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.

FOOTNOTES:

[274] xl 6 we] were _1596_

[275] ii 6 precedent _1609_

[276] vi 5 readinesse: thereby _1596_

[277] xxvi 1 _Turpine_ _1596_

[278] xxvii 7 Knighthood _1609_

[279] xxix 1 wont _1609_

[280] xxxi 4 clothe _1609_

[281] xxxiii 1 (sayd _Artegall_?) _1596_

[282] xxxv 1 repry’ud _1599_

[283] xxxvi 1 watchman _1609_

[284] 8 selfe halfe, _1596_ self, arm’d _1609_

[285] xxxvii 1 neare] newe _conj. Church_

[286] 3 so few] to feare _conj. Collier_

[287] xxxix 3 doale] doile _1596_

[288] diuide] dauide _1596_

[289] xlviii 3 _Clarind’_ _1609 passim_

[290] 7 yesterday] yeester day _1596_

[291] l 9 emperlance _1609_

_Cant. V._

[Illustration:

_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.

FOOTNOTES:

[292] xx 8 an apron _1609_

[293] xxxviii 8 though vnlike, _1596_

[294] xl 5 borne. _1596_

[295] xli 2 she _1609_

[296] xliv 4 should _1609_

[297] lv 7 maladie; _1596_

_Cant. VI._

[Illustration:

_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.

FOOTNOTES:

[298] iv 2 aduentrous _1609_

[299] 7 from] for _1609_

[300] xiii 9 singulfs _1596_

[301] xvi 7 thing _conj. Church_

[302] xvii 5 Heard] Here _1596_

[303] xix 3 th’euen-tide _1596_

[304] xxiv 1 their] her _1609_

[305] xxv 9 nights] Knight’s _conj. Church_

[306] xxix 2 arm’d _1596_

[307] xxxiv 7 their] that _1609_

[308] xxxv 5 vilde] vile _1609_ _passim_ family _1596_

[309] 9 neither _1609_

_Cant. VII._

[Illustration:

_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.

FOOTNOTES:

[310] Arg. 1 _come_ _1609_

[311] vi 9 his wreathed _conj. Church_

[312] xiii 1 seem’, das _1596_

[313] 5 red _1596_

[314] xxi 4 coulst _1596_

[315] xxv 9 _hold_

[316] xxviii 8 tie. _1596_

[317] xxxiv 1 wrathfull _1609_

[318] xxxviii 5 bad] sad _1609_

[319] xlii 3 Princes _1596_

_Cant. VIII._

[Illustration:

_Prince Arthure and Sir Artegall,

Free Samient from feare:

They slay the Soudan, driue his wife,

Adicia to despaire._

]

Nought vnder heauen so strongly doth allure i

The sence of man, and all his minde possesse,

As beauties louely baite, that doth procure

Great warriours oft their rigour to represse,

And mighty hands forget their manlinesse;

Drawne with the powre of an heart-robbing eye,

And wrapt in fetters of a golden tresse,

That can with melting pleasaunce mollifye

Their hardned hearts, enur’d to bloud and cruelty.

So whylome learnd that mighty Iewish swaine, ii

Each of whose lockes did match a man in might,

To lay his spoiles before his lemans traine:

So also did that great Oetean Knight

For his loues sake his Lions skin vndight:

And so did warlike _Antony_ neglect

The worlds whole rule for _Cleopatras_ sight.

Such wondrous powre hath wemens faire aspect,

To captiue men, and make them all the world reiect.

Yet could it not sterne _Artegall_ retaine, iii

Nor hold from suite of his auowed quest,

Which he had vndertane to _Gloriane_;

But left his loue, albe her strong request,

Faire _Britomart_ in languor and vnrest,

And rode him selfe vppon his first intent:

Ne day nor night did euer idly rest;

Ne wight but onely _Talus_ with him went,

The true guide of his way and vertuous gouernment.

So trauelling, he chaunst far oft to heed iv

A Damzell, flying on a palfrey fast

Before two Knights, that after her did speed

With all their powre, and her full fiercely chast

In hope to haue her ouerhent at last:

Yet fled she fast, and both them farre outwent,

Carried with wings of feare, like fowle aghast,

With locks all loose, and rayment all to rent;

And euer as she rode, her eye was backeward bent.

Soone after these he saw another Knight, v

That after those two former rode apace,

With speare in rest, and prickt with all his might:

So ran they all, as they had bene at bace,

They being chased, that did others chase.

At length he saw the hindmost ouertake

One of those two, and force him turne his face;

How euer loth he were his way to slake,

Yet mote he algates now abide, and answere make.

But th’other still pursu’d the fearefull Mayd; vi

Who still from him as fast away did flie,

Ne once for ought her speedy passage stayd,

Till that at length she did before her spie

Sir _Artegall_, to whom she streight did hie

With gladfull hast, in hope of him to get

Succour against her greedy enimy:

Who seeing her approch gan forward set,

To saue her from her feare, and him from force to let.

But he like hound full greedy of his pray, vii

Being impatient of impediment,

Continu’d still his course, and by the way

Thought with his speare him quight haue ouerwent.

So both together ylike felly bent,

Like fiercely met. But _Artegall_ was stronger,

And better skild in Tilt and Turnament,

And bore him quite out of his saddle, longer

Then two speares length; So mischiefe ouermatcht the wronger.

And in his fall misfortune him[320] mistooke; viii

For on his head vnhappily he pight,

That his owne waight his necke asunder broke,

And left there dead. Meane while the other Knight

Defeated had the other faytour quight,

And all his bowels in his body brast:

Whom leauing there in that dispiteous[321] plight,

He ran still on, thinking to follow fast

His other fellow Pagan, which before him past.

In stead of whom finding there ready prest ix

Sir _Artegall_, without discretion

He at him ran, with ready speare in rest:

Who seeing him come still so fiercely on,

Against him made againe. So both anon

Together met, and strongly either strooke

And broke their speares; yet neither has forgon

His horses backe, yet to and fro long shooke,

And tottred like two towres, which through a tempest quooke.

But when againe they had recouered sence, x

They drew their swords, in mind to make amends

For what their speares had fayld of their pretence.

Which when the Damzell, who those deadly ends

Of both her foes had seene, and now her frends

For her beginning a more fearefull fray,

She to them runnes in hast, and her haire rends,

Crying to them their cruell hands to stay,

Vntill they both doe heare, what she to them will say.

They stayd their hands, when she thus gan to speake; xi

Ah gentle Knights, what meane ye thus vnwise

Vpon your selues anothers wrong to wreake?

I am the wrong’d, whom ye did enterprise

Both to redresse, and both redrest likewise:

Witnesse the Paynims both, whom ye may see

There dead on ground. What doe ye then deuise

Of more reuenge? if more, then I am shee,

Which was the roote of all, end your reuenge on mee.

Whom when they heard so say, they lookt about, xii

To weete if it were true, as she had told;

Where when they saw their foes dead out of doubt,

Eftsoones they gan their wrothfull hands to hold,

And Ventailes reare, each other to behold.

Tho when as _Artegall_ did _Arthure_ vew,

So faire a creature, and so wondrous bold,

He much admired both his heart and hew,

And touched with intire affection, nigh him drew.

Saying, Sir[322] Knight, of pardon I you pray, xiii

That all vnweeting haue you wrong’d thus sore,

Suffring my hand against my heart to stray:

Which if ye please forgiue, I will therefore

Yeeld for amends my selfe yours euermore,

Or what so penaunce shall by you be red.

To whom the Prince; Certes me needeth more

To craue the same, whom errour so misled,

As that I did mistake the liuing for the ded.

But sith ye please, that both our blames shall die, xiv

Amends may for the trespasse soone be made,

Since[323] neither is endamadg’d much thereby.

So can they both them selues full eath perswade

To faire accordaunce, and both faults to shade,

Either embracing other louingly,

And swearing faith to either on his blade,

Neuer thenceforth to nourish enmity,

But either others cause to maintaine mutually.

Then _Artegall_ gan of the Prince enquire, xv

What were those knights, which there on ground were layd,

And had receiu’d their follies worthy hire,

And for what cause they chased so that Mayd.

Certes I wote not well (the Prince then sayd)

But by aduenture found them faring so,

As by the way vnweetingly I strayd,

And lo the Damzell selfe, whence all did grow,

Of whom we may at will the whole occasion know.

Then they that Damzell called to them[324] nie, xvi

And asked her, what were those two her fone,

From whom she earst so fast away did flie;

And what was she her selfe so woe begone,

And for what cause pursu’d of them attone.

To whom she thus; Then wote ye well, that I

Doe serue a Queene, that not far hence doth wone,

A Princesse of great powre and maiestie,

Famous through all the world, and honor’d far and nie.

Her name _Mercilla_ most men vse to call; xvii

That is a mayden Queene of high renowne,

For her great bounty knowen ouer all,

And soueraine grace, with which her royall crowne

She doth support, and strongly beateth downe

The malice of her foes, which her enuy,

And at her happinesse do fret and frowne:

Yet she her selfe the more doth magnify,

And euen to her foes her mercies multiply.

Mongst many which maligne her happy state, xviii

There is a mighty man, which wonnes here by[325]

That with most fell despight and deadly hate,

Seekes to subuert her Crowne and dignity,

And all his powre doth thereunto apply:

And her good Knights, of which so braue a band

Serues her, as any Princesse vnder sky,

He either spoiles, if they against him stand,

Or to his part allures, and bribeth vnder hand.

Ne him sufficeth all the wrong and ill, xix

Which he vnto her people does each day,

But that he seekes by traytrous traines to spill

Her person, and her sacred selfe to slay:

That O ye heauens defend, and turne away

From her, vnto the miscreant him selfe,

That neither hath religion nor fay,

But makes his God of his vngodly pelfe,

And Idols serues; so let his Idols serue the Elfe.

To all which cruell tyranny they say, xx

He is prouokt, and stird vp day and night

By his bad wife, that hight _Adicia_,

Who counsels him through confidence of might,

To breake all bonds of law, and rules of right.

For she her selfe professeth mortall foe

To Iustice, and against her still doth fight,

Working to all, that loue her, deadly woe,

And making all her Knights and people to doe so.

Which my liege Lady seeing, thought it best, xxi

With that his wife in friendly wise to deale,

For stint of strife, and stablishment of rest

Both to her selfe, and to her common weale,

And all forepast displeasures to repeale.

So me in message vnto her she sent,

To treat with her by way of enterdeale,

Of finall peace and faire attonement,

Which might concluded be by mutuall consent.

All times haue wont safe passage to afford xxii

To messengers, that come for causes iust:

But this proude Dame disdayning all accord,

Not onely into bitter termes forth brust,

Reuiling me, and rayling as she lust,

But lastly to make proofe of vtmost shame,

Me like a dog she out of dores did thrust,

Miscalling me by many a bitter name,

That neuer did her ill, ne once deserued blame.

And lastly, that no shame might wanting be, xxiii

When I was gone, soone after me she sent

These two false Knights, whom there ye lying see,

To be by them dishonoured and shent:

But thankt be God, and your good hardiment,

They haue the price of their owne folly payd.

So said this Damzell, that hight _Samient_,

And to those knights, for their so noble ayd,

Her selfe most gratefull shew’d, and heaped thanks repayd.

But they now hauing throughly heard, and seene xxiv

Al those great wrongs, the which that mayd complained[326]

To haue bene done against her Lady Queene,

By that proud dame, which her so much disdained,

Were moued much thereat, and twixt them fained,

With all their force to worke auengement strong

Vppon the Souldan selfe, which it mayntained,

And on his Lady, th’author of that wrong,

And vppon all those Knights, that did to her belong.

But thinking best by counterfet disguise xxv

To their deseigne to make the easier way,

They did this complot twixt them selues deuise,

First, that sir _Artegall_ should him array,

Like one of those two Knights, which dead there lay.

And then that Damzell, the sad _Samient_,

Should as his purchast prize with him conuay

Vnto the Souldans court, her to present

Vnto his scornefull Lady, that for her had sent.

So as they had deuiz’d, sir _Artegall_ xxvi

Him clad in th’armour of a Pagan knight,

And taking with him, as his vanquisht thrall,

That Damzell, led her to the Souldans right.

Where soone as his proud wife of her had sight,

Forth of her window as she looking lay,

She weened streight, it was her Paynim Knight,

Which brought that Damzell, as his purchast pray;

And sent to him a Page, that mote direct his way.

Who bringing them to their appointed place, xxvii

Offred his seruice to disarme the Knight;

But he refusing him to let vnlace,

For doubt to be discouered by his sight,

Kept himselfe still in his straunge armour dight.

Soone after whom the Prince arriued there,

And sending to the Souldan in despight

A bold defyance, did of him requere

That Damzell, whom he held as wrongfull prisonere.

Wherewith the Souldan all with furie fraught, xxviii

Swearing, and banning most blasphemously,

Commaunded straight his armour to be brought,

And mounting straight vpon a charret hye,

With yron wheeles and hookes arm’d dreadfully,

And drawne of cruell steedes, which he had fed

With flesh of men, whom through fell tyranny

He slaughtred had, and ere they were halfe ded,

Their bodies to his beasts for prouender did spred.

So forth he came all in a cote of plate, xxix

Burnisht with bloudie rust, whiles on the greene

The Briton Prince him readie did awayte,

In glistering armes right goodly well beseene,

That shone as bright, as doth the heauen sheene;

And by his stirrup _Talus_ did attend,

Playing his pages part, as he had beene

Before directed by his Lord; to th’end

He should his flale to finall execution bend.

Thus goe they both together to their geare, xxx

With like fierce minds, but meanings different:

For the proud Souldan with presumpteous[327] cheare,

And countenance sublime and insolent,

Sought onely slaughter and auengement:

But the braue Prince for honour and for right,

Gainst tortious powre and lawlesse regiment,

In the behalfe of wronged weake did fight:

More in his causes truth he trusted then in might.

Like to the _Thracian_ Tyrant, who they say xxxi

Vnto his horses gaue his guests for meat,

Till he himselfe was made their greedie pray,

And torne in peeces by _Alcides_ great.

So thought the Souldan in his follies threat,

Either the Prince in peeces to haue torne

With his sharpe wheeles, in his first rages heat,

Or vnder his fierce horses feet haue borne

And trampled downe in dust his thoughts disdained scorne.

But the bold child that perill well espying, xxxii

If he too rashly to his charet drew,

Gaue way vnto his horses speedie flying,

And their resistlesse rigour did eschew.

Yet as he passed by, the Pagan threw

A shiuering dart with so impetuous force,

That had he not it shun’d with heedfull vew,

It had himselfe transfixed, or his horse,

Or made them both one masse withouten more remorse.

Oft drew the Prince vnto his charret nigh, xxxiii

In hope some stroke to fasten on him neare;

But he was mounted in his seat so high,

And his wingfooted coursers him did beare

So fast away, that ere his readie speare

He could aduance, he farre was gone and past.

Yet still he him did follow euery where,

And followed was of him likewise full fast;

So long as in his steedes the flaming breath did last.

Againe the Pagan threw another dart, xxxiv

Of which he had with him abundant store,

On euery side of his embatteld cart,

And of all other weapons lesse or more,

Which warlike vses had deuiz’d of yore.

The wicked shaft guyded through th’ayrie wyde,

By some bad spirit, that it to mischiefe bore,

Stayd not, till through his curat it did glyde,

And made a griesly wound in his enriuen side.

Much was he grieued with that haplesse throe, xxxv

That opened had the welspring of his blood;

But much the more that to his hatefull foe

He mote not come, to wreake his wrathfull mood.

That made him raue, like to a Lyon wood,

Which being wounded of the huntsmans hand

Can not come neare him in the couert wood,

Where he with boughes hath built his shady stand,

And fenst himselfe about with many a flaming brand.

Still when he sought t’approch vnto him ny, xxxvi

His charret wheeles about him whirled round,

And made him backe againe as fast to fly;

And eke his steedes like to an hungry hound,

That hunting after game hath carrion found,

So cruelly did him pursew and chace,

That his good steed, all were he much renound

For noble courage, and for hardie race,

Durst not endure their sight, but fled from place to place.

Thus long they trast, and trauerst to and fro, xxxvii

Seeking by euery way to make some breach,

Yet could the Prince not nigh vnto him goe,

That one sure stroke he might vnto him reach,

Whereby his strengthes assay he might him teach.

At last from his victorious shield he drew

The vaile, which did his powrefull light empeach;

And comming full before his horses vew,

As they vpon him prest, it plaine to them did shew.

Like lightening flash, that hath the gazer burned, xxxviii

So did the sight thereof their sense dismay,

That backe againe vpon themselues they turned,

And with their ryder ranne perforce away:

Ne could the Souldan them from flying stay,

With raynes, or wonted rule, as well he knew.

Nought feared they, what he could do, or say,

But th’onely feare, that was before their vew;

From which like mazed deare, dismayfully they flew.

Fast did they fly, as them their feete could beare, xxxix

High ouer hilles, and lowly ouer dales,

As they were follow’d of their former feare.

In vaine the Pagan bannes, and sweares, and rayles,

And backe with both his hands vnto him hayles

The resty raynes, regarded now no more:

He to them calles and speakes, yet nought auayles;

They heare him not, they haue forgot his lore,

But go, which way they list, their guide they haue forlore.

As when the firie-mouthed steeds, which drew xl

The Sunnes bright wayne to _Phaetons_ decay,

Soone as they did the monstrous Scorpion vew,

With vgly craples crawling in their way,

The dreadfull sight did them so sore affray,

That their well knowen[328] courses they forwent,

And leading th’euer-burning lampe astray,

This lower world nigh all to ashes brent,

And left their scorched path yet in the firmament.

Such was the furie of these head-strong steeds, xli

Soone as the infants sunlike shield they saw,

That all obedience both to words and deeds

They quite forgot, and scornd all former law;

Through woods, and rocks, and mountaines they did draw

The yron charet, and the wheeles did teare,

And tost the Paynim, without feare or awe;

From side to side they tost him here and there,

Crying to them in vaine, that nould his crying heare.

Yet still the Prince pursew’d him close behind, xlii

Oft making offer him to smite, but found

No easie meanes according to his mind.

At last they haue all ouerthrowne to ground

Quite topside turuey, and the pagan hound

Amongst the yron hookes and graples keene,

Torne all to rags, and rent with many a wound,

That no whole peece of him was to be seene,

But scattred all about, and strow’d vpon the greene.

Like as the cursed sonne of _Theseus_, xliii

That following his chace in dewy morne,

To fly his stepdames loues outrageous,

Of his owne steedes was all to peeces torne,

And his faire limbs left in the woods forlorne;

That for his sake _Diana_ did lament,

And all the wooddy Nymphes did wayle and mourne.

So was this Souldan rapt and all to rent,

That of his shape appear’d no litle moniment.

Onely his shield and armour, which there lay, xliv

Though nothing whole, but all to brusd and broken,

He vp did take, and with him brought away,

That mote remaine for an eternall token

To all, mongst whom this storie should be spoken,

How worthily, by heauens high decree,

Iustice that day of wrong her selfe had wroken,

That all men which that spectacle did see,

By like ensample mote for euer warned bee.

So on a tree, before the Tyrants dore, xlv

He caused them be hung in all mens sight,

To be a moniment for euermore.

Which when his Ladie from the castles hight

Beheld, it much appald her troubled spright:

Yet not, as women wont in dolefull fit,

She was dismayd, or faynted through affright,

But gathered vnto her her troubled wit,

And gan eftsoones deuize to be aueng’d for it.

Streight downe she ranne, like an enraged cow, xlvi

That is berobbed of her youngling dere,

With knife in hand, and fatally did vow,

To wreake her on that mayden messengere,

Whom she had causd be kept as prisonere,

By _Artegall_, misween’d for her owne Knight,

That brought her backe. And comming present there,

She at her ran with all her force and might,

All flaming with reuenge and furious despight.

Like raging _Ino_, when with knife in hand xlvii

She threw her husbands murdred infant out,

Or fell _Medea_, when on _Colchicke_ strand

Her brothers bones she scattered all about;

Or as that madding mother, mongst the rout

Of _Bacchus_ Priests her owne deare flesh did teare.

Yet neither _Ino_, nor _Medea_ stout,

Nor all the _Mœnades_ so furious were,

As this bold woman, when she saw that Damzell there.

But _Artegall_ being thereof aware, xlviii

Did stay her cruell hand, ere she her raught,

And as she did her selfe to strike prepare,

Out of her fist the wicked weapon caught:

With that like one enfelon’d or distraught,

She forth did rome, whether[329] her rage her bore,

With franticke passion, and with furie fraught;

And breaking forth out at a posterne dore,

Vnto the wyld wood ranne, her dolours to deplore.

As a mad[330] bytch, when as the franticke fit xlix

Her burning tongue with rage inflamed hath,

Doth runne at randon, and with furious bit

Snatching at euery thing, doth wreake her wrath

On man and beast, that commeth in her path.

There they doe say, that she transformed was

Into a Tygre, and that Tygres scath

In crueltie and outrage she did pas,

To proue her surname true, that she imposed has.

Then _Artegall_ himselfe discouering plaine, l

Did issue forth gainst all that warlike rout

Of knights and armed men, which did maintaine

That Ladies part, and to the Souldan lout:

All which he did assault with courage stout,

All were they nigh an hundred knights of name,

And like wyld Goates them chaced all about,

Flying from place to place with cowheard[331] shame,

So that with finall force them all he ouercame.

Then caused he the gates be opened wyde, li

And there the Prince, as victour of that day,

With tryumph entertayn’d and glorifyde,

Presenting him with all the rich array,

And roiall pompe, which there long hidden lay,

Purchast through lawlesse powre and tortious wrong

Of that proud Souldan, whom he earst did slay.

So both for rest there hauing stayd not long,

Marcht with that mayd, fit matter for another song.

FOOTNOTES:

[320] viii 1 hm _1596_

[321] 7 despiteous _1609_

[322] xiii 1 sir _1596_, _1609_

[323] xiv 3 Since] Sith _1609_

[324] xvi 1 them] then _1596_

[325] xviii 2 hereby _1609_

[326] xxiv 2 complained. _1596_

[327] xxx 3 presumptuous _1609_

[328] xl 6 knowne _1596_

[329] xlviii 6 whither _1609_

[330] xlix 1 mad] bad _1609_

[331] 1 8 coward _1609 passim_

_Cant. IX._

[Illustration:

_Arthur and Artegall catch Guyle

whom Talus doth dismay,

They to Mercillaes pallace come,

and see her rich array._

]

What Tygre, or what other salvage wight i

Is so exceeding furious and fell,

As wrong, when it hath arm’d it selfe with might?

Not fit mongst men, that doe with reason mell,

But mongst wyld beasts and saluage woods to dwell;

Where still the stronger doth the weake deuoure,

And they that most in boldnesse doe excell,

Are dreadded most, and feared for their powre:

Fit for _Adicia_, there to build her wicked bowre.

There let her wonne farre from resort of men, ii

Where righteous _Artegall_ her late exyled;

There let her euer keepe her damned den,

Where none may be with her lewd parts defyled,

Nor none but beasts may be of her despoyled:

And turne we to the noble Prince, where late

We did him leaue, after that he had foyled

The cruell Souldan, and with dreadfull fate

Had vtterly subuerted his vnrighteous state.

Where hauing with Sir _Artegall_ a space iii

Well solast in that Souldans late delight,

They both resoluing now to leaue the place,

Both it and all the wealth therein behight

Vnto that Damzell in her Ladies right,

And so would haue departed on their way.

But she them woo’d by all the meanes she might,

And earnestly besought, to wend that day

With her, to see her Ladie thence not farre away.

By whose entreatie both they ouercommen, iv

Agree to goe with her, and by the way,

(As often falles) of sundry things did commen.

Mongst which that Damzell did to them bewray

A straunge aduenture, which not farre thence lay;

To weet a wicked villaine, bold and stout,

Which wonned in a rocke not farre away,

That robbed all the countrie there about,

And brought the pillage home, whence none could get it out.

Thereto both his owne wylie wit, (she sayd) v

And eke the fastnesse of his dwelling place,

Both vnassaylable, gaue him great ayde:

For he so crafty was to forge and face,

So light of hand, and nymble of his pace,

So smooth of tongue, and subtile in his tale,

That could deceiue one looking in his face;

Therefore by name _Malengin_ they him call,

Well knowen by his feates, and famous ouer all.

Through these his slights he many doth confound, vi

And eke the rocke, in which he wonts to dwell,

Is wondrous strong, and hewen farre vnder ground

A dreadfull depth, how deepe no man can tell;

But some doe say, it goeth downe to hell.

And all within, it full of wyndings is,

And hidden wayes, that scarse an hound by smell

Can follow out those false footsteps of his,

Ne none can backe returne, that once are gone amis.

Which when those knights had heard, their harts gan earne[332], vii

To vnderstand that villeins dwelling place,

And greatly it desir’d of her to learne,

And by which way they towards it should trace.

Were not (sayd she) that it should let your pace

Towards my Ladies presence by you ment,

I would you guyde directly to the place.

Then let not that (said they) stay your intent;

For neither will one foot, till we that carle haue hent.

So forth they past, till they approched ny viii

Vnto the rocke, where was the villains won,

Which when the Damzell neare at hand did spy,

She warn’d the knights thereof: who thereupon

Gan to aduize, what best were to be done.

So both agreed, to send that mayd afore,

Where she might sit nigh to the den alone,

Wayling, and raysing pittifull vprore,

As if she did some great calamitie deplore.

With noyse whereof when as the caytiue carle ix

Should issue forth, in hope to find some spoyle,

They in awayt would closely him ensnarle,

Ere to his den he backward could recoyle,

And so would hope him easily to foyle.

The Damzell straight went, as she was directed,

Vnto the rocke, and there vpon the soyle

Hauing her selfe in wretched wize abiected,

Gan weepe and wayle, as if great griefe had her affected.

The cry whereof entring the hollow caue, x

Eftsoones brought forth the villaine, as they ment,

With hope of her some wishfull boot to haue.

Full dreadfull wight he was, as euer went

Vpon the earth, with hollow eyes deepe pent,

And long curld locks, that downe his shoulders shagged,

And on his backe an vncouth vestiment

Made of straunge[333] stuffe, but all to worne and ragged,

And vnderneath his breech was all to torne and iagged.

And in his hand an huge long staffe he held, xi

Whose top was arm’d with many an yron hooke,

Fit to catch hold of all that he could weld,

Or in the compasse of his clouches tooke;

And euer round about he cast his looke.

Als at his backe a great wyde net he bore,

With which he seldome fished at the brooke,

But vsd to fish for fooles on the dry shore,

Of which he in faire weather wont to take great store.

Him when the damzell saw fast by her side, xii

So vgly creature, she was nigh dismayd,

And now for helpe aloud in earnest cride.

But when the villaine saw her so affrayd,

He gan with guilefull words her to perswade,

To banish feare, and with _Sardonian_ smyle

Laughing on her, his false intent to shade,

Gan forth to lay his bayte her to beguyle,

That from her self vnwares he might her steale the whyle.

Like as the fouler on his guilefull pype xiii

Charmes to the birds full many a pleasant lay,

That they the whiles may take lesse heedie keepe,

How he his nets doth for their ruine lay:

So did the villaine to her prate and play,

And many pleasant trickes before her show,

To turne her eyes from his intent away:

For he in slights and iugling feates did flow,

And of legierdemayne the mysteries did know.

To which whilest she lent her intentiue mind, xiv

He suddenly his net vpon her threw,

That ouersprad her like a puffe of wind;

And snatching her soone vp, ere well she knew,

Ran with her fast away vnto his mew,

Crying for helpe aloud. But when as ny

He came vnto his caue, and there did vew

The armed knights stopping his passage by,

He threw his burden downe, and fast away did fly.

But _Artegall_ him after did pursew, xv

The whiles the Prince there kept the entrance still:

Vp to the rocke he ran, and thereon flew

Like a wyld Gote, leaping from hill to hill,

And dauncing on the craggy cliffes at will;

That deadly daunger seem’d in all mens sight,

To tempt such steps, where footing was so ill:

Ne ought auayled for the armed knight,

To thinke to follow him, that was so swift and light.

Which when he saw, his yron man he sent, xvi

To follow him; for he was swift in chace.

He him pursewd, where euer that he went,

Both ouer rockes, and hilles, and euery place,

Where so he fled, he followd him apace:

So that he shortly forst him to forsake

The hight, and downe descend vnto the base.

There he him courst a fresh, and soone did make

To leaue his proper forme, and other shape to take.

Into a Foxe himselfe he first did tourne; xvii

But he him hunted like a Foxe full fast:

Then to a bush himselfe he did transforme,

But he the bush did beat, till that at last

Into a bird it chaung’d, and from him past,

Flying from tree to tree, from wand to wand:

But he then stones at it so long did cast,

That like a stone it fell vpon the land,

But he then tooke it vp, and held fast in his hand.

So he it brought with him vnto the knights, xviii

And to his Lord Sir _Artegall_ it lent,

Warning him hold it fast, for feare of slights.

Who whilest in hand it gryping hard[334] he hent,

Into a Hedgehogge all vnwares it went,

And prickt him so, that he away it threw.

Then gan it runne away incontinent,

Being returned to his former hew:

But _Talus_ soone him ouertooke, and backward drew.

But when as he would to a snake againe xix

Haue turn’d himselfe, he with his yron flayle

Gan driue at him, with so huge might and maine,

That all his bones, as small as sandy grayle

He broke, and did his bowels disentrayle;

Crying in vaine for helpe, when helpe was past.

So did deceipt the selfe deceiuer fayle,

There they him left a carrion outcast;

For beasts and foules to feede vpon for their repast.

Thence forth they passed with that gentle Mayd, xx

To see her Ladie, as they did agree.

To which when she approched, thus she sayd;

Loe now, right noble knights, arriu’d ye bee

Nigh to the place, which ye desir’d to see:

There shall ye see my souerayne Lady Queene

Most sacred wight, most debonayre and free,

That euer yet vpon this earth was seene,

Or that with Diademe hath euer crowned beene.

The gentle knights reioyced much to heare xxi

The prayses of that Prince so manifold,

And passing litle further, commen were,

Where they a stately pallace did behold,

Of pompous show, much more then she had told;

With many towres, and tarras mounted hye,

And all their tops bright glistering with gold,

That seemed to outshine the dimmed skye,

And with their brightnesse daz’d the straunge beholders eye.

There they alighting, by that Damzell were xxii

Directed in, and shewed all the sight:

Whose porch, that most magnificke did appeare,

Stood open wyde to all men day and night;

Yet warded well by one of mickle might,

That sate thereby, with gyantlike resemblance,

To keepe out guyle, and malice, and despight,

That vnder shew oftimes[335] of fayned semblance,

Are wont in Princes courts to worke great scath and hindrance.

His name was _Awe_; by whom they passing in xxiii

Went vp the hall, that was a large wyde roome,

All full of people making troublous din,

And wondrous noyse, as if that there were some,

Which vnto them was dealing righteous doome.

By whom they passing, through the thickest preasse,

The marshall of the hall to them did come;

His name hight _Order_, who commaunding peace,

Them guyded through the throng, that did their clamors ceasse.

They ceast their clamors vpon them to gaze; xxiv

Whom seeing all in armour bright as day,

Straunge there to see, it did them much amaze,

And with vnwonted terror halfe affray.

For neuer saw they there the like array,

Ne euer was the name of warre there spoken,

But ioyous peace and quietnesse alway,

Dealing iust iudgements, that mote not be broken

For any brybes, or threates of any to be wroken.

There as they entred at the Scriene, they saw xxv

Some one, whose tongue was for his trespasse vyle

Nayld to a post, adiudged so by law:

For that therewith he falsely did reuyle,

And foule blaspheme that Queene for forged guyle,

Both with bold speaches, which he blazed had,

And with lewd poems, which he did compyle;

For the bold title of a Poet bad

He on himselfe had ta’en, and rayling rymes had sprad.

Thus there he stood, whylest high ouer his head, xxvi

There written was the purport of his sin,

In cyphers strange, that few could rightly read,

BON FONT[336]: but _bon_ that once had written bin,

Was raced out, and _Mal_ was now put in.

So now _Malfont_ was plainely to be red;

Eyther for th’euill, which he did therein,

Or that he likened was to a welhed

Of euill words, and wicked sclaunders[337] by him shed.

They passing by, were guyded by degree xxvii

Vnto the presence of that gratious Queene:

Who sate on high, that she might all men see,

And might of all men royally be seene,

Vpon a throne of gold full bright and sheene,

Adorned all with gemmes of endlesse price,

As either might for wealth haue gotten bene,

Or could be fram’d by workmans rare deuice;

And all embost with Lyons and with Flourdelice.

All ouer her a cloth of state was spred, xxviii

Not of rich tissew, nor of cloth of gold,

Nor of ought else, that may be richest red,

But like a cloud, as likest may be told,

That her brode spreading wings did wyde vnfold;

Whose skirts were bordred with bright sunny beams,

Glistring like gold, amongst the plights enrold,

And here and there shooting forth siluer streames,

Mongst which crept litle Angels through the glittering gleames.

Seemed those litle Angels did vphold xxix

The cloth of state, and on their purpled wings

Did beare the pendants, through their nimblesse bold:

Besides a thousand more of such, as sings

Hymnes to high God, and carols heauenly things,

Encompassed the throne, on which she sate:

She Angel-like, the heyre of ancient kings

And mightie Conquerors, in royall state,

Whylest kings and kesars at her feet did them prostrate.

Thus she did sit in souerayne Maiestie, xxx

Holding a Scepter in her royall hand,

The sacred pledge of peace and clemencie,

With which high God had blest her happie land,

Maugre so many foes, which did withstand.

But at her feet her sword was likewise layde,

Whose long rest rusted the bright steely brand;

Yet when as foes enforst, or friends sought ayde,

She could it sternely draw, that all the world dismayde.

And round about, before her feet there sate xxxi

A beuie of faire Virgins clad in white,

That goodly seem’d t’adorne her royall state,

All louely daughters of high _Ioue_, that hight[338]

_Litæ_,[339] by him begot in loues delight,

Vpon the righteous _Themis_: those they say

Vpon _Ioues_ iudgement seat wayt day and night,

And when in wrath he threats the worlds decay,

They doe his anger calme, and cruell vengeance stay.