6. t.  .1 | THE SIXTE
6. t.  .2 |   BOOKE OF THE
6. t.  .3 |   FAERIE QVEENE.
6. t.  .4 |   \Contayning\
6. t.  .5 | THE LEGEND OF S.  CALIDORE
6. t.  .6 |      \OR\
6. t.  .7 |   OF COVRTESIE.

6. p. 1.1 | The waies, through which my weary steps I guyde,
6. p. 1.2 |   In this delightfull land of Faery,
6. p. 1.3 |   Are so exceeding spacious and wyde,
6. p. 1.4 |   And sprinckled with such sweet variety,
6. p. 1.5 |   Of all that pleasant is to eare or eye,
6. p. 1.6 |   That I nigh rauisht with rare thoughts delight,
6. p. 1.7 |   My tedious trauell doe forget thereby;
6. p. 1.8 |   And when I gin to feele decay of might,
6. p. 1.9 | It strength to me supplies, and chears my dulled spright.

6. p. 2.1 | Such secret comfort, and such heauenly pleasures,
6. p. 2.2 |   Ye sacred imps, that on \Parnasso\ dwell,
6. p. 2.3 |   And there the keeping haue of learnings threasures,
6. p. 2.4 |   Which doe all worldly riches farre excell,
6. p. 2.5 |   Into the mindes of mortall men doe well,
6. p. 2.6 |   And goodly fury into them infuse;
6. p. 2.7 |   Guyde ye my footing, and conduct me well
6. p. 2.8 |   In these strange waies, where neuer foote did vse,
6. p. 2.9 | Ne none can find, but who was taught them by the Muse.

6. p. 3.1 | Reuele to me the sacred noursery
6. p. 3.2 |   Of vertue, which with you doth there remaine,
6. p. 3.3 |   Where it in siluer bowre does hidden ly
6. p. 3.4 |   From view of men, and wicked worlds disdaine.
6. p. 3.5 |   Since it at first was by the Gods with paine
6. p. 3.6 |   Planted in earth, being deriu'd at furst
6. p. 3.7 |   From heauenly seedes of bounty soueraine,
6. p. 3.8 |   And by them long with carefull labour nurst,
6. p. 3.9 | Till it to ripenesse grew, and forth to honour burst.

6. p. 4.1 | Amongst them all growes not a fayrer flowre,
6. p. 4.2 |   Then is the bloosme of comely courtesie,
6. p. 4.3 |   Which though it on a lowly stalke doe bowre,
6. p. 4.4 |   Yet brancheth forth in braue nobilitie,
6. p. 4.5 |   And spreds it selfe through all ciuilitie:
6. p. 4.6 |   Of which though present age doe plenteous seeme,
6. p. 4.7 |   Yet being matcht with plaine Antiquitie,
6. p. 4.8 |   Ye will them all but fayned showes esteeme,
6. p. 4.9 | Which carry colours faire, that feeble eies misdeeme.

6. p. 5.1 | But in the triall of true curtesie,
6. p. 5.2 |   Its now so farre from that, which then it was,
6. p. 5.3 |   That it indeed is nought but forgerie,
6. p. 5.4 |   Fashion'd to please the eies of them, that pas,
6. p. 5.5 |   Which see not perfect things but in a glas:
6. p. 5.6 |   Yet is that glasse so gay, that it can blynd
6. p. 5.7 |   The wisest sight, to thinke gold that is bras.
6. p. 5.8 |   But vertues seat is deepe within the mynd,
6. p. 5.9 | And not in outward shows, but inward thoughts defynd.

6. p. 6.1 | But where shall I in all Antiquity
6. p. 6.2 |   So faire a patterne finde, where may be seene
6. p. 6.3 |   The goodly praise of Princely curtesie,
6. p. 6.4 |   As in your selfe, O soueraine Lady Queene,
6. p. 6.5 |   In whose pure minde, as in a mirrour sheene,
6. p. 6.6 |   It showes, and with her brightnesse doth inflame
6. p. 6.7 |   The eyes of all, which thereon fixed beene;
6. p. 6.8 |   But meriteth indeede an higher name:
6. p. 6.9 | Yet so from low to high vplifted is your name.

6. p. 7.1 | Then pardon me, most dreaded Soueraine,
6. p. 7.2 |   That from your selfe I doe this vertue bring,
6. p. 7.3 |   And to your selfe doe it returne againe:
6. p. 7.4 |   So from the Ocean all riuers spring,
6. p. 7.5 |   And tribute backe repay as to their King.
6. p. 7.6 |   Right so from you all goodly vertues well
6. p. 7.7 |   Into the rest, which round about you ring,
6. p. 7.8 |   Faire Lords and Ladies, which about you dwell,
6. p. 7.9 | And doe adorne your Court, where courtesies excell.


6. 1. A.1 | \Calidore saues from Maleffort,\
6. 1. A.2 |   \A Damzell vsed vylde:\
6. 1. A.3 | \Doth vanquish Crudor, and doth make\
6. 1. A.4 |   \Briana wexe more mylde.\

6. 1. 1.1 | Of Court it seemes, men Courtesie doe call,
6. 1. 1.2 |   For that it there most vseth to abound;
6. 1. 1.3 |   And well beseemeth that in Princes hall
6. 1. 1.4 |   That vertue should be plentifully found,
6. 1. 1.5 |   Which of all goodly manners is the ground,
6. 1. 1.6 |   And roote of ciuill conuersation.
6. 1. 1.7 |   Right so in Faery court it did redound,
6. 1. 1.8 |   Where curteous Knights and Ladies most did won
6. 1. 1.9 | Of all on earth, and made a matchlesse paragon.

6. 1. 2.1 | But mongst them all was none more courteous Knight,
6. 1. 2.2 |   Then \Calidore\, beloued ouer all,
6. 1. 2.3 |   In whom it seemes, that gentlenesse of spright
6. 1. 2.4 |   And manners mylde were planted naturall;
6. 1. 2.5 |   To which he adding comely guize withall,
6. 1. 2.6 |   And gracious speach, did steale mens hearts away.
6. 1. 2.7 |   Nathlesse thereto he was full stout and tall,
6. 1. 2.8 |   And well approu'd in batteilous affray,
6. 1. 2.9 | That him did much renowme, and far his fame display.

6. 1. 3.1 | Ne was there Knight, ne was there Lady found
6. 1. 3.2 |   In Faery court, but him did deare embrace,
6. 1. 3.3 |   For his faire vsage and conditions sound,
6. 1. 3.4 |   The which in all mens liking gayned place,
6. 1. 3.5 |   And with the greatest purchast greatest grace:
6. 1. 3.6 |   Which he could wisely vse, and well apply,
6. 1. 3.7 |   To please the best, and th'=euill to embase.
6. 1. 3.8 |   For he loathd leasing, and base flattery,
6. 1. 3.9 | And loued simple truth and stedfast honesty.

6. 1. 4.1 | And now he was in trauell on his way,
6. 1. 4.2 |   Vppon an hard aduenture sore bestad,
6. 1. 4.3 |   Whenas by chaunce he met vppon a day
6. 1. 4.4 |   With \Artegall\, returning yet halfe sad
6. 1. 4.5 |   From his late conquest, which he gotten had.
6. 1. 4.6 |   Who whenas each of other had a sight,
6. 1. 4.7 |   They knew them selues, and both their persons rad:
6. 1. 4.8 |   When \Calidore\ thus first; Haile noblest Knight
6. 1. 4.9 | Of all this day on ground, that breathen liuing spright.

6. 1. 5.1 | Now tell, if please you, of the good successe,
6. 1. 5.2 |   Which ye haue had in your late enterprize.
6. 1. 5.3 |   To whom Sir \Artegall\ gan to expresse
6. 1. 5.4 |   His whole exploite, and valorous emprize,
6. 1. 5.5 |   In order as it did to him arize.
6. 1. 5.6 |   Now happy man (sayd then Sir \Calidore\)
6. 1. 5.7 |   Which haue so goodly, as ye can deuize,
6. 1. 5.8 |   Atchieu'd so hard a quest, as few before;
6. 1. 5.9 | That shall you most renowmed make for euermore.

6. 1. 6.1 | But where ye ended haue, now I begin
6. 1. 6.2 |   To tread an endlesse trace, withouten guyde,
6. 1. 6.3 |   Or good direction, how to enter in,
6. 1. 6.4 |   Or how to issue forth in waies vntryde,
6. 1. 6.5 |   In perils strange, in labours long and wide,
6. 1. 6.6 |   In which although good Fortune me befall,
6. 1. 6.7 |   Yet shall it not by none be testifyde.
6. 1. 6.8 |   What is that quest (quoth then Sir \Artegall\)
6. 1. 6.9 | That you into such perils presently doth call?

6. 1. 7.1 | The Blattant Beast (quoth he) I doe pursew,
6. 1. 7.2 |   And through the world incessantly doe chase,
6. 1. 7.3 |   Till I him ouertake, or else subdew:
6. 1. 7.4 |   Yet know I not or how, or in what place
6. 1. 7.5 |   To find him out, yet still I forward trace.
6. 1. 7.6 |   What is that Blattant Beast? (then he replide.)
6. 1. 7.7 |   It is a Monster bred of hellishe race,
6. 1. 7.8 |   (Then answerd he) which often hath annoyd
6. 1. 7.9 | Good Knights and Ladies true, and many else destroyd.

6. 1. 8.1 | Of \Cerberus\ whilome he was begot,
6. 1. 8.2 |   And fell \Chima+era\ in her darkesome den,
6. 1. 8.3 |   Through fowle commixture of his filthy blot;
6. 1. 8.4 |   Where he was fostred long in \Stygian\ fen,
6. 1. 8.5 |   Till he to perfect ripenesse grew, and then
6. 1. 8.6 |   Into this wicked world he forth was sent,
6. 1. 8.7 |   To be the plague and scourge of wretched men:
6. 1. 8.8 |   Whom with vile tongue and venemous intent
6. 1. 8.9 | He sore doth wound, and bite, and cruelly torment.

6. 1. 9.1 | Then since the saluage Island I did leaue,
6. 1. 9.2 |   Sayd \Artegall\, I such a Beast did see,
6. 1. 9.3 |   The which did seeme a thousand tongues to haue,
6. 1. 9.4 |   That all in spight and malice did agree,
6. 1. 9.5 |   With which he bayd and loudly barkt at mee,
6. 1. 9.6 |   As if that he attonce would me deuoure.
6. 1. 9.7 |   But I that knew my selfe from perill free,
6. 1. 9.8 |   Did nought regard his malice nor his powre,
6. 1. 9.9 | But he the more his wicked poyson forth did poure.

6. 1.10.1 | That surely is that Beast (saide \Calidore\)
6. 1.10.2 |   Which I pursue, of whom I am right glad
6. 1.10.3 |   To heare these tidings, which of none afore
6. 1.10.4 |   Through all my weary trauell I haue had:
6. 1.10.5 |   Yet now some hope your words vnto me add.
6. 1.10.6 |   Now God you speed (quoth then Sir \Artegall\)
6. 1.10.7 |   And keepe your body from the daunger drad:
6. 1.10.8 |   For ye haue much adoe to deale withall.
6. 1.10.9 | So both tooke goodly leaue, and parted seuerall.

6. 1.11.1 | Sir \Calidore\ thence trauelled not long,
6. 1.11.2 |   When as by chaunce a comely Squire he found,
6. 1.11.3 |   That thorough some more mighty enemies wrong,
6. 1.11.4 |   Both hand and foote vnto a tree was bound:
6. 1.11.5 |   Who seeing him from farre, with piteous sound
6. 1.11.6 |   Of his shrill cries him called to his aide.
6. 1.11.7 |   To whom approching, in that painefull stound
6. 1.11.8 |   When he him saw, for no demaunds he staide,
6. 1.11.9 | But first him losde, and afterwards thus to him saide.

6. 1.12.1 | Vnhappy Squire, what hard mishap thee brought
6. 1.12.2 |   Into this bay of perill and disgrace?
6. 1.12.3 |   What cruell hand thy wretched thraldome wrought,
6. 1.12.4 |   And thee captyued in this shamefull place?
6. 1.12.5 |   To whom he answerd thus; My haplesse case
6. 1.12.6 |   Is not occasiond through my misdesert,
6. 1.12.7 |   But through misfortune, which did me abase
6. 1.12.8 |   Vnto this shame, and my young hope subuert,
6. 1.12.9 | Ere that I in her guilefull traines was well expert.

6. 1.13.1 | Not farre from hence, vppon yond rocky hill,
6. 1.13.2 |   Hard by a streight there stands a castle strong,
6. 1.13.3 |   Which doth obserue a custome lewd and ill,
6. 1.13.4 |   And it hath long mayntaind with mighty wrong:
6. 1.13.5 |   For may no Knight nor Lady passe along
6. 1.13.6 |   That way, (and yet they needs must passe that way,)
6. 1.13.7 |   By reason of the streight, and rocks among,
6. 1.13.8 |   But they that Ladies lockes doe shaue away,
6. 1.13.9 | And that knights berd for toll, which they for passage pay.

6. 1.14.1 | A shamefull vse as euer I did heare,
6. 1.14.2 |   Sayd \Calidore\, and to be ouerthrowne.
6. 1.14.3 |   But by what meanes did they at first it reare,
6. 1.14.4 |   And for what cause, tell if thou haue it knowne.
6. 1.14.5 |   Sayd then that Squire: The Lady which doth owne
6. 1.14.6 |   This Castle, is by name \Briana\ hight.
6. 1.14.7 |   Then which a prouder Lady liueth none:
6. 1.14.8 |   She long time hath deare lou'd a doughty Knight,
6. 1.14.9 | And sought to win his loue by all the meanes she might.

6. 1.15.1 | His name is \Crudor\, who through high disdaine
6. 1.15.2 |   And proud despight of his selfe pleasing mynd,
6. 1.15.3 |   Refused hath to yeeld her loue againe,
6. 1.15.4 |   Vntill a Mantle she for him doe fynd,
6. 1.15.5 |   With beards of Knights and locks of Ladies lynd.
6. 1.15.6 |   Which to prouide, she hath this Castle dight,
6. 1.15.7 |   And therein hath a Seneschall assynd,
6. 1.15.8 |   Cald \Maleffort\, a man of mickle might,
6. 1.15.9 | Who executes her wicked will, with worse despight.

6. 1.16.1 | He this same day, as I that way did come
6. 1.16.2 |   With a faire Damzell, my beloued deare,
6. 1.16.3 |   In execution of her lawlesse doome,
6. 1.16.4 |   Did set vppon vs flying both for feare:
6. 1.16.5 |   For little bootes against him hand to reare.
6. 1.16.6 |   Me first he tooke, vnhable to withstond;
6. 1.16.7 |   And whiles he her pursued euery where,
6. 1.16.8 |   Till his returne vnto this tree he bond:
6. 1.16.9 | Ne wote I surely, whether her he yet haue fond.

6. 1.17.1 | Thus whiles they spake, they heard a ruefull shrieke
6. 1.17.2 |   Of one loud crying, which they streight way ghest,
6. 1.17.3 |   That it was she, the which for helpe did seeke.
6. 1.17.4 |   Tho looking vp vnto the cry to lest,
6. 1.17.5 |   They saw that Carle from farre, with hand vnblest
6. 1.17.6 |   Hayling that mayden by the yellow heare,
6. 1.17.7 |   That all her garments from her snowy brest,
6. 1.17.8 |   And from her head her lockes he nigh did teare,
6. 1.17.9 | Ne would he spare for pitty, nor refraine for feare.

6. 1.18.1 | Which haynous sight when \Calidore\ beheld,
6. 1.18.2 |   Eftsoones he loosd that Squire, and so him left,
6. 1.18.3 |   With hearts dismay and inward dolour queld,
6. 1.18.4 |   For to pursue that villaine, which had reft
6. 1.18.5 |   That piteous spoile by so iniurious theft.
6. 1.18.6 |   Whom ouertaking, loude to him he cryde;
6. 1.18.7 |   Leaue faytor quickely that misgotten weft
6. 1.18.8 |   To him, that hath it better iustifyde,
6. 1.18.9 | And turne thee soone to him, of whom thou art defyde.

6. 1.19.1 | Who hearkning to that voice, him selfe vpreard,
6. 1.19.2 |   And seeing him so fiercely towardes make,
6. 1.19.3 |   Against him stoutly ran, as nought afeard,
6. 1.19.4 |   But rather more enrag'd for those words sake;
6. 1.19.5 |   And with sterne count'naunce thus vnto him spake.
6. 1.19.6 |   Art thou the caytiue, that defyest me,
6. 1.19.7 |   And for this Mayd, whose party thou doest take,
6. 1.19.8 |   Wilt giue thy beard, though it but little bee?
6. 1.19.9 | Yet shall it not her lockes for raunsome fro me free.

6. 1.20.1 | With that he fiercely at him flew, and layd
6. 1.20.2 |   On hideous strokes with most importune might,
6. 1.20.3 |   That oft he made him stagger as vnstayd,
6. 1.20.4 |   And oft recuile to shunne his sharpe despight.
6. 1.20.5 |   But \Calidore\, that was well skild in fight,
6. 1.20.6 |   Him long forbore, and still his spirite spar'd,
6. 1.20.7 |   Lying in waite, how him he damadge might.
6. 1.20.8 |   But when he felt him shrinke, and come to ward,
6. 1.20.9 | He greater grew, and gan to driue at him more hard.

6. 1.21.1 | Like as a water streame, whose swelling sourse
6. 1.21.2 |   Shall driue a Mill, within strong bancks is pent,
6. 1.21.3 |   And long restrayned of his ready course;
6. 1.21.4 |   So soone as passage is vnto him lent,
6. 1.21.5 |   Breakes forth, and makes his way more violent.
6. 1.21.6 |   Such was the fury of Sir \Calidore\,
6. 1.21.7 |   When once he felt his foeman to relent;
6. 1.21.8 |   He fiercely him pursu'd, and pressed sore,
6. 1.21.9 | Who as he still decayd, so he encreased more.

6. 1.22.1 | The heauy burden of whose dreadfull might
6. 1.22.2 |   When as the Carle no longer could sustaine,
6. 1.22.3 |   His heart gan faint, and streight he tooke his flight
6. 1.22.4 |   Toward the Castle, where if need constraine,
6. 1.22.5 |   His hope of refuge vsed to remaine.
6. 1.22.6 |   Whom \Calidore\ perceiuing fast to flie,
6. 1.22.7 |   He him pursu'd and chaced through the plaine,
6. 1.22.8 |   That he for dread of death gan loude to crie
6. 1.22.9 | Vnto the ward, to open to him hastilie.

6. 1.23.1 | They from the wall him seeing so aghast,
6. 1.23.2 |   The gate soone opened to receiue him in,
6. 1.23.3 |   But \Calidore\ did follow him so fast,
6. 1.23.4 |   That euen in the Porch he him did win,
6. 1.23.5 |   And cleft his head asunder to his chin.
6. 1.23.6 |   The carkasse tumbling downe within the dore,
6. 1.23.7 |   Did choke the entraunce with a lumpe of sin,
6. 1.23.8 |   That it could not be shut, whilest \Calidore\
6. 1.23.9 | Did enter in, and slew the Porter on the flore.

6. 1.24.1 | With that the rest, the which the Castle kept,
6. 1.24.2 |   About him flockt, and hard at him did lay;
6. 1.24.3 |   But he them all from him full lightly swept,
6. 1.24.4 |   As doth a Steare, in heat of sommers day,
6. 1.24.5 |   With his long taile the bryzes brush away.
6. 1.24.6 |   Thence passing forth, into the hall he came,
6. 1.24.7 |   Where of the Lady selfe in sad dismay
6. 1.24.8 |   He was ymett, who with vncomely shame
6. 1.24.9 | Gan him salute, and fowle vpbrayd with faulty blame.

6. 1.25.1 | False traytor Knight, (sayd she) no Knight at all,
6. 1.25.2 |   But scorne of armes that hast with guilty hand
6. 1.25.3 |   Murdred my men, and slaine my Seneschall;
6. 1.25.4 |   Now comest thou to rob my house vnmand,
6. 1.25.5 |   And spoile my selfe, that can not thee withstand?
6. 1.25.6 |   Yet doubt thou not, but that some better Knight
6. 1.25.7 |   Then thou, that shall thy treason vnderstand,
6. 1.25.8 |   Will it auenge, and pay thee with thy right:
6. 1.25.9 | And if none do, yet shame shal thee with shame requight.

6. 1.26.1 | Much was the Knight abashed at that word;
6. 1.26.2 |   Yet answerd thus; Not vnto me the shame,
6. 1.26.3 |   But to the shamefull doer it afford.
6. 1.26.4 |   Bloud is no blemish; for it is no blame
6. 1.26.5 |   To punish those, that doe deserue the same;
6. 1.26.6 |   But they that breake bands of ciuilitie,
6. 1.26.7 |   And wicked customes make, those doe defame
6. 1.26.8 |   Both noble armes and gentle curtesie.
6. 1.26.9 | No greater shame to man then inhumanitie.

6. 1.27.1 | Then doe your selfe, for dread of shame, forgoe
6. 1.27.2 |   This euill manner, which ye here maintaine,
6. 1.27.3 |   And doe in stead thereof mild curt'sie showe
6. 1.27.4 |   To all, that passe. That shall you glory gaine
6. 1.27.5 |   More then his loue, which thus ye seeke t'=obtaine.
6. 1.27.6 |   Wherewith all full of wrath, she thus replyde;
6. 1.27.7 |   Vile recreant, know that I doe much disdaine
6. 1.27.8 |   Thy courteous lore, that doest my loue deride,
6. 1.27.9 | Who scornes thy ydle scoffe, and bids thee be defyde.

6. 1.28.1 | To take defiaunce at a Ladies word
6. 1.28.2 |   (Quoth he) I hold it no indignity;
6. 1.28.3 |   But were he here, that would it with his sword
6. 1.28.4 |   Abett, perhaps he mote it deare aby.
6. 1.28.5 |   Cowherd (quoth she) were not, that thou wouldst fly,
6. 1.28.6 |   Ere he doe come, he should be soone in place.
6. 1.28.7 |   If I doe so, (sayd he) then liberty
6. 1.28.8 |   I leaue to you, for aye me to disgrace
6. 1.28.9 | With all those shames, that erst ye spake me to deface.

6. 1.29.1 | With that a Dwarfe she cald to her in hast,
6. 1.29.2 |   And taking from her hand a ring of gould,
6. 1.29.3 |   A priuy token, which betweene them past,
6. 1.29.4 |   Bad him to flie with all the speed he could,
6. 1.29.5 |   To \Crudor\, and desire him that he would
6. 1.29.6 |   Vouchsafe to reskue her against a Knight,
6. 1.29.7 |   Who through strong powre had now her self in hould,
6. 1.29.8 |   Hauing late slaine her Seneschall in fight,
6. 1.29.9 | And all her people murdred with outragious might.

6. 1.30.1 | The Dwarfe his way did hast, and went all night;
6. 1.30.2 |   But \Calidore\ did with her there abyde
6. 1.30.3 |   The comming of that so much threatned Knight,
6. 1.30.4 |   Where that discourteous Dame with scornfull pryde,
6. 1.30.5 |   And fowle entreaty him indignifyde,
6. 1.30.6 |   That yron heart it hardly could sustaine:
6. 1.30.7 |   Yet he, that could his wrath full wisely guyde,
6. 1.30.8 |   Did well endure her womanish disdaine,
6. 1.30.9 | And did him selfe from fraile impatience refraine.

6. 1.31.1 | The morrow next, before the lampe of light
6. 1.31.2 |   Aboue the earth vpreard his flaming head,
6. 1.31.3 |   The Dwarfe, which bore that message to her knight,
6. 1.31.4 |   Brought aunswere backe, that ere he tasted bread,
6. 1.31.5 |   He would her succour, and aliue or dead
6. 1.31.6 |   Her foe deliuer vp into her hand:
6. 1.31.7 |   Therefore he wild her doe away all dread;
6. 1.31.8 |   And that of him she mote assured stand,
6. 1.31.9 | He sent to her his basenet, as a faithfull band.

6. 1.32.1 | Thereof full blyth the Lady streight became,
6. 1.32.2 |   And gan t'=augment her bitternesse much more:
6. 1.32.3 |   Yet no whit more appalled for the same,
6. 1.32.4 |   Ne ought dismayed was Sir \Calidore\,
6. 1.32.5 |   But rather did more chearefull seeme therefore.
6. 1.32.6 |   And hauing soone his armes about him dight,
6. 1.32.7 |   Did issue forth, to meete his foe afore;
6. 1.32.8 |   Where long he stayed not, when as a Knight
6. 1.32.9 | He spide come pricking on with al his powre and might.

6. 1.33.1 | Well weend he streight, that he should be the same,
6. 1.33.2 |   Which tooke in hand her quarrell to maintaine;
6. 1.33.3 |   Ne stayd to aske if it were he by name,
6. 1.33.4 |   But coucht his speare, and ran at him amaine.
6. 1.33.5 |   They bene ymett in middest of the plaine,
6. 1.33.6 |   With so fell fury, and dispiteous forse,
6. 1.33.7 |   That neither could the others stroke sustaine,
6. 1.33.8 |   But rudely rowld to ground both man and horse,
6. 1.33.9 | Neither of other taking pitty nor remorse.

6. 1.34.1 | But \Calidore\ vprose againe full light,
6. 1.34.2 |   Whiles yet his foe lay fast in sencelesse sound,
6. 1.34.3 |   Yet would he not him hurt, although he might:
6. 1.34.4 |   For shame he weend a sleeping wight to wound.
6. 1.34.5 |   But when \Briana\ saw that drery stound,
6. 1.34.6 |   There where she stood vppon the Castle wall,
6. 1.34.7 |   She deem'd him sure to haue bene dead on ground,
6. 1.34.8 |   And made such piteous mourning therewithall,
6. 1.34.9 | That from the battlements she ready seem'd to fall.

6. 1.35.1 | Nathlesse at length him selfe he did vpreare
6. 1.35.2 |   In lustlesse wise, as if against his will,
6. 1.35.3 |   Ere he had slept his fill, he wakened were,
6. 1.35.4 |   And gan to stretch his limbs; which feeling ill
6. 1.35.5 |   Of his late fall, a while he rested still:
6. 1.35.6 |   But when he saw his foe before in vew,
6. 1.35.7 |   He shooke off luskishnesse, and courage chill
6. 1.35.8 |   Kindling a fresh, gan battell to renew,
6. 1.35.9 | To proue if better foote then horsebacke would ensew.

6. 1.36.1 | There then began a fearefull cruell fray
6. 1.36.2 |   Betwixt them two, for maystery of might.
6. 1.36.3 |   For both were wondrous practicke in that play,
6. 1.36.4 |   And passing well expert in single fight,
6. 1.36.5 |   And both inflam'd with furious despight:
6. 1.36.6 |   Which as it still encreast, so still increast
6. 1.36.7 |   Their cruell strokes and terrible affright;
6. 1.36.8 |   Ne once for ruth their rigour they releast,
6. 1.36.9 | Ne once to breath a while their angers tempest ceast.

6. 1.37.1 | Thus long they trac'd and trauerst to and fro,
6. 1.37.2 |   And tryde all waies, how each mote entrance make
6. 1.37.3 |   Into the life of his malignant foe;
6. 1.37.4 |   They hew'd their helmes, and plates asunder brake,
6. 1.37.5 |   As they had potshares bene; for nought mote slake
6. 1.37.6 |   Their greedy vengeaunces, but goary blood,
6. 1.37.7 |   That at the last like to a purple lake
6. 1.37.8 |   Of bloudy gore congeal'd about them stood,
6. 1.37.9 | Which from their riuen sides forth gushed like a flood.

6. 1.38.1 | At length it chaunst, that both their hands on hie
6. 1.38.2 |   At once did heaue, with all their powre and might,
6. 1.38.3 |   Thinking the vtmost of their force to trie,
6. 1.38.4 |   And proue the finall fortune of the fight:
6. 1.38.5 |   But \Calidore\, that was more quicke of sight,
6. 1.38.6 |   And nimbler handed, then his enemie,
6. 1.38.7 |   Preuented him before his stroke could light,
6. 1.38.8 |   And on the helmet smote him formerlie,
6. 1.38.9 | That made him stoupe to ground with meeke humilitie.

6. 1.39.1 | And ere he could recouer foot againe,
6. 1.39.2 |   He following that faire aduantage fast,
6. 1.39.3 |   His stroke redoubled with such might and maine,
6. 1.39.4 |   That him vpon the ground he groueling cast;
6. 1.39.5 |   And leaping to him light, would haue vnlast
6. 1.39.6 |   His Helme, to make vnto his vengeance way.
6. 1.39.7 |   Who seeing, in what daunger he was plast,
6. 1.39.8 |   Cryde out, Ah mercie Sir, doe me not slay,
6. 1.39.9 | But saue my life, which lot before your foot doth lay.

6. 1.40.1 | With that his mortall hand a while he stayd,
6. 1.40.2 |   And hauing somewhat calm'd his wrathfull heat
6. 1.40.3 |   With goodly patience, thus he to him sayd;
6. 1.40.4 |   And is the boast of that proud Ladies threat,
6. 1.40.5 |   That menaced me from the field to beat,
6. 1.40.6 |   Now brought to this? By this now may ye learne,
6. 1.40.7 |   Strangers no more so rudely to intreat,
6. 1.40.8 |   But put away proud looke, and vsage sterne,
6. 1.40.9 | The which shal nought to you but foule dishonor yearne.

6. 1.41.1 | For nothing is more blamefull to a knight,
6. 1.41.2 |   That court'sie doth as well as armes professe,
6. 1.41.3 |   How euer strong and fortunate in fight,
6. 1.41.4 |   Then the reproch of pride and cruelnesse.
6. 1.41.5 |   In vaine he seeketh others to suppresse,
6. 1.41.6 |   Who hath not learnd him selfe first to subdew:
6. 1.41.7 |   All flesh is frayle, and full of ficklenesse,
6. 1.41.8 |   Subiect to fortunes chance, still chaunging new;
6. 1.41.9 | What haps to day to me, to morrow may to you.

6. 1.42.1 | Who will not mercie vnto others shew,
6. 1.42.2 |   How can he mercy euer hope to haue?
6. 1.42.3 |   To pay each with his owne is right and dew.
6. 1.42.4 |   Yet since ye mercie now doe need to craue,
6. 1.42.5 |   I will it graunt, your hopelesse life to saue;
6. 1.42.6 |   With these conditions, which I will propound:
6. 1.42.7 |   First, that ye better shall your selfe behaue
6. 1.42.8 |   Vnto all errant knights, whereso on ground;
6. 1.42.9 | Next that ye Ladies ayde in euery stead and stound.

6. 1.43.1 | The wretched man, that all this while did dwell
6. 1.43.2 |   In dread of death, his heasts did gladly heare,
6. 1.43.3 |   And promist to performe his precept well,
6. 1.43.4 |   And whatsoeuer else he would requere.
6. 1.43.5 |   So suffring him to rise, he made him sweare
6. 1.43.6 |   By his owne sword, and by the crosse thereon,
6. 1.43.7 |   To take \Briana\ for his louing fere,
6. 1.43.8 |   Withouten dowre or composition;
6. 1.43.9 | But to release his former foule condition.

6. 1.44.1 | All which accepting, and with faithfull oth
6. 1.44.2 |   Bynding himselfe most firmely to obay,
6. 1.44.3 |   He vp arose, how euer liefe or loth,
6. 1.44.4 |   And swore to him true fealtie for aye.
6. 1.44.5 |   Then forth he cald from sorrowfull dismay
6. 1.44.6 |   The sad \Briana\, which all this beheld:
6. 1.44.7 |   Who comming forth yet full of late affray,
6. 1.44.8 |   Sir \Calidore\ vpcheard, and to her teld
6. 1.44.9 | All this accord, to which he \Crudor\ had compeld.

6. 1.45.1 | Whereof she now more glad, then sory earst,
6. 1.45.2 |   All ouercome with infinite affect,
6. 1.45.3 |   For his exceeding courtesie, that pearst
6. 1.45.4 |   Her stubborne hart with inward deepe effect,
6. 1.45.5 |   Before his feet her selfe she did proiect,
6. 1.45.6 |   And him adoring as her liues deare Lord,
6. 1.45.7 |   With all due thankes, and dutifull respect,
6. 1.45.8 |   Her selfe acknowledg'd bound for that accord,
6. 1.45.9 | By which he had to her both life and loue restord.

6. 1.46.1 | So all returning to the Castle glad,
6. 1.46.2 |   Most ioyfully she them did entertaine,
6. 1.46.3 |   Where goodly glee and feast to them she made,
6. 1.46.4 |   To shew her thankefull mind and meaning faine,
6. 1.46.5 |   By all the meanes she mote it best explaine:
6. 1.46.6 |   And after all, vnto Sir \Calidore\
6. 1.46.7 |   She freely gaue that Castle for his paine,
6. 1.46.8 |   And her selfe bound to him for euermore;
6. 1.46.9 | So wondrously now chaung'd, from that she was afore.

6. 1.47.1 | But \Calidore\ himselfe would not retaine
6. 1.47.2 |   Nor land nor fee, for hyre of his good deede,
6. 1.47.3 |   But gaue them streight vnto that Squire againe,
6. 1.47.4 |   Whom from her Seneschall he lately freed,
6. 1.47.5 |   And to his damzell as their rightfull meed,
6. 1.47.6 |   For recompence of all their former wrong:
6. 1.47.7 |   There he remaind with them right well agreed,
6. 1.47.8 |   Till of his wounds he wexed hole and strong,
6. 1.47.9 | And then to his first quest he passed forth along.


6. 2. A.1 | \Calidore sees young Tristram slay\
6. 2. A.2 |   \A proud discourteous knight,\
6. 2. A.3 | \He makes him Squire, and of him learnes\
6. 2. A.4 |   \his state and present plight.\

6. 2. 1.1 | What vertue is so fitting for a knight,
6. 2. 1.2 |   Or for a Ladie, whom a knight should loue,
6. 2. 1.3 |   As Curtesie, to beare themselues aright
6. 2. 1.4 |   To all of each degree, as doth behoue?
6. 2. 1.5 |   For whether they be placed high aboue,
6. 2. 1.6 |   Or low beneath, yet ought they well to know
6. 2. 1.7 |   Their good, that none them rightly may reproue
6. 2. 1.8 |   Of rudenesse, for not yeelding what they owe:
6. 2. 1.9 | Great skill it is such duties timely to bestow.

6. 2. 2.1 | Thereto great helpe dame Nature selfe doth lend:
6. 2. 2.2 |   For some so goodly gratious are by kind,
6. 2. 2.3 |   That euery action doth them much commend,
6. 2. 2.4 |   And in the eyes of men great liking find;
6. 2. 2.5 |   Which others, that haue greater skill in mind,
6. 2. 2.6 |   Though they enforce themselues, cannot attaine.
6. 2. 2.7 |   For euerie thing, to which one is inclin'd,
6. 2. 2.8 |   Doth best become, and greatest grace doth gaine:
6. 2. 2.9 | Yet praise likewise deserue good thewes, enforst with paine.

6. 2. 3.1 | That well in courteous \Calidore\ appeares,
6. 2. 3.2 |   Whose euery deed and word, that he did say,
6. 2. 3.3 |   Was like enchantment, that through both the eyes,
6. 2. 3.4 |   And both the eares did steale the hart away.
6. 2. 3.5 |   He now againe is on his former way,
6. 2. 3.6 |   To follow his first quest, when as he spyde
6. 2. 3.7 |   A tall young man from thence not farre away,
6. 2. 3.8 |   Fighting on foot, as well he him descryde,
6. 2. 3.9 | Against an armed knight, that did on horsebacke ryde.

6. 2. 4.1 | And them beside a Ladie faire he saw,
6. 2. 4.2 |   Standing alone on foot, in foule array:
6. 2. 4.3 |   To whom himselfe he hastily did draw,
6. 2. 4.4 |   To weet the cause of so vncomely fray,
6. 2. 4.5 |   And to depart them, if so be he may.
6. 2. 4.6 |   But ere he came in place, that youth had kild
6. 2. 4.7 |   That armed knight, that low on ground he lay;
6. 2. 4.8 |   Which when he saw, his hart was inly child
6. 2. 4.9 | With great amazement, and his thought with wonder fild.

6. 2. 5.1 | Him stedfastly he markt, and saw to bee
6. 2. 5.2 |   A goodly youth of amiable grace,
6. 2. 5.3 |   Yet but a slender slip, that scarse did see
6. 2. 5.4 |   Yet seuenteene yeares, but tall and faire of face
6. 2. 5.5 |   That sure he deem'd him borne of noble race.
6. 2. 5.6 |   All in a woodmans iacket he was clad
6. 2. 5.7 |   Of Lincolne greene, belayd with siluer lace;
6. 2. 5.8 |   And on his head an hood with aglets sprad,
6. 2. 5.9 | And by his side his hunters horne he hanging had.

6. 2. 6.1 | Buskins he wore of costliest cordwayne,
6. 2. 6.2 |   Pinckt vpon gold, and paled part per part,
6. 2. 6.3 |   As then the guize was for each gentle swayne;
6. 2. 6.4 |   In his right hand he held a trembling dart,
6. 2. 6.5 |   Whose fellow he before had sent apart;
6. 2. 6.6 |   And in his left he held a sharpe borespeare,
6. 2. 6.7 |   With which he wont to launch the saluage hart
6. 2. 6.8 |   Of many a Lyon, and of many a Beare
6. 2. 6.9 | That first vnto his hand in chase did happen neare.

6. 2. 7.1 | Whom \Calidore\ a while well hauing vewed,
6. 2. 7.2 |   At length bespake; What meanes this, gentle swaine?
6. 2. 7.3 |   Why hath thy hand too bold it selfe embrewed
6. 2. 7.4 |   In blood of knight, the which by thee is slaine,
6. 2. 7.5 |   By thee no knight; which armes impugneth plaine?
6. 2. 7.6 |   Certes (said he) loth were I to haue broken
6. 2. 7.7 |   The law of armes; yet breake it should againe,
6. 2. 7.8 |   Rather then let my selfe of wight be stroken,
6. 2. 7.9 | So long as these two armes were able to be wroken.

6. 2. 8.1 | For not I him, as this his Ladie here
6. 2. 8.2 |   May witnesse well, did offer first to wrong,
6. 2. 8.3 |   Ne surely thus vnarm'd I likely were;
6. 2. 8.4 |   But he me first, through pride and puissance strong
6. 2. 8.5 |   Assayld, not knowing what to armes doth long.
6. 2. 8.6 |   Perdie great blame, (then said Sir \Calidore\)
6. 2. 8.7 |   For armed knight a wight vnarm'd to wrong.
6. 2. 8.8 |   But then aread, thou gentle chyld, wherefore
6. 2. 8.9 | Betwixt you two began this strife and sterne vprore.

6. 2. 9.1 | That shall I sooth (said he) to you declare.
6. 2. 9.2 |   I whose vnryper yeares are yet vnfit
6. 2. 9.3 |   For thing of weight, or worke of greater care,
6. 2. 9.4 |   Doe spend my dayes, and bend my carelesse wit
6. 2. 9.5 |   To saluage chace, where I thereon may hit
6. 2. 9.6 |   In all this forrest, and wyld wooddie raine:
6. 2. 9.7 |   Where, as this day I was enraunging it,
6. 2. 9.8 |   I chaunst to meete this knight, who there lyes slaine,
6. 2. 9.9 | Together with this Ladie, passing on the plaine.

6. 2.10.1 | The knight, as ye did see, on horsebacke was,
6. 2.10.2 |   And this his Ladie, (that him ill became,)
6. 2.10.3 |   On her faire feet by his horse side did pas
6. 2.10.4 |   Through thicke and thin, vnfit for any Dame.
6. 2.10.5 |   Yet not content, more to increase his shame,
6. 2.10.6 |   When so she lagged, as she needs mote so,
6. 2.10.7 |   He with his speare, that was to him great blame,
6. 2.10.8 |   Would thumpe her forward, and inforce to goe,
6. 2.10.9 | Weeping to him in vaine, and making piteous woe.

6. 2.11.1 | Which when I saw, as they me passed by,
6. 2.11.2 |   Much was I moued in indignant mind,
6. 2.11.3 |   And gan to blame him for such cruelty
6. 2.11.4 |   Towards a Ladie, whom with vsage kind
6. 2.11.5 |   He rather should haue taken vp behind.
6. 2.11.6 |   Wherewith he wroth, and full of proud disdaine,
6. 2.11.7 |   Tooke in foule scorne, that I such fault did find,
6. 2.11.8 |   And me in lieu thereof reuil'd againe,
6. 2.11.9 | Threatning to chastize me, as doth t'=a chyld pertaine.

6. 2.12.1 | Which I no lesse disdayning, backe returned
6. 2.12.2 |   His scornefull taunts vnto his teeth againe,
6. 2.12.3 |   That he streight way with haughtie choler burned,
6. 2.12.4 |   And with his speare strooke me one stroke or twaine;
6. 2.12.5 |   Which I enforst to beare though to my paine,
6. 2.12.6 |   Cast to requite, and with a slender dart,
6. 2.12.7 |   Fellow of this I beare, throwne not in vaine,
6. 2.12.8 |   Strooke him, as seemeth, vnderneath the hart,
6. 2.12.9 | That through the wound his spirit shortly did depart.

6. 2.13.1 | Much did Sir \Calidore\ admyre his speach
6. 2.13.2 |   Tempred so well, but more admyr'd the stroke
6. 2.13.3 |   That through the mayles had made so strong a breach
6. 2.13.4 |   Into his hart, and had so sternely wroke
6. 2.13.5 |   His wrath on him, that first occasion broke.
6. 2.13.6 |   Yet rested not, but further gan inquire
6. 2.13.7 |   Of that same Ladie, whether what he spoke,
6. 2.13.8 |   Were soothly so, and that th'=vnrighteous ire
6. 2.13.9 | Of her owne knight, had giuen him his owne due hire.

6. 2.14.1 | Of all which, when as she could nought deny,
6. 2.14.2 |   But cleard that stripling of th'=imputed blame,
6. 2.14.3 |   Sayd then Sir \Calidore\; Neither will I
6. 2.14.4 |   Him charge with guilt, but rather doe quite clame:
6. 2.14.5 |   For what he spake, for you he spake it, Dame:
6. 2.14.6 |   And what he did, he did him selfe to saue:
6. 2.14.7 |   Against both which that knight wrought knightlesse shame.
6. 2.14.8 |   For knights and all men this by nature haue,
6. 2.14.9 | Towards all womenkind them kindly to behaue.

6. 2.15.1 | But sith that he is gone irreuocable,
6. 2.15.2 |   Please it you Ladie, to vs to aread,
6. 2.15.3 |   What cause could make him so dishonourable,
6. 2.15.4 |   To driue you so on foot vnfit to tread,
6. 2.15.5 |   And lackey by him, gainst all womanhead?
6. 2.15.6 |   Certes Sir knight (sayd she) full loth I were
6. 2.15.7 |   To rayse a lyuing blame against the dead:
6. 2.15.8 |   But since it me concernes, my selfe to clere,
6. 2.15.9 | I will the truth discouer, as it chaunst whylere.

6. 2.16.1 | This day, as he and I together roade
6. 2.16.2 |   Vpon our way, to which we weren bent,
6. 2.16.3 |   We chaunst to come foreby a couert glade
6. 2.16.4 |   Within a wood, whereas a Ladie gent
6. 2.16.5 |   Sate with a knight in ioyous iolliment
6. 2.16.6 |   Of their franke loues, free from all gealous spyes:
6. 2.16.7 |   Faire was the Ladie sure, that mote content
6. 2.16.8 |   An hart, not carried with too curious eyes,
6. 2.16.9 | And vnto him did shew all louely courtesyes.

6. 2.17.1 | Whom when my knight did see so louely faire,
6. 2.17.2 |   He inly gan her louer to enuy,
6. 2.17.3 |   And wish, that he part of his spoyle might share.
6. 2.17.4 |   Whereto when as my presence he did spy
6. 2.17.5 |   To be a let, he bad me by and by
6. 2.17.6 |   For to alight: but when as I was loth,
6. 2.17.7 |   My loues owne part to leaue so suddenly,
6. 2.17.8 |   He with strong hand down from his steed me throw'th,
6. 2.17.9 | And with presumpteous powre against that knight streight go'th.

6. 2.18.1 | Vnarm'd all was the knight, as then more meete
6. 2.18.2 |   For Ladies seruice, and for loues delight,
6. 2.18.3 |   Then fearing any foeman there to meete:
6. 2.18.4 |   Whereof he taking oddes, streight bids him dight
6. 2.18.5 |   Himselfe to yeeld his loue, or else to fight.
6. 2.18.6 |   Whereat the other starting vp dismayd,
6. 2.18.7 |   Yet boldly answer'd, as he rightly might;
6. 2.18.8 |   To leaue his loue he should be ill apayd,
6. 2.18.9 | In which he had good right gaynst all, that it gainesayd.

6. 2.19.1 | Yet since he was not presently in plight
6. 2.19.2 |   Her to defend, or his to iustifie,
6. 2.19.3 |   He him requested, as he was a knight,
6. 2.19.4 |   To lend him day his better right to trie,
6. 2.19.5 |   Or stay till he his armes, which were thereby,
6. 2.19.6 |   Might lightly fetch. But he was fierce and whot,
6. 2.19.7 |   Ne time would giue, nor any termes aby,
6. 2.19.8 |   But at him flew, and with his speare him smot;
6. 2.19.9 | From which to thinke to saue himselfe, it booted not.

6. 2.20.1 | Meane while his Ladie, which this outrage saw,
6. 2.20.2 |   Whilest they together for the quarrey stroue,
6. 2.20.3 |   Into the couert did her selfe withdraw,
6. 2.20.4 |   And closely hid her selfe within the groue.
6. 2.20.5 |   My knight hers soone, as seemes, to daunger droue
6. 2.20.6 |   And left sore wounded: but when her he mist,
6. 2.20.7 |   He woxe halfe mad, and in that rage gan roue
6. 2.20.8 |   And range through all the wood, where so he wist
6. 2.20.9 | She hidden was, and sought her so long, as him list.

6. 2.21.1 | But when as her he by no meanes could find,
6. 2.21.2 |   After long search and chauff, he turned backe
6. 2.21.3 |   Vnto the place, where me he left behind:
6. 2.21.4 |   There gan he me to curse and ban, for lacke
6. 2.21.5 |   Of that faire bootie, and with bitter wracke
6. 2.21.6 |   To wreake on me the guilt of his owne wrong.
6. 2.21.7 |   Of all which I yet glad to beare the packe,
6. 2.21.8 |   Stroue to appease him, and perswaded long:
6. 2.21.9 | But still his passion grew more violent and strong.

6. 2.22.1 | Then as it were t'=auenge his wrath on mee,
6. 2.22.2 |   When forward we should fare, he flat refused
6. 2.22.3 |   To take me vp (as this young man did see)
6. 2.22.4 |   Vpon his steed, for no iust cause accused,
6. 2.22.5 |   But forst to trot on foot, and foule misused,
6. 2.22.6 |   Pounching me with the butt end of his speare,
6. 2.22.7 |   In vaine complayning, to be so abused.
6. 2.22.8 |   For he regarded neither playnt nor teare,
6. 2.22.9 | But more enforst my paine, the more my plaints to heare.

6. 2.23.1 | So passed we, till this young man vs met,
6. 2.23.2 |   And being moou'd with pittie of my plight,
6. 2.23.3 |   Spake, as was meet, for ease of my regret:
6. 2.23.4 |   Whereof befell, what now is in your sight.
6. 2.23.5 |   Now sure (then said Sir \Calidore\) and right
6. 2.23.6 |   Me seemes, that him befell by his owne fault:
6. 2.23.7 |   Who euer thinkes through confidence of might,
6. 2.23.8 |   Or through support of count'nance proud and hault
6. 2.23.9 | To wrong the weaker, oft falles in his owne assault.

6. 2.24.1 | Then turning backe vnto that gentle boy,
6. 2.24.2 |   Which had himselfe so stoutly well acquit;
6. 2.24.3 |   Seeing his face so louely sterne and coy,
6. 2.24.4 |   And hearing th'=answeres of his pregnant wit,
6. 2.24.5 |   He praysd it much, and much admyred it;
6. 2.24.6 |   That sure he weend him borne of noble blood,
6. 2.24.7 |   With whom those graces did so goodly fit:
6. 2.24.8 |   And when he long had him beholding stood,
6. 2.24.9 | He burst into these words, as to him seemed good.

6. 2.25.1 | Faire gentle swayne, and yet as stout as fayre,
6. 2.25.2 |   That in these woods amongst the Nymphs dost wonne,
6. 2.25.3 |   Which daily may to thy sweete lookes repayre,
6. 2.25.4 |   As they are wont vnto \Latonaes\ sonne,
6. 2.25.5 |   After his chace on woodie \Cynthus\ donne:
6. 2.25.6 |   Well may I certes such an one thee read,
6. 2.25.7 |   As by thy worth thou worthily hast wonne,
6. 2.25.8 |   Or surely borne of some Heroicke sead,
6. 2.25.9 | That in thy face appeares and gratious goodlyhead.

6. 2.26.1 | But should it not displease thee it to tell;
6. 2.26.2 |   (Vnlesse thou in these woods thy selfe conceale,
6. 2.26.3 |   For loue amongst the woodie Gods to dwell;)
6. 2.26.4 |   I would thy selfe require thee to reueale,
6. 2.26.5 |   For deare affection and vnfayned zeale,
6. 2.26.6 |   Which to thy noble personage I beare,
6. 2.26.7 |   And wish thee grow in worship and great weale.
6. 2.26.8 |   For since the day that armes I first did reare,
6. 2.26.9 | I neuer saw in any greater hope appeare.

6. 2.27.1 | To whom then thus the noble youth; May be
6. 2.27.2 |   Sir knight, that by discouering my estate,
6. 2.27.3 |   Harme may arise vnweeting vnto me;
6. 2.27.4 |   Nathelesse, sith ye so courteous seemed late,
6. 2.27.5 |   To you I will not feare it to relate.
6. 2.27.6 |   Then wote ye that I am a Briton borne,
6. 2.27.7 |   Sonne of a King, how euer thorough fate
6. 2.27.8 |   Or fortune I my countrie haue forlorne,
6. 2.27.9 | And lost the crowne, which should my head by right adorne.

6. 2.28.1 | And \Tristram\ is my name, the onely heire
6. 2.28.2 |   Of good king \Meliogras\ which did rayne
6. 2.28.3 |   In Cornewale, till that he through liues despeire
6. 2.28.4 |   Vntimely dyde, before I did attaine
6. 2.28.5 |   Ripe yeares of reason, my right to maintaine.
6. 2.28.6 |   After whose death, his brother seeing mee
6. 2.28.7 |   An infant, weake a kingdome to sustaine,
6. 2.28.8 |   Vpon him tooke the roiall high degree,
6. 2.28.9 | And sent me, where him list, instructed for to bee.

6. 2.29.1 | The widow Queene my mother, which then hight
6. 2.29.2 |   Faire \Emiline\, conceiuing then great feare
6. 2.29.3 |   Of my fraile safetie, resting in the might
6. 2.29.4 |   Of him, that did the kingly Scepter beare,
6. 2.29.5 |   Whose gealous dread induring not a peare,
6. 2.29.6 |   Is wont to cut off all, that doubt may breed,
6. 2.29.7 |   Thought best away me to remoue somewhere
6. 2.29.8 |   Into some forrein land, where as no need
6. 2.29.9 | Of dreaded daunger might his doubtfull humor feed.

6. 2.30.1 | So taking counsell of a wise man red,
6. 2.30.2 |   She was by him aduiz'd, to send me quight
6. 2.30.3 |   Out of the countrie, wherein I was bred,
6. 2.30.4 |   The which the fertile \Lionesse\ is hight,
6. 2.30.5 |   Into the land of \Faerie\, where no wight
6. 2.30.6 |   Should weet of me, nor worke me any wrong.
6. 2.30.7 |   To whose wise read she hearkning, sent me streight
6. 2.30.8 |   Into this land, where I haue wond thus long,
6. 2.30.9 | Since I was ten yeares old, now growen to stature strong.

6. 2.31.1 | All which my daies I haue not lewdly spent,
6. 2.31.2 |   Nor spilt the blossome of my tender yeares
6. 2.31.3 |   In ydlesse, but as was conuenient,
6. 2.31.4 |   Haue trayned bene with many noble feres
6. 2.31.5 |   In gentle thewes, and such like seemely leres.
6. 2.31.6 |   Mongst which my most delight hath alwaies been,
6. 2.31.7 |   To hunt the saluage chace amongst my peres,
6. 2.31.8 |   Of all that raungeth in the forrest greene;
6. 2.31.9 | Of which none is to me vnknowne, that eu'r was seene.

6. 2.32.1 | Ne is there hauke, which mantleth her on pearch,
6. 2.32.2 |   Whether high towring, or accoasting low,
6. 2.32.3 |   But I the measure of her flight doe search,
6. 2.32.4 |   And all her pray, and all her diet know.
6. 2.32.5 |   Such be our ioyes, which in these forrests grow:
6. 2.32.6 |   Onely the vse of armes, which most I ioy,
6. 2.32.7 |   And fitteth most for noble swayne to know,
6. 2.32.8 |   I haue not tasted yet, yet past a boy,
6. 2.32.9 | And being now high time these strong ioynts to imploy.

6. 2.33.1 | Therefore, good Sir, sith now occasion fit
6. 2.33.2 |   Doth fall, whose like hereafter seldome may,
6. 2.33.3 |   Let me this craue, vnworthy though of it,
6. 2.33.4 |   That ye will make me Squire without delay,
6. 2.33.5 |   That from henceforth in batteilous array
6. 2.33.6 |   I may beare armes, and learne to vse them right;
6. 2.33.7 |   The rather since that fortune hath this day
6. 2.33.8 |   Giuen to me the spoile of this dead knight,
6. 2.33.9 | These goodly gilden armes, which I haue won in fight.

6. 2.34.1 | All which when well Sir \Calidore\ had heard,
6. 2.34.2 |   Him much more now, then earst he gan admire,
6. 2.34.3 |   For the rare hope which in his yeares appear'd,
6. 2.34.4 |   And thus replide; Faire chyld, the high desire
6. 2.34.5 |   To loue of armes, which in you doth aspire,
6. 2.34.6 |   I may not certes without blame denie;
6. 2.34.7 |   But rather wish, that some more noble hire,
6. 2.34.8 |   (Though none more noble then is cheualrie,)
6. 2.34.9 | I had, you to reward with greater dignitie.

6. 2.35.1 | There him he causd to kneele, and made to sweare
6. 2.35.2 |   Faith to his knight, and truth to Ladies all,
6. 2.35.3 |   And neuer to be recreant, for feare
6. 2.35.4 |   Of perill, or of ought that might befall:
6. 2.35.5 |   So he him dubbed, and his Squire did call.
6. 2.35.6 |   Full glad and ioyous then young \Tristram\ grew,
6. 2.35.7 |   Like as a flowre, whose silken leaues small,
6. 2.35.8 |   Long shut vp in the bud from heauens vew,
6. 2.35.9 | At length breakes forth, and brode displayes his smyling hew.

6. 2.36.1 | Thus when they long had treated to and fro,
6. 2.36.2 |   And \Calidore\ betooke him to depart,
6. 2.36.3 |   Chyld \Tristram\ prayd, that he with him might goe
6. 2.36.4 |   On his aduenture, vowing not to start,
6. 2.36.5 |   But wayt on him in euery place and part.
6. 2.36.6 |   Whereat Sir \Calidore\ did much delight,
6. 2.36.7 |   And greatly ioy'd at his so noble hart,
6. 2.36.8 |   In hope he sure would proue a doughtie knight:
6. 2.36.9 | Yet for the time this answere he to him behight.

6. 2.37.1 | Glad would I surely be, thou courteous Squire,
6. 2.37.2 |   To haue thy presence in my present quest,
6. 2.37.3 |   That mote thy kindled courage set on fire,
6. 2.37.4 |   And flame forth honour in thy noble brest:
6. 2.37.5 |   But I am bound by vow, which I profest
6. 2.37.6 |   To my dread Soueraine, when I it assayd,
6. 2.37.7 |   That in atchieuement of her high behest,
6. 2.37.8 |   I should no creature ioyne vnto mine ayde,
6. 2.37.9 | For thy I may not graunt, that ye so greatly prayde.

6. 2.38.1 | But since this Ladie is all desolate,
6. 2.38.2 |   And needeth safegard now vpon her way,
6. 2.38.3 |   Ye may doe well in this her needfull state
6. 2.38.4 |   To succour her, from daunger of dismay;
6. 2.38.5 |   That thankfull guerdon may to you repay.
6. 2.38.6 |   The noble ympe of such new seruice fayne,
6. 2.38.7 |   It gladly did accept, as he did say.
6. 2.38.8 |   So taking courteous leaue, they parted twayne,
6. 2.38.9 | And \Calidore\ forth passed to his former payne.

6. 2.39.1 | But \Tristram\ then despoyling that dead knight
6. 2.39.2 |   Of all those goodly implements of prayse,
6. 2.39.3 |   Long fed his greedie eyes with the faire sight
6. 2.39.4 |   Of the bright mettall, shyning like Sunne rayes;
6. 2.39.5 |   Handling and turning them a thousand wayes.
6. 2.39.6 |   And after hauing them vpon him dight,
6. 2.39.7 |   He tooke that Ladie, and her vp did rayse
6. 2.39.8 |   Vpon the steed of her owne late dead knight,
6. 2.39.9 | So with her marched forth, as she did him behight.

6. 2.40.1 | There to their fortune leaue we them awhile,
6. 2.40.2 |   And turne we backe to good Sir \Calidore\;
6. 2.40.3 |   Who ere he thence had traueild many a mile,
6. 2.40.4 |   Came to the place, whereas ye heard afore
6. 2.40.5 |   This knight, whom \Tristram\ slew, had wounded sore
6. 2.40.6 |   Another knight in his despiteous pryde;
6. 2.40.7 |   There he that knight found lying on the flore,
6. 2.40.8 |   With many wounds full perilous and wyde,
6. 2.40.9 | That all his garments, and the grasse in vermeill dyde.

6. 2.41.1 | And there beside him sate vpon the ground
6. 2.41.2 |   His wofull Ladie, piteously complayning
6. 2.41.3 |   With loud laments that most vnluckie stound,
6. 2.41.4 |   And her sad selfe with carefull hand constrayning
6. 2.41.5 |   To wype his wounds, and ease their bitter payning.
6. 2.41.6 |   Which sorie sight when \Calidore\ did vew
6. 2.41.7 |   With heauie eyne, from teares vneath refrayning,
6. 2.41.8 |   His mightie hart their mournefull case can rew,
6. 2.41.9 | And for their better comfort to them nigher drew.

6. 2.42.1 | Then speaking to the Ladie, thus he sayd:
6. 2.42.2 |   Ye dolefull Dame, let not your griefe empeach
6. 2.42.3 |   To tell, what cruell hand hath thus arayd
6. 2.42.4 |   This knight vnarm'd, with so vnknightly breach
6. 2.42.5 |   Of armes, that if I yet him nigh may reach,
6. 2.42.6 |   I may auenge him of so foule despight.
6. 2.42.7 |   The Ladie hearing his so courteous speach,
6. 2.42.8 |   Gan reare her eyes as to the chearefull light,
6. 2.42.9 | And from her sory hart few heauie words forth sight.

6. 2.43.1 | In which she shew'd, how that discourteous knight
6. 2.43.2 |   (Whom \Tristram\ slew) them in that shadow found,
6. 2.43.3 |   Ioying together in vnblam'd delight,
6. 2.43.4 |   And him vnarm'd, as now he lay on ground,
6. 2.43.5 |   Charg'd with his speare and mortally did wound,
6. 2.43.6 |   Withouten cause, but onely her to reaue
6. 2.43.7 |   From him, to whom she was for euer bound:
6. 2.43.8 |   Yet when she fled into that couert greaue,
6. 2.43.9 | He her not finding, both them thus nigh dead did leaue.

6. 2.43.1 | When \Calidore\ this ruefull storie had
6. 2.43.2 |   Well vnderstood, he gan of her demand,
6. 2.43.3 |   What manner wight he was, and how yclad,
6. 2.43.4 |   Which had this outrage wrought with wicked hand.
6. 2.43.5 |   She then, like as she best could vnderstand,
6. 2.43.6 |   Him thus describ'd, to be of stature large,
6. 2.43.7 |   Clad all in gilden armes, with azure band
6. 2.43.8 |   Quartred athwart, and bearing in his targe
6. 2.43.9 | A Ladie on rough waues, row'd in a sommer barge.

6. 2.45.1 | Then gan Sir \Calidore\ to ghesse streight way
6. 2.45.2 |   By many signes, which she described had,
6. 2.45.3 |   That this was he, whom \Tristram\ earst did slay,
6. 2.45.4 |   And to her said; Dame be no longer sad:
6. 2.45.5 |   For he, that hath your Knight so ill bestad,
6. 2.45.6 |   Is now him selfe in much more wretched plight;
6. 2.45.7 |   These eyes him saw vpon the cold earth sprad,
6. 2.45.8 |   The meede of his desert for that despight,
6. 2.45.9 | Which to your selfe he wrought, and to your loued knight.

6. 2.46.1 | Therefore faire Lady lay aside this griefe,
6. 2.46.2 |   Which ye haue gathered to your gentle hart,
6. 2.46.3 |   For that displeasure; and thinke what reliefe
6. 2.46.4 |   Were best deuise for this your louers smart,
6. 2.46.5 |   And how ye may him hence, and to what part
6. 2.46.6 |   Conuay to be recur'd. She thankt him deare,
6. 2.46.7 |   Both for that newes he did to her impart,
6. 2.46.8 |   And for the courteous care, which he did beare
6. 2.46.9 | Both to her loue, and to her selfe in that sad dreare.

6. 2.47.1 | Yet could she not deuise by any wit,
6. 2.47.2 |   How thence she might conuay him to some place.
6. 2.47.3 |   For him to trouble she it thought vnfit,
6. 2.47.4 |   That was a straunger to her wretched case;
6. 2.47.5 |   And him to beare, she thought it thing too base.
6. 2.47.6 |   Which when as he perceiu'd, he thus bespake;
6. 2.47.7 |   Faire Lady let it not you seeme disgrace,
6. 2.47.8 |   To beare this burden on your dainty backe;
6. 2.47.9 | My selfe will beare a part, coportion of your packe.

6. 2.48.1 | So off he did his shield, and downeward layd
6. 2.48.2 |   Vpon the ground, like to an hollow beare;
6. 2.48.3 |   And powring balme, which he had long puruayd,
6. 2.48.4 |   Into his wounds, him vp thereon did reare,
6. 2.48.5 |   And twixt them both with parted paines did beare,
6. 2.48.6 |   Twixt life and death, not knowing what was donne.
6. 2.48.7 |   Thence they him carried to a Castle neare,
6. 2.48.8 |   In which a worthy auncient Knight did wonne:
6. 2.48.9 | Where what ensu'd, shall in next Canto be begonne.


6. 3. A.1 | \Calidore brings Priscilla home,\
6. 3. A.2 |   \Pursues the Blatant Beast:\
6. 3. A.3 | \Saues Serena whilest Calepine\
6. 3. A.4 |   \By Turpine is opprest.\

6. 3. 1.1 | True is, that whilome that good Poet sayd,
6. 3. 1.2 |   The gentle minde by gentle deeds is knowne.
6. 3. 1.3 |   For a man by nothing is so well bewrayd,
6. 3. 1.4 |   As by his manners, in which plaine is showne
6. 3. 1.5 |   Of what degree and what race he is growne.
6. 3. 1.6 |   For seldome seene, a trotting Stalion get
6. 3. 1.7 |   An ambling Colt, that is his proper owne:
6. 3. 1.8 |   So seldome seene, that one in basenesse set
6. 3. 1.9 | Doth noble courage shew, with curteous manners met.

6. 3. 2.1 | But euermore contrary hath bene tryde,
6. 3. 2.2 |   That gentle bloud will gentle manners breed;
6. 3. 2.3 |   As well may be in \Calidore\ descryde,
6. 3. 2.4 |   By late ensample of that courteous deed,
6. 3. 2.5 |   Done to that wounded Knight in his great need,
6. 3. 2.6 |   Whom on his backe he bore, till he him brought
6. 3. 2.7 |   Vnto the Castle where they had decreed.
6. 3. 2.8 |   There of the Knight, the which that Castle ought,
6. 3. 2.9 | To make abode that night he greatly was besought.

6. 3. 3.1 | He was to weete a man of full ripe yeares,
6. 3. 3.2 |   That in his youth had beene of mickle might,
6. 3. 3.3 |   And borne great sway in armes amongst his peares:
6. 3. 3.4 |   But now weake age had dimd his candle light.
6. 3. 3.5 |   Yet was he courteous still to euery wight,
6. 3. 3.6 |   And loued all that did to armes incline,
6. 3. 3.7 |   And was the father of that wounded Knight,
6. 3. 3.8 |   Whom \Calidore\ thus carried on his chine,
6. 3. 3.9 | And \Aldus\ was his name, and his sonnes \Aladine\.

6. 3. 4.1 | Who when he saw his sonne so ill bedight,
6. 3. 4.2 |   With bleeding wounds, brought home vpon a Beare,
6. 3. 4.3 |   By a faire Lady, and a straunger Knight,
6. 3. 4.4 |   Was inly touched with compassion deare,
6. 3. 4.5 |   And deare affection of so dolefull dreare,
6. 3. 4.6 |   That he these words burst forth; Ah sory boy,
6. 3. 4.7 |   Is this the hope that to my hoary heare
6. 3. 4.8 |   Thou brings? aie me, is this the timely ioy,
6. 3. 4.9 | Which I expected long, now turnd to sad annoy?

6. 3. 5.1 | Such is the weakenesse of all mortall hope;
6. 3. 5.2 |   So tickle is the state of earthly things,
6. 3. 5.3 |   That ere they come vnto their aymed scope,
6. 3. 5.4 |   They fall too short of our fraile reckonings,
6. 3. 5.5 |   And bring vs bale and bitter sorrowings,
6. 3. 5.6 |   In stead of comfort, which we should embrace:
6. 3. 5.7 |   This is the state of Keasars and of Kings.
6. 3. 5.8 |   Let none therefore, that is in meaner place,
6. 3. 5.9 | Too greatly grieue at any his vnlucky case.

6. 3. 6.1 | So well and wisely did that good old Knight
6. 3. 6.2 |   Temper his griefe, and turned it to cheare,
6. 3. 6.3 |   To cheare his guests, whom he had stayd that night,
6. 3. 6.4 |   And make their welcome to them well appeare:
6. 3. 6.5 |   That to Sir \Calidore\ was easie geare;
6. 3. 6.6 |   But that faire Lady would be cheard for nought,
6. 3. 6.7 |   But sigh'd and sorrow'd for her louer deare,
6. 3. 6.8 |   And inly did afflict her pensiue thought,
6. 3. 6.9 | With thinking to what case her name should now be brought.

6. 3. 7.1 | For she was daughter to a noble Lord,
6. 3. 7.2 |   Which dwelt thereby, who sought her to affy
6. 3. 7.3 |   To a great pere; but she did disaccord,
6. 3. 7.4 |   Ne could her liking to his loue apply,
6. 3. 7.5 |   But lou'd this fresh young Knight, who dwelt her ny,
6. 3. 7.6 |   The lusty \Aladine\, though meaner borne,
6. 3. 7.7 |   And of lesse liuelood and hability,
6. 3. 7.8 |   Yet full of valour, the which did adorne
6. 3. 7.9 | His meanesse much, and make her th'=others riches scorne.

6. 3. 8.1 | So hauing both found fit occasion,
6. 3. 8.2 |   They met together in that luckelesse glade;
6. 3. 8.3 |   Where that proud Knight in his presumption
6. 3. 8.4 |   The gentle \Aladine\ did earst inuade,
6. 3. 8.5 |   Being vnarm'd, and set in secret shade.
6. 3. 8.6 |   Whereof she now bethinking, gan t'=aduize,
6. 3. 8.7 |   How great a hazard she at earst had made
6. 3. 8.8 |   Of her good fame, and further gan deuize,
6. 3. 8.9 | How she the blame might salue with coloured disguize.

6. 3. 9.1 | But \Calidore\ with all good courtesie
6. 3. 9.2 |   Fain'd her to frolicke, and to put away
6. 3. 9.3 |   The pensiue fit of her melancholie;
6. 3. 9.4 |   And that old Knight by all meanes did assay,
6. 3. 9.5 |   To make them both as merry as he may.
6. 3. 9.6 |   So they the euening past, till time of rest,
6. 3. 9.7 |   When \Calidore\ in seemly good array
6. 3. 9.8 |   Vnto his bowre was brought, and there vndrest,
6. 3. 9.9 | Did sleepe all night through weary trauell of his quest.

6. 3.10.1 | But faire \Priscilla\ (so that Lady hight)
6. 3.10.2 |   Would to no bed, nor take no kindely sleepe,
6. 3.10.3 |   But by her wounded loue did watch all night,
6. 3.10.4 |   And all the night for bitter anguish weepe,
6. 3.10.5 |   And with her teares his wounds did wash and steepe.
6. 3.10.6 |   So well she washt them, and so well she wacht him,
6. 3.10.7 |   That of the deadly swound, in which full deepe
6. 3.10.8 |   He drenched was, she at the length dispacht him,
6. 3.10.9 | And droue away the stound, which mortally attacht him.

6. 3.11.1 | The morrow next, when day gan to vplooke,
6. 3.11.2 |   He also gan vplooke with drery eye,
6. 3.11.3 |   Like one that out of deadly dreame awooke:
6. 3.11.4 |   Where when he saw his faire \Priscilla\ by,
6. 3.11.5 |   He deepely sigh'd, and groaned inwardly,
6. 3.11.6 |   To thinke of this ill state, in which she stood,
6. 3.11.7 |   To which she for his sake had weetingly
6. 3.11.8 |   Now brought her selfe, and blam'd her noble blood:
6. 3.11.9 | For first, next after life, he tendered her good.

6. 3.12.1 | Which she perceiuing, did with plenteous teares
6. 3.12.2 |   His care more then her owne compassionate,
6. 3.12.3 |   Forgetfull of her owne, to minde his feares:
6. 3.12.4 |   So both conspiring, gan to intimate
6. 3.12.5 |   Each others griefe with zeale affectionate,
6. 3.12.6 |   And twixt them twaine with equall care to cast,
6. 3.12.7 |   How to saue whole her hazarded estate;
6. 3.12.8 |   For which the onely helpe now left them last
6. 3.12.9 | Seem'd to be \Calidore\: all other helpes were past.

6. 3.13.1 | Him they did deeme, as sure to them he seemed,
6. 3.13.2 |   A courteous Knight, and full of faithfull trust:
6. 3.13.3 |   Therefore to him their cause they best esteemed
6. 3.13.4 |   Whole to commit, and to his dealing iust.
6. 3.13.5 |   Earely, so soone as \Titans\ beames forth brust
6. 3.13.6 |   Through the thicke clouds, in which they steeped lay
6. 3.13.7 |   All night in darkenesse, duld with yron rust,
6. 3.13.8 |   \Calidore\ rising vp as fresh as day,
6. 3.13.9 | Gan freshly him addresse vnto his former way.

6. 3.14.1 | But first him seemed fit, that wounded Knight
6. 3.14.2 |   To visite, after this nights perillous passe,
6. 3.14.3 |   And to salute him, if he were in plight,
6. 3.14.4 |   And eke that Lady his faire louely lasse.
6. 3.14.5 |   There he him found much better then he was,
6. 3.14.6 |   And moued speach to him of things of course,
6. 3.14.7 |   The anguish of his paine to ouerpasse:
6. 3.14.8 |   Mongst which he namely did to him discourse,
6. 3.14.9 | Of former daies mishap, his sorrowes wicked sourse.

6. 3.15.1 | Of which occasion \Aldine\ taking hold,
6. 3.15.2 |   Gan breake to him the fortunes of his loue,
6. 3.15.3 |   And all his disaduentures to vnfold;
6. 3.15.4 |   That \Calidore\ it dearly deepe did moue.
6. 3.15.5 |   In th'=end his kyndly courtesie to proue,
6. 3.15.6 |   He him by all the bands of loue besought,
6. 3.15.7 |   And as it mote a faithfull friend behoue,
6. 3.15.8 |   To safeconduct his loue, and not for ought
6. 3.15.9 | To leaue, till to her fathers house he had her brought.

6. 3.16.1 | Sir \Calidore\ his faith thereto did plight,
6. 3.16.2 |   It to performe: so after little stay,
6. 3.16.3 |   That she her selfe had to the iourney dight,
6. 3.16.4 |   He passed forth with her in faire array,
6. 3.16.5 |   Fearelesse, who ought did thinke, or ought did say,
6. 3.16.6 |   Sith his own thought he knew most cleare from wite.
6. 3.16.7 |   So as they past together on their way,
6. 3.16.8 |   He can deuize this counter-cast of slight,
6. 3.16.9 | To giue faire colour to that Ladies cause in sight.

6. 3.17.1 | Streight to the carkasse of that Knight he went,
6. 3.17.2 |   The cause of all this euill, who was slaine
6. 3.17.3 |   The day before by iust auengement
6. 3.17.4 |   Of noble \Tristram\, where it did remaine:
6. 3.17.5 |   There he the necke thereof did cut in twaine,
6. 3.17.6 |   And tooke with him the head, the signe of shame.
6. 3.17.7 |   So forth he passed thorough that daies paine,
6. 3.17.8 |   Till to that Ladies fathers house he came,
6. 3.17.9 | Most pensiue man, through feare, what of his childe became.

6. 3.18.1 | There he arriuing boldly, did present
6. 3.18.2 |   The fearefull Lady to her father deare,
6. 3.18.3 |   Most perfect pure, and guiltlesse innocent
6. 3.18.4 |   Of blame, as he did on his Knighthood sweare,
6. 3.18.5 |   Since first he saw her, and did free from feare
6. 3.18.6 |   Of a discourteous Knight, who her had reft,
6. 3.18.7 |   And by outragious force away did beare:
6. 3.18.8 |   Witnesse thereof he shew'd his head there left,
6. 3.18.9 | And wretched life forlorne for vengement of his theft.

6. 3.19.1 | Most ioyfull man her sire was her to see,
6. 3.19.2 |   And heare th'=aduenture of her late mischaunce;
6. 3.19.3 |   And thousand thankes to \Calidore\ for fee
6. 3.19.4 |   Of his large paines in her deliueraunce
6. 3.19.5 |   Did yeeld; Ne lesse the Lady did aduaunce.
6. 3.19.6 |   Thus hauing her restored trustily,
6. 3.19.7 |   As he had vow'd, some small continuaunce
6. 3.19.8 |   He there did make, and then most carefully
6. 3.19.9 | Vnto his first exploite he did him selfe apply.

6. 3.20.1 | So as he was pursuing of his quest
6. 3.20.2 |   He chaunst to come whereas a iolly Knight,
6. 3.20.3 |   In couert shade him selfe did safely rest,
6. 3.20.4 |   To solace with his Lady in delight:
6. 3.20.5 |   His warlike armes he had from him vndight:
6. 3.20.6 |   For that him selfe he thought from daunger free,
6. 3.20.7 |   And far from enuious eyes that mote him spight.
6. 3.20.8 |   And eke the Lady was full faire to see,
6. 3.20.9 | And courteous withall, becomming her degree.

6. 3.21.1 | To whom Sir \Calidore\ approaching nye,
6. 3.21.2 |   Ere they were well aware of liuing wight,
6. 3.21.3 |   Them much abasht, but more him selfe thereby,
6. 3.21.4 |   That he so rudely did vppon them light,
6. 3.21.5 |   And troubled had their quiet loues delight.
6. 3.21.6 |   Yet since it was his fortune, not his fault,
6. 3.21.7 |   Him selfe thereof he labour'd to acquite,
6. 3.21.8 |   And pardon crau'd for his so rash default,
6. 3.21.9 | That he gainst courtesie so fowly did default.

6. 3.22.1 | With which his gentle words and goodly wit
6. 3.22.2 |   He soone allayd that Knights conceiu'd displeasure,
6. 3.22.3 |   That he besought him downe by him to sit,
6. 3.22.4 |   That they mote treat of things abrode at leasure;
6. 3.22.5 |   And of aduentures, which had in his measure
6. 3.22.6 |   Of so long waies to him befallen late.
6. 3.22.7 |   So downe he sate, and with delightfull pleasure
6. 3.22.8 |   His long aduentures gan to him relate,
6. 3.22.9 | Which he endured had through daungerous debate.

6. 3.23.1 | Of which whilest they discoursed both together,
6. 3.23.2 |   The faire \Serena\ (so his Lady hight)
6. 3.23.3 |   Allur'd with myldnesse of the gentle wether,
6. 3.23.4 |   And pleasaunce of the place, the which was dight
6. 3.23.5 |   With diuers flowres distinct with rare delight,
6. 3.23.6 |   Wandred about the fields, as liking led
6. 3.23.7 |   Her wauering lust after her wandring sight,
6. 3.23.8 |   To make a garland to adorne her hed,
6. 3.23.9 | Without suspect of ill or daungers hidden dred.

6. 3.24.1 | All sodainely out of the forrest nere
6. 3.24.2 |   The Blatant Beast forth rushing vnaware,
6. 3.24.3 |   Caught her thus loosely wandring here and there,
6. 3.24.4 |   And in his wide great mouth away her bare,
6. 3.24.5 |   Crying aloud in vaine, to shew her sad misfare
6. 3.24.6 |   Vnto the Knights, and calling oft for ayde,
6. 3.24.7 |   Who with the horrour of her haplesse care
6. 3.24.8 |   Hastily starting vp, like men dismayde,
6. 3.24.9 | Ran after fast to reskue the distressed mayde.

6. 3.25.1 | The Beast with their pursuit incited more,
6. 3.25.2 |   Into the wood was bearing her apace
6. 3.25.3 |   For to haue spoyled her, when \Calidore\
6. 3.25.4 |   Who was more light of foote and swift in chace,
6. 3.25.5 |   Him ouertooke in middest of his race:
6. 3.25.6 |   And fiercely charging him with all his might,
6. 3.25.7 |   Forst to forgoe his pray there in the place,
6. 3.25.8 |   And to betake him selfe to fearefull flight;
6. 3.25.9 | For he durst not abide with \Calidore\ to fight.

6. 3.26.1 | Who nathelesse, when he the Lady saw
6. 3.26.2 |   There left on ground, though in full euill plight,
6. 3.26.3 |   Yet knowing that her Knight now neare did draw,
6. 3.26.4 |   Staide not to succour her in that affright,
6. 3.26.5 |   But follow'd fast the Monster in his flight:
6. 3.26.6 |   Through woods and hils he follow'd him so fast,
6. 3.26.7 |   That he nould let him breath nor gather spright,
6. 3.26.8 |   But forst him gape and gaspe, with dread aghast,
6. 3.26.9 | As if his lungs and lites were nigh a sunder brast.

6. 3.27.1 | And now by this Sir \Calepine\, so hight,
6. 3.27.2 |   Came to the place, where he his Lady found
6. 3.27.3 |   In dolorous dismay and deadly plight,
6. 3.27.4 |   All in gore bloud there tumbled on the ground,
6. 3.27.5 |   Hauing both sides through grypt with griesly wound.
6. 3.27.6 |   His weapons soone from him he threw away,
6. 3.27.7 |   And stouping downe to her in drery swound,
6. 3.27.8 |   Vprear'd her from the ground whereon she lay,
6. 3.27.9 | And in his tender armes her forced vp to stay.

6. 3.28.1 | So well he did his busie paines apply,
6. 3.28.2 |   That the faint sprite he did reuoke againe,
6. 3.28.3 |   To her fraile mansion of mortality.
6. 3.28.4 |   Then vp he tooke her twixt his armes twaine,
6. 3.28.5 |   And setting on his steede, her did sustaine
6. 3.28.6 |   With carefull hands soft footing her beside,
6. 3.28.7 |   Till to some place of rest they mote attaine,
6. 3.28.8 |   Where she in safe assuraunce mote abide,
6. 3.28.9 | Till she recured were of those her woundes wide.

6. 3.29.1 | Now when as \Pho+ebus\ with his fiery waine
6. 3.29.2 |   Vnto his Inne began to draw apace;
6. 3.29.3 |   Tho wexing weary of that toylesome paine,
6. 3.29.4 |   In trauelling on foote so long a space,
6. 3.29.5 |   Not wont on foote with heauy armes to trace,
6. 3.29.6 |   Downe in a dale forby a riuers syde,
6. 3.29.7 |   He chaunst to spie a faire and stately place,
6. 3.29.8 |   To which he meant his weary steps to guyde,
6. 3.29.9 | In hope there for his loue some succour to prouyde.

6. 3.30.1 | But comming to the riuers side, he found
6. 3.30.2 |   That hardly passable on foote it was:
6. 3.30.3 |   Therefore there still he stood as in a stound,
6. 3.30.4 |   Ne wist which way he through the foord mote pas.
6. 3.30.5 |   Thus whilest he was in this distressed case,
6. 3.30.6 |   Deuising what to doe, he nigh espyde
6. 3.30.7 |   An armed Knight approaching to the place,
6. 3.30.8 |   With a faire Lady lincked by his syde,
6. 3.30.9 | The which themselues prepard thorough the foord to ride.

6. 3.31.1 | Whom \Calepine\ saluting (as became)
6. 3.31.2 |   Besought of courtesie in that his neede,
6. 3.31.3 |   For safe conducting of his sickely Dame,
6. 3.31.4 |   Through that same perillous foord with better heede,
6. 3.31.5 |   To take him vp behinde vpon his steed.
6. 3.31.6 |   To whom that other did this taunt returne.
6. 3.31.7 |   Perdy thou peasant Knight, mightst rightly reed
6. 3.31.8 |   Me then to be full base and euill borne,
6. 3.31.9 | If I would beare behinde a burden of such scorne.

6. 3.32.1 | But as thou hast thy steed forlorne with shame,
6. 3.32.2 |   So fare on foote till thou another gayne,
6. 3.32.3 |   And let thy Lady likewise doe the same.
6. 3.32.4 |   Or beare her on thy backe with pleasing payne,
6. 3.32.5 |   And proue thy manhood on the billowes vayne.
6. 3.32.6 |   With which rude speach his Lady much displeased,
6. 3.32.7 |   Did him reproue, yet could him not restrayne,
6. 3.32.8 |   And would on her owne Palfrey him haue eased,
6. 3.32.9 | For pitty of his Dame, whom she saw so diseased.

6. 3.33.1 | Sir \Calepine\ her thanckt, yet inly wroth
6. 3.33.2 |   Against her Knight, her gentlenesse refused,
6. 3.33.3 |   And carelesly into the riuer goth,
6. 3.33.4 |   As in despight to be so fowle abused
6. 3.33.5 |   Of a rude churle, whom often he accused
6. 3.33.6 |   Of fowle discourtesie, vnfit for Knight;
6. 3.33.7 |   And strongly wading through the waues vnused,
6. 3.33.8 |   With speare in th'=one hand, stayd him selfe vpright,
6. 3.33.9 | With th'=other staide his Lady vp with steddy might.

6. 3.34.1 | And all the while, that same discourteous Knight,
6. 3.34.2 |   Stood on the further bancke beholding him,
6. 3.34.3 |   At whose calamity, for more despight
6. 3.34.4 |   He laught, and mockt to see him like to swim.
6. 3.34.5 |   But when as \Calepine\ came to the brim,
6. 3.34.6 |   And saw his carriage past that perill well,
6. 3.34.7 |   Looking at that same Carle with count'nance grim,
6. 3.34.8 |   His heart with vengeaunce inwardly did swell,
6. 3.34.9 | And forth at last did breake in speaches sharpe and fell.

6. 3.35.1 | Vnknightly Knight, the blemish of that name,
6. 3.35.2 |   And blot of all that armes vppon them take,
6. 3.35.3 |   Which is the badge of honour and of fame,
6. 3.35.4 |   Loe I defie thee, and here challenge make,
6. 3.35.5 |   That thou for euer doe those armes forsake,
6. 3.35.6 |   And be for euer held a recreant Knight,
6. 3.35.7 |   Vnlesse thou dare for thy deare Ladies sake,
6. 3.35.8 |   And for thine owne defence on foote alight,
6. 3.35.9 | To iustifie thy fault gainst me in equall fight.

6. 3.36.1 | The dastard, that did heare him selfe defyde,
6. 3.36.2 |   Seem'd not to weigh his threatfull words at all,
6. 3.36.3 |   But laught them out, as if his greater pryde
6. 3.36.4 |   Did scorne the challenge of so base a thrall:
6. 3.36.5 |   Or had no courage, or else had no gall.
6. 3.36.6 |   So much the more was \Calepine\ offended,
6. 3.36.7 |   That him to no reuenge he forth could call,
6. 3.36.8 |   But both his challenge and him selfe contemned,
6. 3.36.9 | Ne cared as a coward so to be condemned.

6. 3.37.1 | But he nought weighing what he sayd or did,
6. 3.37.2 |   Turned his steede about another way,
6. 3.37.3 |   And with his Lady to the Castle rid,
6. 3.37.4 |   Where was his won; ne did the other stay,
6. 3.37.5 |   But after went directly as he may,
6. 3.37.6 |   For his sicke charge some harbour there to seeke,
6. 3.37.7 |   Where he arriuing with the fall of day,
6. 3.37.8 |   Drew to the gate, and there with prayers meeke,
6. 3.37.9 | And myld entreaty lodging did for her beseeke.

6. 3.38.1 | But the rude Porter that no manners had,
6. 3.38.2 |   Did shut the gate against him in his face,
6. 3.38.3 |   And entraunce boldly vnto him forbad.
6. 3.38.4 |   Nathelesse the Knight now in so needy case,
6. 3.38.5 |   Gan him entreat euen with submission base,
6. 3.38.6 |   And humbly praid to let them in that night:
6. 3.38.7 |   Who to him aunswer'd, that there was no place
6. 3.38.8 |   Of lodging fit for any errant Knight,
6. 3.38.9 | Vnlesse that with his Lord he formerly did fight.

6. 3.39.1 | Full loth am I (quoth he) as now at earst,
6. 3.39.2 |   When day is spent, and rest vs needeth most,
6. 3.39.3 |   And that this Lady, both whose sides are pearst
6. 3.39.4 |   With wounds, is ready to forgo the ghost:
6. 3.39.5 |   Ne would I gladly combate with mine host,
6. 3.39.6 |   That should to me such curtesie afford,
6. 3.39.7 |   Vnlesse that I were thereunto enforst.
6. 3.39.8 |   But yet aread to me, how hight thy Lord,
6. 3.39.9 | That doth thus strongly ward the Castle of the ford.

6. 3.40.1 | His name (quoth he) if that thou list to learne,
6. 3.40.2 |   Is hight Sir \Turpine\, one of mickle might,
6. 3.40.3 |   And manhood rare, but terrible and stearne
6. 3.40.4 |   In all assaies to euery errant Knight,
6. 3.40.5 |   Because of one, that wrought him fowle despight.
6. 3.40.6 |   Ill seemes (sayd he) if he so valiaunt be,
6. 3.40.7 |   That he should be so sterne to stranger wight:
6. 3.40.8 |   For seldome yet did liuing creature see,
6. 3.40.9 | That curtesie and manhood euer disagree.

6. 3.41.1 | But go thy waies to him, and fro me say,
6. 3.41.2 |   That here is at his gate an errant Knight,
6. 3.41.3 |   That house-rome craues, yet would be loth t'=assay
6. 3.41.4 |   The proofe of battell, now in doubtfull night,
6. 3.41.5 |   Or curtesie with rudenesse to requite:
6. 3.41.6 |   Yet if he needes will fight, craue leaue till morne,
6. 3.41.7 |   And tell withall, the lamentable plight,
6. 3.41.8 |   In which this Lady languisheth forlorne,
6. 3.41.9 | That pitty craues, as he of woman was yborne.

6. 3.42.1 | The groome went streight way in, and to his Lord
6. 3.42.2 |   Declar'd the message, which that Knight did moue;
6. 3.42.3 |   Who sitting with his Lady then at bord,
6. 3.42.4 |   Not onely did not his demaund approue,
6. 3.42.5 |   But both himselfe reuil'd, and eke his loue;
6. 3.42.6 |   Albe his Lady, that \Blandina\ hight,
6. 3.42.7 |   Him of vngentle vsage did reproue
6. 3.42.8 |   And earnestly entreated that they might
6. 3.42.9 | Finde fauour to be lodged there for that same night.

6. 3.43.1 | Yet would he not perswaded be for ought,
6. 3.43.2 |   Ne from his currish will awhit reclame.
6. 3.43.3 |   Which answer when the groome returning, brought
6. 3.43.4 |   To \Calepine\, his heart did inly flame
6. 3.43.5 |   With wrathfull fury for so foule a shame,
6. 3.43.6 |   That he could not thereof auenged bee:
6. 3.43.7 |   But most for pitty of his dearest Dame,
6. 3.43.8 |   Whom now in deadly daunger he did see;
6. 3.43.9 | Yet had no meanes to comfort, nor procure her glee.

6. 3.44.1 | But all in vaine; for why, no remedy
6. 3.44.2 |   He saw, the present mischiefe to redresse,
6. 3.44.3 |   But th'=vtmost end perforce for to aby,
6. 3.44.4 |   Which that nights fortune would for him addresse.
6. 3.44.5 |   So downe he tooke his Lady in distresse,
6. 3.44.6 |   And layd her vnderneath a bush to sleepe,
6. 3.44.7 |   Couer'd with cold, and wrapt in wretchednesse,
6. 3.44.8 |   Whiles he him selfe all night did nought but weepe,
6. 3.44.9 | And wary watch about her for her safegard keepe.

6. 3.45.1 | The morrow next, so soone as ioyous day
6. 3.45.2 |   Did shew it selfe in sunny beames bedight,
6. 3.45.3 |   \Serena\ full of dolorous dismay,
6. 3.45.4 |   Twixt darkenesse dread, and hope of liuing light,
6. 3.45.5 |   Vprear'd her head to see that chearefull sight.
6. 3.45.6 |   Then \Calepine\, how euer inly wroth,
6. 3.45.7 |   And greedy to auenge that vile despight,
6. 3.45.8 |   Yet for the feeble Ladies sake, full loth
6. 3.45.9 | To make there lenger stay, forth on his iourney goth.

6. 3.46.1 | He goth on foote all armed by her side,
6. 3.46.2 |   Vpstaying still her selfe vppon her steede,
6. 3.46.3 |   Being vnhable else alone to ride;
6. 3.46.4 |   So sore her sides, so much her wounds did bleede:
6. 3.46.5 |   Till that at length, in his extreamest neede,
6. 3.46.6 |   He chaunst far off an armed Knight to spy,
6. 3.46.7 |   Pursuing him apace with greedy speede,
6. 3.46.8 |   Whom well he wist to be some enemy,
6. 3.46.9 | That meant to make aduantage of his misery.

6. 3.47.1 | Wherefore he stayd, till that he nearer drew,
6. 3.47.2 |   To weet what issue would thereof betyde,
6. 3.47.3 |   Tho whenas he approched nigh in vew,
6. 3.47.4 |   By certaine signes he plainely him descryde,
6. 3.47.5 |   To be the man, that with such scornefull pryde
6. 3.47.6 |   Had him abusde, and shamed yesterday;
6. 3.47.7 |   Therefore misdoubting, least he should misguyde
6. 3.47.8 |   His former malice to some new assay,
6. 3.47.9 | He cast to keepe him selfe so safely as he may.

6. 3.48.1 | By this the other came in place likewise,
6. 3.48.2 |   And couching close his speare and all his powre,
6. 3.48.3 |   As bent to some malicious enterprise,
6. 3.48.4 |   He bad him stand, t'=abide the bitter stoure
6. 3.48.5 |   Of his sore vengeaunce, or to make auoure
6. 3.48.6 |   Of the lewd words and deedes, which he had done:
6. 3.48.7 |   With that ran at him, as he would deuoure
6. 3.48.8 |   His life attonce; who nought could do, but shun
6. 3.48.9 | The perill of his pride, or else be ouerrun.

6. 3.49.1 | Yet he him still pursew'd from place to place,
6. 3.49.2 |   Will full intent him cruelly to kill,
6. 3.49.3 |   And like a wilde goate round about did chace,
6. 3.49.4 |   Flying the fury of his bloudy will.
6. 3.49.5 |   But his best succour and refuge was still
6. 3.49.6 |   Behinde his Ladies backe, who to him cryde,
6. 3.49.7 |   And called oft with prayers loud and shrill,
6. 3.49.8 |   As euer he to Lady was affyde,
6. 3.49.9 | To spare her Knight, and rest with reason pacifyde.

6. 3.50.1 | But he the more thereby enraged was,
6. 3.50.2 |   And with more eager felnesse him pursew'd,
6. 3.50.3 |   So that at length, after long weary chace,
6. 3.50.4 |   Hauing by chaunce a close aduantage vew'd,
6. 3.50.5 |   He ouer raught him, hauing long eschew'd
6. 3.50.6 |   His violence in vaine, and with his spere
6. 3.50.7 |   Strooke through his shoulder, that the blood ensew'd
6. 3.50.8 |   In great aboundance, as a well it were,
6. 3.50.9 | That forth out of an hill fresh gushing did appere.

6. 3.51.1 | Yet ceast he not for all that cruell wound,
6. 3.51.2 |   But chaste him still, for all his Ladies cry,
6. 3.51.3 |   Not satisfyde till on the fatall ground
6. 3.51.4 |   He saw his life powrd forth dispiteously:
6. 3.51.5 |   The which was certes in great ieopardy,
6. 3.51.6 |   Had not a wondrous chaunce his reskue wrought,
6. 3.51.7 |   And saued from his cruell villany.
6. 3.51.8 |   Such chaunces oft exceed all humaine thought:
6. 3.51.9 | That in another Canto shall to end be brought.


6. 4. A.1 | \Calepine by a saluage man\
6. 4. A.2 |   \from Turpine reskewed is,\
6. 4. A.3 | \And whylest an Infant from a Beare\
6. 4. A.4 |   \he saues, his loue doth misse.\

6. 4. 1.1 | Like as a ship with dreadfull storme long tost,
6. 4. 1.2 |   Hauing spent all her mastes and her ground-hold,
6. 4. 1.3 |   Now farre from harbour likely to be lost,
6. 4. 1.4 |   At last some fisher barke doth neare behold,
6. 4. 1.5 |   That giueth comfort to her courage cold.
6. 4. 1.6 |   Such was the state of this most courteous knight
6. 4. 1.7 |   Being oppressed by that faytour bold,
6. 4. 1.8 |   That he remayned in most perilous plight,
6. 4. 1.9 | And his sad Ladie left in pitifull affright.

6. 4. 2.1 | Till that by fortune, passing all foresight,
6. 4. 2.2 |   A saluage man, which in those woods did wonne,
6. 4. 2.3 |   Drawne with that Ladies loud and piteous shright,
6. 4. 2.4 |   Toward the same incessantly did ronne,
6. 4. 2.5 |   To vnderstand what there was to be donne.
6. 4. 2.6 |   There he this most discourteous crauen found,
6. 4. 2.7 |   As fiercely yet, as when he first begonne,
6. 4. 2.8 |   Chasing the gentle \Calepine\ around,
6. 4. 2.9 | Ne sparing him the more for all his grieuous wound.

6. 4. 3.1 | The saluage man, that neuer till this houre
6. 4. 3.2 |   Did taste of pittie, neither gentlesse knew,
6. 4. 3.3 |   Seeing his sharpe assault and cruell stoure
6. 4. 3.4 |   Was much emmoued at his perils vew,
6. 4. 3.5 |   That euen his ruder hart began to rew,
6. 4. 3.6 |   And feele compassion of his euill plight,
6. 4. 3.7 |   Against his foe that did him so pursew:
6. 4. 3.8 |   From whom he meant to free him, if he might,
6. 4. 3.9 | And him auenge of that so villenous despight.

6. 4. 4.1 | Yet armes or weapon had he none to fight,
6. 4. 4.2 |   Ne knew the vse of warlike instruments,
6. 4. 4.3 |   Saue such as sudden rage him lent to smite,
6. 4. 4.4 |   But naked without needfull vestiments,
6. 4. 4.5 |   To clad his corpse with meete habiliments,
6. 4. 4.6 |   He cared not for dint of sword nor speere,
6. 4. 4.7 |   No more then for the stroke of strawes or bents:
6. 4. 4.8 |   For from his mothers wombe, which him did beare,
6. 4. 4.9 | He was invulnerable made by Magicke leare.

6. 4. 5.1 | He stayed not t'=aduize, which way were best
6. 4. 5.2 |   His foe t'=assayle, or how himselfe to gard,
6. 4. 5.3 |   But with fierce fury and with force infest
6. 4. 5.4 |   Vpon him ran; who being well prepard,
6. 4. 5.5 |   His first assault full warily did ward,
6. 4. 5.6 |   And with the push of his sharp-pointed speare
6. 4. 5.7 |   Full on the breast him strooke, so strong and hard,
6. 4. 5.8 |   That forst him backe recoyle, and reele areare;
6. 4. 5.9 | Yet in his bodie made no wound nor bloud appeare.

6. 4. 6.1 | With that the wyld man more enraged grew,
6. 4. 6.2 |   Like to a Tygre that hath mist his pray,
6. 4. 6.3 |   And with mad mood againe vpon him flew,
6. 4. 6.4 |   Regarding neither speare, that mote him slay,
6. 4. 6.5 |   Nor his fierce steed, that mote him much dismay,
6. 4. 6.6 |   The saluage nation doth all dread despize:
6. 4. 6.7 |   Tho on his shield he griple hold did lay,
6. 4. 6.8 |   And held the same so hard, that by no wize
6. 4. 6.9 | He could him force to loose, or leaue his enterprize.

6. 4. 7.1 | Long did he wrest and wring it to and fro,
6. 4. 7.2 |   And euery way did try, but all in vaine:
6. 4. 7.3 |   For he would not his greedie grype forgoe,
6. 4. 7.4 |   But hayld and puld with all his might and maine,
6. 4. 7.5 |   That from his steed him nigh he drew againe.
6. 4. 7.6 |   Who hauing now no vse of his long speare,
6. 4. 7.7 |   So nigh at hand, nor force his shield to straine,
6. 4. 7.8 |   Both speare and shield, as things that needlesse were,
6. 4. 7.9 | He quite forsooke, and fled himselfe away for feare.

6. 4. 8.1 | But after him the wyld man ran apace,
6. 4. 8.2 |   And him pursewed with importune speed,
6. 4. 8.3 |   (For he was swift as any Bucke in chace)
6. 4. 8.4 |   And had he not in his extreamest need,
6. 4. 8.5 |   Bene helped through the swiftnesse of his steed,
6. 4. 8.6 |   He had him ouertaken in his flight.
6. 4. 8.7 |   Who euer, as he saw him nigh succeed,
6. 4. 8.8 |   Gan cry aloud with horrible affright,
6. 4. 8.9 | And shrieked out, a thing vncomely for a knight.

6. 4. 9.1 | But when the Saluage saw his labour vaine,
6. 4. 9.2 |   In following of him, that fled so fast,
6. 4. 9.3 |   He wearie woxe, and backe return'd againe
6. 4. 9.4 |   With speede vnto the place, whereas he last
6. 4. 9.5 |   Had left that couple, nere their vtmost cast.
6. 4. 9.6 |   There he that knight full sorely bleeding found,
6. 4. 9.7 |   And eke the Ladie fearefully aghast,
6. 4. 9.8 |   Both for the perill of the present stound,
6. 4. 9.9 | And also for the sharpnesse of her rankling wound.

6. 4.10.1 | For though she were right glad, so rid to bee
6. 4.10.2 |   From that vile lozell, which her late offended,
6. 4.10.3 |   Yet now no lesse encombrance she did see,
6. 4.10.4 |   And perill by this saluage man pretended;
6. 4.10.5 |   Gainst whom she saw no meanes to be defended,
6. 4.10.6 |   By reason that her knight was wounded sore.
6. 4.10.7 |   Therefore her selfe she wholy recommended
6. 4.10.8 |   To Gods sole grace, whom she did oft implore,
6. 4.10.9 | To send her succour, being of all hope forlore.

6. 4.11.1 | But the wyld man, contrarie to her feare,
6. 4.11.2 |   Came to her creeping like a fawning hound,
6. 4.11.3 |   And by rude tokens made to her appeare
6. 4.11.4 |   His deepe compassion of her dolefull stound,
6. 4.11.5 |   Kissing his hands, and crouching to the ground;
6. 4.11.6 |   For other language had he none nor speach,
6. 4.11.7 |   But a soft murmure, and confused sound
6. 4.11.8 |   Of senselesse words, which nature did him teach,
6. 4.11.9 | T'=expresse his passions, which his reason did empeach.

6. 4.12.1 | And comming likewise to the wounded knight,
6. 4.12.2 |   When he beheld the streames of purple blood
6. 4.12.3 |   Yet flowing fresh, as moued with the sight,
6. 4.12.4 |   He made great mone after his saluage mood,
6. 4.12.5 |   And running streight into the thickest wood,
6. 4.12.6 |   A certaine herbe from thence vnto him brought,
6. 4.12.7 |   Whose vertue he by vse well vnderstood:
6. 4.12.8 |   The iuyce whereof into his wound he wrought,
6. 4.12.9 | And stopt the bleeding straight, ere he it staunched thought.

6. 4.13.1 | Then taking vp that Recreants shield and speare,
6. 4.13.2 |   Which earst he left, he signes vnto them made,
6. 4.13.3 |   With him to wend vnto his wonning neare:
6. 4.13.4 |   To which he easily did them perswade.
6. 4.13.5 |   Farre in the forrest by a hollow glade,
6. 4.13.6 |   Couered with mossie shrubs, which spredding brode
6. 4.13.7 |   Did vnderneath them make a gloomy shade;
6. 4.13.8 |   Where foot of liuing creature neuer trode,
6. 4.13.9 | Ne scarse wyld beasts durst come, there was this wights abode.

6. 4.14.1 | Thether he brought these vnacquainted guests;
6. 4.14.2 |   To whom faire semblance, as he could, he shewed
6. 4.14.3 |   By signes, by lookes, and all his other gests.
6. 4.14.4 |   But the bare ground, with hoarie mosse bestrowed,
6. 4.14.5 |   Must be their bed, their pillow was vnsowed,
6. 4.14.6 |   And the frutes of the forrest was their feast:
6. 4.14.7 |   For their bad Stuard neither plough'd nor sowed,
6. 4.14.8 |   Ne fed on flesh, ne euer of wyld beast
6. 4.14.9 | Did taste the bloud, obaying natures first beheast.

6. 4.15.1 | Yet howsoeuer base and meane it were,
6. 4.15.2 |   They tooke it well, and thanked God for all,
6. 4.15.3 |   Which had them freed from that deadly feare,
6. 4.15.4 |   And sau'd from being to that caytiue thrall.
6. 4.15.5 |   Here they of force (as fortune now did fall)
6. 4.15.6 |   Compelled were themselues a while to rest,
6. 4.15.7 |   Glad of that easement, though it were but small;
6. 4.15.8 |   That hauing there their wounds awhile redrest,
6. 4.15.9 | They mote the abler be to passe vnto the rest.

6. 4.16.1 | During which time, that wyld man did apply
6. 4.16.2 |   His best endeuour, and his daily paine,
6. 4.16.3 |   In seeking all the woods both farre and nye
6. 4.16.4 |   For herbes to dresse their wounds; still seeming faine,
6. 4.16.5 |   When ought he did, that did their lyking gaine.
6. 4.16.6 |   So as ere long he had that knightes wound
6. 4.16.7 |   Recured well, and made him whole againe:
6. 4.16.8 |   But that same Ladies hurts no herbe he found,
6. 4.16.9 | Which could redresse, for it was inwardly vnsound.

6. 4.17.1 | Now when as \Calepine\ was woxen strong,
6. 4.17.2 |   Vpon a day he cast abrode to wend,
6. 4.17.3 |   To take the ayre, and heare the thrushes song,
6. 4.17.4 |   Vnarm'd, as fearing neither foe nor frend,
6. 4.17.5 |   And without sword his person to defend.
6. 4.17.6 |   There him befell, vnlooked for before,
6. 4.17.7 |   An hard aduenture with vnhappie end,
6. 4.17.8 |   A cruell Beare, the which an infant bore
6. 4.17.9 | Betwixt his bloodie iawes, besprinckled all with gore.

6. 4.18.1 | The litle babe did loudly scrike and squall,
6. 4.18.2 |   And all the woods with piteous plaints did fill,
6. 4.18.3 |   As if his cry did meane for helpe to call
6. 4.18.4 |   To \Calepine\, whose eares those shrieches shrill
6. 4.18.5 |   Percing his hart with pities point did thrill;
6. 4.18.6 |   That after him he ran with zealous haste,
6. 4.18.7 |   To rescue th'=infant, ere he did him kill:
6. 4.18.8 |   Whom though he saw now somewhat ouerpast,
6. 4.18.9 | Yet by the cry he follow'd, and pursewed fast.

6. 4.19.1 | Well then him chaunst his heauy armes to want,
6. 4.19.2 |   Whose burden mote empeach his needfull speed,
6. 4.19.3 |   And hinder him from libertie to pant:
6. 4.19.4 |   For hauing long time, as his daily weed,
6. 4.19.5 |   Them wont to weare, and wend on foot for need,
6. 4.19.6 |   Now wanting them he felt himselfe so light,
6. 4.19.7 |   That like an Hauke, which feeling her selfe freed
6. 4.19.8 |   From bels and iesses, which did let her flight,
6. 4.19.9 | Him seem'd his feet did fly, and in their speed delight.

6. 4.20.1 | So well he sped him, that the wearie Beare
6. 4.20.2 |   Ere long he ouertooke, and forst to stay,
6. 4.20.3 |   And without weapon him assayling neare,
6. 4.20.4 |   Compeld him soone the spoyle adowne to lay.
6. 4.20.5 |   Wherewith the beast enrag'd to loose his pray,
6. 4.20.6 |   Vpon him turned, and with greedie force
6. 4.20.7 |   And furie, to be crossed in his way,
6. 4.20.8 |   Gaping full wyde, did thinke without remorse
6. 4.20.9 | To be aueng'd on him, and to deuoure his corse.

6. 4.21.1 | But the bold knight no whit thereat dismayd,
6. 4.21.2 |   But catching vp in hand a ragged stone,
6. 4.21.3 |   Which lay thereby (so fortune him did ayde)
6. 4.21.4 |   Vpon him ran, and thrust it all attone
6. 4.21.5 |   Into his gaping throte, that made him grone
6. 4.21.6 |   And gaspe for breath, that he nigh choked was,
6. 4.21.7 |   Being vnable to digest that bone;
6. 4.21.8 |   Ne could it vpward come, nor downward passe,
6. 4.21.9 | Ne could he brooke the coldnesse of the stony masse.

6. 4.22.1 | Whom when as he thus combred did behold,
6. 4.22.2 |   Stryuing in vaine that nigh his bowels brast,
6. 4.22.3 |   He with him closd, and laying mightie hold
6. 4.22.4 |   Vpon his throte, did gripe his gorge so fast,
6. 4.22.5 |   That wanting breath, him downe to ground he cast;
6. 4.22.6 |   And then oppressing him with vrgent paine,
6. 4.22.7 |   Ere long enforst to breath his vtmost blast,
6. 4.22.8 |   Gnashing his cruell teeth at him in vaine,
6. 4.22.9 | And threatning his sharpe clawes, now wanting powre to straine.

6. 4.23.1 | Then tooke he vp betwixt his armes twaine
6. 4.23.2 |   The litle babe, sweet relickes of his pray,
6. 4.23.3 |   Whom pitying to heare so sore complaine,
6. 4.23.4 |   From his soft eyes the teares he wypt away,
6. 4.23.5 |   And from his face the filth that did it ray,
6. 4.23.6 |   And euery litle limbe he searcht around,
6. 4.23.7 |   And euery part, that vnder sweathbands lay,
6. 4.23.8 |   Least that the beasts sharpe teeth had any wound
6. 4.23.9 | Made in his tender flesh, but whole them all he found.

6. 4.24.1 | So hauing all his bands againe vptyde,
6. 4.24.2 |   He with him thought backe to returne againe:
6. 4.24.3 |   But when he lookt about on euery syde,
6. 4.24.4 |   To weet which way were best to entertaine,
6. 4.24.5 |   To bring him to the place, where he would faine,
6. 4.24.6 |   He could no path nor tract of foot descry,
6. 4.24.7 |   Ne by inquirie learne, nor ghesse by ayme.
6. 4.24.8 |   For nought but woods and forrests farre and nye,
6. 4.24.9 | That all about did close the compasse of his eye.

6. 4.25.1 | Much was he then encombred, ne could tell
6. 4.25.2 |   Which way to take: now West he went a while,
6. 4.25.3 |   Then North; then neither, but as fortune fell.
6. 4.25.4 |   So vp and downe he wandred many a mile,
6. 4.25.5 |   With wearie trauell and vncertaine toile,
6. 4.25.6 |   Yet nought the nearer to his iourneys end;
6. 4.25.7 |   And euermore his louely litle spoile
6. 4.25.8 |   Crying for food, did greatly him offend.
6. 4.25.9 | So all that day in wandring vainely he did spend.

6. 4.26.1 | At last about the setting of the Sunne,
6. 4.26.2 |   Him selfe out of the forest he did wynd,
6. 4.26.3 |   And by good fortune the plaine champion wonne:
6. 4.26.4 |   Where looking all about, where he mote fynd
6. 4.26.5 |   Some place of succour to content his mynd,
6. 4.26.6 |   At length he heard vnder the forrests syde
6. 4.26.7 |   A voice, that seemed of some woman kynd,
6. 4.26.8 |   Which to her selfe lamenting loudly cryde,
6. 4.26.9 | And oft complayn'd of fate, and fortune oft defyde.

6. 4.27.1 | To whom approching, when as she perceiued
6. 4.27.2 |   A stranger wight in place, her plaint she stayd,
6. 4.27.3 |   As if she doubted to haue bene deceiued,
6. 4.27.4 |   Or loth to let her sorrowes be bewrayd.
6. 4.27.5 |   Whom when as \Calepine\ saw so dismayd,
6. 4.27.6 |   He to her drew, and with faire blandishment
6. 4.27.7 |   Her chearing vp, thus gently to her sayd;
6. 4.27.8 |   What be you wofull Dame, which thus lament,
6. 4.27.9 | And for what cause declare, so mote ye not repent.

6. 4.28.1 | To whom she thus, What need me Sir to tell,
6. 4.28.2 |   That which your selfe haue earst ared so right?
6. 4.28.3 |   A wofull dame ye haue me termed well;
6. 4.28.4 |   So much more wofull, as my wofull plight
6. 4.28.5 |   Cannot redressed be by liuing wight.
6. 4.28.6 |   Nathlesse (quoth he) if need doe not you bynd,
6. 4.28.7 |   Doe it disclose, to ease your grieued spright:
6. 4.28.8 |   Oftimes it haps, that sorrowes of the mynd
6. 4.28.9 | Find remedie vnsought, which seeking cannot fynd.

6. 4.29.1 | Then thus began the lamentable Dame;
6. 4.29.2 |   Sith then ye needs will know the griefe I hoord,
6. 4.29.3 |   I am th'=vnfortunate \Matilde\ by name,
6. 4.29.4 |   The wife of bold Sir \Bruin\, who is Lord
6. 4.29.5 |   Of all this land, late conquer'd by his sword
6. 4.29.6 |   From a great Gyant, called \Cormoraunt\;
6. 4.29.7 |   Whom he did ouerthrow by yonder foord,
6. 4.29.8 |   And in three battailes did so deadly daunt,
6. 4.29.9 | That he dare not returne for all his daily vaunt.

6. 4.30.1 | So is my Lord now seiz'd of all the land,
6. 4.30.2 |   As in his fee, with peaceable estate,
6. 4.30.3 |   And quietly doth hold it in his hand,
6. 4.30.4 |   Ne any dares with him for it debate.
6. 4.30.5 |   But to these happie fortunes, cruell fate
6. 4.30.6 |   Hath ioyn'd one euill, which doth ouerthrow
6. 4.30.7 |   All these our ioyes, and all our blisse abate;
6. 4.30.8 |   And like in time to further ill to grow,
6. 4.30.9 | And all this land with endlesse losse to ouerflow.

6. 4.31.1 | For th'=heauens enuying our prosperitie,
6. 4.31.2 |   Haue not vouchsaft to graunt vnto vs twaine
6. 4.31.3 |   The gladfull blessing of posteritie,
6. 4.31.4 |   Which we might see after our selues remaine
6. 4.31.5 |   In th'=heritage of our vnhappie paine:
6. 4.31.6 |   So that for want of heires it to defend,
6. 4.31.7 |   All is in time like to returne againe
6. 4.31.8 |   To that foule feend, who dayly doth attend
6. 4.31.9 | To leape into the same after our liues end.

6. 4.32.1 | But most my Lord is grieued herewithall,
6. 4.32.2 |   And makes exceeding mone, when he does thinke
6. 4.32.3 |   That all this land vnto his foe shall fall,
6. 4.32.4 |   For which he long in vaine did sweat and swinke,
6. 4.32.5 |   That now the same he greatly doth forthinke.
6. 4.32.6 |   Yet was it sayd, there should to him a sonne
6. 4.32.7 |   \Be gotten\, \not begotten\, which should drinke
6. 4.32.8 |   And dry vp all the water, which doth ronne
6. 4.32.9 | In the next brooke, by whom that feend shold be fordonne.

6. 4.33.1 | Well hop't he then, when this was propheside,
6. 4.33.2 |   That from his sides some noble chyld should rize,
6. 4.33.3 |   The which through fame should farre be magnifide,
6. 4.33.4 |   And this proud gyant should with braue emprize
6. 4.33.5 |   Quite ouerthrow, who now ginnes to despize
6. 4.33.6 |   The good Sir \Bruin\, growing farre in yeares;
6. 4.33.7 |   Who thinkes from me his sorrow all doth rize.
6. 4.33.8 |   Lo this my cause of griefe to you appeares;
6. 4.33.9 | For which I thus doe mourne, and poure forth ceaselesse teares.

6. 4.34.1 | Which when he heard, he inly touched was
6. 4.34.2 |   With tender ruth for her vnworthy griefe,
6. 4.34.3 |   And when he had deuized of her case,
6. 4.34.4 |   He gan in mind conceiue a fit reliefe
6. 4.34.5 |   For all her paine, if please her make the priefe.
6. 4.34.6 |   And hauing cheared her, thus said; Faire Dame,
6. 4.34.7 |   In euils counsell is the comfort chiefe,
6. 4.34.8 |   Which though I be not wise enough to frame,
6. 4.34.9 | Yet as I well it meane, vouchsafe it without blame.

6. 4.35.1 | If that the cause of this your languishment
6. 4.35.2 |   Be lacke of children, to supply your place,
6. 4.35.3 |   Lo how good fortune doth to you present
6. 4.35.4 |   This litle babe, of sweete and louely face,
6. 4.35.5 |   And spotlesse spirit, in which ye may enchace
6. 4.35.6 |   What euer formes ye list thereto apply,
6. 4.35.7 |   Being now soft and fit them to embrace;
6. 4.35.8 |   Whether ye list him traine in cheualry,
6. 4.35.9 | Or noursle vp in lore of learn'd Philosophy.

6. 4.36.1 | And certes it hath oftentimes bene seene,
6. 4.36.2 |   That of the like, whose linage was vnknowne,
6. 4.36.3 |   More braue and noble knights haue raysed beene,
6. 4.36.4 |   As their victorious deedes haue often showen,
6. 4.36.5 |   Being with fame through many Nations blowen,
6. 4.36.6 |   Then those, which haue bene dandled in the lap.
6. 4.36.7 |   Therefore some thought, that those braue imps were sowen
6. 4.36.8 |   Here by the Gods, and fed with heauenly sap,
6. 4.36.9 | That made them grow so high t'=all honorable hap.

6. 4.37.1 | The Ladie hearkning to his sensefull speach,
6. 4.37.2 |   Found nothing that he said, vnmeet nor geason,
6. 4.37.3 |   Hauing oft seene it tryde, as he did teach.
6. 4.37.4 |   Therefore inclyning to his goodly reason,
6. 4.37.5 |   Agreeing well both with the place and season,
6. 4.37.6 |   She gladly did of that same babe accept,
6. 4.37.7 |   As of her owne by liuerey and seisin,
6. 4.37.8 |   And hauing ouer it a litle wept,
6. 4.37.9 | She bore it thence, and euer as her owne it kept.

6. 4.38.1 | Right glad was \Calepine\ to be so rid
6. 4.38.2 |   Of his young charge, whereof he skilled nought:
6. 4.38.3 |   Ne she lesse glad; for she so wisely did,
6. 4.38.4 |   And with her husband vnder hand so wrought,
6. 4.38.5 |   That when that infant vnto him she brought,
6. 4.38.6 |   She made him thinke it surely was his owne,
6. 4.38.7 |   And it in goodly thewes so well vpbrought,
6. 4.38.8 |   That it became a famous knight well knowne
6. 4.38.9 | And did right noble deedes, the which elswhere are showne.

6. 4.39.1 | But \Calepine\, now being left alone
6. 4.39.2 |   Vnder the greenewoods side in sorie plight,
6. 4.39.3 |   Withouten armes or steede to ride vpon,
6. 4.39.4 |   Or house to hide his head from heauens spight,
6. 4.39.5 |   Albe that Dame by all the meanes she might,
6. 4.39.6 |   Him oft desired home with her to wend,
6. 4.39.7 |   And offred him, his courtesie to requite,
6. 4.39.8 |   Both horse and armes, and what so else to lend,
6. 4.39.9 | Yet he them all refusd, though thankt her as a frend.

6. 4.40.1 | And for exceeding griefe which inly grew,
6. 4.40.2 |   That he his loue so lucklesse now had lost,
6. 4.40.3 |   On the cold ground, maugre himselfe he threw,
6. 4.40.4 |   For fell despight, to be so sorely crost;
6. 4.40.5 |   And there all night himselfe in anguish tost,
6. 4.40.6 |   Vowing, that neuer he in bed againe
6. 4.40.7 |   His limbes would rest, ne lig in ease embost,
6. 4.40.8 |   Till that his Ladies sight he mote attaine,
6. 4.40.9 | Or vnderstand, that she in safetie did remaine.


6. 5. A.1 | \The saluage serues Matilda well\
6. 5. A.2 |   \till she Prince Arthure fynd,\
6. 5. A.3 | \Who her together with his Squyre\
6. 5. A.4 |   \with th'=Hermit leaues behynd.\

6. 5. 1.1 | O what an easie thing is to descry
6. 5. 1.2 |   The gentle bloud, how euer it be wrapt
6. 5. 1.3 |   In sad misfortunes foule deformity,
6. 5. 1.4 |   And wretched sorrowes, which haue often hapt?
6. 5. 1.5 |   For howsoeuer it may grow mis-shapt,
6. 5. 1.6 |   Like this wyld man, being vndisciplynd,
6. 5. 1.7 |   That to all vertue it may seeme vnapt,
6. 5. 1.8 |   Yet will it shew some sparkes of gentle mynd,
6. 5. 1.9 | And at the last breake forth in his owne proper kynd.

6. 5. 2.1 | That plainely may in this wyld man be red,
6. 5. 2.2 |   Who though he were still in this desert wood,
6. 5. 2.3 |   Mongst saluage beasts, both rudely borne and bred,
6. 5. 2.4 |   Ne euer saw faire guize, ne learned good,
6. 5. 2.5 |   Yet shewd some token of his gentle blood,
6. 5. 2.6 |   By gentle vsage of that wretched Dame.
6. 5. 2.7 |   For certes he was borne of noble blood,
6. 5. 2.8 |   How euer by hard hap he hether came;
6. 5. 2.9 | As ye may know, when time shall be to tell the same.

6. 5. 3.1 | Who when as now long time he lacked had
6. 5. 3.2 |   The good Sir \Calepine\, that farre was strayd,
6. 5. 3.3 |   Did wexe exceeding sorrowfull and sad,
6. 5. 3.4 |   As he of some misfortune were afrayd:
6. 5. 3.5 |   And leauing there this Ladie all dismayd,
6. 5. 3.6 |   Went forth streightway into the forrest wyde,
6. 5. 3.7 |   To seeke, if he perchance a sleepe were layd,
6. 5. 3.8 |   Or what so else were vnto him betyde:
6. 5. 3.9 | He sought him farre and neare, yet him no where he spyde.

6. 5. 4.1 | Tho backe returning to that sorie Dame,
6. 5. 4.2 |   He shewed semblant of exceeding mone,
6. 5. 4.3 |   By speaking signes, as he them best could frame;
6. 5. 4.4 |   Now wringing both his wretched hands in one,
6. 5. 4.5 |   Now beating his hard head vpon a stone,
6. 5. 4.6 |   That ruth it was to see him so lament.
6. 5. 4.7 |   By which she well perceiuing, what was done,
6. 5. 4.8 |   Gan teare her hayre, and all her garments rent,
6. 5. 4.9 | And beat her breast, and piteously her selfe torment.

6. 5. 5.1 | Vpon the ground her selfe she fiercely threw,
6. 5. 5.2 |   Regardlesse of her wounds, yet bleeding rife,
6. 5. 5.3 |   That with their bloud did all the flore imbrew,
6. 5. 5.4 |   As if her breast new launcht with murdrous knife,
6. 5. 5.5 |   Would streight dislodge the wretched wearie life.
6. 5. 5.6 |   There she long groueling, and deepe groning lay,
6. 5. 5.7 |   As if her vitall powers were at strife
6. 5. 5.8 |   With stronger death, and feared their decay,
6. 5. 5.9 | Such were this Ladies pangs and dolorous assay.

6. 5. 6.1 | Whom when the Saluage saw so sore distrest,
6. 5. 6.2 |   He reared her vp from the bloudie ground,
6. 5. 6.3 |   And sought by all the meanes, that he could best
6. 5. 6.4 |   Her to recure out of that stony swound,
6. 5. 6.5 |   And staunch the bleeding of her dreary wound.
6. 5. 6.6 |   Yet nould she be recomforted for nought,
6. 5. 6.7 |   Ne cease her sorrow and impatient stound,
6. 5. 6.8 |   But day and night did vexe her carefull thought,
6. 5. 6.9 | And euer more and more her owne affliction wrought.

6. 5. 7.1 | At length, when as no hope of his retourne
6. 5. 7.2 |   She saw now left, she cast to leaue the place,
6. 5. 7.3 |   And wend abrode, though feeble and forlorne,
6. 5. 7.4 |   To seeke some comfort in that sorie case.
6. 5. 7.5 |   His steede now strong through rest so long a space,
6. 5. 7.6 |   Well as she could, she got, and did bedight,
6. 5. 7.7 |   And being thereon mounted, forth did pace,
6. 5. 7.8 |   Withouten guide, her to conduct aright,
6. 5. 7.9 | Or gard her to defend from bold oppressors might.

6. 5. 8.1 | Whom when her Host saw readie to depart,
6. 5. 8.2 |   He would not suffer her alone to fare,
6. 5. 8.3 |   But gan himselfe addresse to take her part.
6. 5. 8.4 |   Those warlike armes, which \Calepine\ whyleare
6. 5. 8.5 |   Had left behind, he gan eftsoones prepare,
6. 5. 8.6 |   And put them all about himselfe vnfit,
6. 5. 8.7 |   His shield, his helmet, and his curats bare.
6. 5. 8.8 |   But without sword vpon his thigh to sit:
6. 5. 8.9 | Sir \Calepine\ himselfe away had hidden it.

6. 5. 9.1 | So forth they traueld an vneuen payre,
6. 5. 9.2 |   That mote to all men seeme an vncouth sight;
6. 5. 9.3 |   A saluage man matcht with a Ladie fayre,
6. 5. 9.4 |   That rather seem'd the conquest of his might,
6. 5. 9.5 |   Gotten by spoyle, then purchaced aright.
6. 5. 9.6 |   But he did her attend most carefully,
6. 5. 9.7 |   And faithfully did serue both day and night,
6. 5. 9.8 |   Withouten thought of shame or villeny,
6. 5. 9.9 | Ne euer shewed signe of foule disloyalty.

6. 5.10.1 | Vpon a day as on their way they went,
6. 5.10.2 |   It chaunst some furniture about her steed
6. 5.10.3 |   To be disordred by some accident:
6. 5.10.4 |   Which to redresse, she did th'=assistance need
6. 5.10.5 |   Of this her groome, which he by signes did reede,
6. 5.10.6 |   And streight his combrous armes aside did lay
6. 5.10.7 |   Vpon the ground, withouten doubt or dreed,
6. 5.10.8 |   And in his homely wize began to assay
6. 5.10.9 | T'=amend what was amisse, and put in right aray.

6. 5.11.1 | Bout which whilest he was busied thus hard,
6. 5.11.2 |   Lo where a knight together with his squire,
6. 5.11.3 |   All arm'd to point came ryding thetherward,
6. 5.11.4 |   Which seemed by their portance and attire,
6. 5.11.5 |   To be two errant knights, that did inquire
6. 5.11.6 |   After aduentures, where they mote them get.
6. 5.11.7 |   Those were to weet (if that ye it require)
6. 5.11.8 |   Prince \Arthur\ and young \Timias\, which met
6. 5.11.9 | By straunge occasion, that here needs forth be set.

6. 5.12.1 | After that \Timias\ had againe recured
6. 5.12.2 |   The fauour of \Belphebe\, (as ye heard)
6. 5.12.3 |   And of her grace did stand againe assured,
6. 5.12.4 |   To happie blisse he was full high vprear'd,
6. 5.12.5 |   Nether of enuy, nor of chaunge afeard,
6. 5.12.6 |   Though many foes did him maligne therefore,
6. 5.12.7 |   And with vniust detraction him did beard;
6. 5.12.8 |   Yet he himselfe so well and wisely bore,
6. 5.12.9 | That in her soueraine lyking he dwelt euermore.

6. 5.13.1 | But of them all, which did his ruine seeke
6. 5.13.2 |   Three mightie enemies did him most despight,
6. 5.13.3 |   Three mightie ones, and cruell minded eeke,
6. 5.13.4 |   That him not onely sought by open might
6. 5.13.5 |   To ouerthrow, but to supplant by slight.
6. 5.13.6 |   The first of them by name was cald \Despetto\,
6. 5.13.7 |   Exceeding all the rest in powre and hight;
6. 5.13.8 |   The second not so strong but wise, \Decetto\;
6. 5.13.9 | The third nor strong nor wise, but spightfullest \Defetto\.

6. 5.14.1 | Oftimes their sundry powres they did employ,
6. 5.14.2 |   And seuerall deceipts, but all in vaine:
6. 5.14.3 |   For neither they by force could him destroy,
6. 5.14.4 |   Ne yet entrap in treasons subtill traine.
6. 5.14.5 |   Therefore conspiring all together plaine,
6. 5.14.6 |   They did their counsels now in one compound;
6. 5.14.7 |   Where singled forces faile, conioynd may gaine.
6. 5.14.8 |   The \Blatant Beast\ the fittest meanes they found,
6. 5.14.9 | To worke his vtter shame, and throughly him confound.

6. 5.15.1 | Vpon a day as they the time did waite,
6. 5.15.2 |   When he did raunge the wood for saluage game,
6. 5.15.3 |   They sent that \Blatant Beast\ to be a baite,
6. 5.15.4 |   To draw him from his deare beloued dame,
6. 5.15.5 |   Vnwares into the daunger of defame.
6. 5.15.6 |   For well they wist, that Squire to be so bold,
6. 5.15.7 |   That no one beast in forrest wylde or tame,
6. 5.15.8 |   Met him in chase, but he it challenge would,
6. 5.15.9 | And plucke the pray oftimes out of their greedy hould.

6. 5.16.1 | The hardy boy, as they deuised had,
6. 5.16.2 |   Seeing the vgly Monster passing by,
6. 5.16.3 |   Vpon him set, of perill nought adrad,
6. 5.16.4 |   Ne skilfull of the vncouth ieopardy;
6. 5.16.5 |   And charged him so fierce and furiously,
6. 5.16.6 |   That his great force vnable to endure,
6. 5.16.7 |   He forced was to turne from him and fly:
6. 5.16.8 |   Yet ere he fled, he with his tooth impure
6. 5.16.9 | Him heedlesse bit, the whiles he was thereof secure.

6. 5.17.1 | Securely he did after him pursew,
6. 5.17.2 |   Thinking by speed to ouertake his flight;
6. 5.17.3 |   Who through thicke woods and brakes and briers him drew,
6. 5.17.4 |   To weary him the more, and waste his spight,
6. 5.17.5 |   So that he now has almost spent his spright.
6. 5.17.6 |   Till that at length vnto a woody glade
6. 5.17.7 |   He came, whose couert stopt his further sight,
6. 5.17.8 |   There his three foes shrowded in guilefull shade,
6. 5.17.9 | Out of their ambush broke, and gan him to inuade.

6. 5.18.1 | Sharpely they all attonce did him assaile,
6. 5.18.2 |   Burning with inward rancour and despight,
6. 5.18.3 |   And heaped strokes did round about him haile
6. 5.18.4 |   With so huge force, that seemed nothing might
6. 5.18.5 |   Beare off their blowes, from percing thorough quite.
6. 5.18.6 |   Yet he them all so warily did ward,
6. 5.18.7 |   That none of them in his soft flesh did bite,
6. 5.18.8 |   And all the while his backe for best safegard,
6. 5.18.9 | He lent against a tree, that backeward onset bard.

6. 5.19.1 | Like a wylde Bull, that being at a bay,
6. 5.19.2 |   Is bayted of a mastiffe, and a hound,
6. 5.19.3 |   And a curre-dog; that doe him sharpe assay
6. 5.19.4 |   On euery side, and beat about him round;
6. 5.19.5 |   But most that curre barking with bitter sownd,
6. 5.19.6 |   And creeping still behinde, doth him incomber,
6. 5.19.7 |   That in his chauffe he digs the trampled ground,
6. 5.19.8 |   And threats his horns, and bellowes like the thonder,
6. 5.19.9 | So did that Squire his foes disperse, and driue asonder.

6. 5.20.1 | Him well behoued so; for his three foes
6. 5.20.2 |   Sought to encompasse him on euery side,
6. 5.20.3 |   And dangerously did round about enclose.
6. 5.20.4 |   But most of all \Defetto\ him annoyde,
6. 5.20.5 |   Creeping behinde him still to haue destroyde:
6. 5.20.6 |   So did \Decetto\ eke him circumuent,
6. 5.20.7 |   But stout \Despetto\ in his greater pryde,
6. 5.20.8 |   Did front him face to face against him bent,
6. 5.20.9 | Yet he them all withstood, and often made relent.

6. 5.21.1 | Till that at length nigh tyrd with former chace,
6. 5.21.2 |   And weary now with carefull keeping ward,
6. 5.21.3 |   He gan to shrinke, and somewhat to giue place,
6. 5.21.4 |   Full like ere long to haue escaped hard;
6. 5.21.5 |   When as vnwares he in the forrest heard
6. 5.21.6 |   A trampling steede, that with his neighing fast
6. 5.21.7 |   Did warne his rider be vppon his gard;
6. 5.21.8 |   With noise whereof the Squire now nigh aghast,
6. 5.21.9 | Reuiued was, and sad dispaire away did cast.

6. 5.22.1 | Eftsoones he spide a Knight approching nye,
6. 5.22.2 |   Who seeing one in so great daunger set
6. 5.22.3 |   Mongst many foes, him selfe did faster hye;
6. 5.22.4 |   To reskue him, and his weake part abet,
6. 5.22.5 |   For pitty so to see him ouerset.
6. 5.22.6 |   Whom soone as his three enemies did vew,
6. 5.22.7 |   They fled, and fast into the wood did get:
6. 5.22.8 |   Him booted not to thinke them to pursew,
6. 5.22.9 | The couert was so thicke, that did no passage shew.

6. 5.23.1 | Then turning to that swaine, him well he knew
6. 5.23.2 |   To be his \Timias\, his owne true Squire,
6. 5.23.3 |   Whereof exceeding glad, he to him drew,
6. 5.23.4 |   And him embracing twixt his armes entire,
6. 5.23.5 |   Him thus bespake; My liefe, my lifes desire,
6. 5.23.6 |   Why haue ye me alone thus long yleft?
6. 5.23.7 |   Tell me what worlds despight, or heauens yre
6. 5.23.8 |   Hath you thus long away from me bereft?
6. 5.23.9 | Where haue ye all this while bin wandring, where bene weft?

6. 5.24.1 | With that he sighed deepe for inward tyne:
6. 5.24.2 |   To whom the Squire nought aunswered againe,
6. 5.24.3 |   But shedding few soft teares from tender eyne,
6. 5.24.4 |   His deare affect with silence did restraine,
6. 5.24.5 |   And shut vp all his plaint in priuy paine.
6. 5.24.6 |   There they awhile some gracious speaches spent,
6. 5.24.7 |   As to them seemed fit time to entertaine.
6. 5.24.8 |   After all which vp to their steedes they went,
6. 5.24.9 | And forth together rode a comely couplement.

6. 5.25.1 | So now they be arriued both in sight
6. 5.25.2 |   Of this wyld man, whom they full busie found
6. 5.25.3 |   About the sad \Serena\ things to dight,
6. 5.25.4 |   With those braue armours lying on the ground,
6. 5.25.5 |   That seem'd the spoile of some right well renownd.
6. 5.25.6 |   Which when that Squire beheld, he to them stept,
6. 5.25.7 |   Thinking to take them from that hylding hound:
6. 5.25.8 |   But he it seeing, lightly to him lept,
6. 5.25.9 | And sternely with strong hand it from his handling kept.

6. 5.26.1 | Gnashing his grinded teeth with griesly looke,
6. 5.26.2 |   And sparkling fire out of his furious eyne,
6. 5.26.3 |   Him with his fist vnwares on th'=head he strooke,
6. 5.26.4 |   That made him downe vnto the earth encline;
6. 5.26.5 |   Whence soone vpstarting much he gan repine,
6. 5.26.6 |   And laying hand vpon his wrathfull blade,
6. 5.26.7 |   Thought therewithall forthwith him to haue slaine,
6. 5.26.8 |   Who it perceiuing, hand vpon him layd,
6. 5.26.9 | And greedily him griping, his auengement stayd.

6. 5.27.1 | With that aloude the faire \Serena\ cryde
6. 5.27.2 |   Vnto the Knight, them to dispart in twaine:
6. 5.27.3 |   Who to them stepping did them soone diuide,
6. 5.27.4 |   And did from further violence restraine,
6. 5.27.5 |   Albe the wyld-man hardly would refraine.
6. 5.27.6 |   Then gan the Prince, of her for to demand,
6. 5.27.7 |   What and from whence she was, and by what traine
6. 5.27.8 |   She fell into that saluage villaines hand,
6. 5.27.9 | And whether free with him she now were, or in band.

6. 5.28.1 | To whom she thus; I am, as now ye see,
6. 5.28.2 |   The wretchedst Dame, that liue this day on ground,
6. 5.28.3 |   Who both in minde, the which most grieueth me,
6. 5.28.4 |   And body haue receiu'd a mortall wound,
6. 5.28.5 |   That hath me driuen to this drery stound.
6. 5.28.6 |   I was erewhile, the loue of \Calepine\,
6. 5.28.7 |   Who whether he aliue be to be found,
6. 5.28.8 |   Or by some deadly chaunce be done to pine,
6. 5.28.9 | Since I him lately lost, vneath is to define.

6. 5.29.1 | In saluage forrest I him lost of late,
6. 5.29.2 |   Where I had surely long ere this bene dead,
6. 5.29.3 |   Or else remained in most wretched state,
6. 5.29.4 |   Had not this wylde man in that wofull stead
6. 5.29.5 |   Kept, and deliuered me from deadly dread.
6. 5.29.6 |   In such a saluage wight, of brutish kynd,
6. 5.29.7 |   Amongst wilde beastes in desert forrests bred,
6. 5.29.8 |   It is most straunge and wonderfull to fynd
6. 5.29.9 | So milde humanity, and perfect gentle mynd.

6. 5.30.1 | Let me therefore this fauour for him finde,
6. 5.30.2 |   That ye will not your wrath vpon him wreake,
6. 5.30.3 |   Sith he cannot expresse his simple minde,
6. 5.30.4 |   Ne yours conceiue, ne but by tokens speake:
6. 5.30.5 |   Small praise to proue your powre on wight so weake.
6. 5.30.6 |   With such faire words she did their heate asswage,
6. 5.30.7 |   And the strong course of their displeasure breake,
6. 5.30.8 |   That they to pitty turnd their former rage,
6. 5.30.9 | And each sought to supply the office of her page.

6. 5.31.1 | So hauing all things well about her dight,
6. 5.31.2 |   She on her way cast forward to proceede,
6. 5.31.3 |   And they her forth conducted, where they might
6. 5.31.4 |   Finde harbour fit to comfort her great neede.
6. 5.31.5 |   For now her wounds corruption gan to breed;
6. 5.31.6 |   And eke this Squire, who likewise wounded was
6. 5.31.7 |   Of that same Monster late, for lacke of heed,
6. 5.31.8 |   Now gan to faint, and further could not pas
6. 5.31.9 | Through feeblenesse, which all his limbes oppressed has.

6. 5.32.1 | So forth they rode together all in troupe,
6. 5.32.2 |   To seeke some place, the which mote yeeld some ease
6. 5.32.3 |   To these sicke twaine, that now began to droupe,
6. 5.32.4 |   And all the way the Prince sought to appease
6. 5.32.5 |   The bitter anguish of their sharpe disease,
6. 5.32.6 |   By all the courteous meanes he could inuent,
6. 5.32.7 |   Somewhile with merry purpose fit to please,
6. 5.32.8 |   And otherwhile with good encouragement,
6. 5.32.9 | To make them to endure the pains, did them torment.

6. 5.33.1 | Mongst which, \Serena\ did to him relate
6. 5.33.2 |   The foule discourt'sies and vnknightly parts,
6. 5.33.3 |   Which \Turpine\ had vnto her shewed late,
6. 5.33.4 |   Without compassion of her cruell smarts,
6. 5.33.5 |   Although \Blandina\ did with all her arts
6. 5.33.6 |   Him otherwise perswade, all that she might;
6. 5.33.7 |   Yet he of malice, without her desarts,
6. 5.33.8 |   Not onely her excluded late at night,
6. 5.33.9 | But also trayterously did wound her weary Knight.

6. 5.34.1 | Wherewith the Prince sore moued, there auoud,
6. 5.34.2 |   That soone as he returned backe againe,
6. 5.34.3 |   He would auenge th'=abuses of that proud
6. 5.34.4 |   And shamefull Knight, of whom she did complaine.
6. 5.34.5 |   This wize did they each other entertaine,
6. 5.34.6 |   To passe the tedious trauell of the way;
6. 5.34.7 |   Till towards night they came vnto a plaine,
6. 5.34.8 |   By which a little Hermitage there lay,
6. 5.34.9 | Far from all neighbourhood, the which annoy it may.

6. 5.35.1 | And nigh thereto a little Chappell stoode,
6. 5.35.2 |   Which being all with Yuy ouerspred,
6. 5.35.3 |   Deckt all the roofe, and shadowing the roode,
6. 5.35.4 |   Seem'd like a groue faire braunched ouer hed:
6. 5.35.5 |   Therein the Hermite, which his life here led
6. 5.35.6 |   In streight obseruaunce of religious vow,
6. 5.35.7 |   Was wont his howres and holy things to bed;
6. 5.35.8 |   And therein he likewise was praying now,
6. 5.35.9 | Whenas these Knights arriu'd, they wist not where nor how.

6. 5.36.1 | They stayd not there, but streight way in did pas.
6. 5.36.2 |   Whom when the Hermite present saw in place,
6. 5.36.3 |   From his deuotion streight he troubled was;
6. 5.36.4 |   Which breaking off he toward them did pace,
6. 5.36.5 |   With stayed steps, and graue beseeming grace:
6. 5.36.6 |   For well it seem'd, that whilome he had beene
6. 5.36.7 |   Some goodly person, and of gentle race,
6. 5.36.8 |   That could his good to all, and well did weene,
6. 5.36.9 | How each to entertaine with curt'sie well beseene.

6. 5.37.1 | And soothly it was sayd by common fame,
6. 5.37.2 |   So long as age enabled him thereto,
6. 5.37.3 |   That he had bene a man of mickle name,
6. 5.37.4 |   Renowmed much in armes and derring doe:
6. 5.37.5 |   But being aged now and weary to
6. 5.37.6 |   Of warres delight, and worlds contentious toyle,
6. 5.37.7 |   The name of knighthood he did disauow,
6. 5.37.8 |   And hanging vp his armes and warlike spoyle,
6. 5.37.9 | From all this worlds incombraunce did himselfe assoyle.

6. 5.38.1 | He thence them led into his Hermitage,
6. 5.38.2 |   Letting their steedes to graze vpon the greene:
6. 5.38.3 |   Small was his house, and like a little cage,
6. 5.38.4 |   For his owne turne, yet inly neate and clene,
6. 5.38.5 |   Deckt with greene boughes, and flowers gay beseene.
6. 5.38.6 |   Therein he them full faire did entertaine
6. 5.38.7 |   Not with such forged showes, as fitter beene
6. 5.38.8 |   For courting fooles, that curtesies would faine,
6. 5.38.9 | But with entire affection and appearaunce plaine.

6. 5.39.1 | Yet was their fare but homely, such as hee
6. 5.39.2 |   Did vse, his feeble body to sustaine;
6. 5.39.3 |   The which full gladly they did take in glee,
6. 5.39.4 |   Such as it was, ne did of want complaine,
6. 5.39.5 |   But being well suffiz'd, them rested faine.
6. 5.39.6 |   But faire \Serene\ all night could take no rest,
6. 5.39.7 |   Ne yet that gentle Squire, for grieuous paine
6. 5.39.8 |   Of their late woundes, the which the \Blatant Beast\
6. 5.39.9 | Had giuen them, whose griefe through suffraunce sore increast.

6. 5.40.1 | So all that night they past in great disease,
6. 5.40.2 |   Till that the morning, bringing earely light
6. 5.40.3 |   To guide mens labours, brought them also ease,
6. 5.40.4 |   And some asswagement of their painefull plight.
6. 5.40.5 |   Then vp they rose, and gan them selues to dight
6. 5.40.6 |   Vnto their iourney; but that Squire and Dame
6. 5.40.7 |   So faint and feeble were, that they ne might
6. 5.40.8 |   Endure to trauell, nor one foote to frame:
6. 5.40.9 | Their hearts were sicke, their sides were sore, their feete were lame.

6. 5.41.1 | Therefore the Prince, whom great affaires in mynd
6. 5.41.2 |   Would not permit, to make there lenger stay,
6. 5.41.3 |   Was forced there to leaue them both behynd,
6. 5.41.4 |   In that good Hermits charge, whom he did pray
6. 5.41.5 |   To tend them well. So forth he went his way,
6. 5.41.6 |   And with him eke the saluage, that whyleare
6. 5.41.7 |   Seeing his royall vsage and array,
6. 5.41.8 |   Was greatly growne in loue of that braue pere,
6. 5.41.9 | Would needes depart, as shall declared be elsewhere.


6. 6. A.1 | \The Hermite heales both Squire and dame\
6. 6. A.2 |   \Of their sore maladies:\
6. 6. A.3 | \He Turpine doth defeate, and shame\
6. 6. A.4 |   \For his late villanies.\

6. 6. 1.1 | No wound, which warlike hand of enemy
6. 6. 1.2 |   Inflicts with dint of sword, so sore doth light,
6. 6. 1.3 |   As doth the poysnous sting, which infamy
6. 6. 1.4 |   Infixeth in the name of noble wight:
6. 6. 1.5 |   For by no art, nor any leaches might
6. 6. 1.6 |   It euer can recured be againe;
6. 6. 1.7 |   Ne all the skill, which that immortall spright
6. 6. 1.8 |   Of \Podalyrius\ did in it retaine,
6. 6. 1.9 | Can remedy such hurts; such hurts are hellish paine.

6. 6. 2.1 | Such were the wounds, the which that \Blatant Beast\
6. 6. 2.2 |   Made in the bodies of that Squire and Dame;
6. 6. 2.3 |   And being such, were now much more increast,
6. 6. 2.4 |   For want of taking heede vnto the same,
6. 6. 2.5 |   That now corrupt and curelesse they became.
6. 6. 2.6 |   Howbe that carefull Hermite did his best,
6. 6. 2.7 |   With many kindes of medicines meete, to tame
6. 6. 2.8 |   The poysnous humour, which did most infest
6. 6. 2.9 | Their ranckling wounds, and euery day them duely drest.

6. 6. 3.1 | For he right well in Leaches craft was seene,
6. 6. 3.2 |   And through the long experience of his dayes,
6. 6. 3.3 |   Which had in many fortunes tossed beene,
6. 6. 3.4 |   And past through many perillous assayes,
6. 6. 3.5 |   He knew the diuerse went of mortall wayes,
6. 6. 3.6 |   And in the mindes of men had great insight;
6. 6. 3.7 |   Which with sage counsell, when they went astray,
6. 6. 3.8 |   He could enforme, and them reduce aright,
6. 6. 3.9 | And al the passions heale, which wound the weaker spright.

6. 6. 4.1 | For whylome he had bene a doughty Knight,
6. 6. 4.2 |   As any one, that liued in his daies,
6. 6. 4.3 |   And proued oft in many perillous fight,
6. 6. 4.4 |   Of which he grace and glory wonne alwaies,
6. 6. 4.5 |   And in all battels bore away the baies.
6. 6. 4.6 |   But being now attacht with timely age,
6. 6. 4.7 |   And weary of this worlds vnquiet waies,
6. 6. 4.8 |   He tooke him selfe vnto this Hermitage,
6. 6. 4.9 | In which he liu'd alone, like carelesse bird in cage.

6. 6. 5.1 | One day, as he was searching of their wounds,
6. 6. 5.2 |   He found that they had festred priuily,
6. 6. 5.3 |   And ranckling inward with vnruly stounds,
6. 6. 5.4 |   The inner parts now gan to putrify,
6. 6. 5.5 |   That quite they seem'd past helpe of surgery,
6. 6. 5.6 |   And rather needed to be disciplinde
6. 6. 5.7 |   With holesome reede of sad sobriety,
6. 6. 5.8 |   To rule the stubborne rage of passion blinde:
6. 6. 5.9 | Giue salues to euery sore, but counsell to the minde.

6. 6. 6.1 | So taking them apart into his cell,
6. 6. 6.2 |   He to that point fit speaches gan to frame,
6. 6. 6.3 |   As he the art of words knew wondrous well,
6. 6. 6.4 |   And eke could doe, as well as say the same,
6. 6. 6.5 |   And thus he to them sayd; Faire daughter Dame,
6. 6. 6.6 |   And you faire sonne, which here thus long now lie
6. 6. 6.7 |   In piteous languor, since ye hither came,
6. 6. 6.8 |   In vaine of me ye hope for remedie,
6. 6. 6.9 | And I likewise in vaine doe salues to you applie.

6. 6. 7.1 | For in your selfe your onely helpe doth lie,
6. 6. 7.2 |   To heale your selues, and must proceed alone
6. 6. 7.3 |   From your owne will, to cure your maladie.
6. 6. 7.4 |   Who can him cure, that will be cur'd of none?
6. 6. 7.5 |   If therefore health ye seeke, obserue this one.
6. 6. 7.6 |   First learne your outward sences to refraine
6. 6. 7.7 |   From things, that stirre vp fraile affection;
6. 6. 7.8 |   Your eies, your eares, your tongue, your talk restraine
6. 6. 7.9 | From that they most affect, and in due termes containe.

6. 6. 8.1 | For from those outward sences ill affected,
6. 6. 8.2 |   The seede of all this euill first doth spring,
6. 6. 8.3 |   Which at the first before it had infected,
6. 6. 8.4 |   Mote easie be supprest with little thing:
6. 6. 8.5 |   But being growen strong, it forth doth bring
6. 6. 8.6 |   Sorrow, and anguish, and impatient paine
6. 6. 8.7 |   In th'=inner parts, and lastly scattering
6. 6. 8.8 |   Contagious poyson close through euery vaine,
6. 6. 8.9 | It neuer rests, till it haue wrought his finall bane.

6. 6. 9.1 | For that beastes teeth, which wounded you tofore,
6. 6. 9.2 |   Are so exceeding venemous and keene,
6. 6. 9.3 |   Made all of rusty yron, ranckling sore,
6. 6. 9.4 |   That where they bite, it booteth not to weene
6. 6. 9.5 |   With salue, or antidote, or other mene
6. 6. 9.6 |   It euer to amend: ne maruaile ought;
6. 6. 9.7 |   For that same beast was bred of hellish strene,
6. 6. 9.8 |   And long in darksome \Stygian\ den vpbrought,
6. 6. 9.9 | Begot of foule \Echidna\, as in bookes is taught.

6. 6.10.1 | \Echidna\ is a Monster direfull dred,
6. 6.10.2 |   Whom Gods doe hate, and heauens abhor to see;
6. 6.10.3 |   So hideous is her shape, so huge her hed,
6. 6.10.4 |   That euen the hellish fiends affrighted bee
6. 6.10.5 |   At sight thereof, and from her presence flee:
6. 6.10.6 |   Yet did her face and former parts professe
6. 6.10.7 |   A faire young Mayden, full of comely glee;
6. 6.10.8 |   But all her hinder parts did plaine expresse
6. 6.10.9 | A monstrous Dragon, full of fearefull vglinesse.

6. 6.11.1 | To her the Gods, for her so dreadfull face,
6. 6.11.2 |   In fearefull darkenesse, furthest from the skie,
6. 6.11.3 |   And from the earth, appointed haue her place,
6. 6.11.4 |   Mongst rocks and caues, where she enrold doth lie
6. 6.11.5 |   In hideous horrour and obscurity,
6. 6.11.6 |   Wasting the strength of her immortall age.
6. 6.11.7 |   There did \Typhaon\ with her company,
6. 6.11.8 |   Cruell \Typhaon\, whose tempestuous rage
6. 6.11.9 | Make th'=heauens tremble oft, and him with vowes asswage.

6. 6.12.1 | Of that commixtion they did then beget
6. 6.12.2 |   This hellish Dog, that hight the \Blatant Beast\;
6. 6.12.3 |   A wicked Monster, that his tongue doth whet
6. 6.12.4 |   Gainst all, both good and bad, both most and least,
6. 6.12.5 |   And poures his poysnous gall forth to infest
6. 6.12.6 |   The noblest wights with notable defame:
6. 6.12.7 |   Ne euer Knight, that bore so lofty creast,
6. 6.12.8 |   Ne euer Lady of so honest name,
6. 6.12.9 | But he them spotted with reproch, or secrete shame.

6. 6.13.1 | In vaine therefore it were, with medicine
6. 6.13.2 |   To goe about to salue such kynd of sore,
6. 6.13.3 |   That rather needes wise read and discipline,
6. 6.13.4 |   Then outward salues, that may augment it more.
6. 6.13.5 |   Aye me (sayd then \Serena\ sighing sore)
6. 6.13.6 |   What hope of helpe doth then for vs remaine,
6. 6.13.7 |   If that no salues may vs to health restore?
6. 6.13.8 |   But sith we need good counsell (sayd the swaine)
6. 6.13.9 | Aread good sire, some counsell, that may vs sustaine.

6. 6.14.1 | The best (sayd he) that I can you aduize,
6. 6.14.2 |   Is to auoide the occasion of the ill:
6. 6.14.3 |   For when the cause, whence euill doth arize,
6. 6.14.4 |   Remoued is, th'=effect surceaseth still.
6. 6.14.5 |   Abstaine from pleasure, and restraine your will,
6. 6.14.6 |   Subdue desire, and bridle loose delight,
6. 6.14.7 |   Vse scanted diet, and forbeare your fill,
6. 6.14.8 |   Shun secresie, and talke in open sight:
6. 6.14.9 | So shall you soone repaire your present euill plight.

6. 6.15.1 | Thus hauing sayd, his sickely patients
6. 6.15.2 |   Did gladly hearken to his graue beheast,
6. 6.15.3 |   And kept so well his wise commaundements,
6. 6.15.4 |   That in short space their malady was ceast,
6. 6.15.5 |   And eke the biting of that harmefull Beast
6. 6.15.6 |   Was throughly heal'd. Tho when they did perceaue
6. 6.15.7 |   Their wounds recur'd, and forces reincreast,
6. 6.15.8 |   Of that good Hermite both they tooke their leaue,
6. 6.15.9 | And went both on their way, ne ech would other leaue.

6. 6.16.1 | But each the other vow'd t'=accompany,
6. 6.16.2 |   The Lady, for that she was much in dred,
6. 6.16.3 |   Now left alone in great extremity,
6. 6.16.4 |   The Squire, for that he courteous was indeed,
6. 6.16.5 |   Would not her leaue alone in her great need.
6. 6.16.6 |   So both together traueld, till they met
6. 6.16.7 |   With a faire Mayden clad in mourning weed,
6. 6.16.8 |   Vpon a mangy iade vnmeetely set,
6. 6.16.9 | And a lewd foole her leading thorough dry and wet.

6. 6.17.1 | But by what meanes that shame to her befell,
6. 6.17.2 |   And how thereof her selfe she did acquite,
6. 6.17.3 |   I must a while forbeare to you to tell;
6. 6.17.4 |   Till that, as comes by course, I doe recite,
6. 6.17.5 |   What fortune to the Briton Prince did lite,
6. 6.17.6 |   Pursuing that proud Knight, the which whileare
6. 6.17.7 |   Wrought to Sir \Calidore\ so foule despight;
6. 6.17.8 |   And eke his Lady, though she sickely were,
6. 6.17.9 | So lewdly had abusde, as ye did lately heare.

6. 6.18.1 | The Prince according to the former token,
6. 6.18.2 |   Which faire \Serene\ to him deliuered had,
6. 6.18.3 |   Pursu'd him streight, in mynd to bene ywroken
6. 6.18.4 |   Of all the vile demeane, and vsage bad,
6. 6.18.5 |   With which he had those two so ill bestad:
6. 6.18.6 |   Ne wight with him on that aduenture went,
6. 6.18.7 |   But that wylde man, whom though he oft forbad,
6. 6.18.8 |   Yet for no bidding, nor for being shent,
6. 6.18.9 | Would he restrayned be from his attendement.

6. 6.19.1 | Arriuing there, as did by chaunce befall,
6. 6.19.2 |   He found the gate wyde ope, and in he rode,
6. 6.19.3 |   Ne stayd, till that he came into the hall:
6. 6.19.4 |   Where soft dismounting like a weary lode,
6. 6.19.5 |   Vpon the ground with feeble feete he trode,
6. 6.19.6 |   As he vnable were for very neede
6. 6.19.7 |   To moue one foote, but there must make abode;
6. 6.19.8 |   The whiles the saluage man did take his steede,
6. 6.19.9 | And in some stable neare did set him vp to feede.

6. 6.20.1 | Ere long to him a homely groome there came,
6. 6.20.2 |   That in rude wise him asked, what he was,
6. 6.20.3 |   That durst so boldly, without let or shame,
6. 6.20.4 |   Into his Lords forbidden hall to passe.
6. 6.20.5 |   To whom the Prince, him fayning to embase,
6. 6.20.6 |   Mylde answer made; he was an errant Knight,
6. 6.20.7 |   The which was fall'n into this feeble case,
6. 6.20.8 |   Through many wounds, which lately he in fight
6. 6.20.9 | Receiued had, and prayd to pitty his ill plight.

6. 6.21.1 | But he, the more outrageous and bold,
6. 6.21.2 |   Sternely did bid him quickely thence auaunt,
6. 6.21.3 |   Or deare aby, for why his Lord of old
6. 6.21.4 |   Did hate all errant Knights, which there did haunt,
6. 6.21.5 |   Ne lodging would to any of them graunt,
6. 6.21.6 |   And therefore lightly bad him packe away,
6. 6.21.7 |   Not sparing him with bitter words to taunt;
6. 6.21.8 |   And therewithall rude hand on him did lay,
6. 6.21.9 | To thrust him out of dore, doing his worst assay.

6. 6.22.1 | Which when the Saluage comming now in place,
6. 6.22.2 |   Beheld, eftsoones he all enraged grew,
6. 6.22.3 |   And running streight vpon that villaine base,
6. 6.22.4 |   Like a fell Lion at him fiercely flew,
6. 6.22.5 |   And with his teeth and nailes, in present vew,
6. 6.22.6 |   Him rudely rent, and all to peeces tore:
6. 6.22.7 |   So miserably him all helpelesse slew,
6. 6.22.8 |   That with the noise, whilest he did loudly rore,
6. 6.22.9 | The people of the house rose forth in great vprore.

6. 6.23.1 | Who when on ground they saw their fellow slaine,
6. 6.23.2 |   And that same Knight and Saluage standing by,
6. 6.23.3 |   Vpon them two they fell with might and maine,
6. 6.23.4 |   And on them layd so huge and horribly,
6. 6.23.5 |   As if they would haue slaine them presently.
6. 6.23.6 |   But the bold Prince defended him so well,
6. 6.23.7 |   And their assault withstood so mightily,
6. 6.23.8 |   That maugre all their might, he did repell,
6. 6.23.9 | And beat them back, whilest many vnderneath him fell.

6. 6.24.1 | Yet he them still so sharpely did pursew,
6. 6.24.2 |   That few of them he left aliue, which fled,
6. 6.24.3 |   Those euill tidings to their Lord to shew.
6. 6.24.4 |   Who hearing how his people badly sped,
6. 6.24.5 |   Came forth in hast: where when as with the dead
6. 6.24.6 |   He saw the ground all strow'd, and that same Knight
6. 6.24.7 |   And saluage with their bloud fresh steeming red,
6. 6.24.8 |   He woxe nigh mad with wrath and fell despight,
6. 6.24.9 | And with reprochfull words him thus bespake on hight.

6. 6.25.1 | Art thou he, traytor, that with treason vile,
6. 6.25.2 |   Hast slaine my men in this vnmanly maner,
6. 6.25.3 |   And now triumphest in the piteous spoile
6. 6.25.4 |   Of these poore folk, whose soules with black dishonor
6. 6.25.5 |   And foule defame doe decke thy bloudy baner?
6. 6.25.6 |   The meede whereof shall shortly be thy shame,
6. 6.25.7 |   And wretched end, which still attendeth on her.
6. 6.25.8 |   With that him selfe to battell he did frame;
6. 6.25.9 | So did his forty yeomen, which there with him came.

6. 6.26.1 | With dreadfull force they all did him assaile,
6. 6.26.2 |   And round about with boystrous strokes oppresse,
6. 6.26.3 |   That on his shield did rattle like to haile
6. 6.26.4 |   In a great tempest; that in such distresse,
6. 6.26.5 |   He wist not to which side him to addresse.
6. 6.26.6 |   And euermore that crauen cowherd Knight
6. 6.26.7 |   Was at his backe with heartlesse heedinesse,
6. 6.26.8 |   Wayting if he vnwares him murther might:
6. 6.26.9 | For cowardize doth still in villany delight.

6. 6.27.1 | Whereof whenas the Prince was well aware,
6. 6.27.2 |   He to him turnd with furious intent,
6. 6.27.3 |   And him against his powre gan to prepare;
6. 6.27.4 |   Like a fierce Bull, that being busie bent
6. 6.27.5 |   To fight with many foes about him ment,
6. 6.27.6 |   Feeling some curre behinde his heeles to bite,
6. 6.27.7 |   Turnes him about with fell auengement;
6. 6.27.8 |   So likewise turnde the Prince vpon the Knight,
6. 6.27.9 | And layd at him amaine with all his will and might.

6. 6.28.1 | Who when he once his dreadfull strokes had tasted,
6. 6.28.2 |   Durst not the furie of his force abyde,
6. 6.28.3 |   But turn'd abacke, and to retyre him hasted
6. 6.28.4 |   Through the thick prease, there thinking him to hyde.
6. 6.28.5 |   But when the Prince had once him plainely eyde,
6. 6.28.6 |   He foot by foot him followed alway,
6. 6.28.7 |   Ne would him suffer once to shrinke asyde
6. 6.28.8 |   But ioyning close, huge lode at him did lay:
6. 6.28.9 | Who flying still did ward, and warding fly away.

6. 6.29.1 | But when his foe he still so eger saw,
6. 6.29.2 |   Vnto his heeles himselfe he did betake,
6. 6.29.3 |   Hoping vnto some refuge to withdraw:
6. 6.29.4 |   Ne would the Prince him euer foot forsake,
6. 6.29.5 |   Where so he went, but after him did make.
6. 6.29.6 |   He fled from roome to roome, from place to place,
6. 6.29.7 |   Whylest euery ioynt for dread of death did quake,
6. 6.29.8 |   Still looking after him, that did him chace;
6. 6.29.9 | That made him euermore increase his speedie pace.

6. 6.30.1 | At last he vp into the chamber came,
6. 6.30.2 |   Whereas his loue was sitting all alone,
6. 6.30.3 |   Wayting what tydings of her folke became.
6. 6.30.4 |   There did the Prince him ouertake anone,
6. 6.30.5 |   Crying in vaine to her, him to bemone;
6. 6.30.6 |   And with his sword him on the head did smyte,
6. 6.30.7 |   That to the ground he fell in senselesse swone:
6. 6.30.8 |   Yet whether thwart or flatly it did lyte,
6. 6.30.9 | The tempred steele did not into his braynepan byte.

6. 6.31.1 | Which when the Ladie saw, with great affright
6. 6.31.2 |   She starting vp, began to shrieke aloud,
6. 6.31.3 |   And with her garment couering him from sight,
6. 6.31.4 |   Seem'd vnder her protection him to shroud;
6. 6.31.5 |   And falling lowly at his feet, her bowd
6. 6.31.6 |   Vpon her knee, intreating him for grace,
6. 6.31.7 |   And often him besought, and prayd, and vowd;
6. 6.31.8 |   That with the ruth of her so wretched case,
6. 6.31.9 | He stayd his second strooke, and did his hand abase.

6. 6.32.1 | Her weed she then withdrawing, did him discouer,
6. 6.32.2 |   Who now come to himselfe, yet would not rize,
6. 6.32.3 |   But still did lie as dead, and quake, and quiuer,
6. 6.32.4 |   That euen the Prince his basenesse did despize,
6. 6.32.5 |   And eke his Dame him seeing in such guize,
6. 6.32.6 |   Gan him recomfort, and from ground to reare.
6. 6.32.7 |   Who rising vp at last in ghastly wize,
6. 6.32.8 |   Like troubled ghost did dreadfully appeare,
6. 6.32.9 | As one that had no life him left through former feare.

6. 6.33.1 | Whom when the Prince so deadly saw dismayd,
6. 6.33.2 |   He for such basenesse shamefully him shent,
6. 6.33.3 |   And with sharpe words did bitterly vpbrayd;
6. 6.33.4 |   Vile cowheard dogge, now doe I much repent,
6. 6.33.5 |   That euer I this life vnto thee lent,
6. 6.33.6 |   Whereof thou caytiue so vnworthie art;
6. 6.33.7 |   That both thy loue, for lacke of hardiment,
6. 6.33.8 |   And eke thy selfe, for want of manly hart,
6. 6.33.9 | And eke all knights hast shamed with this knightlesse part.

6. 6.34.1 | Yet further hast thou heaped shame to shame,
6. 6.34.2 |   And crime to crime, by this thy cowheard feare.
6. 6.34.3 |   For first it was to thee reprochfull blame,
6. 6.34.4 |   To erect this wicked custome, which I heare,
6. 6.34.5 |   Gainst errant Knights and Ladies thou dost reare;
6. 6.34.6 |   Whom when thou mayst, thou dost of arms despoile,
6. 6.34.7 |   Or of their vpper garment, which they weare:
6. 6.34.8 |   Yet doest thou not with manhood, but with guile
6. 6.34.9 | Maintaine this euill vse, thy foes thereby to foile.

6. 6.35.1 | And lastly in approuance of thy wrong,
6. 6.35.2 |   To shew such faintnesse and foule cowardize,
6. 6.35.3 |   Is greatest shame: for oft it falles, that strong
6. 6.35.4 |   And valiant knights doe rashly enterprize,
6. 6.35.5 |   Either for fame, or else for exercize,
6. 6.35.6 |   A wrongfull quarrell to maintaine by fight;
6. 6.35.7 |   Yet haue, through prowesse and their braue emprize,
6. 6.35.8 |   Gotten great worship in this worldes sight.
6. 6.35.9 | For greater force there needs to maintaine wrong, then right.

6. 6.36.1 | Yet since thy life vnto this Ladie fayre
6. 6.36.2 |   I giuen haue, liue in reproch and scorne;
6. 6.36.3 |   Ne euer armes, ne euer knighthood dare
6. 6.36.4 |   Hence to professe: for shame is to adorne
6. 6.36.5 |   With so braue badges one so basely borne;
6. 6.36.6 |   But onely breath sith that I did forgiue.
6. 6.36.7 |   So hauing from his crauen bodie torne
6. 6.36.8 |   Those goodly armes, he them away did giue
6. 6.36.9 | And onely suffred him this wretched life to liue.

6. 6.37.1 | There whilest he thus was setling things aboue,
6. 6.37.2 |   Atwene that Ladie myld and recreant knight,
6. 6.37.3 |   To whom his life he graunted for her loue,
6. 6.37.4 |   He gan bethinke him, in what perilous plight
6. 6.37.5 |   He had behynd him left that saluage wight,
6. 6.37.6 |   Amongst so many foes, whom sure he thought
6. 6.37.7 |   By this quite slaine in so vnequall fight:
6. 6.37.8 |   Therefore descending backe in haste, he sought
6. 6.37.9 | If yet he were aliue, or to destruction brought.

6. 6.38.1 | There he him found enuironed about
6. 6.38.2 |   With slaughtred bodies, which his hand had slaine,
6. 6.38.3 |   And laying yet a fresh with courage stout
6. 6.38.4 |   Vpon the rest, that did aliue remaine;
6. 6.38.5 |   Whom he likewise right sorely did constraine,
6. 6.38.6 |   Like scattred sheepe, to seeke for safetie,
6. 6.38.7 |   After he gotten had with busie paine
6. 6.38.8 |   Some of their weapons, which thereby did lie,
6. 6.38.9 | With which he layd about, and made them fast to flie.

6. 6.39.1 | Whom when the Prince so felly saw to rage,
6. 6.39.2 |   Approching to him neare, his hand he stayd,
6. 6.39.3 |   And sought, by making signes, him to asswage:
6. 6.39.4 |   Whom them perceiuing, streight to him obayd,
6. 6.39.5 |   As to his Lord, and downe his weapons layd,
6. 6.39.6 |   As if he long had to his heasts bene trayned.
6. 6.39.7 |   Thence he him brought away, and vp conuayd
6. 6.39.8 |   Into the chamber, where that Dame remayned
6. 6.39.9 | With her vnworthy knight, who ill him entertayned.

6. 6.40.1 | Whom when the Saluage saw from daunger free,
6. 6.40.2 |   Sitting beside his Ladie there at ease,
6. 6.40.3 |   He well remembred, that the same was hee,
6. 6.40.4 |   Which lately sought his Lord for to displease:
6. 6.40.5 |   Tho all in rage, he on him streight did seaze,
6. 6.40.6 |   As if he would in peeces him haue rent;
6. 6.40.7 |   And were not, that the Prince did him appeaze,
6. 6.40.8 |   He had not left one limbe of him vnrent:
6. 6.40.9 | But streight he held his hand at his commaundement.

6. 6.41.1 | Thus hauing all things well in peace ordayned,
6. 6.41.2 |   The Prince himselfe there all that night did rest,
6. 6.41.3 |   Where him \Blandina\ fayrely entertayned,
6. 6.41.4 |   With all the courteous glee and goodly feast,
6. 6.41.5 |   The which for him she could imagine best.
6. 6.41.6 |   For well she knew the wayes to win good will
6. 6.41.7 |   Of euery wight, that were not too infest,
6. 6.41.8 |   And how to please the minds of good and ill,
6. 6.41.9 | Through tempering of her words and lookes by wondrous skill.

6. 6.42.1 | Yet were her words and lookes but false and fayned,
6. 6.42.2 |   To some hid end to make more easie way,
6. 6.42.3 |   Or to allure such fondlings, whom she trayned
6. 6.42.4 |   Into her trap vnto their owne decay:
6. 6.42.5 |   Thereto, when needed, she could weepe and pray,
6. 6.42.6 |   And when her listed, she could fawne and flatter;
6. 6.42.7 |   Now smyling smoothly, like to sommers day,
6. 6.42.8 |   Now glooming sadly, so to cloke her matter;
6. 6.42.9 | Yet were her words but wynd, and all her teares but water.

6. 6.43.1 | Whether such grace were giuen her by kynd,
6. 6.43.2 |   As women wont their guilefull wits to guyde;
6. 6.43.3 |   Or learn'd the art to please, I doe not fynd.
6. 6.43.4 |   This well I wote, that she so well applyde
6. 6.43.5 |   Her pleasing tongue, that soone she pacifyde
6. 6.43.6 |   The wrathfull Prince, and wrought her husbands peace.
6. 6.43.7 |   Who nathelesse not therewith satisfyde,
6. 6.43.8 |   His rancorous despight did not releasse,
6. 6.43.9 | Ne secretly from thought of fell reuenge surceasse.

6. 6.44.1 | For all that night, the whyles the Prince did rest
6. 6.44.2 |   In carelesse couch, not weeting what was ment,
6. 6.44.3 |   He watcht in close awayt with weapons prest,
6. 6.44.4 |   Willing to worke his villenous intent
6. 6.44.5 |   On him, that had so shamefully him shent:
6. 6.44.6 |   Yet durst he not for very cowardize
6. 6.44.7 |   Effect the same, whylest all the night was spent.
6. 6.44.8 |   The morrow next the Prince did early rize,
6. 6.44.9 | And passed forth, to follow his first enterprize.


6. 7. A.1 | \Turpine is baffuld, his two knights\
6. 7. A.2 |   \doe gaine their treasons meed,\
6. 7. A.3 | \Fayre Mirabellaes punishment\
6. 7. A.4 |   \for loues disdaine decreed.\

6. 7. 1.1 | Like as the gentle hart it selfe bewrayes,
6. 7. 1.2 |   In doing gentle deedes with franke delight,
6. 7. 1.3 |   Euen so the baser mind it selfe displayes,
6. 7. 1.4 |   In cancred malice and reuengefull spright.
6. 7. 1.5 |   For to maligne, t'=enuie, t'=vse shifting slight,
6. 7. 1.6 |   Be arguments of a vile donghill mind,
6. 7. 1.7 |   Which what it dare not doe by open might,
6. 7. 1.8 |   To worke by wicked treason wayes doth find,
6. 7. 1.9 | By such discourteous deeds discouering his base kind.

6. 7. 2.1 | That well appeares in this discourteous knight,
6. 7. 2.2 |   The coward \Turpine\, whereof now I treat;
6. 7. 2.3 |   Who notwithstanding that in former fight
6. 7. 2.4 |   He of the Prince his life receiued late,
6. 7. 2.5 |   Yet in his mind malitious and ingrate
6. 7. 2.6 |   He gan deuize, to be aueng'd anew
6. 7. 2.7 |   For all that shame, which kindled inward hate.
6. 7. 2.8 |   Therefore so soone as he was out of vew,
6. 7. 2.9 | Himselfe in hast he arm'd, and did him fast pursew.

6. 7. 3.1 | Well did he tract his steps, as he did ryde,
6. 7. 3.2 |   Yet would not neare approch in daungers eye,
6. 7. 3.3 |   But kept aloofe for dread to be descryde,
6. 7. 3.4 |   Vntill fit time and place he mote espy,
6. 7. 3.5 |   Where he mote worke him scath and villeny.
6. 7. 3.6 |   At last he met two knights to him vnknowne,
6. 7. 3.7 |   The which were armed both agreeably,
6. 7. 3.8 |   And both combynd, what euer chaunce were blowne,
6. 7. 3.9 | Betwixt them to diuide, and each to make his owne.

6. 7. 4.1 | To whom false \Turpine\ comming courteously,
6. 7. 4.2 |   To cloke the mischiefe, which he inly ment,
6. 7. 4.3 |   Gan to complaine of great discourtesie,
6. 7. 4.4 |   Which a straunge knight, that neare afore him went,
6. 7. 4.5 |   Had doen to him, and his deare Ladie shent:
6. 7. 4.6 |   Which if they would afford him ayde at need
6. 7. 4.7 |   For to auenge, in time conuenient,
6. 7. 4.8 |   They should accomplish both a knightly deed,
6. 7. 4.9 | And for their paines obtaine of him a goodly meed.

6. 7. 5.1 | The knights beleeu'd, that all he sayd, was trew,
6. 7. 5.2 |   And being fresh and full of youthly spright,
6. 7. 5.3 |   Were glad to heare of that aduenture new,
6. 7. 5.4 |   In which they mote make triall of their might,
6. 7. 5.5 |   Which neuer yet they had approu'd in fight;
6. 7. 5.6 |   And eke desirous of the offred meed,
6. 7. 5.7 |   Said then the one of them; Where is that wight,
6. 7. 5.8 |   The which hath doen to thee this wrongfull deed,
6. 7. 5.9 | That we may it auenge, and punish him with speed?

6. 7. 6.1 | He rides (said \Turpine\) there not farre afore,
6. 7. 6.2 |   With a wyld man soft footing by his syde,
6. 7. 6.3 |   That if ye list to haste a litle more,
6. 7. 6.4 |   Ye may him ouertake in timely tyde.
6. 7. 6.5 |   Eftsoones they pricked forth with forward pryde,
6. 7. 6.6 |   And ere that litle while they ridden had,
6. 7. 6.7 |   The gentle Prince not farre away they spyde,
6. 7. 6.8 |   Ryding a softly pace with portance sad,
6. 7. 6.9 | Deuizing of his loue more, then of daunger drad.

6. 7. 7.1 | Then one of them aloud vnto him cryde,
6. 7. 7.2 |   Bidding him turne againe, false traytour knight,
6. 7. 7.3 |   Foule womanwronger, for he him defyde.
6. 7. 7.4 |   With that they both at once with equall spight
6. 7. 7.5 |   Did bend their speares, and both with equall might
6. 7. 7.6 |   Against him ran; but th'=one did misse his marke,
6. 7. 7.7 |   And being carried with his force forthright,
6. 7. 7.8 |   Glaunst swiftly by; like to that heauenly sparke,
6. 7. 7.9 | Which glyding through the ayre lights all the heauens darke.

6. 7. 8.1 | But th'=other ayming better, did him smite
6. 7. 8.2 |   Full in the shield, with so impetuous powre,
6. 7. 8.3 |   That all his launce in peeces shiuered quite,
6. 7. 8.4 |   And scattered all about, fell on the flowre.
6. 7. 8.5 |   But the stout Prince, with much more steddy stowre
6. 7. 8.6 |   Full on his beuer did him strike so sore,
6. 7. 8.7 |   That the cold steele through piercing, did deuowre
6. 7. 8.8 |   His vitall breath, and to the ground him bore,
6. 7. 8.9 | Where still he bathed lay in his owne bloody gore.

6. 7. 9.1 | As when a cast of Faulcons make their flight
6. 7. 9.2 |   At an Herneshaw, that lyes aloft on wing,
6. 7. 9.3 |   The whyles they strike at him with heedlesse might,
6. 7. 9.4 |   The warie foule his bill doth backward wring;
6. 7. 9.5 |   On which the first, whose force her first doth bring,
6. 7. 9.6 |   Her selfe quite through the bodie doth engore,
6. 7. 9.7 |   And falleth downe to ground like senselesse thing,
6. 7. 9.8 |   But th'=other not so swift, as she before,
6. 7. 9.9 | Fayles of her souse, and passing by doth hurt no more.

6. 7.10.1 | By this the other, which was passed by,
6. 7.10.2 |   Himselfe recouering, was return'd to fight;
6. 7.10.3 |   Where when he saw his fellow lifelesse ly,
6. 7.10.4 |   He much was daunted with so dismall sight;
6. 7.10.5 |   Yet nought abating of his former spight,
6. 7.10.6 |   Let driue at him with so malitious mynd,
6. 7.10.7 |   As if he would haue passed through him quight:
6. 7.10.8 |   But the steele-head no stedfast hold could fynd,
6. 7.10.9 | But glauncing by, deceiu'd him of that he desynd.

6. 7.11.1 | Not so the Prince: for his well learned speare
6. 7.11.2 |   Tooke surer hould, and from his horses backe
6. 7.11.3 |   Aboue a launces length him forth did beare,
6. 7.11.4 |   And gainst the cold hard earth so sore him strake,
6. 7.11.5 |   That all his bones in peeces nigh he brake.
6. 7.11.6 |   Where seeing him so lie, he left his steed,
6. 7.11.7 |   And to him leaping, vengeance thought to take
6. 7.11.8 |   Of him, for all his former follies meed,
6. 7.11.9 | With flaming sword in hand his terror more to breed.

6. 7.12.1 | The fearefull swayne beholding death so nie,
6. 7.12.2 |   Cryde out aloud for mercie him to saue;
6. 7.12.3 |   In lieu whereof he would to him descrie,
6. 7.12.4 |   Great treason to him meant, his life to reaue.
6. 7.12.5 |   The Prince soone hearkned, and his life forgaue.
6. 7.12.6 |   Then thus said he,  There is a straunger knight,
6. 7.12.7 |   The which for promise of great meed, vs draue
6. 7.12.8 |   To this attempt, to wreake his hid despight,
6. 7.12.9 | For that himselfe thereto did want sufficient might.

6. 7.13.1 | The Prince much mused at such villenie,
6. 7.13.2 |   And sayd; Now sure ye well haue earn'd your meed,
6. 7.13.3 |   For th'=one is dead, and th'=other soone shall die,
6. 7.13.4 |   Vnlesse to me thou hether bring with speed
6. 7.13.5 |   The wretch, that hyr'd you to this wicked deed.
6. 7.13.6 |   He glad of life, and willing eke to wreake
6. 7.13.7 |   The guilt on him, which did this mischiefe breed,
6. 7.13.8 |   Swore by his sword, that neither day nor weeke
6. 7.13.9 | He would surceasse, but him, where so he were, would seeke.

6. 7.14.1 | So vp he rose, and forth streight way he went
6. 7.14.2 |   Backe to the place, where \Turpine\ late he lore;
6. 7.14.3 |   There he him found in great astonishment,
6. 7.14.4 |   To see him so bedight with bloodie gore,
6. 7.14.5 |   And griesly wounds that him appalled sore.
6. 7.14.6 |   Yet thus at length he said, How now Sir knight?
6. 7.14.7 |   What meaneth this, which here I see before?
6. 7.14.8 |   How fortuneth this foule vncomely plight,
6. 7.14.9 | So different from that, which earst ye seem'd in sight?

6. 7.15.1 | Perdie (said he) in euill houre it fell,
6. 7.15.2 |   That euer I for meed did vndertake
6. 7.15.3 |   So hard a taske, as life for hyre to sell;
6. 7.15.4 |   The which I earst aduentur'd for your sake.
6. 7.15.5 |   Witnesse the wounds, and this wyde bloudie lake,
6. 7.15.6 |   Which ye may see yet all about me steeme.
6. 7.15.7 |   Therefore now yeeld, as ye did promise make,
6. 7.15.8 |   My due reward, the which right well I deeme
6. 7.15.9 | I yearned haue, that life so dearely did redeeme.

6. 7.16.1 | But where then is (quoth he halfe wrothfully)
6. 7.16.2 |   Where is the bootie, which therefore I bought,
6. 7.16.3 |   That cursed caytiue, my strong enemy,
6. 7.16.4 |   That recreant knight, whose hated life I sought?
6. 7.16.5 |   And where is eke your friend, which halfe it ought?
6. 7.16.6 |   He lyes (said he) vpon the cold bare ground,
6. 7.16.7 |   Slayne of that errant knight, with whom he fought;
6. 7.16.8 |   Whom afterwards my selfe with many a wound
6. 7.16.9 | Did slay againe, as ye may see there in the stound.

6. 7.17.1 | Thereof false \Turpin\ was full glad and faine,
6. 7.17.2 |   And needs with him streight to the place would ryde,
6. 7.17.3 |   Where he himselfe might see his foeman slaine;
6. 7.17.4 |   For else his feare could not be satisfyde.
6. 7.17.5 |   So as they rode, he saw the way all dyde
6. 7.17.6 |   With streames of bloud; which tracting by the traile,
6. 7.17.7 |   Ere long they came, whereas in euill tyde
6. 7.17.8 |   That other swayne, like ashes deadly pale,
6. 7.17.9 | Lay in the lap of death, rewing his wretched bale.

6. 7.18.1 | Much did the Crauen seeme to mone his case,
6. 7.18.2 |   That for his sake his deare life had forgone;
6. 7.18.3 |   And him bewayling with affection base,
6. 7.18.4 |   Did counterfeit kind pittie, where was none:
6. 7.18.5 |   For wheres no courage, theres no ruth nor mone.
6. 7.18.6 |   Thence passing forth, not farre away he found,
6. 7.18.7 |   Whereas the Prince himselfe lay all alone,
6. 7.18.8 |   Loosely displayd vpon the grassie ground,
6. 7.18.9 | Possessed of sweete sleepe, that luld him soft in swound.

6. 7.19.1 | Wearie of trauell in his former fight,
6. 7.19.2 |   He there in shade himselfe had layd to rest,
6. 7.19.3 |   Hauing his armes and warlike things vndight,
6. 7.19.4 |   Fearelesse of foes that mote his peace molest;
6. 7.19.5 |   The whyles his saluage page, that wont be prest,
6. 7.19.6 |   Was wandred in the wood another way,
6. 7.19.7 |   To doe some thing, that seemed to him best,
6. 7.19.8 |   The whyles his Lord in siluer slomber lay,
6. 7.19.9 | Like to the Euening starre adorn'd with deawy ray.

6. 7.20.1 | Whom when as \Turpin\ saw so loosely layd,
6. 7.20.2 |   He weened well, that he in deed was dead,
6. 7.20.3 |   Like as that other knight to him had sayd:
6. 7.20.4 |   But when he nigh approcht, he mote aread
6. 7.20.5 |   Plaine signes in him of life and liuelihead.
6. 7.20.6 |   Whereat much grieu'd against that straunger knight,
6. 7.20.7 |   That him too light of credence did mislead,
6. 7.20.8 |   He would haue backe retyred from that sight,
6. 7.20.9 | That was to him on earth the deadliest despight.

6. 7.21.1 | But that same knight would not once let him start,
6. 7.21.2 |   But plainely gan to him declare the case
6. 7.21.3 |   Of all his mischiefe, and late lucklesse smart;
6. 7.21.4 |   How both he and his fellow there in place
6. 7.21.5 |   Were vanquished, and put to foule disgrace,
6. 7.21.6 |   And how that he in lieu of life him lent,
6. 7.21.7 |   Had vow'd vnto the victor, him to trace
6. 7.21.8 |   And follow through the world, where so he went,
6. 7.21.9 | Till that he him deliuered to his punishment.

6. 7.22.1 | He therewith much abashed and affrayd,
6. 7.22.2 |   Began to tremble euery limbe and vaine;
6. 7.22.3 |   And softly whispering him, entyrely prayd,
6. 7.22.4 |   T'=aduize him better, then by such a traine
6. 7.22.5 |   Him to betray vnto a straunger swaine:
6. 7.22.6 |   Yet rather counseld him contrarywize,
6. 7.22.7 |   Sith he likewise did wrong by him sustaine,
6. 7.22.8 |   To ioyne with him and vengeance to deuize,
6. 7.22.9 | Whylest time did offer meanes him sleeping to surprize.

6. 7.23.1 | Nathelesse for all his speach, the gentle knight
6. 7.23.2 |   Would not be tempted to such villenie,
6. 7.23.3 |   Regarding more his faith, which he did plight,
6. 7.23.4 |   All were it to his mortall enemie,
6. 7.23.5 |   Then to entrap him by false treacherie:
6. 7.23.6 |   Great shame in lieges blood to be embrew'd.
6. 7.23.7 |   Thus whylest they were debating diuerslie,
6. 7.23.8 |   The Saluage forth out of the wood issew'd
6. 7.23.9 | Backe to the place, whereas his Lord he sleeping vew'd.

6. 7.24.1 | There when he saw those two so neare him stand,
6. 7.24.2 |   He doubted much what mote their meaning bee,
6. 7.24.3 |   And throwing downe his load out of his hand,
6. 7.24.4 |   To weet great store of forrest frute, which hee
6. 7.24.5 |   Had for his food late gathered from the tree,
6. 7.24.6 |   Himselfe vnto his weapon he betooke,
6. 7.24.7 |   That was an oaken plant, which lately hee
6. 7.24.8 |   Rent by the root; which he so sternely shooke,
6. 7.24.9 | That like an hazell wand, it quiuered and quooke.

6. 7.25.1 | Whereat the Prince awaking, when he spyde
6. 7.25.2 |   The traytour \Turpin\ with that other knight,
6. 7.25.3 |   He started vp, and snatching neare his syde
6. 7.25.4 |   His trustie sword, the seruant of his might,
6. 7.25.5 |   Like a fell Lyon leaped to him light,
6. 7.25.6 |   And his left hand vpon his collar layd.
6. 7.25.7 |   Therewith the cowheard deaded with affright,
6. 7.25.8 |   Fell flat to ground, ne word vnto him sayd,
6. 7.25.9 | But holding vp his hands, with silence mercie prayd.

6. 7.26.1 | But he so full of indignation was,
6. 7.26.2 |   That to his prayer nought he would incline,
6. 7.26.3 |   But as he lay vpon the humbled gras,
6. 7.26.4 |   His foot he set on his vile necke, in signe
6. 7.26.5 |   Of seruile yoke, that nobler harts repine.
6. 7.26.6 |   Then letting him arise like abiect thrall,
6. 7.26.7 |   He gan to him obiect his haynous crime,
6. 7.26.8 |   And to reuile, and rate, and recreant call,
6. 7.26.9 | And lastly to despoyle of knightly bannerall.

6. 7.27.1 | And after all, for greater infamie,
6. 7.27.2 |   He by the heeles him hung vpon a tree,
6. 7.27.3 |   And baffuld so, that all which passed by,
6. 7.27.4 |   The picture of his punishment might see,
6. 7.27.5 |   And by the like ensample warned bee,
6. 7.27.6 |   How euer they through treason doe trespasse.
6. 7.27.7 |   But turne we now backe to that Ladie free,
6. 7.27.8 |   Whom late we left ryding vpon an Asse,
6. 7.27.9 | Led by a Carle and foole, which by her side did passe.

6. 7.28.1 | She was a Ladie of great dignitie,
6. 7.28.2 |   And lifted vp to honorable place,
6. 7.28.3 |   Famous through all the land of Faerie,
6. 7.28.4 |   Though of meane parentage and kindred base,
6. 7.28.5 |   Yet deckt with wondrous giftes of natures grace,
6. 7.28.6 |   That all men did her person much admire,
6. 7.28.7 |   And praise the feature of her goodly face,
6. 7.28.8 |   The beames whereof did kindle louely fire
6. 7.28.9 | In th'=harts of many a knight, and many a gentle squire.

6. 7.29.1 | But she thereof grew proud and insolent,
6. 7.29.2 |   That none she worthie thought to be her fere,
6. 7.29.3 |   But scornd them all, that loue vnto her ment,
6. 7.29.4 |   Yet was she lou'd of many a worthy pere,
6. 7.29.5 |   Vnworthy she to be belou'd so dere,
6. 7.29.6 |   That could not weigh of worthinesse aright.
6. 7.29.7 |   For beautie is more glorious bright and clere,
6. 7.29.8 |   The more it is admir'd of many a wight,
6. 7.29.9 | And noblest she, that serued is of noblest knight.

6. 7.30.1 | But this coy Damzell thought contrariwize,
6. 7.30.2 |   That such proud looks would make her praysed more;
6. 7.30.3 |   And that the more she did all loue despize,
6. 7.30.4 |   The more would wretched louers her adore.
6. 7.30.5 |   What cared she, who sighed for her sore,
6. 7.30.6 |   Or who did wayle or watch the wearie night?
6. 7.30.7 |   Let them that list, their lucklesse lot deplore;
6. 7.30.8 |   She was borne free, not bound to any wight,
6. 7.30.9 | And so would euer liue, and loue her owne delight.

6. 7.31.1 | Through such her stubborne stifnesse, and hard hart,
6. 7.31.2 |   Many a wretch, for want of remedie,
6. 7.31.3 |   Did languish long in lifeconsuming smart,
6. 7.31.4 |   And at the last through dreary dolour die:
6. 7.31.5 |   Whylest she, the Ladie of her libertie,
6. 7.31.6 |   Did boast her beautie had such soueraine might,
6. 7.31.7 |   That with the onely twinckle of her eye,
6. 7.31.8 |   She could or saue, or spill, whom she would hight.
6. 7.31.9 | What could the Gods doe more, but doe it more aright?

6. 7.32.1 | But loe the Gods, that mortall follies vew,
6. 7.32.2 |   Did worthily reuenge this maydens pryde;
6. 7.32.3 |   And nought regarding her so goodly hew,
6. 7.32.4 |   Did laugh at her, that many did deride,
6. 7.32.5 |   Whilest she did weepe, of no man mercifide.
6. 7.32.6 |   For on a day, when \Cupid\ kept his court,
6. 7.32.7 |   As he is wont at each Saint Valentide,
6. 7.32.8 |   Vnto the which all louers doe resort,
6. 7.32.9 | That of their loues successe they there may make report;

6. 7.33.1 | It fortun'd then, that when the roules were red,
6. 7.33.2 |   In which the names of all loues folke were fyled,
6. 7.33.3 |   That many there were missing, which were ded,
6. 7.33.4 |   Or kept in bands, or from their loues exyled,
6. 7.33.5 |   Or by some other violence despoyled.
6. 7.33.6 |   Which when as \Cupid\ heard, he wexed wroth,
6. 7.33.7 |   And doubting to be wronged, or beguyled,
6. 7.33.8 |   He bad his eyes to be vnblindfold both,
6. 7.33.9 | That he might see his men, and muster them by oth.

6. 7.34.1 | Then found he many missing of his crew,
6. 7.34.2 |   Which wont doe suit and seruice to his might;
6. 7.34.3 |   Of whom what was becomen, no man knew.
6. 7.34.4 |   Therefore a Iurie was impaneld streight,
6. 7.34.5 |   T'=enquire of them, whether by force, or sleight,
6. 7.34.6 |   Or their owne guilt, they were away conuayd.
6. 7.34.7 |   To whom foule \Infamie\, and fell \Despight\
6. 7.34.8 |   Gaue euidence, that they were all betrayd,
6. 7.34.9 | And murdred cruelly by a rebellious Mayd.

6. 7.35.1 | Fayre \Mirabella\ was her name, whereby
6. 7.35.2 |   Of all those crymes she there indited was:
6. 7.35.3 |   All which when \Cupid\ heard, he by and by
6. 7.35.4 |   In great displeasure, wild a \Capias\
6. 7.35.5 |   Should issue forth, t'=attach that scornefull lasse.
6. 7.35.6 |   The warrant straight was made, and therewithall
6. 7.35.7 |   A Baylieffe errant forth in post did passe,
6. 7.35.8 |   Whom they by name there \Portamore\ did call;
6. 7.35.9 | He which doth summon louers to loues iudgement hall.

6. 7.36.1 | The damzell was attacht, and shortly brought
6. 7.36.2 |   Vnto the barre, whereas she was arrayned:
6. 7.36.3 |   But she thereto nould plead, nor answere ought
6. 7.36.4 |   Euen for stubborne pride, which her restrayned.
6. 7.36.5 |   So iudgement past, as is by law ordayned
6. 7.36.6 |   In cases like, which when at last she saw,
6. 7.36.7 |   Her stubborne hart, which loue before disdayned,
6. 7.36.8 |   Gan stoupe, and falling downe with humble awe,
6. 7.36.9 | Cryde mercie, to abate the extremitie of law.

6. 7.37.1 | The sonne of \Venus\ who is myld by kynd,
6. 7.37.2 |   But where he is prouokt with peeuishnesse,
6. 7.37.3 |   Vnto her prayers piteously enclynd,
6. 7.37.4 |   And did the rigour of his doome represse;
6. 7.37.5 |   Yet not so freely, but that nathelesse
6. 7.37.6 |   He vnto her a penance did impose,
6. 7.37.7 |   Which was, that through this worlds wyde wildernes
6. 7.37.8 |   She wander should in companie of those,
6. 7.37.9 | Till she had sau'd so many loues, as she did lose.

6. 7.38.1 | So now she had bene wandring two whole yeares
6. 7.38.2 |   Throughout the world, in this vncomely case,
6. 7.38.3 |   Wasting her goodly hew in heauie teares,
6. 7.38.4 |   And her good dayes in dolorous disgrace:
6. 7.38.5 |   Yet had she not in all these two yeares space,
6. 7.38.6 |   Saued but two, yet in two yeares before,
6. 7.38.7 |   Through her dispiteous pride, whilest loue lackt place,
6. 7.38.8 |   She had destroyed two and twenty more.
6. 7.38.9 | Aie me, how could her loue make half amends therefore?

6. 7.39.1 | And now she was vppon the weary way,
6. 7.39.2 |   When as the gentle Squire, with faire \Serene\,
6. 7.39.3 |   Met her in such misseeming foule array;
6. 7.39.4 |   The whiles that mighty man did her demeane
6. 7.39.5 |   With all the euill termes and cruell meane,
6. 7.39.6 |   That he could make; And eeke that angry foole
6. 7.39.7 |   Which follow'd her, with cursed hands vncleane
6. 7.39.8 |   Whipping her horse, did with his smarting toole
6. 7.39.9 | Oft whip her dainty selfe, and much augment her doole.

6. 7.40.1 | Ne ought it mote auaile her to entreat
6. 7.40.2 |   The one or th'=other, better her to vse:
6. 7.40.3 |   For both so wilfull were and obstinate,
6. 7.40.4 |   That all her piteous plaint they did refuse,
6. 7.40.5 |   And rather did the more her beate and bruse.
6. 7.40.6 |   But most the former villaine, which did lead
6. 7.40.7 |   Her tyreling iade, was bent her to abuse;
6. 7.40.8 |   Who though she were with wearinesse nigh dead,
6. 7.40.9 | Yet would not let her lite, nor rest a little stead.

6. 7.41.1 | For he was sterne, and terrible by nature,
6. 7.41.2 |   And eeke of person huge and hideous,
6. 7.41.3 |   Exceeding much the measure of mans stature,
6. 7.41.4 |   And rather like a Gyant monstruous.
6. 7.41.5 |   For sooth he was descended of the hous
6. 7.41.6 |   Of those old Gyants, which did warres darraine
6. 7.41.7 |   Against the heauen in order battailous,
6. 7.41.8 |   And sib to great \Orgolio\, which was slaine
6. 7.41.9 | By \Arthure\, when as \Vnas\ Knight he did maintaine.

6. 7.42.1 | His lookes were dreadfull, and his fiery eies
6. 7.42.2 |   Like two great Beacons, glared bright and wyde,
6. 7.42.3 |   Glauncing askew, as if his enemies
6. 7.42.4 |   He scorned in his ouerweening pryde;
6. 7.42.5 |   And stalking stately like a Crane, did stryde
6. 7.42.6 |   At euery step vppon the tiptoes hie,
6. 7.42.7 |   And all the way he went, on euery syde
6. 7.42.8 |   He gaz'd about, and stared horriblie,
6. 7.42.9 | As if he with his lookes would all men terrifie.

6. 7.43.1 | He wore no armour, ne for none did care,
6. 7.43.2 |   As no whit dreading any liuing wight;
6. 7.43.3 |   But in a Iacket quilted richly rare
6. 7.43.4 |   Vpon checklaton he was straungely dight,
6. 7.43.5 |   And on his head a roll of linnen plight,
6. 7.43.6 |   Like to the Mores of Malaber he wore;
6. 7.43.7 |   With which his locks, as blacke as pitchy night,
6. 7.43.8 |   Were bound about, and voyded from before,
6. 7.43.9 | And in his hand a mighty yron club he bore.

6. 7.44.1 | This was \Disdaine\, who led that Ladies horse
6. 7.44.2 |   Through thick and thin, through mountains and through plains,
6. 7.44.3 |   Compelling her, wher she would not, by force,
6. 7.44.4 |   Haling her palfrey by the hempen raines.
6. 7.44.5 |   But that same foole, which most increast her paines,
6. 7.44.6 |   Was \Scorne\, who hauing in his hand a whip,
6. 7.44.7 |   Her therewith yirks, and still when she complaines,
6. 7.44.8 |   The more he laughes, and does her closely quip,
6. 7.44.9 | To see her sore lament, and bite her tender lip.

6. 7.45.1 | Whose cruell handling when that Squire beheld,
6. 7.45.2 |   And saw those villaines her so vildely vse,
6. 7.45.3 |   His gentle heart with indignation sweld,
6. 7.45.4 |   And could no lenger beare so great abuse,
6. 7.45.5 |   As such a Lady so to beate and bruse;
6. 7.45.6 |   But to him stepping, such a stroke him lent,
6. 7.45.7 |   That forst him th'=halter from his hand to loose,
6. 7.45.8 |   And maugre all his might, backe to relent:
6. 7.45.9 | Else had he surely there bene slaine, or fowly shent.

6. 7.46.1 | The villaine, wroth for greeting him so sore,
6. 7.46.2 |   Gathered him selfe together soone againe,
6. 7.46.3 |   And with his yron batton, which he bore,
6. 7.46.4 |   Let driue at him so dreadfully amaine,
6. 7.46.5 |   That for his safety he did him constraine
6. 7.46.6 |   To giue him ground, and shift to euery side,
6. 7.46.7 |   Rather then once his burden to sustaine:
6. 7.46.8 |   For bootelesse thing him seemed, to abide
6. 7.46.9 | So mighty blowes, or proue the puissaunce of his pride.

6. 7.47.1 | Like as a Mastiffe hauing at a bay
6. 7.47.2 |   A saluage Bull, whose cruell hornes doe threat
6. 7.47.3 |   Desperate daunger, if he them assay,
6. 7.47.4 |   Traceth his ground, and round about doth beat,
6. 7.47.5 |   To spy where he may some aduauntage get;
6. 7.47.6 |   The whiles the beast doth rage and loudly rore:
6. 7.47.7 |   So did the Squire, the whiles the Carle did fret,
6. 7.47.8 |   And fume in his disdainefull mynd the more,
6. 7.47.9 | And oftentimes by Turmagant and Mahound swore.

6. 7.48.1 | Nathelesse so sharpely still he him pursewd,
6. 7.48.2 |   That at aduantage him at last he tooke,
6. 7.48.3 |   When his foote slipt (that slip he dearely rewd,)
6. 7.48.4 |   And with his yron club to ground him strooke;
6. 7.48.5 |   Where still he lay, ne out of swoune awooke,
6. 7.48.6 |   Till heauy hand the Carle vpon him layd,
6. 7.48.7 |   And bound him fast: Tho when he vp did looke,
6. 7.48.8 |   And saw him selfe captiu'd, he was dismayd,
6. 7.48.9 | Ne powre had to withstand, ne hope of any ayd.

6. 7.49.1 | Then vp he made him rise, and forward fare,
6. 7.49.2 |   Led in a rope, which both his hands did bynd;
6. 7.49.3 |   Ne ought that foole for pitty did him spare,
6. 7.49.4 |   But with his whip him following behynd,
6. 7.49.5 |   Him often scourg'd, and forst his feete to fynd:
6. 7.49.6 |   And other whiles with bitter mockes and mowes
6. 7.49.7 |   He would him scorne, that to his gentle mynd
6. 7.49.8 |   Was much more grieuous, then the others blowes:
6. 7.49.9 | Words sharpely wound, but greatest griefe of scorning growes.

6. 7.50.1 | The faire \Serena\, when she saw him fall
6. 7.50.2 |   Vnder that villaines club, then surely thought
6. 7.50.3 |   That slaine he was, or made a wretched thrall,
6. 7.50.4 |   And fled away with all the speede she mought,
6. 7.50.5 |   To seeke for safety, which long time she sought:
6. 7.50.6 |   And past through many perils by the way,
6. 7.50.7 |   Ere she againe to \Calepine\ was brought;
6. 7.50.8 |   The which discourse as now I must delay,
6. 7.50.9 | Till \Mirabellaes\ fortunes I doe further say.


6. 8. A.1 | \Prince Arthure ouercomes Disdaine,\
6. 8. A.2 |   \Quites Mirabell from dreed:\
6. 8. A.3 | \Serena found of Saluages,\
6. 8. A.4 |   \By Calepine is freed.\

6. 8. 1.1 | Ye gentle Ladies, in whose soueraine powre
6. 8. 1.2 |   Loue hath the glory of his kingdome left,
6. 8. 1.3 |   And th'=hearts of men, as your eternall dowre,
6. 8. 1.4 |   In yron chaines, of liberty bereft,
6. 8. 1.5 |   Deliuered hath into your hands by gift;
6. 8. 1.6 |   Be well aware, how ye the same doe vse,
6. 8. 1.7 |   That pride doe not to tyranny you lift;
6. 8. 1.8 |   Least if men you of cruelty accuse,
6. 8. 1.9 | He from you take that chiefedome, which ye doe abuse.

6. 8. 2.1 | And as ye soft and tender are by kynde,
6. 8. 2.2 |   Adornd with goodly gifts of beauties grace,
6. 8. 2.3 |   So be ye soft and tender eeke in mynde;
6. 8. 2.4 |   But cruelty and hardnesse from you chace,
6. 8. 2.5 |   That all your other praises will deface,
6. 8. 2.6 |   And from you turne the loue of men to hate.
6. 8. 2.7 |   Ensample take of \Mirabellaes\ case,
6. 8. 2.8 |   Who from the high degree of happy state,
6. 8. 2.9 | Fell into wretched woes, which she repented late.

6. 8. 3.1 | Who after thraldome of the gentle Squire,
6. 8. 3.2 |   Which she beheld with lamentable eye,
6. 8. 3.3 |   Was touched with compassion entire,
6. 8. 3.4 |   And much lamented his calamity,
6. 8. 3.5 |   That for her sake fell into misery:
6. 8. 3.6 |   Which booted nought for prayers, nor for threat
6. 8. 3.7 |   To hope for to release or mollify;
6. 8. 3.8 |   For aye the more, that she did them entreat,
6. 8. 3.9 | The more they him misust, and cruelly did beat.

6. 8. 4.1 | So as they forward on their way did pas,
6. 8. 4.2 |   Him still reuiling and afflicting sore,
6. 8. 4.3 |   They met Prince \Arthure\ with Sir \Enias\,
6. 8. 4.4 |   (That was that courteous Knight, whom he before
6. 8. 4.5 |   Hauing subdew'd, yet did to life restore,)
6. 8. 4.6 |   To whom as they approcht, they gan augment
6. 8. 4.7 |   Their cruelty, and him to punish more,
6. 8. 4.8 |   Scourging and haling him more vehement;
6. 8. 4.9 | As if it them should grieue to see his punishment.

6. 8. 5.1 | The Squire him selfe when as he saw his Lord,
6. 8. 5.2 |   The witnesse of his wretchednesse, in place,
6. 8. 5.3 |   Was much asham'd, that with an hempen cord
6. 8. 5.4 |   He like a dog was led in captiue case,
6. 8. 5.5 |   And did his head for bashfulnesse abase,
6. 8. 5.6 |   As loth to see, or to be seene at all:
6. 8. 5.7 |   Shame would be hid. But whenas \Enias\
6. 8. 5.8 |   Beheld two such, of two such villaines thrall,
6. 8. 5.9 | His manly mynde was much emmoued therewithall.

6. 8. 6.1 | And to the Prince thus sayd; See you Sir Knight,
6. 8. 6.2 |   The greatest shame that euer eye yet saw?
6. 8. 6.3 |   Yond Lady and her Squire with foule despight
6. 8. 6.4 |   Abusde, against all reason and all law,
6. 8. 6.5 |   Without regard of pitty or of awe.
6. 8. 6.6 |   See how they doe that Squire beat and reuile;
6. 8. 6.7 |   See how they doe the Lady hale and draw.
6. 8. 6.8 |   But if ye please to lend me leaue a while,
6. 8. 6.9 | I will them soone acquite, and both of blame assoile.

6. 8. 7.1 | The Prince assented, and then he streight way
6. 8. 7.2 |   Dismounting light, his shield about him threw,
6. 8. 7.3 |   With which approching, thus he gan to say;
6. 8. 7.4 |   Abide ye caytiue treachetours vntrew,
6. 8. 7.5 |   That haue with treason thralled vnto you
6. 8. 7.6 |   These two, vnworthy of your wretched bands;
6. 8. 7.7 |   And now your crime with cruelty pursew.
6. 8. 7.8 |   Abide, and from them lay your loathly hands;
6. 8. 7.9 | Or else abide the death, that hard before you stands.

6. 8. 8.1 | The villaine stayd not aunswer to inuent,
6. 8. 8.2 |   But with his yron club preparing way,
6. 8. 8.3 |   His mindes sad message backe vnto him sent;
6. 8. 8.4 |   The which descended with such dreadfull sway,
6. 8. 8.5 |   That seemed nought the course thereof could stay:
6. 8. 8.6 |   No more then lightening from the lofty sky.
6. 8. 8.7 |   Ne list the Knight the powre thereof assay,
6. 8. 8.8 |   Whose doome was death, but lightly slipping by,
6. 8. 8.9 | Vnwares defrauded his intended destiny.

6. 8. 9.1 | And to requite him with the like againe,
6. 8. 9.2 |   With his sharpe sword he fiercely at him flew,
6. 8. 9.3 |   And strooke so strongly, that the Carle with paine
6. 8. 9.4 |   Saued him selfe, but that he there him slew:
6. 8. 9.5 |   Yet sau'd not so, but that the bloud it drew,
6. 8. 9.6 |   And gaue his foe good hope of victory.
6. 8. 9.7 |   Who therewith flesht, vpon him set anew,
6. 8. 9.8 |   And with the second stroke, thought certainely
6. 8. 9.9 | To haue supplyde the first, and paide the vsury.

6. 8.10.1 | But Fortune aunswerd not vnto his call;
6. 8.10.2 |   For as his hand was heaued vp on hight,
6. 8.10.3 |   The villaine met him in the middle fall,
6. 8.10.4 |   And with his club bet backe his brondyron bright
6. 8.10.5 |   So forcibly, that with his owne hands might
6. 8.10.6 |   Rebeaten backe vpon him selfe againe,
6. 8.10.7 |   He driuen was to ground in selfe despight;
6. 8.10.8 |   From whence ere he recouery could gaine,
6. 8.10.9 | He in his necke had set his foote with fell disdaine.

6. 8.11.1 | With that the foole, which did that end awayte,
6. 8.11.2 |   Came running in, and whilest on ground he lay,
6. 8.11.3 |   Laide heauy hands on him, and held so strayte,
6. 8.11.4 |   That downe he kept him with his scornefull sway,
6. 8.11.5 |   So as he could not weld him any way.
6. 8.11.6 |   The whiles that other villaine went about
6. 8.11.7 |   Him to haue bound, and thrald without delay;
6. 8.11.8 |   The whiles the foole did him reuile and flout,
6. 8.11.9 | Threatning to yoke them two and tame their corage stout.

6. 8.12.1 | As when a sturdy ploughman with his hynde
6. 8.12.2 |   By strength haue ouerthrowne a stubborne steare,
6. 8.12.3 |   They downe him hold, and fast with cords do bynde,
6. 8.12.4 |   Till they him force the buxome yoke to beare:
6. 8.12.5 |   So did these two this Knight oft tug and teare.
6. 8.12.6 |   Which when the Prince beheld, there standing by,
6. 8.12.7 |   He left his lofty steede to aide him neare,
6. 8.12.8 |   And buckling soone him selfe, gan fiercely fly
6. 8.12.9 | Vppon that Carle, to saue his friend from ieopardy.

6. 8.13.1 | The villaine leauing him vnto his mate
6. 8.13.2 |   To be captiu'd, and handled as he list,
6. 8.13.3 |   Himselfe addrest vnto this new debate,
6. 8.13.4 |   And with his club him all about so blist,
6. 8.13.5 |   That he which way to turne him scarcely wist:
6. 8.13.6 |   Sometimes aloft he layd, sometimes alow;
6. 8.13.7 |   Now here, now there, and oft him neare he mist;
6. 8.13.8 |   So doubtfully, that hardly one could know
6. 8.13.9 | Whether more wary were to giue or ward the blow.

6. 8.14.1 | But yet the Prince so well enured was
6. 8.14.2 |   With such huge strokes, approued oft in fight,
6. 8.14.3 |   That way to them he gaue forth right to pas.
6. 8.14.4 |   Ne would endure the daunger of their might,
6. 8.14.5 |   But wayt aduantage, when they downe did light.
6. 8.14.6 |   At last the caytiue after long discourse,
6. 8.14.7 |   When all his strokes he saw auoyded quite,
6. 8.14.8 |   Resolued in one t'=assemble all his force,
6. 8.14.9 | And make one end of him without ruth or remorse.

6. 8.15.1 | His dreadfull hand he heaued vp aloft,
6. 8.15.2 |   And with his dreadfull instrument of yre,
6. 8.15.3 |   Thought sure haue pownded him to powder soft,
6. 8.15.4 |   Or deepe emboweld in the earth entyre:
6. 8.15.5 |   But Fortune did not with his will conspire.
6. 8.15.6 |   For ere his stroke attayned his intent,
6. 8.15.7 |   The noble childe preuenting his desire,
6. 8.15.8 |   Vnder his club with wary boldnesse went,
6. 8.15.9 | And smote him on the knee, that neuer yet was bent.

6. 8.16.1 | It neuer yet was bent, ne bent it now,
6. 8.16.2 |   Albe the stroke so strong and puissant were,
6. 8.16.3 |   That seem'd a marble pillour it could bow,
6. 8.16.4 |   But all that leg, which did his body beare,
6. 8.16.5 |   It crackt throughout, yet did no bloud appeare;
6. 8.16.6 |   So as it was vnable to support
6. 8.16.7 |   So huge a burden on such broken geare,
6. 8.16.8 |   But fell to ground, like to a lumpe of durt,
6. 8.16.9 | Whence he assayd to rise, but could not for his hurt.

6. 8.17.1 | Eftsoones the Prince to him full nimbly stept,
6. 8.17.2 |   And least he should recouer foote againe,
6. 8.17.3 |   His head meant from his shoulders to haue swept.
6. 8.17.4 |   Which when the Lady saw, she cryde amaine;
6. 8.17.5 |   Stay stay, Sir Knight, for loue of God abstaine,
6. 8.17.6 |   From that vnwares ye weetlesse doe intend;
6. 8.17.7 |   Slay not that Carle, though worthy to be slaine:
6. 8.17.8 |   For more on him doth then him selfe depend;
6. 8.17.9 | My life will by his death haue lamentable end.

6. 8.18.1 | He staide his hand according her desire,
6. 8.18.2 |   Yet nathemore him suffred to arize;
6. 8.18.3 |   But still suppressing gan of her inquire,
6. 8.18.4 |   What meaning mote those vncouth words comprize,
6. 8.18.5 |   That in that villaines health her safety lies:
6. 8.18.6 |   That, were no might in man, nor heart in Knights,
6. 8.18.7 |   Which durst her dreaded reskue enterprize,
6. 8.18.8 |   Yet heauens them selues, that fauour feeble rights,
6. 8.18.9 | Would for it selfe redresse, and punish such despights.

6. 8.19.1 | Then bursting forth in teares, which gushed fast
6. 8.19.2 |   Like many water streames, a while she stayd;
6. 8.19.3 |   Till the sharpe passion being ouerpast,
6. 8.19.4 |   Her tongue to her restord, then thus she sayd;
6. 8.19.5 |   Nor heauens, nor men can me most wretched mayd
6. 8.19.6 |   Deliuer from the doome of my desart,
6. 8.19.7 |   The which the God of loue hath on me layd,
6. 8.19.8 |   And damned to endure this direfull smart,
6. 8.19.9 | For penaunce of my proud and hard rebellious hart.

6. 8.20.1 | In prime of youthly yeares, when first the flowre
6. 8.20.2 |   Of beauty gan to bud, and bloosme delight,
6. 8.20.3 |   And nature me endu'd with plenteous dowre,
6. 8.20.4 |   Of all her gifts, that pleasde each liuing sight,
6. 8.20.5 |   I was belou'd of many a gentle Knight,
6. 8.20.6 |   And sude and sought with all the seruice dew:
6. 8.20.7 |   Full many a one for me deepe groand and sight,
6. 8.20.8 |   And to the dore of death for sorrow drew,
6. 8.20.9 | Complayning out on me, that would not on them rew.

6. 8.21.1 | But let them loue that list, or liue or die;
6. 8.21.2 |   Me list not die for any louers doole:
6. 8.21.3 |   Ne list me leaue my loued libertie,
6. 8.21.4 |   To pitty him that list to play the foole:
6. 8.21.5 |   To loue my selfe I learned had in schoole.
6. 8.21.6 |   Thus I triumphed long in louers paine,
6. 8.21.7 |   And sitting carelesse on the scorners stoole,
6. 8.21.8 |   Did laugh at those that did lament and plaine:
6. 8.21.9 | But all is now repayd with interest againe.

6. 8.22.1 | For loe the winged God, that woundeth harts,
6. 8.22.2 |   Causde me be called to accompt therefore,
6. 8.22.3 |   And for reuengement of those wrongfull smarts,
6. 8.22.4 |   Which I to others did inflict afore,
6. 8.22.5 |   Addeem'd me to endure this penaunce sore;
6. 8.22.6 |   That in this wize, and this vnmeete array,
6. 8.22.7 |   With these two lewd companions, and no more,
6. 8.22.8 |   \Disdaine\ and \Scorne\, I through the world should stray,
6. 8.22.9 | Till I haue sau'd so many, as I earst did slay.

6. 8.23.1 | Certes (sayd then the Prince) the God is iust,
6. 8.23.2 |   That taketh vengeaunce of his peoples spoile.
6. 8.23.3 |   For were no law in loue, but all that lust,
6. 8.23.4 |   Might them oppresse, and painefully turmoile,
6. 8.23.5 |   His kingdome would continue but a while.
6. 8.23.6 |   But tell me Lady, wherefore doe you beare
6. 8.23.7 |   This bottle thus before you with such toile,
6. 8.23.8 |   And eeke this wallet at your backe arreare,
6. 8.23.9 | That for these Carles to carry much more comely were?

6. 8.24.1 | Here in this bottle (sayd the sory Mayd)
6. 8.24.2 |   I put the teares of my contrition,
6. 8.24.3 |   Till to the brim I haue it full defrayd:
6. 8.24.4 |   And in this bag which I behinde me don,
6. 8.24.5 |   I put repentaunce for things past and gon.
6. 8.24.6 |   Yet is the bottle leake, and bag so torne,
6. 8.24.7 |   That all which I put in, fals out anon;
6. 8.24.8 |   And is behinde me trodden downe of \Scorne\,
6. 8.24.9 | Who mocketh all my paine, and laughs the more I mourn.

6. 8.25.1 | The Infant hearkned wisely to her tale,
6. 8.25.2 |   And wondred much at \Cupids\ iudg'ment wise,
6. 8.25.3 |   That could so meekly make proud hearts auale,
6. 8.25.4 |   And wreake him selfe on them, that him despise.
6. 8.25.5 |   Then suffred he \Disdaine\ vp to arise,
6. 8.25.6 |   Who was not able vp him selfe to reare,
6. 8.25.7 |   By meanes his leg through his late luckelesse prise,
6. 8.25.8 |   Was crackt in twaine, but by his foolish feare
6. 8.25.9 | Was holpen vp, who him supported standing neare.

6. 8.26.1 | But being vp, he lookt againe aloft,
6. 8.26.2 |   As if he neuer had receiued fall;
6. 8.26.3 |   And with sterne eye-browes stared at him oft,
6. 8.26.4 |   As if he would haue daunted him withall:
6. 8.26.5 |   And standing on his tiptoes, to seeme tall,
6. 8.26.6 |   Downe on his golden feete he often gazed,
6. 8.26.7 |   As if such pride the other could apall;
6. 8.26.8 |   Who was so far from being ought amazed,
6. 8.26.9 | That he his lookes despised, and his boast dispraized.

6. 8.27.1 | Then turning backe vnto that captiue thrall,
6. 8.27.2 |   Who all this while stood there beside them bound,
6. 8.27.3 |   Vnwilling to be knowne, or seene at all,
6. 8.27.4 |   He from those bands weend him to haue vnwound.
6. 8.27.5 |   But when approching neare, he plainely found,
6. 8.27.6 |   It was his owne true groome, the gentle Squire,
6. 8.27.7 |   He thereat wext exceedingly astound,
6. 8.27.8 |   And him did oft embrace, and oft admire,
6. 8.27.9 | Ne could with seeing satisfie his great desire.

6. 8.28.1 | Meane while the Saluage man, when he beheld
6. 8.28.2 |   That huge great foole oppressing th'=other Knight,
6. 8.28.3 |   Whom with his weight vnweldy downe he held,
6. 8.28.4 |   He flew vpon him, like a greedy kight
6. 8.28.5 |   Vnto some carrion offered to his sight,
6. 8.28.6 |   And downe him plucking, with his nayles and teeth
6. 8.28.7 |   Gan him to hale, and teare, and scratch, and bite;
6. 8.28.8 |   And from him taking his owne whip, therewith
6. 8.28.9 | So sore him scourgeth, that the bloud downe followeth.

6. 8.29.1 | And sure I weene, had not the Ladies cry
6. 8.29.2 |   Procur'd the Prince his cruell hand to stay,
6. 8.29.3 |   He would with whipping, him haue done to dye:
6. 8.29.4 |   But being checkt, he did abstaine streight way,
6. 8.29.5 |   And let him rise. Then thus the Prince gan say;
6. 8.29.6 |   Now Lady sith your fortunes thus dispose,
6. 8.29.7 |   That if ye list haue liberty, ye may,
6. 8.29.8 |   Vnto your selfe I freely leaue to chose,
6. 8.29.9 | Whether I shall you leaue, or from these villaines lose.

6. 8.30.1 | Ah nay Sir Knight (sayd she) it may not be,
6. 8.30.2 |   But that I needes must by all meanes fulfill
6. 8.30.3 |   This penaunce, which enioyned is to me,
6. 8.30.4 |   Least vnto me betide a greater ill;
6. 8.30.5 |   Yet no lesse thankes to you for your good will.
6. 8.30.6 |   So humbly taking leaue, she turnd aside,
6. 8.30.7 |   But \Arthure\ with the rest, went onward still
6. 8.30.8 |   On his first quest, in which did him betide
6. 8.30.9 | A great aduenture, which did him from them deuide.

6. 8.31.1 | But first it falleth me by course to tell
6. 8.31.2 |   Of faire \Serena\, who as earst you heard,
6. 8.31.3 |   When first the gentle Squire at variaunce fell
6. 8.31.4 |   With those two Carles, fled fast away, afeard
6. 8.31.5 |   Of villany to be to her inferd:
6. 8.31.6 |   So fresh the image of her former dread,
6. 8.31.7 |   Yet dwelling in her eye, to her appeard,
6. 8.31.8 |   That euery foote did tremble, which did tread,
6. 8.31.9 | And euery body two, and two she foure did read.

6. 8.32.1 | Through hils and dales, through bushes and through breres
6. 8.32.2 |   Long thus she fled, till that at last she thought
6. 8.32.3 |   Her selfe now past the perill of her feares.
6. 8.32.4 |   Then looking round about, and seeing nought,
6. 8.32.5 |   Which doubt of daunger to her offer mought,
6. 8.32.6 |   She from her palfrey lighted on the plaine,
6. 8.32.7 |   And sitting downe, her selfe a while bethought
6. 8.32.8 |   Of her long trauell and turmoyling paine;
6. 8.32.9 | And often did of loue, and oft of lucke complaine.

6. 8.33.1 | And euermore she blamed \Calepine\,
6. 8.33.2 |   The good Sir \Calepine\, her owne true Knight,
6. 8.33.3 |   As th'=onely author of her wofull tine:
6. 8.33.4 |   For being of his loue to her so light,
6. 8.33.5 |   As her to leaue in such a piteous plight.
6. 8.33.6 |   Yet neuer Turtle truer to his make,
6. 8.33.7 |   Then he was tride vnto his Lady bright:
6. 8.33.8 |   Who all this while endured for her sake,
6. 8.33.9 | Great perill of his life, and restlesse paines did take.

6. 8.34.1 | Tho when as all her plaints she had displayd,
6. 8.34.2 |   And well disburdened her engrieued brest,
6. 8.34.3 |   Vpon the grasse her selfe adowne she layd;
6. 8.34.4 |   Where being tyrde with trauell, and opprest
6. 8.34.5 |   With sorrow, she betooke her selfe to rest.
6. 8.34.6 |   There whilest in \Morpheus\ bosome safe she lay,
6. 8.34.7 |   Fearelesse of ought, that mote her peace molest,
6. 8.34.8 |   False Fortune did her safety betray,
6. 8.34.9 | Vnto a straunge mischaunce, that menac'd her decay.

6. 8.35.1 | In these wylde deserts, where she now abode,
6. 8.35.2 |   There dwelt a saluage nation, which did liue
6. 8.35.3 |   Of stealth and spoile, and making nightly rode
6. 8.35.4 |   Into their neighbours borders; ne did giue
6. 8.35.5 |   Them selues to any trade, as for to driue
6. 8.35.6 |   The painefull plough, or cattell for to breed,
6. 8.35.7 |   Or by aduentrous marchandize to thriue;
6. 8.35.8 |   But on the labours of poore men to feed,
6. 8.35.9 | And serue their owne necessities with others need.

6. 8.36.1 | Thereto they vsde one most accursed order,
6. 8.36.2 |   To eate the flesh of men, whom they mote fynde,
6. 8.36.3 |   And straungers to deuoure, which on their border
6. 8.36.4 |   Were brought by errour, or by wreckfull wynde.
6. 8.36.5 |   A monstrous cruelty gainst course of kynde.
6. 8.36.6 |   They towards euening wandring euery way,
6. 8.36.7 |   To seeke for booty, came by fortune blynde,
6. 8.36.8 |   Whereas this Lady, like a sheepe astray,
6. 8.36.9 | Now drowned in the depth of sleepe all fearelesse lay.

6. 8.37.1 | Soone as they spide her, Lord what gladfull glee
6. 8.37.2 |   They made amongst them selues; but when her face
6. 8.37.3 |   Like the faire yuory shining they did see,
6. 8.37.4 |   Each gan his fellow solace and embrace,
6. 8.37.5 |   For ioy of such good hap by heauenly grace.
6. 8.37.6 |   Then gan they to deuize what course to take:
6. 8.37.7 |   Whether to slay her there vpon the place,
6. 8.37.8 |   Or suffer her out of her sleepe to wake,
6. 8.37.9 | And then her eate attonce; or many meales to make.

6. 8.38.1 | The best aduizement was of bad, to let her
6. 8.38.2 |   Sleepe out her fill, without encomberment:
6. 8.38.3 |   For sleepe they sayd would make her battill better.
6. 8.38.4 |   Then when she wakt, they all gaue one consent,
6. 8.38.5 |   That since by grace of God she there was sent,
6. 8.38.6 |   Vnto their God they would her sacrifize,
6. 8.38.7 |   Whose share, her guiltlesse bloud they would present,
6. 8.38.8 |   But of her dainty flesh they did deuize
6. 8.38.9 | To make a common feast, and feed with gurmandize.

6. 8.39.1 | So round about her they them selues did place
6. 8.39.2 |   Vpon the grasse, and diuersely dispose,
6. 8.39.3 |   As each thought best to spend the lingring space.
6. 8.39.4 |   Some with their eyes the daintest morsels chose;
6. 8.39.5 |   Some praise her paps, some praise her lips and nose;
6. 8.39.6 |   Some whet their kniues, and strip their elboes bare:
6. 8.39.7 |   The Priest him selfe a garland doth compose
6. 8.39.8 |   Of finest flowres, and with full busie care
6. 8.39.9 | His bloudy vessels wash, and holy fire prepare.

6. 8.40.1 | The Damzell wakes, then all attonce vpstart,
6. 8.40.2 |   And round about her flocke, like many flies,
6. 8.40.3 |   Whooping, and hallowing on euery part,
6. 8.40.4 |   As if they would haue rent the brasen skies.
6. 8.40.5 |   Which when she sees with ghastly griefful eies,
6. 8.40.6 |   Her heart does quake, and deadly pallid hew
6. 8.40.7 |   Benumbes her cheekes: Then out aloud she cries,
6. 8.40.8 |   Where none is nigh to heare, that will her rew,
6. 8.40.9 | And rends her golden locks, and snowy brests embrew.

6. 8.41.1 | But all bootes not: they hands vpon her lay;
6. 8.41.2 |   And first they spoile her of her iewels deare,
6. 8.41.3 |   And afterwards of all her rich array;
6. 8.41.4 |   The which amongst them they in peeces teare,
6. 8.41.5 |   And of the pray each one a part doth beare.
6. 8.41.6 |   Now being naked, to their sordid eyes
6. 8.41.7 |   The goodly threasures of nature appeare:
6. 8.41.8 |   Which as they view with lustfull fantasyes,
6. 8.41.9 | Each wisheth to him selfe, and to the rest enuyes.

6. 8.42.1 | Her yuorie necke, her alablaster brest,
6. 8.42.2 |   Her paps, which like white silken pillowes were,
6. 8.42.3 |   For loue in soft delight thereon to rest;
6. 8.42.4 |   Her tender sides, her bellie white and clere,
6. 8.42.5 |   Which like an Altar did it selfe vprere,
6. 8.42.6 |   To offer sacrifice diuine thereon;
6. 8.42.7 |   Her goodly thighes, whose glorie did appeare
6. 8.42.8 |   Like a triumphall Arch, and thereupon
6. 8.42.9 | The spoiles of Princes hang'd, which were in battel won.

6. 8.43.1 | Those daintie parts, the dearlings of delight,
6. 8.43.2 |   Which mote not be prophan'd of common eyes,
6. 8.43.3 |   Those villeins vew'd with loose lasciuious sight,
6. 8.43.4 |   And closely tempted with their craftie spyes;
6. 8.43.5 |   And some of them gan mongst themselues deuize,
6. 8.43.6 |   Thereof by force to take their beastly pleasure.
6. 8.43.7 |   But them the Priest rebuking, did aduize
6. 8.43.8 |   To dare not to pollute so sacred threasure,
6. 8.43.9 | Vow'd to the gods: religion held euen theeues in measure.

6. 8.44.1 | So being stayd, they her from thence directed
6. 8.44.2 |   Vnto a litle groue not farre asyde,
6. 8.44.3 |   In which an altar shortly they erected,
6. 8.44.4 |   To slay her on. And now the Euentyde
6. 8.44.5 |   His brode black wings had through the heauens wyde
6. 8.44.6 |   By this dispred, that was the tyme ordayned
6. 8.44.7 |   For such a dismall deed, their guilt to hyde:
6. 8.44.8 |   Of few greene turfes an altar soone they fayned,
6. 8.44.9 | And deckt it all with flowres, which they nigh hand obtayned.

6. 8.45.1 | Tho when as all things readie were aright,
6. 8.45.2 |   The Damzell was before the altar set,
6. 8.45.3 |   Being alreadie dead with fearefull fright.
6. 8.45.4 |   To whom the Priest with naked armes full net
6. 8.45.5 |   Approching nigh, and murdrous knife well whet,
6. 8.45.6 |   Gan mutter close a certaine secret charme,
6. 8.45.7 |   With other diuelish ceremonies met:
6. 8.45.8 |   Which doen he gan aloft t'=aduance his arme,
6. 8.45.9 | Whereat they shouted all, and made a loud alarme.

6. 8.46.1 | Then gan the bagpypes and the hornes to shrill,
6. 8.46.2 |   And shrieke aloud, that with the peoples voyce
6. 8.46.3 |   Confused, did the ayre with terror fill,
6. 8.46.4 |   And made the wood to tremble at the noyce:
6. 8.46.5 |   The whyles she wayld, the more they did reioyce.
6. 8.46.6 |   Now mote ye vnderstand that to this groue
6. 8.46.7 |   Sir \Calepine\ by chaunce, more then by choyce,
6. 8.46.8 |   The selfe same euening fortune hether droue,
6. 8.46.9 | As he to seeke \Serena\ through the woods did roue.

6. 8.47.1 | Long had he sought her, and through many a soyle
6. 8.47.2 |   Had traueld still on foot in heauie armes,
6. 8.47.3 |   Ne ought was tyred with his endlesse toyles,
6. 8.47.4 |   Ne ought was feared of his certaine harmes:
6. 8.47.5 |   And now all weetlesse of the wretched stormes,
6. 8.47.6 |   In which his loue was lost, he slept full fast,
6. 8.47.7 |   Till being waked with these loud alarmes,
6. 8.47.8 |   He lightly started vp like one aghast,
6. 8.47.9 | And catching vp his arms streight to the noise forth past.

6. 8.48.1 | There by th'=vncertaine glims of starry night,
6. 8.48.2 |   And by the twinkling of their sacred fire,
6. 8.48.3 |   He mote perceiue a litle dawning sight
6. 8.48.4 |   Of all, which there was doing in that quire:
6. 8.48.5 |   Mongst whom a woman spoyld of all attire
6. 8.48.6 |   He spyde, lamenting her vnluckie strife,
6. 8.48.7 |   And groning sore from grieued hart entire,
6. 8.48.8 |   Eftsoones he saw one with a naked knife
6. 8.48.9 | Readie to launch her brest, and let out loued life.

6. 8.49.1 | With that he thrusts into the thickest throng,
6. 8.49.2 |   And euen as his right hand adowne descends,
6. 8.49.3 |   He him preuenting, layes on earth along,
6. 8.49.4 |   And sacrifizeth to th'=infernall feends.
6. 8.49.5 |   Then to the rest his wrathfull hand he bends,
6. 8.49.6 |   Of whom he makes such hauocke and such hew,
6. 8.49.7 |   That swarmes of damned soules to hell he sends:
6. 8.49.8 |   The rest that scape his sword and death eschew,
6. 8.49.9 | Fly like a flocke of doues before a Faulcons vew.

6. 8.50.1 | From them returning to that Ladie backe,
6. 8.50.2 |   Whom by the Altar he doth sitting find,
6. 8.50.3 |   Yet fearing death, and next to death the lacke
6. 8.50.4 |   Of clothes to couer, what they ought by kind,
6. 8.50.5 |   He first her hands beginneth to vnbind;
6. 8.50.6 |   And then to question of her present woe;
6. 8.50.7 |   And afterwards to cheare with speaches kind.
6. 8.50.8 |   But she for nought that he could say or doe,
6. 8.50.9 | One word durst speake, or answere him a whit thereto.

6. 8.51.1 | So inward shame of her vncomely case
6. 8.51.2 |   She did conceiue, through care of womanhood,
6. 8.51.3 |   That though the night did couer her disgrace,
6. 8.51.4 |   Yet she in so vnwomanly a mood,
6. 8.51.5 |   Would not bewray the state in which she stood.
6. 8.51.6 |   So all that night to him vnknowen she past.
6. 8.51.7 |   But day, that doth discouer bad and good,
6. 8.51.8 |   Ensewing, made her knowen to him at last:
6. 8.51.9 | The end whereof Ile keepe vntill another cast.


6. 9. A.1 | \Calidore hostes with Meliboe\
6. 9. A.2 |   \and loues fayre Pastorell;\
6. 9. A.3 | \Coridon enuies him, yet he\
6. 9. A.4 |   \for ill rewards him well.\

6. 9. 1.1 | Now turne againe my teme thou iolly swayne,
6. 9. 1.2 |   Backe to the furrow which I lately left;
6. 9. 1.3 |   I lately left a furrow, one or twayne
6. 9. 1.4 |   Vnplough'd, the which my coulter hath not cleft:
6. 9. 1.5 |   Yet seem'd the soyle both fayre and frutefull eft,
6. 9. 1.6 |   As I it past, that were too great a shame,
6. 9. 1.7 |   That so rich frute should be from vs bereft;
6. 9. 1.8 |   Besides the great dishonour and defame,
6. 9. 1.9 | Which should befall to \Calidores\ immortall name.

6. 9. 2.1 | Great trauell hath the gentle \Calidore\
6. 9. 2.2 |   And toyle endured, sith I left him last
6. 9. 2.3 |   Sewing the \Blatant beast\, which I forbore
6. 9. 2.4 |   To finish then, for other present hast.
6. 9. 2.5 |   Full many pathes and perils he hath past,
6. 9. 2.6 |   Through hils, through dales, throgh forests, and throgh plaines
6. 9. 2.7 |   In that same quest which fortune on him cast,
6. 9. 2.8 |   Which he atchieued to his owne great gaines,
6. 9. 2.9 | Reaping eternall glorie of his restlesse paines.

6. 9. 3.1 | So sharply he the Monster did pursew,
6. 9. 3.2 |   That day nor night he suffred him to rest,
6. 9. 3.3 |   Ne rested he himselfe but natures dew,
6. 9. 3.4 |   For dread of daunger, not to be redrest,
6. 9. 3.5 |   If he for slouth forslackt so famous quest.
6. 9. 3.6 |   Him first from court he to the citties coursed,
6. 9. 3.7 |   And from the citties to the townes him prest,
6. 9. 3.8 |   And from the townes into the countrie forsed,
6. 9. 3.9 | And from the country back to priuate farmes he scorsed.

6. 9. 4.1 | From thence into the open fields he fled,
6. 9. 4.2 |   Whereas the Heardes were keeping of their neat,
6. 9. 4.3 |   And shepheards singing to their flockes, that fed,
6. 9. 4.4 |   Layes of sweete loue and youthes delightfull heat:
6. 9. 4.5 |   Him thether eke for all his fearefull threat
6. 9. 4.6 |   He followed fast, and chaced him so nie,
6. 9. 4.7 |   That to the folds, where sheepe at night doe seat,
6. 9. 4.8 |   And to the litle cots, where shepherds lie
6. 9. 4.9 | In winters wrathfull time, he forced him to flie.

6. 9. 5.1 | There on a day as he pursew'd the chace,
6. 9. 5.2 |   He chaunst to spy a sort of shepheard groomes,
6. 9. 5.3 |   Playing on pypes, and caroling apace,
6. 9. 5.4 |   The whyles their beasts there in the budded broomes
6. 9. 5.5 |   Beside them fed, and nipt the tender bloomes:
6. 9. 5.6 |   For other worldly wealth they cared nought.
6. 9. 5.7 |   To whom Sir \Calidore\ yet sweating comes,
6. 9. 5.8 |   And them to tell him courteously besought,
6. 9. 5.9 | If such a beast they saw, which he had thether brought.

6. 9. 6.1 | They answer'd him, that no such beast they saw,
6. 9. 6.2 |   Nor any wicked feend, that mote offend
6. 9. 6.3 |   Their happie flockes, nor daunger to them draw:
6. 9. 6.4 |   But if that such there were (as none they kend)
6. 9. 6.5 |   They prayd high God him farre from them to send.
6. 9. 6.6 |   Then one of them him seeing so to sweat,
6. 9. 6.7 |   After his rusticke wise, that well he weend,
6. 9. 6.8 |   Offred him drinke, to quench his thirstie heat,
6. 9. 6.9 | And if he hungry were, him offred eke to eat.

6. 9. 7.1 | The knight was nothing nice, where was no need,
6. 9. 7.2 |   And tooke their gentle offer: so adowne
6. 9. 7.3 |   They prayd him sit, and gaue him for to feed
6. 9. 7.4 |   Such homely what, as serues the simple clowne,
6. 9. 7.5 |   That doth despise the dainties of the towne.
6. 9. 7.6 |   Tho hauing fed his fill, he there besyde
6. 9. 7.7 |   Saw a faire damzell, which did weare a crowne
6. 9. 7.8 |   Of sundry flowres, with silken ribbands tyde,
6. 9. 7.9 | Yclad in home-made greene that her owne hands had dyde.

6. 9. 8.1 | Vpon a litle hillocke she was placed
6. 9. 8.2 |   Higher then all the rest, and round about
6. 9. 8.3 |   Enuiron'd with a girland, goodly graced,
6. 9. 8.4 |   Of louely lasses, and them all without
6. 9. 8.5 |   The lustie shepheard swaynes sate in a rout,
6. 9. 8.6 |   The which did pype and sing her prayses dew,
6. 9. 8.7 |   And oft reioyce, and oft for wonder shout,
6. 9. 8.8 |   As if some miracle of heauenly hew
6. 9. 8.9 | Were downe to them descended in that earthly vew.

6. 9. 9.1 | And soothly sure she was full fayre of face,
6. 9. 9.2 |   And perfectly well shapt in euery lim,
6. 9. 9.3 |   Which she did more augment with modest grace,
6. 9. 9.4 |   And comely carriage of her count'nance trim,
6. 9. 9.5 |   That all the rest like lesser lamps did dim:
6. 9. 9.6 |   Who her admiring as some heauenly wight,
6. 9. 9.7 |   Did for their soueraine goddesse her esteeme,
6. 9. 9.8 |   And caroling her name both day and night,
6. 9. 9.9 | The fayrest \Pastorella\ her by name did hight.

6. 9.10.1 | Ne was there heard, ne was there shepheards swayne
6. 9.10.2 |   But her did honour, and eke many a one
6. 9.10.3 |   Burnt in her loue, and with sweet pleasing payne
6. 9.10.4 |   Full many a night for her did sigh and grone:
6. 9.10.5 |   But most of all the shepheard \Coridon\
6. 9.10.6 |   For her did languish, and his deare life spend;
6. 9.10.7 |   Yet neither she for him, nor other none
6. 9.10.8 |   Did care a whit, ne any liking lend:
6. 9.10.9 | Though meane her lot, yet higher did her mind ascend.

6. 9.11.1 | Her whyles Sir \Calidore\ there vewed well,
6. 9.11.2 |   And markt her rare demeanure, which him seemed
6. 9.11.3 |   So farre the meane of shepheards to excell,
6. 9.11.4 |   As that he in his mind her worthy deemed,
6. 9.11.5 |   To be a Princes Paragone esteemed,
6. 9.11.6 |   He was vnwares surprisd in subtile bands
6. 9.11.7 |   Of the blynd boy, ne thence could be redeemed
6. 9.11.8 |   By any skill out of his cruell hands,
6. 9.11.9 | Caught like the bird, which gazing still on others stands.

6. 9.12.1 | So stood he still long gazing thereupon,
6. 9.12.2 |   Ne any will had thence to moue away,
6. 9.12.3 |   Although his quest were farre afore him gon;
6. 9.12.4 |   But after he had fed, yet did he stay,
6. 9.12.5 |   And sate there still, vntill the flying day
6. 9.12.6 |   Was farre forth spent, discoursing diuersly
6. 9.12.7 |   Of sundry things, as fell, to worke delay;
6. 9.12.8 |   And euermore his speach he did apply
6. 9.12.9 | To th'=heards, but meant them to the damzels fantazy.

6. 9.13.1 | By this the moystie night approching fast,
6. 9.13.2 |   Her deawy humour gan on th'=earth to shed,
6. 9.13.3 |   That warn'd the shepheards to their homes to hast
6. 9.13.4 |   Their tender flocks, now being fully fed,
6. 9.13.5 |   For feare of wetting them before their bed;
6. 9.13.6 |   Then came to them a good old aged syre,
6. 9.13.7 |   Whose siluer lockes bedeckt his beard and hed,
6. 9.13.8 |   With shepheards hooke in hand, and fit attyre,
6. 9.13.9 | That wild the damzell rise; the day did now expyre.

6. 9.14.1 | He was to weet by common voice esteemed
6. 9.14.2 |   The father of the fayrest \Pastorell\,
6. 9.14.3 |   And of her selfe in very deede so deemed;
6. 9.14.4 |   Yet was not so, but as old stories tell
6. 9.14.5 |   Found her by fortune, which to him befell,
6. 9.14.6 |   In th'=open fields an Infant left alone,
6. 9.14.7 |   And taking vp brought home, and noursed well
6. 9.14.8 |   As his owne chyld; for other he had none,
6. 9.14.9 | That she in tract of time accompted was his owne.

6. 9.15.1 | She at his bidding meekely did arise,
6. 9.15.2 |   And streight vnto her litle flocke did fare:
6. 9.15.3 |   Then all the rest about her rose likewise,
6. 9.15.4 |   And each his sundrie sheepe with seuerall care
6. 9.15.5 |   Gathered together, and them homeward bare:
6. 9.15.6 |   Whylest euerie one with helping hands did striue
6. 9.15.7 |   Amongst themselues, and did their labours share,
6. 9.15.8 |   To helpe faire \Pastorella\, home to driue
6. 9.15.9 | Her fleecie flocke; but \Coridon\ most helpe did giue.

6. 9.16.1 | But \Melibo+ee\ (so hight that good old man)
6. 9.16.2 |   Now seeing \Calidore\ left all alone,
6. 9.16.3 |   And night arriued hard at hand, began
6. 9.16.4 |   Him to inuite vnto his simple home;
6. 9.16.5 |   Which though it were a cottage clad with lome,
6. 9.16.6 |   And all things therein meane, yet better so
6. 9.16.7 |   To lodge, then in the saluage fields to rome.
6. 9.16.8 |   The knight full gladly soone agreed thereto,
6. 9.16.9 | Being his harts owne wish, and home with him did go.

6. 9.17.1 | There he was welcom'd of that honest syre,
6. 9.17.2 |   And of his aged Beldame homely well;
6. 9.17.3 |   Who him besought himselfe to disattyre,
6. 9.17.4 |   And rest himselfe, till supper time befell.
6. 9.17.5 |   By which home came the fayrest \Pastorell\,
6. 9.17.6 |   After her flocke she in their fold had tyde,
6. 9.17.7 |   And supper readie dight, they to it fell
6. 9.17.8 |   With small adoe, and nature satisfyde,
6. 9.17.9 | The which doth litle craue contented to abyde.

6. 9.18.1 | Tho when they had their hunger slaked well,
6. 9.18.2 |   And the fayre mayd the table ta'ne away,
6. 9.18.3 |   The gentle knight, as he that did excell
6. 9.18.4 |   In courtesie, and well could doe and say,
6. 9.18.5 |   For so great kindnesse as he found that day,
6. 9.18.6 |   Gan greatly thanke his host and his good wife;
6. 9.18.7 |   And drawing thence his speach another way,
6. 9.18.8 |   Gan highly to commend the happie life,
6. 9.18.9 | Which Shepheards lead, without debate or bitter strife.

6. 9.19.1 | How much (sayd he) more happie is the state,
6. 9.19.2 |   In which ye father here doe dwell at ease,
6. 9.19.3 |   Leading a life so free and fortunate,
6. 9.19.4 |   From all the tempests of these worldly seas,
6. 9.19.5 |   Which tosse the rest in daungerous disease;
6. 9.19.6 |   Where warres, and wreckes, and wicked enmitie
6. 9.19.7 |   Doe them afflict, which no man can appease,
6. 9.19.8 |   That certes I your happinesse enuie,
6. 9.19.9 | And wish my lot were plast in such felicitie.

6. 9.20.1 | Surely my sonne (then answer'd he againe)
6. 9.20.2 |   If happie, then it is in this intent,
6. 9.20.3 |   That hauing small, yet doe I not complaine
6. 9.20.4 |   Of want, ne wish for more it to augment,
6. 9.20.5 |   But doe my self, with that I haue, content;
6. 9.20.6 |   So taught of nature, which doth litle need
6. 9.20.7 |   Of forreine helpes to lifes due nourishment:
6. 9.20.8 |   The fields my food, my flocke my rayment breed;
6. 9.20.9 | No better doe I weare, no better doe I feed.

6. 9.21.1 | Therefore I doe not any one enuy,
6. 9.21.2 |   Nor am enuyde of any one therefore;
6. 9.21.3 |   They that haue much, feare much to loose thereby,
6. 9.21.4 |   And store of cares doth follow riches store.
6. 9.21.5 |   The litle that I haue, growes dayly more
6. 9.21.6 |   Without my care, but onely to attend it;
6. 9.21.7 |   My lambes doe euery yeare increase their score,
6. 9.21.8 |   And my flockes father daily doth amend it.
6. 9.21.9 | What haue I, but to praise th'=Almighty, that doth send it?

6. 9.22.1 | To them, that list, the worlds gay showes I leaue,
6. 9.22.2 |   And to great ones such follies doe forgiue,
6. 9.22.3 |   Which oft through pride do their owne perill weaue,
6. 9.22.4 |   And through ambition downe themselues doe driue
6. 9.22.5 |   To sad decay, that might contented liue.
6. 9.22.6 |   Me no such cares nor combrous thoughts offend,
6. 9.22.7 |   Ne once my minds vnmoued quiet grieue,
6. 9.22.8 |   But all the night in siluer sleepe I spend,
6. 9.22.9 | And all the day, to what I list, I doe attend.

6. 9.23.1 | Sometimes I hunt the Fox, the vowed foe
6. 9.23.2 |   Vnto my Lambes, and him dislodge away;
6. 9.23.3 |   Sometime the fawne I practise from the Doe,
6. 9.23.4 |   Or from the Goat her kidde how to conuay;
6. 9.23.5 |   Another while I baytes and nets display,
6. 9.23.6 |   The birds to catch, or fishes to beguyle:
6. 9.23.7 |   And when I wearie am, I downe doe lay
6. 9.23.8 |   My limbes in euery shade, to rest from toyle,
6. 9.23.9 | And drinke of euery brooke, when thirst my throte doth boyle.

6. 9.24.1 | The time was once, in my first prime of yeares,
6. 9.24.2 |   When pride of youth forth pricked my desire,
6. 9.24.3 |   That I disdain'd amongst mine equall peares
6. 9.24.4 |   To follow sheepe, and shepheards base attire:
6. 9.24.5 |   For further fortune then I would inquire.
6. 9.24.6 |   And leauing home, to roiall court I sought;
6. 9.24.7 |   Where I did sell my selfe for yearely hire,
6. 9.24.8 |   And in the Princes gardin daily wrought:
6. 9.24.9 | There I beheld such vainenesse, as I neuer thought.

6. 9.25.1 | With sight whereof soone cloyd, and long deluded
6. 9.25.2 |   With idle hopes, which them doe entertaine,
6. 9.25.3 |   After I had ten yeares my selfe excluded
6. 9.25.4 |   From natiue home, and spent my youth in vaine,
6. 9.25.5 |   I gan my follies to my selfe to plaine,
6. 9.25.6 |   And this sweet peace, whose lacke did then appeare.
6. 9.25.7 |   Tho backe returning to my sheepe againe,
6. 9.25.8 |   I from thenceforth haue learn'd to loue more deare
6. 9.25.9 | This lowly quiet life, which I inherite here.

6. 9.26.1 | Whylest thus he talkt, the knight with greedy eare
6. 9.26.2 |   Hong still vpon his melting mouth attent;
6. 9.26.3 |   Whose sensefull words empierst his hart so neare,
6. 9.26.4 |   That he was rapt with double rauishment,
6. 9.26.5 |   Both of his speach that wrought him great content,
6. 9.26.6 |   And also of the obiect of his vew,
6. 9.26.7 |   On which his hungry eye was alwayes bent;
6. 9.26.8 |   That twixt his pleasing tongue, and her faire hew,
6. 9.26.9 | He lost himselfe, and like one halfe entraunced grew.

6. 9.27.1 | Yet to occasion meanes, to worke his mind,
6. 9.27.2 |   And to insinuate his harts desire,
6. 9.27.3 |   He thus replyde; Now surely syre, I find,
6. 9.27.4 |   That all this worlds gay showes, which we admire,
6. 9.27.5 |   Be but vaine shadowes to this safe retyre
6. 9.27.6 |   Of life, which here in lowlinesse ye lead,
6. 9.27.7 |   Fearelesse of foes, or fortunes wrackfull yre,
6. 9.27.8 |   Which tosseth states, and vnder foot doth tread
6. 9.27.9 | The mightie ones, affrayd of euery chaunges dread.

6. 9.28.1 | That euen I which daily doe behold
6. 9.28.2 |   The glorie of the great, mongst whom I won,
6. 9.28.3 |   And now haue prou'd, what happineesse ye hold
6. 9.28.4 |   In this small plot of your dominion,
6. 9.28.5 |   Now loath great Lordship and ambition;
6. 9.28.6 |   And wish the heauens so much had graced mee,
6. 9.28.7 |   As graunt me liue in like condition;
6. 9.28.8 |   Or that my fortunes might transposed bee
6. 9.28.9 | From pitch of higher place, vnto this low degree.

6. 9.29.1 | In vaine (said then old \Melibo+e\) doe men
6. 9.29.2 |   The heauens of their fortunes fault accuse,
6. 9.29.3 |   Sith they know best, what is the best for them:
6. 9.29.4 |   For they to each such fortune doe diffuse,
6. 9.29.5 |   As they doe know each can most aptly vse.
6. 9.29.6 |   For not that, which men couet most, is best,
6. 9.29.7 |   Nor that thing worst, which men do most refuse;
6. 9.29.8 |   But fittest is, that all contented rest
6. 9.29.9 | With that they hold: each hath his fortune in his brest.

6. 9.30.1 | It is the mynd, that maketh good or ill,
6. 9.30.2 |   That maketh wretch or happie, rich or poore:
6. 9.30.3 |   For some, that hath abundance at his will,
6. 9.30.4 |   Hath not enough, but wants in greatest store;
6. 9.30.5 |   And other, that hath litle, askes no more,
6. 9.30.6 |   But in that litle is both rich and wise.
6. 9.30.7 |   For wisedome is most riches; fooles therefore
6. 9.30.8 |   They are, which fortunes doe by vowes deuize,
6. 9.30.9 | Sith each vnto himselfe his life may fortunize.

6. 9.31.1 | Since then in each mans self (said \Calidore\)
6. 9.31.2 |   It is, to fashion his owne lyfes estate,
6. 9.31.3 |   Giue leaue awhyle, good father, in this shore
6. 9.31.4 |   To rest my barcke, which hath bene beaten late
6. 9.31.5 |   With stormes of fortune and tempestuous fate,
6. 9.31.6 |   In seas of troubles and of toylesome paine,
6. 9.31.7 |   That whether quite from them for to retrate
6. 9.31.8 |   I shal resolue, or backe to turne againe,
6. 9.31.9 | I may here with your selfe some small repose obtaine.

6. 9.32.1 | Not that the burden of so bold a guest
6. 9.32.2 |   Shall chargefull be, or chaunge to you at all;
6. 9.32.3 |   For your meane food shall be my daily feast,
6. 9.32.4 |   And this your cabin both my bowre and hall.
6. 9.32.5 |   Besides for recompence hereof, I shall
6. 9.32.6 |   You well reward, and golden guerdon giue,
6. 9.32.7 |   That may perhaps you better much withall,
6. 9.32.8 |   And in this quiet make you safer liue.
6. 9.32.9 | So forth he drew much gold, and toward him it driue.

6. 9.33.1 | But the good man, nought tempted with the offer
6. 9.33.2 |   Of his rich mould, did thrust it farre away,
6. 9.33.3 |   And thus bespake; Sir knight, your bounteous proffer
6. 9.33.4 |   Be farre fro me, to whom ye ill display
6. 9.33.5 |   That mucky masse, the cause of mens decay,
6. 9.33.6 |   That mote empaire my peace with daungers dread.
6. 9.33.7 |   But if ye algates couet to assay
6. 9.33.8 |   This simple sort of life, that shepheards lead,
6. 9.33.9 | Be it your owne: our rudenesse to your selfe aread.

6. 9.34.1 | So there that night Sir \Calidore\ did dwell,
6. 9.34.2 |   And long while after, whilest him list remaine,
6. 9.34.3 |   Dayly beholding the faire \Pastorell\,
6. 9.34.4 |   And feeding on the bayt of his owne bane.
6. 9.34.5 |   During which time he did her entertaine
6. 9.34.6 |   With all kind courtesies, he could inuent;
6. 9.34.7 |   And euery day, her companie to gaine,
6. 9.34.8 |   When to the field she went, he with her went:
6. 9.34.9 | So for to quench his fire, he did it more augment.

6. 9.35.1 | But she that neuer had acquainted beene
6. 9.35.2 |   With such queint vsage, fit for Queenes and Kings,
6. 9.35.3 |   Ne euer had such knightly seruice seene,
6. 9.35.4 |   But being bred vnder base shepheards wings,
6. 9.35.5 |   Had euer learn'd to loue the lowly things,
6. 9.35.6 |   Did litle whit regard his courteous guize,
6. 9.35.7 |   But cared more for \Colins\ carolings
6. 9.35.8 |   Then all that he could doe, or euer deuize:
6. 9.35.9 | His layes, his loues, his lookes she did them all despize.

6. 9.36.1 | Which \Calidore\ perceiuing, thought it best
6. 9.36.2 |   To chaunge the manner of his loftie looke;
6. 9.36.3 |   And doffing his bright armes, himselfe addrest
6. 9.36.4 |   In shepheards weed, and in his hand he tooke,
6. 9.36.5 |   In stead of steelehead speare, a shepheards hooke,
6. 9.36.6 |   That who had seene him then, would haue bethought
6. 9.36.7 |   On \Phrygian Paris\ by \Plexippus\ brooke,
6. 9.36.8 |   When he the loue of fayre \Oenone\ sought,
6. 9.36.9 | What time the golden apple was vnto him brought.

6. 9.37.1 | So being clad, vnto the fields he went
6. 9.37.2 |   With the faire \Pastorella\ euery day,
6. 9.37.3 |   And kept her sheepe with diligent attent,
6. 9.37.4 |   Watching to driue the rauenous Wolfe away,
6. 9.37.5 |   The whylest at pleasure she mote sport and play;
6. 9.37.6 |   And euery euening helping them to fold:
6. 9.37.7 |   And otherwhiles for need, he did assay
6. 9.37.8 |   In his strong hand their rugged teats to hold,
6. 9.37.9 | And out of them to presse the milke: loue so much could.

6. 9.38.1 | Which seeing \Coridon\, who her likewise
6. 9.38.2 |   Long time had lou'd, and hop'd her loue to gaine,
6. 9.38.3 |   He much was troubled at that straungers guize,
6. 9.38.4 |   And many gealous thoughts conceiu'd in vaine,
6. 9.38.5 |   That this of all his labour and long paine
6. 9.38.6 |   Should reap the haruest, ere it ripened were,
6. 9.38.7 |   That made him scoule, and pout, and oft complaine
6. 9.38.8 |   Of \Pastorell\ to all the shepheards there,
6. 9.38.9 | That she did loue a stranger swayne then him more dere.

6. 9.39.1 | And euer when him came in companie,
6. 9.39.2 |   Where \Calidore\ was present, he would loure,
6. 9.39.3 |   And byte his lip, and euen for gealousie
6. 9.39.4 |   Was readie oft his owne hart to deuoure,
6. 9.39.5 |   Impatient of any paramoure:
6. 9.39.6 |   Who on the other side did seeme so farre
6. 9.39.7 |   From malicing, or grudging his good houre,
6. 9.39.8 |   That all he could, he graced him with her,
6. 9.39.9 | Ne euer shewed signe of rancour or of iarre.

6. 9.40.1 | And oft, when \Coridon\ vnto her brought
6. 9.40.2 |   Or litle sparrowes, stolen from their nest,
6. 9.40.3 |   Or wanton squirrels, in the woods farre sought,
6. 9.40.4 |   Or other daintie thing for her addrest,
6. 9.40.5 |   He would commend his guift, and make the best.
6. 9.40.6 |   Yet she no whit his presents did regard,
6. 9.40.7 |   Ne him could find to fancie in her brest:
6. 9.40.8 |   This newcome shepheard had his market mard.
6. 9.40.9 | Old loue is litle worth when new is more prefard.

6. 9.41.1 | One day when as the shepheard swaynes together
6. 9.41.2 |   Were met, to make their sports and merrie glee,
6. 9.41.3 |   As they are wont in faire sunshynie weather,
6. 9.41.4 |   The whiles their flockes in shadowes shrouded bee,
6. 9.41.5 |   They fell to daunce: then did they all agree,
6. 9.41.6 |   That \Colin Clout\ should pipe as one most fit;
6. 9.41.7 |   And \Calidore\ should lead the ring, as hee
6. 9.41.8 |   That most in \Pastorellaes\ grace did sit.
6. 9.41.9 | Thereat frown'd \Coridon\, and his lip closely bit.

6. 9.42.1 | But \Calidore\ of courteous inclination
6. 9.42.2 |   Tooke \Coridon\, and set him in his place,
6. 9.42.3 |   That he should lead the daunce, as was his fashion;
6. 9.42.4 |   For \Coridon\ could daunce, and trimly trace.
6. 9.42.5 |   And when as \Pastorella\, him to grace,
6. 9.42.6 |   Her flowry garlond tooke from her owne head,
6. 9.42.7 |   And plast on his, he did it soone displace,
6. 9.42.8 |   And did it put on \Coridons\ in stead:
6. 9.42.9 | Then \Coridon\ woxe frollicke, that earst seemed dead.

6. 9.43.1 | Another time, when as they did dispose
6. 9.43.2 |   To practise games, and maisteries to try,
6. 9.43.3 |   They for their Iudge did \Pastorella\ chose;
6. 9.43.4 |   A garland was the meed of victory.
6. 9.43.5 |   There \Coridon\ forth stepping openly,
6. 9.43.6 |   Did chalenge \Calidore\ to wrestling game:
6. 9.43.7 |   For he through long and perfect industry,
6. 9.43.8 |   Therein well practisd was, and in the same
6. 9.43.9 | Thought sure t'=auenge his grudge, and worke his foe great shame.

6. 9.44.1 | But \Calidore\ he greatly did mistake;
6. 9.44.2 |   For he was strong and mightily stiffe pight,
6. 9.44.3 |   That with one fall his necke he almost brake,
6. 9.44.4 |   And had he not vpon him fallen light,
6. 9.44.5 |   His dearest ioynt he sure had broken quight.
6. 9.44.6 |   Then was the oaken crowne by \Pastorell\
6. 9.44.7 |   Giuen to \Calidore\, as his due right;
6. 9.44.8 |   But he, that did in courtesie excell,
6. 9.44.9 | Gaue it to \Coridon\, and said he wonne it well.

6. 9.45.1 | Thus did the gentle knight himselfe abeare
6. 9.45.2 |   Amongst that rusticke rout in all his deeds,
6. 9.45.3 |   That euen they, the which his riuals were,
6. 9.45.4 |   Could not maligne him, but commend him needs:
6. 9.45.5 |   For courtesie amongst the rudest breds
6. 9.45.6 |   Good will and fauour. So it surely wrought
6. 9.45.7 |   With this faire Mayd, and in her mynde the seeds
6. 9.45.8 |   Of perfect loue did sow, that last forth brought
6. 9.45.9 | The fruite of ioy and blisse, though long time dearely bought.

6. 9.46.1 | Thus \Calidore\ continu'd there long time,
6. 9.46.2 |   To winne the loue of the faire \Pastorell\;
6. 9.46.3 |   Which hauing got, he vsed without crime
6. 9.46.4 |   Or blamefull blot, but menaged so well,
6. 9.46.5 |   That he of all the rest, which there did dwell,
6. 9.46.6 |   Was fauoured, and to her grace commmended.
6. 9.46.7 |   But what straunge fortunes vnto him befell,
6. 9.46.8 |   Ere he attain'd the point by him intended,
6. 9.46.9 | Shall more conueniently in other place be ended.


6.10. A.1 | \Calidore sees the Graces daunce,\
6.10. A.2 |   \To Colins melody:\
6.10. A.3 | \The whiles his Pastorell is led,\
6.10. A.4 |   \Into captiuity.\

6.10. 1.1 | Who now does follow the foule \Blatant Beast\,
6.10. 1.2 |   Whilest \Calidore\ does follow that faire Mayd,
6.10. 1.3 |   Vnmyndfull of his vow and high beheast,
6.10. 1.4 |   Which by the Faery Queene was on him layd,
6.10. 1.5 |   That he should neuer leaue, nor be delayd
6.10. 1.6 |   From chacing him, till he had it attchieued?
6.10. 1.7 |   But now entrapt of loue, which him betrayd,
6.10. 1.8 |   He mindeth more, how he may be relieued
6.10. 1.9 | With grace from her, whose loue his heart hath sore engrieued.

6.10. 2.1 | That from henceforth he meanes no more to sew
6.10. 2.2 |   His former quest, so full of toile and paine;
6.10. 2.3 |   Another quest, another game in vew
6.10. 2.4 |   He hath, the guerdon of his loue to gaine:
6.10. 2.5 |   With whom he myndes for euer to remaine,
6.10. 2.6 |   And set his rest amongst the rusticke sort,
6.10. 2.7 |   Rather then hunt still after shadowes vaine
6.10. 2.8 |   Of courtly fauour, fed with light report
6.10. 2.9 | Of euery blaste, and sayling alwaies in the port.

6.10. 3.1 | Ne certes mote he greatly blamed be,
6.10. 3.2 |   From so high step to stoupe vnto so low.
6.10. 3.3 |   For who had tasted once (as oft did he)
6.10. 3.4 |   The happy peace, which there doth ouerflow,
6.10. 3.5 |   And prou'd the perfect pleasures, which doe grow
6.10. 3.6 |   Amongst poore hyndes, in hils, in woods, in dales,
6.10. 3.7 |   Would neuer more delight in painted show
6.10. 3.8 |   Of such false blisse, as there is set for stales,
6.10. 3.9 | T'=entrap vnwary fooles in their eternall bales.

6.10. 4.1 | For what hath all that goodly glorious gaze
6.10. 4.2 |   Like to one sight, which \Calidore\ did vew?
6.10. 4.3 |   The glaunce whereof their dimmed eies would daze,
6.10. 4.4 |   That neuer more they should endure the shew
6.10. 4.5 |   Of that sunne-shine, that makes them looke askew.
6.10. 4.6 |   Ne ought in all that world of beauties rare,
6.10. 4.7 |   (Saue onely \Glorianaes\ heauenly hew
6.10. 4.8 |   To which what can compare?) can it compare;
6.10. 4.9 | The which as commeth now, by course I will declare.

6.10. 5.1 | One day as he did raunge the fields abroad,
6.10. 5.2 |   Whilest his faire \Pastorella\ was elsewhere,
6.10. 5.3 |   He chaunst to come, far from all peoples troad,
6.10. 5.4 |   Vnto a place, whose pleasaunce did appere
6.10. 5.5 |   To passe all others, on the earth which were:
6.10. 5.6 |   For all that euer was by natures skill
6.10. 5.7 |   Deuized to worke delight, was gathered there,
6.10. 5.8 |   And there by her were poured forth at fill,
6.10. 5.9 | As if this to adorne, she all the rest did pill.

6.10. 6.1 | It was an hill plaste in an open plaine,
6.10. 6.2 |   That round about was bordered with a wood
6.10. 6.3 |   Of matchlesse hight, that seem'd th'=earth to disdaine,
6.10. 6.4 |   In which all trees of honour stately stood,
6.10. 6.5 |   And did all winter as in sommer bud,
6.10. 6.6 |   Spredding pauilions for the birds to bowre,
6.10. 6.7 |   Which in their lower braunches sung aloud;
6.10. 6.8 |   And in their tops the soring hauke did towre,
6.10. 6.9 | Sitting like King of fowles in maiesty and powre.

6.10. 7.1 | And at the foote thereof, a gentle flud
6.10. 7.2 |   His siluer waues did softly tumble downe,
6.10. 7.3 |   Vnmard with ragged mosse or filthy mud,
6.10. 7.4 |   Ne mote wylde beastes, ne mote the ruder clowne
6.10. 7.5 |   Thereto approch, ne filth mote therein drowne:
6.10. 7.6 |   But Nymphes and Faeries by the bancks did sit,
6.10. 7.7 |   In the woods shade, which did the waters crowne,
6.10. 7.8 |   Keeping all noysome things away from it,
6.10. 7.9 | And to the waters fall tuning their accents fit.

6.10. 8.1 | And on the top thereof a spacious plaine
6.10. 8.2 |   Did spred it selfe, to serue to all delight,
6.10. 8.3 |   Either to daunce, when they to daunce would faine,
6.10. 8.4 |   Or else to course about their bases light;
6.10. 8.5 |   Ne ought there wanted, which for pleasure might
6.10. 8.6 |   Desired be, or thence to banish bale:
6.10. 8.7 |   So pleasauntly the hill with equall hight,
6.10. 8.8 |   Did seeme to ouerlooke the lowly vale;
6.10. 8.9 | Therefore it rightly cleeped was mount \Acidale\.

6.10. 9.1 | They say that \Venus\, when she did dispose
6.10. 9.2 |   Her selfe to pleasaunce, vsed to resort
6.10. 9.3 |   Vnto this place, and therein to repose
6.10. 9.4 |   And rest her selfe, as in a gladsome port,
6.10. 9.5 |   Or with the Graces there to play and sport;
6.10. 9.6 |   That euen her owne Cytheron, though in it
6.10. 9.7 |   She vsed most to keepe her royall court,
6.10. 9.8 |   And in her soueraine Maiesty to sit,
6.10. 9.9 | She in regard hereof refusde and thought vnfit.

6.10.10.1 | Vnto this place when as the Elfin Knight
6.10.10.2 |   Approcht, him seemed that the merry sound
6.10.10.3 |   Of a shrill pipe he playing heard on hight,
6.10.10.4 |   And many feete fast thumping th'=hollow ground,
6.10.10.5 |   That through the woods their Eccho did rebound.
6.10.10.6 |   He nigher drew, to weete what mote it be;
6.10.10.7 |   There he a troupe of Ladies dauncing found
6.10.10.8 |   Full merrily, and making gladfull glee,
6.10.10.9 | And in the midst a Shepheard piping he did see.

6.10.11.1 | He durst not enter into th'=open greene,
6.10.11.2 |   For dread of them vnwares to be descryde,
6.10.11.3 |   For breaking of their daunce, if he were seene;
6.10.11.4 |   But in the couert of the wood did byde,
6.10.11.5 |   Beholding all, yet of them vnespyde.
6.10.11.6 |   There he did see, that pleased much his sight,
6.10.11.7 |   That euen he him selfe his eyes enuyde,
6.10.11.8 |   An hundred naked maidens lilly white,
6.10.11.9 | All raunged in a ring, and dauncing in delight.

6.10.12.1 | All they without were raunged in a ring,
6.10.12.2 |   And daunced round; but in the midst of them
6.10.12.3 |   Three other Ladies did both daunce and sing,
6.10.12.4 |   The whilest the rest them round about did hemme,
6.10.12.5 |   And like a girlond did in compasse stemme:
6.10.12.6 |   And in the middest of those same three, was placed
6.10.12.7 |   Another Damzell, as a precious gemme,
6.10.12.8 |   Amidst a ring most richly well enchaced,
6.10.12.9 | That with her goodly presence all the rest much graced.

6.10.13.1 | Looke how the Crowne, which \Ariadne\ wore
6.10.13.2 |   Vpon her yuory forehead that same day,
6.10.13.3 |   That \Theseus\ her vnto his bridale bore,
6.10.13.4 |   When the bold \Centaures\ made that bloudy fray,
6.10.13.5 |   With the fierce \Lapithes\, which did them dismay;
6.10.13.6 |   Being now placed in the firmament,
6.10.13.7 |   Through the bright heauen doth her beams display,
6.10.13.8 |   And is vnto the starres an ornament,
6.10.13.9 | Which round about her moue in order excellent.

6.10.14.1 | Such was the beauty of this goodly band,
6.10.14.2 |   Whose sundry parts were here too long to tell:
6.10.14.3 |   But she that in the midst of them did stand,
6.10.14.4 |   Seem'd all the rest in beauty to excell,
6.10.14.5 |   Crownd with a rosie girlond, that right well
6.10.14.6 |   Did her beseeme. And euer, as the crew
6.10.14.7 |   About her daunst, sweet flowres, that far did smell,
6.10.14.8 |   And fragrant odours they vppon her threw;
6.10.14.9 | But most of all, those three did her with gifts endew.

6.10.15.1 | Those were the Graces, daughters of delight,
6.10.15.2 |   Handmaides of \Venus\, which are wont to haunt
6.10.15.3 |   Vppon this hill, and daunce there day and night:
6.10.15.4 |   Those three to men all gifts of grace do graunt,
6.10.15.5 |   And all, that \Venus\ in her selfe doth vaunt,
6.10.15.6 |   Is borrowed of them. But that faire one,
6.10.15.7 |   That in the midst was placed parauaunt,
6.10.15.8 |   Was she to whom that shepheard pypt alone,
6.10.15.9 | That made him pipe so merrily, as neuer none.

6.10.16.1 | She was to weete that iolly Shepheards lasse,
6.10.16.2 |   Which piped there vnto that merry rout,
6.10.16.3 |   That iolly shepheard, which there piped, was
6.10.16.4 |   Poore \Colin Clout\ (who knowes not \Colin Clout\?)
6.10.16.5 |   He pypt apace, whilest they him daunst about.
6.10.16.6 |   Pype iolly shepheard, pype thou now apace
6.10.16.7 |   Vnto thy loue, that made thee low to lout:
6.10.16.8 |   Thy loue is present there with thee in place,
6.10.16.9 | Thy loue is there aduaunst to be another Grace.

6.10.17.1 | Much wondred \Calidore\ at this straunge sight,
6.10.17.2 |   Whose like before his eye had neuer seene,
6.10.17.3 |   And standing long astonished in spright,
6.10.17.4 |   And rapt with pleasaunce, wist not what to weene;
6.10.17.5 |   Whether it were the traine of beauties Queene,
6.10.17.6 |   Or Nymphes, or Faeries, or enchaunted show,
6.10.17.7 |   With which his eyes mote haue deluded beene.
6.10.17.8 |   Therefore resoluing, what it was, to know,
6.10.17.9 | Out of the wood he rose, and toward them did go.

6.10.18.1 | But soone as he appeared to their vew,
6.10.18.2 |   The vanisht all away out of his sight,
6.10.18.3 |   And cleane were gone, which way he neuer knew;
6.10.18.4 |   All saue the shepheard, who for fell despight
6.10.18.5 |   Of that displeasure, broke his bag-pipe quight,
6.10.18.6 |   And made great mone for that vnhappy turne.
6.10.18.7 |   But \Calidore\, though no lesse sory wight,
6.10.18.8 |   For that mishap, yet seeing him to mourne,
6.10.18.9 | Drew neare, that he the truth of all by him mote learne.

6.10.19.1 | And first him greeting, thus vnto him spake,
6.10.19.2 |   Haile iolly shepheard, which thy ioyous dayes
6.10.19.3 |   Here leadest in this goodly merry make,
6.10.19.4 |   Frequented of these gentle Nymphes alwayes,
6.10.19.5 |   Which to thee flocke, to heare thy louely layes;
6.10.19.6 |   Tell me, what mote these dainty Damzels be,
6.10.19.7 |   Which here with thee doe make their pleasant playes?
6.10.19.8 |   Right happy thou, that mayst them freely see:
6.10.19.9 | But why when I them saw, fled they away from me?

6.10.20.1 | Not I so happy, answerd then that swaine,
6.10.20.2 |   As thou vnhappy, which them thence didst chace,
6.10.20.3 |   Whom by no meanes thou canst recall againe,
6.10.20.4 |   For being gone, none can them bring in place,
6.10.20.5 |   But whom they of them selues list so to grace.
6.10.20.6 |   Right sory I, (saide then Sir \Calidore\,)
6.10.20.7 |   That my ill fortune did them hence displace.
6.10.20.8 |   But since things passed none may now restore,
6.10.20.9 | Tell, me what were they all, whose lacke thee grieues so sore.

6.10.21.1 | Tho gan that shepheard thus for to dilate;
6.10.21.2 |   Then wote thou shepheard, whatsoeuer thou bee,
6.10.21.3 |   That all those Ladies, which thou sawest late,
6.10.21.4 |   Are \Venus\ Damzels, all within her fee,
6.10.21.5 |   But differing in honour and degree:
6.10.21.6 |   They all are Graces, which on her depend,
6.10.21.7 |   Besides a thousand more, which ready bee
6.10.21.8 |   Her to adorne, when so she forth doth wend:
6.10.21.9 | But those three in the midst, doe chiefe on her attend.

6.10.22.1 | They are the daughters of sky-ruling loue,
6.10.22.2 |   By him begot of faire \Eurynome\,
6.10.22.3 |   The Oceans daughter, in this pleasant groue,
6.10.22.4 |   As he this way comming from feastfull glee,
6.10.22.5 |   Of \Thetis\ wedding with \A+Eacidee\,
6.10.22.6 |   In sommers shade himselfe here rested weary.
6.10.22.7 |   The first of them hight mylde \Euphrosyne\,
6.10.22.8 |   Next faire \Aglaia\, last \Thalia\ merry:
6.10.22.9 | Sweete Goddesses all three which me in mirth do cherry.

6.10.23.1 | These three on men all gracious gifts bestow,
6.10.23.2 |   Which decke to body or adorne the mynde,
6.10.23.3 |   To make them louely or well fauoured show,
6.10.23.4 |   As comely carriage, entertainement kynde,
6.10.23.5 |   Sweete semblaunt, friendly offices that bynde,
6.10.23.6 |   And all the complements of curtesie:
6.10.23.7 |   They teach vs, how to each degree and kynde
6.10.23.8 |   We should our selues demeane, to low, to hie;
6.10.23.9 | To firends, to foes, which skill men call Ciuility.

6.10.24.1 | Therefore they alwaies smoothly seeme to smile,
6.10.24.2 |   That we likewise should mylde and gentle be,
6.10.24.3 |   And also naked are, that without guile
6.10.24.4 |   Or false dissemblaunce all them plaine may see,
6.10.24.5 |   Simple and true from couert malice free:
6.10.24.6 |   And eeke them selues so in their daunce they bore,
6.10.24.7 |   That two of them still froward seem'd to bee,
6.10.24.8 |   But one still towards shew'd her selfe afore;
6.10.24.9 | That good should from vs goe, then come in greater store.

6.10.25.1 | Such were those Goddesses, which ye did see;
6.10.25.2 |   But that fourth Mayd, which there amidst them traced,
6.10.25.3 |   Who can aread, what creature mote she bee,
6.10.25.4 |   Whether a creature, or a goddesse graced
6.10.25.5 |   With heauenly gifts from heuen first enraced?
6.10.25.6 |   But what so sure she was, she worthy was,
6.10.25.7 |   For be the fourth with those three other placed:
6.10.25.8 |   Yet was she certes but a countrey lasse,
6.10.25.9 | Yet she all other countrey lasses farre did passe.

6.10.26.1 | So farre as doth the daughter of the day,
6.10.26.2 |   All other lesser lights in light excell,
6.10.26.3 |   So farre doth she in beautyfull array,
6.10.26.4 |   Aboue all other lasses beare the bell,
6.10.26.5 |   Ne lesse in vertue that beseemes her well,
6.10.26.6 |   Doth she exceede the rest of all her race,
6.10.26.7 |   For which the Graces that here wont to dwell,
6.10.26.8 |   Haue for more honor brought her to this place,
6.10.26.9 | And graced her so much to be another Grace.

6.10.27.1 | Another Grace she well deserues to be,
6.10.27.2 |   In whom so many Graces gathered are,
6.10.27.3 |   Excelling much the meane of her degree;
6.10.27.4 |   Diuine resemblaunce, beauty soueraine rare,
6.10.27.5 |   Firme Chastity, that spight ne blemish dare;
6.10.27.6 |   All which she with such courtesie doth grace,
6.10.27.7 |   That all her peres cannot with her compare,
6.10.27.8 |   But quite are dimmed, when she is in place.
6.10.27.9 | She made me often pipe and now to pipe apace.

6.10.28.1 | Sunne of the world, great glory of the sky,
6.10.28.2 |   That all the earth doest lighten with thy rayes,
6.10.28.3 |   Great \Gloriana\, greatest Maiesty,
6.10.28.4 |   Pardon thy shepheard, mongst so many layes,
6.10.28.5 |   As he hath sung of thee in all his dayes,
6.10.28.6 |   To make one minime of thy poore handmayd,
6.10.28.7 |   And vnderneath thy feete to place her prayse,
6.10.28.8 |   That when thy glory shall be farre displayd
6.10.28.9 | To future age of her this mention may be made.

6.10.29.1 | When thus that shepherd ended had his speach,
6.10.29.2 |   Sayd \Calidore\; Now sure it yrketh mee,
6.10.29.3 |   That to thy blisse I made this luckelesse breach,
6.10.29.4 |   As now the author of thy bale to be,
6.10.29.5 |   Thus to bereaue thy loues deare sight from thee:
6.10.29.6 |   But gentle Shepheard pardon thou my shame,
6.10.29.7 |   Who rashly sought that, which I mote not see.
6.10.29.8 |   Thus did the courteous Knight excuse his blame,
6.10.29.9 | And to recomfort him, all comely meanes did frame.

6.10.30.1 | In such discourses they together spent
6.10.30.2 |   Long time, as fit occasion forth them led;
6.10.30.3 |   With which the Knight him selfe did much content,
6.10.30.4 |   And with delight his greedy fancy fed,
6.10.30.5 |   Both of his words, which he with reason red;
6.10.30.6 |   And also of the place, whose pleasures rare
6.10.30.7 |   With such regard his sences rauished,
6.10.30.8 |   That thence, he had no will away to fare,
6.10.30.9 | But wisht, that with that shepheard he mote dwelling share.

6.10.31.1 | But that enuenimd sting, the which of yore,
6.10.31.2 |   His poysnous point deepe fixed in his hart
6.10.31.3 |   Had left, now gan afresh to rancle sore,
6.10.31.4 |   And to renue the rigour of his smart:
6.10.31.5 |   Which to recure, no skill of Leaches art
6.10.31.6 |   Mote him auaile, but to returne againe
6.10.31.7 |   To his wounds worker, that with louely dart
6.10.31.8 |   Dinting his brest, had bred his restlesse paine,
6.10.31.9 | Like as the wounded Whale to shore flies from the maine.

6.10.32.1 | So taking leaue of that same gentle swaine,
6.10.32.2 |   He backe returned to his rusticke wonne,
6.10.32.3 |   Where his faire \Pastorella\ did remaine:
6.10.32.4 |   To whome in sort, as he at first begonne,
6.10.32.5 |   He daily did apply him selfe to donne
6.10.32.6 |   All dewfull seruice voide of thoughts impure:
6.10.32.7 |   Ne any paines ne perill did he shonne,
6.10.32.8 |   By which he might her to his loue allure,
6.10.32.9 | And liking in her yet vntamed heart procure.

6.10.33.1 | And euermore the shepheard \Coridon\,
6.10.33.2 |   What euer thing he did her to aggrate,
6.10.33.3 |   Did striue to match with strong contention,
6.10.33.4 |   And all his paines did closely emulate;
6.10.33.5 |   Whether it were to caroll, as they sate
6.10.33.6 |   Keeping their sheepe, or games to exercize,
6.10.33.7 |   Or to present her with their labours late;
6.10.33.8 |   Through which if any grace chaunst to arize
6.10.33.9 | To him, the Shepheard streight with iealousie did frize.

6.10.34.1 | One day as they all three together went
6.10.34.2 |   To the greene wood, to gather strawberies,
6.10.34.3 |   There chaunst to them a dangerous accident;
6.10.34.4 |   A Tigre forth out of the wood did rise,
6.10.34.5 |   That with fell clawes full of fierce gourmandize,
6.10.34.6 |   And greedy mouth, wide gaping like hell gate,
6.10.34.7 |   Did runne at \Pastorell\ her to surprize:
6.10.34.8 |   Whom she beholding, now all desolate
6.10.34.9 | Gan cry to them aloud, to helpe her all too late.

6.10.35.1 | Which \Coridon\ first hearing, ran in hast
6.10.35.2 |   To reskue her, but when he saw the feend,
6.10.35.3 |   Through cowherd feare he fled away as fast,
6.10.35.4 |   Ne durst abide the daunger of the end;
6.10.35.5 |   His life he steemed dearer then his frend.
6.10.35.6 |   But \Calidore\ soone comming to her ayde,
6.10.35.7 |   When he the beast saw ready now to rend
6.10.35.8 |   His loues deare spoile, in which his heart was prayde,
6.10.35.9 | He ran at him enraged in stead of being frayde.

6.10.36.1 | He had no weapon, but his shepheards hooke,
6.10.36.2 |   To serue the vengeaunce of his wrathfull will,
6.10.36.3 |   With which so sternely he the monster strooke,
6.10.36.4 |   That to the ground astonished he fell;
6.10.36.5 |   Whence ere he could recou'r, he did him quell,
6.10.36.6 |   And hewing off his head, {<}he{>} it presented
6.10.36.7 |   Before the feete of the faire \Pastorell\;
6.10.36.8 |   Who scarcely yet from former feare exempted,
6.10.36.9 | A thousand times him thankt, that had her death preuented.

6.10.37.1 | From that day forth she gan him to affect,
6.10.37.2 |   And daily more her fauour to augment;
6.10.37.3 |   But \Coridon\ for cowherdize reiect,
6.10.37.4 |   Fit to keepe sheepe, vnfit for loues content:
6.10.37.5 |   The gentle heart scornes base disparagement.
6.10.37.6 |   Yet \Calidore\ did not despise him quight,
6.10.37.7 |   But vsde him friendly for further intent,
6.10.37.8 |   That by his fellowship, he colour might
6.10.37.9 | Both his estate, and loue from skill of any wight.

6.10.38.1 | So well he wood her, and so well he wrought her,
6.10.38.2 |   With humble seruice, and with daily sute,
6.10.38.3 |   That at the last vnto his will he brought her;
6.10.38.4 |   Which he so wisely well did prosecute,
6.10.38.5 |   That of his loue he reapt the timely frute,
6.10.38.6 |   And ioyed long in close felicity:
6.10.38.7 |   Till fortune fraught with malice, blinde, and brute,
6.10.38.8 |   That enuies louers long prosperity,
6.10.38.9 | Blew vp a bitter storme of foule aduersity.

6.10.39.1 | It fortuned one day, when \Calidore\
6.10.39.2 |   Was hunting in the woods (as was his trade)
6.10.39.3 |   A lawlesse people, \Brigants\ hight of yore,
6.10.39.4 |   That neuer vsde to liue by plough nor spade,
6.10.39.5 |   But fed on spoile and booty, which they made
6.10.39.6 |   Vpon their neighbours, which did nigh them border,
6.10.39.7 |   The dwelling of these shepheards did inuade,
6.10.39.8 |   And spoyld their houses, and them selues did murder;
6.10.39.9 | And droue away their flocks, with other much disorder.

6.10.40.1 | Amongst the rest, the which they then did pray,
6.10.40.2 |   They spoyld old \Melibee\ of all he had,
6.10.40.3 |   And all his people captiue led away,
6.10.40.4 |   Mongst which this lucklesse mayd away was lad,
6.10.40.5 |   Faire \Pastorella\, sorrowfull and sad,
6.10.40.6 |   Most sorrowfull, most sad, that euer sight,
6.10.40.7 |   Now made the spoile of theeues and \Brigants\ bad,
6.10.40.8 |   Which was the conquest of the gentlest Knight,
6.10.40.9 | That euer liu'd, and th'=onely glory of his might.

6.10.41.1 | With them also was taken \Coridon\,
6.10.41.2 |   And carried captiue by those theeues away;
6.10.41.3 |   Who in the couert of the night, that none
6.10.41.4 |   Mote them descry, nor reskue from their pray,
6.10.41.5 |   Vnto their dwelling did them close conuay.
6.10.41.6 |   Their dwelling in a little Island was,
6.10.41.7 |   Couered with shrubby woods, in which no way
6.10.41.8 |   Appeard for people in nor out to pas,
6.10.41.9 | Nor any footing fynde for ouergrowen gras.

6.10.42.1 | For vnderneath the ground their way was made,
6.10.42.2 |   Through hollow caues, that no man mote discouer
6.10.42.3 |   For the thicke shrubs, which did them alwaies shade
6.10.42.4 |   From view of liuing wight, and couered ouer:
6.10.42.5 |   But darkenesse dred and daily night did houer
6.10.42.6 |   Through all the inner parts, wherein they dwelt,
6.10.42.7 |   Ne lightned was with window, nor with louer,
6.10.42.8 |   But with continuall candlelight, which delt
6.10.42.9 | A doubtfull sense of things, not so well seene, as felt.

6.10.43.1 | Hither those \Brigants\ brought their present pray,
6.10.43.2 |   And kept them with continuall watch and ward,
6.10.43.3 |   Meaning so soone, as they conuenient may,
6.10.43.4 |   For slaues to sell them, for no small reward,
6.10.43.5 |   To merchants, which them kept in bondage hard,
6.10.43.6 |   Or sold againe. Now when faire \Pastorell\
6.10.43.7 |   Into this place was brought, and kept with gard
6.10.43.8 |   Of griesly theeues, she thought her self in hell,
6.10.43.9 | Where with such damned fiends she should in darknesse dwell.

6.10.44.1 | But for to tell the dolefull dreriment,
6.10.44.2 |   And pittifull complaints, which there she made,
6.10.44.3 |   Where day and night she nought did but lament
6.10.44.4 |   Her wretched life, shut vp in deadly shade,
6.10.44.5 |   And waste her goodly beauty, which did fade
6.10.44.6 |   Like to a flowre, that feeles no heate of sunne,
6.10.44.7 |   Which may her feeble leaues with comfort glade.
6.10.44.8 |   But what befell her in that theeuish wonne,
6.10.44.9 | Will in an other Canto better be begonne.


6.11. A.1 | \The theeues fall out for Pastorell,\
6.11. A.2 |   \Whilest Melibee is slaine:\
6.11. A.3 | \Her Calidore from them redeemes,\
6.11. A.4 |   \And bringeth backe againe.\

6.11. 1.1 | The ioyes of loue, if they should euer last,
6.11. 1.2 |   Without affliction or disquietnesse,
6.11. 1.3 |   That worldly chaunces doe amongst them cast,
6.11. 1.4 |   Would be on earth too great a blessednesse,
6.11. 1.5 |   Liker to heauen, then mortall wretchednesse.
6.11. 1.6 |   Therefore the winged God, to let men weet,
6.11. 1.7 |   That here on earth is no sure happinesse,
6.11. 1.8 |   A thousand sowres hath tempred with one sweet,
6.11. 1.9 | To make it seeme more deare and dainty, as is meet.

6.11. 2.1 | Like as is now befalne to this faire Mayd,
6.11. 2.2 |   Faire \Pastorell\, of whom is now my song,
6.11. 2.3 |   Who being now in dreadfull darknesse layd,
6.11. 2.4 |   Amongst those theeues, which her in bondage strong
6.11. 2.5 |   Detaynd, yet Fortune not with all this wrong
6.11. 2.6 |   Contented, greater mischiefe on her threw,
6.11. 2.7 |   And sorrowes heapt on her in greater throng;
6.11. 2.8 |   That who so heares her heauinesse, would rew
6.11. 2.9 | And pitty her sad plight, so chang'd from pleasaunt hew.

6.11. 3.1 | Whylest thus she in these hellish dens remayned,
6.11. 3.2 |   Wrapped in wretched cares and hearts vnrest,
6.11. 3.3 |   It so befell (as Fortune had ordayned)
6.11. 3.4 |   That he, which was their Capitaine profest,
6.11. 3.5 |   And had the chiefe commaund of all the rest,
6.11. 3.6 |   One day as he did all his prisoners vew,
6.11. 3.7 |   With lustfull eyes, beheld that louely guest,
6.11. 3.8 |   Faire \Pastorella\, whose sad mournefull hew
6.11. 3.9 | Like the faire Morning clad in misty fog did shew.

6.11. 4.1 | At sight whereof his barbarous heart was fired,
6.11. 4.2 |   And inly burnt with flames most raging whot,
6.11. 4.3 |   That her alone he for his part desired
6.11. 4.4 |   Of all the other pray, which they had got,
6.11. 4.5 |   And her in mynde did to him selfe allot.
6.11. 4.6 |   From that day forth he kyndnesse to her showed,
6.11. 4.7 |   And sought her loue, by all the meanes he mote;
6.11. 4.8 |   With looks, with words, with gifts he oft her wowed;
6.11. 4.9 | And mixed threats among, and much vnto her vowed.

6.11. 5.1 | But all that euer he could doe or say,
6.11. 5.2 |   Her constant mynd could not a whit remoue,
6.11. 5.3 |   Nor draw vnto the lure of his lewd lay,
6.11. 5.4 |   To graunt him fauour, or afford him loue.
6.11. 5.5 |   Yet ceast he not to sew and all waies proue,
6.11. 5.6 |   By which he mote accomplish his request,
6.11. 5.7 |   Saying and doing all that mote behoue;
6.11. 5.8 |   Ne day nor night he suffred her to rest,
6.11. 5.9 | But her all night did watch, and all the day molest.

6.11. 6.1 | At last when him she so importune saw,
6.11. 6.2 |   Fearing least he at length the raines would lend
6.11. 6.3 |   Vnto his lust, and make his will his law,
6.11. 6.4 |   Sith in his powre she was to foe or frend,
6.11. 6.5 |   She thought it best, for shadow to pretend
6.11. 6.6 |   Some shew of fauour, by him gracing small,
6.11. 6.7 |   That she thereby mote either freely wend,
6.11. 6.8 |   Or at more ease continue there his thrall:
6.11. 6.9 | A little well is lent, that gaineth more withall.

6.11. 7.1 | So from thenceforth, when loue he to her made,
6.11. 7.2 |   With better tearmes she did him entertaine,
6.11. 7.3 |   Which gaue him hope, and did him halfe perswade,
6.11. 7.4 |   That he in time her ioyaunce should obtaine.
6.11. 7.5 |   But when she saw, through that small fauours gaine,
6.11. 7.6 |   That further, then she willing was, he prest,
6.11. 7.7 |   She found no meanes to barre him, but to faine
6.11. 7.8 |   A sodaine sickenesse, which her sore opprest,
6.11. 7.9 | And made vnfit to serue his lawlesse mindes behest.

6.11. 8.1 | By meanes whereof she would not him permit
6.11. 8.2 |   Once to approch to her in priuity,
6.11. 8.3 |   But onely mongst the rest by her to sit,
6.11. 8.4 |   Mourning the rigour of her malady,
6.11. 8.5 |   And seeking all things meete for remedy.
6.11. 8.6 |   But she resolu'd no remedy to fynde,
6.11. 8.7 |   Nor better cheare to shew in misery,
6.11. 8.8 |   Till Fortune would her captiue bonds vnbynde,
6.11. 8.9 | Her sickenesse was not of the body but the mynde.

6.11. 9.1 | During which space that she thus sicke did lie,
6.11. 9.2 |   It chaunst a sort of merchants, which were wount
6.11. 9.3 |   To skim those coastes, for bondmen there to buy,
6.11. 9.4 |   And by such trafficke after gaines to hunt,
6.11. 9.5 |   Arriued in this Isle though bare and blunt,
6.11. 9.6 |   T'=inquire for slaues; where being readie met
6.11. 9.7 |   By some of these same theeues at the instant brunt,
6.11. 9.8 |   Were brought vnto their Captaine, who was set
6.11. 9.9 | By his faire patients side with sorrowfull regret.

6.11.10.1 | To whom they shewed, how those marchants were
6.11.10.2 |   Arriu'd in place, their bondslaues for to buy,
6.11.10.3 |   And therefore prayd, that those same captiues there
6.11.10.4 |   Mote to them for their most commodity
6.11.10.5 |   Be sold, and mongst them shared equally.
6.11.10.6 |   This their request the Captaine much appalled;
6.11.10.7 |   Yet could he not their iust demaund deny,
6.11.10.8 |   And willed streight the slaues should forth be called,
6.11.10.9 | And sold for most aduantage not to be forstalled.

6.11.11.1 | Then forth the good old \Melibo+e\ was brought,
6.11.11.2 |   And \Coridon\, with many other moe,
6.11.11.3 |   Whom they before in diuerse spoyles had caught:
6.11.11.4 |   All which he to the marchants sale did showe.
6.11.11.5 |   Till some, which did the sundry prisoners knowe,
6.11.11.6 |   Gan to inquire for that faire shepherdesse,
6.11.11.7 |   Which with the rest they tooke not long agoe,
6.11.11.8 |   And gan her forme and feature to expresse,
6.11.11.9 | The more t'=augment her price, through praise of comlinesse.

6.11.12.1 | To whom the Captaine in full angry wize
6.11.12.2 |   Made answere, that the Mayd of whom they spake,
6.11.12.3 |   Was his owne purchase and his onely prize,
6.11.12.4 |   With which none had to doe, ne ought partake,
6.11.12.5 |   But he himselfe, which did that conquest make;
6.11.12.6 |   Litle for him to haue one silly lasse:
6.11.12.7 |   Besides through sicknesse now so wan and weake,
6.11.12.8 |   That nothing meet in marchandise to passe.
6.11.12.9 | So shew'd them her, to proue how pale and weake she was.

6.11.13.1 | The sight of whom, though now decayd and mard,
6.11.13.2 |   And eke but hardly seene by candle-light,
6.11.13.3 |   Yet like a Diamond of rich regard,
6.11.13.4 |   In doubtfull shadow of the darkesome night,
6.11.13.5 |   With starrie beames about her shining bright,
6.11.13.6 |   These marchants fixed eyes did so amaze,
6.11.13.7 |   That what through wonder, and what through delight,
6.11.13.8 |   A while on her they greedily did gaze,
6.11.13.9 | And did her greatly like, and did her greatly praize.

6.11.14.1 | At last when all the rest them offred were,
6.11.14.2 |   And prises to them placed at their pleasure,
6.11.14.3 |   They all refused in regard of her,
6.11.14.4 |   Ne ought would buy, how euer prisd with measure,
6.11.14.5 |   Withouten her, whose worth aboue all threasure
6.11.14.6 |   They did esteeme, and offred store of gold.
6.11.14.7 |   But then the Captaine fraught with more displeasure,
6.11.14.8 |   Bad them be still, his loue should not be sold:
6.11.14.9 | The rest take if they would, he her to him would hold.

6.11.15.1 | Therewith some other of the chiefest theeues
6.11.15.2 |   Boldly him bad such iniurie forbeare;
6.11.15.3 |   For that same mayd, how euer it him greeues,
6.11.15.4 |   Should with the rest be sold before him theare,
6.11.15.5 |   To make the prises of the rest more deare.
6.11.15.6 |   That with great rage he stoutly doth denay;
6.11.15.7 |   And fiercely drawing forth his blade, doth sweare,
6.11.15.8 |   That who so hardie hand on her doth lay,
6.11.15.9 | It dearely shall aby, and death for handsell pay.

6.11.16.1 | Thus as they words amongst them multiply,
6.11.16.2 |   They fall to strokes, the frute of too much talke,
6.11.16.3 |   And the mad steele about doth fiercely fly,
6.11.16.4 |   Not sparing wight, ne leauing any balke,
6.11.16.5 |   But making way for death at large to walke:
6.11.16.6 |   Who in the horror of the griesly night,
6.11.16.7 |   In thousand dreadful shapes doth mongst them stalke,
6.11.16.8 |   And makes huge hauocke, whiles the candlelight
6.11.16.9 | Out quenched, leaues no skill nor difference of wight.

6.11.17.1 | Like as a sort of hungry dogs ymet
6.11.17.2 |   About some carcase by the common way,
6.11.17.3 |   Doe fall together, stryuing each to get
6.11.17.4 |   The greatest portion of the greedie pray;
6.11.17.5 |   All on confused heapes themselues assay,
6.11.17.6 |   And snatch, and byte, and rend, and tug, and teare;
6.11.17.7 |   That who them sees, would wonder at their fray,
6.11.17.8 |   And who sees not, would be affrayd to heare.
6.11.17.9 | Such was the conflict of those cruell \Brigants\ there.

6.11.18.1 | But first of all, their captiues they doe kill,
6.11.18.2 |   Least they should ioyne against the weaker side,
6.11.18.3 |   Or rise against the remnant at their will;
6.11.18.4 |   Old \Melibo+e\ is slaine, and him beside
6.11.18.5 |   His aged wife, with many others wide,
6.11.18.6 |   But \Coridon\ escaping craftily,
6.11.18.7 |   Creepes forth of dores, whilst darknes him doth hide,
6.11.18.8 |   And flyes away as fast as he can hye,
6.11.18.9 | Ne stayeth leaue to take, before his friends doe dye.

6.11.19.1 | But \Pastorella\, wofull wretched Elfe,
6.11.19.2 |   Was by the Captaine all this while defended,
6.11.19.3 |   Who minding more her safety then himselfe,
6.11.19.4 |   His target alwayes ouer her pretended;
6.11.19.5 |   By meanes whereof, that mote not be amended,
6.11.19.6 |   He at the length was slaine, and layd on ground,
6.11.19.7 |   Yet holding fast twixt both his armes extended
6.11.19.8 |   Fayre \Pastorell\, who with the selfe same wound
6.11.19.9 | Launcht through the arme, fell down with him in drerie swound.

6.11.20.1 | There lay she couered with confused preasse
6.11.20.2 |   Of carcases, which dying on her fell.
6.11.20.3 |   Tho when as he was dead, the fray gan ceasse,
6.11.20.4 |   And each to other calling, did compell
6.11.20.5 |   To stay their cruell hands from slaughter fell,
6.11.20.6 |   Sith they that were the cause of all, were gone.
6.11.20.7 |   Thereto they all attonce agreed well,
6.11.20.8 |   And lighting candles new, gan search anone,
6.11.20.9 | How many of their friends were slaine, how many fone.

6.11.21.1 | Their Captaine there they cruelly found kild,
6.11.21.2 |   And in his armes the dreary dying mayd,
6.11.21.3 |   Like a sweet Angell twixt two clouds vphild:
6.11.21.4 |   Her louely light was dimmed and decayd,
6.11.21.5 |   With cloud of death vpon her eyes displayd;
6.11.21.6 |   Yet did the cloud make euen that dimmed light
6.11.21.7 |   Seeme much more louely in that darknesse layd,
6.11.21.8 |   And twixt the twinckling of her eye-lids bright,
6.11.21.9 | To sparke out litle beames, like starres in foggie night.

6.11.22.1 | But when they mou'd the carcases aside,
6.11.22.2 |   They found that life did yet in her remaine:
6.11.22.3 |   Then all their helpes they busily applyde,
6.11.22.4 |   To call the soule backe to her home againe;
6.11.22.5 |   And wrought so well with labour and long paine,
6.11.22.6 |   That they to life recouered her at last.
6.11.22.7 |   Who sighing sore, as if her hart in twaine
6.11.22.8 |   Had riuen bene, and all her hart strings brast,
6.11.22.9 | With drearie drouping eyne lookt vp like one aghast.

6.11.23.1 | There she beheld, that sore her grieu'd to see,
6.11.23.2 |   Her father and her friends about her lying,
6.11.23.3 |   Her selfe sole left, a second spoyle to bee
6.11.23.4 |   Of those, that hauing saued her from dying,
6.11.23.5 |   Renew'd her death by timely death denying:
6.11.23.6 |   What now is left her, but to wayle and weepe,
6.11.23.7 |   Wringing her hands, and ruefully loud crying?
6.11.23.8 |   Ne cared she her wound in teares to steepe,
6.11.23.9 | Albe with all their might those \Brigants\ her did keepe.

6.11.24.1 | But when they saw her now reliu'd againe,
6.11.24.2 |   They left her so, in charge of one the best
6.11.24.3 |   Of many worst, who with vnkind disdaine
6.11.24.4 |   And cruell rigour her did much molest;
6.11.24.5 |   Scarse yeelding her due food, or timely rest,
6.11.24.6 |   And scarsely suffring her infestred wound,
6.11.24.7 |   That sore her payn'd, by any to be drest.
6.11.24.8 |   So leaue we her in wretched thraldome bound,
6.11.24.9 | And turne we backe to \Calidore\, where we him found.

6.11.25.1 | Who when he backe returned from the wood,
6.11.25.2 |   And saw his shepheards cottage spoyled quight,
6.11.25.3 |   And his loue reft away, he wexed wood,
6.11.25.4 |   And halfe enraged at that ruefull sight,
6.11.25.5 |   That euen his hart for very fell despight,
6.11.25.6 |   And his owne flesh he readie was to teare,
6.11.25.7 |   He chauft, he grieu'd, he fretted, and he sight,
6.11.25.8 |   And fared like a furious wyld Beare,
6.11.25.9 | Whose whelpes are stolne away, she being otherwhere.

6.11.26.1 | Ne wight he found, to whom he might complaine,
6.11.26.2 |   Ne wight he found, of whom he might inquire;
6.11.26.3 |   That more increast the anguish of his paine.
6.11.26.4 |   He sought the woods; but no man could see there:
6.11.26.5 |   He sought the plaines; but could no tydings heare.
6.11.26.6 |   The woods did nought but ecchoes vaine rebound;
6.11.26.7 |   The playnes all waste and emptie did appeare:
6.11.26.8 |   Where wont the shepheards oft their pypes resound,
6.11.26.9 | And feed an hundred flocks, there now not one he found.

6.11.27.1 | At last as there he romed vp and downe,
6.11.27.2 |   He chaunst one comming towards him to spy,
6.11.27.3 |   That seem'd to be some sorie simple clowne,
6.11.27.4 |   With ragged weedes, and lockes vpstaring hye,
6.11.27.5 |   As if he did from some late daunger fly,
6.11.27.6 |   And yet his feare did follow him behynd:
6.11.27.7 |   Who as he vnto him approched nye,
6.11.27.8 |   He mote perceiue by signes, which he did fynd,
6.11.27.9 | That \Coridon\ it was, the silly shepherds hynd.

6.11.28.1 | Tho to him running fast, he did not stay
6.11.28.2 |   To greet him first, but askt were where the rest;
6.11.28.3 |   Where \Pastorell\? who full of fresh dismay,
6.11.28.4 |   And gushing forth in teares, was so opprest,
6.11.28.5 |   That he no word could speake, but smit his brest,
6.11.28.6 |   And vp to heauen his eyes fast streming threw.
6.11.28.7 |   Whereat the knight amaz'd, yet did not rest,
6.11.28.8 |   But askt againe, what ment that rufull hew;
6.11.28.9 | Where was his \Pastorell\? where all the other crew?

6.11.29.1 | Ah well away (sayd he then sighing sore)
6.11.29.2 |   That euer I did liue, this day to see,
6.11.29.3 |   This dismall day, and was not dead before,
6.11.29.4 |   Before I saw faire \Pastorella\ dye.
6.11.29.5 |   Die? out alas! then \Calidore\ did cry:
6.11.29.6 |   How could the death dare euer her to quell?
6.11.29.7 |   But read thou shepheard, read what destiny,
6.11.29.8 |   Or other dyrefull hap from heauen or hell
6.11.29.9 | Hath wrought this wicked deed, doe feare away, and tell.

6.11.30.1 | Tho when the shepheard breathed had a whyle,
6.11.30.2 |   He thus began: Where shall I then commence
6.11.30.3 |   This wofull tale? or how those \Brigants\ vyle,
6.11.30.4 |   With cruell rage and dreadfull violence
6.11.30.5 |   Spoyld all our cots, and caried vs from hence?
6.11.30.6 |   Or how faire \Pastorell\ should haue bene sold
6.11.30.7 |   To marchants, but was sau'd with strong defence?
6.11.30.8 |   Or how those theeues, whilest one sought her to hold,
6.11.30.9 | Fell all at ods, and fought through fury fierce and bold.

6.11.31.1 | In that same conflict (woe is me) befell
6.11.31.2 |   This fatall chaunce, this dolefull accident,
6.11.31.3 |   Whose heauy tydings now I haue to tell.
6.11.31.4 |   First all the captiues, which they here had hent,
6.11.31.5 |   Were by them slaine by generall consent;
6.11.31.6 |   Old \Melibo+e\ and his good wife withall
6.11.31.7 |   These eyes saw die, and dearely did lament:
6.11.31.8 |   But when the lot to \Pastorell\ did fall,
6.11.31.9 | Their Captaine long withstood, and did her death forstall.

6.11.32.1 | But what could he gainst all them doe alone?
6.11.32.2 |   It could not boot, needs mote she die at last:
6.11.32.3 |   I onely scapt through great confusione
6.11.32.4 |   Of cryes and clamors, which amongst them past,
6.11.32.5 |   In dreadfull darknesse dreadfully aghast;
6.11.32.6 |   That better were with them to haue bene dead,
6.11.32.7 |   Then here to see all desolate and wast,
6.11.32.8 |   Despoyled of those ioyes and iollyhead,
6.11.32.9 | Which with those gentle shepherds here I wont to lead.

6.11.33.1 | When \Calidore\ these ruefull newes had raught,
6.11.33.2 |   His hart quite deaded was with anguish great,
6.11.33.3 |   And all his wits with doole were nigh distraught,
6.11.33.4 |   That he his face, his head, his brest did beat,
6.11.33.5 |   And death it selfe vnto himselfe did threat;
6.11.33.6 |   Oft cursing th'=heauens, that so cruell were
6.11.33.7 |   To her, whose name he often did repeat;
6.11.33.8 |   And wishing oft, that he were present there,
6.11.33.9 | When she was slaine, or had bene to her succour nere.

6.11.34.1 | But after griefe awhile had had his course,
6.11.34.2 |   And spent it selfe in mourning, he at last
6.11.34.3 |   Began to mitigate his swelling sourse,
6.11.34.4 |   And in his mind with better reason cast,
6.11.34.5 |   How he might saue her life, if life did last;
6.11.34.6 |   Or if that dead, how he her death might wreake,
6.11.34.7 |   Sith otherwise he could not mend thing past;
6.11.34.8 |   Or if it to reuenge he were too weake,
6.11.34.9 | Then for to die with her, and his liues threed to breake.

6.11.35.1 | Tho \Coridon\ he prayd, sith he well knew
6.11.35.2 |   The readie way vnto that theeuish wonne,
6.11.35.3 |   To wend with him, and be his conduct trew
6.11.35.4 |   Vnto the place, to see what should be donne.
6.11.35.5 |   But he, whose hart through feare was late fordonne,
6.11.35.6 |   Would not for ought be drawne to former drede,
6.11.35.7 |   But by all meanes the daunger knowne did shonne:
6.11.35.8 |   Yet \Calidore\ so well him wrought with meed,
6.11.35.9 | And faire bespoke with words, that he at last agreed.

6.11.36.1 | So forth they goe together (God before)
6.11.36.2 |   Both clad in shepheards weeds agreeably,
6.11.36.3 |   And both with shepheards hookes: But \Calidore\
6.11.36.4 |   Had vnderneath, him armed priuily.
6.11.36.5 |   Tho to the place when they approched nye,
6.11.36.6 |   They chaunst, vpon an hill not farre away,
6.11.36.7 |   Some flockes of sheepe and shepheards to espy;
6.11.36.8 |   To whom they both agreed to take their way,
6.11.36.9 | In hope there newes to learne, how they mote best assay.

6.11.37.1 | There did they find, that which they did not feare,
6.11.37.2 |   The selfe same flocks, the which those theeues had reft
6.11.37.3 |   From \Melibo+e\ and from themselues whyleare,
6.11.37.4 |   And certaine of the theeues there by them left,
6.11.37.5 |   The which for want of heards themselues then kept.
6.11.37.6 |   Right well knew \Coridon\ his owne late sheepe,
6.11.37.7 |   And seeing them, for tender pittie wept:
6.11.37.8 |   But when he saw the theeues, which did them keepe,
6.11.37.9 | His hart gan fayle, albe he saw them all asleepe.

6.11.38.1 | But \Calidore\ recomforting his griefe,
6.11.38.2 |   Though not his feare; for nought may feare disswade;
6.11.38.3 |   Him hardly forward drew, whereas the thiefe
6.11.38.4 |   Lay sleeping soundly in the bushes shade,
6.11.38.5 |   Whom \Coridon\ him counseld to inuade
6.11.38.6 |   Now all vnwares, and take the spoyle away;
6.11.38.7 |   But he, that in his mind had closely made
6.11.38.8 |   A further purpose, would not so them slay,
6.11.38.9 | But gently waking them, gaue them the time of day.

6.11.39.1 | Tho sitting downe by them vpon the greene,
6.11.39.2 |   Of sundrie things he purpose gan to faine;
6.11.39.3 |   That he by them might certaine tydings weene
6.11.39.4 |   Of \Pastorell\, were she aliue or slaine.
6.11.39.5 |   Mongst which the theeues them questioned againe,
6.11.39.6 |   What mister men, and eke from whence they were.
6.11.39.7 |   To whom they answer'd, as did appertaine,
6.11.39.8 |   That they were poore heardgroomes, the which whylere
6.11.39.9 | Had from their maisters fled, and now sought hyre elswhere.

6.11.40.1 | Whereof right glad they seem'd, and offer made
6.11.40.2 |   To hyre them well, if they their flockes would keepe:
6.11.40.3 |   For they themselues were euill groomes, they sayd,
6.11.40.4 |   Vnwont with heards to watch, or pasture sheepe,
6.11.40.5 |   But to forray the land, or scoure the deepe.
6.11.40.6 |   Thereto they soone agreed, and earnest tooke,
6.11.40.7 |   To keepe their flockes for litle hyre and chepe:
6.11.40.8 |   For they for better hyre did shortly looke,
6.11.40.9 | So there all day they bode, till light the sky forsooke.

6.11.41.1 | Tho when as towards darksome night it drew,
6.11.41.2 |   Vnto their hellish dens those theeues them brought,
6.11.41.3 |   Where shortly they in great acquaintance grew,
6.11.41.4 |   And all the secrets of their entrayles sought.
6.11.41.5 |   There did they find, contrarie to their thought,
6.11.41.6 |   That \Pastorell\ yet liu'd, but all the rest
6.11.41.7 |   Were dead, right so as \Coridon\ had taught:
6.11.41.8 |   Whereof they both full glad and blyth did rest,
6.11.41.9 | But chiefly \Calidore\, whom griefe had most possest.

6.11.42.1 | At length when they occasion fittest found,
6.11.42.2 |   In dead of night, when all the theeues did rest
6.11.42.3 |   After a late forray, and slept full sound,
6.11.42.4 |   Sir \Calidore\ him arm'd, as he thought best,
6.11.42.5 |   Hauing of late by diligent inquest,
6.11.42.6 |   Prouided him a sword of meanest sort:
6.11.42.7 |   With which he streight went to the Captaines nest.
6.11.42.8 |   But \Coridon\ durst not with him consort,
6.11.42.9 | Ne durst abide behind, for dread of worse effort.

6.11.43.1 | When to the Caue they came, they found it fast:
6.11.43.2 |   But \Calidore\ with huge resistlesse might,
6.11.43.3 |   The dores assayled, and the locks vpbrast.
6.11.43.4 |   With noyse whereof the theefe awaking light,
6.11.43.5 |   Vnto the entrance ran: where the bold knight
6.11.43.6 |   Encountring him with small resistance slew;
6.11.43.7 |   The whiles faire \Pastorell\ through great affright
6.11.43.8 |   Was almost dead, misdoubting least of new
6.11.43.9 | Some vprore were like that, which lately she did vew.

6.11.44.1 | But when as \Calidore\ was comen in,
6.11.44.2 |   And gan aloud for \Pastorell\ to call,
6.11.44.3 |   Knowing his voice although not heard long sin,
6.11.44.4 |   She sudden was reuiued therewithall,
6.11.44.5 |   And wondrous ioy felt in her spirits thrall:
6.11.44.6 |   Like him that being long in tempest tost,
6.11.44.7 |   Looking each houre into deathes mouth to fall,
6.11.44.8 |   At length espyes at hand the happie cost,
6.11.44.9 | On which he safety hopes, that earst feard to be lost.

6.11.45.1 | Her gentle hart, that now long season past
6.11.45.2 |   Had neuer ioyance felt, nor chearefull thought,
6.11.45.3 |   Began some smacke of comfort new to tast,
6.11.45.4 |   Like lyfull heat to nummed senses brought,
6.11.45.5 |   And life to feele, that long for death had sought;
6.11.45.6 |   Ne lesse in hart reioyced \Calidore\,
6.11.45.7 |   When he her found, but like to one distraught
6.11.45.8 |   And robd of reason, towards her him bore,
6.11.45.9 | A thousand times embrast, and kist a thousand more.

6.11.46.1 | But now by this, with noyse of late vprore,
6.11.46.2 |   The hue and cry was raysed all about;
6.11.46.3 |   And all the \Brigants\ flocking in great store,
6.11.46.4 |   Vnto the caue gan preasse, nought hauing dout
6.11.46.5 |   Of that was doen, and entred in a rout.
6.11.46.6 |   But \Calidore\ in th'=entry close did stand,
6.11.46.7 |   And entertayning them with courage stout,
6.11.46.8 |   Still slew the formost, that came first to hand,
6.11.46.9 | So long till all the entry was with bodies mand.

6.11.47.1 | Tho when no more could nigh to him approch,
6.11.47.2 |   He breath'd his sword, and rested him till day,
6.11.47.3 |   Which when he spyde vpon the earth t'=encroch,
6.11.47.4 |   Through the dead carcases he made his way,
6.11.47.5 |   Mongst which he found a sword of better say,
6.11.47.6 |   With which he forth went into th'=open light:
6.11.47.7 |   Where all the rest for him did readie stay,
6.11.47.8 |   And fierce assayling him, with all their might
6.11.47.9 | Gan all vpon him lay: there gan a dreadfull fight.

6.11.48.1 | How many flyes in whottest sommers day
6.11.48.2 |   Do seize vpon some beast, whose flesh is bare,
6.11.48.3 |   That all the place with swarmes do ouerlay,
6.11.48.4 |   And with their litle stings right felly fare,
6.11.48.5 |   So many theeues about him swarming are,
6.11.48.6 |   All which do him assayle on euery side,
6.11.48.7 |   And sore oppresse, ne any him doth spare:
6.11.48.8 |   But he doth with his raging brond diuide
6.11.48.9 | Their thickest troups, and round about him scattreth wide.

6.11.49.1 | Like as a Lion mongst an heard of dere,
6.11.49.2 |   Disperseth them to catch his choysest pray,
6.11.49.3 |   So did he fly amongst them here and there,
6.11.49.4 |   And all that nere him came, did hew and slay,
6.11.49.5 |   Till he had strowd with bodies all the way;
6.11.49.6 |   That none his daunger daring to abide,
6.11.49.7 |   Fled from his wrath, and did themselues conuay
6.11.49.8 |   Into their caues, their heads from death to hide,
6.11.49.9 | Ne any left, that victorie to him enuide.

6.11.50.1 | Then backe returning to his dearest deare,
6.11.50.2 |   He her gan to recomfort, all he might,
6.11.50.3 |   With gladfull speaches, and with louely cheare,
6.11.50.4 |   And forth her bringing to the ioyous light,
6.11.50.5 |   Whereof she long had lackt the wishfull sight,
6.11.50.6 |   Deuiz'd all goodly meanes, from her to driue
6.11.50.7 |   The sad remembrance of her wretched plight.
6.11.50.8 |   So her vneath at last he did reuiue,
6.11.50.9 | That long had lyen dead, and made againe aliue.

6.11.51.1 | This doen, into those theeuish dens he went,
6.11.51.2 |   And thence did all the spoyles and threasures take,
6.11.51.3 |   Which they from many long had robd and rent,
6.11.51.4 |   But fortune now the victors meed did make;
6.11.51.5 |   Of which the best he did his loue betake;
6.11.51.6 |   And also all those flockes, which they before
6.11.51.7 |   Had reft from \Melibo+e\ and from his make,
6.11.51.8 |   He did them all to \Coridon\ restore.
6.11.51.9 | So droue them all away, and his loue with him bore.


6.12. A.1 | \Fayre Pastorella by great hap\
6.12. A.2 |   \her parents vnderstands,\
6.12. A.3 | \Calidore doth the Blatant beast\
6.12. A.4 |   \subdew, and bynd in bands.\

6.12. 1.1 | Like as a ship, that through the Ocean wyde
6.12. 1.2 |   Directs her course vnto one certaine cost,
6.12. 1.3 |   Is met of many a counter winde and tyde,
6.12. 1.4 |   With which her winged speed is let and crost,
6.12. 1.5 |   And she her selfe in stormie surges tost;
6.12. 1.6 |   Yet making many a borde, and many a bay,
6.12. 1.7 |   Still winneth way, ne hath her compasse lost:
6.12. 1.8 |   Right so it fares with me in this long way,
6.12. 1.9 | Whose course is often stayd, yet neuer is astray.

6.12. 2.1 | For all that hetherto hath long delayd
6.12. 2.2 |   This gentle knight, from sewing his first quest,
6.12. 2.3 |   Though out of course, yet hath not bene mis-sayd,
6.12. 2.4 |   To shew the courtesie by him profest,
6.12. 2.5 |   Euen vnto the lowest and the least.
6.12. 2.6 |   But now I come into my course againe,
6.12. 2.7 |   To his atchieuement of the \Blatant beast\;
6.12. 2.8 |   Who all this while at will did range and raine,
6.12. 2.9 | Whilst none was him to stop, nor none him to restraine.

6.12. 3.1 | Sir \Calidore\ when thus he now had raught
6.12. 3.2 |   Faire \Pastorella\ from those \Brigants\ powre,
6.12. 3.3 |   Vnto the Castle of \Belgard\ her brought,
6.12. 3.4 |   Whereof was Lord the good Sir \Bellamoure\;
6.12. 3.5 |   Who whylome was in his youthes freshest flowre
6.12. 3.6 |   A lustie knight, as euer wielded speare,
6.12. 3.7 |   And had endured many a dreadfull stoure
6.12. 3.8 |   In bloudy battell for a Ladie deare,
6.12. 3.9 | The fayrest Ladie then of all that liuing were.

6.12. 4.1 | Her name was \Claribell\, whose father hight
6.12. 4.2 |   The Lord of \Many Ilands\, farre renound
6.12. 4.3 |   For his great riches and his greater might.
6.12. 4.4 |   He through the wealth, wherein he did abound,
6.12. 4.5 |   This daughter thought in wedlocke to haue bound
6.12. 4.6 |   Vnto the Prince of \Picteland\ bordering nere,
6.12. 4.7 |   But she whose sides before with secret wound
6.12. 4.8 |   Of loue to \Bellamoure\ empierced were,
6.12. 4.9 | By all meanes shund to match with any forrein fere.

6.12. 5.1 | And \Bellamour\ againe so well her pleased,
6.12. 5.2 |   With dayly seruice and attendance dew,
6.12. 5.3 |   That of her loue he was entyrely seized,
6.12. 5.4 |   And closely did her wed, but knowne to few.
6.12. 5.5 |   Which when her father vnderstood, he grew
6.12. 5.6 |   In so great rage, that them in dongeon deepe
6.12. 5.7 |   Without compassion cruelly he threw;
6.12. 5.8 |   Ye did so streightly them a sunder keepe,
6.12. 5.9 | That neither could to company of th'=other creepe.

6.12. 6.1 | Nathlesse Sir \Bellamour\, whether through grace
6.12. 6.2 |   Or secret guifts so with his keepers wrought,
6.12. 6.3 |   That to his loue sometimes he came in place,
6.12. 6.4 |   Whereof her wombe vnwist to wight was fraught,
6.12. 6.5 |   And in dew time a mayden child forth brought.
6.12. 6.6 |   Which she streight way for dread least, if her syre
6.12. 6.7 |   Should know thereof, to slay he would haue sought,
6.12. 6.8 |   Deliuered to her handmayd, that for hyre
6.12. 6.9 | She should it cause be fostred vnder straunge attyre.

6.12. 7.1 | The trustie damzell bearing it abrode
6.12. 7.2 |   Into the emptie fields, where liuing wight
6.12. 7.3 |   Mote not bewray the secret of her lode,
6.12. 7.4 |   She forth gan lay vnto the open light
6.12. 7.5 |   The litle babe, to take thereof a sight.
6.12. 7.6 |   Whom whylest she did with watrie eyne behold,
6.12. 7.7 |   Vpon the litle brest like christall bright,
6.12. 7.8 |   She mote perceiue a litle purple mold,
6.12. 7.9 | That like a rose her silken leaues did faire vnfold.

6.12. 8.1 | Well she it markt, and pittied the more,
6.12. 8.2 |   Yet could not remedie her wretched case,
6.12. 8.3 |   But closing it againe like as before,
6.12. 8.4 |   Bedeaw'd with teares there left it in the place:
6.12. 8.5 |   Yet left not quite, but drew a litle space
6.12. 8.6 |   Behind the bushes, where she her did hyde,
6.12. 8.7 |   To weet what mortall hand, or heauens grace
6.12. 8.8 |   Would for the wretched infants helpe prouyde,
6.12. 8.9 | For which it loudly cald, and pittifully cryde.

6.12. 9.1 | At length a Shepheard, which there by did keepe
6.12. 9.2 |   His fleecie flocke vpon the playnes around,
6.12. 9.3 |   Led with the infants cry, that loud did weepe,
6.12. 9.4 |   Came to the place, where when he wrapped found
6.12. 9.5 |   Th'=abandond spoyle, he softly it vnbound;
6.12. 9.6 |   And seeing there, that did him pittie sore,
6.12. 9.7 |   He tooke it vp, and in his mantle wound;
6.12. 9.8 |   So home vnto his honest wife it bore,
6.12. 9.9 | Who as her owne it nurst, and named euermore.

6.12.10.1 | Thus long continu'd \Claribell\ a thrall,
6.12.10.2 |   And \Bellamour\ in bands, till that her syre
6.12.10.3 |   Departed life, and left vnto them all.
6.12.10.4 |   Then all the stormes of fortunes former yre
6.12.10.5 |   Were turnd, and they to freedome did retyre.
6.12.10.6 |   Thenceforth they ioy'd in happinesse together,
6.12.10.7 |   And liued long in peace and loue entyre,
6.12.10.8 |   Without disquiet or dislike of ether,
6.12.10.9 | Till time that \Calidore\ brought \Pastorella\ thether.

6.12.11.1 | Both whom they goodly well did entertaine;
6.12.11.2 |   For \Bellamour\ knew \Calidore\ right well,
6.12.11.3 |   And loued for his prowesse, sith they twaine
6.12.11.4 |   Long since had fought in field. Als \Claribell\
6.12.11.5 |   No lesse did tender the faire \Pastorell\,
6.12.11.6 |   Seeing her weake and wan, through durance long.
6.12.11.7 |   There they a while together thus did dwell
6.12.11.8 |   In much delight, and many ioyes among,
6.12.11.9 | Vntill the damzell gan to wex more sound and strong.

6.12.12.1 | Tho gan Sir \Calidore\ him to aduize
6.12.12.2 |   Of his first quest, which he had long forlore,
6.12.12.3 |   Asham'd to thinke, how he that enterprize,
6.12.12.4 |   The which the Faery Queene had long afore
6.12.12.5 |   Bequeath'd to him, forslacked had so sore;
6.12.12.6 |   That much he feared, least reprochfull blame
6.12.12.7 |   With foule dishonour him mote blot therefore;
6.12.12.8 |   Besides the losse of so much loos and fame,
6.12.12.9 | As through the world thereby should glorifie his name.

6.12.13.1 | Therefore resoluing to returne in hast
6.12.13.2 |   Vnto so great atchieuement, he bethought
6.12.13.3 |   To leaue his loue, now perill being past,
6.12.13.4 |   With \Claribell\, whylest he that monster sought
6.12.13.5 |   Throughout the world, and to destruction brought.
6.12.13.6 |   So taking leaue of his faire \Pastorell\,
6.12.13.7 |   Whom to recomfort, all the meanes he wrought,
6.12.13.8 |   With thanks to \Bellamour\ and \Claribell\,
6.12.13.9 | He went forth on his quest, and did, that him befell.

6.12.14.1 | But first, ere I doe his aduentures tell,
6.12.14.2 |   In this exploite, me needeth to declare,
6.12.14.3 |   What did betide to the faire \Pastorell\,
6.12.14.4 |   During his absence left in heauy care,
6.12.14.5 |   Through daily mourning, and nightly misfare:
6.12.14.6 |   Yet did that auncient matrone all she might,
6.12.14.7 |   To cherish her with all things choice and rare;
6.12.14.8 |   And her owne handmayd, that \Melissa\ hight,
6.12.14.9 | Appointed to attend her dewly day and night.

6.12.15.1 | Who in a morning, when this Mayden faire
6.12.15.2 |   Was dighting her, hauing her snowy brest
6.12.15.3 |   As yet not laced, nor her golden haire
6.12.15.4 |   Into their comely tresses dewly drest,
6.12.15.5 |   Chaunst to espy vpon her yuory chest
6.12.15.6 |   The rosie marke, which she remembred well
6.12.15.7 |   That litle Infant had, which forth she kest,
6.12.15.8 |   The daughter of her Lady \Claribell\,
6.12.15.9 | The which she bore, the whiles in prison she did dwell.

6.12.16.1 | Which well auizing, streight she gan to cast
6.12.16.2 |   In her conceiptfull mynd, that this faire Mayd
6.12.16.3 |   Was that same infant, which so long sith past
6.12.16.4 |   She in the open fields had loosely layd
6.12.16.5 |   To fortunes spoile, vnable it to ayd.
6.12.16.6 |   So full of ioy, streight forth she ran in hast
6.12.16.7 |   Vnto her mistresse, being halfe dismayd,
6.12.16.8 |   To tell her, how the heauens had her graste,
6.12.16.9 | To saue her chylde, which in misfortunes mouth was plaste.

6.12.17.1 | The sober mother seeing such her mood,
6.12.17.2 |   Yet knowing not, what meant that sodaine thro,
6.12.17.3 |   Askt her, how mote her words be vnderstood,
6.12.17.4 |   And what the matter was, that mou'd her so.
6.12.17.5 |   My liefe (sayd she) ye know, that long ygo,
6.12.17.6 |   Whilest ye in durance dwelt, ye to me gaue
6.12.17.7 |   A little mayde, the which ye chylded tho;
6.12.17.8 |   The same againe if now ye list to haue,
6.12.17.9 | The same is yonder Lady, whom high God did saue.

6.12.18.1 | Much was the Lady troubled at that speach,
6.12.18.2 |   And gan to question streight how she it knew.
6.12.18.3 |   Most certaine markes, (sayd she) do me it teach,
6.12.18.4 |   For on her brest I with these eyes did vew
6.12.18.5 |   The litle purple rose, which thereon grew,
6.12.18.6 |   Whereof her name ye then to her did giue.
6.12.18.7 |   Besides her countenaunce, and her likely hew,
6.12.18.8 |   Matched with equall yeares, do surely prieue
6.12.18.9 | That yond same is your daughter sure, which yet doth liue.

6.12.19.1 | The matrone stayd no lenger to enquire,
6.12.19.2 |   But forth in hast ran to the straunger Mayd;
6.12.19.3 |   Whom catching greedily for great desire,
6.12.19.4 |   Rent vp her brest, and bosome open layd,
6.12.19.5 |   In which that rose she plainely saw displayd.
6.12.19.6 |   Then her embracing twixt her armes twaine,
6.12.19.7 |   She long so held, and softly weeping sayd;
6.12.19.8 |   And liuest thou my daughter now againe?
6.12.19.9 | And art thou yet aliue, whom dead I long did faine?

6.12.20.1 | Tho further asking her of sundry things,
6.12.20.2 |   And times comparing with their accidents,
6.12.20.3 |   She found at last by very certaine signes,
6.12.20.4 |   And speaking markes of passed monuments,
6.12.20.5 |   That this young Mayd, whom chance to her presents
6.12.20.6 |   Is her owne daughter, her owne infant deare.
6.12.20.7 |   Tho wondring long at those so straunge euents,
6.12.20.8 |   A thousand times she her embraced nere,
6.12.20.9 | With many a ioyfull kisse, and many a melting teare.

6.12.21.1 | Who euer is the mother of one chylde,
6.12.21.2 |   Which hauing thought long dead, she fyndes aliue,
6.12.21.3 |   Let her by proofe of that, which she hath fylde
6.12.21.4 |   In her owne breast, this mothers ioy descriue:
6.12.21.5 |   For other none such passion can contriue
6.12.21.6 |   In perfect forme, as this good Lady felt,
6.12.21.7 |   When she so faire a daughter saw suruiue,
6.12.21.8 |   As \Pastorella\ was, that nigh she swelt
6.12.21.9 | For passing ioy, which did all into pitty melt.

6.12.22.1 | Thence running forth vnto her loued Lord,
6.12.22.2 |   She vnto him recounted, all that fell:
6.12.22.3 |   Who ioyning ioy with her in one accord,
6.12.22.4 |   Acknowledg'd for his owne faire \Pastorell\.
6.12.22.5 |   There leaue we them in ioy, and let vs tell
6.12.22.6 |   Of \Calidore\, who seeking all this while
6.12.22.7 |   That monstrous Beast by finall force to quell,
6.12.22.8 |   Through euery place, with restlesse paine and toile
6.12.22.9 | Him follow'd, by the tract of his outragious spoile.

6.12.23.1 | Through all estates he found that he had past,
6.12.23.2 |   In which he many massacres had left,
6.12.23.3 |   And to the Clergy now was come at last;
6.12.23.4 |   In which such spoile, such hauocke, and such theft
6.12.23.5 |   He wrought, that thence all goodnesse he bereft,
6.12.23.6 |   That endlesse were to tell. The Elfin Knight,
6.12.23.7 |   Who now no place besides vnsought had left,
6.12.23.8 |   At length into a Monastere did light,
6.12.23.9 | Where he him found despoyling all with maine and might.

6.12.24.1 | Into their cloysters now he broken had,
6.12.24.2 |   Through which the Monckes he chaced here and there,
6.12.24.3 |   And them pursu'd into their dortours sad,
6.12.24.4 |   And searched all their cels and secrets neare;
6.12.24.5 |   In which what filth and ordure did appeare,
6.12.24.6 |   Were yrkesome to report; yet that foule Beast
6.12.24.7 |   Nought sparing them, the more did tosse and teare,
6.12.24.8 |   And ransacke all their dennes from most to least,
6.12.24.9 | Regarding nought religion, nor their holy heast.

6.12.25.1 | From thence into the sacred Church he broke,
6.12.25.2 |   And robd the Chancell, and the deskes downe threw,
6.12.25.3 |   And Altars fouled, and blasphemy spoke,
6.12.25.4 |   And th'=Images for all their goodly hew,
6.12.25.5 |   Did cast to ground, whilest none was them to rew;
6.12.25.6 |   So all confounded and disordered there.
6.12.25.7 |   But seeing \Calidore\, away he flew,
6.12.25.8 |   Knowing his fatall hand by former feare;
6.12.25.9 | But he him fast pursuing, soone approched neare.

6.12.26.1 | Him in a narrow place he ouertooke,
6.12.26.2 |   And fierce assailing forst him turne againe:
6.12.26.3 |   Sternely he turnd againe, when he him strooke
6.12.26.4 |   With his sharpe steele, and ran at him amaine
6.12.26.5 |   With open mouth, that seemed to containe
6.12.26.6 |   A full good pecke within the vtmost brim,
6.12.26.7 |   All set with yron teeth in raunges twaine,
6.12.26.8 |   That terrifide his foes, and armed him,
6.12.26.9 | Appearing like the mouth of \Orcus\ griesly grim.

6.12.27.1 | And therein were a thousand tongs empight,
6.12.27.2 |   Of sundry kindes, and sundry quality,
6.12.27.3 |   Some were of dogs, that barked day and night,
6.12.27.4 |   And some of cats, that wrawling still did cry,
6.12.27.5 |   And some of Beares, that groynd continually,
6.12.27.6 |   And some of Tygres, that did seeme to gren,
6.12.27.7 |   And snar at all, that euer passed by:
6.12.27.8 |   But most of them were tongues of mortall men,
6.12.27.9 | Which spake reprochfully, not caring where nor when.

6.12.28.1 | And them amongst were mingled here and there,
6.12.28.2 |   The tongues of Serpents with three forked stings,
6.12.28.3 |   That spat out poyson and gore bloudy gere
6.12.28.4 |   At all, that came within his rauenings,
6.12.28.5 |   And spake licentious words, and hatefull things
6.12.28.6 |   Of good and bad alike, of low and hie;
6.12.28.7 |   Ne Kesars spared he a whit, nor Kings,
6.12.28.8 |   But either blotted them with infamie,
6.12.28.9 | Or bit them with his banefull teeth of iniury.

6.12.29.1 | But \Calidore\ thereof no whit afrayd,
6.12.29.2 |   Rencountred him with so impetuous might,
6.12.29.3 |   That th'=outrage of his violence he stayd,
6.12.29.4 |   And bet abacke, threatning in vaine to bite,
6.12.29.5 |   And spitting forth the poyson of his spight,
6.12.29.6 |   That fomed all about his bloody iawes.
6.12.29.7 |   Tho rearing vp his former feete on hight,
6.12.29.8 |   He rampt vpon him with his rauenous pawes,
6.12.29.9 | As if he would haue rent him with his cruell clawes.

6.12.30.1 | But he right well aware, his rage to ward,
6.12.30.2 |   Did cast his shield atweene, and therewithall
6.12.30.3 |   Putting his puissaunce forth, pursu'd so hard,
6.12.30.4 |   That backeward he enforced him to fall,
6.12.30.5 |   And being downe, ere he new helpe could call,
6.12.30.6 |   His shield he on him threw, and fast downe held,
6.12.30.7 |   Like as a bullocke, that in bloudy stall
6.12.30.8 |   Of butchers balefull hand to ground is feld,
6.12.30.9 | Is forcibly kept downe, till he be throughly queld.

6.12.31.1 | Full cruelly the Beast did rage and rore,
6.12.31.2 |   To be downe held, and maystred so with might,
6.12.31.3 |   That he gan fret and fome out bloudy gore,
6.12.31.4 |   Striuing in vaine to rere him selfe vpright.
6.12.31.5 |   For still the more he stroue, the more the Knight
6.12.31.6 |   Did him suppresse, and forcibly subdew;
6.12.31.7 |   That made him almost mad for fell despight.
6.12.31.8 |   He grind, hee bit, he scratcht, he venim threw,
6.12.31.9 | And fared like a feend, right horrible in hew.

6.12.32.1 | Or like the hell-borne \Hydra\, which they faine
6.12.32.2 |   That great \Alcides\ whilome ouerthrew,
6.12.32.3 |   After that he had labourd long in vaine,
6.12.32.4 |   To crop his thousand heads, the which still new
6.12.32.5 |   Forth budded, and in greater number grew.
6.12.32.6 |   Such was the fury of this hellish Beast,
6.12.32.7 |   Whilest \Calidore\ him vnder him downe threw;
6.12.32.8 |   Who nathemore his heauy load releast,
6.12.32.9 | But aye the more he rag'd, the more his powre increast.

6.12.33.1 | Tho when the Beast saw, he mote nought auaile,
6.12.33.2 |   By force, he gan his hundred tongues apply,
6.12.33.3 |   And sharpely at him to reuile and raile,
6.12.33.4 |   With bitter termes of shamefull infamy;
6.12.33.5 |   Oft interlacing many a forged lie,
6.12.33.6 |   Whose like he neuer once did speake, nor heare,
6.12.33.7 |   Nor euer thought thing so vnworthily:
6.12.33.8 |   Yet did he nought for all that him forbeare,
6.12.33.9 | But strained him so streightly, that he chokt him neare.

6.12.34.1 | At last when as he found his force to shrincke,
6.12.34.2 |   And rage to quaile, he tooke a muzzell strong
6.12.34.3 |   Of surest yron, made with many a lincke;
6.12.34.4 |   Therewith he mured vp his mouth along,
6.12.34.5 |   And therein shut vp his blasphemous tong,
6.12.34.6 |   For neuer more defaming gentle Knight,
6.12.34.7 |   Or vnto louely Lady doing wrong:
6.12.34.8 |   And thereunto a great long chaine he tight,
6.12.34.9 | With which he drew him forth, euen in his own despight.

6.12.35.1 | Like as whylome that strong \Tirynthian\ swaine,
6.12.35.2 |   Brought forth with him the dreadfull dog of hell,
6.12.35.3 |   Against his will fast bound in yron chaine,
6.12.35.4 |   And roring horribly, did him compell
6.12.35.5 |   To see the hatefull sunne, that he might tell
6.12.35.6 |   To griesly \Pluto\, what on earth was donne,
6.12.35.7 |   And to the other damned ghosts, which dwell
6.12.35.8 |   For aye in darkenesse, which day light doth shonne.
6.12.35.9 | So led this Knight his captyue with like conquest wonne.

6.12.36.1 | Yet greatly did the Beast repine at those
6.12.36.2 |   Straunge bands, whose like till then he neuer bore,
6.12.36.3 |   Ne euer any durst till then impose,
6.12.36.4 |   And chauffed inly, seeing now no more
6.12.36.5 |   Him liberty was left aloud to rore:
6.12.36.6 |   Yet durst he not draw backe; nor once withstand
6.12.36.7 |   The proued powre of noble \Calidore\,
6.12.36.8 |   But trembled vnderneath his mighty hand,
6.12.36.9 | And like a fearefull dog him followed through the land.

6.12.37.1 | Him through all Faery land he follow'd so,
6.12.37.2 |   As if he learned had obedience long,
6.12.37.3 |   That all the people where so he did go,
6.12.37.4 |   Out of their townes did round about him throng,
6.12.37.5 |   To see him leade that Beast in bondage strong,
6.12.37.6 |   And seeing it, much wondred at the sight;
6.12.37.7 |   And all such persons, as he earst did wrong,
6.12.37.8 |   Reioyced much to see his captiue plight,
6.12.37.9 | And much admyr'd the Beast, but more admyr'd the Knight.

6.12.38.1 | Thus was this Monster by the maystring might
6.12.38.2 |   Of doughty \Calidore\, supprest and tamed,
6.12.38.3 |   That neuer more he mote endammadge wight
6.12.38.4 |   With his vile tongue, which many had defamed,
6.12.38.5 |   And many causelesse caused to be blamed:
6.12.38.6 |   So did he eeke long after this remaine,
6.12.38.7 |   Vntill that, whether wicked fate so framed,
6.12.38.8 |   Or fault of men, he broke his yron chaine,
6.12.38.9 | And got into the world at liberty againe.

6.12.39.1 | Thenceforth more mischiefe and more scath he wrought
6.12.39.2 |   To mortall men, then he had done before;
6.12.39.3 |   Ne euer could by any more be brought
6.12.39.4 |   Into like bands, ne maystred any more:
6.12.39.5 |   Albe that long time after \Calidore\,
6.12.39.6 |   The good Sir \Pelleas\ him tooke in hand,
6.12.39.7 |   And after him Sir \Lamoracke\ of yore,
6.12.39.8 |   And all his brethren borne in Britaine land;
6.12.39.9 | Yet none of them could euer bring him into band.

6.12.40.1 | So now he raungeth through the world againe,
6.12.40.2 |   And rageth sore in each degree and state;
6.12.40.3 |   Ne any is, that may him now restraine,
6.12.40.4 |   He growen is so great and strong of late,
6.12.40.5 |   Barking and biting all that him doe bate,
6.12.40.6 |   Albe they worthy blame, or cleare of crime:
6.12.40.7 |   Ne spareth he most learned wits to rate,
6.12.40.8 |   Ne spareth he the gentle Poets rime,
6.12.40.9 | But rends without regard of person or of time.

6.12.41.1 | Ne may this homely verse, of many meanest,
6.12.41.2 |   Hope to escape his venemous despite,
6.12.41.3 |   More then my former writs, all were they clearest
6.12.41.4 |   From blamefull blot, and free from all that wite,
6.12.41.5 |   With which some wicked tongues did it backebite,
6.12.41.6 |   And bring into a mighty Peres displeasure,
6.12.41.7 |   That neuer so deserued to endite.
6.12.41.8 |   Therfore do you my rimes keep better measure,
6.12.41.9 | And seeke to please, that now is counted wisemens threasure.