   And friendship, which a faint affection breeds
4. 4. 1.9 | Without regard of good, dyes like ill grounded seeds.

4. 4. 2.1 | That well (me seemes) appeares, by that of late
4. 4. 2.2 |   Twixt \Cambell\ and Sir \Triamond\ befell,
4. 4. 2.3 |   As als by this, that now a new debate
4. 4. 2.4 |   Stird vp twixt \Scudamour\ and \Paridell\,
4. 4. 2.5 |   The which by course befals me here to tell:
4. 4. 2.6 |   Who hauing those two other Knights espide
4. 4. 2.7 |   Marching afore, as ye remember well,
4. 4. 2.8 |   Sent forth their Squire to haue them both descride,
4. 4. 2.9 | And eke those masked Ladies riding them beside.

4. 4. 3.1 | Who backe returning, told as he had seene,
4. 4. 3.2 |   That they were doughtie knights of dreaded name;
4. 4. 3.3 |   And those two Ladies, their two loues vnseene;
4. 4. 3.4 |   And therefore wisht them without blot or blame,
4. 4. 3.5 |   To let them passe at will, for dread of shame.
4. 4. 3.6 |   But \Blandamour\ full of vainglorious spright,
4. 4. 3.7 |   And rather stird by his discordfull Dame,
4. 4. 3.8 |   Vpon them gladly would haue prov'd his might,
4. 4. 3.9 | But that he yet was sore of his late lucklesse fight.

4. 4. 4.1 | Yet nigh approching, he them fowle bespake,
4. 4. 4.2 |   Disgracing them, him selfe thereby to grace,
4. 4. 4.3 |   As was his wont, so weening way to make
4. 4. 4.4 |   To Ladies loue, where so he came in place,
4. 4. 4.5 |   And with lewd termes their louers to deface.
4. 4. 4.6 |   Whose sharpe prouokement them incenst so sore,
4. 4. 4.7 |   That both were bent t'=auenge his vsage base,
4. 4. 4.8 |   And gan their shields addresse them selues afore:
4. 4. 4.9 | For euill deedes may better then bad words be bore.

4. 4. 5.1 | But faire \Cambina\ with perswasions myld,
4. 4. 5.2 |   Did mitigate the fiercenesse of their mode,
4. 4. 5.3 |   That for the present they were reconcyld,
4. 4. 5.4 |   And gan to treate of deeds of armes abrode,
4. 4. 5.5 |   And strange aduentures, all the way they rode:
4. 4. 5.6 |   Amongst the which they told, as then befell,
4. 4. 5.7 |   Of that great turney, which was blazed brode,
4. 4. 5.8 |   For that rich girdle of faire \Florimell\,
4. 4. 5.9 | The prize of her, which did in beautie most excell.

4. 4. 6.1 | To which folke-mote they all with one consent,
4. 4. 6.2 |   Sith each of them his Ladie had him by,
4. 4. 6.3 |   Whose beautie each of them thought excellent,
4. 4. 6.4 |   Agreed to trauell, and their fortunes try.
4. 4. 6.5 |   So as they passed forth, they did espy
4. 4. 6.6 |   One in bright armes, with ready speare in rest,
4. 4. 6.7 |   That toward them his course seem'd to apply,
4. 4. 6.8 |   Gainst whom Sir \Paridell\ himselfe addrest,
4. 4. 6.9 | Him weening, ere he nigh approcht to haue represt.

4. 4. 7.1 | Which th'=other seeing, gan his course relent,
4. 4. 7.2 |   And vaunted speare eftsoones to disaduaunce,
4. 4. 7.3 |   As if he naught but peace and pleasure ment,
4. 4. 7.4 |   Now falne into their fellowship by chance,
4. 4. 7.5 |   Whereat they shewed curteous countenaunce.
4. 4. 7.6 |   So as he rode with them accompanide,
4. 4. 7.7 |   His rouing eie did on the Lady glaunce,
4. 4. 7.8 |   Which \Blandamour\ had riding by his side:
4. 4. 7.9 | Whom sure he weend, that he some wher tofore had eide.

4. 4. 8.1 | It was to weete that snowy \Florimell\,
4. 4. 8.2 |   Which \Ferrau\ late from \Braggadochio\ wonne,
4. 4. 8.3 |   Whom he now seeing, her remembred well,
4. 4. 8.4 |   How hauing reft her from the witches sonne,
4. 4. 8.5 |   He soone her lost: wherefore he now begunne
4. 4. 8.6 |   To challenge her anew, as his owne prize,
4. 4. 8.7 |   Whom formerly he had in battell wonne,
4. 4. 8.8 |   And proffer made by force her to reprize,
4. 4. 8.9 | Which scornefull offer, \Blandamour\ gan soone despize.

4. 4. 9.1 | And said, Sir Knight, sith ye this Lady clame,
4. 4. 9.2 |   Whom he that hath, were loth to lose so light,
4. 4. 9.3 |   (For so to lose a Lady, were great shame)
4. 4. 9.4 |   Yee shall her winne, as I haue done in fight:
4. 4. 9.5 |   And lo shee shall be placed here in sight,
4. 4. 9.6 |   Together with this Hag beside her set,
4. 4. 9.7 |   That who so winnes her, may her haue by right:
4. 4. 9.8 |   But he shall haue the Hag that is ybet,
4. 4. 9.9 | And with her alwaies ride, till he another get.

4. 4.10.1 | That offer pleased all the company,
4. 4.10.2 |   So \Florimell\ with \Ate\ forth was brought,
4. 4.10.3 |   At which they all gan laugh full merrily:
4. 4.10.4 |   But \Braggadochio\ said, he neuer thought
4. 4.10.5 |   For such an Hag, that seemed worse then nought,
4. 4.10.6 |   His person to emperill so in fight.
4. 4.10.7 |   But if to match that Lady they had sought
4. 4.10.8 |   Another like, that were like faire and bright,
4. 4.10.9 | His life he then would spend to iustifie his right.

4. 4.11.1 | At which his vaine excuse they all gan smile,
4. 4.11.2 |   As scorning his vnmanly cowardize:
4. 4.11.3 |   And \Florimell\ him fowly gan reuile,
4. 4.11.4 |   That for her sake refus'd to enterprize
4. 4.11.5 |   The battell, offred in so knightly wize.
4. 4.11.6 |   And \Ate\ eke prouokt him priuily,
4. 4.11.7 |   With loue of her, and shame of such mesprize.
4. 4.11.8 |   But naught he car'd for friend or enemy,
4. 4.11.9 | For in base mind nor friendship dwels nor enmity.

4. 4.12.1 | But \Cambell\ thus did shut vp all in iest,
4. 4.12.2 |   Braue Knights and Ladies, certes ye doe wrong
4. 4.12.3 |   To stirre vp strife, when most vs needeth rest,
4. 4.12.4 |   That we may vs reserue both fresh and strong,
4. 4.12.5 |   Against the Turneiment which is not long.
4. 4.12.6 |   When who so list to fight, may fight his fill,
4. 4.12.7 |   Till then your challenges ye may prolong;
4. 4.12.8 |   And then it shall be tried, if ye will,
4. 4.12.9 | Whether shall haue the Hag, or hold the Lady still.

4. 4.13.1 | They all agreed, so turning all to game,
4. 4.13.2 |   And pleasaunt bord, they past forth on their way,
4. 4.13.3 |   And all that while, where so they rode or came,
4. 4.13.4 |   That masked Mock-knight was their sport and play.
4. 4.13.5 |   Till that at length vpon th'=appointed day,
4. 4.13.6 |   Vnto the place of turneyment they came;
4. 4.13.7 |   Where they before them found in fresh aray
4. 4.13.8 |   Manie a braue knight, and manie a daintie dame
4. 4.13.9 | Assembled, for to get the honour of that game.

4. 4.14.1 | There this faire crewe arriuing, did diuide
4. 4.14.2 |   Them selues asunder: \Blandamour\ with those
4. 4.14.3 |   Of his, on th'=one; the rest on th'=other side.
4. 4.14.4 |   But boastfull \Braggadocchio\ rather  chose,
4. 4.14.5 |   For glorie vaine their fellowship to lose,
4. 4.14.6 |   That men on him the more might gaze alone.
4. 4.14.7 |   The rest them selues in troupes did else dispose,
4. 4.14.8 |   Like as it seemed best to euery one;
4. 4.14.9 | The knights in couples marcht, with ladies linckt attone.

4. 4.15.1 | Then first of all forth came Sir \Satyrane\,
4. 4.15.2 |   Bearing that precious relicke in an arke
4. 4.15.3 |   Of gold, that bad eyes might it not prophane:
4. 4.15.4 |   Which drawing softly forth out of the darke,
4. 4.15.5 |   He open shewd, that all men it mote marke.
4. 4.15.6 |   A gorgeous girdle, curiously embost
4. 4.15.7 |   With pearle and precious stone, worth many a marke;
4. 4.15.8 |   Yet did the workmanship farre passe the cost:
4. 4.15.9 | It was the same, which lately \Florimel\ had lost.

4. 4.16.1 | That same aloft he hong in open vew,
4. 4.16.2 |   To be the prize of beautie and of might;
4. 4.16.3 |   The which eftsoones discouered, to it drew
4. 4.16.4 |   The eyes of all, allur'd with close delight,
4. 4.16.5 |   And hearts quite robbed with so glorious sight,
4. 4.16.6 |   That all men threw out vowes and wishes vaine.
4. 4.16.7 |   Thrise happie Ladie, and thrise happie knight,
4. 4.16.8 |   Them seemd that could so goodly riches gaine,
4. 4.16.9 | So worthie of the perill, worthy of the paine.

4. 4.17.1 | Then tooke the bold Sir \Satyrane\ in hand
4. 4.17.2 |   An huge great speare, such as he wont to wield,
4. 4.17.3 |   And vauncing forth from all the other band
4. 4.17.4 |   Of knights, addrest his maiden-headed shield,
4. 4.17.5 |   Shewing him selfe all ready for the field.
4. 4.17.6 |   Gainst whom there singled from the other side
4. 4.17.7 |   A Painim knight, that well in armes was skild,
4. 4.17.8 |   And had in many a battell oft bene tride,
4. 4.17.9 | Hight \Bruncheual\ the bold, who fiersly forth did ride.

4. 4.18.1 | So furiously they both together met,
4. 4.18.2 |   That neither could the others force sustaine;
4. 4.18.3 |   As two fierce Buls, that striue the rule to get
4. 4.18.4 |   Of all the heard, meete with so hideous maine,
4. 4.18.5 |   That both rebutted, tumble on the plaine:
4. 4.18.6 |   So these two champions to the ground were feld,
4. 4.18.7 |   Where in a maze they both did long remaine,
4. 4.18.8 |   And in their hands their idle troncheons held,
4. 4.18.9 | Which neither able were to wag, or once to weld.

4. 4.19.1 | Which when the noble \Ferramont\ espide,
4. 4.19.2 |   He pricked forth in ayd of \Satyran\;
4. 4.19.3 |   And him against Sir \Blandamour\ did ride
4. 4.19.4 |   With all the strength and stifnesse that he can.
4. 4.19.5 |   But the more strong and stiffely that he ran,
4. 4.19.6 |   So much more sorely to the ground he fell,
4. 4.19.7 |   That on an heape were tumbled horse and man.
4. 4.19.8 |   Vnto whose rescue forth rode \Paridell\;
4. 4.19.9 | But him likewise with that same speare he eke did quell.

4. 4.20.1 | Which \Braggadocchio\ seeing, had no will
4. 4.20.2 |   To hasten greatly to his parties ayd,
4. 4.20.3 |   Albee his turne were next; but stood there still,
4. 4.20.4 |   As one that seemed doubtfull or dismayd.
4. 4.20.5 |   But \Triamond\ halfe wroth to see him staid,
4. 4.20.6 |   Sternly stept forth, and raught away his speare,
4. 4.20.7 |   With which so sore he \Ferramont\ assaid,
4. 4.20.8 |   That horse and man to ground he quite did beare,
4. 4.20.9 | That neither could in hast themselues againe vpreare.

4. 4.21.1 | Which to auenge, Sir \Deuon\ him did dight,
4. 4.21.2 |   But with no better fortune then the rest:
4. 4.21.3 |   For him likewise he quickly downe did smight,
4. 4.21.4 |   And after him Sir \Douglas\ him addrest,
4. 4.21.5 |   And after him Sir \Paliumord\ forth prest,
4. 4.21.6 |   But none of them against his strokes could stand,
4. 4.21.7 |   But all the more, the more his praise increst.
4. 4.21.8 |   For either they were left vppon the land,
4. 4.21.9 | Or went away sore wounded of his haplesse hand.

4. 4.22.1 | And now by this, Sir \Satyrane\ abraid,
4. 4.22.2 |   Out of the swowne, in which too long he lay;
4. 4.22.3 |   And looking round about, like one dismaid,
4. 4.22.4 |   When as he saw the mercilesse affray,
4. 4.22.5 |   Which doughty \Triamond\ had wrought that day,
4. 4.22.6 |   Vnto the noble Knights of Maidenhead,
4. 4.22.7 |   His mighty heart did almost rend in tway,
4. 4.22.8 |   For very gall, that rather wholly dead
4. 4.22.9 | Himselfe he wisht haue beene, then in so bad a stead.

4. 4.23.1 | Eftsoones he gan to gather vp around
4. 4.23.2 |   His weapons, which lay scattered all abrode,
4. 4.23.3 |   And as it fell, his steed he ready found.
4. 4.23.4 |   On whom remounting, fiercely forth he rode,
4. 4.23.5 |   Like sparke of fire that from the anduile glode,
4. 4.23.6 |   There where he saw the valiant \Triamond\
4. 4.23.7 |   Chasing, and laying on them heauy lode.
4. 4.23.8 |   That none his force were able to withstond,
4. 4.23.9 | So dreadfull were his strokes, so deadly was his hond.

4. 4.24.1 | With that at him his beamlike speare he aimed,
4. 4.24.2 |   And thereto all his power and might applide:
4. 4.24.3 |   The wicked steele for mischiefe first ordained,
4. 4.24.4 |   And hauing now misfortune got for guide,
4. 4.24.5 |   Staid not, till it arriued in his side,
4. 4.24.6 |   And therein made a very griesly wound,
4. 4.24.7 |   That streames of bloud his armour all bedide.
4. 4.24.8 |   Much was he daunted with that direfull stound,
4. 4.24.9 | That scarse he him vpheld from falling in a sound.

4. 4.25.1 | Yet as he might, himselfe he soft withdrew
4. 4.25.2 |   Out of the field, that none perceiu'd it plaine,
4. 4.25.3 |   Then gan the part of Chalengers anew
4. 4.25.4 |   To range the field, and victorlike to raine,
4. 4.25.5 |   That none against them battell durst maintaine.
4. 4.25.6 |   By that the gloomy euening on them fell,
4. 4.25.7 |   That forced them from fighting to refraine,
4. 4.25.8 |   And trumpets sound to cease did them compell,
4. 4.25.9 | So \Satyrane\ that day was iudg'd to beare the bell.

4. 4.26.1 | The morrow next the Turney gan anew,
4. 4.26.2 |   And with the first the hardy \Satyrane\
4. 4.26.3 |   Appear'd in place, with all his noble crew,
4. 4.26.4 |   On th'=other side, full many a warlike swaine,
4. 4.26.5 |   Assembled were, that glorious prize to gaine.
4. 4.26.6 |   But mongst them all, was not Sir \Triamond\,
4. 4.26.7 |   Vnable he new battell to darraine,
4. 4.26.8 |   Through grieuaunce of his late receiued wound,
4. 4.26.9 | That doubly did him grieue, when so himselfe he found.

4. 4.27.1 | Which \Cambell\ seeing, though he could not salue,
4. 4.27.2 |   Ne done vndoe, yet for to salue his name,
4. 4.27.3 |   And purchase honour in his friends behalue,
4. 4.27.4 |   This goodly counterfesaunce he did frame.
4. 4.27.5 |   The shield and armes well knowne to be the same,
4. 4.27.6 |   Which \Triamond\ had worne, vnwares to wight,
4. 4.27.7 |   And to his friend vnwist, for doubt of blame,
4. 4.27.8 |   If he misdid, he on himselfe did dight,
4. 4.27.9 | That none could him discerne, and so went forth to fight.

4. 4.28.1 | There \Satyrane\ Lord of the field he found,
4. 4.28.2 |   Triumphing in great ioy and iolity;
4. 4.28.3 |   Gainst whom none able was to stand on ground;
4. 4.28.4 |   That much he gan his glorie to enuy,
4. 4.28.5 |   And cast t'=auenge his friends indignity.
4. 4.28.6 |   A mightie speare eftsoones at him he bent;
4. 4.28.7 |   Who seeing him come on so furiously,
4. 4.28.8 |   Met him mid-way with equall hardiment,
4. 4.28.9 | That forcibly to ground they both together went.

4. 4.29.1 | They vp againe them selues can lightly reare,
4. 4.29.2 |   And to their tryed swords them selues betake;
4. 4.29.3 |   With which they wrought such wondrous maruels there,
4. 4.29.4 |   That all the rest it did amazed make,
4. 4.29.5 |   Ne any dar'd their perill to partake;
4. 4.29.6 |   Now cuffling close, now chacing to and fro,
4. 4.29.7 |   Now hurtling round aduantage for to take:
4. 4.29.8 |   As two wild Boares together grapling go,
4. 4.29.9 | Chaufing and foming choler each against his fo.

4. 4.30.1 | So as they courst, and turneyd here and theare,
4. 4.30.2 |   It chaunst Sir \Satyrane\ his steed at last,
4. 4.30.3 |   Whether through foundring or through sodein feare
4. 4.30.4 |   To stumble, that his rider nigh he cast;
4. 4.30.5 |   Which vauntage \Cambell\ did pursue so fast,
4. 4.30.6 |   That ere him selfe he had recouered well,
4. 4.30.7 |   So sore he sowst him on the compast creast,
4. 4.30.8 |   That forced him to leaue his loftie sell,
4. 4.30.9 | And rudely tumbling downe vnder his horse feete fell.

4. 4.31.1 | Lightly \Cambello\ leapt downe from his steed,
4. 4.31.2 |   For to haue rent his shield and armes away,
4. 4.31.3 |   That whylome wont to be the victors meed;
4. 4.31.4 |   When all vnwares he felt an hideous sway
4. 4.31.5 |   Of many swords, that lode on him did lay.
4. 4.31.6 |   An hundred knights had him enclosed round,
4. 4.31.7 |   To rescue \Satyrane\ out of his pray;
4. 4.31.8 |   All which at once huge strokes on him did pound,
4. 4.31.9 | In hope to take him prisoner, where he stood on ground.

4. 4.32.1 | He with their multitude was nought dismayd,
4. 4.32.2 |   But with stout courage turnd vpon them all,
4. 4.32.3 |   And with his brondiron round about him layd;
4. 4.32.4 |   Of which he dealt large almes, as did befall:
4. 4.32.5 |   Like as a Lion that by chaunce doth fall
4. 4.32.6 |   Into the hunters toile, doth rage and rore,
4. 4.32.7 |   In royall heart disdaining to be thrall.
4. 4.32.8 |   But all in vaine: for what might one do more?
4. 4.32.9 | They haue him taken captiue, though it grieue him sore.

4. 4.33.1 | Whereof when newes to \Triamond\ was brought,
4. 4.33.2 |   There as he lay, his wound he soone forgot,
4. 4.33.3 |   And starting vp, streight for his armour sought:
4. 4.33.4 |   In vaine he sought; for there he found it not;
4. 4.33.5 |   \Cambello\ it away before had got:
4. 4.33.6 |   \Cambelloes\ armes therefore he on him threw,
4. 4.33.7 |   And lightly issewd forth to take his lot.
4. 4.33.8 |   There he in troupe found all that warlike crew,
4. 4.33.9 | Leading his friend away, full sorie to his vew.

4. 4.34.1 | Into the thickest of that knightly preasse
4. 4.34.2 |   He thrust, and smote downe all that was betweene,
4. 4.34.3 |   Caried with feruent zeale, ne did he ceasse,
4. 4.34.4 |   Till that he came, where he had \Cambell\ seene,
4. 4.34.5 |   Like captive thral two other Knights atweene,
4. 4.34.6 |   There he amongst them cruell hauocke makes,
4. 4.34.7 |   That they which lead him, soone enforced beene
4. 4.34.8 |   To let him loose, to saue their proper stakes,
4. 4.34.9 | Who being freed, from one a weapon fiercely takes.

4. 4.35.1 | With that he driues at them with dreadfull might,
4. 4.35.2 |   Both in remembrance of his friends late harme,
4. 4.35.3 |   And in reuengement of his owne despight,
4. 4.35.4 |   So both together giue a new allarme,
4. 4.35.5 |   As if but now the battell wexed warme.
4. 4.35.6 |   As when two greedy Wolues doe breake by force
4. 4.35.7 |   Into an heard, farre from the husband farme,
4. 4.35.8 |   They spoile and rauine without all remorse,
4. 4.35.9 | So did these two through all the field their foes enforce.

4. 4.36.1 | Fiercely they followd on their bolde emprize,
4. 4.36.2 |   Till trumpets sound did warne them all to rest;
4. 4.36.3 |   Then all with one consent did yeeld the prize
4. 4.36.4 |   To \Triamond\ and \Cambell\ as the best.
4. 4.36.5 |   But \Triamond\ to \Cambell\ it relest.
4. 4.36.6 |   And \Cambell\ it to \Triamond\ transferd;
4. 4.36.7 |   Each labouring t'=aduance the others gest,
4. 4.36.8 |   And make his praise before his owne preferd:
4. 4.36.9 | So that the doome was to another day differd.

4. 4.37.1 | The last day came, when all those knightes againe
4. 4.37.2 |   Assembled were their deedes of armes to shew.
4. 4.37.3 |   Full many deedes that day were shewed plaine:
4. 4.37.4 |   But \Satyrane\ boue all the other crew,
4. 4.37.5 |   His wondrous worth declared in all mens view.
4. 4.37.6 |   For from the first he to the last endured,
4. 4.37.7 |   And though some while Fortune from him withdrew,
4. 4.37.8 |   Yet euermore his honour he recured,
4. 4.37.9 | And with vnwearied powre his party still assured.

4. 4.38.1 | Ne was there Knight that euer thought of armes,
4. 4.38.2 |   But that his vtmost prowesse there made knowen,
4. 4.38.3 |   That by their many wounds, and carelesse harmes,
4. 4.38.4 |   By shiuered speares, and swords all vnder strowen,
4. 4.38.5 |   By scattered shields was easie to be showen.
4. 4.38.6 |   There might ye see loose steeds at randon ronne,
4. 4.38.7 |   Whose luckelesse riders late were ouerthrowen;
4. 4.38.8 |   And squiers make hast to helpe their Lords fordonne,
4. 4.38.9 | But still the Knights of Maidenhead the better wonne.

4. 4.39.1 | Till that there entred on the other side,
4. 4.39.2 |   A straunger knight, from whence no man could reed,
4. 4.39.3 |   In quyent disguise, full hard to be descride.
4. 4.39.4 |   For all his armour was like saluage weed,
4. 4.39.5 |   With woody mosse bedight, and all his steed
4. 4.39.6 |   With oaken leaues attrapt, that seemed fit
4. 4.39.7 |   For saluage wight, and thereto well agreed
4. 4.39.8 |   His word, which on his ragged shield was writ,
4. 4.39.9 | \Saluagesse sans finesse\, shewing secret wit.

4. 4.40.1 | He at his first incomming, charg'd his spere
4. 4.40.2 |   At him, that first appeared in his sight:
4. 4.40.3 |   That was to weet, the stout Sir \Sangliere\,
4. 4.40.4 |   Who well was knowen to be a valiant Knight,
4. 4.40.5 |   Approued oft in many a perlous fight.
4. 4.40.6 |   Him at the first encounter downe he smote,
4. 4.40.7 |   And ouerbore beyond his crouper quight,
4. 4.40.8 |   And after him another Knight, that hote
4. 4.40.9 | Sir \Brianor\, so sore, that none him life behote.

4. 4.41.1 | Then ere his hand he reard, he ouerthrew
4. 4.41.2 |   Seuen Knights one after other as they came:
4. 4.41.3 |   And when his speare was brust, his sword he drew,
4. 4.41.4 |   The instrument of wrath, and with the same
4. 4.41.5 |   Far'd like a lyon in his bloodie game,
4. 4.41.6 |   Hewing, and slashing shields, and helmets bright,
4. 4.41.7 |   And beating downe, what euer nigh him came,
4. 4.41.8 |   That euery one gan shun his dreadfull sight,
4. 4.41.9 | No lesse then death it selfe, in daungerous affright.

4. 4.42.1 | Much wondred all men, what, or whence he came,
4. 4.42.2 |   That did amongst the troupes so tyrannize;
4. 4.42.3 |   And each of other gan inquire his name.
4. 4.42.4 |   But when they could not learne it by no wize,
4. 4.42.5 |   Most answerable to his wyld disguize
4. 4.42.6 |   It seemed, him to terme the saluage knight.
4. 4.42.7 |   But certes his right name was otherwize,
4. 4.42.8 |   Though knowne to few, that \Arthegall\ he hight,
4. 4.42.9 | The doughtiest knight that liv'd that day, and most of might.

4. 4.43.1 | Thus was Sir \Satyrane\ with all his band
4. 4.43.2 |   By his sole manhood and atchieuement stout
4. 4.43.3 |   Dismayd, that none of them in field durst stand,
4. 4.43.4 |   But beaten were, and chased all about.
4. 4.43.5 |   So he continued all that day throughout,
4. 4.43.6 |   Till euening, that the Sunne gan downward bend.
4. 4.43.7 |   Then rushed forth out of the thickest rout
4. 4.43.8 |   A stranger knight, that did his glorie shend:
4. 4.43.9 | So nought may be esteemed happie till the end.

4. 4.44.1 | He at his entrance charg'd his powrefull speare
4. 4.44.2 |   At \Artegall\, in middest of his pryde,
4. 4.44.3 |   And therewith smote him on his Vmbriere
4. 4.44.4 |   So sore, that tombling backe, he downe did slyde
4. 4.44.5 |   Ouer his horses taile aboue a stryde;
4. 4.44.6 |   Whence litle lust he had to rise againe.
4. 4.44.7 |   Which \Cambell\ seeing, much the same enuyde,
4. 4.44.8 |   And ran at him with all his might and maine;
4. 4.44.9 | But shortly was likewise seene lying on the plaine.

4. 4.45.1 | Whereat full inly wroth was \Triamond\,
4. 4.45.2 |   And cast t'=auenge the shame doen to his freend:
4. 4.45.3 |   But by his friend himselfe eke soone he fond,
4. 4.45.4 |   In no lesse neede of helpe, then him he weend.
4. 4.45.5 |   All which when \Blandamour\ from end to end
4. 4.45.6 |   Beheld, he woxe therewith displeased sore,
4. 4.45.7 |   And thought in mind it shortly to amend:
4. 4.45.8 |   His speare he feutred, and at him it bore;
4. 4.45.9 | But with no better fortune, then the rest afore.

4. 4.46.1 | Full many others at him likewise ran:
4. 4.46.2 |   But all of them likewise dismounted were,
4. 4.46.3 |   Ne certes wonder; for no powre of man
4. 4.46.4 |   Could bide the force of that enchaunted speare,
4. 4.46.5 |   The which this famous \Britomart\ did beare;
4. 4.46.6 |   With which she wondrous deeds of arms atchieued,
4. 4.46.7 |   And ouerthrew, what euer came her neare,
4. 4.46.8 |   That all those stranger knights full sore agrieued,
4. 4.46.9 | And that late weaker band of chalengers relieued.

4. 4.47.1 | Like as in sommers day when raging heat
4. 4.47.2 |   Doth burne the earth, and boyled riuers drie,
4. 4.47.3 |   That all brute beasts forst to refraine fro meat,
4. 4.47.4 |   Doe hunt for shade, where shrowded they may lie,
4. 4.47.5 |   And missing it, faine from themselues to flie;
4. 4.47.6 |   All trauellers tormented are with paine:
4. 4.47.7 |   A watry cloud doth ouercast the skie,
4. 4.47.8 |   And poureth forth a sudden shoure of raine,
4. 4.47.9 | That all the wretched world recomforteth againe.

4. 4.48.1 | So did the warlike \Britomart\ restore
4. 4.48.2 |   The prize, to knights of Maydenhead that day,
4. 4.48.3 |   Which else was like to haue bene lost, and bore
4. 4.48.4 |   The prayse of prowesse from them all away.
4. 4.48.5 |   Then shrilling trompets loudly gan to bray,
4. 4.48.6 |   And bad them leaue their labours and long toyle,
4. 4.48.7 |   To ioyous feast and other gentle play,
4. 4.48.8 |   Where beauties prize shold win that pretious spoyle:
4. 4.48.9 | Where I with sound of trompe will also rest a whyle.


4. 5. A.1 | \The Ladies for the girdle striue\
4. 5. A.2 |   \of famous Florimell:\
4. 5. A.3 | \Scudamour comming to Cares house,\
4. 5. A.4 |   \doth sleepe from him expell.\

4. 5. 1.1 | It hath bene through all ages euer seene,
4. 5. 1.2 |   That with the praise of armes and cheualrie,
4. 5. 1.3 |   The prize of beautie still hath ioyned beene;
4. 5. 1.4 |   And that for reasons speciall priuitie:
4. 5. 1.5 |   For either doth on other much relie.
4. 5. 1.6 |   For he me seemes most fit the faire to serue,
4. 5. 1.7 |   That can her best defend from villenie;
4. 5. 1.8 |   And she most fit his seruice doth deserue,
4. 5. 1.9 | That fairest is and from her faith will neuer swerue.

4. 5. 2.1 | So fitly now here commeth next in place,
4. 5. 2.2 |   After the proofe of prowesse ended well,
4. 5. 2.3 |   The controuerse of beauties soueraine grace;
4. 5. 2.4 |   In which to her that doth the most excell,
4. 5. 2.5 |   Shall fall the girdle of faire \Florimell\:
4. 5. 2.6 |   That many wish to win for glorie vaine,
4. 5. 2.7 |   And not for vertuous vse, which some doe tell
4. 5. 2.8 |   That glorious belt did in it selfe containe,
4. 5. 2.9 | Which Ladies ought to loue, and seeke for to obtaine.

4. 5. 3.1 | That girdle gaue the vertue of chast loue,
4. 5. 3.2 |   And wiuehood true, to all that did it beare;
4. 5. 3.3 |   But whosoeuer contrarie doth proue,
4. 5. 3.4 |   Might not the same about her middle weare,
4. 5. 3.5 |   But it would loose, or else a sunder teare.
4. 5. 3.6 |   Whilome it was (as Faeries wont report)
4. 5. 3.7 |   Dame \Venus\ girdle, by her steemed deare,
4. 5. 3.8 |   What time she vsd to liue in wiuely sort;
4. 5. 3.9 | But layd aside, when so she vsd her looser sport.

4. 5. 4.1 | Her husband \Vulcan\ whylome for her sake,
4. 5. 4.2 |   When first he loued her with heart entire,
4. 5. 4.3 |   This pretious ornament they say did make,
4. 5. 4.4 |   And wrought in \Lemno\ with vnquenched fire:
4. 5. 4.5 |   And afterwards did for her loues first hire,
4. 5. 4.6 |   Giue it to her, for euer to remaine,
4. 5. 4.7 |   Therewith to bind lasciuious desire,
4. 5. 4.8 |   And loose affections streightly to restraine;
4. 5. 4.9 | Which vertue it for euer after did retaine.

4. 5. 5.1 | The same one day, when she her selfe disposd
4. 5. 5.2 |   To visite her beloued Paramoure,
4. 5. 5.3 |   The God of warre, she from her middle loosd,
4. 5. 5.4 |   And left behind her in her secret bowre,
4. 5. 5.5 |   On \Acidalian\ mount, where many an howre
4. 5. 5.6 |   She with the pleasant \Graces\ wont to play.
4. 5. 5.7 |   There \Florimell\ in her first ages flowre
4. 5. 5.8 |   Was fostered by those \Graces\, (as they say)
4. 5. 5.9 | And brought with her from thence that goodly belt away.


4. 5. 6.1 | That goodly belt was \Cestus\ hight by name,
4. 5. 6.2 |   And as her life by her esteemed deare.
4. 5. 6.3 |   No wonder then, if that to winne the same
4. 5. 6.4 |   So many Ladies sought, as shall appeare;
4. 5. 6.5 |   For pearelesse she was thought, that did it beare.
4. 5. 6.6 |   And now by this their feast all being ended,
4. 5. 6.7 |   The iudges which thereto selected were,
4. 5. 6.8 |   Into the Martian field adowne descended,
4. 5. 6.9 | To deeme this doutfull case, for which they all contended.

4. 5. 7.1 | But first was question made, which of those Knights
4. 5. 7.2 |   That lately turneyd, had the wager wonne:
4. 5. 7.3 |   There was it iudged by those worthie wights,
4. 5. 7.4 |   That \Satyrane\ the first day best had donne:
4. 5. 7.5 |   For he last ended, hauing first begonne.
4. 5. 7.6 |   The second was to \Triamond\ behight,
4. 5. 7.7 |   For that he sau'd the victour from fordonne:
4. 5. 7.8 |   For \Cambell\ victour was in all mens sight,
4. 5. 7.9 | Till by mishap he in his foemens hand did light.

4. 5. 8.1 | The third dayes prize vnto that straunger Knight,
4. 5. 8.2 |   Whom all men term'd Knight of the Hebene speare,
4. 5. 8.3 |   To \Britomart\ was giuen by good right;
4. 5. 8.4 |   For that with puissant stroke she downe did beare
4. 5. 8.5 |   The \Saluage\ Knight, that victour was whileare,
4. 5. 8.6 |   And all the rest, which had the best afore,
4. 5. 8.7 |   And to the last vnconquer'd did appeare;
4. 5. 8.8 |   For last is deemed best. To her therefore
4. 5. 8.9 | The fayrest Ladie was adiudgd for Paramore.

4. 5. 9.1 | But thereat greatly grudged \Arthegall\,
4. 5. 9.2 |   And much repynd, that both of victors meede,
4. 5. 9.3 |   And eke of honour she did him forestall.
4. 5. 9.4 |   Yet mote he not withstand, what was decreede;
4. 5. 9.5 |   But inly thought of that despightfull deede
4. 5. 9.6 |   Fit time t'=awaite auenged for to bee.
4. 5. 9.7 |   This being ended thus, and all agreed,
4. 5. 9.8 |   Then next ensew'd the Paragon to see
4. 5. 9.9 | Of beauties praise, and yeeld the fayrest her due fee.

4. 5.10.1 | Then first \Cambello\ brought vnto their view
4. 5.10.2 |   His faire \Cambina\, couered with a veale;
4. 5.10.3 |   Which being once withdrawne, most perfect hew
4. 5.10.4 |   And passing beautie did eftsoones reueale,
4. 5.10.5 |   That able was weake harts away to steale.
4. 5.10.6 |   Next did Sir \Triamond\ vnto their sight
4. 5.10.7 |   The face of his deare \Canacee\ vnheale;
4. 5.10.8 |   Whose beauties beame eftsoones did shine so bright,
4. 5.10.9 | That daz'd the eyes of all, as with exceeding light.

4. 5.11.1 | And after her did \Paridell\ produce
4. 5.11.2 |   His false \Duessa\, that she might be seene,
4. 5.11.3 |   Who with her forged beautie did seduce
4. 5.11.4 |   The hearts of some, that fairest her did weene;
4. 5.11.5 |   As diuerse wits affected diuers beene.
4. 5.11.6 |   Then did Sir \Ferramont\ vnto them shew
4. 5.11.7 |   His \Lucida\, that was full faire and sheene,
4. 5.11.8 |   And after these an hundred Ladies moe
4. 5.11.9 | Appear'd in place, the which each other did outgoe.

4. 5.12.1 | All which who so dare thinke for to enchace,
4. 5.12.2 |   Him needeth sure a golden pen I weene,
4. 5.12.3 |   To tell the feature of each goodly face.
4. 5.12.4 |   For since the day that they created beene,
4. 5.12.5 |   So many heauenly faces were not seene
4. 5.12.6 |   Assembled in one place: ne he that thought
4. 5.12.7 |   For \Chian\ folke to pourtraict beauties Queene,
4. 5.12.8 |   By view of all the fairest to him brought,
4. 5.12.9 | So many faire did see, as here he might haue sought.

4. 5.13.1 | At last the most redoubted \Britonesse\,
4. 5.13.2 |   Her louely \Amoret\ did open shew;
4. 5.13.3 |   Whose face discouered, plainely did expresse
4. 5.13.4 |   The heauenly pourtraict of bright Angels hew.
4. 5.13.5 |   Well weened all, which her that time did vew,
4. 5.13.6 |   That she should surely beare the bell away,
4. 5.13.7 |   Till \Blandamour\, who thought he had the trew
4. 5.13.8 |   And very \Florimell\, did her display:
4. 5.13.9 | The sight of whom once seene did all the rest dismay.

4. 5.14.1 | For all afore that seemed fayre and bright,
4. 5.14.2 |   Now base and contemptible did appeare,
4. 5.14.3 |   Compar'd to her, that shone as Phebes light,
4. 5.14.4 |   Amongst the lesser starres in euening cleare.
4. 5.14.5 |   All that her saw with wonder rauisht weare,
4. 5.14.6 |   And weend no mortall creature she should bee,
4. 5.14.7 |   But some celestiall shape, that flesh did beare:
4. 5.14.8 |   Yet all were glad there \Florimell\ to see;
4. 5.14.9 | Yet thought that \Florimell\ was not so faire as shee.

4. 5.15.1 | As guilefull Goldsmith that by secret skill,
4. 5.15.2 |   With golden foyle doth finely ouer spred
4. 5.15.3 |   Some baser metall, which commend he will
4. 5.15.4 |   Vnto the vulgar for good gold insted,
4. 5.15.5 |   He much more goodly glosse thereon doth shed,
4. 5.15.6 |   To hide his falshood, then if it were trew:
4. 5.15.7 |   So hard, this Idole was to be ared,
4. 5.15.8 |   That \Florimell\ her selfe in all mens vew
4. 5.15.9 | She seem'd to passe: so forged things do fairest shew.

4. 5.16.1 | Then was that golden belt by doome of all
4. 5.16.2 |   Graunted to her, as to the fayrest Dame.
4. 5.16.3 |   Which being brought, about her middle small
4. 5.16.4 |   They thought to gird, as best it her became;
4. 5.16.5 |   But by no meanes they could it thereto frame.
4. 5.16.6 |   For euer as they fastned it, it loos'd
4. 5.16.7 |   And fell away, as feeling secret blame.
4. 5.16.8 |   Full oft about her wast she it enclos'd;
4. 5.16.9 | And it as oft was from about her wast disclos'd.

4. 5.17.1 | That all men wondred at the vncouth sight,
4. 5.17.2 |   And each one thought, as to their fancies came.
4. 5.17.3 |   But she her selfe did thinke it doen for spight,
4. 5.17.4 |   And touched was with secret wrath and shame
4. 5.17.5 |   Therewith, as thing deuiz'd her to defame.
4. 5.17.6 |   Then many other Ladies likewise tride,
4. 5.17.7 |   About their tender loynes to knit the same;
4. 5.17.8 |   But it would not on none of them abide,
4. 5.17.9 | But when they thought it fast, eftsoones it was vntide.

4. 5.18.1 | Which when that scornefull \Squire of Dames\ did vew,
4. 5.18.2 |   He lowdly gan to laugh, and thus to iest;
4. 5.18.3 |   Alas for pittie that so faire a crew,
4. 5.18.4 |   As like can not be seene from East to West,
4. 5.18.5 |   Cannot find one this girdle to inuest.
4. 5.18.6 |   Fie on the man, that did it first inuent,
4. 5.18.7 |   To shame vs all with this, \Vngirt vnblest\.
4. 5.18.8 |   Let neuer Ladie to his loue assent,
4. 5.18.9 | That hath this day so many so vnmanly shent.

4. 5.19.1 | Thereat all Knights gan laugh, and Ladies lowre:
4. 5.19.2 |   Till that at last the gentle \Amoret\
4. 5.19.3 |   Likewise assayd, to proue that girdles powre;
4. 5.19.4 |   And hauing it about her middle set,
4. 5.19.5 |   Did find it fit, withouten breach or let.
4. 5.19.6 |   Whereat the rest gan greatly to enuie:
4. 5.19.7 |   But \Florimell\ exceedingly did fret,
4. 5.19.8 |   And snatching from her hand halfe angrily
4. 5.19.9 | The belt againe, about her bodie gan it tie.

4. 5.20.1 | Yet nathemore would it her bodie fit;
4. 5.20.2 |   Yet nathelesse to her, as her dew right,
4. 5.20.3 |   It yeelded was by them, that iudged it:
4. 5.20.4 |   And she her selfe adiudged to the Knight,
4. 5.20.5 |   That bore the Hebene speare, as wonne in fight.
4. 5.20.6 |   But \Britomart\ would not thereto assent,
4. 5.20.7 |   Ne her owne \Amoret\ forgoe so light
4. 5.20.8 |   For that strange Dame, whose beauties wonderment
4. 5.20.9 | She lesse esteem'd, then th'=others vertuous gouernment.

4. 5.21.1 | Whom when the rest did see her to refuse,
4. 5.21.2 |   They were full glad, in hope themselues to get her:
4. 5.21.3 |   Yet at her choice they all did greatly muse.
4. 5.21.4 |   But after that the Iudges did arret her
4. 5.21.5 |   Vnto the second best, that lou'd her better;
4. 5.21.6 |   That was the \Saluage\ Knight: but he was gone
4. 5.21.7 |   In great displeasure, that he could not get her.
4. 5.21.8 |   Then was she iudged \Triamond\ his one;
4. 5.21.9 | But \Triamond\ lou'd \Canacee\, and other none.

4. 5.22.1 | Tho vnto \Satyran\ she was adiudged,
4. 5.22.2 |   Who was right glad to gaine so goodly meed:
4. 5.22.3 |   But \Blandamour\ thereat full greatly grudged,
4. 5.22.4 |   And litle prays'd his labours euill speed,
4. 5.22.5 |   That for to winne the saddle, lost the steed.
4. 5.22.6 |   Ne lesse thereat did \Paridell\ complaine,
4. 5.22.7 |   And thought t'=appeale from that, which was decreed,
4. 5.22.8 |   To single combat with Sir \Satyrane\.
4. 5.22.9 | Thereto him \Ate\ stird, new discord to maintaine.

4. 5.23.1 | And eke with these, full many other Knights
4. 5.23.2 |   She through her wicked working did incense,
4. 5.23.3 |   Her to demaund, and chalenge as their rights,
4. 5.23.4 |   Deserued for their perils recompense.
4. 5.23.5 |   Amongst the rest with boastfull vaine pretense
4. 5.23.6 |   Stept \Braggadochio\ forth, and as his thrall
4. 5.23.7 |   Her claym'd, by him in battell wonne long sens:
4. 5.23.8 |   Whereto her selfe he did to witnesse call;
4. 5.23.9 | Who being askt, accordingly confessed all.

4. 5.24.1 | Thereat exceeding wroth was \Satyran\;
4. 5.24.2 |   And wroth with \Satyran\ was \Blandamour\;
4. 5.24.3 |   And wroth with \Blandamour\ was \Eriuan\;
4. 5.24.4 |   And at them both Sir \Paridell\ did loure.
4. 5.24.5 |   So all together stird vp strifull stoure,
4. 5.24.6 |   And readie were new battell to darraine.
4. 5.24.7 |   Each one profest to be her paramoure,
4. 5.24.8 |   And vow'd with speare and shield it to maintaine;
4. 5.24.9 | Ne Iudges powre, ne reasons rule mote them restraine.

4. 5.25.1 | Which troublous stirre when \Satyrane\ auiz'd,
4. 5.25.2 |   He gan to cast how to appease the same,
4. 5.25.3 |   And to accord them all, this meanes deuiz'd:
4. 5.25.4 |   First in the midst to set that fayrest Dame,
4. 5.25.5 |   To whom each one his chalenge should disclame,
4. 5.25.6 |   And he himselfe his right would eke releasse:
4. 5.25.7 |   Then looke to whom she voluntarie came,
4. 5.25.8 |   He should without disturbance her possesse:
4. 5.25.9 | Sweete is the loue that comes alone with willingnesse.

4. 5.26.1 | They all agreed, and then that snowy Mayd
4. 5.26.2 |   Was in the middest plast among them all;
4. 5.26.3 |   All on her gazing wisht, and vowd, and prayd,
4. 5.26.4 |   And to the Queene of beautie close did call,
4. 5.26.5 |   That she vnto their portion might befall.
4. 5.26.6 |   Then when she long had lookt vpon each one,
4. 5.26.7 |   As though she wished to haue pleasd them all,
4. 5.26.8 |   At last to \Braggadochio\ selfe alone
4. 5.26.9 | She came of her accord, in spight of all his fone.

4. 5.27.1 | Which when they all beheld they chaft and rag'd,
4. 5.27.2 |   And woxe nigh mad for very harts despight,
4. 5.27.3 |   That from reuenge their willes they scarse asswag'd:
4. 5.27.4 |   Some thought from him her to haue reft by might;
4. 5.27.5 |   Some proffer made with him for her to fight.
4. 5.27.6 |   But he nought car'd for all that they could say:
4. 5.27.7 |   For he their words as wind esteemed light.
4. 5.27.8 |   Yet not fit place he thought it there to stay,
4. 5.27.9 | But secretly from thence that night her bore away.

4. 5.28.1 | They which remaynd, so soone as they perceiu'd,
4. 5.28.2 |   That she was gone, departed thence with speed,
4. 5.28.3 |   And follow'd them, in mind her to haue reau'd
4. 5.28.4 |   From wight vnworthie of so noble meed.
4. 5.28.5 |   In which poursuit how each one did succeede,
4. 5.28.6 |   Shall else be told in order, as it fell.
4. 5.28.7 |   But now of \Britomart\ it here doth neede,
4. 5.28.8 |   The hard aduentures and strange haps to tell;
4. 5.28.9 | Since with the rest she went not after \Florimell\.

4. 5.29.1 | For soone as she them saw to discord set,
4. 5.29.2 |   Her list no longer in that place abide;
4. 5.29.3 |   But taking with her louely \Amoret\,
4. 5.29.4 |   Vpon her first aduenture forth did ride,
4. 5.29.5 |   To seeke her lou'd, making blind loue her guide.
4. 5.29.6 |   Vnluckie Mayd to seeke her enemie,
4. 5.29.7 |   Vnluckie Mayd to seeke him farre and wide,
4. 5.29.8 |   Whom, when he was vnto her selfe most nie,
4. 5.29.9 | She through his late disguizement could him not descrie.

4. 5.30.1 | So much the more her griefe, the more her toyle:
4. 5.30.2 |   Yet neither toyle nor griefe she once did spare,
4. 5.30.3 |   In seeking him, that should her paine assoyle;
4. 5.30.4 |   Whereto great comfort in her sad misfare
4. 5.30.5 |   Was \Amoret\, companion of her care:
4. 5.30.6 |   Who likewise sought her louer long miswent,
4. 5.30.7 |   The gentle \Scudamour\, whose hart whileare
4. 5.30.8 |   That stryfull hag with gealous discontent
4. 5.30.9 | Had fild, that he to fell reueng was fully bent.

4. 5.31.1 | Bent to reuenge on blamelesse \Britomart\
4. 5.31.2 |   The crime, which cursed \Ate\ kindled earst,
4. 5.31.3 |   The which like thornes did pricke his gealous hart,
4. 5.31.4 |   And through his soule like poysned arrow perst,
4. 5.31.5 |   That by no reason it might be reuerst,
4. 5.31.6 |   For ought that \Glauce\ could or doe or say.
4. 5.31.7 |   For aye the more that she the same reherst,
4. 5.31.8 |   The more it gauld, and grieu'd him night and day,
4. 5.31.9 | That nought but dire reuenge his anger mote defray.

4. 5.32.1 | So as they trauelled, the drouping night
4. 5.32.2 |   Couered with cloudie storme and bitter showre,
4. 5.32.3 |   That dreadfull seem'd to euery liuing wight,
4. 5.32.4 |   Vpon them fell, before her timely howre;
4. 5.32.5 |   That forced them to seeke some couert bowre,
4. 5.32.6 |   Where they might hide their heads in quiet rest,
4. 5.32.7 |   And shrowd their persons from that stormie stowre.
4. 5.32.8 |   Not farre away, not meete for any guest
4. 5.32.9 | They spide a little cottage, like some poore mans nest.

4. 5.33.1 | Vnder a steepe hilles side it placed was,
4. 5.33.2 |   There where the mouldred earth had cav'd the banke;
4. 5.33.3 |   And fast beside a little brooke did pas
4. 5.33.4 |   Of muddie water, that like puddle stanke,
4. 5.33.5 |   By which few crooked sallowes grew in ranke:
4. 5.33.6 |   Whereto approaching nigh, they heard the sound
4. 5.33.7 |   Of many yron hammers beating ranke,
4. 5.33.8 |   And answering their wearie turnes around,
4. 5.33.9 | That seemed some blacksmith dwelt in that desert ground.

4. 5.34.1 | There entring in, they found the goodman selfe,
4. 5.34.2 |   Full busily vnto his worke ybent;
4. 5.34.3 |   Who was to weet a wretched wearish elfe,
4. 5.34.4 |   With hollow eyes and rawbone cheekes forspent,
4. 5.34.5 |   As if he had in prison long bene pent:
4. 5.34.6 |   Full blacke and griesly did his face appeare,
4. 5.34.7 |   Besmeard with smoke that nigh his eye-sight blent;
4. 5.34.8 |   With rugged beard, and hoarie shagged heare,
4. 5.34.9 | The which he neuer wont to combe, or comely sheare.

4. 5.35.1 | Rude was his garment, and to rags all rent,
4. 5.35.2 |   Ne better had he, ne for better cared:
4. 5.35.3 |   With blistred hands emongst the cinders brent,
4. 5.35.4 |   And fingers filthie, with long nayles vnpared,
4. 5.35.5 |   Right fit to rend the food, on which he fared.
4. 5.35.6 |   His name was \Care\; a blacksmith by his trade,
4. 5.35.7 |   That neither day nor night from working spared,
4. 5.35.8 |   But to small purpose yron wedges made;
4. 5.35.9 | Those be vnquiet thoughts, that carefull minds inuade.

4. 5.36.1 | In which his worke he had sixe seruants prest,
4. 5.36.2 |   About the Andvile standing euermore,
4. 5.36.3 |   With huge great hammers, that did neuer rest
4. 5.36.4 |   From heaping stroakes, which thereon soused sore:
4. 5.36.5 |   All sixe strong groomes, but one then other more;
4. 5.36.6 |   For by degrees they all were disagreed;
4. 5.36.7 |   So likewise did the hammers which they bore,
4. 5.36.8 |   Like belles in greatnesse orderly succeed,
4. 5.36.9 | That he which was the last, the first did farre exceede.

4. 5.37.1 | He like a monstrous Gyant seem'd in sight,
4. 5.37.2 |   Farre passing \Bronteus\, or \Pyracmon\ great,
4. 5.37.3 |   The which in \Lipari\ doe day and night
4. 5.37.4 |   Frame thunderbolts for \Ioues\ auengefull threate.
4. 5.37.5 |   So dreadfully he did the anduile beat,
4. 5.37.6 |   That seem'd to dust he shortly would it driue:
4. 5.37.7 |   So huge his hammer and so fierce his heat,
4. 5.37.8 |   That seem'd a rocke of Diamond it could riue,
4. 5.37.9 | And rend a sunder quite, if he thereto list striue.

4. 5.38.1 | Sir \Scudamour\ there entring, much admired
4. 5.38.2 |   The manner of their worke and wearie paine;
4. 5.38.3 |   And hauing long beheld, at last enquired
4. 5.38.4 |   The cause and end thereof: but all in vaine;
4. 5.38.5 |   For they for nought would from their worke refraine,
4. 5.38.6 |   Ne let his speeches come vnto their eare.
4. 5.38.7 |   And eke the breathfull bellowes blew amaine,
4. 5.38.8 |   Like to the Northren winde, that none could heare:
4. 5.38.9 | Those \Pensifenesse\ did moue; and \Sighes\ the bellows weare.

4. 5.39.1 | Which when that warriour saw, he said no more,
4. 5.39.2 |   But in his armour layd him downe to rest:
4. 5.39.3 |   To rest he layd him downe vpon the flore,
4. 5.39.4 |   (Whylome for ventrous Knights the bedding best)
4. 5.39.5 |   And thought his wearie limbs to haue redrest.
4. 5.39.6 |   And that old aged Dame, his faithfull Squire,
4. 5.39.7 |   Her feeble ioynts layd eke a downe to rest;
4. 5.39.8 |   That needed much her weake age to desire,
4. 5.39.9 | After so long a trauell, which them both did tire.

4. 5.40.1 | There lay Sir \Scudamour\ long while expecting,
4. 5.40.2 |   When gentle sleepe his heauie eyes would close;
4. 5.40.3 |   Oft chaunging sides, and oft new place electing,
4. 5.40.4 |   Where better seem'd he mote himselfe repose;
4. 5.40.5 |   And oft in wrath he thence againe vprose;
4. 5.40.6 |   And oft in wrath he layd him downe againe.
4. 5.40.7 |   But wheresoeuer he did himselfe dispose,
4. 5.40.8 |   He by no meanes could wished ease obtaine:
4. 5.40.9 | So euery place seem'd painefull, and ech changing vaine.


4. 5.41.1 | And euermore, when he to sleepe did thinke,
4. 5.41.2 |   The hammers sound his senses did molest;
4. 5.41.3 |   And euermore, when he began to winke,
4. 5.41.4 |   The bellowes noyse disturb'd his quiet rest,
4. 5.41.5 |   Ne suffred sleepe to settle in his brest.
4. 5.41.6 |   And all the night the dogs did barke and howle
4. 5.41.7 |   About the house, at sent of stranger guest:
4. 5.41.8 |   And now the crowing Cocke, and now the Owle
4. 5.41.9 | Lowde shriking him afflicted to the very sowle.

4. 5.42.1 | And if by fortune any litle nap
4. 5.42.2 |   Vpon his heauie eye-lids chaunst to fall,
4. 5.42.3 |   Eftsoones one of those villeins him did rap
4. 5.42.4 |   Vpon his headpeece with his yron mall;
4. 5.42.5 |   That he was soone awaked therewithall,
4. 5.42.6 |   And lightly started vp as one affrayd;
4. 5.42.7 |   Or as if one him suddenly did call.
4. 5.42.8 |   So oftentimes he out of sleepe abrayd,
4. 5.42.9 | And then lay musing long, on that him ill apayd.

4. 5.43.1 | So long he muzed, and so long he lay,
4. 5.43.2 |   That at the last his wearie sprite opprest
4. 5.43.3 |   With fleshly weaknesse, which no creature may
4. 5.43.4 |   Long time resist, gaue place to kindly rest,
4. 5.43.5 |   That all his senses did full soone arrest:
4. 5.43.6 |   Yet in his soundest sleepe, his dayly feare
4. 5.43.7 |   His ydle braine gan busily molest,
4. 5.43.8 |   And made him dreame those two disloyall were:
4. 5.43.9 | The things that day most minds, at night doe most appeare.

4. 5.44.1 | With that, the wicked carle the maister Smith
4. 5.44.2 |   A paire of redwhot yron tongs did take
4. 5.44.3 |   Out of the burning cinders, and therewith
4. 5.44.4 |   Vnder his side him nipt, that forst to wake,
4. 5.44.5 |   He felt his hart for very paine to quake,
4. 5.44.6 |   And started vp auenged for to be
4. 5.44.7 |   On him, the which his quiet slomber brake:
4. 5.44.8 |   Yet looking round about him none could see;
4. 5.44.9 | Yet did the smart remaine, though he himselfe did flee.

4. 5.45.1 | In such disquiet and hartfretting payne,
4. 5.45.2 |   He all that night, that too long night did passe.
4. 5.45.3 |   And now the day out of the Ocean mayne
4. 5.45.4 |   Began to peepe aboue this earthly masse,
4. 5.45.5 |   With pearly dew sprinkling the morning grasse:
4. 5.45.6 |   Then vp he rose like heauie lumpe of lead,
4. 5.45.7 |   That in his face, as in a looking glasse,
4. 5.45.8 |   The signes of anguish one mote plainely read,
4. 5.45.9 | And ghesse the man to be dismayd with gealous dread.


4. 5.46.1 | Vnto his lofty steede he clombe anone,
4. 5.46.2 |   And forth vpon his former voiage fared,
4. 5.46.3 |   And with him eke that aged Squire attone;
4. 5.46.4 |   Who whatsoeuer perill was prepared,
4. 5.46.5 |   Both equall paines and equall perill shared:
4. 5.46.6 |   The end whereof and daungerous euent
4. 5.46.7 |   Shall for another canticle be spared.
4. 5.46.8 |   But here my wearie teeme nigh ouer spent
4. 5.46.9 | Shall breath it selfe awhile, after so long a went.


4. 6. A.1 | \Both Scudamour and Arthegall\
4. 6. A.2 |   \Doe fight with Britomart,\
4. 6. A.3 | \He sees her face; doth fall in loue,\
4. 6. A.4 |   \and soone from her depart.\

4. 6. 1.1 | What equall torment to the griefe of mind,
4. 6. 1.2 |   And pyning anguish hid in gentle hart,
4. 6. 1.3 |   That inly feeds it selfe with thoughts vnkind,
4. 6. 1.4 |   And nourisheth her owne consuming smart?
4. 6. 1.5 |   What medicine can any Leaches art
4. 6. 1.6 |   Yeeld such a sore, that doth her grieuance hide,
4. 6. 1.7 |   And will to none her maladie impart?
4. 6. 1.8 |   Such was the wound that \Scudamour\ did gride;
4. 6. 1.9 | For which \Dan Phebus\ selfe cannot a salue prouide.

4. 6. 2.1 | Who hauing left that restlesse house of \Care\,
4. 6. 2.2 |   The next day, as he on his way did ride,
4. 6. 2.3 |   Full of melancholie and sad misfare,
4. 6. 2.4 |   Through misconceipt; all vnawares espide
4. 6. 2.5 |   An armed Knight vnder a forrest side,
4. 6. 2.6 |   Sitting in shade beside his grazing steede;
4. 6. 2.7 |   Who soone as them approaching he descride,
4. 6. 2.8 |   Gan towards them to pricke with eger speede,
4. 6. 2.9 | That seem'd he was full bent to some mischieuous deede.

4. 6. 3.1 | Which \Scudamour\ perceiuing, forth issewed
4. 6. 3.2 |   To haue rencountred him in equall race;
4. 6. 3.3 |   But soone as th'=other nigh approaching, vewed
4. 6. 3.4 |   The armes he bore, his speare he gan abase,
4. 6. 3.5 |   And voide his course: at which so suddain case
4. 6. 3.6 |   He wondred much. But th'=other thus can say;
4. 6. 3.7 |   Ah gentle \Scudamour\, vnto your grace
4. 6. 3.8 |   I me submit, and you of pardon pray,
4. 6. 3.9 | That almost had against you trespassed this day.

4. 6. 4.1 | Whereto thus \Scudamour\, Small harme it were
4. 6. 4.2 |   For any knight, vpon a ventrous knight
4. 6. 4.3 |   Without displeasance for to proue his spere.
4. 6. 4.4 |   But reade you Sir, sith ye my name haue hight,
4. 6. 4.5 |   What is your owne, that I mote you requite.
4. 6. 4.6 |   Certes (sayd he) ye mote as now excuse
4. 6. 4.7 |   Me from discouering you my name aright:
4. 6. 4.8 |   For time yet serues that I the same refuse,
4. 6. 4.9 | But call ye me the \Saluage Knight\, as others vse.

4. 6. 5.1 | Then this, Sir \Saluage Knight\ (quoth he) areede;
4. 6. 5.2 |   Or doe you here within this forrest wonne,
4. 6. 5.3 |   That seemeth well to answere to your weede?
4. 6. 5.4 |   Or haue ye it for some occasion donne?
4. 6. 5.5 |   That rather seemes, sith knowen armes ye shonne.
4. 6. 5.6 |   This other day (sayd he) a stranger knight
4. 6. 5.7 |   Shame and dishonour hath vnto me donne;
4. 6. 5.8 |   On whom I waite to wreake that foule despight,
4. 6. 5.9 | When euer he this way shall passe by day or night.

4. 6. 6.1 | Shame be his meede (quoth he) that meaneth shame.
4. 6. 6.2 |   But what is he, by whom ye shamed were?
4. 6. 6.3 |   A stranger knight, sayd he, vnknowne by name,
4. 6. 6.4 |   But knowne by fame, and by an Hebene speare,
4. 6. 6.5 |   With which he all that met him, downe did beare.
4. 6. 6.6 |   He in an open Turney lately held,
4. 6. 6.7 |   Fro me the honour of that game did reare;
4. 6. 6.8 |   And hauing me all wearie earst, downe feld,
4. 6. 6.9 | The fayrest Ladie reft, and euer since withheld.

4. 6. 7.1 | When \Scudamour\ heard mention of that speare,
4. 6. 7.2 |   He wist right well, that it was \Britomart\,
4. 6. 7.3 |   The which from him his fairest loue did beare.
4. 6. 7.4 |   Tho gan he swell in euery inner part,
4. 6. 7.5 |   For fell despight, and gnaw his gealous hart,
4. 6. 7.6 |   That thus he sharply sayd; Now by my head,
4. 6. 7.7 |   Yet is not this the first vnknightly part,
4. 6. 7.8 |   Which that same knight, whom by his launce I read,
4. 6. 7.9 | Hath doen to noble knights, that many makes him dread.

4. 6. 8.1 | For lately he my loue hath fro me reft,
4. 6. 8.2 |   And eke defiled with foule villanie
4. 6. 8.3 |   The sacred pledge, which in his faith was left,
4. 6. 8.4 |   In shame of knighthood and fidelitie;
4. 6. 8.5 |   The which ere long full deare he shall abie.
4. 6. 8.6 |   And if to that auenge by you decreed
4. 6. 8.7 |   This hand may helpe, or succour ought supplie,
4. 6. 8.8 |   It shall not fayle, when so ye shall it need.
4. 6. 8.9 | So both to wreake their wrathes on \Britomart\ agreed.

4. 6. 9.1 | Whiles thus they communed, lo farre away
4. 6. 9.2 |   A Knight soft ryding towards them they spyde,
4. 6. 9.3 |   Attyr'd in forraine armes and straunge aray:
4. 6. 9.4 |   Whom when they nigh approcht, they plaine descryde
4. 6. 9.5 |   To be the same, for whom they did abyde.
4. 6. 9.6 |   Sayd then Sir \Scudamour\, Sir \Saluage\ knight
4. 6. 9.7 |   Let me this craue, sith first I was defyde,
4. 6. 9.8 |   That first I may that wrong to him requite:
4. 6. 9.9 | And if I hap to fayle, you shall recure my right.

4. 6.10.1 | Which being yeelded, he his threatfull speare
4. 6.10.2 |   Gan fewter, and against her fiercely ran.
4. 6.10.3 |   Who soone as she him saw approaching neare
4. 6.10.4 |   With so fell rage, her selfe she lightly gan
4. 6.10.5 |   To dight, to welcome him, well as she can:
4. 6.10.6 |   But entertaind him in so rude a wise,
4. 6.10.7 |   That to the ground she smote both horse and man;
4. 6.10.8 |   Whence neither greatly hasted to arise,
4. 6.10.9 | But on their common harmes together did deuise.

4. 6.11.1 | But \Artegall\ beholding his mischaunce,
4. 6.11.2 |   New matter added to his former fire;
4. 6.11.3 |   And eft auentring his steeleheaded launce,
4. 6.11.4 |   Against her rode, full of despiteous ire,
4. 6.11.5 |   That nought but spoyle and vengeance did require.
4. 6.11.6 |   But to himselfe his felonous intent
4. 6.11.7 |   Returning, disappointed his desire,
4. 6.11.8 |   Whiles vnawares his saddle he forwent,
4. 6.11.9 | And found himselfe on ground in great amazement.

4. 6.12.1 | Lightly he started vp out of that stound,
4. 6.12.2 |   And snatching forth his direfull deadly blade,
4. 6.12.3 |   Did leape to her, as doth an eger hound
4. 6.12.4 |   Thrust to an Hynd within some couert glade,
4. 6.12.5 |   Whom without perill he cannot inuade.
4. 6.12.6 |   With such fell greedines he her assayled,
4. 6.12.7 |   That though she mounted were, yet he her made
4. 6.12.8 |   To giue him ground, (so much his force preuayled)
4. 6.12.9 | And shun his mightie strokes, gainst which no armes auayled.

4. 6.13.1 | So as they coursed here and there, it chaunst
4. 6.13.2 |   That in her wheeling round, behind her crest
4. 6.13.3 |   So sorely he her strooke, that thence it glaunst
4. 6.13.4 |   Adowne her backe, the which it fairely blest
4. 6.13.5 |   From foule mischance; ne did it euer rest,
4. 6.13.6 |   Till on her horses hinder parts it fell;
4. 6.13.7 |   Where byting deepe, so deadly it imprest,
4. 6.13.8 |   That quite it chynd his backe behind the sell,
4. 6.13.9 | And to alight on foote her algates did compell.

4. 6.14.1 | Like as the lightning brond from riuen skie,
4. 6.14.2 |   Throwne out by angry \Ioue\ in his vengeance,
4. 6.14.3 |   With dreadfull force falles on some steeple hie;
4. 6.14.4 |   Which battring, downe it on the church doth glance,
4. 6.14.5 |   And teares it all with terrible mischance.
4. 6.14.6 |   Yet she no whit dismayd, her steed forsooke,
4. 6.14.7 |   And casting from her that enchaunted lance,
4. 6.14.8 |   Vnto her sword and shield her soone betooke;
4. 6.14.9 | And therewithall at him right furiously she strooke.

4. 6.15.1 | So furiously she strooke in her first heat,
4. 6.15.2 |   Whiles with long fight on foot he breathlesse was,
4. 6.15.3 |   That she him forced backward to retreat,
4. 6.15.4 |   And yeeld vnto her weapon way to pas:
4. 6.15.5 |   Whose raging rigour neither steele nor bras
4. 6.15.6 |   Could stay, but to the tender flesh it went,
4. 6.15.7 |   And pour'd the purple bloud forth on the gras;
4. 6.15.8 |   That all his mayle yriv'd, and plates yrent,
4. 6.15.9 | Shew'd all his bodie bare vnto the cruell dent.

4. 6.16.1 | At length when as he saw her hastie heat
4. 6.16.2 |   Abate, and panting breath begin to fayle,
4. 6.16.3 |   He through long sufferance growing now more great,
4. 6.16.4 |   Rose in his strength, and gan her fresh assayle,
4. 6.16.5 |   Heaping huge strokes, as thicke as showre of hayle,
4. 6.16.6 |   And lashing dreadfully at euery part,
4. 6.16.7 |   As if he thought her soule to disentrayle.
4. 6.16.8 |   Ah cruell hand, and thrise more cruell hart,
4. 6.16.9 | That workst such wrecke on her, to whom thou dearest art.

4. 6.17.1 | What yron courage euer could endure,
4. 6.17.2 |   To worke such outrage on so faire a creature?
4. 6.17.3 |   And in his madnesse thinke with hands impure
4. 6.17.4 |   To spoyle so goodly workmanship of nature,
4. 6.17.5 |   The maker selfe resembling in her feature?
4. 6.17.6 |   Certes some hellish furie, or some feend
4. 6.17.7 |   This mischiefe framd, for their first loues defeature,
4. 6.17.8 |   To bath their hands in bloud of dearest freend,
4. 6.17.9 | Thereby to make their loues beginning, their liues end.

4. 6.18.1 | Thus long they trac'd, and trauerst to and fro,
4. 6.18.2 |   Sometimes pursewing, and sometimes pursewed,
4. 6.18.3 |   Still as aduantage they espyde thereto:
4. 6.18.4 |   But toward th'=end Sir \Arthegall\ renewed
4. 6.18.5 |   His strength still more, but she still more decrewed.
4. 6.18.6 |   At last his lucklesse hand he heau'd on hie,
4. 6.18.7 |   Hauing his forces all in one accrewed,
4. 6.18.8 |   And therewith stroke at her so hideouslie,
4. 6.18.9 | That seemed nought but death mote be her destinie.

4. 6.19.1 | The wicked stroke vpon her helmet chaunst,
4. 6.19.2 |   And with the force, which in it selfe it bore,
4. 6.19.3 |   Her ventayle shard away, and thence forth glaunst
4. 6.19.4 |   A downe in vaine, ne harm'd her any more.
4. 6.19.5 |   With that her angels face, vnseene afore,
4. 6.19.6 |   Like to the ruddie morne appeard in sight,
4. 6.19.7 |   Deawed with siluer drops, through sweating sore,
4. 6.19.8 |   But somewhat redder, then beseem'd aright,
4. 6.19.9 | Through toylesome heate and labour of her weary fight.

4. 6.20.1 | And round about the same, her yellow heare
4. 6.20.2 |   Hauing through stirring loosd their wonted band,
4. 6.20.3 |   Like to a golden border did appeare,
4. 6.20.4 |   Framed in goldsmithes forge with cunning hand:
4. 6.20.5 |   Yet goldsmithes cunning could not vnderstand
4. 6.20.6 |   To frame such subtile wire, so shinie cleare.
4. 6.20.7 |   For it did glister like the golden sand,
4. 6.20.8 |   The which \Pactolus\ with his waters shere,
4. 6.20.9 | Throwes forth vpon the riuage round about him nere.

4. 6.21.1 | And as his hand he vp againe did reare,
4. 6.21.2 |   Thinking to worke on her his vtmost wracke,
4. 6.21.3 |   His powrelesse arme benumbd with secret feare
4. 6.21.4 |   From his reuengefull purpose shronke abacke,
4. 6.21.5 |   And cruell sword out of his fingers slacke
4. 6.21.6 |   Fell downe to ground, as if the steele had sence,
4. 6.21.7 |   And felt some ruth, or sence his hand did lacke,
4. 6.21.8 |   Or both of them did thinke, obedience
4. 6.21.9 | To doe to so diuine a beauties excellence.

4. 6.22.1 | And he himselfe long gazing thereupon,
4. 6.22.2 |   At last fell humbly downe vpon his knee,
4. 6.22.3 |   And of his wonder made religion,
4. 6.22.4 |   Weening some heauenly goddesse he did see,
4. 6.22.5 |   Or else vnweeting, what it else might bee;
4. 6.22.6 |   And pardon her besought his errour frayle,
4. 6.22.7 |   That had done outrage in so high degree:
4. 6.22.8 |   Whilest trembling horrour did his sense assayle,
4. 6.22.9 | And made ech member quake, and manly hart to quayle.

4. 6.23.1 | Nathelesse she full of wrath for that late stroke,
4. 6.23.2 |   All that long while vpheld her wrathfull hand,
4. 6.23.3 |   With fell intent, on him to bene ywroke,
4. 6.23.4 |   And looking sterne, still ouer him did stand,
4. 6.23.5 |   Threatning to strike, vnlesse he would withstand:
4. 6.23.6 |   And bad him rise, or surely he should die.
4. 6.23.7 |   But die or liue for nought he would vpstand
4. 6.23.8 |   But her of pardon prayd more earnestlie,
4. 6.23.9 | Or wreake on him her will for so great iniurie.

4. 6.24.1 | Which when as \Scudamour\, who now abrayd,
4. 6.24.2 |   Beheld, whereas he stood not farre aside,
4. 6.24.3 |   He was therewith right wondrously dismayd,
4. 6.24.4 |   And drawing nigh, when as he plaine descride
4. 6.24.5 |   That peerelesse paterne of Dame natures pride,
4. 6.24.6 |   And heauenly image of perfection,
4. 6.24.7 |   He blest himselfe, as one sore terrifide,
4. 6.24.8 |   And turning his feare to faint deuotion,
4. 6.24.9 | Did worship her as some celestiall vision.

4. 6.25.1 | But \Glauce\, seeing all that chaunced there,
4. 6.25.2 |   Well weeting how their errour to assoyle,
4. 6.25.3 |   Full glad of so good end, to them drew nere,
4. 6.25.4 |   And her salewd with seemely belaccoyle,
4. 6.25.5 |   Ioyous to see her safe after long toyle.
4. 6.25.6 |   Then her besought, as she to her was deare,
4. 6.25.7 |   To graunt vnto those warriours truce a whyle;
4. 6.25.8 |   Which yeelded, they their beuers vp did reare,
4. 6.25.9 | And shew'd themselues to her, such as indeed they were.

4. 6.26.1 | When \Britomart\ with sharpe auizefull eye
4. 6.26.2 |   Beheld the louely face of \Artegall\,
4. 6.26.3 |   Tempred with sternesse and stout maiestie,
4. 6.26.4 |   She gan eftsoones it to her mind to call,
4. 6.26.5 |   To be the same which in her fathers hall
4. 6.26.6 |   Long since in that enchaunted glasse she saw.
4. 6.26.7 |   Therewith her wrathfull courage gan appall,
4. 6.26.8 |   And haughtie spirits meekely to adaw,
4. 6.26.9 | That her enhaunced hand she downe can soft withdraw.

4. 6.27.1 | Yet she it forst to haue againe vpheld,
4. 6.27.2 |   As fayning choler, which was turn'd to cold:
4. 6.27.3 |   But euer when his visage she beheld,
4. 6.27.4 |   Her hand fell downe, and would no longer hold
4. 6.27.5 |   The wrathfull weapon gainst his countnance bold:
4. 6.27.6 |   But when in vaine to fight she oft assayd,
4. 6.27.7 |   She arm'd her tongue, and thought at him to scold;
4. 6.27.8 |   Nathlesse her tongue not to her will obayd,
4. 6.27.9 | But brought forth speeches myld, when she would haue missayd.

4. 6.28.1 | But \Scudamour\ now woxen inly glad,
4. 6.28.2 |   That all his gealous feare he false had found,
4. 6.28.3 |   And how that Hag his loue abused had
4. 6.28.4 |   With breach of faith and loyaltie vnsound,
4. 6.28.5 |   The which long time his grieued hart did wound,
4. 6.28.6 |   He thus bespake; Certes Sir \Artegall\,
4. 6.28.7 |   I ioy to see you lout so low on ground,
4. 6.28.8 |   And now become to liue a Ladies thrall,
4. 6.28.9 | That whylome in your minde wont to despise them all.

4. 6.29.1 | Soone as she heard the name of \Artegall\,
4. 6.29.2 |   Her hart did leape, and all her hart-strings tremble,
4. 6.29.3 |   For sudden ioy, and secret feare withall,
4. 6.29.4 |   And all her vitall powres with motion nimble,
4. 6.29.5 |   To succour it, themselues gan there assemble,
4. 6.29.6 |   That by the swift recourse of flushing blood
4. 6.29.7 |   Right plaine appeard, though she it would dissemble,
4. 6.29.8 |   And fayned still her former angry mood,
4. 6.29.9 | Thinking to hide the depth by troubling of the flood.

4. 6.30.1 | When \Glauce\ thus gan wisely all vpknit;
4. 6.30.2 |   Ye gentle Knights, whom fortune here hath brought,
4. 6.30.3 |   To be spectators of this vncouth fit,
4. 6.30.4 |   Which secret fate hath in this Ladie wrought,
4. 6.30.5 |   Against the course of kind, ne meruaile nought,
4. 6.30.6 |   Ne thenceforth feare the thing that hethertoo
4. 6.30.7 |   Hath troubled both your mindes with idle thought,
4. 6.30.8 |   Fearing least she your loues away should woo,
4. 6.30.9 | Feared in vaine, sith meanes ye see there wants theretoo.

4. 6.31.1 | And you Sir \Artegall\, the saluage knight,
4. 6.31.2 |   Henceforth may not disdaine, that womans hand
4. 6.31.3 |   Hath conquered you anew in second fight:
4. 6.31.4 |   For whylome they haue conquerd sea and land,
4. 6.31.5 |   And heauen it selfe, that nought may them withstand.
4. 6.31.6 |   Ne henceforth be rebellious vnto loue,
4. 6.31.7 |   That is the crowne of knighthood, and the band
4. 6.31.8 |   Of noble minds deriued from aboue,
4. 6.31.9 | Which being knit with vertue, neuer will remoue.

4. 6.32.1 | And you faire Ladie knight, my dearest Dame,
4. 6.32.2 |   Relent the rigour of your wrathfull will,
4. 6.32.3 |   Whose fire were better turn'd to other flame;
4. 6.32.4 |   And wiping out remembrance of all ill,
4. 6.32.5 |   Graunt him your grace, but so that he fulfill
4. 6.32.6 |   The penance, which ye shall to him empart:
4. 6.32.7 |   For louers heauen must passe by sorrowes hell.
4. 6.32.8 |   Thereat full inly blushed \Britomart\;
4. 6.32.9 | But \Artegall\ close smyling ioy'd in secret hart.

4. 6.33.1 | Yet durst he not make loue so suddenly,
4. 6.33.2 |   Ne thinke th'=affection of her hart to draw
4. 6.33.3 |   From one to other so quite contrary:
4. 6.33.4 |   Besides her modest countenance he saw
4. 6.33.5 |   So goodly graue, and full of princely aw,
4. 6.33.6 |   That it his ranging fancie did refraine,
4. 6.33.7 |   And looser thoughts to lawfull bounds withdraw;
4. 6.33.8 |   Whereby the passion grew more fierce and faine,
4. 6.33.9 | Like to a stubborne steede whom strong hand would restraine.

4. 6.34.1 | But \Scudamour\ whose hart twixt doubtfull feare
4. 6.34.2 |   And feeble hope hung all this while suspence,
4. 6.34.3 |   Desiring of his \Amoret\ to heare
4. 6.34.4 |   Some gladfull newes and sure intelligence,
4. 6.34.5 |   Her thus bespake; But Sir without offence
4. 6.34.6 |   Mote I request you tydings of my loue,
4. 6.34.7 |   My \Amoret\, sith you her freed fro thence,
4. 6.34.8 |   Where she captiued long, great woes did proue;
4. 6.34.9 | That where ye left, I may her seeke, as doth behoue.

4. 6.35.1 | To whom thus \Britomart\, Certes Sir knight,
4. 6.35.2 |   What is of her become, or whether reft,
4. 6.35.3 |   I can not vnto you aread a right.
4. 6.35.4 |   For from that time I from enchaunters theft
4. 6.35.5 |   Her freed, in which ye her all hopelesse left,
4. 6.35.6 |   I her preseru'd from perill and from feare,
4. 6.35.7 |   And euermore from villenie her kept:
4. 6.35.8 |   Ne euer was there wight to me more deare
4. 6.35.9 | Then she, ne vnto whom I more true loue did beare.

4. 6.36.1 | Till on a day as through a desert wyld
4. 6.36.2 |   We trauelled, both wearie of the way
4. 6.36.3 |   We did alight, and sate in shadow myld;
4. 6.36.4 |   Where fearelesse I to sleepe me downe did lay.
4. 6.36.5 |   But when as I did out of sleepe abray,
4. 6.36.6 |   I found her not, where I her left whyleare,
4. 6.36.7 |   But thought she wandred was, or gone astray.
4. 6.36.8 |   I cal'd her loud, I sought her farre and neare;
4. 6.36.9 | But no where could her find, nor tydings of her heare.

4. 6.37.1 | When \Scudamour\ those heauie tydings heard,
4. 6.37.2 |   His hart was thrild with point of deadly feare;
4. 6.37.3 |   Ne in his face or bloud or life appeard,
4. 6.37.4 |   But senselesse stood, like to a mazed steare,
4. 6.37.5 |   That yet of mortall stroke the stound doth beare.
4. 6.37.6 |   Till \Glauce\ thus; Faire Sir, be nought dismayd
4. 6.37.7 |   With needelesse dread, till certaintie ye heare:
4. 6.37.8 |   For yet she may be safe though somewhat strayd;
4. 6.37.9 | Its best to hope the best, though of the worst affrayd.

4. 6.38.1 | Nathlesse he hardly of her chearefull speech
4. 6.38.2 |   Did comfort take, or in his troubled sight
4. 6.38.3 |   Shew'd change of better cheare: so sore a breach
4. 6.38.4 |   That sudden newes had made into his spright;
4. 6.38.5 |   Till \Britomart\ him fairely thus behight;
4. 6.38.6 |   Great cause of sorrow certes Sir ye haue:
4. 6.38.7 |   But comfort take: for by this heauens light
4. 6.38.8 |   I vow, you dead or liuing not to leaue,
4. 6.38.9 | Till I her find, and wreake on him that her did reaue.

4. 6.39.1 | Therewith he rested, and well pleased was.
4. 6.39.2 |   So peace being confirm'd amongst them all,
4. 6.39.3 |   They tooke their steeds, and forward thence did pas
4. 6.39.4 |   Vnto some resting place, which mote befall,
4. 6.39.5 |   All being guided by Sir \Artegall\.
4. 6.39.6 |   Where goodly solace was vnto them made,
4. 6.39.7 |   And dayly feasting both in bowre and hall,
4. 6.39.8 |   Vntill that they their wounds well healed had,
4. 6.39.9 | And wearie limmes recur'd after late vsage bad.

4. 6.40.1 | In all which time, Sir \Artegall\ made way
4. 6.40.2 |   Vnto the loue of noble \Britomart\,
4. 6.40.3 |   And with meeke seruice and much suit did lay
4. 6.40.4 |   Continuall siege vnto her gentle hart,
4. 6.40.5 |   Which being whylome launcht with louely dart,
4. 6.40.6 |   More eath was new impression to receiue,
4. 6.40.7 |   How euer she her paynd with womanish art
4. 6.40.8 |   To hide her wound, that none might it perceiue:
4. 6.40.9 | Vaine is the art that seekes it selfe for to deceiue.

4. 6.41.1 | So well he woo'd her, and so well he wrought her,
4. 6.41.2 |   With faire entreatie and sweet blandishment,
4. 6.41.3 |   That at the length vnto a bay he brought her,
4. 6.41.4 |   So as she to his speeches was content
4. 6.41.5 |   To lend an eare, and softly to relent.
4. 6.41.6 |   At last through many vowes which forth he pour'd,
4. 6.41.7 |   And many othes, she yeelded her consent
4. 6.41.8 |   To be his loue, and take him for her Lord,
4. 6.41.9 | Till they with mariage meet might finish that accord.

4. 6.42.1 | Tho when they had long time there taken rest,
4. 6.42.2 |   Sir \Artegall\, who all this while was bound
4. 6.42.3 |   Vpon an hard aduenture yet in quest,
4. 6.42.4 |   Fit time for him thence to depart it found,
4. 6.42.5 |   To follow that, which he did long propound;
4. 6.42.6 |   And vnto her his congee came to take.
4. 6.42.7 |   But her therewith full sore displeasd he found,
4. 6.42.8 |   And loth to leaue her late betrothed make,
4. 6.42.9 | Her dearest loue full loth so shortly to forsake.

4. 6.43.1 | Yet he with strong perswasions her asswaged,
4. 6.43.2 |   And wonne her will to suffer him depart;
4. 6.43.3 |   For which his faith with her he fast engaged,
4. 6.43.4 |   And thousand vowes from bottome of his hart,
4. 6.43.5 |   That all so soone as he by wit or art
4. 6.43.6 |   Could that atchieue, whereto he did aspire,
4. 6.43.7 |   He vnto her would speedily reuert:
4. 6.43.8 |   No longer space thereto he did desire,
4. 6.43.9 | But till the horned moone three courses did expire.

4. 6.44.1 | With which she for the present was appeased,
4. 6.44.2 |   And yeelded leaue, how euer malcontent
4. 6.44.3 |   She inly were, and in her mind displeased.
4. 6.44.4 |   So early in the morrow next he went
4. 6.44.5 |   Forth on his way, to which he was ybent.
4. 6.44.6 |   Ne wight him to attend, or way to guide,
4. 6.44.7 |   As whylome was the custome ancient
4. 6.44.8 |   Mongst Knights, when on aduentures they did ride,
4. 6.44.9 | Saue that she algates him a while accompanide.

4. 6.45.1 | And by the way she sundry purpose found
4. 6.45.2 |   Of this or that, the time for to delay,
4. 6.45.3 |   And of the perils whereto he was bound,
4. 6.45.4 |   The feare whereof seem'd much her to affray:
4. 6.45.5 |   But all she did was but to weare out day.
4. 6.45.6 |   Full oftentimes she leaue of him did take;
4. 6.45.7 |   And eft againe deuiz'd some what to say,
4. 6.45.8 |   Which she forgot, whereby excuse to make:
4. 6.45.9 | So loth she was his companie for to forsake.

4. 6.46.1 | At last when all her speeches she had spent,
4. 6.46.2 |   And new occasion fayld her more to find,
4. 6.46.3 |   She left him to his fortunes gouernment,
4. 6.46.4 |   And backe returned with right heauie mind,
4. 6.46.5 |   To \Scudamour\, who she had left behind,
4. 6.46.6 |   With whom she went to seeke faire \Amoret\,
4. 6.46.7 |   Her second care, though in another kind;
4. 6.46.8 |   For vertues onely sake, which doth beget
4. 6.46.9 | True loue and faithfull friendship, she by her did set.

4. 6.47.1 | Backe to that desert forrest they retyred,
4. 6.47.2 |   Where sorie \Britomart\ had lost her late;
4. 6.47.3 |   There they her sought, and euery where inquired,
4. 6.47.4 |   Where they might tydings get of her estate;
4. 6.47.5 |   Yet found they none. But by what haplesse fate,
4. 6.47.6 |   Or hard misfortune she was thence conuayd,
4. 6.47.7 |   And stolne away from her beloued mate,
4. 6.47.8 |   Were long to tell; therefore I here will stay
4. 6.47.9 | Vntill another tyde, that I it finish may.


4. 7. A.1 | \Amoret rapt by greedie lust\
4. 7. A.2 |   \Belphebe saues from dread,\
4. 7. A.3 | \The Squire her loues, and being blam'd\
4. 7. A.4 |   \his dayes in dole doth lead.\

4. 7. 1.1 | Great God of loue, that with thy cruell dart
4. 7. 1.2 |   Doest conquer greatest conquerors on ground,
4. 7. 1.3 |   And setst thy kingdome in the captiue harts
4. 7. 1.4 |   Of Kings and Keasars, to thy seruice bound,
4. 7. 1.5 |   What glorie, or what guerdon hast thou found
4. 7. 1.6 |   In feeble Ladies tyranning so sore;
4. 7. 1.7 |   And adding anguish to the bitter wound,
4. 7. 1.8 |   With which their liues thou lanchedst long afore,
4. 7. 1.9 | By heaping stormes of trouble on them daily more?

4. 7. 2.1 | So whylome didst thou to faire \Florimell\;
4. 7. 2.2 |   And so and so to noble \Britomart\:
4. 7. 2.3 |   So doest thou now to her, of whom I tell,
4. 7. 2.4 |   The louely \Amoret\, whose gentle hart
4. 7. 2.5 |   Thou martyrest with sorow and with smart,
4. 7. 2.6 |   In saluage forrests, and in deserts wide,
4. 7. 2.7 |   With Beares and Tygers taking heauie part,
4. 7. 2.8 |   Withouten comfort, and withouten guide,
4. 7. 2.9 | That pittie is to heare the perils, which she tride.

4. 7. 3.1 | So soone as she with that braue Britonesse
4. 7. 3.2 |   Had left that Turneyment for beauties prise,
4. 7. 3.3 |   They trauel'd long, that now for wearinesse,
4. 7. 3.4 |   Both of the way, and warlike exercise,
4. 7. 3.5 |   Both through a forest ryding did deuise
4. 7. 3.6 |   T'=alight, and rest their wearie limbs awhile.
4. 7. 3.7 |   There heauie sleepe the eye-lids did surprise
4. 7. 3.8 |   Of \Britomart\ after long tedious toyle,
4. 7. 3.9 | That did her passed paines in quiet rest assoyle.

4. 7. 4.1 | The whiles faire \Amoret\, of nought affeard,
4. 7. 4.2 |   Walkt through the wood, for pleasure, or for need;
4. 7. 4.3 |   When suddenly behind her backe she heard
4. 7. 4.4 |   One rushing forth out of the thickest weed,
4. 7. 4.5 |   That ere she backe could turne to taken heed,
4. 7. 4.6 |   Had vnawares her snatched vp from ground.
4. 7. 4.7 |   Feebly she shriekt, but so feebly indeed,
4. 7. 4.8 |   That \Britomart\ heard not the shrilling sound,
4. 7. 4.9 | There where through weary trauel she lay sleeping sound.

4. 7. 5.1 | It was to weet a wilde and saluage man,
4. 7. 5.2 |   Yet was no man, but onely like in shape,
4. 7. 5.3 |   And eke in stature higher by a span,
4. 7. 5.4 |   All ouergrowne with haire, that could awhape
4. 7. 5.5 |   An hardy hart, and his wide mouth did gape
4. 7. 5.6 |   With huge great teeth, like to a tusked Bore:
4. 7. 5.7 |   For he liu'd all on rauin and on rape
4. 7. 5.8 |   Of men and beasts; and fed on fleshly gore,
4. 7. 5.9 | The signe whereof yet stain'd his bloudy lips afore.

4. 7. 6.1 | His neather lip was not like man nor beast,
4. 7. 6.2 |   But like a wide deepe poke, downe hanging low,
4. 7. 6.3 |   In which he wont the relickes of his feast,
4. 7. 6.4 |   And cruell spoyle, which he had spard, to stow:
4. 7. 6.5 |   And ouer it his huge great nose did grow,
4. 7. 6.6 |   Full dreadfully empurpled all with bloud;
4. 7. 6.7 |   And downe both sides two wide long eares did glow,
4. 7. 6.8 |   And raught downe to his waste, when vp he stood,
4. 7. 6.9 | More great then th'=eares of Elephants by \Indus\ flood.

4. 7. 7.1 | His wast was with a wreath of yuie greene
4. 7. 7.2 |   Engirt about, ne other garment wore:
4. 7. 7.3 |   For all his haire was like a garment seene;
4. 7. 7.4 |   And in his hand a tall young oake he bore,
4. 7. 7.5 |   Whose knottie snags were sharpned all afore,
4. 7. 7.6 |   And beath'd in fire for steele to be in sted.
4. 7. 7.7 |   But whence he was, or of what wombe ybore,
4. 7. 7.8 |   Of beasts, or of the earth, I haue not red:
4. 7. 7.9 | But certes was with milke of Wolues and Tygres fed.

4. 7. 8.1 | This vgly creature in his armes her snatcht,
4. 7. 8.2 |   And through the forrest bore her quite away,
4. 7. 8.3 |   With briers and bushes all to rent and scratcht;
4. 7. 8.4 |   Ne care he had, ne pittie of the pray,
4. 7. 8.5 |   Which many a knight had sought so many a day.
4. 7. 8.6 |   He stayed not, but in his armes her bearing
4. 7. 8.7 |   Ran, till he came to th'=end of all his way,
4. 7. 8.8 |   Vnto his caue farre from all peoples hearing,
4. 7. 8.9 | And there he threw her in, nought feeling, ne nought fearing.

4. 7. 9.1 | For she deare Ladie all the way was dead,
4. 7. 9.2 |   Whilest he in armes her bore; but when she felt
4. 7. 9.3 |   Her selfe downe soust, she waked out of dread
4. 7. 9.4 |   Streight into griefe, that her deare hart nigh swelt,
4. 7. 9.5 |   And eft gan into tender teares to melt.
4. 7. 9.6 |   Then when she lookt about, and nothing found
4. 7. 9.7 |   But darknesse and dread horrour, where she dwelt,
4. 7. 9.8 |   She almost fell againe into a swound,
4. 7. 9.9 | Ne wist whether aboue she were, or vnder ground.

4. 7.10.1 | With that she heard some one close by her side
4. 7.10.2 |   Sighing and sobbing sore, as if the paine
4. 7.10.3 |   Her tender hart in peeces would diuide:
4. 7.10.4 |   Which she long listning, softly askt againe
4. 7.10.5 |   What mister wight it was that so did plaine?
4. 7.10.6 |   To whom thus aunswer'd was: Ah wretched wight
4. 7.10.7 |   That seekes to know anothers griefe in vaine,
4. 7.10.8 |   Vnweeting of thine owne like haplesse plight:
4. 7.10.9 | Selfe to forget to mind another, is ouersight.

4. 7.11.1 | Aye me (said she) where am I, or with whom?
4. 7.11.2 |   Emong the liuing, or emong the dead?
4. 7.11.3 |   What shall of me vnhappy maid become?
4. 7.11.4 |   Shall death be th'=end, or ought else worse, aread.
4. 7.11.5 |   Vnhappy mayd (then answerd she) whose dread
4. 7.11.6 |   Vntride, is lesse then when thou shalt it try:
4. 7.11.7 |   Death is to him, that wretched life doth lead,
4. 7.11.8 |   Both grace and gaine; but he in hell doth lie,
4. 7.11.9 | That liues a loathed life, and wishing cannot die.

4. 7.12.1 | This dismall day hath thee a caytiue made,
4. 7.12.2 |   And vassall to the vilest wretch aliue,
4. 7.12.3 |   Whose cursed vsage and vngodly trade
4. 7.12.4 |   The heauens abhorre, and into darkenesse driue.
4. 7.12.5 |   For on the spoile of women he doth liue,
4. 7.12.6 |   Whose bodies chast, when euer in his powre
4. 7.12.7 |   He may them catch, vnable to gainestriue,
4. 7.12.8 |   He with his shamefull lust doth first deflowre,
4. 7.12.9 | And afterwards themselues doth cruelly deuoure.

4. 7.13.1 | Now twenty daies, by which the sonnes of men
4. 7.13.2 |   Diuide their works, haue past through heuen sheene,
4. 7.13.3 |   Since I was brought into this dolefull den;
4. 7.13.4 |   During which space these sory eies haue seen
4. 7.13.5 |   Seauen women by him slaine, and eaten clene.
4. 7.13.6 |   And now no more for him but I alone,
4. 7.13.7 |   And this old woman here remaining beene;
4. 7.13.8 |   Till thou cam'st hither to augment our mone,
4. 7.13.9 | And of vs three to morrow he will sure eate one.

4. 7.14.1 | Ah dreadfull tidings which thou doest declare,
4. 7.14.2 |   (Quoth she) of all that euer hath bene knowen:
4. 7.14.3 |   Full many great calamities and rare
4. 7.14.4 |   This feeble brest endured hath, but none
4. 7.14.5 |   Equall to this, where euer I haue gone.
4. 7.14.6 |   But what are you, whom like vnlucky lot
4. 7.14.7 |   Hath linckt with me in the same chaine attone?
4. 7.14.8 |   To tell (quoth she) that which ye see, needs not;
4. 7.14.9 | A wofull wretched maid, of God and man forgot.

4. 7.15.1 | But what I was, it irkes me to reherse;
4. 7.15.2 |   Daughter vnto a Lord of high degree;
4. 7.15.3 |   That ioyd in happy peace, till fates peruerse
4. 7.15.4 |   With guilefull loue did secretly agree,
4. 7.15.5 |   To ouerthrow my state and dignitie.
4. 7.15.6 |   It was my lot to loue a gentle swaine,
4. 7.15.7 |   Yet was he but a Squire of low degree;
4. 7.15.8 |   Yet was he meet, vnlesse mine eye did faine,
4. 7.15.9 | By any Ladies side for Leman to haue laine.

4. 7.16.1 | But for his meannesse and disparagement,
4. 7.16.2 |   My Sire, who me too dearely well did loue,
4. 7.16.3 |   Vnto my choise by no meanes would assent,
4. 7.16.4 |   But often did my folly fowle reproue.
4. 7.16.5 |   Yet nothing could my fixed mind remoue,
4. 7.16.6 |   But whether willed or nilled friend or foe,
4. 7.16.7 |   I me resolu'd the vtmost end to proue,
4. 7.16.8 |   And rather then my loue abandon so,
4. 7.16.9 | Both sire, and friends, and all for euer to forgo.

4. 7.17.1 | Thenceforth I sought by secret meanes to worke
4. 7.17.2 |   Time to my will, and from his wrathfull sight
4. 7.17.3 |   To hide th'=intent, which in my heart did lurke,
4. 7.17.4 |   Till I thereto had all things ready dight.
4. 7.17.5 |   So on a day vnweeting vnto wight,
4. 7.17.6 |   I with that Squire agreede away to flit,
4. 7.17.7 |   And in a priuy place, betwixt vs hight,
4. 7.17.8 |   Within a groue appointed him to meete;
4. 7.17.9 | To which I boldly came vpon my feeble feete.

4. 7.18.1 | But ah vnhappy houre me thither brought:
4. 7.18.2 |   For in that place where I him thought to find,
4. 7.18.3 |   There was I found, contrary to my thought,
4. 7.18.4 |   Of this accursed Carle of hellish kind,
4. 7.18.5 |   The shame of men, and plague of womankind,
4. 7.18.6 |   Who trussing me, as Eagle doth his pray,
4. 7.18.7 |   Me hether brought with him, as swift as wind,
4. 7.18.8 |   Where yet vntouched till this present day,
4. 7.18.9 | I rest his wretched thrall, the sad \A+Emylia\.

4. 7.19.1 | Ah sad \A+Emylia\ (then sayd \Amoret\,)
4. 7.19.2 |   Thy ruefull plight I pitty as mine owne.
4. 7.19.3 |   But read to me, by what deuise or wit,
4. 7.19.4 |   Hast thou in all this time, from him vnknowne
4. 7.19.5 |   Thine honor sau'd, though into thraldome throwne.
4. 7.19.6 |   Through helpe (quoth she) of this old woman here
4. 7.19.7 |   I haue so done, as she to me hath showne.
4. 7.19.8 |   For euer when he burnt in lustfull fire,
4. 7.19.9 | She in my stead supplide his bestiall desire.

4. 7.20.1 | Thus of their euils as they did discourse,
4. 7.20.2 |   And each did other much bewaile and mone,
4. 7.20.3 |   Loe where the villaine selfe, their sorrowes sourse;
4. 7.20.4 |   Came to the caue, and rolling thence the stone,
4. 7.20.5 |   Which wont to stop the mouth thereof, that none
4. 7.20.6 |   Might issue forth, came rudely rushing in,
4. 7.20.7 |   And spredding ouer all the flore alone,
4. 7.20.8 |   Gan dight him selfe vnto his wonted sinne;
4. 7.20.9 | Which ended, then his bloudy banket should beginne.

4. 7.21.1 | Which when as fearefull \Amoret\ perceiued,
4. 7.21.2 |   She staid not the vtmost end thereof to try,
4. 7.21.3 |   But like a ghastly Gelt, whose wits are reaued,
4. 7.21.4 |   Ran forth in hast with hideous outcry,
4. 7.21.5 |   For horrour of his shamefull villany.
4. 7.21.6 |   But after her full lightly he vprose,
4. 7.21.7 |   And her pursu'd as fast as she did flie:
4. 7.21.8 |   Full fast she flies, and farre afore him goes,
4. 7.21.9 | Ne feeles the thorns and thickets pricke her tender toes.

4. 7.22.1 | Nor hedge, nor ditch, nor hill, nor dale she staies,
4. 7.22.2 |   But ouerleapes them all, like Robucke light,
4. 7.22.3 |   And through the thickest makes her nighest waies;
4. 7.22.4 |   And euermore when with regardfull sight
4. 7.22.5 |   She looking backe, espies that griesly wight
4. 7.22.6 |   Approching nigh, she gins to mend her pace,
4. 7.22.7 |   And makes her feare a spur to hast her flight:
4. 7.22.8 |   More swift then \Myrrh'\ or \Daphne\ in her race,
4. 7.22.9 | Or any of the Thracian Nimphes in saluage chase.

4. 7.23.1 | Long so she fled, and so he follow'd long;
4. 7.23.2 |   Ne liuing aide for her on earth appeares,
4. 7.23.3 |   But if the heauens helpe to redresse her wrong,
4. 7.23.4 |   Moued with pity of her plenteous teares.
4. 7.23.5 |   It fortuned \Belphebe\ with her peares
4. 7.23.6 |   The woody Nimphs, and with that louely boy,
4. 7.23.7 |   Was hunting then the Libbards and the Beares,
4. 7.23.8 |   In these wild woods, as was her wonted ioy,
4. 7.23.9 | To banish sloth, that oft doth noble mindes annoy.

4. 7.24.1 | It so befell, as oft it fals in chace,
4. 7.24.2 |   That each of them from other sundred were,
4. 7.24.3 |   And that same gentle Squire arriu'd in place,
4. 7.24.4 |   Where this same cursed caytiue did appeare,
4. 7.24.5 |   Pursuing that faire Lady full of feare,
4. 7.24.6 |   And now he her quite ouertaken had;
4. 7.24.7 |   And now he her away with him did beare
4. 7.24.8 |   Vnder his arme, as seeming wondrous glad,
4. 7.24.9 | That by his grenning laughter mote farre off be rad.

4. 7.25.1 | Which drery sight the gentle Squire espying,
4. 7.25.2 |   Doth hast to crosse him by the nearest way,
4. 7.25.3 |   Led with that wofull Ladies piteous crying,
4. 7.25.4 |   And him assailes with all the might he may,
4. 7.25.5 |   Yet will not he the louely spoile downe lay,
4. 7.25.6 |   But with his craggy club in his right hand,
4. 7.25.7 |   Defends him selfe, and saues his gotten pray.
4. 7.25.8 |   Yet had it bene right hard him to withstand,
4. 7.25.9 | But that he was full light and nimble on the land.

4. 7.26.1 | Thereto the villaine vsed craft in fight;
4. 7.26.2 |   For euer when the Squire his iauelin shooke,
4. 7.26.3 |   He held the Lady forth before him right,
4. 7.26.4 |   And with her body, as a buckler, broke
4. 7.26.5 |   The puissance of his intended stroke.
4. 7.26.6 |   And if it chaunst, (as needs it must in fight)
4. 7.26.7 |   Whilest he on him was greedy to be wroke,
4. 7.26.8 |   That any little blow on her did light,
4. 7.26.9 | Then would he laugh aloud, and gather great delight.

4. 7.27.1 | Which subtill sleight did him encumber much,
4. 7.27.2 |   And made him oft, when he would strike, forbeare;
4. 7.27.3 |   For hardly could he come the carle to touch,
4. 7.27.4 |   But that he her must hurt, or hazard neare:
4. 7.27.5 |   Yet he his hand so carefully did beare,
4. 7.27.6 |   That at the last he did himselfe attaine,
4. 7.27.7 |   And therein left the pike head of his speare.
4. 7.27.8 |   A streame of coleblacke bloud thence gusht amaine,
4. 7.27.9 | That all her silken garments did with bloud bestaine.

4. 7.28.1 | With that he threw her rudely on the flore,
4. 7.28.2 |   And laying both his hands vpon his glaue,
4. 7.28.3 |   With dreadfull strokes let driue at him so sore,
4. 7.28.4 |   That forst him flie abacke, himselfe to saue:
4. 7.28.5 |   Yet he therewith so felly still did raue,
4. 7.28.6 |   That scarse the Squire his hand could once vpreare,
4. 7.28.7 |   But for aduantage ground vnto him gaue,
4. 7.28.8 |   Tracing and trauersing, now here, now there;
4. 7.28.9 | For bootlesse thing it was to think such blowes to beare.

4. 7.29.1 | Whilest thus in battell they embusied were,
4. 7.29.2 |   \Belphebe\ raunging in that forrest wide,
4. 7.29.3 |   The hideous noise of their huge strokes did heare,
4. 7.29.4 |   And drew thereto, making her eare her guide.
4. 7.29.5 |   Whom when that theefe approching nigh espide,
4. 7.29.6 |   With bow in hand, and arrowes ready bent,
4. 7.29.7 |   He by his former combate would not bide,
4. 7.29.8 |   But fled away with ghastly dreriment,
4. 7.29.9 | Well knowing her to be his deaths sole instrument.

4. 7.30.1 | Whom seeing flie, she speedily poursewed
4. 7.30.2 |   With winged feete, as nimble as the winde,
4. 7.30.3 |   And euer in her bow she ready shewed
4. 7.30.4 |   The arrow, to his deadly marke desynde.
4. 7.30.5 |   As when \Latonaes\ daughter cruell kynde,
4. 7.30.6 |   In vengement of her mothers great disgrace,
4. 7.30.7 |   With fell despight her cruell arrowes tynde
4. 7.30.8 |   Gainst wofull \Niobes\ vnhappy race,
4. 7.30.9 | That all the gods did mone her miserable case.

4. 7.31.1 | So well she sped her and so far she ventred,
4. 7.31.2 |   That ere vnto his hellish den he raught,
4. 7.31.3 |   Euen as he ready was there to haue entred,
4. 7.31.4 |   She sent an arrow forth with mighty draught,
4. 7.31.5 |   That in the very dore him ouercaught,
4. 7.31.6 |   And in his nape arriuing, through it thrild
4. 7.31.7 |   His greedy throte, therewith in two distraught,
4. 7.31.8 |   That all his vitall spirites thereby spild,
4. 7.31.9 | And all his hairy brest with gory bloud was fild.

4. 7.32.1 | Whom when on ground she groueling saw to rowle,
4. 7.32.2 |   She ran in hast his life to haue bereft:
4. 7.32.3 |   But ere she could him reach, the sinfull sowle
4. 7.32.4 |   Hauing his carrion corse quite sencelesse left,
4. 7.32.5 |   Was fled to hell, surcharg'd with spoile and theft.
4. 7.32.6 |   Yet ouer him she there long gazing stood,
4. 7.32.7 |   And oft admir'd his monstrous shape, and oft
4. 7.32.8 |   His mighty limbs, whilest all with filthy bloud
4. 7.32.9 | The place there ouerflowne, seemd like a sodaine flood.

4. 7.33.1 | Thence forth she past into his dreadfull den,
4. 7.33.2 |   Where nought but darkesome drerinesse she found,
4. 7.33.3 |   Ne creature saw, but hearkned now and then
4. 7.33.4 |   Some litle whispering, and soft groning sound.
4. 7.33.5 |   With that she askt, what ghosts there vnder ground
4. 7.33.6 |   Lay hid in horrour of eternall night?
4. 7.33.7 |   And bad them, if so be they were not bound,
4. 7.33.8 |   To come and shew themselues before the light,
4. 7.33.9 | Now freed from feare and danger of that dismall wight.

4. 7.34.1 | Then forth the sad \A+Emylia\ issewed,
4. 7.34.2 |   Yet trembling euery ioynt through former feare;
4. 7.34.3 |   And after her the Hag, there with her mewed,
4. 7.34.4 |   A foule and lothsome creature did appeare;
4. 7.34.5 |   A leman fit for such a louer deare.
4. 7.34.6 |   That mou'd \Belphebe\ her no lesse to hate,
4. 7.34.7 |   Then for to rue the others heauy cheare;
4. 7.34.8 |   Of whom she gan enquire of her estate.
4. 7.34.9 | Who all to her at large, as hapned, did relate.

4. 7.35.1 | Thence she them brought toward the place, where late
4. 7.35.2 |   She left the gentle Squire with \Amoret:\
4. 7.35.3 |   There she him found by that new louely mate,
4. 7.35.4 |   Who lay the whiles in swoune, full sadly set,
4. 7.35.5 |   From her faire eyes wiping the deawy wet,
4. 7.35.6 |   Which softly stild, and kissing them atweene,
4. 7.35.7 |   And handling soft the hurts, which she did get.
4. 7.35.8 |   For of that Carle she sorely bruz'd had beene,
4. 7.35.9 | Als of his owne rash hand one wound was to be seene.

4. 7.36.1 | Which when she saw, with sodaine glauncing eye,
4. 7.36.2 |   Her noble heart with sight thereof was fild
4. 7.36.3 |   With deepe disdaine, and great indignity,
4. 7.36.4 |   That in her wrath she thought them both haue thrild,
4. 7.36.5 |   With that selfe arrow, which the Carle had kild:
4. 7.36.6 |   Yet held her wrathfull hand from vengeance sore,
4. 7.36.7 |   But drawing nigh, ere he her well beheld;
4. 7.36.8 |   Is this the faith, she said, and said no more,
4. 7.36.9 | But turnd her face, and fled away for euermore.

4. 7.37.1 | He seeing her depart, arose vp light,
4. 7.37.2 |   Right sore agrieued at her sharpe reproofe,
4. 7.37.3 |   And follow'd fast: but when he came in sight,
4. 7.37.4 |   He durst not nigh approch, but kept aloofe,
4. 7.37.5 |   For dread of her displeasures vtmost proofe.
4. 7.37.6 |   And euermore, when he did grace entreat,
4. 7.37.7 |   And framed speaches fit for his behoofe,
4. 7.37.8 |   Her mortall arrowes she at him did threat,
4. 7.37.9 | And forst him backe with fowle dishonor to retreat.

4. 7.38.1 | At last when long he follow'd had in vaine,
4. 7.38.2 |   Yet found no ease of griefe, nor hope of grace,
4. 7.38.3 |   Vnto those woods he turned backe againe,
4. 7.38.4 |   Full of sad anguish, and in heauy case:
4. 7.38.5 |   And finding there fit solitary place
4. 7.38.6 |   For wofull wight, chose out a gloomy glade,
4. 7.38.7 |   Where hardly eye mote see bright heauens face,
4. 7.38.8 |   For mossy trees, which couered all with shade
4. 7.38.9 | And sad melancholy: there he his cabin made.

4. 7.39.1 | His wonted warlike weapons all he broke,
4. 7.39.2 |   And threw away, with vow to vse no more,
4. 7.39.3 |   Ne thenceforth euer strike in battell stroke,
4. 7.39.4 |   Ne euer word to speake to woman more;
4. 7.39.5 |   But in that wildernesse, of men forlore,
4. 7.39.6 |   And of the wicked world forgotten quight,
4. 7.39.7 |   His hard mishap in dolor to deplore,
4. 7.39.8 |   And wast his wretched daies in wofull plight;
4. 7.39.9 | So on him selfe to wreake his follies owne despight.

4. 7.40.1 | And eke his garment, to be thereto meet,
4. 7.40.2 |   He wilfully did cut and shape anew;
4. 7.40.3 |   And his faire lockes, that wont with ointment sweet
4. 7.40.4 |   To be embaulm'd, and sweat out dainty dew,
4. 7.40.5 |   He let to grow and griesly to concrew,
4. 7.40.6 |   Vncomb'd, vncurl'd, and carelesly vnshed;
4. 7.40.7 |   That in short time his face they ouergrew,
4. 7.40.8 |   And ouer all his shoulders did dispred,
4. 7.40.9 | That who he whilome was, vneath was to be red.

4. 7.41.1 | There he continued in this carefull plight,
4. 7.41.2 |   Wretchedly wearing out his youthly yeares,
4. 7.41.3 |   Through wilfull penury consumed quight,
4. 7.41.4 |   That like a pined ghost he soone appeares.
4. 7.41.5 |   For other food then that wilde forrest beares,
4. 7.41.6 |   Ne other drinke there did he euer tast,
4. 7.41.7 |   Then running water, tempred with his teares,
4. 7.41.8 |   The more his weakened body so to wast:
4. 7.41.9 | That out of all mens knowledge he was worne at last.

4. 7.42.1 | For on a day, by fortune as it fell,
4. 7.42.2 |   His owne deare Lord Prince \Arthure\ came that way,
4. 7.42.3 |   Seeking aduentures, where he mote heare tell;
4. 7.42.4 |   And as he through the wandring wood did stray,
4. 7.42.5 |   Hauing espide this Cabin far away,
4. 7.42.6 |   He to it drew, to weet who there did wonne;
4. 7.42.7 |   Weening therein some holy Hermit lay,
4. 7.42.8 |   That did resort of sinfull people shonne;
4. 7.42.9 | Or else some woodman shrowded there from scorching sunne.

4. 7.43.1 | Arriuing there, he found this wretched man,
4. 7.43.2 |   Spending his daies in dolour and despaire,
4. 7.43.3 |   And through long fasting woxen pale and wan,
4. 7.43.4 |   All ouergrowen with rude and rugged haire;
4. 7.43.5 |   That albeit his owne deare Squire he were,
4. 7.43.6 |   Yet he him knew not, ne auiz'd at all,
4. 7.43.7 |   But like strange wight, whom he had seene no where,
4. 7.43.8 |   Saluting him, gan into speach to fall,
4. 7.43.9 | And pitty much his plight, that liu'd like outcast thrall.

4. 7.44.1 | But to his speach he aunswered no whit,
4. 7.44.2 |   But stood still mute, as if he had beene dum,
4. 7.44.3 |   Ne signe of sence did shew, ne common wit,
4. 7.44.4 |   As one with griefe and anguishe ouercum,
4. 7.44.5 |   And vnto euery thing did aunswere mum:
4. 7.44.6 |   And euer when the Prince vnto him spake,
4. 7.44.7 |   He louted lowly, as did him becum,
4. 7.44.8 |   And humble homage did vnto him make,
4. 7.44.9 | Midst sorrow shewing ioyous semblance for his sake.

4. 7.45.1 | At which his vncouth guise and vsage quaint
4. 7.45.2 |   The Prince did wonder much, yet could not ghesse
4. 7.45.3 |   The cause of that his sorrowfull constraint;
4. 7.45.4 |   Yet weend by secret signes of manlinesse,
4. 7.45.5 |   Which close appeard in that rude brutishnesse,
4. 7.45.6 |   That he whilome some gentle swaine had beene,
4. 7.45.7 |   Traind vp in feats of armes and knightlinesse;
4. 7.45.8 |   Which he obseru'd, by that he him had seene
4. 7.45.9 | To weld his naked sword, and try the edges keene.

4. 7.46.1 | And eke by that he saw on euery tree,
4. 7.46.2 |   How he the name of one engrauen had,
4. 7.46.3 |   Which likly was his liefest loue to be,
4. 7.46.4 |   For whom he now so sorely was bestad;
4. 7.46.5 |   Which was by him \BELPHEBE\ rightly rad.
4. 7.46.6 |   Yet who was that \Belphebe\, he ne wist;
4. 7.46.7 |   Yet saw he often how he wexed glad,
4. 7.46.8 |   When he it heard, and how the ground he kist,
4. 7.46.9 | Wherein it written was, and how himselfe he blist:

4. 7.47.1 | Tho when he long had marked his demeanor,
4. 7.47.2 |   And saw that all he said and did, was vaine,
4. 7.47.3 |   Ne ought mote make him change his wonted tenor,
4. 7.47.4 |   Ne ought mote ease or mitigate his paine,
4. 7.47.5 |   He left him there in languor to remaine,
4. 7.47.6 |   Till time for him should remedy prouide,
4. 7.47.7 |   And him restore to former grace againe.
4. 7.47.8 |   Which for it is too long here to abide,
4. 7.47.9 | I will deferre the end vntill another tide.


4. 8. A.1 | \The gentle Squire recouers grace,\
4. 8. A.2 |   \Sclaunder her guests doth staine:\
4. 8. A.3 | \Corflambo chaseth Placidas,\
4. 8. A.4 |   \And is by Arthure slaine.\

4. 8. 1.1 | Well said the wiseman, now prou'd true by this,
4. 8. 1.2 |   Which to this gentle Squire did happen late,
4. 8. 1.3 |   That the displeasure of the mighty is
4. 8. 1.4 |   Then death it selfe more dread and desperate.
4. 8. 1.5 |   For naught the same may calme ne mitigate,
4. 8. 1.6 |   Till time the tempest doe thereof delay
4. 8. 1.7 |   With sufferaunce soft, which rigour can abate,
4. 8. 1.8 |   And haue the sterne remembrance wypt away
4. 8. 1.9 | Of bitter thoughts, which deepe therein infixed lay.

4. 8. 2.1 | Like as it fell to this vnhappy boy,
4. 8. 2.2 |   Whose tender heart the faire \Belphebe\ had
4. 8. 2.3 |   With one sterne looke so daunted, that no ioy
4. 8. 2.4 |   In all his life, which afterwards he lad,
4. 8. 2.5 |   He euer tasted, but with penaunce sad
4. 8. 2.6 |   And pensiue sorrow pind and wore away,
4. 8. 2.7 |   Ne euer laught, ne once shew'd countenance glad;
4. 8. 2.8 |   But alwaies wept and wailed night and day,
4. 8. 2.9 | As blasted bloosme through heat doth languish and decay;

4. 8. 3.1 | Till on a day, as in his wonted wise
4. 8. 3.2 |   His doole he made, there chaunst a turtle Doue
4. 8. 3.3 |   To come, where he his dolors did deuise,
4. 8. 3.4 |   That likewise late had lost her dearest loue,
4. 8. 3.5 |   Which losse her made like passion also proue.
4. 8. 3.6 |   Who seeing his sad plight, her tender heart
4. 8. 3.7 |   With deare compassion deeply did emmoue,
4. 8. 3.8 |   That she gan mone his vndeserued smart,
4. 8. 3.9 | And with her dolefull accent beare with him a part.

4. 8. 4.1 | Shee sitting by him as on ground he lay,
4. 8. 4.2 |   Her mournefull notes full piteously did frame,
4. 8. 4.3 |   And thereof made a lamentable lay,
4. 8. 4.4 |   So sensibly compyld, that in the same
4. 8. 4.5 |   Him seemed oft he heard his owne right name.
4. 8. 4.6 |   With that he forth would poure so plenteous teares,
4. 8. 4.7 |   And beat his breast vnworthy of such blame,
4. 8. 4.8 |   And knocke his head, and rend his rugged heares,
4. 8. 4.9 | That could haue perst the hearts of Tigres and of Beares.

4. 8. 5.1 | Thus long this gentle bird to him did vse,
4. 8. 5.2 |   Withouten dread of perill to repaire
4. 8. 5.3 |   Vnto his wonne, and with her mournefull muse
4. 8. 5.4 |   Him to recomfort in his greatest care,
4. 8. 5.5 |   That much did ease his mourning and misfare:
4. 8. 5.6 |   And euery day for guerdon of her song,
4. 8. 5.7 |   He part of his small feast to her would share;
4. 8. 5.8 |   That at the last of all his woe and wrong
4. 8. 5.9 | Companion she became, and so continued long.

4. 8. 6.1 | Vpon a day as she him sate beside,
4. 8. 6.2 |   By chance he certaine miniments forth drew,
4. 8. 6.3 |   Which yet with him as relickes did abide
4. 8. 6.4 |   Of all the bounty, which \Belphebe\ threw
4. 8. 6.5 |   On him, whilst goodly grace she did him shew:
4. 8. 6.6 |   Amongst the rest a iewell rich he found,
4. 8. 6.7 |   That was a Ruby of right perfect hew,
4. 8. 6.8 |   Shap'd like a heart, yet bleeding of the wound,
4. 8. 6.9 | And with a litle golden chaine about it bound.

4. 8. 7.1 | The same he tooke, and with a riband new,
4. 8. 7.2 |   In which his Ladies colours were, did bind
4. 8. 7.3 |   About the turtles necke, that with the vew
4. 8. 7.4 |   Did greatly solace his engrieued mind.
4. 8. 7.5 |   All vnawares the bird, when she did find
4. 8. 7.6 |   Her selfe so deckt, her nimble wings displaid,
4. 8. 7.7 |   And flew away, as lightly as the wind:
4. 8. 7.8 |   Which sodaine accident him much dismaid,
4. 8. 7.9 | And looking after long, did marke which way she straid.

4. 8. 8.1 | But when as long he looked had in vaine,
4. 8. 8.2 |   Yet saw her forward still to make her flight,
4. 8. 8.3 |   His weary eie returnd to him againe,
4. 8. 8.4 |   Full of discomfort and disquiet plight,
4. 8. 8.5 |   That both his iuell he had lost so light,
4. 8. 8.6 |   And eke his deare companion of his care.
4. 8. 8.7 |   But that sweet bird departing, flew forth right
4. 8. 8.8 |   Through the wide region of the wastfull aire,
4. 8. 8.9 | Vntill she came where wonned his \Belphebe\ faire.

4. 8. 9.1 | There found she her (as then it did betide)
4. 8. 9.2 |   Sitting in couert shade of arbors sweet,
4. 8. 9.3 |   After late weary toile, which she had tride
4. 8. 9.4 |   In saluage chase, to rest as seem'd her meet.
4. 8. 9.5 |   There she alighting, fell before her feet,
4. 8. 9.6 |   And gan to her her mournfull plaint to make,
4. 8. 9.7 |   As was her wont, thinking to let her weet
4. 8. 9.8 |   The great tormenting griefe, that for her sake
4. 8. 9.9 | Her gentle Squire through her displeasure did pertake.

4. 8.10.1 | She her beholding with attentiue eye,
4. 8.10.2 |   At length did marke about her purple brest
4. 8.10.3 |   That precious iuell, which she formerly
4. 8.10.4 |   Had knowne right well with colourd ribbands drest:
4. 8.10.5 |   Therewith she rose in hast, and her addrest
4. 8.10.6 |   With ready hand it to haue reft away.
4. 8.10.7 |   But the swift bird obayd not her behest,
4. 8.10.8 |   But swaru'd aside, and there againe did stay;
4. 8.10.9 | She follow'd her, and thought againe it to assay.

4. 8.11.1 | And euer when she nigh approcht, the Doue
4. 8.11.2 |   Would flit a litle forward, and then stay,
4. 8.11.3 |   Till she drew neare, and then againe remoue;
4. 8.11.4 |   So tempting her still to pursue the pray,
4. 8.11.5 |   And still from her escaping soft away:
4. 8.11.6 |   Till that at length into that forrest wide,
4. 8.11.7 |   She drew her far, and led with slow delay.
4. 8.11.8 |   In th'=end she her vnto that place did guide,
4. 8.11.9 | Whereas that wofull man in languor did abide.

4. 8.12.1 | Eftsoones she flew vnto his fearelesse hand,
4. 8.12.2 |   And there a piteous ditty new deuiz'd,
4. 8.12.3 |   As if she would haue made him vnderstand,
4. 8.12.4 |   His sorrowes cause to be of her despis'd.
4. 8.12.5 |   Whom when she saw in wretched weedes disguiz'd,
4. 8.12.6 |   With heary glib deform'd, and meiger face,
4. 8.12.7 |   Like ghost late risen from his graue agryz'd,
4. 8.12.8 |   She knew him not, but pittied much his case,
4. 8.12.9 | And wisht it were in her to doe him any grace.

4. 8.13.1 | He her beholding, at her feet downe fell,
4. 8.13.2 |   And kist the ground on which her sole did tread,
4. 8.13.3 |   And washt the same with water, which did well
4. 8.13.4 |   From his moist eies, and like two streames procead,
4. 8.13.5 |   Yet spake no word, whereby she might aread
4. 8.13.6 |   What mister wight he was, or what he ment,
4. 8.13.7 |   But as one daunted with her presence dread,
4. 8.13.8 |   Onely few ruefull lookes vnto her sent,
4. 8.13.9 | As messengers of his true meaning and intent.

4. 8.14.1 | Yet nathemore his meaning she ared,
4. 8.14.2 |   But wondred much at his so selcouth case,
4. 8.14.3 |   And by his persons secret seemlyhed
4. 8.14.4 |   Well weend, that he had beene some man of place,
4. 8.14.5 |   Before misfortune did his hew deface:
4. 8.14.6 |   That being mou'd with ruth she thus bespake.
4. 8.14.7 |   Ah wofull man, what heauens hard disgrace,
4. 8.14.8 |   Or wrath of cruell wight on thee ywrake?
4. 8.14.9 | Or selfe disliked life doth thee thus wretched make?

4. 8.15.1 | If heauen, then none may it redresse or blame,
4. 8.15.2 |   Sith to his powre we all are subiect borne:
4. 8.15.3 |   If wrathfull wight, then fowle rebuke and shame
4. 8.15.4 |   Be theirs, that haue so cruell thee forlorne;
4. 8.15.5 |   But if through inward griefe or wilfull scorne
4. 8.15.6 |   Of life it be, then better doe aduise.
4. 8.15.7 |   For he whose daies in wilfull woe are worne,
4. 8.15.8 |   The grace of his Creator doth despise,
4. 8.15.9 | That will not vse his gifts for thanklesse nigardise.

4. 8.16.1 | When so he heard her say, eftsoones he brake
4. 8.16.2 |   His sodaine silence, which he long had pent,
4. 8.16.3 |   And sighing inly deepe, her thus bespake;
4. 8.16.4 |   Then haue they all themselues against me bent:
4. 8.16.5 |   For heauen, first author of my languishment,
4. 8.16.6 |   Enuying my too great felicity,
4. 8.16.7 |   Did closely with a cruell one consent,
4. 8.16.8 |   To cloud my daies in dolefull misery,
4. 8.16.9 | And make me loath this life, still longing for to die.

4. 8.17.1 | Ne any but your selfe, O dearest dred,
4. 8.17.2 |   Hath done this wrong, to wreake on worthlesse wight
4. 8.17.3 |   Your high displesure, through misdeeming bred:
4. 8.17.4 |   That when your pleasure is to deeme aright,
4. 8.17.5 |   Ye may redresse, and me restore to light.
4. 8.17.6 |   Which sory words her mightie hart did mate
4. 8.17.7 |   With mild regard, to see his ruefull plight,
4. 8.17.8 |   That her inburning wrath she gan abate,
4. 8.17.9 | And him receiu'd againe to former fauours state.

4. 8.18.1 | In which he long time afterwards did lead
4. 8.18.2 |   An happie life with grace and good accord,
4. 8.18.3 |   Fearlesse of fortunes chaunge or enuies dread,
4. 8.18.4 |   And eke all mindlesse of his owne deare Lord
4. 8.18.5 |   The noble Prince, who neuer heard one word
4. 8.18.6 |   Of tydings, what did vnto him betide,
4. 8.18.7 |   Or what good fortune did to him afford,
4. 8.18.8 |   But through the endlesse world did wander wide,
4. 8.18.9 | Him seeking euermore, yet no where him descride.

4. 8.19.1 | Till on a day as through that wood he rode,
4. 8.19.2 |   He chaunst to come where those two Ladies late,
4. 8.19.3 |   \A+Emylia\ and \Amoret\ abode,
4. 8.19.4 |   Both in full sad and sorrowfull estate;
4. 8.19.5 |   The one right feeble through the euill rate
4. 8.19.6 |   Of food, which in her duresse she had found:
4. 8.19.7 |   The other almost dead and desperate
4. 8.19.8 |   Through her late hurts, and through that haplesse wound,
4. 8.19.9 | With which the Squire in her defence her sore astound.

4. 8.20.1 | Whom when the Prince beheld, he gan to rew
4. 8.20.2 |   The euill case in which those Ladies lay;
4. 8.20.3 |   But most was moued at the piteous vew
4. 8.20.4 |   Of \Amoret\, so neare vnto decay,
4. 8.20.5 |   That her great daunger did him much dismay.
4. 8.20.6 |   Eftsoones that pretious liquour forth he drew,
4. 8.20.7 |   Which he in store about him kept alway,
4. 8.20.8 |   And with few drops thereof did softly dew
4. 8.20.9 | Her wounds, that vnto strength restor'd her soone anew.

4. 8.21.1 | Tho when they both recouered were right well,
4. 8.21.2 |   He gan of them inquire, what euill guide
4. 8.21.3 |   Them thether brought, and how their harmes befell.
4. 8.21.4 |   To whom they told all, that did them betide,
4. 8.21.5 |   And how from thraldome vile they were vntide
4. 8.21.6 |   Of that same wicked Carle, by Virgins hond;
4. 8.21.7 |   Whose bloudie corse they shew'd him there beside,
4. 8.21.8 |   And eke his caue, in which they both were bond:
4. 8.21.9 | At which he wondred much, when all those signes he fond.

4. 8.22.1 | And euermore he greatly did desire
4. 8.22.2 |   To know, what Virgin did them thence vnbind;
4. 8.22.3 |   And oft of them did earnestly inquire,
4. 8.22.4 |   Where was her won, and how he mote her find.
4. 8.22.5 |   But when as nought according to his mind
4. 8.22.6 |   He could outlearne, he them from ground did reare:
4. 8.22.7 |   No seruice lothsome to a gentle kind;
4. 8.22.8 |   And on his warlike beast them both did beare,
4. 8.22.9 | Himselfe by them on foot, to succour them from feare.

4. 8.23.1 | So when that forrest they had passed well,
4. 8.23.2 |   A litle cotage farre away they spide,
4. 8.23.3 |   To which they drew, ere night vpon them fell;
4. 8.23.4 |   And entring in, found none therein abide,
4. 8.23.5 |   But one old woman sitting there beside,
4. 8.23.6 |   Vpon the ground in ragged rude attyre,
4. 8.23.7 |   With filthy lockes about her scattered wide,
4. 8.23.8 |   Gnawing her nayles for felnesse and for yre,
4. 8.23.9 | And there out sucking venime to her parts entyre.

4. 8.24.1 | A foule and loathly creature sure in sight,
4. 8.24.2 |   And in conditions to be loath'd no lesse:
4. 8.24.3 |   For she was stuft with rancour and despight
4. 8.24.4 |   Vp to the throat, that oft with bitternesse
4. 8.24.5 |   It forth would breake, and gush in great excesse,
4. 8.24.6 |   Pouring out streames of poyson and of gall
4. 8.24.7 |   Gainst all, that truth or vertue doe professe,
4. 8.24.8 |   Whom she with leasings lewdly did miscall,
4. 8.24.9 | And wickedly backbite: Her name men \Sclaunder\ call.

4. 8.25.1 | Her nature is all goodnesse to abuse,
4. 8.25.2 |   And causelesse crimes continually to frame,
4. 8.25.3 |   With which she guiltlesse persons may accuse,
4. 8.25.4 |   And steale away the crowne of their good name;
4. 8.25.5 |   Ne euer Knight so bold, ne euer Dame
4. 8.25.6 |   So chast and loyall liu'd, but she would striue
4. 8.25.7 |   With forged cause them falsely to defame;
4. 8.25.8 |   Ne euer thing so well was doen aliue,
4. 8.25.9 | But she with blame would blot, and of due praise depriue.

4. 8.26.1 | Her words were not, as common words are ment,
4. 8.26.2 |   T'=expresse the meaning of the inward mind,
4. 8.26.3 |   But noysome breath, and poysnous spirit sent
4. 8.26.4 |   From inward parts, with cancred malice lind,
4. 8.26.5 |   And breathed forth with blast of bitter wind;
4. 8.26.6 |   Which passing through the eares, would pierce the hart,
4. 8.26.7 |   And wound the soule it selfe with griefe vnkind:
4. 8.26.8 |   For like the stings of Aspes, that kill with smart,
4. 8.26.9 | Her spightfull words did pricke, and wound the inner part.

4. 8.27.1 | Such was that Hag, vnmeet to host such guests,
4. 8.27.2 |   Whom greatest Princes court would welcome fayne,
4. 8.27.3 |   But neede, that answers not to all requests,
4. 8.27.4 |   Bad them not looke for better entertayne;
4. 8.27.5 |   And eke that age despysed nicenesse vaine,
4. 8.27.6 |   Enur'd to hardnesse and to homely fare,
4. 8.27.7 |   Which them to warlike discipline did trayne,
4. 8.27.8 |   And manly limbs endur'd with litle care
4. 8.27.9 | Against all hard mishaps and fortunelesse misfare.

4. 8.28.1 | Then all that euening welcommed with cold,
4. 8.28.2 |   And chearelesse hunger, they together spent;
4. 8.28.3 |   Yet found no fault, but that the Hag did scold
4. 8.28.4 |   And rayle at them with grudgefull discontent,
4. 8.28.5 |   For lodging there without her owne consent:
4. 8.28.6 |   Yet they endured all with patience milde,
4. 8.28.7 |   And vnto rest themselues all onely lent,
4. 8.28.8 |   Regardlesse of that queane so base and vilde,
4. 8.28.9 | To be vniustly blamd, and bitterly reuilde.

4. 8.29.1 | Here well I weene, when as these rimes be red
4. 8.29.2 |   With misregard, that some rash witted wight,
4. 8.29.3 |   Whose looser thought will lightly be misled,
4. 8.29.4 |   These gentle Ladies will misdeeme too light,
4. 8.29.5 |   For thus conuersing with this noble Knight;
4. 8.29.6 |   Sith now of dayes such temperance is rare
4. 8.29.7 |   And hard to finde, that heat of youthfull spright
4. 8.29.8 |   For ought will from his greedie pleasure spare,
4. 8.29.9 | More hard for hungry steed t'=abstaine from pleasant lare.

4. 8.30.1 | But antique age yet in the infancie
4. 8.30.2 |   Of time, did liue then like an innocent,
4. 8.30.3 |   In simple truth and blamelesse chastitie,
4. 8.30.4 |   Ne then of guile had made experiment,
4. 8.30.5 |   But voide of vile and treacherous intent,
4. 8.30.6 |   Held vertue for it selfe in soueraine awe:
4. 8.30.7 |   Then loyall loue had royall regiment,
4. 8.30.8 |   And each vnto his lust did make a lawe,
4. 8.30.9 | From all forbidden things his liking to withdraw.

4. 8.31.1 | The Lyon there did with the Lambe consort,
4. 8.31.2 |   And eke the Doue sate by the Faulcons side,
4. 8.31.3 |   Ne each of other feared fraud or tort,
4. 8.31.4 |   But did in safe securitie abide,
4. 8.31.5 |   Withouten perill of the stronger pride:
4. 8.31.6 |   But when the world woxe old, it woxe warre old
4. 8.31.7 |   (Whereof it hight) and hauing shortly tride
4. 8.31.8 |   The traines of wit, in wickednesse woxe bold,
4. 8.31.9 | And dared of all sinnes the secrets to vnfold.

4. 8.32.1 | Then beautie, which was made to represent
4. 8.32.2 |   The great Creatours owne resemblance bright,
4. 8.32.3 |   Vnto abuse of lawlesse lust was lent,
4. 8.32.4 |   And made the baite of bestiall delight:
4. 8.32.5 |   Then faire grew foule, and foule grew faire in sight,
4. 8.32.6 |   And that which wont to vanquish God and man,
4. 8.32.7 |   Was made the vassall of the victors might;
4. 8.32.8 |   Then did her glorious flowre wex dead and wan,
4. 8.32.9 | Despisd and troden downe of all that ouerran.

4. 8.33.1 | And now it is so vtterly decayd,
4. 8.33.2 |   That any bud thereof doth scarse remaine,
4. 8.33.3 |   But if few plants preseru'd through heauenly ayd,
4. 8.33.4 |   In Princes Court doe hap to sprout againe,
4. 8.33.5 |   Dew'd with her drops of bountie Soueraine,
4. 8.33.6 |   Which from that goodly glorious flowre proceed,
4. 8.33.7 |   Sprung of the auncient stocke of Princes straine,
4. 8.33.8 |   Now th'=onely remnant of that royall breed,
4. 8.33.9 | Whose noble kind at first was sure of heauenly seed.

4. 8.34.1 | Tho soone as day discouered heauens face
4. 8.34.2 |   To sinfull men with darknes ouerdight,
4. 8.34.3 |   This gentle crew gan from their eye-lids chace
4. 8.34.4 |   The drowzie humour of the dampish night,
4. 8.34.5 |   And did themselues vnto their iourney dight.
4. 8.34.6 |   So forth they yode, and forward softly paced,
4. 8.34.7 |   That them to view had bene an vncouth sight;
4. 8.34.8 |   How all the way the Prince on footpace traced,
4. 8.34.9 | The Ladies both on horse, together fast embraced.

4. 8.35.1 | Soone as they thence departed were afore,
4. 8.35.2 |   That shamefull Hag, the slaunder of her sexe,
4. 8.35.3 |   Them follow'd fast, and them reuiled sore,
4. 8.35.4 |   Him calling theefe, them whores; that much did vexe
4. 8.35.5 |   His noble hart; thereto she did annexe
4. 8.35.6 |   False crimes and facts, such as they neuer ment,
4. 8.35.7 |   That those two Ladies much asham'd did wexe:
4. 8.35.8 |   The more did she pursue her lewd intent,
4. 8.35.9 | And rayl'd and rag'd, till she had all her poyson spent.

4. 8.36.1 | At last when they were passed out of sight,
4. 8.36.2 |   Yet she did not her spightfull speach forbeare,
4. 8.36.3 |   But after them did barke, and still backbite,
4. 8.36.4 |   Though there were none her hatefull words to heare:
4. 8.36.5 |   Like as a curre doth felly bite and teare
4. 8.36.6 |   The stone, which passed straunger at him threw;
4. 8.36.7 |   So she them seeing past the reach of eare,
4. 8.36.8 |   Against the stones and trees did rayle anew,
4. 8.36.9 | Till she had duld the sting, which in her tongs end grew.

4. 8.37.1 | They passing forth kept on their readie way,
4. 8.37.2 |   With easie steps so soft as foot could stryde,
4. 8.37.3 |   Both for great feeblesse, which did oft assay
4. 8.37.4 |   Faire \Amoret\, that scarcely she could ryde,
4. 8.37.5 |   And eke through heauie armes, which sore annoyd
4. 8.37.6 |   The Prince on foot, not wonted so to fare;
4. 8.37.7 |   Whose steadie hand was faine his steede to guyde,
4. 8.37.8 |   And all the way from trotting hard to spare,
4. 8.37.9 | So was his toyle the more, the more that was his care.

4. 8.38.1 | At length they spide, where towards them with speed
4. 8.38.2 |   A Squire came gallopping, as he would flie;
4. 8.38.3 |   Bearing a litle Dwarfe before his steed,
4. 8.38.4 |   That all the way full loud for aide did crie,
4. 8.38.5 |   That seem'd his shrikes would rend the brasen skie:
4. 8.38.6 |   Whom after did a mightie man pursew,
4. 8.38.7 |   Ryding vpon a Dromedare on hie,
4. 8.38.8 |   Of stature huge, and horrible of hew,
4. 8.38.9 | That would haue maz'd a man his dreadfull face to vew.

4. 8.39.1 | For from his fearefull eyes two fierie beames,
4. 8.39.2 |   More sharpe then points of needles did proceede,
4. 8.39.3 |   Shooting forth farre away two flaming streames,
4. 8.39.4 |   Full of sad powre, that poysonous bale did breede
4. 8.39.5 |   To all, that on him lookt without good heed,
4. 8.39.6 |   And secretly his enemies did slay:
4. 8.39.7 |   Like as the Basiliske of serpents seede,
4. 8.39.8 |   From powrefull eyes close venim doth conuay
4. 8.39.9 | Into the lookers hart, and killeth farre away.

4. 8.40.1 | He all the way did rage at that same Squire,
4. 8.40.2 |   And after him full many threatnings threw,
4. 8.40.3 |   With curses vaine in his auengefull ire:
4. 8.40.4 |   But none of them (so fast away he flew)
4. 8.40.5 |   Him ouertooke, before he came in vew.
4. 8.40.6 |   Where when he saw the Prince in armour bright,
4. 8.40.7 |   He cald to him aloud, his case to rew,
4. 8.40.8 |   And rescue him through succour of his might,
4. 8.40.9 | From that his cruell foe, that him pursewd in sight.

4. 8.41.1 | Eftsoones the Prince tooke downe those Ladies twaine
4. 8.41.2 |   From loftie steede, and mounting in their stead
4. 8.41.3 |   Came to that Squire, yet trembling euery vaine:
4. 8.41.4 |   Of whom he gan enquire his cause of dread;
4. 8.41.5 |   Who as he gan the same to him aread,
4. 8.41.6 |   Loe hard behind his backe his foe was prest,
4. 8.41.7 |   With dreadfull weapon aymed at his head,
4. 8.41.8 |   That vnto death had doen him vnredrest,
4. 8.41.9 | Had not the noble Prince his readie stroke represt.

4. 8.42.1 | Who thrusting boldly twixt him and the blow,
4. 8.42.2 |   The burden of the deadly brunt did beare
4. 8.42.3 |   Vpon his shield, which lightly he did throw
4. 8.42.4 |   Ouer his head, before the harme came neare.
4. 8.42.5 |   Nathlesse it fell with so despiteous dreare
4. 8.42.6 |   And heauie sway, that hard vnto his crowne
4. 8.42.7 |   The shield it droue, and did the couering reare,
4. 8.42.8 |   Therewith both Squire and dwarfe did tomble downe
4. 8.42.9 | Vnto the earth, and lay long while in senselesse swowne.

4. 8.43.1 | Whereat the Prince full wrath, his strong right hand
4. 8.43.2 |   In full auengement heaued vp on hie,
4. 8.43.3 |   And stroke the Pagan with his steely brand
4. 8.43.4 |   So sore, that to his saddle bow thereby
4. 8.43.5 |   He bowed low, and so a while did lie:
4. 8.43.6 |   And sure had not his massie yron mace
4. 8.43.7 |   Betwixt him and his hurt bene happily,
4. 8.43.8 |   It would haue cleft him to the girding place,
4. 8.43.9 | Yet as it was, it did astonish him long space.

4. 8.44.1 | But when he to himselfe returnd againe,
4. 8.44.2 |   All full of rage he gan to curse and sweare,
4. 8.44.3 |   And vow by \Mahoune\ that he should be slaine.
4. 8.44.4 |   With that his murdrous mace he vp did reare,
4. 8.44.5 |   That seemed nought the souse thereof could beare,
4. 8.44.6 |   And therewith smote at him with all his might.
4. 8.44.7 |   But ere that it to him approched neare,
4. 8.44.8 |   The royall child with readie quicke foresight,
4. 8.44.9 | Did shun the proofe thereof and it auoyded light.

4. 8.45.1 | But ere his hand he could recure againe,
4. 8.45.2 |   To ward his bodie from the balefull stound,
4. 8.45.3 |   He smote at him with all his might and maine,
4. 8.45.4 |   So furiously, that ere he wist, he found
4. 8.45.5 |   His head before him tombling on the ground.
4. 8.45.6 |   The whiles his babling tongue did yet blaspheme
4. 8.45.7 |   And curse his God, that did him so confound;
4. 8.45.8 |   The whiles his life ran foorth in bloudie streame,
4. 8.45.9 | His soule descended downe into the Stygian reame.

4. 8.46.1 | Which when that Squire beheld, he woxe full glad
4. 8.46.2 |   To see his foe breath out his spright in vaine:
4. 8.46.3 |   But that same dwarfe right sorie seem'd and sad,
4. 8.46.4 |   And howld aloud to see his Lord there slaine,
4. 8.46.5 |   And rent his haire and scratcht his face for paine.
4. 8.46.6 |   Then gan the Prince at leasure to inquire
4. 8.46.7 |   Of all the accident, there hapned plaine,
4. 8.46.8 |   And what he was, whose eyes did flame with fire;
4. 8.46.9 | All which was thus to him declared by that Squire.

4. 8.47.1 | This mightie man (quoth he) whom you haue slaine,
4. 8.47.2 |   Of an huge Geauntesse whylome was bred;
4. 8.47.3 |   And by his strength rule to himselfe did gaine
4. 8.47.4 |   Of many Nations into thraldome led,
4. 8.47.5 |   And mightie kingdomes of his force adred;
4. 8.47.6 |   Whom yet he conquer'd not by bloudie fight,
4. 8.47.7 |   Ne hostes of men with banners brode dispred,
4. 8.47.8 |   But by the powre of his infectious sight,
4. 8.47.9 | With which he killed all, that came within his might.

4. 8.48.1 | Ne was he euer vanquished afore,
4. 8.48.2 |   But euer vanquisht all, with whom he fought;
4. 8.48.3 |   Ne was there man so strong, but he downe bore,
4. 8.48.4 |   Ne woman yet so faire, but he her brought
4. 8.48.5 |   Vnto his bay, and captiued her thought.
4. 8.48.6 |   For most of strength and beautie his desire
4. 8.48.7 |   Was spoyle to make, and wast them vnto nought,
4. 8.48.8 |   By casting secret flakes of lustfull fire
4. 8.48.9 | From his false eyes, into their harts and parts entire.

4. 8.49.1 | Therefore \Corflambo\ was he cald aright,
4. 8.49.2 |   Though namelesse there his bodie now doth lie,
4. 8.49.3 |   Yet hath he left one daughter that is hight
4. 8.49.4 |   The faire \Po+eana\; who seemes outwardly
4. 8.49.5 |   So faire, as euer yet saw liuing eie:
4. 8.49.6 |   And were her vertue like her beautie bright,
4. 8.49.7 |   She were as faire as any vnder skie.
4. 8.49.8 |   But ah she giuen is to vaine delight,
4. 8.49.9 | And eke too loose of life, and eke of loue too light.

4. 8.50.1 | So as it fell there was a gentle Squire,
4. 8.50.2 |   That lou'd a Ladie of high parentage,
4. 8.50.3 |   But for his meane degree might not aspire
4. 8.50.4 |   To match so high, her friends with counsell sage,
4. 8.50.5 |   Dissuaded her from such a disparage.
4. 8.50.6 |   But she, whose hart to loue was wholly lent,
4. 8.50.7 |   Out of his hands could not redeeme her gage,
4. 8.50.8 |   But firmely following her first intent,
4. 8.50.9 | Resolu'd with him to wend, gainst all her friends consent.

4. 8.51.1 | So twixt themselues they pointed time and place,
4. 8.51.2 |   To which when he according did repaire,
4. 8.51.3 |   An hard mishap and disauentrous case
4. 8.51.4 |   Him chaunst; in stead of his \A+Emylia\ faire
4. 8.51.5 |   This Gyants sonne, that lies there on the laire
4. 8.51.6 |   An headlesse heape, him vnawares there caught,
4. 8.51.7 |   And all dismayd through mercilesse despaire,
4. 8.51.8 |   Him wretched thrall vnto his dongeon brought,
4. 8.51.9 | Where he remaines, of all vnsuccour'd and vnsought.

4. 8.52.1 | This Gyants daughter came vpon a day
4. 8.52.2 |   Vnto the prison in her ioyous glee,
4. 8.52.3 |   To view the thrals, which there in bondage lay:
4. 8.52.4 |   Amongst the rest she chaunced there to see
4. 8.52.5 |   This louely swaine the Squire of low degree;
4. 8.52.6 |   To whom she did her liking lightly cast,
4. 8.52.7 |   And wooed him her paramour to bee:
4. 8.52.8 |   From day to day she woo'd and prayd him fast,
4. 8.52.9 | And for his loue him promist libertie at last.

4. 8.53.1 | He though affide vnto a former loue,
4. 8.53.2 |   To whom his faith he firmely ment to hold,
4. 8.53.3 |   Yet seeing not how thence he mote remoue,
4. 8.53.4 |   But by that meanes, which fortune did vnfold,
4. 8.53.5 |   Her graunted loue, but with affection cold
4. 8.53.6 |   To win her grace his libertie to get.
4. 8.53.7 |   Yet she him still detaines in captiue hold,
4. 8.53.8 |   Fearing least if she should him freely set,
4. 8.53.9 | He would her shortly leaue, and former loue forget.

4. 8.54.1 | Yet so much fauour she to him hath hight,
4. 8.54.2 |   Aboue the rest, that he sometimes may space
4. 8.54.3 |   And walke about her gardens of delight,
4. 8.54.4 |   Hauing a keeper still with him in place,
4. 8.54.5 |   Which keeper is this Dwarfe, her dearling base,
4. 8.54.6 |   To whom the keyes of euery prison dore
4. 8.54.7 |   By her committed be, of speciall grace,
4. 8.54.8 |   And at his will may whom he list restore,
4. 8.54.9 | And whom he list reserue, to be afflicted more.

4. 8.55.1 | Whereof when tydings came vnto mine eare,
4. 8.55.2 |   Full inly sorie for the feruent zeale,
4. 8.55.3 |   Which I to him as to my soule did beare;
4. 8.55.4 |   I thether went where I did long conceale
4. 8.55.5 |   My selfe, till that the Dwarfe did me reueale,
4. 8.55.6 |   And told his Dame, her Squire of low degree
4. 8.55.7 |   Did secretly out of her prison steale;
4. 8.55.8 |   For me he did mistake that Squire to bee;
4. 8.55.9 | For neuer two so like did liuing creature see.

4. 8.56.1 | Then was I taken and before her brought,
4. 8.56.2 |   Who through the likenesse of my outward hew,
4. 8.56.3 |   Being likewise beguiled in her thought,
4. 8.56.4 |   Gan blame me much for being so vntrew,
4. 8.56.5 |   To seeke by flight her fellowship t'=eschew,
4. 8.56.6 |   That lou'd me deare, as dearest thing aliue.
4. 8.56.7 |   Thence she commaunded me to prison new;
4. 8.56.8 |   Whereof I glad did not gainesay nor striue,
4. 8.56.9 | But suffred that same Dwarfe me to her dongeon driue.

4. 8.57.1 | There did I finde mine onely faithfull frend
4. 8.57.2 |   In heauy plight and sad perplexitie;
4. 8.57.3 |   Whereof I sorie, yet my selfe did bend,
4. 8.57.4 |   Him to recomfort with my companie.
4. 8.57.5 |   But him the more agreeu'd I found thereby:
4. 8.57.6 |   For all his ioy, he said, in that distresse
4. 8.57.7 |   Was mine and his \A+Emylias\ libertie.
4. 8.57.8 |   \A+Emylia\ well he lou'd, as I mote ghesse;
4. 8.57.9 | Yet greater loue to me then her he did professe.

4. 8.58.1 | But I with better reason him auiz'd,
4. 8.58.2 |   And shew'd him how through error and mis-thought
4. 8.58.3 |   Of our like persons eath to be disguiz'd,
4. 8.58.4 |   Or his exchange, or freedome might be wrought.
4. 8.58.5 |   Whereto full loth was he, ne would for ought
4. 8.58.6 |   Consent, that I who stood all fearelesse free,
4. 8.58.7 |   Should wilfully be into thraldome brought,
4. 8.58.8 |   Till fortune did perforce it so decree.
4. 8.58.9 | Yet ouerrul'd at last, he did to me agree.

4. 8.59.1 | The morrow next about the wonted howre,
4. 8.59.2 |   The Dwarfe cald at the doore of \Amyas\,
4. 8.59.3 |   To come forthwith vnto his Ladies bowre.
4. 8.59.4 |   In steed of whom forth came I \Placidas\,
4. 8.59.5 |   And vndiscerned, forth with him did pas.
4. 8.59.6 |   There with great ioyance and with gladsome glee,
4. 8.59.7 |   Of faire \Po+eana\ I receiued was,
4. 8.59.8 |   And oft imbrast, as if that I were hee,
4. 8.59.9 | And with kind words accoyd, vowing great loue to mee.

4. 8.60.1 | Which I, that was not bent to former loue,
4. 8.60.2 |   As was my friend, that had her long refusd,
4. 8.60.3 |   Did well accept, as well it did behoue,
4. 8.60.4 |   And to the present neede it wisely vsd.
4. 8.60.5 |   My former hardnesse first I faire excusd;
4. 8.60.6 |   And after promist large amends to make.
4. 8.60.7 |   With such smooth termes her error I abusd,
4. 8.60.8 |   To my friends good, more then for mine owne sake,
4. 8.60.9 | For whose sole libertie I loue and life did stake.

4. 8.61.1 | Thenceforth I found more fauour at her hand,
4. 8.61.2 |   That to her Dwarfe, which had me in his charge,
4. 8.61.3 |   She bad to lighten my too heauie band,
4. 8.61.4 |   And graunt more scope to me to walke at large.
4. 8.61.5 |   So on a day as by the flowrie marge
4. 8.61.6 |   Of a fresh streame I with that Elfe did play,
4. 8.61.7 |   Finding no meanes how I might vs enlarge,
4. 8.61.8 |   But if that Dwarfe I could with me conuay,
4. 8.61.9 | I lightly snatcht him vp, and with me bore away.

4. 8.62.1 | Thereat he shriekt aloud, that with his cry
4. 8.62.2 |   The Tyrant selfe came forth with yelling bray,
4. 8.62.3 |   And me pursew'd; but nathemore would I
4. 8.62.4 |   Forgoe the purchase of my gotten pray,
4. 8.62.5 |   But haue perforce him hether brought away.
4. 8.62.6 |   Thus as they talked, loe where nigh at hand
4. 8.62.7 |   Those Ladies two yet doubtfull through dismay
4. 8.62.8 |   In presence came, desirous t'=vnderstand
4. 8.62.9 | Tydings of all, which there had hapned on the land.

4. 8.63.1 | Where soone as sad \A+Emylia\ did espie
4. 8.63.2 |   Her captiue louers friend, young \Placidas\;
4. 8.63.3 |   All mindlesse of her wonted modestie,
4. 8.63.4 |   She to him ran, and him with streight embras
4. 8.63.5 |   Enfolding said, And liues yet \Amyas\?
4. 8.63.6 |   He liues (quoth he) and his \A+Emylia\ loues.
4. 8.63.7 |   Then lesse (said she) by all the woe I pas,
4. 8.63.8 |   With which my weaker patience fortune proues.
4. 8.63.9 | But what mishap thus long him fro my selfe remoues?

4. 8.64.1 | Then gan he all this storie to renew,
4. 8.64.2 |   And tell the course of his captiuitie;
4. 8.64.3 |   That her deare hart full deepely made to rew,
4. 8.64.4 |   And sigh full sore, to heare the miserie,
4. 8.64.5 |   In which so long he mercilesse did lie.
4. 8.64.6 |   Then after many teares and sorrowes spent,
4. 8.64.7 |   She deare besought the Prince of remedie:
4. 8.64.8 |   Who thereto did with readie will consent,
4. 8.64.9 | And well perform'd, as shall appeare by his euent.


4. 9. A.1 | \The Squire of low degree releast\
4. 9. A.2 |   \Po+eana takes to wife:\
4. 9. A.3 | \Britomart fightes with many Knights,\
4. 9. A.4 |   \Prince Arthur stints their strife.\

4. 9. 1.1 | Hard is the doubt, and difficult to deeme,
4. 9. 1.2 |   When all three kinds of loue together meet,
4. 9. 1.3 |   And doe dispart the hart with powre extreme,
4. 9. 1.4 |   Whether shall weigh the balance downe; to weet
4. 9. 1.5 |   The deare affection vnto kindred sweet,
4. 9. 1.6 |   Or raging fire of loue to woman kind,
4. 9. 1.7 |   Or zeale of friends combynd with vertues meet.
4. 9. 1.8 |   But of them all the band of vertuous mind
4. 9. 1.9 | Me seemes the gentle hart should most assured bind.

4. 9. 2.1 | For naturall affection soone doth cesse,
4. 9. 2.2 |   And quenched is with \Cupids\ greater flame:
4. 9. 2.3 |   But faithfull friendship doth them both suppresse,
4. 9. 2.4 |   And them with maystring discipline doth tame,
4. 9. 2.5 |   Through thoughts aspyring to eternall fame.
4. 9. 2.6 |   For as the soule doth rule the earthly masse,
4. 9. 2.7 |   And all the seruice of the bodie frame,
4. 9. 2.8 |   So loue of soule doth loue of bodie passe,
4. 9. 2.9 | No lesse then perfect gold surmounts the meanest brasse.

4. 9. 3.1 | All which who list by tryall to assay,
4. 9. 3.2 |   Shall in this storie find approued plaine;
4. 9. 3.3 |   In which these Squires true friendship more did sway,
4. 9. 3.4 |   Then either care of parents could refraine,
4. 9. 3.5 |   Or loue of fairest Ladie could constraine.
4. 9. 3.6 |   For though \Po+eana\ were as faire as morne,
4. 9. 3.7 |   Yet did this trustie Squire with proud disdaine
4. 9. 3.8 |   For his friends sake her offred fauours scorne,
4. 9. 3.9 | And she her selfe her syre, of whom she was yborne.

4. 9. 4.1 | Now after that Prince \Arthur\ graunted had,
4. 9. 4.2 |   To yeeld strong succour to that gentle swayne,
4. 9. 4.3 |   Who now long time had lyen in prison sad,
4. 9. 4.4 |   He gan aduise how best he mote darrayne
4. 9. 4.5 |   That enterprize, for greatest glories gayne.
4. 9. 4.6 |   That headlesse tyrants tronke he reard from ground,
4. 9. 4.7 |   And hauing ympt the head to it agayne,
4. 9. 4.8 |   Vpon his vsuall beast it firmely bound,
4. 9. 4.9 | And made it so to ride, as it aliue was found.

4. 9. 5.1 | Then did he take that chaced Squire, and layd
4. 9. 5.2 |   Before the ryder, as he captiue were,
4. 9. 5.3 |   And made his Dwarfe, though with vnwilling ayd,
4. 9. 5.4 |   To guide the beast, that did his maister beare,
4. 9. 5.5 |   Till to his castle they approched neare.
4. 9. 5.6 |   Whom when the watch, that kept continuall ward
4. 9. 5.7 |   Saw comming home; all voide of doubtfull feare,
4. 9. 5.8 |   He running downe, the gate to him vnbard;
4. 9. 5.9 | Whom straight the Prince ensuing, in together far'd.

4. 9. 6.1 | There he did find in her delitious boure
4. 9. 6.2 |   The faire \Po+eana\ playing on a Rote,
4. 9. 6.3 |   Complayning of her cruell Paramoure,
4. 9. 6.4 |   And singing all her sorrow to the note,
4. 9. 6.5 |   As she had learned readily by rote.
4. 9. 6.6 |   That with the sweetnesse of her rare delight,
4. 9. 6.7 |   The Prince halfe rapt, began on her to dote:
4. 9. 6.8 |   Till better him bethinking of the right,
4. 9. 6.9 | He her vnwares attacht, and captiue held by might.

4. 9. 7.1 | Whence being forth produc'd, when she perceiued
4. 9. 7.2 |   Her owne deare sire, she cald to him for aide.
4. 9. 7.3 |   But when of him no aunswere she receiued,
4. 9. 7.4 |   But saw him sencelesse by the Squire vpstaide,
4. 9. 7.5 |   She weened well, that then she was betraide:
4. 9. 7.6 |   Then gan she loudly cry, and weepe, and waile,
4. 9. 7.7 |   And that same Squire of treason to vpbraide.
4. 9. 7.8 |   But all in vaine, her plaints might not preuaile,
4. 9. 7.9 | Ne none there was to reskue her, ne none to baile.

4. 9. 8.1 | Then tooke he that same Dwarfe, and him compeld
4. 9. 8.2 |   To open vnto him the prison dore,
4. 9. 8.3 |   And forth to bring those thrals, which there he held.
4. 9. 8.4 |   Thence forth were brought to him aboue a score
4. 9. 8.5 |   Of Knights and Squires to him vnknowne afore:
4. 9. 8.6 |   All which he did from bitter bondage free,
4. 9. 8.7 |   And vnto former liberty restore.
4. 9. 8.8 |   Amongst the rest, that Squire of low degree
4. 9. 8.9 | Came forth full weake and wan, not like him selfe to bee.

4. 9. 9.1 | Whom soone as faire \A+Emylia\ beheld,
4. 9. 9.2 |   And \Placidas\, they both vnto him ran,
4. 9. 9.3 |   And him embracing fast betwixt them held,
4. 9. 9.4 |   Striuing to comfort him all that they can,
4. 9. 9.5 |   And kissing oft his visage pale and wan.
4. 9. 9.6 |   That faire \Po+eana\ them beholding both,
4. 9. 9.7 |   Gan both enuy, and bitterly to ban;
4. 9. 9.8 |   Through iealous passion weeping inly wroth,
4. 9. 9.9 | To see the sight perforce, that both her eyes were loth.

4. 9.10.1 | But when a while they had together beene,
4. 9.10.2 |   And diuersly conferred of their case,
4. 9.10.3 |   She, though full oft she both of them had seene
4. 9.10.4 |   A sunder, yet not euer in one place,
4. 9.10.5 |   Began to doubt, when she them saw embrace,
4. 9.10.6 |   Which was the captiue Squire she lou'd so deare,
4. 9.10.7 |   Deceiued through great likenesse of their face,
4. 9.10.8 |   For they so like in person did appeare,
4. 9.10.9 | That she vneath discerned, whether whether weare.

4. 9.11.1 | And eke the Prince, when as he them auized,
4. 9.11.2 |   Their like resemblaunce much admired there,
4. 9.11.3 |   And mazd how nature had so well disguized
4. 9.11.4 |   Her worke, and counterfet her selfe so nere,
4. 9.11.5 |   As if that by one patterne seene somewhere,
4. 9.11.6 |   She had them made a paragone to be,
4. 9.11.7 |   Or whether it through skill, or errour were.
4. 9.11.8 |   Thus gazing long, at them much wondred he,
4. 9.11.9 | So did the other knights and Squires, which him did see.

4. 9.12.1 | Then gan they ransacke that same Castle strong,
4. 9.12.2 |   In which he found great store of hoorded threasure,
4. 9.12.3 |   The which that tyrant gathered had by wrong
4. 9.12.4 |   And tortious powre, without respect or measure.
4. 9.12.5 |   Vpon all which the Briton Prince made seasure,
4. 9.12.6 |   And afterwards continu'd there a while,
4. 9.12.7 |   To rest him selfe, and solace in soft pleasure
4. 9.12.8 |   Those weaker Ladies after weary toile;
4. 9.12.9 | To whom he did diuide part of his purchast spoile.

4. 9.13.1 | And for more ioy, that captiue Lady faire
4. 9.13.2 |   The faire \Po+eana\ he enlarged free;
4. 9.13.3 |   And by the rest did set in sumptuous chaire,
4. 9.13.4 |   To feast and frollicke; nathemore would she
4. 9.13.5 |   Shew gladsome countenaunce nor pleasaunt glee:
4. 9.13.6 |   But grieued was for losse both of her sire,
4. 9.13.7 |   And eke of Lordship, with both land and fee:
4. 9.13.8 |   But most she touched was with griefe entire,
4. 9.13.9 | For losse of her new loue, the hope of her desire.

4. 9.14.1 | But her the Prince through his well wonted grace,
4. 9.14.2 |   To better termes of myldnesse did entreat,
4. 9.14.3 |   From that fowle rudenesse, which did her deface;
4. 9.14.4 |   And that same bitter corsiue, which did eat
4. 9.14.5 |   Her tender heart, and made refraine from meat,
4. 9.14.6 |   He with good thewes and speaches well applyde,
4. 9.14.7 |   Did mollifie, and calme her raging heat.
4. 9.14.8 |   For though she were most faire, and goodly dyde,
4. 9.14.9 | Yet she it all did mar with cruelty and pride.

4. 9.15.1 | And for to shut vp all in friendly loue,
4. 9.15.2 |   Sith loue was first the ground of all her griefe,
4. 9.15.3 |   That trusty Squire he wisely well did moue
4. 9.15.4 |   Not to despise that dame, which lou'd him liefe,
4. 9.15.5 |   Till he had made of her some better priefe,
4. 9.15.6 |   But to accept her to his wedded wife.
4. 9.15.7 |   Thereto he offred for to make him chiefe
4. 9.15.8 |   Of all her land and lordship during life:
4. 9.15.9 | He yeelded, and her tooke; so stinted all their strife.

4. 9.16.1 | From that day forth in peace and ioyous blis,
4. 9.16.2 |   They liu'd together long without debate,
4. 9.16.3 |   Ne priuate iarre, ne spite of enemis
4. 9.16.4 |   Could shake the safe assuraunce of their state.
4. 9.16.5 |   And she whom Nature did so faire create,
4. 9.16.6 |   That she mote match the fairest of her daies,
4. 9.16.7 |   Yet with lewd loues and lust intemperate
4. 9.16.8 |   Had it defaste; thenceforth reformd her waies,
4. 9.16.9 | That all men much admyrde her change, and spake her praise.

4. 9.17.1 | Thus when the Prince had perfectly compylde
4. 9.17.2 |   These paires of friends in peace and setled rest,
4. 9.17.3 |   Him selfe, whose minde did trauell as with chylde,
4. 9.17.4 |   Of his old loue, conceau'd in secret brest,
4. 9.17.5 |   Resolued to pursue his former quest;
4. 9.17.6 |   And taking leaue of all, with him did beare
4. 9.17.7 |   Faire \Amoret\, whom Fortune by bequest
4. 9.17.8 |   Had left in his protection whileare,
4. 9.17.9 | Exchanged out of one into an other feare.

4. 9.18.1 | Feare of her safety did her not constraine,
4. 9.18.2 |   For well she wist now in a mighty hond,
4. 9.18.3 |   Her person late in perill, did remaine,
4. 9.18.4 |   Who able was all daungers to withstond.
4. 9.18.5 |   But now in feare of shame she more did stond,
4. 9.18.6 |   Seeing her selfe all soly succourlesse,
4. 9.18.7 |   Left in the victors powre, like vassall bond;
4. 9.18.8 |   Whose will her weakenesse could no way represse,
4. 9.18.9 | In case his burning lust should breake into excesse.

4. 9.19.1 | But cause of feare sure had she none at all
4. 9.19.2 |   Of him, who goodly learned had of yore
4. 9.19.3 |   The course of loose affection to forstall,
4. 9.19.4 |   And lawlesse lust to rule with reasons lore;
4. 9.19.5 |   That all the while he by his side her bore,
4. 9.19.6 |   She was as safe as in a Sanctuary;
4. 9.19.7 |   Thus many miles they two together wore,
4. 9.19.8 |   To seeke their loues dispersed diuersly,
4. 9.19.9 | Yet neither shewed to other their hearts priuity.

4. 9.20.1 | At length they came, whereas a troupe of Knights
4. 9.20.2 |   They saw together skirmishing, as seemed:
4. 9.20.3 |   Sixe they were all, all full of fell despight,
4. 9.20.4 |   But foure of them the battell best beseemed,
4. 9.20.5 |   That which of them was best, mote not be deemed.
4. 9.20.6 |   Those foure were they, from whom false \Florimell\
4. 9.20.7 |   By \Braggadochio\ lately was redeemed.
4. 9.20.8 |   To weet, sterne \Druon\, and lewd \Claribell\,
4. 9.20.9 | Loue-lauish \Blandamour\, and lustfull \Paridell\.

4. 9.21.1 | \Druons\ delight was all in single life,
4. 9.21.2 |   And vnto Ladies loue would lend no leasure:
4. 9.21.3 |   The more was \Claribell\ enraged rife
4. 9.21.4 |   With feruent flames, and loued out of measure:
4. 9.21.5 |   So eke lou'd \Blandamour\, but yet at pleasure
4. 9.21.6 |   Would change his liking, and new Lemans proue:
4. 9.21.7 |   But \Paridell\ of loue did make no threasure,
4. 9.21.8 |   But lusted after all, that him did moue.
4. 9.21.9 | So diuersly these foure disposed were to loue.

4. 9.22.1 | But those two other which beside them stoode,
4. 9.22.2 |   Were \Britomart\, and gentle \Scudamour\,
4. 9.22.3 |   Who all the while beheld their wrathfull moode,
4. 9.22.4 |   And wondred at their impacable stoure,
4. 9.22.5 |   Whose like they neuer saw till that same houre:
4. 9.22.6 |   So dreadfull strokes each did at other driue,
4. 9.22.7 |   And laid on load with all their might and powre,
4. 9.22.8 |   As if that euery dint the ghost would riue
4. 9.22.9 | Out of their wretched corses, and their liues depriue.

4. 9.23.1 | As when \Dan A+Eolus\ in great displeasure,
4. 9.23.2 |   For losse of his deare loue by \Neptune\ hent,
4. 9.23.3 |   Sends forth the winds out of his hidden threasure,
4. 9.23.4 |   Vpon the sea to wreake his fell intent;
4. 9.23.5 |   They breaking forth with rude vnruliment,
4. 9.23.6 |   From all foure parts of heauen doe rage full sore,
4. 9.23.7 |   And tosse the deepes, and teare the firmament,
4. 9.23.8 |   And all the world confound with wide vprore,
4. 9.23.9 | As if in stead thereof they \Chaos\ would restore.

4. 9.24.1 | Cause of their discord, and so fell debate,
4. 9.24.2 |   Was for the loue of that same snowy maid,
4. 9.24.3 |   Whome they had lost in Turneyment of late,
4. 9.24.4 |   And seeking long, to weet which way she straid,
4. 9.24.5 |   Met here together, where through lewd vpbraide
4. 9.24.6 |   Of \Ate\ and \Duessa\ they fell out,
4. 9.24.7 |   And each one taking part in others aide,
4. 9.24.8 |   This cruell conflict raised thereabout,
4. 9.24.9 | Whose dangerous successe depended yet in dout.

4. 9.25.1 | For sometimes \Paridell\ and \Blandamour\
4. 9.25.2 |   The better had, and bet the others backe,
4. 9.25.3 |   Eftsoones the others did the field recoure,
4. 9.25.4 |   And on their foes did worke full cruell wracke:
4. 9.25.5 |   Yet neither would their fiendlike fury slacke,
4. 9.25.6 |   But euermore their malice did augment;
4. 9.25.7 |   Till that vneath they forced were for lacke
4. 9.25.8 |   Of breath, their raging rigour to relent,
4. 9.25.9 | And rest themselues for to recouer spirits spent.

4. 9.26.1 | There gan they change their sides, and new parts take;
4. 9.26.2 |   For \Paridell\ did take to \Druons\ side,
4. 9.26.3 |   For old despight, which now forth newly brake
4. 9.26.4 |   Gainst \Blandamour\, whom alwaies he enuide:
4. 9.26.5 |   And \Blandamour\ to \Claribell\ relide.
4. 9.26.6 |   So all afresh gan former fight renew.
4. 9.26.7 |   As when two Barkes, this caried with the tide,
4. 9.26.8 |   That with the wind, contrary courses sew,
4. 9.26.9 | If wind and tide doe change, their courses change anew.

4. 9.27.1 | Thenceforth they much more furiously gan fare,
4. 9.27.2 |   As if but then the battell had begonne,
4. 9.27.3 |   Ne helmets bright, ne hawberks strong did spare,
4. 9.27.4 |   That through the clifts the vermeil bloud out sponne,
4. 9.27.5 |   And all adowne their riuen sides did ronne.
4. 9.27.6 |   Such mortall malice, wonder was to see
4. 9.27.7 |   In friends profest, and so great outrage donne:
4. 9.27.8 |   But sooth is said, and tride in each degree,
4. 9.27.9 | Faint friends when they fall out, most cruell fomen bee.

4. 9.28.1 | Thus they long while continued in fight,
4. 9.28.2 |   Till \Scudamour\, and that same Briton maide,
4. 9.28.3 |   By fortune in that place did chance to light:
4. 9.28.4 |   Whom soone as they with wrathfull eie bewraide,
4. 9.28.5 |   They gan remember of the fowle vpbraide,
4. 9.28.6 |   The which that Britonesse had to them donne,
4. 9.28.7 |   In that late Turney for the snowy maide;
4. 9.28.8 |   Where she had them both shamefully fordonne,
4. 9.28.9 | And eke the famous prize of beauty from them wonne.

4. 9.29.1 | Eftsoones all burning with a fresh desire
4. 9.29.2 |   Of fell reuenge, in their malicious mood
4. 9.29.3 |   They from them selues gan turne their furious ire,
4. 9.29.4 |   And cruell blades yet steeming with whot bloud,
4. 9.29.5 |   Against those two let driue, as they were wood:
4. 9.29.6 |   Who wondring much at that so sodaine fit,
4. 9.29.7 |   Yet nought dismayd, them stoutly well withstood;
4. 9.29.8 |   Ne yeelded foote, ne once abacke did flit,
4. 9.29.9 | But being doubly smitten likewise doubly smit.

4. 9.30.1 | The warlike Dame was on her part assaid,
4. 9.30.2 |   Of \Claribell\ and \Blandamour\ attone;
4. 9.30.3 |   And \Paridell\ and \Druon\ fiercely laid
4. 9.30.4 |   At \Scudamour\, both his professed fone.
4. 9.30.5 |   Foure charged two, and two surcharged one;
4. 9.30.6 |   Yet did those two them selues so brauely beare,
4. 9.30.7 |   That the other litle gained by the lone,
4. 9.30.8 |   But with their owne repayed duely weare,
4. 9.30.9 | And vsury withall: such gaine was gotten deare.

4. 9.31.1 | Full oftentimes did \Britomart\ assay
4. 9.31.2 |   To speake to them, and some emparlance moue;
4. 9.31.3 |   But they for nought their cruell hands would stay,
4. 9.31.4 |   Ne lend an eare to ought, that might behoue,
4. 9.31.5 |   As when an eager mastiffe once doth proue
4. 9.31.6 |   The tast of bloud of some engored beast,
4. 9.31.7 |   No words may rate, nor rigour him remoue
4. 9.31.8 |   From greedy hold of that his blouddy feast:
4. 9.31.9 | So litle did they hearken to her sweet beheast.

4. 9.32.1 | Whom when the Briton Prince a farre beheld
4. 9.32.2 |   With ods of so vnequall match opprest,
4. 9.32.3 |   His mighty heart with indignation sweld,
4. 9.32.4 |   And inward grudge fild his heroicke brest:
4. 9.32.5 |   Eftsoones him selfe he to their aide addrest,
4. 9.32.6 |   And thrusting fierce into the thickest preace,
4. 9.32.7 |   Diuided them, how euer loth to rest,
4. 9.32.8 |   And would them faine from battell to surceasse,
4. 9.32.9 | With gentle words perswading them to friendly peace.

4. 9.33.1 | But they so farre from peace or patience were,
4. 9.33.2 |   That all at once at him gan fiercely flie,
4. 9.33.3 |   And lay on load, as they him downe would beare;
4. 9.33.4 |   Like to a storme, which houers vnder skie
4. 9.33.5 |   Long here and there, and round about doth stie,
4. 9.33.6 |   At length breakes downe in raine, and haile, and sleet,
4. 9.33.7 |   First from one coast, till nought thereof be drie;
4. 9.33.8 |   And then another, till that likewise fleet;
4. 9.33.9 | And so from side to side till all the world it weet.

4. 9.34.1 | But now their forces greatly were decayd,
4. 9.34.2 |   The Prince yet being fresh vntoucht afore;
4. 9.34.3 |   Who them with speaches milde gan first disswade
4. 9.34.4 |   From such foule outrage, and them long forbore:
4. 9.34.5 |   Till seeing them through suffrance hartned more,
4. 9.34.6 |   Him selfe he bent their furies to abate,
4. 9.34.7 |   And layd at them so sharpely and so sore,
4. 9.34.8 |   That shortly them compelled to retrate,
4. 9.34.9 | And being brought in daunger, to relent too late.

4. 9.35.1 | But now his courage being throughly fired,
4. 9.35.2 |   He ment to make them know their follies prise,
4. 9.35.3 |   Had not those two him instantly desired
4. 9.35.4 |   T'=asswage his wrath, and pardon their mesprise.
4. 9.35.5 |   At whose request he gan him selfe aduise
4. 9.35.6 |   To stay his hand, and of a truce to treat
4. 9.35.7 |   In milder tearmes, as list them to deuise:
4. 9.35.8 |   Mongst which the cause of their so cruell heat
4. 9.35.9 | He did them aske, who all that passed gan repeat.

4. 9.36.1 | And told at large how that same errant Knight,
4. 9.36.2 |   To weet faire \Britomart\, them late had foyled
4. 9.36.3 |   In open turney, and by wrongfull fight
4. 9.36.4 |   Both of their publicke praise had them despoyled,
4. 9.36.5 |   And also of their priuate loues beguyled,
4. 9.36.6 |   Of two full hard to read the harder theft.
4. 9.36.7 |   But she that wrongfull challenge soone assoyled,
4. 9.36.8 |   And shew'd that she had not that Lady reft,
4. 9.36.9 | (As they supposd) but her had to her liking left.

4. 9.37.1 | To whom the Prince thus goodly well replied;
4. 9.37.2 |   Certes sir Knight, ye seemen much to blame,
4. 9.37.3 |   To rip vp wrong, that battell once hath tried;
4. 9.37.4 |   Wherein the honor both of Armes ye shame,
4. 9.37.5 |   And eke the loue of Ladies foule defame;
4. 9.37.6 |   To whom the world this franchise euer yeelded,
4. 9.37.7 |   That of their loues choise they might freedom clame,
4. 9.37.8 |   And in that right should by all knights be shielded:
4. 9.37.9 | Gainst which me seemes this war ye wrongfully haue wielded.

4. 9.38.1 | And yet (quoth she) a greater wrong remaines:
4. 9.38.2 |   For I thereby my former loue haue lost,
4. 9.38.3 |   Whom seeking euer since with endlesse paines,
4. 9.38.4 |   Hath me much sorrow and much trauell cost;
4. 9.38.5 |   Aye me to see that gentle maide so tost.
4. 9.38.6 |   But \Scudamour\ then sighing deepe, thus saide,
4. 9.38.7 |   Certes her losse ought me to sorrow most,
4. 9.38.8 |   Whose right she is, where euer she be straide,
4. 9.38.9 | Through many perils wonne, and many fortunes waide.

4. 9.39.1 | For from the first that I her loue profest,
4. 9.39.2 |   Vnto this houre, this present lucklesse howre,
4. 9.39.3 |   I neuer ioyed happinesse nor rest,
4. 9.39.4 |   But thus turmoild from one to other stowre,
4. 9.39.5 |   I wast my life, and doe my daies deuowre
4. 9.39.6 |   In wretched anguishe and incessant woe,
4. 9.39.7 |   Passing the measure of my feeble powre,
4. 9.39.8 |   That liuing thus, a wretch and louing so,
4. 9.39.9 | I neither can my loue, ne yet my life forgo.

4. 9.40.1 | Then good sir \Claribell\ him thus bespake,
4. 9.40.2 |   Now were it not sir \Scudamour\ to you
4. 9.40.3 |   Dislikefull paine, so sad a taske to take,
4. 9.40.4 |   Mote we entreat you, sith this gentle crew
4. 9.40.5 |   Is now so well accorded all anew;
4. 9.40.6 |   That as we ride together on our way,
4. 9.40.7 |   Ye will recount to vs in order dew
4. 9.40.8 |   All that aduenture, which ye did assay
4. 9.40.9 | For that faire Ladies loue: past perils well apay.

4. 9.41.1 | So gan the rest him likewise to require,
4. 9.41.2 |   But \Britomart\ did him importune hard,
4. 9.41.3 |   To take on him that paine: whose great desire
4. 9.41.4 |   He glad to satisfie, him selfe prepar'd
4. 9.41.5 |   To tell through what misfortune he had far'd,
4. 9.41.6 |   In that atchieuement, as to him befell.
4. 9.41.7 |   And all those daungers vnto them declar'd,
4. 9.41.8 |   Which sith they cannot in this Canto well
4. 9.41.9 | Comprised be, I will them in another tell.


4.10. A.1 | \Scudamour doth his conquest tell,\
4.10. A.2 |   \Of vertuous Amoret:\
4.10. A.3 | \Great Venus Temple is describ'd,\
4.10. A.4 |   \And louers life forth set.\

4.10. 1.1 | True he it said, what euer man it sayd,
4.10. 1.2 |   That loue with gall and hony doth abound,
4.10. 1.3 |   But if the one be with the other wayd,
4.10. 1.4 |   For euery dram of hony therein found,
4.10. 1.5 |   A pound of gall doth ouer it redound.
4.10. 1.6 |   That I too true by triall haue approued:
4.10. 1.7 |   For since the day that first with deadly wound
4.10. 1.8 |   My heart was launcht, and learned to haue loued,
4.10. 1.9 | I neuer ioyed howre, but still with care was moued.

4.10. 2.1 | And yet such grace is giuen them from aboue,
4.10. 2.2 |   That all the cares and euill which they meet,
4.10. 2.3 |   May nought at all their setled mindes remoue,
4.10. 2.4 |   But seeme gainst common sence to them most sweet;
4.10. 2.5 |   As bosting in their martyrdome vnmeet.
4.10. 2.6 |   So all that euer yet I haue endured,
4.10. 2.7 |   I count as naught, and tread downe vnder feet,
4.10. 2.8 |   Since of my loue at length I rest assured,
4.10. 2.9 | That to disloyalty she will not be allured.

4.10. 3.1 | Long were to tell the trauell and long toile,
4.10. 3.2 |   Through which this shield of loue I late haue wonne,
4.10. 3.3 |   And purchased this peerelesse beauties spoile,
4.10. 3.4 |   That harder may be ended, then begonne.
4.10. 3.5 |   But since ye so desire, your will be donne.
4.10. 3.6 |   Then hearke ye gentle knights and Ladies free,
4.10. 3.7 |   My hard mishaps, that ye may learne to shonne;
4.10. 3.8 |   For though sweet loue to conquer glorious bee,
4.10. 3.9 | Yet is the paine thereof much greater then the fee.

4.10. 4.1 | What time the fame of this renowmed prise
4.10. 4.2 |   Flew first abroad, and all mens eares possest,
4.10. 4.3 |   I hauing armes then taken, gan auise
4.10. 4.4 |   To winne me honour by some noble gest,
4.10. 4.5 |   And purchase me some place amongst the best.
4.10. 4.6 |   I boldly thought (so young mens thoughts are bold)
4.10. 4.7 |   That this same braue emprize for me did rest,
4.10. 4.8 |   And that both shield and she whom I behold,
4.10. 4.9 | Might be my lucky lot; sith all by lot we hold.

4.10. 5.1 | So on that hard aduenture forth I went,
4.10. 5.2 |   And to the place of perill shortly came.
4.10. 5.3 |   That was a temple faire and auncient,
4.10. 5.4 |   Which of great mother \Venus\ bare the name,
4.10. 5.5 |   And farre renowmed through exceeding fame;
4.10. 5.6 |   Much more then that, which was in \Paphos\ built,
4.10. 5.7 |   Or that in \Cyprus\, both long since this same,
4.10. 5.8 |   Though all the pillours of the one were guilt,
4.10. 5.9 | And all the others pauement were with yuory spilt.

4.10. 6.1 | And it was seated in an Island strong,
4.10. 6.2 |   Abounding all with delices most rare,
4.10. 6.3 |   And wall'd by nature gainst inuaders wrong,
4.10. 6.4 |   That none mote haue accesse, nor inward fare,
4.10. 6.5 |   But by one way, that passage did prepare.
4.10. 6.6 |   It was a bridge ybuilt in goodly wize,
4.10. 6.7 |   With curious Corbes and pendants grauen faire,
4.10. 6.8 |   And arched all with porches, did arize
4.10. 6.9 | On stately pillours, fram'd after the Doricke guize.

4.10. 7.1 | And for defence thereof, on th'=other end
4.10. 7.2 |   There reared was a castle faire and strong,
4.10. 7.3 |   That warded all which in or out did wend,
4.10. 7.4 |   And flancked both the bridges sides along,
4.10. 7.5 |   Gainst all that would it faine to force or wrong.
4.10. 7.6 |   And therein wonned twenty valiant Knights;
4.10. 7.7 |   All twenty tride in warres experience long;
4.10. 7.8 |   Whose office was, against all manner wights
4.10. 7.9 | By all meanes to maintaine that castels ancient rights.

4.10. 8.1 | Before that Castle was an open plaine,
4.10. 8.2 |   And in the midst thereof a piller placed;
4.10. 8.3 |   On which this shield, of many sought in vaine,
4.10. 8.4 |   The shield of Loue, whose guerdon me hath graced,
4.10. 8.5 |   Was hangd on high with golden ribbands laced;
4.10. 8.6 |   And in the marble stone was written this,
4.10. 8.7 |   With golden letters goodly well enchaced,
4.10. 8.8 |   \Blessed the man that well can vse his blis:\
4.10. 8.9 | \Whose euer be the shield, faire Amoret be his.\

4.10. 9.1 | Which when I red, my heart did inly earne,
4.10. 9.2 |   And pant with hope of that aduentures hap:
4.10. 9.3 |   Ne stayed further newes thereof to learne,
4.10. 9.4 |   But with my speare vpon the shield did rap,
4.10. 9.5 |   That all the castle ringed with the clap.
4.10. 9.6 |   Streight forth issewd a Knight all arm'd to proofe,
4.10. 9.7 |   And brauely mounted to his most mishap:
4.10. 9.8 |   Who staying nought to question from aloofe,
4.10. 9.9 | Ran fierce at me, that fire glaunst from his horses hoofe.

4.10.10.1 | Whom boldly I encountred (as I could)
4.10.10.2 |   And by good fortune shortly him vnseated.
4.10.10.3 |   Eftsoones out sprung two more of equall mould;
4.10.10.4 |   But I them both with equall hap defeated:
4.10.10.5 |   So all the twenty I likewise entreated,
4.10.10.6 |   And left them groning there vpon the plaine.
4.10.10.7 |   Then preacing to the pillour I repeated
4.10.10.8 |   The read thereof for guerdon of my paine,
4.10.10.9 | And taking downe the shield, with me did it retaine.

4.10.11.1 | So forth without impediment I past,
4.10.11.2 |   Till to the Bridges vtter gate I came:
4.10.11.3 |   The which I found sure lockt and chained fast.
4.10.11.4 |   I knockt, but no man aunswred me by name;
4.10.11.5 |   I cald, but no man answerd to my clame.
4.10.11.6 |   Yet I perseuer'd still to knocke and call,
4.10.11.7 |   Till at the last I spide within the same,
4.10.11.8 |   Where one stood peeping through a creuis small,
4.10.11.9 | To whom I cald aloud, halfe angry therewithall.

4.10.12.1 | That was to weet the Porter of the place,
4.10.12.2 |   Vnto whose trust the charge thereof was lent:
4.10.12.3 |   His name was \Doubt\, that had a double face,
4.10.12.4 |   Th'=one forward looking, th'=other backeward bent,
4.10.12.5 |   Therein resembling \Ianus\ auncient,
4.10.12.6 |   Which hath in charge the ingate of the yeare:
4.10.12.7 |   And euermore his eyes about him went,
4.10.12.8 |   As if some proued perill he did feare,
4.10.12.9 | Or did misdoubt some ill, whose cause did not appeare.

4.10.13.1 | On th'=one side he, on th'=other sate \Delay\,
4.10.13.2 |   Behinde the gate, that none her might espy;
4.10.13.3 |   Whose manner was all passengers to stay,
4.10.13.4 |   And entertaine with her occasions sly,
4.10.13.5 |   Through which some lost great hope vnheedily,
4.10.13.6 |   Which neuer they recouer might againe;
4.10.13.7 |   And others quite excluded forth, did ly
4.10.13.8 |   Long languishing there in vnpittied paine,
4.10.13.9 | And seeking often entraunce, afterwards in vaine.

4.10.14.1 | Me when as he had priuily espide,
4.10.14.2 |   Bearing the shield which I had conquerd late,
4.10.14.3 |   He kend it streight, and to me opened wide.
4.10.14.4 |   So in I past, and streight he closd the gate.
4.10.14.5 |   But being in, \Delay\ in close awaite
4.10.14.6 |   Caught hold on me, and thought my steps to stay,
4.10.14.7 |   Feigning full many a fond excuse to prate,
4.10.14.8 |   And time to steale, the threasure of mans day,
4.10.14.9 | Whose smallest minute lost, no riches render may.

4.10.15.1 | But by no meanes my way I would forslow,
4.10.15.2 |   For ought that euer she could doe or say,
4.10.15.3 |   But from my lofty steede dismounting low,
4.10.15.4 |   Past forth on foote, beholding all the way
4.10.15.5 |   The goodly workes, and stones of rich assay,
4.10.15.6 |   Cast into sundry shapes by wondrous skill,
4.10.15.7 |   That like on earth no where I recken may:
4.10.15.8 |   And vnderneath, the riuer rolling still
4.10.15.9 | With murmure soft, that seem'd to serue the workmans will.

4.10.16.1 | Thence forth I passed to the second gate,
4.10.16.2 |   The \Gate of good desert\, whose goodly pride
4.10.16.3 |   And costly frame, were long here to relate.
4.10.16.4 |   The same to all stoode alwaies open wide:
4.10.16.5 |   But in the Porch did euermore abide
4.10.16.6 |   An hideous Giant, dreadfull to behold,
4.10.16.7 |   That stopt the entraunce with his spacious stride,
4.10.16.8 |   And with the terrour of his countenance bold
4.10.16.9 | Full many did affray, that else faine enter would.

4.10.17.1 | His name was \Daunger\ dreaded ouer all,
4.10.17.2 |   Who day and night did watch and duely ward,
4.10.17.3 |   From fearefull cowards, entrance to forstall,
4.10.17.4 |   And faint-heart-fooles, whom shew of perill hard
4.10.17.5 |   Could terrifie from Fortunes faire adward:
4.10.17.6 |   For oftentimes faint hearts at first espiall
4.10.17.7 |   Of his grim face, were from approaching scard;
4.10.17.8 |   Vnworthy they of grace, whom one deniall
4.10.17.9 | Excludes from fairest hope, withouten further triall.

4.10.18.1 | Yet many doughty warriours, often tride
4.10.18.2 |   In greater perils to be stout and bold,
4.10.18.3 |   Durst not the sternnesse of his looke abide,
4.10.18.4 |   But soone as they his countenance did behold,
4.10.18.5 |   Began to faint, and feele their corage cold.
4.10.18.6 |   Againe some other, that in hard assaies
4.10.18.7 |   Were cowards knowne, and litle count did hold,
4.10.18.8 |   Either through gifts, or guile, or such like waies,
4.10.18.9 | Crept in by stouping low, or stealing of the kaies.

4.10.19.1 | But I though meanest man of many moe,
4.10.19.2 |   Yet much disdaining vnto him to lout,
4.10.19.3 |   Or creepe betweene his legs, so in to goe,
4.10.19.4 |   Resolu'd him to assault with manhood stout,
4.10.19.5 |   And either beat him in, or driue him out.
4.10.19.6 |   Eftsoones aduauncing that enchaunted shield,
4.10.19.7 |   With all my might I gan to lay about:
4.10.19.8 |   Which when he saw, the glaiue which he did wield
4.10.19.9 | He gan forthwith t'=auale, and way vnto me yield.

4.10.20.1 | So as I entred, I did backeward looke,
4.10.20.2 |   For feare of harme, that might lie hidden there;
4.10.20.3 |   And loe his hindparts, whereof heed I tooke,
4.10.20.4 |   Much more deformed fearefull vgly were,
4.10.20.5 |   Then all his former parts did earst appere.
4.10.20.6 |   For hatred, murther, treason, and despight,
4.10.20.7 |   With many moe lay in ambushment there,
4.10.20.8 |   Awayting to entrap the warelesse wight,
4.10.20.9 | Which did not them preuent with vigilant foresight.

4.10.21.1 | Thus hauing past all perill, I was come
4.10.21.2 |   Within the compasse of that Islands space;
4.10.21.3 |   The which did seeme vnto my simple doome,
4.10.21.4 |   The onely pleasant and delightfull place,
4.10.21.5 |   That euer troden was of footings trace.
4.10.21.6 |   For all that nature by her mother wit
4.10.21.7 |   Could frame in earth, and forme of substance base,
4.10.21.8 |   Was there, and all that nature did omit,
4.10.21.9 | Art playing second natures part, supplyed it.

4.10.22.1 | No tree, that is of count, in greenewood growes,
4.10.22.2 |   From lowest Iuniper to Ceder tall,
4.10.22.3 |   No flowre in field, that daintie odour throwes,
4.10.22.4 |   And deckes his branch with blossomes ouer all,
4.10.22.5 |   But there was planted, or grew naturall:
4.10.22.6 |   Nor sense of man so coy and curious nice,
4.10.22.7 |   But there mote find to please it selfe withall;
4.10.22.8 |   Nor hart could wish for any queint deuice,
4.10.22.9 | But there it present was, and did fraile sense entice.

4.10.23.1 | In such luxurious plentie of all pleasure,
4.10.23.2 |   It seem'd a second paradise to ghesse,
4.10.23.3 |   So lauishly enricht with natures threasure,
4.10.23.4 |   That if the happie soules, which doe possesse
4.10.23.5 |   Th'=Elysian fields, and liue in lasting blesse,
4.10.23.6 |   Should happen this with liuing eye to see,
4.10.23.7 |   They soone would loath their lesser happinesse,
4.10.23.8 |   And wish to life return'd againe to bee,
4.10.23.9 | That in this ioyous place they mote haue ioyance free.

4.10.24.1 | Fresh shadowes, fit to shroud from sunny ray;
4.10.24.2 |   Faire lawnds, to take the sunne in season dew;
4.10.24.3 |   Sweet springs, in which a thousand Nymphs did play;
4.10.24.4 |   Soft rombling brookes, that gentle slomber drew;
4.10.24.5 |   High reared mounts, the lands about to vew;
4.10.24.6 |   Low looking dales, disloignd from common gaze;
4.10.24.7 |   Delightfull bowres, to solace louers trew;
4.10.24.8 |   False Labyrinthes, fond runners eyes to daze;
4.10.24.9 | All which by nature made did nature selfe amaze.

4.10.25.1 | And all without were walkes and alleyes dight
4.10.25.2 |   With diuers trees, enrang'd in euen rankes;
4.10.25.3 |   And here and there were pleasant arbors pight,
4.10.25.4 |   And shadie seates, and sundry flowring bankes,
4.10.25.5 |   To sit and rest the walkers wearie shankes,
4.10.25.6 |   And therein thousand payres of louers walkt,
4.10.25.7 |   Praysing their god, and yeelding him great thankes,
4.10.25.8 |   Ne euer ought but of their true loues talkt,
4.10.25.9 | Ne euer for rebuke or blame of any balkt.

4.10.26.1 | All these together by themselves did sport
4.10.26.2 |   Their spotlesse pleasures, and sweet loues content.
4.10.26.3 |   But farre away from these, another sort
4.10.26.4 |   Of louers lincked in true harts consent;
4.10.26.5 |   Which loued not as these, for like intent,
4.10.26.6 |   But on chast vertue grounded their desire,
4.10.26.7 |   Farre from all fraud, or fayned blandishment;
4.10.26.8 |   Which in their spirits kindling zealous fire,
4.10.26.9 | Braue thoughts and noble deedes did euermore aspire.

4.10.27.1 | Such were great \Hercules\, and \Hylas\ deare;
4.10.27.2 |   Trew \Ionathan\, and \Dauid\ trustie tryde;
4.10.27.3 |   Stout \Theseus\, and \Pirithous\ his feare;
4.10.27.4 |   \Pylades\ and \Orestes\ by his syde;
4.10.27.5 |   Myld \Titus\ and \Gesippus\ without pryde;
4.10.27.6 |   \Damon\ and \Pythias\ whom death could not seuer:
4.10.27.7 |   All these and all that euer had bene tyde
4.10.27.8 |   In bands of friendship, there did liue for euer,
4.10.27.9 | Whose liues although decay'd, yet loues decayed neuer.

4.10.28.1 | Which when as I, that neuer tasted blis,
4.10.28.2 |   Nor happie howre, beheld with gazefull eye,
4.10.28.3 |   I thought there was none other heauen then this;
4.10.28.4 |   And gan their endlesse happinesse enuye,
4.10.28.5 |   That being free from feare and gealosye,
4.10.28.6 |   Might frankely there their loues desire possesse;
4.10.28.7 |   Whilest I through paines and perlous ieopardie,
4.10.28.8 |   Was forst to seeke my lifes deare patronesse:
4.10.28.9 | Much dearer be the things, which come through hard distresse.

4.10.29.1 | Yet all those sights, and all that else I saw,
4.10.29.2 |   Might not my steps withhold, but that forthright
4.10.29.3 |   Vnto that purposd place I did me draw,
4.10.29.4 |   Where as my loue was lodged day and night:
4.10.29.5 |   The temple of great \Venus\, that is hight
4.10.29.6 |   The Queene of beautie, and of loue the mother,
4.10.29.7 |   There worshipped of euery liuing wight;
4.10.29.8 |   Whose goodly workmanship farre past all other
4.10.29.9 | That euer were on earth, all were they set together.

4.10.30.1 | Not that same famous Temple of \Diane\,
4.10.30.2 |   Whose hight all \Ephesus\ did ouersee,
4.10.30.3 |   And which all \Asia\ sought with vowes prophane,
4.10.30.4 |   One of the worlds seuen wonders sayd to bee,
4.10.30.5 |   Might match with this by many a degree:
4.10.30.6 |   Nor that, which that wise King of \Iurie\ framed,
4.10.30.7 |   With endlesse cost, to be th'=Almighties see;
4.10.30.8 |   Nor all that else through all the world is named
4.10.30.9 | To all the heathen Gods, might like to this be clamed.

4.10.31.1 | I much admyring that so goodly frame,
4.10.31.2 |   Vnto the porch approcht, which open stood;
4.10.31.3 |   But therein sate an amiable Dame,
4.10.31.4 |   That seem'd to be of very sober mood,
4.10.31.5 |   And in her semblant shewed great womanhood:
4.10.31.6 |   Strange was her tyre; for on her head a crowne
4.10.31.7 |   She wore much like vnto a Danisk hood,
4.10.31.8 |   Poudred with pearle and stone, and all her gowne
4.10.31.9 | Enwouen was with gold, that raught full low a downe.

4.10.32.1 | On either side of her, two young men stood,
4.10.32.2 |   Both strongly arm'd, as fearing one another;
4.10.32.3 |   Yet were they brethren both of halfe the blood,
4.10.32.4 |   Begotten by two fathers of one mother,
4.10.32.5 |   Though of contrarie natures each to other:
4.10.32.6 |   The one of them hight \Loue\, the other \Hate\,
4.10.32.7 |   \Hate\ was the elder, \Loue\ the younger brother;
4.10.32.8 |   Yet was the younger stronger in his state
4.10.32.9 | Then th'=elder, and him maystred still in all debate.

4.10.33.1 | Nathlesse that Dame so well them tempred both,
4.10.33.2 |   That she them forced hand to ioyne in hand,
4.10.33.3 |   Albe that \Hatred\ was thereto full loth,
4.10.33.4 |   And turn'd his face away, as he did stand,
4.10.33.5 |   Vnwilling to behold that louely band.
4.10.33.6 |   Yet she was of such grace and vertuous might,
4.10.33.7 |   That her commaundment he could not withstand,
4.10.33.8 |   But bit his lip for felonous despight,
4.10.33.9 | And gnasht his yron tuskes at that displeasing sight.

4.10.34.1 | \Concord\ she cleeped was in common reed,
4.10.34.2 |   Mother of blessed \Peace\, and \Friendship\ trew;
4.10.34.3 |   They both her twins, both borne of heauenly seed,
4.10.34.4 |   And she her selfe likewise diuinely grew;
4.10.34.5 |   The which right well her workes diuine did shew:
4.10.34.6 |   For strength, and wealth, and happinesse she lends,
4.10.34.7 |   And strife, and warre, and anger does subdew:
4.10.34.8 |   Of litle much, of foes she maketh frends,
4.10.34.9 | And to afflicted minds sweet rest and quiet sends.

4.10.35.1 | By her the heauen is in his course contained,
4.10.35.2 |   And all the world in state vnmoued stands,
4.10.35.3 |   As their Almightie maker first ordained,
4.10.35.4 |   And bound them with inuiolable bands;
4.10.35.5 |   Else would the waters ouerflow the lands,
4.10.35.6 |   And fire deuoure the ayre, and hell them quight,
4.10.35.7 |   But that she holds them with her blessed hands.
4.10.35.8 |   She is the nourse of pleasure and delight,
4.10.35.9 | And vnto \Venus\ grace the gate doth open right.

4.10.36.1 | By her I entring halfe dismayed was,
4.10.36.2 |   But she in gentle wise me entertayned,
4.10.36.3 |   And twixt her selfe and \Loue\ did let me pas;
4.10.36.4 |   But \Hatred\ would my entrance haue restrayned,
4.10.36.5 |   And with his club me threatned to haue brayned,
4.10.36.6 |   Had not the Ladie with her powrefull speach
4.10.36.7 |   Him from his wicked will vneath refrayned;
4.10.36.8 |   And th'=other eke his malice did empeach,
4.10.36.9 | Till I was throughly past the perill of his reach.

4.10.37.1 | Into the inmost Temple thus I came,
4.10.37.2 |   Which fuming all with frankensence I found,
4.10.37.3 |   And odours rising from the altars flame.
4.10.37.4 |   Vpon an hundred marble pillors round
4.10.37.5 |   The roofe vp high was reared from the ground,
4.10.37.6 |   All deckt with crownes, and chaynes, and girlands gay,
4.10.37.7 |   And thousand pretious gifts worth many a pound,
4.10.37.8 |   The which sad louers for their vowes did pay;
4.10.37.9 | And all the ground was strow'd with flowres, as fresh as May.

4.10.38.1 | An hundred Altars round about were set,
4.10.38.2 |   All flaming with their sacrifices fire,
4.10.38.3 |   That with the steme thereof the Temple swet,
4.10.38.4 |   Which rould in clouds to heauen did aspire,
4.10.38.5 |   And in them bore true louers vowes entire:
4.10.38.6 |   And eke an hundred brasen caudrons bright,
4.10.38.7 |   To bath in ioy and amorous desire,
4.10.38.8 |   Euery of which was to a damzell hight;
4.10.38.9 | For all the Priests were damzels, in soft linnen dight.

4.10.39.1 | Right in the midst the Goddesse selfe did stand
4.10.39.2 |   Vpon an altar of some costly masse,
4.10.39.3 |   Whose substance was vneath to vnderstand:
4.10.39.4 |   For neither pretious stone, nor durefull brasse,
4.10.39.5 |   For shining gold, nor mouldring clay it was;
4.10.39.6 |   But much more rare and pretious to esteeme,
4.10.39.7 |   Pure in aspect, and like to christall glasse,
4.10.39.8 |   Yet glasse was not, if one did rightly deeme,
4.10.39.9 | But being faire and brickle, likest glasse did seeme.

4.10.40.1 | But it in shape and beautie did excell
4.10.40.2 |   All other Idoles, which the heathen adore,
4.10.40.3 |   Farre passing that, which by surpassing skill
4.10.40.4 |   \Phidias\ did make in \Paphos\ Isle of yore,
4.10.40.5 |   With which that wretched Greeke, that life forlore,
4.10.40.6 |   Did fall in loue: yet this much fairer shined,
4.10.40.7 |   But couered with a slender veile afore;
4.10.40.8 |   And both her feete and legs together twyned
4.10.40.9 | Were with a snake, whose head and tail were fast combyned.

4.10.41.1 | The cause why she was couered with a vele,
4.10.41.2 |   Was hard to know, for that her Priests the same
4.10.41.3 |   From peoples knowledge labour'd to concele.
4.10.41.4 |   But sooth it was not sure for womanish shame,
4.10.41.5 |   Nor any blemish, which the worke mote blame;
4.10.41.6 |   But for, they say, she hath both kinds in one,
4.10.41.7 |   Both male and female, both vnder one name:
4.10.41.8 |   She syre and mother is her selfe alone,
4.10.41.9 | Begets and eke conceiues, ne needeth other none.

4.10.42.1 | And all about her necke and shoulders flew
4.10.42.2 |   A flocke of litle loues, and sports, and ioyes,
4.10.42.3 |   With nimble wings of gold and purple hew;
4.10.42.4 |   Whose shapes seem'd not like to terrestriall boyes,
4.10.42.5 |   But like to Angels playing heauenly toyes;
4.10.42.6 |   The whilest their eldest brother was away,
4.10.42.7 |   \Cupid\ their eldest brother; he enioyes
4.10.42.8 |   The wide kingdome of loue with Lordly sway,
4.10.42.9 | And to his law compels all creatures to obay.

4.10.43.1 | And all about her altar scattered lay
4.10.43.2 |   Great sorts of louers piteously complayning,
4.10.43.3 |   Some of their losse, some of their loues delay,
4.10.43.4 |   Some of their pride, some paragons disdayning,
4.10.43.5 |   Some fearing fraud, some fraudulently fayning,
4.10.43.6 |   As euery one had cause of good or ill.
4.10.43.7 |   Amongst the rest some one through loues constrayning,
4.10.43.8 |   Tormented sore, could not containe it still,
4.10.43.9 | But thus brake forth, that all the temple it did fill.

4.10.44.1 | Great \Venus\, Queene of beautie and of grace,
4.10.44.2 |   The ioy of Gods and men, that vnder skie
4.10.44.3 |   Doest fayrest shine, and most adorne thy place,
4.10.44.4 |   That with thy smyling looke doest pacifie
4.10.44.5 |   The raging seas, and makst the stormes to flie;
4.10.44.6 |   Thee goddesse, thee the winds, the clouds doe feare,
4.10.44.7 |   And when thou spredst thy mantle forth on hie,
4.10.44.8 |   The waters play and pleasant lands appeare,
4.10.44.9 | And heauens laugh, and al the world shews ioyous cheare.

4.10.45.1 | Then doth the da+edale earth throw forth to thee
4.10.45.2 |   Out of her fruitfull lap aboundant flowres,
4.10.45.3 |   And then all liuing wights, soone as they see
4.10.45.4 |   The spring breake forth out of his lusty bowres,
4.10.45.5 |   They all doe learne to play the Paramours;
4.10.45.6 |   First doe the merry birds, thy prety pages
4.10.45.7 |   Priuily pricked with thy lustfull powres,
4.10.45.8 |   Chirpe loud to thee out of their leauy cages,
4.10.45.9 | And thee their mother call to coole their kindly rages.

4.10.46.1 | Then doe the saluage beasts begin to play
4.10.46.2 |   Their pleasant friskes, and loath their wonted food;
4.10.46.3 |   The Lyons rore, the Tygres loudly bray,
4.10.46.4 |   The raging Buls rebellow through the wood,
4.10.46.5 |   And breaking forth, dare tempt the deepest flood,
4.10.46.6 |   To come where thou doest draw them with desire:
4.10.46.7 |   So all things else, that nourish vitall blood,
4.10.46.8 |   Soone as with fury thou doest them inspire,
4.10.46.9 | In generation seeke to quench their inward fire.

4.10.47.1 | So all the world by thee at first was made,
4.10.47.2 |   And dayly yet thou doest the same repayre:
4.10.47.3 |   Ne ought on earth that merry is and glad,
4.10.47.4 |   Ne ought on earth that louely is and fayre,
4.10.47.5 |   But thou the same for pleasure didst prepayre.
4.10.47.6 |   Thou art the root of all that ioyous is,
4.10.47.7 |   Great God of men and women, queene of th'=ayre,
4.10.47.8 |   Mother of laughter, and welspring of blisse,
4.10.47.9 | O graunt that of my loue at last I may not misse.

4.10.48.1 | So did he say: but I with murmure soft,
4.10.48.2 |   That none might heare the sorrow of my hart,
4.10.48.3 |   Yet inly groning deepe and sighing oft,
4.10.48.4 |   Besought her to graunt ease vnto my smart,
4.10.48.5 |   And to my wound her gratious help impart.
4.10.48.6 |   Whilest thus I spake, behold with happy eye
4.10.48.7 |   I spyde, where at the Idoles feet apart
4.10.48.8 |   A beuie of fayre damzels close did lye,
4.10.48.9 | Wayting when as the Antheme should be sung on hye.

4.10.49.1 | The first of them did seeme of ryper yeares,
4.10.49.2 |   And grauer countenance then all the rest;
4.10.49.3 |   Yet all the rest were eke her equall peares,
4.10.49.4 |   Yet vnto her obayed all the best.
4.10.49.5 |   Her name was \Womanhood\, that she exprest
4.10.49.6 |   By her sad semblant and demeanure wyse:
4.10.49.7 |   For stedfast still her eyes did fixed rest,
4.10.49.8 |   Ne rov'd at randon after gazers guyse,
4.10.49.9 | Whose luring baytes oftimes doe heedlesse harts entyse.

4.10.50.1 | And next to her sate goodly \Shamefastnesse\,
4.10.50.2 |   Ne euer durst her eyes from ground vpreare,
4.10.50.3 |   Ne euer once did looke vp from her desse,
4.10.50.4 |   As if some blame of euill she did feare,
4.10.50.5 |   That in her cheekes made roses oft appeare:
4.10.50.6 |   And her against sweet \Cherefulnesse\ was placed,
4.10.50.7 |   Whose eyes like twinkling stars in euening cleare,
4.10.50.8 |   Were deckt with smyles, that all sad humors chaced,
4.10.50.9 | And darted forth delights, the which her goodly graced.

4.10.51.1 | And next to her sate sober \Modestie\,
4.10.51.2 |   Holding her hand vpon her gentle hart;
4.10.51.3 |   And her against sate comely \Curtesie\,
4.10.51.4 |   That vnto euery person knew her part;
4.10.51.5 |   And her before was seated ouerthwart
4.10.51.6 |   Soft \Silence\, and submisse \Obedience\,
4.10.51.7 |   Both linckt together neuer to dispart,
4.10.51.8 |   Both gifts of God not gotten but from thence,
4.10.51.9 | Both girlonds of his Saints against their foes offence.

4.10.52.1 | Thus sate they all a round in seemely rate:
4.10.52.2 |   And in the midst of them a goodly mayd,
4.10.52.3 |   Euen in the lap of \Womanhood\ there sate,
4.10.52.4 |   The which was all in lilly white arayd,
4.10.52.5 |   With siluer streames amongst the linnen stray'd;
4.10.52.6 |   Like to the Morne, when first her shyning face
4.10.52.7 |   Hath to the gloomy world it selfe bewray'd,
4.10.52.8 |   That same was fayrest \Amoret\ in place,
4.10.52.9 | Shyning with beauties light, and heauenly vertues grace.

4.10.53.1 | Whom soone as I beheld, my hart gan throb,
4.10.53.2 |   And wade in doubt, what best were to be donne:
4.10.53.3 |   For sacrilege me seem'd the Church to rob,
4.10.53.4 |   And folly seem'd to leaue the thing vndonne,
4.10.53.5 |   Which with so strong attempt I had begonne.
4.10.53.6 |   Tho shaking off all doubt and shamefast feare,
4.10.53.7 |   Which Ladies loue I heard had neuer wonne
4.10.53.8 |   Mongst men of worth, I to her stepped neare,
4.10.53.9 | And by the lilly hand her labour'd vp to reare.

4.10.54.1 | Thereat that formost matrone me did blame,
4.10.54.2 |   And sharpe rebuke, for being ouer bold;
4.10.54.3 |   Saying it was to Knight vnseemely shame,
4.10.54.4 |   Vpon a recluse Virgin to lay hold,
4.10.54.5 |   That vnto \Venus\ seruices was sold.
4.10.54.6 |   To whom I thus, Nay but it fitteth best,
4.10.54.7 |   For \Cupids\ man with \Venus\ mayd to hold,
4.10.54.8 |   For ill your goddesse seruices are drest
4.10.54.9 | By virgins, and her sacrifices let to rest.

4.10.55.1 | With that my shield I forth to her did show,
4.10.55.2 |   Which all that while I closely had conceld;
4.10.55.3 |   On which when \Cupid\ with his killing bow
4.10.55.4 |   And cruell shafts emblazond she beheld,
4.10.55.5 |   At sight thereof she was with terror queld,
4.10.55.6 |   And said no more: but I which all that while
4.10.55.7 |   The pledge of faith, her hand engaged held,
4.10.55.8 |   Like warie Hynd within the weedie soyle,
4.10.55.9 | For no intreatie would forgoe so glorious spoyle.

4.10.56.1 | And euermore vpon the Goddesse face
4.10.56.2 |   Mine eye was fixt, for feare of her offence,
4.10.56.3 |   Whom when I saw with amiable grace
4.10.56.4 |   To laugh at me, and fauour my pretence,
4.10.56.5 |   I was emboldned with more confidence,
4.10.56.6 |   And nought for nicenesse nor for enuy sparing,
4.10.56.7 |   In presence of them all forth led her thence,
4.10.56.8 |   All looking on, and like astonisht staring,
4.10.56.9 | Yet to lay hand on her, not one of all them daring.

4.10.57.1 | She often prayd, and often me besought,
4.10.57.2 |   Sometime with tender teares to let her goe,
4.10.57.3 |   Sometime with witching smyles: but yet for nought,
4.10.57.4 |   That euer she to me could say or doe,
4.10.57.5 |   Could she her wished freedome fro me wooe;
4.10.57.6 |   But forth I led her through the Temple gate,
4.10.57.7 |   By which I hardly past with much adoe:
4.10.57.8 |   But that same Ladie which me friended late
4.10.57.9 | In entrance, did me also friend in my retrate.

4.10.58.1 | No lesse did \Daunger\ threaten me with dread,
4.10.58.2 |   When as he saw me, maugre all his powre,
4.10.58.3 |   That glorious spoyle of beautie with me lead,
4.10.58.4 |   Then \Cerberus\, when \Orpheus\ did recoure
4.10.58.5 |   His Leman from the Stygian Princes boure.
4.10.58.6 |   But euermore my shield did me defend,
4.10.58.7 |   Against the storme of euery dreadfull stoure:
4.10.58.8 |   Thus safely with my loue I thence did wend.
4.10.58.9 | So ended he his tale, where I this Canto end.


4.11. A.1 | \Marinells former wound is heald,\
4.11. A.2 |   \he comes to Proteus hall,\
4.11. A.3 | \Where Thames doth the Medway wedd,\
4.11. A.4 |   \and feasts the Sea-gods all.\

4.11. 1.1 | Bvt ah for pittie that I haue thus long
4.11. 1.2 |   Left a fayre Ladie languishing in payne:
4.11. 1.3 |   Now well away, that I haue doen such wrong,
4.11. 1.4 |   To let faire \Florimell\ in bands remayne,
4.11. 1.5 |   In bands of loue, and in sad thraldomes chayne;
4.11. 1.6 |   From which vnlesse some heauenly powre her free
4.11. 1.7 |   By miracle, not yet appearing playne,
4.11. 1.8 |   She lenger yet is like captiu'd to bee:
4.11. 1.9 | That euen to thinke thereof, it inly pitties mee.

4.11. 2.1 | Here neede you to remember, how erewhile
4.11. 2.2 |   Vnlouely \Proteus\, missing to his mind
4.11. 2.3 |   That Virgins loue to win by wit or wile,
4.11. 2.4 |   Her threw into a dongeon deepe and blind,
4.11. 2.5 |   And there in chaynes her cruelly did bind,
4.11. 2.6 |   In hope thereby her to his bent to draw:
4.11. 2.7 |   For when as neither gifts nor graces kind
4.11. 2.8 |   Her constant mind could moue at all he saw,
4.11. 2.9 | He thought her to compell by crueltie and awe.

4.11. 3.1 | Deepe in the bottome of an huge great rocke
4.11. 3.2 |   The dongeon was, in which her bound he left,
4.11. 3.3 |   That neither yron barres, nor brasen locke
4.11. 3.4 |   Did neede to gard from force, or secret theft
4.11. 3.5 |   Of all her louers, which would her haue reft.
4.11. 3.6 |   For wall'd it was with waues, which rag'd and ror'd
4.11. 3.7 |   As they the cliffe in peeces would haue cleft;
4.11. 3.8 |   Besides ten thousand monsters foule abhor'd
4.11. 3.9 | Did waite about it, gaping griesly all begor'd.

4.11. 4.1 | And in the midst thereof did horror dwell,
4.11. 4.2 |   And darkenesse dredd, that neuer viewed day,
4.11. 4.3 |   Like to the balefull house of lowest hell,
4.11. 4.4 |   In which old \Styx\ her aged bones alway,
4.11. 4.5 |   Old \Styx\ the Grandame of the Gods, doth lay.
4.11. 4.6 |   There did this lucklesse mayd seuen months abide,
4.11. 4.7 |   Ne euer euening saw, ne mornings ray,
4.11. 4.8 |   Ne euer from the day the night descride,
4.11. 4.9 | But thought it all one night, that did no houres diuide.

4.11. 5.1 | And all this was for loue of \Marinell\,
4.11. 5.2 |   Who her despysd (ah who would her despyse?)
4.11. 5.3 |   And wemens loue did from his hart expell,
4.11. 5.4 |   And all those ioyes that weake mankind entyse.
4.11. 5.5 |   Nathlesse his pride full dearely he did pryse;
4.11. 5.6 |   For of a womans hand it was ywroke,
4.11. 5.7 |   That of the wound he yet in languor lyes,
4.11. 5.8 |   Ne can be cured of that cruell stroke
4.11. 5.9 | Which \Britomart\ him gaue, when he did her prouoke.

4.11. 6.1 | Yet farre and neare the Nymph his mother sought,
4.11. 6.2 |   And many salues did to his sore applie,
4.11. 6.3 |   And many herbes did vse. But when as nought
4.11. 6.4 |   She saw could ease his rankling maladie,
4.11. 6.5 |   At last to \Tryphon\ she for helpe did hie,
4.11. 6.6 |   (This \Tryphon\ is the seagods surgeon hight)
4.11. 6.7 |   Whom she besought to find some remedie:
4.11. 6.8 |   And for his paines a whistle him behight
4.11. 6.9 | That of a fishes shell was wrought with rare delight.

4.11. 7.1 | So well that Leach did hearke to her request,
4.11. 7.2 |   And did so well employ his carefull paine,
4.11. 7.3 |   That in short space his hurts he had redrest,
4.11. 7.4 |   And him restor'd to healthfull state againe:
4.11. 7.5 |   In which he long time after did remaine
4.11. 7.6 |   There with the Nymph his mother, like her thrall;
4.11. 7.7 |   Who sore against his will did him retaine,
4.11. 7.8 |   For feare of perill, which to him mote fall,
4.11. 7.9 | Through his too ventrous prowesse proued ouer all.

4.11. 8.1 | It fortun'd then, a solemne feast was there
4.11. 8.2 |   To all the Sea-gods and their fruitfull seede,
4.11. 8.3 |   In honour of the spousalls, which then were
4.11. 8.4 |   Betwixt the \Medway\ and the \Thames\ agreed.
4.11. 8.5 |   Long had the \Thames\ (as we in records reed)
4.11. 8.6 |   Before that day her wooed to his bed;
4.11. 8.7 |   But the proud Nymph would for no worldly meed,
4.11. 8.8 |   Nor no entreatie to his loue be led;
4.11. 8.9 | Till now at last relenting, she to him was wed.

4.11. 9.1 | So both agreed, that this their bridale feast
4.11. 9.2 |   Should for the Gods in \Proteus\ house be made;
4.11. 9.3 |   To which they all repayr'd, both most and least,
4.11. 9.4 |   Aswell which in the mightie Ocean trade,
4.11. 9.5 |   As that in riuers swim, or brookes doe wade.
4.11. 9.6 |   All which not if an hundred tongues to tell,
4.11. 9.7 |   And hundred mouthes, and voice of brasse I had,
4.11. 9.8 |   And endlesse memorie, that mote excell,
4.11. 9.9 | In order as they came, could I recount them well.

4.11.10.1 | Helpe therefore, O thou sacred imp of \Ioue\,
4.11.10.2 |   The noursling of Dame \Memorie\ his deare,
4.11.10.3 |   To whom those rolles, layd vp in heauen aboue,
4.11.10.4 |   And records of antiquitie appeare,
4.11.10.5 |   To which no wit of man may comen neare;
4.11.10.6 |   Helpe me to tell the names of all those floods,
4.11.10.7 |   And all those Nymphes, which then assembled were
4.11.10.8 |   To that great banquet of the watry Gods,
4.11.10.9 | And all their sundry kinds, and all their hid abodes.

4.11.11.1 | First came great \Neptune\ with his threeforkt mace,
4.11.11.2 |   That rules the Seas, and makes them rise or fall;
4.11.11.3 |   His dewy lockes did drop with brine apace,
4.11.11.4 |   Vnder his Diademe imperiall:
4.11.11.5 |   And by his side his Queene with coronall,
4.11.11.6 |   Faire \Amphitrite\, most diuinely faire,
4.11.11.7 |   Whose yuorie shoulders weren couered all,
4.11.11.8 |   As with a robe, with her owne siluer haire,
4.11.11.9 | And deckt with pearles, which th'=Indian seas for her prepaire.

4.11.12.1 | These marched farre afore the other crew;
4.11.12.2 |   And all the way before them as they went,
4.11.12.3 |   \Triton\ his trompet shrill before them blew,
4.11.12.4 |   For goodly triumph and great iollyment,
4.11.12.5 |   That made the rockes to roare, as they were rent.
4.11.12.6 |   And after them the royall issue came,
4.11.12.7 |   Which of them sprung by lineall descent:
4.11.12.8 |   First the Sea-gods, which to themselues doe clame
4.11.12.9 | The powre to rule the billowes, and the waues to tame.

4.11.13.1 | \Phorcys\, the father of that fatall brood,
4.11.13.2 |   By whom those old Heroes wonne such fame;
4.11.13.3 |   And \Glaucus\, that wise southsayes vnderstood;
4.11.13.4 |   And tragicke \Ino+es\ sonne, the which became
4.11.13.5 |   A God of seas through his mad mothers blame,
4.11.13.6 |   Now hight \Palemon\, and is saylers frend;
4.11.13.7 |   Great \Brontes\, and \Astra+eus\, that did shame
4.11.13.8 |   Himselfe with incest of his kin vnkend;
4.11.13.9 | And huge \Orion\, that doth tempests still portend.

4.11.14.1 | The rich \Cteatus\, and \Eurytus\ long;
4.11.14.2 |   \Neleus\ and \Pelias\ louely brethren both;
4.11.14.3 |   Mightie \Chrysaor\, and \Cai|cus\ strong;
4.11.14.4 |   \Eurypulus\, that calmes the waters wroth;
4.11.14.5 |   And faire \Euphaemus\, that vpon them goth
4.11.14.6 |   As on the ground, without dismay or dread:
4.11.14.7 |   Fierce \Eryx\, and \Alebius\ that know'th
4.11.14.8 |   The waters depth, and doth their bottome tread;
4.11.14.9 | And sad \Asopus\, comely with his hoarie head.

4.11.15.1 | There also some most famous founders were
4.11.15.2 |   Of puissant Nations, which the world possest;
4.11.15.3 |   Yet sonnes of \Neptune\, now assembled here:
4.11.15.4 |   Ancient \Ogyges\, even th'=auncientest,
4.11.15.5 |   And \Inachus\ renowmd aboue the rest;
4.11.15.6 |   \Pho+enix\, and \Aon\, and \Pelasgus\ old,
4.11.15.7 |   Great \Belus\, \Pho+eax\, and \Agenor\ best;
4.11.15.8 |   And mightie \Albion\, father of the bold
4.11.15.9 | And warlike people, which the \Britaine\ Islands hold.

4.11.16.1 | For \Albion\ the sonne of \Neptune\ was,
4.11.16.2 |   Who for the proofe of his great puissance,
4.11.16.3 |   Out of his \Albion\ did on dry-foot pas
4.11.16.4 |   Into old \Gall\, that now is cleeped \France\,
4.11.16.5 |   To fight with \Hercules\, that did aduance
4.11.16.6 |   To vanquish all the world with matchlesse might,
4.11.16.7 |   And there his mortall part by great mischance
4.11.16.8 |   Was slaine: but that which is th'=immortall spright
4.11.16.9 | Liues still: and to this feast with \Neptunes\ seed was dight.

4.11.17.1 | But what doe I their names seeke to reherse,
4.11.17.2 |   Which all the world haue with their issue fild?
4.11.17.3 |   How can they all in this so narrow verse
4.11.17.4 |   Contayned be, and in small compasse hild?
4.11.17.5 |   Let them record them, that are better skild,
4.11.17.6 |   And know the moniments of passed times:
4.11.17.7 |   Onely what needeth, shall be here fulfild,
4.11.17.8 |   T'=expresse some part of that great equipage,
4.11.17.9 | Which from great \Neptune\ do deriue their parentage.

4.11.18.1 | Next came the aged \Ocean\, and his Dame,
4.11.18.2 |   Old \Tethys\, th'=oldest two of all the rest,
4.11.18.3 |   For all the rest of those two parents came,
4.11.18.4 |   Which afterward both sea and land possest:
4.11.18.5 |   Of all which \Nereus\ th'=eldest, and the best,
4.11.18.6 |   Did first proceed, then which none more vpright,
4.11.18.7 |   Ne more sincere in word and deed profest;
4.11.18.8 |   Most voide of guile, most free from fowle despight,
4.11.18.9 | Doing him selfe, and teaching others to doe right.

4.11.19.1 | Thereto he was expert in prophecies,
4.11.19.2 |   And could the ledden of the Gods vnfold,
4.11.19.3 |   Through which, when \Paris\ brought his famous prise
4.11.19.4 |   The faire Tindarid lasse, he him fortold,
4.11.19.5 |   That her all \Greece\ with many a champion bold
4.11.19.6 |   Should fetch againe, and finally destroy
4.11.19.7 |   Proud \Priams\ towne. So wise is \Nereus\ old,
4.11.19.8 |   And so well skild; nathlesse he takes great ioy
4.11.19.9 | Oft-times amongst the wanton Nymphs to sport and toy.

4.11.20.1 | And after him the famous riuers came,
4.11.20.2 |   Which doe the earth enrich and beautifie:
4.11.20.3 |   The fertile Nile, which creatures new doth frame;
4.11.20.4 |   Long Rhodanus, whose sourse springs from the skie;
4.11.20.5 |   Faire Ister, flowing from the mountaines hie;
4.11.20.6 |   Diuine Scamander, purpled yet with blood
4.11.20.7 |   Of Greekes and Troians, which therein did die;
4.11.20.8 |   Pactolus glistring with his golden flood,
4.11.20.9 | And Tygris fierce, whose streames of none may be withstood.

4.11.21.1 | Great Ganges, and immortall Euphrates,
4.11.21.2 |   Deepe Indus, and Ma+eander intricate,
4.11.21.3 |   Slow Peneus, and tempestuous Phasides,
4.11.21.4 |   Swift Rhene, and Alpheus still immaculate:
4.11.21.5 |   Ooraxes, feared for great \Cyrus\ fate;
4.11.21.6 |   Tybris, renowmed for the Romaines fame,
4.11.21.7 |   Rich Oranochy, though but knowen late;
4.11.21.8 |   And that huge Riuer, which doth beare his name
4.11.21.9 | Of warlike Amazons, which doe possesse the same.

4.11.22.1 | Ioy on those warlike women, which so long
4.11.22.2 |   Can from all men so rich a kingdome hold;
4.11.22.3 |   And shame on you, O men, which boast your strong
4.11.22.4 |   And valiant hearts, in thoughts lesse hard and bold,
4.11.22.5 |   Yet quaile in conquest of that land of gold.
4.11.22.6 |   But this to you, O Britons, most pertaines,
4.11.22.7 |   To whom the right hereof it selfe hath sold;
4.11.22.8 |   The which for sparing litle cost or paines,
4.11.22.9 | Loose so immortall glory, and so endlesse gaines.

4.11.23.1 | Then was there heard a most celestiall sound,
4.11.23.2 |   Of dainty musicke, which did next ensew
4.11.23.3 |   Before the spouse: that was \Arion\ crownd;
4.11.23.4 |   Who playing on his harpe, vnto him drew
4.11.23.5 |   The eares and hearts of all that goodly crew,
4.11.23.6 |   That euen yet the Dolphin, which him bore
4.11.23.7 |   Through the A+Ega+ean seas from Pirates vew,
4.11.23.8 |   Stood still by him astonisht at his lore,
4.11.23.9 | And all the raging seas for ioy forgot to rore.

4.11.24.1 | So went he playing on the watery plaine.
4.11.24.2 |   Soone after whom the louely Bridegroome came,
4.11.24.3 |   The noble Thamis, with all his goodly traine,
4.11.24.4 |   But him before there went, as best became,
4.11.24.5 |   His auncient parents, namely th'=auncient Thame.
4.11.24.6 |   But much more aged was his wife then he,
4.11.24.7 |   The Ouze, whom men doe Isis rightly name;
4.11.24.8 |   Full weake and crooked creature seemed shee,
4.11.24.9 | And almost blind through eld, that scarce her way could see.

4.11.25.1 | Therefore on either side she was sustained
4.11.25.2 |   Of two smal grooms, which by their names were hight
4.11.25.3 |   The \Churne\, and \Charwell\, two small streames, which pained
4.11.25.4 |   Them selues her footing to direct aright,
4.11.25.5 |   Which fayled oft through faint and feeble plight:
4.11.25.6 |   But \Thame\ was stronger, and of better stay;
4.11.25.7 |   Yet seem'd full aged by his outward sight,
4.11.25.8 |   With head all hoary, and his beard all gray,
4.11.25.9 | Deawed with siluer drops, that trickled downe alway.

4.11.26.1 | And eke he somewhat seem'd to stoupe afore
4.11.26.2 |   With bowed backe, by reason of the lode,
4.11.26.3 |   And auncient heauy burden, which he bore
4.11.26.4 |   Of that faire City, wherein make abode
4.11.26.5 |   So many learned impes, that shoote abrode,
4.11.26.6 |   And with their braunches spred all Britany,
4.11.26.7 |   No lesse then do her elder sisters broode.
4.11.26.8 |   Ioy to you both, ye double noursery
4.11.26.9 | Or Arts, but Oxford thine doth \Thame\ most glorify.

4.11.27.1 | But he their sonne full fresh and iolly was,
4.11.27.2 |   All decked in a robe of watchet hew,
4.11.27.3 |   On which the waues, glittering like Christall glas,
4.11.27.4 |   So cunningly enwouen were, that few
4.11.27.5 |   Could weenen, whether they were false or trew.
4.11.27.6 |   And on his head like to a Coronet
4.11.27.7 |   He wore, that seemed strange to common vew,
4.11.27.8 |   In which were many towres and castels set,
4.11.27.9 | That it encompast round as with a golden fret.

4.11.28.1 | Like as the mother of the Gods, they say,
4.11.28.2 |   In her great iron charet wonts to ride,
4.11.28.3 |   When to \Ioues\ pallace she doth take her way:
4.11.28.4 |   Old \Cybele\, arayd with pompous pride,
4.11.28.5 |   Wearing a Diademe embattild wide
4.11.28.6 |   With hundred turrets, like a Turribant.
4.11.28.7 |   With such an one was Thamis beautifide;
4.11.28.8 |   That was to weet the famous Troynouant,
4.11.28.9 | In which her kingdomes throne is chiefly resiant.

4.11.29.1 | And round about him many a pretty Page
4.11.29.2 |   Attended duely, ready to obay;
4.11.29.3 |   All little Riuers, which owe vassallage
4.11.29.4 |   To him, as to their Lord, and tribute pay:
4.11.29.5 |   The chaulky Kenet, and the Thetis gray,
4.11.29.6 |   The morish Cole, and the soft sliding Breane,
4.11.29.7 |   The wanton Lee, that oft doth loose his way,
4.11.29.8 |   And the still Darent, in whose waters cleane
4.11.29.9 | Ten thousand fishes play, and decke his pleasant streame.

4.11.30.1 | Then came his neighbour flouds, which nigh him dwell,
4.11.30.2 |   And water all the English soile throughout;
4.11.30.3 |   They all on him this day attended well;
4.11.30.4 |   And with meet seruice waited him about;
4.11.30.5 |   Ne none disdained low to him to lout:
4.11.30.6 |   No not the stately Seuerne grudg'd at all,
4.11.30.7 |   Ne storming Humber, though he looked stout;
4.11.30.8 |   But both him honor'd as their principall,
4.11.30.9 | And let their swelling waters low before him fall.

4.11.31.1 | There was the speedy Tamar, which deuides
4.11.31.2 |   The Cornish and the Deuonish confines;
4.11.31.3 |   Through both whose borders swiftly downe it glides,
4.11.31.4 |   And meeting Plim, to Plimmouth thence declines:
4.11.31.5 |   And Dart, nigh chockt with sands of tinny mines.
4.11.31.6 |   But Auon marched in more stately path,
4.11.31.7 |   Proud of his Adamants, with which he shines
4.11.31.8 |   And glisters wide, as als' of wondrous Bath,
4.11.31.9 | And Bristow faire, which on his waues he builded hath.

4.11.32.1 | And there came Stoure with terrible aspect,
4.11.32.2 |   Bearing his sixe deformed heads on hye,
4.11.32.3 |   That doth his course through Blandford plains direct,
4.11.32.4 |   And washeth Winborne meades in season drye.
4.11.32.5 |   Next him went Wylibourne with passage slye,
4.11.32.6 |   That of his wylinesse his name doth take,
4.11.32.7 |   And of him selfe doth name the shire thereby:
4.11.32.8 |   And Mole, that like a nousling Mole doth make
4.11.32.9 | His way still vnder ground, till Thamis he ouertake.

4.11.33.1 | Then came the Rother, decked all with woods
4.11.33.2 |   Like a wood God, and flowing fast to Rhy:
4.11.33.3 |   And Sture, that parteth with his pleasant floods
4.11.33.4 |   The Easterne Saxons from the Southerne ny,
4.11.33.5 |   And Clare, and Harwitch both doth beautify:
4.11.33.6 |   Him follow'd Yar, soft washing Norwitch wall,
4.11.33.7 |   And with him brought a present ioyfully
4.11.33.8 |   Of his owne fish vnto their festiuall,
4.11.33.9 | Whose like none else could shew, the which they Ruffins call.

4.11.34.1 | Next these the plenteous Ouse came far from land,
4.11.34.2 |   By many a city, and by many a towne,
4.11.34.3 |   And many riuers taking vnder hand
4.11.34.4 |   Into his waters, as he passeth downe,
4.11.34.5 |   The Cle, the Were, the Grant, the Sture, the Rowne.
4.11.34.6 |   Thence doth by Huntingdon and Cambridge flit,
4.11.34.7 |   My mother Cambridge, whom as with a Crowne
4.11.34.8 |   He doth adorne, and is adorn'd of it
4.11.34.9 | With many a gentle Muse, and many a learned wit.

4.11.35.1 | And after him the fatall Welland went,
4.11.35.2 |   That if old sawes proue true (which God forbid)
4.11.35.3 |   Shall drowne all Holland with his excrement,
4.11.35.4 |   And shall see Stamford, though now homely hid,
4.11.35.5 |   Then shine in learning, more then euer did
4.11.35.6 |   Cambridge or Oxford, Englands goodly beames.
4.11.35.7 |   And next to him the Nene downe softly slid;
4.11.35.8 |   And bounteous Trent, that in him selfe enseames
4.11.35.9 | Both thirty sorts of fish, and thirty sundry streames.

4.11.36.1 | Next these came Tyne, along whose stony bancke
4.11.36.2 |   That Romaine Monarch built a brasen wall,
4.11.36.3 |   Which mote the feebled Britons strongly flancke
4.11.36.4 |   Against the Picts, that swarmed ouer all,
4.11.36.5 |   Which yet thereof Gualseuer they doe call:
4.11.36.6 |   And Twede the limit betwixt Logris land
4.11.36.7 |   And Albany: And Eden though but small,
4.11.36.8 |   Yet often stainde with bloud of many a band
4.11.36.9 | Of Scots and English both, that tyned on his strand.

4.11.37.1 | Then came those sixe sad brethren, like forlorne,
4.11.37.2 |   That whilome were (as antique fathers tell)
4.11.37.3 |   Sixe valiant Knights, of one faire Nymphe yborne,
4.11.37.4 |   Which did in noble deedes of armes excell,
4.11.37.5 |   And wonned there, where now Yorke people dwell;
4.11.37.6 |   Still Vre, swift Werfe, and Oze the most of might,
4.11.37.7 |   High Swale, vnquiet Nide, and troublous Skell;
4.11.37.8 |   All whom a Scythian king, that Humber hight,
4.11.37.9 | Slew cruelly, and in the riuer drowned quight.

4.11.38.1 | But past not long, ere \Brutus\ warlicke sonne
4.11.38.2 |   \Locrinus\ them aueng'd, and the same date,
4.11.38.3 |   Which the proud Humber vnto them had donne,
4.11.38.4 |   By equall dome repayd on his owne pate:
4.11.38.5 |   For in the selfe same riuer, where he late
4.11.38.6 |   Had drenched them, he drowned him againe;
4.11.38.7 |   And nam'd the riuer of his wretched fate;
4.11.38.8 |   Whose bad condition yet it doth retaine,
4.11.38.9 | Oft tossed with his stormes, which therein still remaine.

4.11.39.1 | These after, came the stony shallow Lone,
4.11.39.2 |   That to old Loncaster his name doth lend;
4.11.39.3 |   And following Dee, which Britons long ygone
4.11.39.4 |   Did call diuine, that doth by Chester tend;
4.11.39.5 |   And Conway which out of his streame doth send
4.11.39.6 |   Plenty of pearles to decke his dames withall,
4.11.39.7 |   And Lindus that his pikes doth most commend,
4.11.39.8 |   Of which the auncient Lincolne men doe call;
4.11.39.9 | All these together marched toward \Proteus\ hall.

4.11.40.1 | Ne thence the Irishe Riuers absent were,
4.11.40.2 |   Sith no lesse famous then the rest they bee,
4.11.40.3 |   And ioyne in neighbourhood of kingdome nere,
4.11.40.4 |   Why should they not likewise in loue agree,
4.11.40.5 |   And ioy likewise this solemne day to see?
4.11.40.6 |   They saw it all, and present were in place;
4.11.40.7 |   Though I them all according their degree,
4.11.40.8 |   Cannot recount, nor tell their hidden race,
4.11.40.9 | Nor read the saluage cuntreis, thorough which they pace.

4.11.41.1 | There was the Liffy rolling downe the lea,
4.11.41.2 |   The sandy Slane, the stony Aubrian,
4.11.41.3 |   The spacious Shenan spreading like a sea,
4.11.41.4 |   The pleasant Boyne, the fishy fruitfull Ban,
4.11.41.5 |   Swift Awniduff, which of the English man
4.11.41.6 |   Is cal'de Blacke water, and the Liffar deep,
4.11.41.7 |   Sad Trowis, that once his people ouerran,
4.11.41.8 |   Strong Allo tombling from Slewlogher steep,
4.11.41.9 | And Mulla mine, whose waues I whilom taught to weep.

4.11.42.1 | And there the three renowmed brethren were,
4.11.42.2 |   Which that great Gyant \Blomius\ begot,
4.11.42.3 |   Of the faire Nimph \Rheusa\ wandring there.
4.11.42.4 |   One day, as she to shunne the season whot,
4.11.42.5 |   Vnder Slewbloome in shady groue was got,
4.11.42.6 |   This Gyant found her, and by force deflowr'd,
4.11.42.7 |   Whereof conceiuing, she in time forth brought
4.11.42.8 |   These three faire sons, which being thence forth powrd
4.11.42.9 | In three great riuers ran, and many countreis scowrd.

4.11.43.1 | The first, the gentle Shure that making way
4.11.43.2 |   By sweet Clonmell, adornes rich Waterford;
4.11.43.3 |   The next, the stubborne Newre, whose waters gray
4.11.43.4 |   By faire Kilkenny and Rosseponte boord,
4.11.43.5 |   The third, the goodly Barow, which doth hoord
4.11.43.6 |   Great heapes of Salmons in his deepe bosome:
4.11.43.7 |   All which long sundred, doe at last accord
4.11.43.8 |   To ioyne in one, ere to the sea they come,
4.11.43.9 | So flowing all from one, all one at last become.

4.11.44.1 | There also was the wide embayed Mayre,
4.11.44.2 |   The pleasaunt Bandon crownd with many a wood,
4.11.44.3 |   The spreading Lee, that like an Island fayre
4.11.44.4 |   Encloseth Corke with his deuided flood;
4.11.44.5 |   And balefull Oure, late staind with English blood:
4.11.44.6 |   With many more, whose names no tongue can tell.
4.11.44.7 |   All which that day in order seemly good
4.11.44.8 |   Did on the Thamis attend, and waited well
4.11.44.9 | To doe their duefull seruice, as to them befell.

4.11.45.1 | Then came the Bride, the louely \Medua\ came,
4.11.45.2 |   Clad in a vesture of vnknowen geare,
4.11.45.3 |   And vncouth fashion, yet her well became;
4.11.45.4 |   That seem'd like siluer, sprinckled here and theare
4.11.45.5 |   With glittering spangs, that did like starres appeare,
4.11.45.6 |   And wau'd vpon, like water Chamelot,
4.11.45.7 |   To hide the metall, which yet euery where
4.11.45.8 |   Bewrayd it selfe, to let men plainely wot,
4.11.45.9 | It was no mortall worke, that seem'd and yet was not.

4.11.46.1 | Her goodly lockes adowne her backe did flow
4.11.46.2 |   Vnto her waste, with flowres bescattered,
4.11.46.3 |   The which ambrosiall odours forth did throw
4.11.46.4 |   To all about, and all her shoulders spred
4.11.46.5 |   As a new spring; and likewise on her hed
4.11.46.6 |   A Chapelet of sundry flowers she wore,
4.11.46.7 |   From vnder which the deawy humour shed,
4.11.46.8 |   Did tricle downe her haire, like to the hore
4.11.46.9 | Congealed litle drops, which doe the morne adore.

4.11.47.1 | On her two pretty handmaides did attend,
4.11.47.2 |   One cald the \Theise\, the other cald the \Crane\;
4.11.47.3 |   Which on her waited, things amisse to mend,
4.11.47.4 |   And both behind vpheld her spredding traine;
4.11.47.5 |   Vnder the which, her feet appeared plaine,
4.11.47.6 |   Her siluer feet, faire washt against this day:
4.11.47.7 |   And her before there paced Pages twaine,
4.11.47.8 |   Both clad in colours like, and like array,
4.11.47.9 | The \Doune\ and eke the \Frith\, both which prepard her way.

4.11.48.1 | And after these the Sea Nymphs marched all,
4.11.48.2 |   All goodly damzels, deckt with long greene haire,
4.11.48.3 |   Whom of their sire \Nereides\ men call,
4.11.48.4 |   All which the Oceans daughter to him bare
4.11.48.5 |   The gray eyde \Doris\: all which fifty are;
4.11.48.6 |   All which she there on her attending had.
4.11.48.7 |   Swift \Proto\, milde \Eucrate\, \Thetis\ faire,
4.11.48.8 |   Soft \Spio\, sweete \Eudore\, \Sao\ sad,
4.11.48.9 | Light \Doto\, wanton \Glauce\, and \Galene\ glad.

4.11.49.1 | White hand \Eunica\, proud \Dynamene\,
4.11.49.2 |   Ioyous \Thalia\, goodly \Amphitrite\,
4.11.49.3 |   Louely \Pasithee\, kinde \Eulimene\,
4.11.49.4 |   Lifht goote \Cymothoe\, and sweete \Melite\,
4.11.49.5 |   Fairest \Pherusa\, \Phao\ lilly white,
4.11.49.6 |   Wondred \Agaue\, \Poris\, and \Nesa+ea\,
4.11.49.7 |   With \Erato\ that doth in loue delite,
4.11.49.8 |   And \Panopa+e\, and wise \Protomedaea\,
4.11.49.9 | And snowy neckd \Doris\, and milkewhite \Galathaea\.

4.11.50.1 | Speedy \Hippothoe\, and chaste \Actea\,
4.11.50.2 |   Large \Lisianassa\, and \Prona+ea\ sage,
4.11.50.3 |   \Euagore\, and light \Pontoporea\,
4.11.50.4 |   And she, that with her least word can asswage
4.11.50.5 |   The surging seas, when they do sorest rage,
4.11.50.6 |   \Cymodoce\, and stout \Autonoe\,
4.11.50.7 |   And \Neso\, and \Eione\ well in age,
4.11.50.8 |   And seeming still to smile, \Glauconome\,
4.11.50.9 | And she that hight of many heastes \Polynome\.

4.11.51.1 | Fresh \Alimeda\, deckt with girlond greene;
4.11.51.2 |   \Hyponeo\, with salt bedewed wrests:
4.11.51.3 |   \Laomedia\, like the christall sheene;
4.11.51.4 |   \Liagore\, much praisd for wise behests;
4.11.51.5 |   And \Psamathe\, for her brode snowy brests;
4.11.51.6 |   \Cymo\, \Eupompe\, and \Themiste\ iust;
4.11.51.7 |   And she that vertue loues and vice detests
4.11.51.8 |   \Euarna\, and \Menippe\ true in trust,
4.11.51.9 | And \Nemertea\ learned well to rule her lust.

4.11.52.1 | All these the daughters of old \Nereus\ were,
4.11.52.2 |   Which haue the sea in charge to them assinde,
4.11.52.3 |   To rule his tides, and surges to vprere,
4.11.52.4 |   To bring forth stormes, or fast them to vpbinde,
4.11.52.5 |   And sailers saue from wreckes of wrathfull winde.
4.11.52.6 |   And yet besides three thousand more there were
4.11.52.7 |   Of th'=Oceans seede, but \Ioues\ and \Pho+ebus\ kinde;
4.11.52.8 |   The which in floods and fountaines doe appere,
4.11.52.9 | And all mankinde do nourish with their waters clere.

4.11.53.1 | The which, more eath it were for mortall wight,
4.11.53.2 |   To tell the sands, or count the starres on hye,
4.11.53.3 |   Or ought more hard, then thinke to reckon right.
4.11.53.4 |   But well I wote, that these which I descry,
4.11.53.5 |   Were present at this great solemnity:
4.11.53.6 |   And there amongst the rest, the mother was
4.11.53.7 |   Of luckelesse \Marinell Cymodoce\.
4.11.53.8 |   Which, for my Muse her selfe now tyred has,
4.11.53.9 | Vnto an other Canto I will ouerpas.


4.12. A.1 | \Marin for loue of Florimell,\
4.12. A.2 |   \In languor wastes his life:\
4.12. A.3 | \The Nymph his mother getteth her,\
4.12. A.4 |   \And giues to him for wife.\

4.12. 1.1 | O what an endlesse worke haue I in hand,
4.12. 1.2 |   To count the seas abundant progeny,
4.12. 1.3 |   Whose fruitfull seede farre passeth those in land,
4.12. 1.4 |   And also those which wonne in th'=azure sky?
4.12. 1.5 |   For much more eath to tell the starres on hy,
4.12. 1.6 |   Albe they endlesse seeme in estimation,
4.12. 1.7 |   Then to recount the Seas posterity:
4.12. 1.8 |   So fertile be the flouds in generation,
4.12. 1.9 | So huge their numbers, and so numberlesse their nation.

4.12. 2.1 | Therefore the antique wisards well inuented,
4.12. 2.2 |   That \Venus\ of the fomy sea was bred;
4.12. 2.3 |   For that the seas by her are most augmented.
4.12. 2.4 |   Witnesse th'=exceeding fry, which there are fed,
4.12. 2.5 |   And wondrous sholes, which may of none be red.
4.12. 2.6 |   Then blame me not, if I haue err'd in count
4.12. 2.7 |   Of Gods, of Nymphs, of riuers yet vnred:
4.12. 2.8 |   For though their numbers do much more surmount,
4.12. 2.9 | Yet all those same were there, which erst I did recount.

4.12. 3.1 | All those were there, and many other more,
4.12. 3.2 |   Whose names and nations were too long to tell,
4.12. 3.3 |   That \Proteus\ house they fild euen to the dore;
4.12. 3.4 |   Yet were they all in order, as befell,
4.12. 3.5 |   According their degrees disposed well.
4.12. 3.6 |   Amongst the rest, was faire \Cymodoce\,
4.12. 3.7 |   The mother of vnlucky \Marinell\,
4.12. 3.8 |   Who thither with her came, to learne and see
4.12. 3.9 | The manner of the Gods when they at banquet be.

4.12. 4.1 | But for he was halfe mortall, being bred
4.12. 4.2 |   Of mortall sire, though of immortall wombe,
4.12. 4.3 |   He might not with immortall food be fed,
4.12. 4.4 |   Ne with th'=eternall Gods to bancket come;
4.12. 4.5 |   But walkt abrode, and round about did rome,
4.12. 4.6 |   To view the building of that vncouth place,
4.12. 4.7 |   That seem'd vnlike vnto his earthly home:
4.12. 4.8 |   Where, as he to and fro by chaunce did trace,
4.12. 4.9 | There vnto him betid a disauentrous case.

4.12. 5.1 | Vnder the hanging of an hideous clieffe,
4.12. 5.2 |   He heard the lamentable voice of one,
4.12. 5.3 |   That piteously complaind her carefull grieffe,
4.12. 5.4 |   Which neuer she before disclosd to none,
4.12. 5.5 |   But to her selfe her sorrow did bemone.
4.12. 5.6 |   So feelingly her case she did complaine,
4.12. 5.7 |   That ruth it moued in the rocky stone,
4.12. 5.8 |   And made it seeme to feele her grieuous paine,
4.12. 5.9 | And oft to grone with billowes beating from the maine.

4.12. 6.1 | Though vaine I see my sorrowes to vnfold,
4.12. 6.2 |   And count my cares, when none is nigh to heare,
4.12. 6.3 |   Yet hoping griefe may lessen being told,
4.12. 6.4 |   I will them tell though vnto no man neare:
4.12. 6.5 |   For heauen that vnto all lends equall eare,
4.12. 6.6 |   Is farre from hearing of my heauy plight;
4.12. 6.7 |   And lowest hell, to which I lie most neare,
4.12. 6.8 |   Cares not what euils hap to wretched wight;
4.12. 6.9 | And greedy seas doe in the spoile of life delight.

4.12. 7.1 | Yet loe the seas I see by often beating,
4.12. 7.2 |   Doe pearce the rockes, and hardest marble weares;
4.12. 7.3 |   But his hard rocky hart for no entreating
4.12. 7.4 |   Will yeeld, but when my piteous plaints he heares,
4.12. 7.5 |   Is hardned more with my aboundant teares.
4.12. 7.6 |   Yet though he neuer list to me relent,
4.12. 7.7 |   But let me waste in woe my wretched yeares,
4.12. 7.8 |   Yet will I neuer of my loue repent,
4.12. 7.9 | But ioy that for his sake I suffer prisonment.

4.12. 8.1 | And when my weary ghost with griefe outworne,
4.12. 8.2 |   By timely death shall winne her wished rest,
4.12. 8.3 |   Let then this plaint vnto his eares be borne,
4.12. 8.4 |   That blame it is to him, that armes profest,
4.12. 8.5 |   To let her die, whom he might haue redrest.
4.12. 8.6 |   There did she pause, inforced to giue place,
4.12. 8.7 |   Vnto the passion, that her heart opprest,
4.12. 8.8 |   And after she had wept and wail'd a space,
4.12. 8.9 | She gan afresh thus to renew her wretched case.

4.12. 9.1 | Ye Gods of seas, if any Gods at all
4.12. 9.2 |   Haue care of right, or ruth of wretches wrong,
4.12. 9.3 |   By one or other way me woefull thrall,
4.12. 9.4 |   Deliuer hence out of this dungeon strong,
4.12. 9.5 |   In which I daily dying am too long.
4.12. 9.6 |   And if ye deeme me death for louing one,
4.12. 9.7 |   That loues not me, then doe it not prolong,
4.12. 9.8 |   But let me die and end my daies attone,
4.12. 9.9 | And let him liue vnlou'd, or loue him selfe alone.

4.12.10.1 | But if that life ye vnto me decree,
4.12.10.2 |   Then let mee liue, as louers ought to do,
4.12.10.3 |   And of my lifes deare loue beloued be:
4.12.10.4 |   And if he shall through pride your doome vndo,
4.12.10.5 |   Do you by duresse him compell thereto,
4.12.10.6 |   And in this prison put him here with me:
4.12.10.7 |   One prison fittest is to hold vs two:
4.12.10.8 |   So had I rather to be thrall, then free;
4.12.10.9 | Such thraldome or such freedome let it surely be.

4.12.11.1 | But O vaine iudgement, and conditions vaine,
4.12.11.2 |   The which the prisoner points vnto the free,
4.12.11.3 |   The whiles I him condemne, and deeme his paine,
4.12.11.4 |   He where he list goes loose, and laughes at me.
4.12.11.5 |   So euer loose, so euer happy be.
4.12.11.6 |   But where so loose or happy that thou art,
4.12.11.7 |   Know \Marinell\ that all this is for thee.
4.12.11.8 |   With that she wept and wail'd, as if her hart
4.12.11.9 | Would quite haue burst through great abundance of her smart.

4.12.12.1 | All which complaint when \Marinell\ had heard,
4.12.12.2 |   And vnderstood the cause of all her care
4.12.12.3 |   To come of him, for vsing her so hard,
4.12.12.4 |   His stubborne heart, that neuer felt misfare
4.12.12.5 |   Was toucht with soft remorse and pitty rare;
4.12.12.6 |   That euen for griefe of minde he oft did grone,
4.12.12.7 |   And inly wish, that in his powre it weare
4.12.12.8 |   Her to redresse: but since he meanes found none
4.12.12.9 | He could no more but her great misery bemone.

4.12.13.1 | Thus whilst his stony heart with tender ruth
4.12.13.2 |   Was toucht, and mighty courage mollifide,
4.12.13.3 |   Dame \Venus\ sonne that tameth stubborne youth
4.12.13.4 |   With iron bit, and maketh him abide,
4.12.13.5 |   Till like a victor on his backe he ride,
4.12.13.6 |   Into his mouth his maystring bridle threw,
4.12.13.7 |   That made him stoupe, till he did him bestride:
4.12.13.8 |   Then gan he make him tread his steps anew,
4.12.13.9 | And learne to loue, by learning louers paines to rew.

4.12.14.1 | Now gan he in his grieued minde deuise,
4.12.14.2 |   How from that dungeon he might her enlarge:
4.12.14.3 |   Some while he thought, by faire and humble wise
4.12.14.4 |   To \Proteus\ selfe to sue for her discharge:
4.12.14.5 |   But then he fear'd his mothers former charge
4.12.14.6 |   Gainst womens loue, long giuen him in vaine.
4.12.14.7 |   Then gan he thinke, perforce with sword and targe
4.12.14.8 |   Her forth to fetch, and \Proteus\ to constraine:
4.12.14.9 | But soone he gan such folly to forthinke againe.

4.12.15.1 | Then did he cast to steale her thence away,
4.12.15.2 |   And with him beare, where none of her might know.
4.12.15.3 |   But all in vaine: for why he found no way
4.12.15.4 |   To enter in, or issue forth below:
4.12.15.5 |   For all about that rocke the sea did flow.
4.12.15.6 |   And though vnto his will she giuen were,
4.12.15.7 |   Yet without ship or bote her thence to row,
4.12.15.8 |   He wist not how her thence away to bere;
4.12.15.9 | And daunger well he wist long to continue there.

4.12.16.1 | At last when as no meanes he could inuent,
4.12.16.2 |   Backe to him selfe he gan returne the blame,
4.12.16.3 |   That was the author of her punishment;
4.12.16.4 |   And with vile curses, and reprochfull shame
4.12.16.5 |   To damne him selfe by euery euill name;
4.12.16.6 |   And deeme vnworthy or of loue or life,
4.12.16.7 |   That had despisde so chast and faire a dame,
4.12.16.8 |   Which him had sought through trouble and long strife;
4.12.16.9 | Yet had refusde a God that her had sought to wife.

4.12.17.1 | In this sad plight he walked here and there,
4.12.17.2 |   And romed round about the rocke in vaine,
4.12.17.3 |   As he had lost him selfe, he wist not where;
4.12.17.4 |   Oft listening if he mote her heare againe;
4.12.17.5 |   And still bemoning her vnworthy paine.
4.12.17.6 |   Like as an Hynde whose calfe is falne vnwares
4.12.17.7 |   Into some pit, where she him heares complaine,
4.12.17.8 |   An hundred times about the pit side fares,
4.12.17.9 | Right sorrowfully mourning her bereaued cares.

4.12.18.1 | And now by this the feast was throughly ended,
4.12.18.2 |   And euery one gan homeward to resort.
4.12.18.3 |   Which seeing \Marinell\, was sore offended,
4.12.18.4 |   That his departure thence should be so short,
4.12.18.5 |   And leaue his loue in that sea-walled fort.
4.12.18.6 |   Yet durst he not his mother disobay,
4.12.18.7 |   But her attending in full seemly sort,
4.12.18.8 |   Did march amongst the many all the way:
4.12.18.9 | And all the way did inly mourne, like one astray.

4.12.19.1 | Being returned to his mothers bowre,
4.12.19.2 |   In solitary silence far from wight,
4.12.19.3 |   He gan record the lamentable stowre,
4.12.19.4 |   In which his wretched loue lay day and night,
4.12.19.5 |   For his deare sake, that ill deseru'd that plight:
4.12.19.6 |   The thought whereof empierst his hart so deepe,
4.12.19.7 |   That of no worldly thing he tooke delight;
4.12.19.8 |   Ne dayly food did take, ne nightly sleepe,
4.12.19.9 | But pyn'd, and mourn'd, and languisht, and alone did weepe.

4.12.20.1 | That in short space his wonted chearefull hew
4.12.20.2 |   Gan fade, and liuely spirits deaded quight:
4.12.20.3 |   His cheeke bones raw, and eie-pits hollow grew,
4.12.20.4 |   And brawney armes had lost their knowen might,
4.12.20.5 |   That nothing like himselfe he seem'd in sight.
4.12.20.6 |   Ere long so weake of limbe, and sicke of loue
4.12.20.7 |   He woxe, that lenger he note stand vpright,
4.12.20.8 |   But to his bed was brought, and layd aboue,
4.12.20.9 | Like ruefull ghost, vnable once to stirre or moue.

4.12.21.1 | Which when his mother saw, she in her mind
4.12.21.2 |   Was troubled sore, ne wist well what to weene,
4.12.21.3 |   Ne could by search nor any meanes out find
4.12.21.4 |   The secret cause and nature of his teene,
4.12.21.5 |   Whereby she might apply some medicine;
4.12.21.6 |   But weeping day and night, did him attend,
4.12.21.7 |   And mourn'd to see her losse before her eyne,
4.12.21.8 |   Which grieu'd her more, that she it could not mend:
4.12.21.9 | To see an helpelesse euill, double griefe doth lend.

4.12.22.1 | Nought could she read the roote of his disease,
4.12.22.2 |   Ne weene what mister maladie it is,
4.12.22.3 |   Whereby to seeke some meanes it to appease.
4.12.22.4 |   Most did she thinke, but most she thought amis,
4.12.22.5 |   That that same former fatall wound of his
4.12.22.6 |   Whyleare by \Tryphon\ was not throughly healed,
4.12.22.7 |   But closely rankled vnder th'=orifis:
4.12.22.8 |   Least did she thinke, that which he most concealed,
4.12.22.9 | That loue it was, which in his hart lay vnreuealed.

4.12.23.1 | Therefore to \Tryphon\ she againe doth hast,
4.12.23.2 |   And him doth chyde as false and fraudulent,
4.12.23.3 |   That fayld the trust, which she in him had plast,
4.12.23.4 |   To cure her sonne, as he his faith had lent:
4.12.23.5 |   Who now was falne into new languishment
4.12.23.6 |   Of his old hurt, which was not throughly cured.
4.12.23.7 |   So backe he came vnto her patient,
4.12.23.8 |   Where searching euery part, her well assured,
4.12.23.9 | That it was no old sore, which his new paine procured.

4.12.24.1 | But that it was some other maladie,
4.12.24.2 |   Or griefe vnknowne, which he could not discerne:
4.12.24.3 |   So left he her withouten remedie.
4.12.24.4 |   Then gan her heart to faint, and quake, and earne,
4.12.24.5 |   And inly troubled was, the truth to learne.
4.12.24.6 |   Vnto himselfe she came, and him besought,
4.12.24.7 |   Now with faire speches, now with threatnings sterne,
4.12.24.8 |   If ought lay hidden in his grieued thought,
4.12.24.9 | It to reueale: who still her answered, there was nought.

4.12.25.1 | Nathlesse she rested not so satisfide,
4.12.25.2 |   But leauing watry gods, as booting nought,
4.12.25.3 |   Vnto the shinie heauen in haste she hide,
4.12.25.4 |   And thence \Apollo\ King of Leaches brought.
4.12.25.5 |   \Apollo\ came; who soone as he had sought
4.12.25.6 |   Through his disease, did by and by out find,
4.12.25.7 |   That he did languish of some inward thought,
4.12.25.8 |   The which afflicted his engrieued mind;
4.12.25.9 | Which loue he red to be, that leads each liuing kind.

4.12.26.1 | Which when he had vnto his mother told,
4.12.26.2 |   She gan thereat to fret, and greatly grieue.
4.12.26.3 |   And comming to her sonne, gan first to scold,
4.12.26.4 |   And chyde at him, that made her misbelieue:
4.12.26.5 |   But afterwards she gan him soft to shrieue,
4.12.26.6 |   And wooe with faire intreatie, to disclose,
4.12.26.7 |   Which of the Nymphes his heart so sore did mieue.
4.12.26.8 |   For sure she weend it was some one of those,
4.12.26.9 | Which he had lately seene, that for his loue he chose.

4.12.27.1 | Now lesse she feared that same fatall read,
4.12.27.2 |   That warned him of womens loue beware:
4.12.27.3 |   Which being ment of mortall creatures sead,
4.12.27.4 |   For loue of Nymphes she thought she need not care,
4.12.27.5 |   But promist him, what euer wight she weare,
4.12.27.6 |   That she her loue to him would shortly gaine:
4.12.27.7 |   So he her told: but soone as she did heare
4.12.27.8 |   That \Florimell\ it was, which wrought his paine,
4.12.27.9 | She gan a fresh to chafe, and grieue in euery vaine.

4.12.28.1 | Yet since she saw the streight extremitie,
4.12.28.2 |   In which his life vnluckily was layd,
4.12.28.3 |   It was no time to scan the prophecie,
4.12.28.4 |   Whether old \Proteus\ true or false had sayd,
4.12.28.5 |   That his decay should happen by a mayd.
4.12.28.6 |   It's late in death of daunger to aduize,
4.12.28.7 |   Or loue forbid him, that is life denayd:
4.12.28.8 |   But rather gan in troubled mind deuize,
4.12.28.9 | How she that Ladies libertie might enterprize.

4.12.29.1 | To \Proteus\ selfe to sew she thought it vaine,
4.12.29.2 |   Who was the root and worker of her woe:
4.12.29.3 |   Nor vnto any meaner to complaine,
4.12.29.4 |   But vnto great king \Neptune\ selfe did goe,
4.12.29.5 |   And on her knee before him falling lowe,
4.12.29.6 |   Made humble suit vnto his Maiestie,
4.12.29.7 |   To graunt to her, her sonnes life, which his foe
4.12.29.8 |   A cruell Tyrant had presumpteouslie
4.12.29.9 | By wicked doome condemn'd, a wretched death to die.

4.12.30.1 | To whom God \Neptune\ softly smyling, thus;
4.12.30.2 |   Daughter me seemes of double wrong ye plaine,
4.12.30.3 |   Gainst one that hath both wronged you, and vs:
4.12.30.4 |   For death t'=adward I ween'd did appertaine
4.12.30.5 |   To none, but to the seas sole Soueraine.
4.12.30.6 |   Read therefore who it is, which this hath wrought,
4.12.30.7 |   And for what cause; the truth discouer plaine.
4.12.30.8 |   For neuer wight so euill did or thought,
4.12.30.9 | But would some rightfull cause pretend, though rightly nought.

4.12.31.1 | To whom she answerd, Then it is by name
4.12.31.2 |   \Proteus\, that hath ordayn'd my sonne to die;
4.12.31.3 |   For that a waift, the which by fortune came
4.12.31.4 |   Vpon your seas, he claym'd as propertie:
4.12.31.5 |   And yet nor his, nor his in equitie,
4.12.31.6 |   But yours the waift by high prerogatiue.
4.12.31.7 |   Therefore I humbly craue your Maiestie,
4.12.31.8 |   It to repleuie, and my sonne repriue:
4.12.31.9 | So shall you by one gift saue all vs three aliue.

4.12.32.1 | He graunted it: and streight his warrant made,
4.12.32.2 |   Vnder the Sea-gods seale autenticall,
4.12.32.3 |   Commaunding \Proteus\ straight t'=enlarge the mayd,
4.12.32.4 |   Which wandring on his seas imperiall,
4.12.32.5 |   He lately tooke, and sithence kept as thrall.
4.12.32.6 |   Which she receiuing with meete thankefulnesse,
4.12.32.7 |   Departed straight to \Proteus\ therewithall:
4.12.32.8 |   Who reading it with inward loathfulnesse,
4.12.32.9 | Was grieued to restore the pledge, he did possesse.

4.12.33.1 | Yet durst he not the warrant to withstand,
4.12.33.2 |   But vnto her deliuered \Florimell\.
4.12.33.3 |   Whom she receiuing by the lilly hand,
4.12.33.4 |   Admyr'd her beautie much, as she mote well:
4.12.33.5 |   For she all liuing creatures did excell;
4.12.33.6 |   And was right ioyous, that she gotten had
4.12.33.7 |   So faire a wife for her sonne \Marinell\.
4.12.33.8 |   So home with her she streight the virgin lad,
4.12.33.9 | And shewed her to him, then being sore bestad.

4.12.34.1 | Who soone as he beheld that angels face,
4.12.34.2 |   Adorn'd with all diuine perfection,
4.12.34.3 |   His cleared heart eftsoones away gan chace
4.12.34.4 |   Sad death, reuiued with her sweet inspection,
4.12.34.5 |   And feeble spirit inly felt refection;
4.12.34.6 |   As withered weed through cruell winters tine,
4.12.34.7 |   That feeles the warmth of sunny beames reflection,
4.12.34.8 |   Liftes vp his head, that did before decline
4.12.34.9 | And gins to spread his leafe before the faire sunshine.

4.12.35.1 | Right so himselfe did \Marinell\ vpreare,
4.12.35.2 |   When he in place his dearest loue did spy;
4.12.35.3 |   And though his limbs could not his bodie beare,
4.12.35.4 |   Ne former strength returne so suddenly,
4.12.35.5 |   Yet chearefull signes he shewed outwardly.
4.12.35.6 |   Ne lesse was she in secret hart affected,
4.12.35.7 |   But that she masked it with modestie,
4.12.35.8 |   For feare she should of lightnesse be detected:
4.12.35.9 | Which to another place I leaue to be perfected.