SPENSER’S FAERIE QUEENE (continued 4)

The spousals of faire Florimell, where turney many knights: There Braggadochio is vncas’d in all the Ladies sights.

After long stormes and tempests ouerblowne, i The sunne at length his ioyous face doth cleare: So when as fortune all her spight hath showne, Some blisfull houres at last must needes appeare; Else should afflicted wights oftimes despeire. So comes it now to Florimell by tourne, After long sorrowes suffered whyleare, In which captiu’d she many moneths did mourne, To tast of ioy, and to wont pleasures to retourne. Who being freed from Proteus cruell band ii By Marinell, was vnto him affide, And by him brought againe to Faerie land; Where he her spous’d, and made his ioyous bride. The time and place was blazed farre and wide; And solemne feasts and giusts ordain’d therefore. To which there did resort from euery side Of Lords and Ladies infinite great store; Ne any Knight was absent, that braue courage bore. To tell the glorie of the feast that day, iii The goodly seruice, the deuicefull sights, The bridegromes state, the brides most rich aray, The pride of Ladies, and the worth of knights, The royall banquets, and the rare delights Were worke fit for an Herauld, not for me: But for so much as to my lot here lights, That with this present treatise doth agree, True vertue to aduance, shall here recounted bee. When all men had with full satietie iv Of meates and drinkes their appetites suffiz’d, To deedes of armes and proofe of cheualrie They gan themselues addresse, full rich aguiz’d, As each one had his furnitures deuiz’d. And first of all issu’d Sir Marinell, And with him sixe knights more, which enterpriz’d To chalenge all in right of Florimell, And to maintaine, that she all others did excell. The first of them was hight Sir Orimont, v A noble Knight, and tride in hard assayes: The second had to name Sir Bellisont, But second vnto none in prowesse prayse; The third was Brunell, famous in his dayes; The fourth Ecastor, of exceeding might; The fift Armeddan, skild in louely layes; The sixt was Lansack, a redoubted Knight: All sixe well seene in armes, and prou’d in many a fight. And them against came all that list to giust, vi From euery coast and countrie vnder sunne: None was debard, but all had leaue that lust. The trompets sound; then all together ronne. Full many deedes of armes that day were donne, And many knights vnhorst, and many wounded, As fortune fell; yet litle lost or wonne: But all that day the greatest prayse redounded To Marinell, whose name the Heralds loud resounded. The second day, so soone as morrow light vii Appear’d in heauen, into the field they came, And there all day continew’d cruell fight, With diuers fortune fit for such a game, In which all stroue with perill to winne fame. Yet whether side was victor, note be ghest: But at the last the trompets did proclame That Marinell that day deserued best. So they disparted were, and all men went to rest. The third day came, that should due tryall lend viii Of all the rest, and then this warlike crew Together met, of all to make an end. There Marinell great deeds of armes did shew; And through the thickest like a Lyon flew, Rashing off helmes, and ryuing plates a sonder, That euery one his daunger did eschew. So terribly his dreadfull strokes did thonder, That all men stood amaz’d, and at his might did wonder. But what on earth can alwayes happie stand? ix The greater prowesse greater perils find. So farre he past amongst his enemies band, That they haue him enclosed so behind, As by no meanes he can himselfe outwind. And now perforce they haue him prisoner taken; And now they doe with captiue bands him bind; And now they lead him thence, of all forsaken, Vnlesse some succour had in time him ouertaken. It fortun’d whylest they were thus ill beset, x Sir Artegall into the Tilt-yard came, With Braggadochio, whom he lately met Vpon the way, with that his snowy Dame. Where when he vnderstood by common fame, What euill hap to Marinell betid, He much was mou’d at so vnworthie shame, And streight that boaster prayd, with whom he rid, To change his shield with him, to be the better hid. So forth he went, and soone them ouer hent, xi Where they were leading Marinell away, Whom he assayld with dreadlesse hardiment, And forst the burden of their prize to stay. They were an hundred knights of that array; Of which th’one halfe vpon himselfe did set, The other[270] stayd behind to gard the pray. But he ere long the former fiftie bet; And from the other[271] fiftie soone the prisoner fet. So backe he brought Sir Marinell againe; xii Whom hauing quickly arm’d againe anew, They both together ioyned might and maine, To set afresh on all the other crew. Whom with sore hauocke soone they ouerthrew, And chaced quite out of the field, that none Against them durst his head to perill shew. So were they left Lords of the field alone: So Marinell by him was rescu’d from his fone. Which when he had perform’d, then backe againe xiii To Braggadochio did his shield restore: Who all this while behind him did remaine, Keeping there close with him in pretious store That his false Ladie, as ye heard afore. Then did the trompets sound, and Iudges rose, And all these knights, which that day armour bore, Came to the open hall, to listen whose The honour of the prize should be adiudg’d by those. And thether also came in open sight xiv Fayre Florimell, into the common hall, To greet his guerdon vnto euery knight, And best to him, to whom the best should fall. Then for that stranger knight they loud did call, To whom that day they should the girlond yield. Who came not forth, but for Sir Artegall Came Braggadochio, and did shew his shield, Which bore the Sunne brode blazed in a golden field. The sight whereof did all with gladnesse fill: xv So vnto him they did addeeme the prise Of all that Tryumph. Then the trompets shrill Don Braggadochios name resounded thrise: So courage lent a cloke to cowardise. And then to him came fayrest Florimell, And goodly gan to greet his braue emprise, And thousand thankes him yeeld, that had so well Approu’d that day, that she all others did excell. To whom the boaster, that all knights did blot, xvi With proud disdaine did scornefull answere make; That what he did that day, he did it not For her, but for his owne deare Ladies sake, Whom on his perill he did vndertake, Both her and eke all others to excell: And further did vncomely speaches crake. Much did his words the gentle Ladie quell, And turn’d aside for shame to heare, what he did tell. Then forth he brought his snowy Florimell, xvii Whom Trompart had in keeping there beside, Couered from peoples gazement with a vele. Whom when discouered they had throughly eide, With great amazement they were stupefide; And said, that surely Florimell it was, Or if it were not Florimell so tride, That Florimell her selfe she then did pas. So feeble skill of perfect things the vulgar has. Which when as Marinell beheld likewise, xviii He was therewith exceedingly dismayd; Ne wist he what to thinke, or to deuise, But like as one, whom feends had made affrayd, He long astonisht stood, ne ought he sayd, Ne ought he did, but with fast fixed eies He gazed still vpon that snowy mayd; Whom euer as he did the more auize, The more to be true Florimell he did surmize. As when two sunnes appeare in the azure[272] skye, xix Mounted in Phœbus charet fierie bright, Both darting forth faire beames to each mans eye, And both adorn’d with lampes of flaming light, All that behold so strange prodigious sight, Not knowing natures worke, nor what to weene, Are rapt with wonder, and with rare affright. So stood Sir Marinell, when he had seene The semblant of this false by his faire beauties Queene. All which when Artegall, who all this while xx Stood in the preasse close couered, well aduewed, And saw that boasters pride and gracelesse guile, He could no longer beare, but forth issewed, And vnto all himselfe there open shewed, And to the boaster said; Thou losell base, That hast with borrowed plumes thy selfe endewed, And others worth with leasings doest deface, When they are all restor’d, thou shalt rest in disgrace. That shield, which thou doest beare, was it indeed, xxi Which this dayes honour sau’d to Marinell; But not that arme, nor thou the man I reed, Which didst that seruice vnto Florimell. For proofe shew forth thy sword, and let it tell, What strokes, what dreadfull stoure it stird this day: Or shew the wounds, which vnto thee befell; Or shew the sweat, with which thou diddest sway So sharpe a battell, that so many did dismay. But this the sword, which wrought those cruell stounds, xxii And this the arme, the which that shield did beare, And these the signes, (so shewed forth his wounds) By which that glorie gotten doth appeare. As for this Ladie, which he sheweth here, Is not (I wager) Florimell at all; But some fayre Franion, fit for such a fere, That by misfortune in his hand did fall. For proofe whereof, he bad them Florimell forth call. So forth the noble Ladie was ybrought, xxiii Adorn’d with honor and all comely grace: Whereto her bashfull shamefastnesse ywrought A great increase in her faire blushing face; As roses did with lillies interlace. For of those words, the which that boaster threw, She inly yet conceiued great disgrace. Whom when as all the people such did vew, They shouted loud, and signes of gladnesse all did shew. Then did he set her by that snowy one, xxiv Like the true saint beside the image set, Of both their beauties to make paragone, And triall, whether should the honor get. Streight way so soone as both together met, Th’enchaunted Damzell vanisht into nought: Her snowy substance melted as with heat, Ne of that goodly hew remayned ought, But th’emptie girdle, which about her wast was wrought. As when the daughter of Thaumantes faire, xxv Hath in a watry cloud displayed wide Her goodly bow, which paints the liquid ayre; That all men wonder at her colours pride; All suddenly, ere one can looke aside, The glorious picture vanisheth away, Ne any token doth thereof abide: So did this Ladies goodly forme decay, And into nothing goe, ere one could it bewray. Which when as all that present were, beheld, xxvi They stricken were with great astonishment, And their faint harts with senselesse horrour queld, To see the thing, that seem’d so excellent, So stolen from their fancies wonderment; That what of it became, none vnderstood. And Braggadochio selfe with dreriment So daunted was in his despeyring mood, That like a lifelesse corse immoueable he stood. But Artegall that golden belt vptooke, xxvii The which of all her spoyle was onely left; Which was not hers, as many it mistooke, But Florimells owne girdle, from her reft, While she was flying, like a weary weft, From that foule monster, which did her compell To perils great; which he vnbuckling eft, Presented to the fayrest Florimell; Who round about her tender wast it fitted well. Full many Ladies often had assayd, xxviii About their middles that faire belt to knit; And many a one suppos’d to be a mayd: Yet it to none of all their loynes would fit, Till Florimell about her fastned it. Such power it had, that to no womans wast By any skill or labour it would sit, Vnlesse that she were continent and chast, But it would lose or breake, that many had disgrast. Whilest thus they busied were bout Florimell, xxix And boastfull Braggadochio to defame, Sir Guyon as by fortune then befell, Forth from the thickest preasse of people came, His owne good steed, which he had stolne, to clame; And th’one hand seizing on his golden bit, With th’other drew his sword: for with the same He ment the thiefe there deadly to haue smit: And had he not bene held, he nought had fayld of it. Thereof great hurly burly moued was xxx Throughout the hall, for that same warlike horse. For Braggadochio would not let him pas; And Guyon would him algates haue perforse, Or it approue vpon his carrion corse. Which troublous stirre when Artegall perceiued, He nigh them drew to stay th’auengers forse, And gan inquire, how was that steed bereaued, Whether by might extort, or else by slight deceaued. Who all that piteous storie, which befell xxxi About that wofull couple, which were slaine, And their young bloodie babe to him gan tell; With whom whiles he did in the wood remaine, His horse purloyned was by subtill traine: For which he chalenged the thiefe to fight. But he for nought could him thereto constraine. For as the death he hated such despight, And rather had to lose, then trie in armes his right. Which Artegall well hearing, though no more xxxii By law of armes there neede ones right to trie, As was the wont of warlike knights of yore, Then that his foe should him the field denie, Yet further right by tokens to descrie, He askt, what priuie tokens he did beare. If that (said Guyon) may you satisfie, Within his mouth a blacke spot doth appeare, Shapt like a horses shoe, who list to seeke it there. Whereof to make due tryall, one did take xxxiii The horse in hand, within his mouth to looke: But with his heeles so sorely he him strake, That all his ribs he quite in peeces broke, That neuer word from that day forth he spoke. Another that would seeme to haue more wit, Him by the bright embrodered hedstall tooke: But by the shoulder him so sore he bit, That he him maymed quite, and all his shoulder split. Ne he his mouth would open vnto wight, xxxiv Vntill that Guyon selfe vnto him spake, And called Brigadore (so was he hight) Whose voice so soone as he did vndertake, Eftsoones he stood as still as any stake, And suffred all his secret marke to see: And when as he him nam’d, for ioy he brake His bands, and follow’d him with gladfull glee, And friskt, and flong aloft, and louted low on knee. Thereby Sir Artegall did plaine areed, xxxv That vnto him the horse belong’d, and sayd; Lo there Sir Guyon, take to you the steed, As he with golden saddle is arayd; And let that losell, plainely now displayd, Hence fare on foot, till he an horse haue gayned. But the proud boaster gan his doome vpbrayd, And him reuil’d, and rated, and disdayned, That iudgement so vniust against him had ordayned. Much was the knight incenst with his lewd word, xxxvi To haue reuenged that his villeny; And thrise did lay his hand vpon his sword, To haue him slaine, or dearely doen aby. But Guyon did his choler pacify, Saying, Sir knight, it would dishonour bee To you, that are our iudge of equity, To wreake your wrath on such a carle as hee:[273] It’s punishment enough, that all his shame doe see. So did he mitigate Sir Artegall, xxxvii But Talus by the backe the boaster hent, And drawing him out of the open hall, Vpon him did inflict this punishment. First he his beard did shaue, and fowly shent: Then from him reft his shield, and it renuerst, And blotted out his armes with falshood blent, And himselfe baffuld, and his armes vnherst, And broke his sword in twaine, and all his armour sperst. The whiles his guilefull groome was fled away: xxxviii But vaine it was to thinke from him to flie. Who ouertaking him did disaray, And all his face deform’d with infamie, And out of court him scourged openly. So ought all faytours, that true knighthood shame, And armes dishonour with base villanie, From all braue knights be banisht with defame: For oft their lewdnes blotteth good deserts with blame. Now when these counterfeits were thus vncased xxxix Out of the foreside of their forgerie, And in the sight of all men cleane disgraced, All gan to iest and gibe full merilie At the remembrance of their knauerie. Ladies can laugh at Ladies, Knights at Knights, To thinke with how great vaunt of brauerie He them abused, through his subtill slights, And what a glorious shew he made in all their sights. There leaue we them in pleasure and repast, xl Spending their ioyous dayes and gladfull nights, And taking vsurie of time forepast, With all deare delices and rare delights, Fit for such Ladies and such louely knights: And turne we[274] here to this faire furrowes end Our wearie yokes, to gather fresher sprights, That when as time to Artegall shall tend, We on his first aduenture may him forward send.

Artegall dealeth right betwixt two brethren that doe striue, Saues Terpine from the gallow tree, and doth from death repriue.

Who so vpon him selfe will take the skill i True Iustice vnto people to diuide, Had neede haue mightie hands, for to fulfill That, which he doth with righteous doome decide, And for to maister wrong and puissant pride. For vaine it is to deeme of things aright, And makes wrong doers iustice to deride, Vnlesse it be perform’d with dreadlesse might. For powre is the right hand of Iustice truely hight. Therefore whylome to knights of great emprise ii The charge of Iustice giuen was in trust, That they might execute her iudgements wise, And with their might beat downe licentious lust, Which proudly did impugne her sentence iust. Whereof no brauer president[275] this day Remaines on earth, preseru’d from yron rust Of rude obliuion, and long times decay, Then this of Artegall, which here we haue to say. Who hauing lately left that louely payre, iii Enlincked fast in wedlockes loyall bond, Bold Marinell with Florimell the fayre, With whom great feast and goodly glee he fond, Departed from the Castle of the strond, To follow his aduentures first intent, Which long agoe he taken had in hond: Ne wight with him for his assistance went, But that great yron groome, his gard and gouernment. With whom as he did passe by the sea shore, iv He chaunst to come, whereas two comely Squires, Both brethren, whom one wombe together bore, But stirred vp with different desires, Together stroue, and kindled wrathfull fires: And them beside two seemely damzels stood, By all meanes seeking to asswage their ires, Now with faire words; but words did little good, Now with sharpe threats; but threats the more increast their mood. And there before them stood a Coffer strong, v Fast bound on euery side with iron bands, But seeming to haue suffred mickle wrong, Either by being wreckt vppon the sands, Or being carried farre from forraine lands. Seem’d that for it these Squires at ods did fall, And bent against them selues their cruell hands. But euermore, those Damzels did forestall Their furious encounter, and their fiercenesse pall. But firmely fixt they were, with dint of sword, vi And battailes doubtfull proofe their rights to try, Ne other end their fury would afford, But what to them Fortune would iustify. So stood they both in readinesse thereby,[276] To ioyne the combate with cruell intent; When Artegall arriuing happily, Did stay a while their greedy bickerment, Till he had questioned the cause of their dissent. To whom the elder did this aunswere frame; vii Then weete ye Sir, that we two brethren be, To whom our sire, Milesio by name, Did equally bequeath his lands in fee, Two Ilands, which ye there before you see Not farre in sea; of which the one appeares But like a little Mount of small degree; Yet was as great and wide ere many yeares, As that same other Isle, that greater bredth now beares. But tract of time, that all things doth decay, viii And this deuouring Sea, that naught doth spare, The most part of my land hath washt away, And throwne it vp vnto my brothers share: So his encreased, but mine did empaire. Before which time I lou’d, as was my lot, That further mayd, hight Philtra the faire, With whom a goodly doure I should haue got, And should haue ioyned bene to her in wedlocks knot. Then did my younger brother Amidas ix Loue that same other Damzell, Lucy bright, To whom but little dowre allotted was; Her vertue was the dowre, that did delight. What better dowre can to a dame be hight? But now when Philtra saw my lands decay, And former liuelod fayle, she left me quight, And to my brother did ellope streight way: Who taking her from me, his owne loue left astray. She seeing then her selfe forsaken so, x Through dolorous despaire, which she conceyued, Into the Sea her selfe did headlong throw, Thinking to haue her griefe by death bereaued. But see how much her purpose was deceaued. Whilest thus amidst the billowes beating of her Twixt life and death, long to and fro she weaued, She chaunst vnwares to light vppon this coffer, Which to her in that daunger hope of life did offer. The wretched mayd that earst desir’d to die, xi When as the paine of death she tasted had, And but halfe seene his vgly visnomie, Gan to repent, that she had beene so mad, For any death to chaunge life though most bad: And catching hold of this Sea-beaten chest, The lucky Pylot of her passage sad, After long tossing in the seas distrest, Her weary barke at last vppon mine Isle did rest. Where I by chaunce then wandring on the shore, xii Did her espy, and through my good endeuour From dreadfull mouth of death, which threatned sore Her to haue swallow’d vp, did helpe to saue her. She then in recompence of that great fauour, Which I on her bestowed, bestowed on me The portion of that good, which Fortune gaue her, Together with her selfe in dowry free; Both goodly portions, but of both the better she. Yet in this coffer, which she with her brought, xiii Great threasure sithence we did finde contained; Which as our owne we tooke, and so it thought. But this same other Damzell since hath fained, That to her selfe that threasure appertained; And that she did transport the same by sea, To bring it to her husband new ordained, But suffred cruell shipwracke by the way. But whether it be so or no, I can not say. But whether it indeede be so or no, xiv This doe I say, that what so good or ill Or God or Fortune vnto me did throw, Not wronging any other by my will, I hold mine owne, and so will hold it still. And though my land he first did winne away, And then my loue (though now it little skill,) Yet my good lucke he shall not likewise pray; But I will it defend, whilst euer that I may. So hauing sayd, the younger did ensew; xv Full true it is, what so about our land My brother here declared hath to you: But not for it this ods twixt vs doth stand, But for this threasure throwne vppon his strand; Which well I proue, as shall appeare by triall, To be this maides, with whom I fastned hand, Known by good markes, and perfect good espiall, Therefore it ought be rendred her without deniall. When they thus ended had, the Knight began; xvi Certes your strife were easie to accord, Would ye remit it to some righteous man. Vnto your selfe, said they, we giue our word, To bide what iudgement ye shall vs afford. Then for assuraunce to my doome to stand, Vnder my foote let each lay downe his sword, And then you shall my sentence vnderstand. So each of them layd downe his sword out of his hand. Then Artegall thus to the younger sayd; xvii Now tell me Amidas, if that ye may, Your brothers land the which the sea hath layd Vnto your part, and pluckt from his away, By what good right doe you withhold this day? What other right (quoth he) should you esteeme, But that the sea it to my share did lay? Your right is good (sayd he) and so I deeme, That what the sea vnto you sent, your own should seeme. Then turning to the elder thus he sayd; xviii Now Bracidas let this likewise be showne. Your brothers threasure, which from him is strayd, Being the dowry of his wife well knowne, By what right doe you claime to be your owne? What other right (quoth he) should you esteeme, But that the sea hath it vnto me throwne? Your right is good (sayd he) and so I deeme, That what the sea vnto you sent, your own should seeme. For equall right in equall things doth stand, xix For what the mighty Sea hath once possest, And plucked quite from all possessors hand, Whether by rage of waues, that neuer rest, Or else by wracke, that wretches hath distrest, He may dispose by his imperiall might, As thing at randon left, to whom he list. So Amidas, the land was yours first hight, And so the threasure yours is Bracidas by right. When he his sentence thus pronounced had, xx Both Amidas and Philtra were displeased: But Bracidas and Lucy were right glad, And on the threasure by that iudgement seased. So was their discord by this doome appeased, And each one had his right. Then Artegall When as their sharpe contention he had ceased, Departed on his way, as did befall, To follow his old quest, the which him forth did call. So as he trauelled vppon the way, xxi He chaunst to come, where happily he spide A rout of many people farre away; To whom his course he hastily applide, To weete the cause of their assemblaunce wide. To whom when he approched neare in sight, (An vncouth sight) he plainely then descride To be a troupe of women warlike dight, With weapons in their hands, as ready for to fight. And in the midst of them he saw a Knight, xxii With both his hands behinde him pinnoed hard, And round about his necke an halter tight, As ready for the gallow tree prepard: His face was couered, and his head was bar’d, That who he was, vneath was to descry; And with full heauy heart with them he far’d, Grieu’d to the soule, and groning inwardly, That he of womens hands so base a death should dy. But they like tyrants, mercilesse the more, xxiii Reioyced at his miserable case, And him reuiled, and reproched sore With bitter taunts, and termes of vile disgrace. Now when as Artegall arriu’d in place, Did aske, what cause brought that man to decay, They round about him gan to swarme apace, Meaning on him their cruell hands to lay, And to haue wrought vnwares some villanous assay. But he was soone aware of their ill minde, xxiv And drawing backe deceiued their intent; Yet though him selfe did shame on womankinde His mighty hand to shend, he Talus sent To wrecke on them their follies hardyment: Who with few sowces of his yron flale, Dispersed all their troupe incontinent, And sent them home to tell a piteous tale, Of their vaine prowesse, turned to their proper bale. But that same wretched man, ordaynd to die, xxv They left behind them, glad to be so quit: Him Talus tooke out of perplexitie, And horrour of fowle death for Knight vnfit, Who more then losse of life ydreaded it; And him restoring vnto liuing light, So brought vnto his Lord, where he did sit, Beholding all that womanish weake fight; Whom soone as he beheld, he knew, and thus behight. Sir Terpine[277], haplesse man, what make you here? xxvi Or haue you lost your selfe, and your discretion, That euer in this wretched case ye were? Or haue ye yeelded you to proude oppression Of womens powre, that boast of mens subiection? Or else what other deadly dismall day Is falne on you, by heauens hard direction, That ye were runne so fondly far astray, As for to lead your selfe vnto your owne decay? Much was the man confounded in his mind, xxvii Partly with shame, and partly with dismay, That all astonisht he him selfe did find, And little had for his excuse to say, But onely thus; Most haplesse well ye may Me iustly terme, that to this shame am brought, And made the scorne of Knighthod[278] this same day. But who can scape, what his owne fate hath wrought? The worke of heauens will surpasseth humaine thought. Right true: but faulty men vse oftentimes xxviii To attribute their folly vnto fate, And lay on heauen the guilt of their owne crimes. But tell, Sir Terpin, ne let you amate Your misery, how fell ye in this state. Then sith ye needs (quoth he) will know my shame, And all the ill, which chaunst to me of late, I shortly will to you rehearse the same, In hope ye will not turne misfortune to my blame. Being desirous (as all Knights are woont[279]) xxix Through hard aduentures deedes of armes to try, And after fame and honour for to hunt, I heard report that farre abrode did fly, That a proud Amazon did late defy All the braue Knights, that hold of Maidenhead, And vnto them wrought all the villany, That she could forge in her malicious head, Which some hath put to shame, and many done be dead. The cause, they say, of this her cruell hate, xxx Is for the sake of Bellodant the bold, To whom she bore most feruent loue of late, And wooed him by all the waies she could: But when she saw at last, that he ne would For ought or nought be wonne vnto her will, She turn’d her loue to hatred manifold, And for his sake vow’d to doe all the ill Which she could doe to Knights, which now she doth fulfill. For all those Knights, the which by force or guile xxxi She doth subdue, she fowly doth entreate. First she doth them of warlike armes despoile, And cloth[280] in womens weedes: And then with threat Doth them compell to worke, to earne their meat, To spin, to card, to sew, to wash, to wring; Ne doth she giue them other thing to eat, But bread and water, or like feeble thing, Them to disable from reuenge aduenturing. But if through stout disdaine of manly mind, xxxii Any her proud obseruaunce will withstand, Vppon that gibbet, which is there behind, She causeth them be hang’d vp out of hand; In which condition I right now did stand. For being ouercome by her in fight, And put to that base seruice of her band, I rather chose to die in liues despight, Then lead that shamefull life, vnworthy of a Knight. How hight that Amazon (sayd Artegall)?[281] xxxiii And where, and how far hence does she abide? Her name (quoth he) they Radigund doe call, A Princesse of great powre, and greater pride, And Queene of Amazons, in armes well tride, And sundry battels, which she hath atchieued With great successe, that her hath glorifide, And made her famous, more then is belieued; Ne would I it haue ween’d, had I not late it prieued. Now sure (said he) and by the faith that I xxxiv To Maydenhead and noble knighthood owe, I will not rest, till I her might doe trie, And venge the shame, that she to Knights doth show. Therefore Sir Terpin from you lightly throw This squalid weede, the patterne of dispaire, And wend with me, that ye may see and know, How Fortune will your ruin’d name repaire, And knights of Maidenhead, whose praise she would empaire. With that, like one that hopelesse was repryu’d[282] xxxv From deathes dore, at which he lately lay, Those yron fetters, wherewith he was gyu’d, The badges of reproch, he threw away, And nimbly did him dight to guide the way Vnto the dwelling of that Amazone. Which was from thence not past a mile or tway: A goodly citty and a mighty one, The which of her owne name she called Radegone. Where they arriuing, by the watchmen[283] were xxxvi Descried streight, who all the citty warned, How that three warlike persons did appeare, Of which the one him seem’d a Knight all armed, And th’other two well likely to haue harmed. Eftsoones the people all to harnesse ran, And like a sort of Bees in clusters swarmed: Ere long their Queene her selfe, halfe[284] like a man Came forth into the rout, and them t’array began. And now the Knights being arriued neare[285], xxxvii Did beat vppon the gates to enter in, And at the Porter, skorning them so few[286], Threw many threats, if they the towne did win, To teare his flesh in peeces for his sin. Which when as Radigund there comming heard, Her heart for rage did grate, and teeth did grin: She bad that streight the gates should be vnbard, And to them way to make, with weapons well prepard. Soone as the gates were open to them set, xxxviii They pressed forward, entraunce to haue made. But in the middle way they were ymet With a sharpe showre of arrowes, which them staid, And better bad aduise, ere they assaid Vnknowen perill of bold womens pride. Then all that rout vppon them rudely laid, And heaped strokes so fast on euery side, And arrowes haild so thicke, that they could not abide. But Radigund her selfe, when she espide xxxix Sir Terpin, from her direfull doome acquit, So cruell doale[287] amongst her maides diuide[288], T’auenge that shame, they did on him commit, All sodainely enflam’d with furious fit, Like a fell Lionesse at him she flew, And on his head-peece him so fiercely smit, That to the ground him quite she ouerthrew, Dismayd so with the stroke, that he no colours knew. Soone as she saw him on the ground to grouell, xl She lightly to him leapt, and in his necke Her proud foote setting, at his head did leuell, Weening at once her wrath on him to wreake, And his contempt, that did her iudg’ment breake. As when a Beare hath seiz’d her cruell clawes Vppon the carkasse of some beast too weake, Proudly stands ouer, and a while doth pause, To heare the piteous beast pleading her plaintiffe cause. Whom when as Artegall in that distresse xli By chaunce beheld, he left the bloudy slaughter, In which he swam, and ranne to his redresse. There her assayling fiercely fresh, he raught her Such an huge stroke, that it of sence distraught her: And had she not it warded warily, It had depriu’d her mother of a daughter. Nathlesse for all the powre she did apply, It made her stagger oft, and stare with ghastly eye. Like to an Eagle in his kingly pride, xlii Soring through his wide Empire of the aire, To weather his brode sailes, by chaunce hath spide A Goshauke, which hath seized for her share Vppon some fowle, that should her feast prepare; With dreadfull force he flies at her byliue, That with his souce, which none enduren dare, Her from the quarrey he away doth driue, And from her griping pounce the greedy prey doth riue. But soone as she her sence recouer’d had, xliii She fiercely towards him her selfe gan dight, Through vengeful wrath and sdeignfull pride half mad: For neuer had she suffred such despight. But ere she could ioyne hand with him to fight, Her warlike maides about her flockt so fast, That they disparted them, maugre their might, And with their troupes did far a sunder cast: But mongst the rest the fight did vntill euening last. And euery while that mighty yron man, xliv With his strange weapon, neuer wont in warre, Them sorely vext, and courst, and ouerran, And broke their bowes, and did their shooting marre, That none of all the many once did darre Him to assault, nor once approach him nie, But like a sort of sheepe dispersed farre For dread of their deuouring enemie, Through all the fields and vallies did before him flie. But when as daies faire shinie-beame, yclowded xlv With fearefull shadowes of deformed night, Warn’d man and beast in quiet rest be shrowded, Bold Radigund with sound of trumpe on hight, Causd all her people to surcease from fight, And gathering them vnto her citties gate, Made them all enter in before her sight, And all the wounded, and the weake in state, To be conuayed in, ere she would once retrate. When thus the field was voided all away, xlvi And all things quieted, the Elfin Knight Weary of toile and trauell of that day, Causd his pauilion to be richly pight Before the city gate, in open sight; Where he him selfe did rest in safety, Together with sir Terpin all that night: But Talus vsde in times of ieopardy To keepe a nightly watch, for dread of treachery. But Radigund full of heart-gnawing griefe, xlvii For the rebuke, which she sustain’d that day, Could take no rest, ne would receiue reliefe, But tossed in her troublous minde, what way She mote reuenge that blot, which on her lay. There she resolu’d her selfe in single fight To try her Fortune, and his force assay, Rather then see her people spoiled quight, As she had seene that day a disauenterous sight. She called forth to her a trusty mayd, xlviii Whom she thought fittest for that businesse, Her name was Clarin[289], and thus to her sayd; Goe damzell quickly, doe thy selfe addresse, To doe the message, which I shall expresse. Goe thou vnto that stranger Faery Knight, Who yesterday[290] droue vs to such distresse, Tell, that to morrow I with him wil fight, And try in equall field, whether hath greater might. But these conditions doe to him propound, xlix That if I vanquishe him, he shall obay My law, and euer to my lore be bound, And so will I, if me he vanquish may; What euer he shall like to doe or say: Goe streight, and take with thee, to witnesse it, Sixe of thy fellowes of the best array, And beare with you both wine and iuncates fit, And bid him eate, henceforth he oft shall hungry sit. The Damzell streight obayd, and putting all l In readinesse, forth to the Towne-gate went, Where sounding loud a Trumpet from the wall, Vnto those warlike Knights she warning sent. Then Talus forth issuing from the tent, Vnto the wall his way did fearelesse take, To weeten what that trumpets sounding ment: Where that same Damzell lowdly him bespake, And shew’d, that with his Lord she would emparlaunce[291] make. So he them streight conducted to his Lord, li Who, as he could, them goodly well did greete, Till they had told their message word by word: Which he accepting well, as he could weete, Them fairely entertaynd with curt’sies meete, And gaue them gifts and things of deare delight. So backe againe they homeward turnd their feete. But Artegall him selfe to rest did dight, That he mote fresher be against the next daies fight.

Artegall fights with Radigund And is subdewd by guile: He is by her emprisoned, But wrought by Clarins wile.

So soone as day forth dawning from the East, i Nights humid curtaine from the heauens withdrew, And earely calling forth both man and beast, Comaunded them their daily workes renew, These noble warriors, mindefull to pursew The last daies purpose of their vowed fight, Them selues thereto preparde in order dew; The Knight, as best was seeming for a Knight, And th’Amazon, as best it likt her selfe to dight. All in a Camis light of purple silke ii Wouen vppon with siluer, subtly wrought, And quilted vppon sattin white as milke, Trayled with ribbands diuersly distraught Like as the workeman had their courses taught; Which was short tucked for light motion Vp to her ham, but when she list, it raught Downe to her lowest heele, and thereuppon She wore for her defence a mayled habergeon. And on her legs she painted buskins wore, iii Basted with bends of gold on euery side, And mailes betweene, and laced close afore: Vppon her thigh her Cemitare was tide, With an embrodered belt of mickell pride; And on her shoulder hung her shield, bedeckt Vppon the bosse with stones, that shined wide, As the faire Moone in her most full aspect, That to the Moone it mote be like in each respect. So forth she came out of the citty gate, iv With stately port and proud magnificence, Guarded with many damzels, that did waite Vppon her person for her sure defence, Playing on shaumes and trumpets, that from hence Their sound did reach vnto the heauens hight. So forth into the field she marched thence, Where was a rich Pauilion ready pight, Her to receiue, till time they should begin the fight. Then forth came Artegall out of his tent, v All arm’d to point, and first the Lists did enter: Soone after eke came she, with fell intent, And countenaunce fierce, as hauing fully bent her, That battels vtmost triall to aduenter. The Lists were closed fast, to barre the rout From rudely pressing to the middle center; Which in great heapes them circled all about, Wayting, how Fortune would resolue that daungerous dout. The Trumpets sounded, and the field began; vi With bitter strokes it both began, and ended. She at the first encounter on him ran With furious rage, as if she had intended Out of his breast the very heart haue rended: But he that had like tempests often tride, From that first flaw him selfe right well defended. The more she rag’d, the more he did abide; She hewd, she foynd, she lasht, she laid on euery side. Yet still her blowes he bore, and her forbore, vii Weening at last to win aduantage new; Yet still her crueltie increased more, And though powre faild, her courage did accrew, Which fayling he gan fiercely her pursew. Like as a Smith that to his cunning feat The stubborne mettall seeketh to subdew, Soone as he feeles it mollifide with heat, With his great yron sledge doth strongly on it beat. So did Sir Artegall vpon her lay, viii As if she had an yron anduile beene, That flakes of fire, bright as the sunny ray, Out of her steely armes were flashing seene, That all on fire ye would her surely weene. But with her shield so well her selfe she warded, From the dread daunger of his weapon keene, That all that while her life she safely garded: But he that helpe from her against her will discarded. For with his trenchant blade at the next blow ix Halfe of her shield he shared quite away, That halfe her side it selfe did naked show, And thenceforth vnto daunger opened way. Much was she moued with the mightie sway Of that sad stroke, that halfe enrag’d she grew, And like a greedie Beare vnto her pray, With her sharpe Cemitare at him she flew, That glauncing downe his thigh, the purple bloud forth drew. Thereat she gan to triumph with great boast, x And to vpbrayd that chaunce, which him misfell, As if the prize she gotten had almost, With spightfull speaches, fitting with her well; That his great hart gan inwardly to swell With indignation, at her vaunting vaine, And at her strooke with puissance fearefull fell; Yet with her shield she warded it againe, That shattered all to peeces round about the plaine. Hauing her thus disarmed of her shield, xi Vpon her helmet he againe her strooke, That downe she fell vpon the grassie field, In sencelesse swoune, as if her life forsooke, And pangs of death her spirit ouertooke. Whom when he saw before his foote prostrated, He to her lept with deadly dreadfull looke, And her sunshynie helmet soone vnlaced, Thinking at once both head and helmet to haue raced. But when as he discouered had her face, xii He saw his senses straunge astonishment, A miracle of natures goodly grace, In her faire visage voide of ornament, But bath’d in bloud and sweat together ment; Which in the rudenesse of that euill plight, Bewrayd the signes of feature excellent: Like as the Moone in foggie winters night, Doth seeme to be her selfe, though darkned be her light. At sight thereof his cruell minded hart xiii Empierced was with pittifull regard, That his sharpe sword he threw from him apart, Cursing his hand that had that visage mard: No hand so cruell, nor no hart so hard, But ruth of beautie will it mollifie. By this vpstarting from her swoune, she star’d A while about her with confused eye; Like one that from his dreame is waked suddenlye. Soone as the knight she there by her did spy, xiv Standing with emptie hands all weaponlesse, With fresh assault vpon him she did fly, And gan renew her former cruelnesse: And though he still retyr’d, yet nathelesse With huge redoubled strokes she on him layd; And more increast her outrage mercilesse, The more that he with meeke intreatie prayd, Her wrathful hand from greedy vengeance to haue stayd. Like as a Puttocke hauing spyde in sight xv A gentle Faulcon sitting on an hill, Whose other wing, now made vnmeete for flight, Was lately broken by some fortune ill; The foolish Kyte, led with licentious will, Doth beat vpon the gentle bird in vaine, With many idle stoups her troubling still: Euen so did Radigund with bootlesse paine Annoy this noble Knight, and sorely him constraine. Nought could he do, but shun the dred despight xvi Of her fierce wrath, and backward still retyre, And with his single shield, well as he might, Beare off the burden of her raging yre; And euermore he gently did desyre, To stay her stroks, and he himselfe would yield: Yet nould she hearke, ne let him once respyre, Till he to her deliuered had his shield, And to her mercie him submitted in plaine field. So was he ouercome, not ouercome, xvii But to her yeelded of his owne accord; Yet was he iustly damned by the doome Of his owne mouth, that spake so warelesse word, To be her thrall, and seruice her afford. For though that he first victorie obtayned, Yet after by abandoning his sword, He wilfull lost, that he before attayned. No fayrer conquest, then that with goodwill is gayned. Tho with her sword on him she flatling strooke, xviii In signe of true subiection to her powre, And as her vassall him to thraldome tooke. But Terpine borne to’a more vnhappy howre, As he, on whom the lucklesse starres did lowre, She causd to be attacht, and forthwith led Vnto the crooke t’abide the balefull stowre, From which he lately had through reskew fled: Where he full shamefully was hanged by the hed. But when they thought on Talus hands to lay, xix He with his yron flaile amongst them thondred, That they were fayne to let him scape away, Glad from his companie to be so sondred; Whose presence all their troups so much encombred That th’heapes of those, which he did wound and slay, Besides the rest dismayd, might not be nombred: Yet all that while he would not once assay, To reskew his owne Lord, but thought it iust t’obay. Then tooke the Amazon this noble knight, xx Left to her will by his owne wilfull blame, And caused him to be disarmed quight, Of all the ornaments of knightly name, With which whylome he gotten had great fame: In stead whereof she made him to be dight In womans weedes, that is to manhood shame, And put before his lap a napron[292] white, In stead of Curiets and bases fit for fight. So being clad, she brought him from the field, xxi In which he had bene trayned many a day, Into a long large chamber, which was sield With moniments of many knights decay, By her subdewed in victorious fray: Amongst the which she causd his warlike armes Be hang’d on high, that mote his shame bewray; And broke his sword, for feare of further harmes, With which he wont to stirre vp battailous alarmes. There entred in, he round about him saw xxii Many braue knights, whose names right well he knew, There bound t’obay that Amazons proud law, Spinning and carding all in comely rew, That his bigge hart loth’d so vncomely vew. But they were forst through penurie and pyne, To doe those workes, to them appointed dew: For nought was giuen them to sup or dyne, But what their hands could earne by twisting linnen twyne. Amongst them all she placed him most low, xxiii And in his hand a distaffe to him gaue, That he thereon should spin both flax and tow; A sordid office for a mind so braue. So hard it is to be a womans slaue. Yet he it tooke in his owne selfes despight, And thereto did himselfe right well behaue, Her to obay, sith he his faith had plight, Her vassall to become, if she him wonne in fight. Who had him seene, imagine mote thereby, xxiv That whylome hath of Hercules bene told, How for Iolas sake he did apply His mightie hands, the distaffe vile to hold, For his huge club, which had subdew’d of old So many monsters, which the world annoyed; His Lyons skin chaungd to a pall of gold, In which forgetting warres, he onely ioyed In combats of sweet loue, and with his mistresse toyed. Such is the crueltie of womenkynd, xxv When they haue shaken off the shamefast band, With which wise Nature did them strongly bynd, T’obay the heasts of mans well ruling hand, That then all rule and reason they withstand, To purchase a licentious libertie. But vertuous women wisely vnderstand, That they were borne to base humilitie, Vnlesse the heauens them lift to lawfull soueraintie. Thus there long while continu’d Artegall, xxvi Seruing proud Radigund with true subiection; How euer it his noble heart did gall, T’obay a womans tyrannous direction, That might haue had of life or death election: But hauing chosen, now he might not chaunge. During which time, the warlike Amazon, Whose wandring fancie after lust did raunge, Gan cast a secret liking to this captiue straunge. Which long concealing in her couert brest, xxvii She chaw’d the cud of louers carefull plight; Yet could it not so thoroughly digest, Being fast fixed in her wounded spright, But it tormented her both day and night: Yet would she not thereto yeeld free accord, To serue the lowly vassall of her might, And of her seruant make her souerayne Lord: So great her pride, that she such basenesse much abhord. So much the greater still her anguish grew, xxviii Through stubborne handling of her loue-sicke hart; And still the more she stroue it to subdew, The more she still augmented her owne smart, And wyder made the wound of th’hidden dart. At last when long she struggled had in vaine, She gan to stoupe, and her proud mind conuert To meeke obeysance of loues mightie raine, And him entreat for grace, that had procur’d her paine. Vnto her selfe in secret she did call xxix Her nearest handmayd, whom she most did trust, And to her said; Clarinda whom of all I trust a liue, sith I thee fostred first; Now is the time, that I vntimely must Thereof make tryall, in my greatest need: It is so hapned, that the heauens vniust, Spighting my happie freedome, haue agreed, To thrall my looser life, or my last bale to breed. With that she turn’d her head, as halfe abashed, xxx To hide the blush which in her visage rose, And through her eyes like sudden lightning flashed, Decking her cheeke with a vermilion rose: But soone she did her countenance compose, And to her turning, thus began againe; This griefes deepe wound I would to thee disclose, Thereto compelled through hart-murdring paine, But dread of shame my doubtfull lips doth still restraine. Ah my deare dread (said then the faithfull Mayd) xxxi Can dread of ought your dreadlesse hart withhold, That many hath with dread of death dismayd, And dare euen deathes most dreadfull face behold? Say on my souerayne Ladie, and be bold; Doth not your handmayds life at your foot lie? Therewith much comforted, she gan vnfold The cause of her conceiued maladie, As one that would confesse, yet faine would it denie. Clarin (sayd she) thou seest yond Fayry Knight, xxxii Whom not my valour, but his owne braue mind Subiected hath to my vnequall might; What right is it, that he should thraldome find, For lending life to me a wretch vnkind; That for such good him recompence with ill? Therefore I cast, how I may him vnbind, And by his freedome get his free goodwill; Yet so, as bound to me he may continue still. Bound vnto me, but not with such hard bands xxxiii Of strong compulsion, and streight violence, As now in miserable state he stands; But with sweet loue and sure beneuolence, Voide of malitious mind, or foule offence. To which if thou canst win him any way, Without discouerie of my thoughts pretence, Both goodly meede of him it purchase may, And eke with gratefull seruice me right well apay. Which that thou mayst the better bring to pas, xxxiv Loe here this ring, which shall thy warrant bee, And token true to old Eumenias, From time to time, when thou it best shalt see, That in and out thou mayst haue passage free. Goe now, Clarinda, well thy wits aduise, And all thy forces gather vnto thee; Armies of louely lookes, and speeches wise, With which thou canst euen Ioue himselfe to loue entise. The trustie Mayd, conceiuing her intent, xxxv Did with sure promise of her good indeuour, Giue her great comfort, and some harts content. So from her parting, she thenceforth did labour By all the meanes she might, to curry fauour With th’Elfin Knight, her Ladies best beloued; With daily shew of courteous kind behauiour, Euen at the markewhite of his hart she roued, And with wide glauncing words, one day she thus him proued. Vnhappie Knight, vpon whose hopelesse state xxxvi Fortune enuying good, hath felly frowned, And cruell heauens haue heapt an heauy fate; I rew that thus thy better dayes are drowned In sad despaire, and all thy senses swowned In stupid sorow, sith thy iuster merit Might else haue with felicitie bene crowned: Looke vp at last, and wake thy dulled spirit, To thinke how this long death thou mightest disinherit. Much did he maruell at her vncouth speach, xxxvii Whose hidden drift he could not well perceiue; And gan to doubt, least she him sought t’appeach Of treason, or some guilefull traine did weaue, Through which she might his wretched life bereaue. Both which to barre, he with this answere met her; Faire Damzell, that with ruth (as I perceaue) Of my mishaps, art mou’d to wish me better, For such your kind regard, I can but rest your detter. Yet weet ye well, that to a courage great xxxviii It is no lesse beseeming well, to beare The storme of fortunes frowne, or heauens threat, Then in the sunshine of her countenance cleare Timely to ioy, and carrie comely cheare. For though this cloud haue now me ouercast, Yet doe I not of better times despeyre; And, though (vnlike)[293] they should for euer last, Yet in my truthes assurance I rest fixed fast. But what so stonie mind (she then replyde) xxxix But if in his owne powre occasion lay, Would to his hope a windowe open wyde, And to his fortunes helpe make readie way? Vnworthy sure (quoth he) of better day, That will not take the offer of good hope, And eke pursew, if he attaine it may. Which speaches she applying to the scope Of her intent, this further purpose to him shope. Then why doest not, thou ill aduized man, xl Make meanes to win thy libertie forlorne, And try if thou by faire entreatie, can Moue Radigund? who though she still haue worne Her dayes in warre, yet (weet thou) was not borne[294] Of Beares and Tygres, nor so saluage mynded, As that, albe all loue of men she scorne, She yet forgets, that she of men was kynded: And sooth oft seene, that proudest harts base loue hath blynded. Certes Clarinda, not of cancred will, xli (Sayd he[295]) nor obstinate disdainefull mind, I haue forbore this duetie to fulfill: For well I may this weene, by that I fynd, That she a Queene, and come of Princely kynd, Both worthie is for to be sewd vnto, Chiefely by him, whose life her law doth bynd, And eke of powre her owne doome to vndo, And als’ of princely grace to be inclyn’d thereto. But want of meanes hath bene mine onely let, xlii From seeking fauour, where it doth abound; Which if I might by your good office get, I to your selfe should rest for euer bound, And readie to deserue, what grace I found. She feeling him thus bite vpon the bayt, Yet doubting least his hold was but vnsound, And not well fastened, would not strike him strayt, But drew him on with hope, fit leasure to awayt. But foolish Mayd, whyles heedlesse of the hooke, xliii She thus oft times was beating off and on, Through slipperie footing, fell into the brooke, And there was caught to her confusion. For seeking thus to salue the Amazon, She wounded was with her deceipts owne dart, And gan thenceforth to cast affection, Conceiued close in her beguiled hart, To Artegall, through pittie of his causelesse smart. Yet durst she not disclose her fancies wound, xliv Ne to himselfe, for doubt of being sdayned, Ne yet to any other wight on ground, For feare her mistresse shold[296] haue knowledge gayned, But to her selfe it secretly retayned, Within the closet of her couert brest: The more thereby her tender hart was payned. Yet to awayt fit time she weened best, And fairely did dissemble her sad thoughts vnrest. One day her Ladie, calling her apart, xlv Gan to demaund of her some tydings good, Touching her loues successe, her lingring smart. Therewith she gan at first to change her mood, As one adaw’d, and halfe confused stood; But quickly she it ouerpast, so soone As she her face had wypt, to fresh her blood: Tho gan she tell her all, that she had donne, And all the wayes she sought, his loue for to haue wonne. But sayd, that he was obstinate and sterne, xlvi Scorning her offers and conditions vaine; Ne would be taught with any termes, to lerne So fond a lesson, as to loue againe. Die rather would he in penurious paine, And his abridged dayes in dolour wast, Then his foes loue or liking entertaine: His resolution was both first and last, His bodie was her thrall, his hart was freely plast. Which when the cruell Amazon perceiued, xlvii She gan to storme, and rage, and rend her gall, For very fell despight, which she conceiued, To be so scorned of a base borne thrall, Whose life did lie in her least eye-lids fall; Of which she vow’d with many a cursed threat, That she therefore would him ere long forstall. Nathlesse when calmed was her furious heat, She chang’d that threatfull mood, and mildly gan entreat. What now is left Clarinda? what remaines, xlviii That we may compasse this our enterprize? Great shame to lose so long employed paines, And greater shame t’abide so great misprize, With which he dares our offers thus despize. Yet that his guilt the greater may appeare, And more my gratious mercie by this wize, I will a while with his first folly beare, Till thou haue tride againe, and tempted him more neare. Say, and do all, that may thereto preuaile; xlix Leaue nought vnpromist, that may him perswade, Life, freedome, grace, and gifts of great auaile, With which the Gods themselues are mylder made: Thereto adde art, euen womens witty trade, The art of mightie words, that men can charme; With which in case thou canst him not inuade, Let him feele hardnesse of thy heauie arme: Who will not stoupe with good, shall be made stoupe with harme. Some of his diet doe from him withdraw; l For I him find to be too proudly fed. Giue him more labour, and with streighter law, That he with worke may be forwearied. Let him lodge hard, and lie in strawen bed, That may pull downe the courage of his pride; And lay vpon him, for his greater dread, Cold yron chaines, with which let him be tide; And let, what euer he desires, be him denide. When thou hast all this doen, then bring me newes li Of his demeane: thenceforth not like a louer, But like a rebell stout I will him vse. For I resolue this siege not to giue ouer, Till I the conquest of my will recouer. So she departed, full of griefe and sdaine, Which inly did to great impatience moue her. But the false mayden shortly turn’d againe Vnto the prison, where her hart did thrall remaine. There all her subtill nets she did vnfold, lii And all the engins of her wit display; In which she meant him warelesse to enfold, And of his innocence to make her pray. So cunningly she wrought her crafts assay, That both her Ladie, and her selfe withall, And eke the knight attonce she did betray: But most the knight, whom she with guilefull call Did cast for to allure, into her trap to fall. As a bad Nurse, which fayning to receiue liii In her owne mouth the food, ment for her chyld, Withholdes it to her selfe, and doeth deceiue The infant, so for want of nourture spoyld: Euen so Clarinda her owne Dame beguyld, And turn’d the trust, which was in her affyde, To feeding of her priuate fire, which boyld Her inward brest, and in her entrayles fryde, The more that she it sought to couer and to hyde. For comming to this knight, she purpose fayned, liv How earnest suit she earst for him had made Vnto her Queene, his freedome to haue gayned; But by no meanes could her thereto perswade: But that in stead thereof, she sternely bade His miserie to be augmented more, And many yron bands on him to lade. All which nathlesse she for his loue forbore: So praying him t’accept her seruice euermore. And more then that, she promist that she would, lv In case she might finde fauour in his eye, Deuize how to enlarge him out of hould. The Fayrie glad to gaine his libertie, Can yeeld great thankes for such her curtesie, And with faire words, fit for the time and place, To feede the humour of her maladie,[297] Promist, if she would free him from that case, He wold by all good means he might, deserue such grace. So daily he faire semblant did her shew, lvi Yet neuer meant he in his noble mind, To his owne absent loue to be vntrew: Ne euer did deceiptfull Clarin find In her false hart, his bondage to vnbind; But rather how she mote him faster tye. Therefore vnto her mistresse most vnkind She daily told, her loue he did defye, And him she told, her Dame his freedome did denye. Yet thus much friendship she to him did show, lvii That his scarse diet somewhat was amended, And his worke lessened, that his loue mote grow: Yet to her Dame him still she discommended, That she with him mote be the more offended. Thus he long while in thraldome there remayned, Of both beloued well, but litle frended; Vntill his owne true loue his freedome gayned, Which in an other Canto will be best contayned.

Talus brings newes to Britomart, of Artegals mishap, She goes to seeke him, Dolon meetes, who seekes her to entrap.

Some men, I wote, will deeme in Artegall i Great weaknesse, and report of him much ill, For yeelding so himselfe a wretched thrall, To th’insolent commaund of womens will; That all his former praise doth fowly spill. But he the man, that say or doe so dare, Be well aduiz’d, that he stand stedfast still: For neuer yet was wight so well aware, But he at first or last was trapt in womens snare. Yet in the streightnesse of that captiue state, ii This gentle knight himselfe so well behaued, That notwithstanding all the subtill bait, With which those Amazons his loue still craued, To his owne loue his loialtie he saued: Whose character in th’Adamantine mould Of his true hart so firmely was engraued, That no new loues impression euer could Bereaue it thence: such blot his honour blemish should. Yet his owne loue, the noble Britomart, iii Scarse so conceiued in her iealous thought, What time sad tydings of his balefull smart In womans bondage, Talus to her brought; Brought in vntimely houre, ere it was sought. For after that the vtmost date, assynde For his returne, she waited had for nought, She gan to cast in her misdoubtfull mynde A thousand feares, that loue-sicke fancies faine to fynde. Sometime she feared, least some hard mishap iv Had him misfalne in his aduenturous[298] quest; Sometime least his false foe did him entrap In traytrous traine, or had vnwares opprest: But most she did her troubled mynd molest, And secretly afflict with iealous feare, Least some new loue had him from[299] her possest; Yet loth she was, since she no ill did heare, To thinke of him so ill: yet could she not forbeare. One while she blam’d her selfe; another whyle v She him condemn’d, as trustlesse and vntrew: And then, her griefe with errour to beguyle, She fayn’d to count the time againe anew, As if before she had not counted trew. For houres but dayes; for weekes, that passed were, She told but moneths, to make them seeme more few: Yet when she reckned them, still drawing neare, Each hour did seeme a moneth, and euery moneth a yeare. But when as yet she saw him not returne, vi She thought to send some one to seeke him out; But none she found so fit to serue that turne, As her owne selfe, to ease her selfe of dout. Now she deuiz’d amongst the warlike rout Of errant Knights, to seeke her errant Knight; And then againe resolu’d to hunt him out Amongst loose Ladies, lapped in delight: And then both Knights enuide, and Ladies eke did spight. One day, when as she long had sought for ease vii In euery place, and euery place thought best, Yet found no place, that could her liking please, She to a window came, that opened West, Towards which coast her loue his way addrest. There looking forth, shee in her heart did find Many vaine fancies, working her vnrest; And sent her winged thoughts, more swift then wind, To beare vnto her loue the message of her mind. There as she looked long, at last she spide viii One comming towards her with hasty speede: Well weend she then, ere him she plaine descride, That it was one sent from her loue indeede. Who when he nigh approcht, shee mote arede That it was Talus, Artegall his groome; Whereat her heart was fild with hope and drede; Ne would she stay, till he in place could come, But ran to meete him forth, to know his tidings somme. Euen in the dore him meeting, she begun; ix And where is he thy Lord, and how far hence? Declare at once; and hath he lost or wun? The yron man, albe he wanted sence And sorrowes feeling, yet with conscience Of his ill newes, did inly chill and quake, And stood still mute, as one in great suspence, As if that by his silence he would make Her rather reade his meaning, then him selfe it spake. Till she againe thus sayd; Talus be bold, x And tell what euer it be, good or bad, That from thy tongue thy hearts intent doth hold. To whom he thus at length. The tidings sad, That I would hide, will needs, I see, be rad. My Lord, your loue, by hard mishap doth lie In wretched bondage, wofully bestad. Ay me (quoth she) what wicked destinie? And is he vanquisht by his tyrant enemy? Not by that Tyrant, his intended foe; xi But by a Tyrannesse (he then replide,) That him captiued hath in haplesse woe. Cease thou bad newes-man, badly doest thou hide Thy maisters shame, in harlots bondage tide. The rest my selfe too readily can spell. With that in rage she turn’d from him aside, Forcing in vaine the rest to her to tell, And to her chamber went like solitary cell. There she began to make her monefull plaint xii Against her Knight, for being so vntrew; And him to touch with falshoods fowle attaint, That all his other honour ouerthrew. Oft did she blame her selfe, and often rew, For yeelding to a straungers loue so light, Whose life and manners straunge she neuer knew; And euermore she did him sharpely twight For breach of faith to her, which he had firmely plight. And then she in her wrathfull will did cast, xiii How to reuenge that blot of honour blent; To fight with him, and goodly die her last: And then againe she did her selfe torment, Inflicting on her selfe his punishment. A while she walkt, and chauft; a while she threw Her selfe vppon her bed, and did lament: Yet did she not lament with loude alew, As women wont, but with deepe sighes, and singults[300] few. Like as a wayward childe, whose sounder sleepe xiv Is broken with some fearefull dreames affright, With froward will doth set him selfe to weepe; Ne can be stild for all his nurses might, But kicks, and squals, and shriekes for fell despight: Now scratching her, and her loose locks misusing; Now seeking darkenesse, and now seeking light; Then crauing sucke, and then the sucke refusing. Such was this Ladies fit, in her loues fond accusing. But when she had with such vnquiet fits xv Her selfe there close afflicted long in vaine, Yet found no easement in her troubled wits, She vnto Talus forth return’d againe, By change of place seeking to ease her paine; And gan enquire of him, with mylder mood, The certaine cause of Artegals detaine; And what he did, and in what state he stood, And whether he did woo, or whether he were woo’d. Ah wellaway (sayd then the yron man,) xvi That he is not the while in state to woo; But lies in wretched thraldome, weake and wan, Not by strong hand compelled thereunto, But his owne doome, that none can now vndoo. Sayd I not then (quoth shee) erwhile aright, That this is things[301] compacte betwixt you two, Me to deceiue of faith vnto me plight, Since that he was not forst, nor ouercome in fight? With that he gan at large to her dilate xvii The whole discourse of his captiuance sad, In sort as ye haue heard the same of late. All which when she with hard enduraunce had Heard[302] to the end, she was right sore bestad, With sodaine stounds of wrath and griefe attone: Ne would abide, till she had aunswere made, But streight her selfe did dight, and armor don; And mounting to her steede, bad Talus guide her on. So forth she rode vppon her ready way, xviii To seeke her Knight, as Talus her did guide: Sadly she rode, and neuer word did say, Nor good nor bad, ne euer lookt aside, But still right downe, and in her thought did hide The felnesse of her heart, right fully bent To fierce auengement of that womans pride, Which had her Lord in her base prison pent, And so great honour with so fowle reproch had blent. So as she thus melancholicke did ride, xix Chawing the cud of griefe and inward paine, She chaunst to meete toward the euen-tide[303] A Knight, that softly paced on the plaine, As if him selfe to solace he were faine. Well shot in yeares he seem’d, and rather bent To peace, then needlesse trouble to constraine. As well by view of that his vestiment, As by his modest semblant, that no euill ment. He comming neare, gan gently her salute, xx With curteous words, in the most comely wize; Who though desirous rather to rest mute, Then termes to entertaine of common guize, Yet rather then she kindnesse would despize, She would her selfe displease, so him requite. Then gan the other further to deuize Of things abrode, as next to hand did light, And many things demaund, to which she answer’d light. For little lust had she to talke of ought, xxi Or ought to heare, that mote delightfull bee; Her minde was whole possessed of one thought, That gaue none other place. Which when as hee By outward signes, (as well he might) did see, He list no lenger to vse lothfull speach, But her besought to take it well in gree, Sith shady dampe had dimd the heauens reach, To lodge with him that night, vnles good cause empeach. The Championesse, now seeing night at dore, xxii Was glad to yeeld vnto his good request: And with him went without gaine-saying more. Not farre away, but little wide by West, His dwelling was, to which he him addrest; Where soone arriuing they receiued were In seemely wise, as them beseemed best: For he their host them goodly well did cheare, And talk’t of pleasant things, the night away to weare. Thus passing th’euening well, till time of rest, xxiii Then Britomart vnto a bowre was brought; Where groomes awayted her to haue vndrest. But she ne would vndressed be for ought, Ne doffe her armes, though he her much besought. For she had vow’d, she sayd, not to forgo Those warlike weedes, till she reuenge had wrought Of a late wrong vppon a mortall foe; Which she would sure performe, betide her wele or wo. Which when their[304] Host perceiu’d, right discontent xxiv In minde he grew, for feare least by that art He should his purpose misse, which close he ment: Yet taking leaue of her, he did depart. There all that night remained Britomart, Restlesse, recomfortlesse, with heart deepe grieued, Not suffering the least twinckling sleepe to start Into her eye, which th’heart mote haue relieued, But if the least appear’d, her eyes she streight reprieued. Ye guilty eyes (sayd she) the which with guyle xxv My heart at first betrayd, will ye betray My life now to, for which a little whyle Ye will not watch? false watches, wellaway, I wote when ye did watch both night and day Vnto your losse: and now needes will ye sleepe? Now ye haue made my heart to wake alway, Now will ye sleepe? ah wake, and rather weepe, To thinke of your nights[305] want, that should yee waking keepe. Thus did she watch, and weare the weary night xxvi In waylfull plaints, that none was to appease; Now walking soft, now sitting still vpright, As sundry chaunge her seemed best to ease. Ne lesse did Talus suffer sleepe to seaze His eye-lids sad, but watcht continually, Lying without her dore in great disease; Like to a Spaniell wayting carefully Least any should betray his Lady treacherously. What time the natiue Belman of the night, xxvii The bird, that warned Peter of his fall, First rings his siluer Bell t’each sleepy wight, That should their mindes vp to deuotion call, She heard a wondrous noise below the hall. All sodainely the bed, where she should lie, By a false trap was let adowne to fall Into a lower roome, and by and by The loft was raysd againe, that no man could it spie. With sight whereof she was dismayd right sore, xxviii Perceiuing well the treason, which was ment: Yet stirred not at all for doubt of more, But kept her place with courage confident, Wayting what would ensue of that euent. It was not long, before she heard the sound Of armed men, comming with close intent Towards her chamber; at which dreadfull stound She quickly caught her sword, and shield about her bound. With that there came vnto her chamber dore xxix Two Knights, all armed[306] ready for to fight, And after them full many other more, A raskall rout, with weapons rudely dight. Whom soone as Talus spide by glims of night, He started vp, there where on ground he lay, And in his hand his thresher ready keight. They seeing that, let driue at him streight way, And round about him preace in riotous aray. But soone as he began to lay about xxx With his rude yron flaile, they gan to flie, Both armed Knights, and eke vnarmed rout: Yet Talus after them apace did plie, Where euer in the darke he could them spie; That here and there like scattred sheepe they lay. Then backe returning, where his Dame did lie, He to her told the story of that fray, And all that treason there intended did bewray. Wherewith though wondrous wroth, and inly burning, xxxi To be auenged for so fowle a deede, Yet being forst to abide the daies returning, She there remain’d, but with right wary heede, Least any more such practise should proceede. Now mote ye know (that which to Britomart Vnknowen was) whence all this did proceede, And for what cause so great mischieuous smart Was ment to her, that neuer euill ment in hart. The goodman of this house was Dolon hight, xxxii A man of subtill wit and wicked minde, That whilome in his youth had bene a Knight, And armes had borne, but little good could finde, And much lesse honour by that warlike kinde Of life: for he was nothing valorous, But with slie shiftes and wiles did vnderminde All noble Knights, which were aduenturous, And many brought to shame by treason treacherous. He had three sonnes, all three like fathers sonnes, xxxiii Like treacherous, like full of fraud and guile, Of all that on this earthly compasse wonnes: The eldest of the which was slaine erewhile By Artegall, through his owne guilty wile; His name was Guizor, whose vntimely fate For to auenge, full many treasons vile His father Dolon had deuiz’d of late With these his wicked sons, and shewd his cankred hate. For sure he weend, that this his present guest xxxiv Was Artegall, by many tokens plaine; But chiefly by that yron page he ghest, Which still was wont with Artegall remaine; And therefore ment him surely to haue slaine. But by Gods grace, and her good heedinesse, She was preserued from their[307] traytrous traine. Thus she all night wore out in watchfulnesse, Ne suffred slothfull sleepe her eyelids to oppresse. The morrow next, so soone as dawning houre xxxv Discouered had the light to liuing eye, She forth yssew’d out of her loathed bowre, With full intent t’auenge that villany, On that vilde[308] man, and all his family. And comming down to seeke them, where they wond, Nor sire, nor sonnes, nor any could she spie: Each rowme she sought, but them all empty fond: They all were fled for feare, but whether, nether[309] kond. She saw it vaine to make there lenger stay, xxxvi But tooke her steede, and thereon mounting light, Gan her addresse vnto her former way. She had not rid the mountenance of a flight, But that she saw there present in her sight, Those two false brethren, on that perillous Bridge, On which Pollente with Artegall did fight. Streight was the passage like a ploughed ridge, That if two met, the one mote needes fall ouer the lidge. There they did thinke them selues on her to wreake: xxxvii Who as she nigh vnto them drew, the one These vile reproches gan vnto her speake; Thou recreant false traytor, that with lone Of armes hast knighthood stolne, yet Knight art none, No more shall now the darkenesse of the night Defend thee from the vengeance of thy fone, But with thy bloud thou shalt appease the spright Of Guizor, by thee slaine, and murdred by thy slight. Strange were the words in Britomartis eare; xxxviii Yet stayd she not for them, but forward fared, Till to the perillous Bridge she came, and there Talus desir’d, that he might haue prepared The way to her, and those two losels scared. But she thereat was wroth, that for despight The glauncing sparkles through her beuer glared, And from her eies did flash out fiery light, Like coles, that through a siluer Censer sparkle bright. She stayd not to aduise which way to take; xxxix But putting spurres vnto her fiery beast, Thorough the midst of them she way did make. The one of them, which most her wrath increast, Vppon her speare she bore before her breast, Till to the Bridges further end she past, Where falling downe, his challenge he releast: The other ouer side the Bridge she cast Into the riuer, where he drunke his deadly last. As when the flashing Leuin haps to light xl Vppon two stubborne oakes, which stand so neare, That way betwixt them none appeares in sight; The Engin fiercely flying forth, doth teare Th’one from the earth, and through the aire doth beare; The other it with force doth ouerthrow, Vppon one side, and from his rootes doth reare. So did the Championesse those two there strow, And to their sire their carcasses left to bestow.

Britomart comes[310] to Isis Church, Where shee strange visions sees: She fights with Radigund, her slaies, And Artegall thence frees.

Nought is on earth more sacred or diuine, i That Gods and men doe equally adore, Then this same vertue, that doth right define: For th’heuens themselues, whence mortal men implore Right in their wrongs, are rul’d by righteous lore Of highest Ioue, who doth true iustice deale To his inferiour Gods, and euermore Therewith containes his heauenly Common-weale: The skill whereof to Princes hearts he doth reueale. Well therefore did the antique world inuent, ii That Iustice was a God of soueraine grace, And altars vnto him, and temples lent, And heauenly honours in the highest place; Calling him great Osyris, of the race Of th’old Ægyptian Kings, that whylome were; With fayned colours shading a true case: For that Osyris, whilest he liued here, The iustest man aliue, and truest did appeare. His wife was Isis, whom they likewise made iii A Goddesse of great powre and souerainty, And in her person cunningly did shade That part of Iustice, which is Equity, Whereof I haue to treat here presently. Vnto whose temple when as Britomart Arriued, shee with great humility Did enter in, ne would that night depart; But Talus mote not be admitted to her part. There she receiued was in goodly wize iv Of many Priests, which duely did attend Vppon the rites and daily sacrifize, All clad in linnen robes with siluer hemd; And on their heads with long locks comely kemd, They wore rich Mitres shaped like the Moone, To shew that Isis doth the Moone portend; Like as Osyris signifies the Sunne. For that they both like race in equall iustice runne. The Championesse them greeting, as she could, v Was thence by them into the Temple led; Whose goodly building when she did behould, Borne vppon stately pillours, all dispred With shining gold, and arched ouer hed, She wondred at the workemans passing skill, Whose like before she neuer saw nor red; And thereuppon long while stood gazing still, But thought, that she thereon could neuer gaze her fill. Thence forth vnto the Idoll they her brought, vi The which was framed all of siluer fine, So well as could with cunning hand be wrought, And clothed all in garments made of line, Hemd all about with fringe of siluer twine. Vppon her head she wore a Crowne of gold, To shew that she had powre in things diuine; And at her feete a Crocodile was rold, That with her wreathed[311] taile her middle did enfold. One foote was set vppon the Crocodile, vii And on the ground the other fast did stand, So meaning to suppresse both forged guile, And open force: and in her other hand She stretched forth a long white sclender wand. Such was the Goddesse; whom when Britomart Had long beheld, her selfe vppon the land She did prostrate, and with right humble hart, Vnto her selfe her silent prayers did impart. To which the Idoll as it were inclining, viii Her wand did moue with amiable looke, By outward shew her inward sence desining. Who well perceiuing, how her wand she shooke, It as a token of good fortune tooke. By this the day with dampe was ouercast, And ioyous light the house of Ioue forsooke: Which when she saw, her helmet she vnlaste, And by the altars side her selfe to slumber plaste. For other beds the Priests there vsed none, ix But on their mother Earths deare lap did lie, And bake their sides vppon the cold hard stone, T’enure them selues to sufferaunce thereby And proud rebellious flesh to mortify. For by the vow of their religion They tied were to stedfast chastity, And continence of life, that all forgon, They mote the better tend to their deuotion. Therefore they mote not taste of fleshly food, x Ne feed on ought, the which doth bloud containe, Ne drinke of wine, for wine they say is blood, Euen the bloud of Gyants, which were slaine, By thundring Ioue in the Phlegrean plaine. For which the earth (as they the story tell) Wroth with the Gods, which to perpetuall paine Had damn’d her sonnes, which gainst them did rebell, With inward griefe and malice did against them swell. And of their vitall bloud, the which was shed xi Into her pregnant bosome, forth she brought The fruitfull vine, whose liquor blouddy red Hauing the mindes of men with fury fraught, Mote in them stirre vp old rebellious thought, To make new warre against the Gods againe: Such is the powre of that same fruit, that nought The fell contagion may thereof restraine, Ne within reasons rule, her madding mood containe. There did the warlike Maide her selfe repose, xii Vnder the wings of Isis all that night, And with sweete rest her heauy eyes did close, After that long daies toile and weary plight. Where whilest her earthly parts with soft delight Of sencelesse sleepe did deeply drowned lie, There did appeare vnto her heauenly spright A wondrous vision, which did close implie The course of all her fortune and posteritie. Her seem’d, as[312] she was doing sacrifize xiii To Isis, deckt with Mitre on her hed, And linnen stole after those Priestes guize, All sodainely she saw transfigured Her linnen stole to robe of scarlet red,[313] And Moone-like Mitre to a Crowne of gold, That euen she her selfe much wondered At such a chaunge, and ioyed to behold Her selfe, adorn’d with gems and iewels manifold. And in the midst of her felicity, xiv An hideous tempest seemed from below, To rise through all the Temple sodainely, That from the Altar all about did blow The holy fire, and all the embers strow Vppon the ground, which kindled priuily, Into outragious flames vnwares did grow, That all the Temple put in ieopardy Of flaming, and her selfe in great perplexity. With that the Crocodile, which sleeping lay xv Vnder the Idols feete in fearelesse bowre, Seem’d to awake in horrible dismay, As being troubled with that stormy stowre; And gaping greedy wide, did streight deuoure Both flames and tempest: with which growen great, And swolne with pride of his owne peerelesse powre, He gan to threaten her likewise to eat; But that the Goddesse with her rod him backe did beat. Tho turning all his pride to humblesse meeke, xvi Him selfe before her feete he lowly threw, And gan for grace and loue of her to seeke: Which she accepting, he so neare her drew, That of his game she soone enwombed grew, And forth did bring a Lion of great might; That shortly did all other beasts subdew. With that she waked, full of fearefull fright, And doubtfully dismayd through that so vncouth sight. So thereuppon long while she musing lay, xvii With thousand thoughts feeding her fantasie, Vntill she spide the lampe of lightsome day, Vp-lifted in the porch of heauen hie. Then vp she rose fraught with melancholy, And forth into the lower parts did pas; Whereas the Priestes she found full busily About their holy things for morrow Mas: Whom she saluting faire, faire resaluted was. But by the change of her vnchearefull looke, xviii They might perceiue, she was not well in plight; Or that some pensiuenesse to heart she tooke. Therefore thus one of them, who seem’d in sight To be the greatest, and the grauest wight, To her bespake; Sir Knight it seemes to me, That thorough euill rest of this last night, Or ill apayd, or much dismayd ye be, That by your change of cheare is easie for to see. Certes (sayd she) sith ye so well haue spide xix The troublous passion of my pensiue mind, I will not seeke the same from you to hide, But will my cares vnfolde, in hope to find Your aide, to guide me out of errour blind. Say on (quoth he) the secret of your hart: For by the holy vow, which me doth bind, I am adiur’d, best counsell to impart To all, that shall require my comfort in their smart. Then gan she to declare the whole discourse xx Of all that vision, which to her appeard, As well as to her minde it had recourse. All which when he vnto the end had heard, Like to a weake faint-hearted man he fared, Through great astonishment of that strange sight; And with long locks vp-standing, stifly stared Like one adawed with some dreadfull spright. So fild with heauenly fury, thus he her behight. Magnificke Virgin, that in queint disguise xxi Of British armes doest maske thy royall blood, So to pursue a perillous emprize, How couldst[314] thou weene, through that disguized hood, To hide thy state from being vnderstood? Can from th’immortall Gods ought hidden bee? They doe thy linage, and thy Lordly brood; They doe thy sire, lamenting sore for thee; They doe thy loue, forlorne in womens thraldome see. The end whereof, and all the long euent, xxii They doe to thee in this same dreame discouer. For that same Crocodile doth represent The righteous Knight, that is thy faithfull louer, Like to Osyris in all iust endeuer. For that same Crocodile Osyris is, That vnder Isis feete doth sleepe for euer: To shew that clemence oft in things amis, Restraines those sterne behests, and cruell doomes of his. That Knight shall all the troublous stormes asswage, xxiii And raging flames, that many foes shall reare, To hinder thee from the iust heritage Of thy sires Crowne, and from thy countrey deare. Then shalt thou take him to thy loued fere, And ioyne in equall portion of thy realme. And afterwards a sonne to him shalt beare, That Lion-like shall shew his powre extreame. So blesse thee God, and giue thee ioyance of thy dreame. All which when she vnto the end had heard, xxiv She much was eased in her troublous thought, And on those Priests bestowed rich reward: And royall gifts of gold and siluer wrought, She for a present to their Goddesse brought. Then taking leaue of them, she forward went, To seeke her loue, where he was to be sought; Ne rested till she came without relent Vnto the land of Amazons, as she was bent. Whereof when newes to Radigund was brought, xxv Not with amaze, as women wonted bee, She was confused in her troublous thought, But fild with courage and with ioyous glee, As glad to heare of armes, the which now she Had long surceast, she bad to open bold, That she the face of her new foe might see. But when they of that yron man had told, Which late her folke had slaine, she bad them forth to hold.[315] So there without the gate (as seemed best) xxvi She caused her Pauilion be pight; In which stout Britomart her selfe did rest, Whiles Talus watched at the dore all night. All night likewise, they of the towne in fright, Vppon their wall good watch and ward did keepe. The morrow next, so soone as dawning light Bad doe away the dampe of drouzie sleepe, The warlike Amazon out of her bowre did peepe. And caused streight a Trumpet loud to shrill, xxvii To warne her foe to battell soone be prest: Who long before awoke (for she ful ill Could sleepe all night, that in vnquiet brest Did closely harbour such a iealous guest) Was to the battell whilome ready dight. Eftsoones that warriouresse with haughty crest Did forth issue, all ready for the fight: On th’other side her foe appeared soone in sight. But ere they reared hand, the Amazone xxviii Began the streight conditions to propound, With which she vsed still to tye her fone; To serue her so, as she the rest had bound. Which when the other heard, she sternly frownd For high disdaine of such indignity, And would no lenger treat, but bad them sound. For her no other termes should euer tie[316] Then what prescribed were by lawes of cheualrie. The Trumpets sound, and they together run xxix With greedy rage, and with their faulchins smot; Ne either sought the others strokes to shun, But through great fury both their skill forgot, And practicke vse in armes: ne spared not Their dainty parts, which nature had created So faire and tender, without staine or spot, For other vses, then they them translated; Which they now hackt and hewd, as if such vse they hated, As when a Tygre and a Lionesse xxx Are met at spoyling of some hungry pray, Both challenge it with equall greedinesse: But first the Tygre clawes thereon did lay; And therefore loth to loose her right away, Doth in defence thereof full stoutly stond: To which the Lion strongly doth gainesay, That she to hunt the beast first tooke in hond; And therefore ought it haue, where euer she it fond. Full fiercely layde the Amazon about, xxxi And dealt her blowes vnmercifully sore: Which Britomart withstood with courage stout, And them repaide againe with double more. So long they fought, that all the grassie flore Was fild with bloud, which from their sides did flow, And gushed through their armes, that all in gore They trode, and on the ground their liues did strow, Like fruitles seede, of which vntimely death should grow. At last proud Radigund with fell despight, xxxii Hauing by chaunce espide aduantage neare, Let driue at her with all her dreadfull might, And thus vpbrayding said; This token beare Vnto the man, whom thou doest loue so deare; And tell him for his sake thy life thou gauest. Which spitefull words she sore engrieu’d to heare, Thus answer’d; Lewdly thou my loue deprauest, Who shortly must repent that now so vainely brauest. Nath’lesse that stroke so cruell passage found, xxxiii That glauncing on her shoulder plate, it bit Vnto the bone, and made a griesly wound, That she her shield through raging smart of it Could scarse vphold; yet soone she it requit. For hauing force increast through furious paine, She her so rudely on the helmet smit, That it empierced to the very braine, And her proud person low prostrated on the plaine. Where being layd, the wrothfull[317] Britonesse xxxiv Stayd not, till she came to her selfe againe, But in reuenge both of her loues distresse, And her late vile reproch, though vaunted vaine, And also of her wound, which sore did paine, She with one stroke both head and helmet cleft. Which dreadfull sight, when all her warlike traine There present saw, each one of sence bereft, Fled fast into the towne, and her sole victor left. But yet so fast they could not home retrate, xxxv But that swift Talus did the formost win; And pressing through the preace vnto the gate, Pelmell with them attonce did enter in. There then a piteous slaughter did begin: For all that euer came within his reach, He with his yron flale did thresh so thin, That he no worke at all left for the leach: Like to an hideous storme, which nothing may empeach. And now by this the noble Conqueresse xxxvi Her selfe came in, her glory to partake; Where though reuengefull vow she did professe, Yet when she saw the heapes, which he did make, Of slaughtred carkasses, her heart did quake For very ruth, which did it almost riue, That she his fury willed him to slake: For else he sure had left not one aliue, But all in his reuenge of spirite would depriue. Tho when she had his execution stayd, xxxvii She for that yron prison did enquire, In which her wretched loue was captiue layd: Which breaking open with indignant ire, She entred into all the partes entire. Where when she saw that lothly vncouth sight, Of men disguiz’d in womanishe attire, Her heart gan grudge, for very deepe despight Of so vnmanly maske, in misery misdight. At last when as to her owne Loue she came, xxxviii Whom like disguize no lesse deformed had, At sight thereof abasht with secrete shame, She turnd her head aside, as nothing glad, To haue beheld a spectacle so bad[318]: And then too well beleeu’d, that which tofore Iealous suspect as true vntruely drad, Which vaine conceipt now nourishing no more, She sought with ruth to salue his sad misfortunes sore. Not so great wonder and astonishment, xxxix Did the most chast Penelope possesse, To see her Lord, that was reported drent, And dead long since in dolorous distresse, Come home to her in piteous wretchednesse, After long trauell of full twenty yeares, That she knew not his fauours likelynesse, For many scarres and many hoary heares, But stood long staring on him, mongst vncertaine feares. Ah my deare Lord, what sight is this (quoth she) xl What May-game hath misfortune made of you? Where is that dreadfull manly looke? where be Those mighty palmes, the which ye wont t’embrew In bloud of Kings, and great hoastes to subdew? Could ought on earth so wondrous change haue wrought, As to haue robde you of that manly hew? Could so great courage stouped haue to ought? Then farewell fleshly force; I see thy pride is nought. Thenceforth she streight into a bowre him brought, xli And causd him those vncomely weedes vndight; And in their steede for other rayment sought, Whereof there was great store, and armors bright, Which had bene reft from many a noble Knight; Whom that proud Amazon subdewed had, Whilest Fortune fauourd her successe in fight, In which when as she him anew had clad, She was reuiu’d, and ioyd much in his semblance glad. So there a while they afterwards remained, xlii Him to refresh, and her late wounds to heale: During which space she there as Princess[319] rained, And changing all that forme of common weale, The liberty of women did repeale, Which they had long vsurpt; and them restoring To mens subiection, did true Iustice deale: That all they as a Goddesse her adoring, Her wisedome did admire, and hearkned to her loring. For all those Knights, which long in captiue shade xliii Had shrowded bene, she did from thraldome free; And magistrates of all that city made, And gaue to them great liuing and large fee: And that they should for euer faithfull bee, Made them sweare fealty to Artegall. Who when him selfe now well recur’d did see, He purposd to proceed, what so be fall, Vppon his first aduenture, which him forth did call. Full sad and sorrowfull was Britomart xliv For his departure, her new cause of griefe; Yet wisely moderated her owne smart, Seeing his honor, which she tendred chiefe, Consisted much in that aduentures priefe. The care whereof, and hope of his successe Gaue vnto her great comfort and reliefe, That womanish complaints she did represse, And tempred for the time her present heauinesse. There she continu’d for a certaine space, xlv Till through his want her woe did more increase: Then hoping that the change of aire and place Would change her paine, and sorrow somewhat ease, She parted thence, her anguish to appease. Meane while her noble Lord sir Artegall Went on his way, ne euer howre did cease, Till he redeemed had that Lady thrall: That for another Canto will more fitly fall.