Chapter I: Book VII: Two Cantos of Mvtabilitie 454 (1)

A LETTER OF THE AVTHORS TO SIR WALTER RALEIGH 485

COMMENDATORY VERSES:

A Vision vpon this conceipt of the _Faery Queene_ 488
Another of the same 488
To the learned Shepheard 489
Fayre _Thamis_ streame, that from _Ludds_ stately towne 490
Graue Muses march in triumph and with prayses 490
When stout _Achilles_ heard of _Helens_ rape 490
To looke vpon a worke of rare deuise 491

DEDICATORY SONNETS:

To the right honourable Sir Christopher Hatton 492
To the right honourable the Lo. Burleigh 492
To the right Honourable the Earle of Oxenford 493
To the right honourable the Earle of Northumberland 493
To the right honourable the Earle of Cumberland 494
To the most honourable and excellent Lo. the Earle of Essex 494
To the right Honourable the Earle of Ormond and Ossory 495
To the right honourable the Lo. Ch. Howard 495
To the right honourable the Lord of Hunsdon 496
To the most renowmed and valiant Lord, the Lord Grey of Wilton 496
To the right honourable the Lord of Buckhurst 497
To the right honourable Sir Fr. Walsingham knight 497
To the right noble Lord and most valiaunt Captaine, Sir Iohn
Norris knight 498
To the right noble and valorous knight, Sir Walter Raleigh 498
To the right honourable and most vertuous Lady, the Countesse
of Penbroke 499
To the most vertuous, and beautifull Lady, the Lady Carew 499
To all the gratious and beautifull Ladies in the Court 500

CRITICAL APPENDIX 501

THE SECOND
PART OF THE
FAERIE QVEENE.

_Containing_
THE FOVRTH,
FIFTH, AND
SIXTH BOOKES.

_By Ed. Spenser._

Imprinted at London for VVilliam
Ponsonby. 1596.

THE FOVRTH
BOOKE OF THE
FAERIE QVEENE.

_Containing_

The Legend of CAMBEL and TELAMOND[1],

OR

OF FRIENDSHIP.

The rugged forhead that with graue foresight i
Welds[2] kingdomes causes, and affaires of state,
My looser rimes (I wote) doth sharply wite,
For praising loue, as I haue done of late,
And magnifying louers deare debate;
By which fraile youth is oft to follie led,
Through false allurement of that pleasing baite,
That better were in vertues discipled,
Then with vaine poemes weeds to haue their fancies fed.

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

Which who so list looke backe to former ages, iii
And call to count the things that then were donne,
Shall find, that all the workes of those wise sages,
And braue exploits which great Heroes wonne,
In loue were either ended or begunne:
Witnesse the father of Philosophie,
Which to his _Critias_, shaded oft from sunne,
Of loue full manie lessons did apply,
The which these Stoicke censours cannot well deny.

To such therefore I do not sing at all, iv
But to that sacred Saint my soueraigne Queene,
In whose chast[3] breast all bountie naturall,
And treasures of true loue enlocked beene,
Boue all her sexe that euer yet was seene;
To her I sing of loue, that loueth best,
And best is lou’d of all aliue I weene:
To her this song most fitly is addrest,
The Queene of loue, and Prince of peace from heauen blest.

Which that she may the better deigne to heare, v
Do thou dred[4] infant, _Venus_ dearling doue,
From her high spirit chase imperious feare,
And vse of awfull Maiestie remoue:
In sted thereof[5] with drops of melting loue,
Deawd with ambrosiall kisses, by thee gotten
From thy sweete smyling mother from aboue,
Sprinckle her heart, and haughtie courage soften,
That she may hearke to loue, and reade this lesson often.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Title 5 TELAMOND] _Triamond_ II xxxi. l. 8 &c.

[2] i 2 Wields _1609_

[3] iv 3 chaste _1609 passim_

[4] v 2 dred] drad _1609_

[5] 5 whereof _1609_

_Cant. I._

_Fayre Britomart saues Amoret,
Duessa discord breedes
Twixt Scudamour and Blandamour:
Their fight and warlike deedes._
]

Of louers sad calamities of old, i
Full many piteous stories doe remaine,
But none more piteous euer was ytold,
Then that of _Amorets_ hart-binding chaine,
And this of _Florimels_ vnworthie paine:
The deare compassion of whose bitter fit
My softened heart so sorely doth constraine,
That I with teares full oft doe pittie it,
And oftentimes doe wish it neuer had bene writ.

For from the time that _Scudamour_ her bought ii
In perilous fight, she neuer ioyed day,
A perilous fight when he with force her brought
From twentie Knights, that did him all assay:
Yet fairely well he did them all dismay:
And with great glorie both the shield of loue,
And eke the Ladie selfe he brought away,
Whom hauing wedded as did him behoue,
A new vnknowen mischiefe did from him remoue.

For that same vile Enchauntour _Busyran_, iii
The very selfe same day that she was wedded,
Amidst the bridale feast, whilest euery man
Surcharg’d with wine, were heedlesse and ill hedded,
All bent to mirth before the bride was bedded,
Brought in that mask of loue which late was showen:
And there the Ladie ill of friends bestedded,
By way of sport, as oft in maskes is knowen,
Conueyed quite away to liuing wight vnknowen.

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

Yet should it be a pleasant tale, to tell v
The diuerse vsage and demeanure daint,
That each to other made, as oft befell.
For _Amoret_ right fearefull was and faint,
Lest she with blame her honor should attaint,
That euerie word did tremble as she spake,
And euerie looke was coy, and wondrous quaint,
And euerie limbe that touched her did quake:
Yet could she not but curteous countenance to her make.

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

Thereto her feare was made so much the greater vii
Through fine abusion of that Briton mayd:
Who for to hide her fained sex the better,
And maske her wounded mind, both did and sayd
Full many things so doubtfull to be wayd,
That well she wist not what by them to gesse[6],
For other whiles to her she purpos made
Of loue, and otherwhiles of lustfulnesse,
That much she feard his mind would grow to some excesse.

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

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

Amongst the rest there was a iolly knight, x
Who being asked for his loue, auow’d
That fairest _Amoret_ was his by right,
And offred that to iustifie alowd.
The warlike virgine seeing his so prowd
And boastfull chalenge, wexed inlie wroth,
But for the present did her anger shrowd;
And sayd, her loue to lose she was full loth,
But either he should neither of them haue, or both.

So foorth they went, and both together giusted; xi
But that same younker soone was ouerthrowne,
And made repent, that he had rashly lusted
For thing vnlawfull, that was not his owne:
Yet since[7] he seemed valiant, though vnknowne,
She that no lesse was courteous then[8] stout,
Cast how to salue, that both the custome showne
Were kept, and yet that Knight not locked out,
That seem’d full hard t’accord two things so far in dout.

The Seneschall was cal’d to deeme the right, xii
Whom she requir’d, that first fayre _Amoret_
Might be to her allow’d, as to a Knight,
That did her win and free from chalenge set:
Which straight to her was yeelded without let.
Then since that strange Knights loue from him was quitted,
She claim’d that to her selfe, as Ladies det,
He as a Knight might iustly be admitted;
So none should be out shut, sith all of loues were fitted.

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

Such when those Knights and Ladies all about xiv
Beheld her, all were with amazement smit,
And euery one gan grow in secret dout
Of this and that, according to each wit:
Some thought that some enchantment faygned it;
Some, that _Bellona_ in that warlike wise
To them appear’d, with shield and armour fit;
Some, that it was a maske of strange disguise:
So diuersely each one did sundrie doubts deuise.

But that young Knight, which through her gentle deed xv
Was to that goodly fellowship restor’d,
Ten thousand thankes did yeeld her for her meed,
And doubly ouercommen, her ador’d:
So did they all their former strife accord;
And eke fayre _Amoret_ now freed from feare,
More franke affection did to her afford,
And to her bed, which she was wont forbeare,
Now freely drew, and found right safe assurance theare.

Where all that night they of their loues did treat, xvi
And hard aduentures twixt themselues alone,
That each the other gan with passion great,
And griefull[9] pittie priuately bemone.
The morow next so soone as _Titan_ shone,
They both vprose, and to their waies them dight:
Long wandred they, yet neuer met with none[10],
That to their willes could them direct aright,
Or to them tydings tell, that mote their harts delight.

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

The one of them the false _Duessa_ hight, xviii
That now had chang’d her former wonted hew:
For she could d’on so manie shapes in sight,
As euer could Cameleon[11] colours new;
So could she forge all colours, saue the trew.
The other no whit better was then shee,
But that such as she was, she plaine did shew;
Yet otherwise much worse, if worse might bee,
And dayly more offensiue vnto each degree.

Her name was _Ate_, mother of debate, xix
And all dissention, which doth dayly grow
Amongst fraile men, that many a publike[12] state
And many a priuate oft doth ouerthrow.
Her false _Duessa_ who full well did know,
To be most fit to trouble noble knights,
Which hunt for honor, raised from below,
Out of the dwellings of the damned sprights,
Where she in darknes wastes her cursed daies and nights.

Hard by the gates of hell her dwelling is, xx
There whereas all the plagues and harmes abound,
Which punish wicked men, that walke amisse:[13]
It is a darksome delue farre vnder ground,
With thornes and barren brakes enuirond round,
That none the same may easily out win;
Yet many waies to enter may be found,
But none to issue forth when one is in:
For discord harder is to end then to begin.

And all within the riuen walls were hung xxi
With ragged monuments of times forepast,
All which the sad effects of discord sung:
There were rent robes, and broken scepters plast,[14]
Altars defyl’d, and holy things defast[15],
Disshiuered speares, and shields ytorne in twaine,
Great cities ransackt, and strong castles rast,
Nations captiued, and huge armies slaine:
Of all which ruines there some relicks did remaine.

There was the signe of antique Babylon, xxii
Of fatall Thebes, of Rome that raigned long,
Of sacred Salem, and sad Ilion,
For memorie of which on high there hong
The golden Apple, cause of all their wrong,
For which the three faire Goddesses did striue:
There also was the name of _Nimrod_ strong,
Of _Alexander_, and his Princes fiue,
Which shar’d to them the spoiles that he had got aliue.

And there the relicks[16] of the drunken fray, xxiii
The which amongst the _Lapithees_ befell,
And of the bloodie feast, which sent away
So many _Centaures_ drunken soules to hell,
That vnder great _Alcides_ furie fell:
And of the dreadfull discord, which did driue
The noble _Argonauts_ to outrage fell,
That each of life sought others to depriue,
All mindlesse of the Golden fleece, which made them striue.

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

Such was her house within; but all without, xxv
The barren ground was full of wicked weedes,
Which she her selfe had sowen all about,
Now growen great, at first of little seedes,
The seedes of euill wordes, and factious deedes;
Which when to ripenesse due they growen arre,
Bring foorth[17] an infinite increase, that breedes
Tumultuous trouble and contentious iarre,
The which most often end in bloodshed and in warre.

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

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

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

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

So much her malice did her might surpas, xxx
That euen th’Almightie selfe she did maligne,
Because to man so mercifull he was,
And vnto all his creatures so benigne,
Sith she her selfe was of his grace indigne:
For all this worlds faire workmanship she tride,
Vnto his last confusion to bring,
And that great golden chaine quite to diuide,
With which it blessed Concord hath together tide.

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

Her mate he was a iollie youthfull knight, xxxii
That bore great sway in armes and chiualrie,
And was indeed a man of mickle might:
His name was _Blandamour_, that did descrie
His fickle mind full of inconstancie.
And now himselfe he fitted had right well,
With two companions of like qualitie,
Faithlesse _Duessa_, and false _Paridell_,
That whether were more false, full hard it is to tell.

Now when this gallant with his goodly crew, xxxiii
From farre espide the famous _Britomart_,
Like knight aduenturous in outward vew,
With his faire paragon, his conquests part,
Approching nigh, eftsoones his wanton hart
Was tickled with delight, and iesting sayd;
Lo there Sir _Paridel_, for your desart,
Good lucke presents you with yond louely mayd,
For pitie that ye want a fellow for your ayd.

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

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

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

Which when his other companie beheld, xxxvii
They to his succour ran with readie ayd:
And finding him vnable once to weld,
They reared him on horsebacke, and vpstayd,
Till on his way they had him forth conuayd:
And all the way with wondrous griefe of mynd,
And shame, he shewd him selfe to be dismayd,
More for the loue which he had left behynd,
Then that which he had to Sir _Paridel_ resynd.

Nathlesse he forth did march well as he might, xxxviii
And made good semblance to his companie,
Dissembling his disease and euill plight;
Till that ere long they chaunced to espie
Two other knights, that towards them did ply[18]
With speedie course, as bent to charge them new.
Whom when as _Blandamour_ approching nie,
Perceiu’d to be such as they seemd in vew,
He was full wo, and gan his former griefe renew.

For th’one of them he perfectly descride, xxxix
To be Sir _Scudamour_, by that he bore
The God of loue, with wings displayed wide,
Whom mortally he hated euermore,
Both for his worth, that all men did adore,
And eke because his loue he wonne by right:
Which when he thought, it grieued him full sore,
That through the bruses of his former fight,
He now vnable was to wreake his old despight.

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

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

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

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

Which when as _Blandamour_ beheld, he sayd, xliv
False faitour _Scudamour_, that hast by slight
And foule advantage this good Knight dismayd,
A Knight much better then thy selfe behight,
Well falles it thee that I am not in plight
This day, to wreake the dammage by thee donne:
Such is thy wont, that still when any Knight
Is weakned, then thou doest him ouerronne:
So hast thou to thy selfe false honour often wonne.

He little answer’d, but in manly heart xlv
His mightie indignation did forbeare,
Which was not yet so secret, but some part
Thereof did in his frouning face appeare:
Like as a gloomie cloud, the which doth beare
An hideous storme, is by the Northerne blast
Quite ouerblowne, yet doth not passe so cleare,
But that it all the skie doth ouercast
With darknes dred[19], and threatens all the world to wast.

Ah gentle knight,[20] then false _Duessa_ sayd, xlvi
Why do ye striue for Ladies loue so sore,
Whose chiefe desire is loue and friendly aid
Mongst gentle Knights to nourish euermore?
Ne be ye wroth Sir _Scudamour_ therefore,
That she your loue list loue another knight,
Ne do your selfe dislike a whit the more;
For Loue is free, and led with selfe delight,
Ne will enforced be with maisterdome or might.

So false _Duessa_, but vile _Ate_ thus; xlvii
Both foolish knights, I can but laugh at both,
That striue and storme with stirre outrageous,
For her that each of you alike doth loth,
And loues another, with whom now she goth
In louely wise, and sleepes, and sports, and playes;
Whilest both you here with many a cursed oth,
Sweare she is yours, and stirre vp bloudie frayes,
To win a willow bough, whilest other weares the bayes.

Vile hag (sayd _Scudamour_) why dost thou lye? xlviii
And falsly seekst a vertuous wight to shame?
Fond knight (sayd she) the thing that with this eye
I saw, why should I doubt to tell the same?
Then tell (quoth _Blandamour_) and feare no blame,
Tell what thou saw’st, maulgre who so it heares.
I saw (quoth she) a stranger knight, whose name
I wote not well, but in his shield he beares
(That well I wote) the heads of many broken speares.

I saw him haue your _Amoret_ at will, xlix
I saw him kisse, I saw him her embrace,
I saw him sleepe with her all night his fill,
All manie nights, and manie by in place,
That present were to testifie the case.
Which when as _Scudamour_ did heare, his heart
Was thrild with inward griefe, as when in chace
The Parthian strikes a stag with shiuering dart,
The beast astonisht stands in middest of his smart.

So stood Sir _Scudamour_, when this he heard, l
Ne word he had to speake for great dismay,
But lookt on _Glauce_ grim, who woxe afeard
Of outrage for the words, which she heard say,
Albee vntrue she wist them by assay.
But _Blandamour_, whenas he did espie
His chaunge of cheere, that anguish did bewray,
He woxe full blithe, as he had got thereby,
And gan thereat to triumph without victorie.

Lo recreant (sayd he) the fruitlesse end li
Of thy vaine boast, and spoile of loue misgotten,
Whereby the name of knight-hood thou dost shend,
And all true louers with dishonor blotten,
All things not rooted well, will soone be rotten.[21]
Fy fy false knight (then false _Duessa_ cryde)
Vnworthy life that loue with guile hast gotten,
Be thou, where euer thou do go or ryde,
Loathed of ladies all, and of all knights defyde.

But _Scudamour_ for passing great despight lii
Staid not to answer, scarcely did refraine,
But that in all those knights and ladies sight,
He for reuenge had guiltlesse _Glauce_ slaine:
But being past, he thus began amaine;
False traitour squire, false squire, of falsest knight,
Why doth mine hand from thine auenge abstaine,
Whose Lord hath done my loue this foule despight?
Why do I not it wreake, on thee now in my might?

Discourteous, disloyall _Britomart_, liii
Vntrue to God, and vnto man vniust,
What vengeance due can equall thy desart,
That hast with shamefull spot of sinfull lust
Defil’d the pledge committed to thy trust?
Let vgly shame and endlesse infamy
Colour thy name with foule reproaches rust.
Yet thou false Squire his fault shalt deare aby,
And with thy punishment his penance shalt supply.

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

FOOTNOTES:

[6] vii 6 ghesse _1609_

[7] xi 5 since] sith _1609_

[8] 6 then] and _1609_

[9] xvi 4 griefe-full _1609_

[10] 7 none] one _1609_

[11] xviii 4 Chameleon _1609_

[12] xix 3 publique _1609_

[13] xx 3 amisse, _1596_

[14] xxi 4, 5 plac’t, defac’t _1609_

[15] xxi 4, 5 plac’t, defac’t _1609_

[16] xxiii 1 reliques _1609_

[17] xxv 7 forth _1609_

[18] xxxviii 5 ply. _1596_

[19] xlv 9 dred] drad _1609_

[20] xlvi 1 knight _1596_

[21] li 5 rotten, _1596_

_Cant. II._

_Blandamour winnes false Florimell,
Paridell for her striues,
They are accorded: Agape
doth lengthen her sonnes liues._
]

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

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

Such vs’d wise _Glauce_ to that wrathfull knight, iii
To calme the tempest of his troubled thought:
Yet _Blandamour_ with termes of foule despight,
And _Paridell_ her scornd, and set at nought,
As[22] old and crooked and not good for ought.
Both they vnwise, and warelesse of the euill,
That by themselues vnto themselues is wrought,
Through that false witch, and that foule aged dreuill,
The one a feend, the other an incarnate deuill.

With whom as they thus rode accompanide, iv
They were encountred of a lustie Knight,
That had a goodly Ladie by his side,
To whom he made great dalliance and delight.
It was to weete the bold Sir _Ferraugh_ hight,
He that from _Braggadocchio_ whilome reft
The snowy _Florimell_, whose beautie bright
Made him seeme happie for so glorious theft;
Yet was it in due triall but a wandring weft.

Which when as _Blandamour_, whose fancie light v
Was alwaies flitting as the wauering wind,
After each beautie, that appeard in sight,
Beheld, eftsoones it prickt his wanton mind
With sting of lust, that reasons eye did blind,
That to Sir _Paridell_ these words he sent;
Sir knight why ride ye dumpish thus behind,
Since so good fortune doth to you present
So fayre a spoyle, to make you ioyous meriment?

But _Paridell_ that had too late a tryall vi
Of the bad issue of his counsell vaine,
List not to hearke, but made this faire denyall;
Last turne was mine, well proued to my paine,
This now be yours, God send you better gaine.
Whose scoffed words he taking halfe in scorne,
Fiercely forth prickt his steed as in disdaine,
Against that Knight, ere he him well could torne:[23]
By meanes whereof he hath him lightly ouerborne.

Who with the sudden stroke astonisht sore, vii
Vpon the ground a while in slomber lay;
The whiles his loue away the other bore,
And shewing her, did _Paridell_ vpbray;
Lo sluggish Knight the victors happie pray:
So fortune friends the bold: whom _Paridell_
Seeing so faire indeede, as he did say,
His hart with secret enuie gan to swell,
And inly grudge at him, that he had sped so well.

Nathlesse proud man himselfe the other deemed, viii
Hauing so peerelesse paragon ygot:
For sure the fayrest _Florimell_ him seemed,
To him was fallen for his happie lot,
Whose like aliue on earth he weened not:
Therefore he her did court, did serue, did wooe,
With humblest suit that he imagine mot,
And all things did deuise, and all things dooe,
That might her loue prepare, and liking win theretoo.

She in regard thereof him recompenst ix
With golden words, and goodly countenance,
And such fond fauours sparingly dispenst:
Sometimes him blessing with a light eye-glance,
And coy lookes tempring with loose dalliance;
Sometimes estranging him in sterner wise,
That hauing cast him in a foolish trance,
He seemed brought to bed in Paradise,
And prou’d himselfe most foole, in what he seem’d most wise.

So great a mistresse of her art she was, x
And perfectly practiz’d in womans craft,
That though therein himselfe he thought to pas,
And by his false allurements wylie draft[24]
Had thousand women of their loue beraft,
Yet now he was surpriz’d: for that false spright,
Which that same witch had in this forme engraft,
Was so expert in euery subtile slight,
That it could ouerreach the wisest earthly wight.

Yet he to her did dayly seruice more, xi
And dayly more deceiued was thereby;
Yet _Paridell_ him enuied therefore,
As seeming plast in sole felicity:
So blind is lust, false colours to descry.
But _Ate_ soone discouering his desire,
And finding now fit opportunity
To stirre vp strife, twixt loue and spight and ire,
Did priuily put coles vnto his secret fire.

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

Too boastfull _Blandamour_, too long I beare xiii
The open wrongs, thou doest me day by day;[25]
Well know’st thou, when we friendship first did sweare,
The couenant was, that euery spoyle or pray
Should equally be shard betwixt vs tway:
Where is my part then of this Ladie bright,
Whom to thy selfe thou takest quite away?
Render therefore therein to me my right,
Or answere for thy wrong, as shall fall out in fight.

Exceeding wroth thereat was _Blandamour_, xiv
And gan this bitter answere to him make;
Too foolish _Paridell_, that fayrest floure
Wouldst gather faine, and yet no paines wouldst take:
But not so easie will I her forsake;
This hand her wonne, this hand shall her defend.
With that they gan their shiuering speares to shake,
And deadly points at eithers breast to bend,
Forgetfull each to haue bene euer others frend.

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

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

At length they both vpstarted in amaze,[26] xvii
As men awaked rashly out of dreme;[27]
And round about themselues a while did gaze,
Till seeing her, that _Florimell_ did seme,
In doubt to whom she victorie should deeme,
Therewith their dulled sprights they edgd anew,
And drawing both their swords with rage extreme,
Like two mad mastiffes each on other flew,
And shields did share, and mailes did rash, and helmes did hew.

So furiously each other did assayle, xviii
As if their soules they would attonce haue rent
Out of their brests, that streames of bloud did rayle
Adowne, as if their springs of life were spent;
That all the ground with purple bloud was sprent,
And all their armours staynd with bloudie gore,
Yet scarcely once to breath[28] would they relent,
So mortall was their malice and so sore,
Become of fayned friendship which they vow’d afore.

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

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

And then those Knights he humbly did beseech, xxi
To stay their hands, till he a while had spoken:
Who lookt a little vp at that his speech,
Yet would not let their battell so be broken,
Both greedie fiers on other to be wroken.
Yet he to them so earnestly did call,
And them coniur’d by some well knowen[29] token,
That they at last their wrothfull hands let fall,
Content to heare him speake, and glad to rest withall.

First he desir’d their cause of strife to see: xxii
They said, it was for loue of _Florimell_.[30]
Ah gentle knights (quoth he) how may that bee,
And she so farre astray, as none can tell.[31]
Fond Squire, full angry then sayd _Paridell_,
Seest not the Ladie there before thy face?
He looked backe, and her aduizing[32] well,
Weend as he said, by that her outward grace,
That fayrest _Florimell_ was present there in place.

Glad man was he to see that ioyous sight, xxiii
For none aliue but ioy’d in _Florimell_,
And lowly to her lowting thus behight;
Fayrest of faire, that fairenesse doest excell,
This happie day I haue to greete you well,
In which you safe I see, whom thousand late[33]
Misdoubted lost through mischiefe that befell;
Long may you liue in health and happie state.[34]
She litle answer’d him, but lightly did aggrate.

Then turning to those Knights, he gan a new; xxiv
And you Sir _Blandamour_ and _Paridell_,
That for this Ladie present in your vew,
Haue rays’d this cruell warre and outrage fell,
Certes me seemes bene not aduised well,
But rather ought in friendship for her sake
To ioyne your force, their forces to repell,
That seeke perforce her from you both to take,
And of your gotten spoyle their owne triumph to make.

Thereat Sir _Blandamour_ with countenance[35] sterne, xxv
All full of wrath, thus fiercely him bespake;
A read thou Squire, that I the man may learne,
That dare fro me thinke _Florimell_ to take.
Not one (quoth he) but many doe partake
Herein, as thus. It lately so befell,
That Satyran a girdle did vptake,
Well knowne to appertaine to _Florimell_,
Which for her sake he wore, as him beseemed well.

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

And of them all she that is fayrest found, xxvii
Shall haue that golden girdle for reward,
And of those Knights who is most stout on ground,
Shall to that fairest Ladie be prefard.
Since[36] therefore she her selfe is now your ward,
To you that ornament of hers pertaines,
Against all those, that chalenge it to gard,
And saue her honour with your ventrous paines;
That shall you win more glory, then ye here find gaines.

When they the reason of his words had hard, xxviii
They gan abate the rancour of their rage,
And with their honours and their loues regard,
The furious flames of malice to asswage.
Tho each to other did his faith engage,
Like faithfull friends thenceforth to ioyne in one
With all their force, and battell strong to wage
Gainst all those knights, as their professed fone,
That chaleng’d ought in _Florimell_, saue they alone.

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

Thus as they marched all in close disguise[37] xxx
Of fayned loue, they chaunst to ouertake
Two knights, that lincked rode in louely wise,
As if they secret counsels did partake;
And each not farre behinde him had his make,
To weete, two Ladies of most goodly hew,
That twixt themselues did gentle purpose make,
Vnmindfull both of that discordfull crew,
The which with speedie pace did after them pursew.

Who as they now approched nigh at hand, xxxi
Deeming them doughtie as they did appeare,
They sent that Squire afore, to vnderstand,
What mote they be: who viewing them more neare
Returned readie newes, that those same weare
Two of the prowest Knights in Faery lond;
And those two Ladies their two louers deare,
Couragious _Cambell_, and stout _Triamond_,
With _Canacee_ and _Cambine_ linckt in louely bond.

Whylome as antique stories tellen vs, xxxii
Those two were foes the fellonest on ground,
And battell made the dreddest[38] daungerous,
That euer shrilling trumpet did resound;
Though now their acts be no where to be found,
As that renowmed Poet them compyled,
With warlike numbers and Heroicke sound,
Dan _Chaucer_, well of English vndefyled,
On Fames eternall beadroll worthie to be fyled.

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

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

_Cambelloes_ sister was fayre _Canacee_, xxxv
That was the learnedst Ladie in her dayes,
Well seene in euerie science that mote bee,
And euery secret worke of natures wayes,
In wittie riddles, and in wise soothsayes,
In power of herbes, and tunes of beasts and burds;
And, that augmented all her other prayse,
She modest was in all her deedes and words,
And wondrous chast of life, yet lou’d of Knights and Lords.

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

So much the more as she refusd to loue, xxxvii
So much the more she loued was and sought,
That oftentimes vnquiet strife did moue
Amongst her louers, and great quarrels wrought,
That oft for her in bloudie armes they fought.
Which whenas _Cambell_, that was stout and wise,
Perceiu’d would breede great mischiefe, he bethought
How to preuent the perill that mote rise,
And turne both him and her to honour in this wise.

One day, when all that troupe of warlike wooers xxxviii
Assembled were, to weet whose she should bee,
All mightie men and dreadfull derring dooers,
(The harder it to make them well agree)
Amongst them all this end he did decree;
That of them all, which loue to her did make,
They by consent should chose[39] the stoutest three,
That with himselfe should combat for her sake,
And of them all the victour should his sister take.

Bold was the chalenge, as himselfe was bold, xxxix
And courage full of haughtie hardiment,
Approued oft in perils manifold,
Which he atchieu’d to his great ornament:
But yet his sisters skill vnto him lent
Most confidence and hope of happie speed,
Concerned by a ring, which she him sent,
That mongst the manie vertues, which we reed,
Had power to staunch al wounds, that mortally did bleed.

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

Amongst those knights there were three brethren bold, xli
Three bolder brethren neuer were yborne,
Borne of one mother in one happie mold,
Borne at one burden in one happie morne,
Thrise happie mother, and thrise happie morne,
That bore three such, three such not to be fond;
Her name was _Agape_ whose children werne
All three as one, the first hight _Priamond_,
The second _Dyamond_, the youngest _Triamond_.

Stout _Priamond_ but not so strong to strike, xlii
Strong _Diamond_, but not so stout a knight,
But _Triamond_ was stout and strong alike:
On horsebacke vsed _Triamond_ to fight,
And _Priamond_ on foote had more delight,
But horse and foote knew _Diamond_ to wield:
With curtaxe vsed _Diamond_ to smite,
And _Triamond_ to handle speare and shield,
But speare and curtaxe both vsd _Priamond_ in field.

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

Their mother was a Fay, and had the skill xliv
Of secret things, and all the powres of nature,
Which she by art could vse vnto her will,
And to her seruice bind each liuing creature,[40]
Through secret vnderstanding of their feature.
Thereto she was right faire, when so her face
She list discouer, and of goodly stature;
But she as Fayes are wont, in priuie place
Did spend her dayes, and lov’d in forests wyld to space.

There on a day a noble youthly knight xlv
Seeking aduentures in the saluage wood,
Did by great fortune get of her the sight,[41]
As she sate carelesse by a cristall flood,
Combing her golden lockes, as seemd her good:
And vnawares vpon her laying hold,
That stroue in vaine him long to haue withstood,
Oppressed her, and there (as it is told)
Got these three louely babes, that prov’d three champions bold.

Which she with her long fostred in that wood, xlvi
Till that to ripenesse of mans state they grew:
Then shewing forth signes of their fathers blood,
They loued armes, and knighthood did ensew,
Seeking aduentures, where they anie knew.
Which when their mother saw, she gan to dout
Their safetie, least by searching daungers new,
And rash prouoking perils all about,
Their days mote be abridged through[42] their corage stout.

Therefore desirous th’end of all their dayes xlvii
To know, and them t’enlarge with long extent,
By wondrous skill, and many hidden wayes,
To the three fatall sisters house she went.
Farre vnder ground from tract of liuing went,
Downe in the bottome of the deepe _Abysse_,
Where _Demogorgon_ in dull darknesse pent,
Farre from the view of Gods and heauens blis,
The hideous _Chaos_ keepes, their dreadfull dwelling is.

There she them found, all sitting round about xlviii
The direfull distaffe standing in the mid,
And with vnwearied fingers drawing out
The lines of life, from liuing knowledge hid.
Sad _Clotho_ held the rocke, the whiles the thrid
By griesly _Lachesis_ was spun with paine,
That cruell _Atropos_ eftsoones vndid,
With cursed knife cutting the twist in twaine:
Most wretched men, whose dayes depend on thrids so vaine.

She them saluting, there by them sate still, xlix
Beholding how the thrids of life they span:
And when at last she had beheld her fill,
Trembling in heart, and looking pale and wan,
Her cause of comming she to tell began.
To whom fierce _Atropos_, Bold Fay, that durst
Come see the secret of the life of man,
Well worthie[43] thou to be of _Ioue_ accurst,
And eke thy childrens thrids to be a sunder burst.

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

She then began them humbly to intreate, li
To draw them longer out, and better twine,
That so their liues might be prolonged late.
But _Lachesis_ thereat gan to repine,
And sayd, Fond[44] dame that deem’st of things diuine
As of humane, that they may altred bee,
And chaung’d at pleasure for those impes of thine.
Not so; for what the Fates do once decree,
Not all the gods can chaunge, nor _Ioue_ him self can free.

Then since[45] (quoth she) the terme of each mans life lii
For nought may lessened nor enlarged bee,
Graunt this, that when ye shred with fatall knife
His line, which is the eldest of the three,
Which is of them the shortest, as I see,
Eftsoones his life may passe into the next;
And when the next shall likewise ended bee,
That both their liues may likewise be annext
Vnto the third, that his may so be trebly wext.

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

So did they surely during all their dayes, liv
And neuer discord did amongst them fall;
Which much augmented all their other praise.
And now t’increase affection naturall,
In loue of _Canacee_ they ioyned all:
Vpon which ground this same great battell grew,
Great matter growing of beginning small;
The which for length I will not here pursew,
But rather will reserue it for a Canto new.

FOOTNOTES:

[22] iii 5 As] And _1609_

[23] vi 8 torne _1596_

[24] x 4 draft, _1596_, _1609_

[25] xiii 2 day by day, _1596_

[26] xvii 1 amaze; _1596 &c._

[27] 2 dreme, _1596 &c._

[28] xviii 7 breathe _1609_

[29] xxi 7 known _1609_

[30] xxii 2 _Florimell_, _1596_

[31] 4 tell, _1596_

[32] 7 avising _1609_

[33] xxiii 6 late, _1596_

[34] 8 state, _1596_

[35] xxv 1 count’nance _1609_

[36] xxvii 5 Sith _1609_

[37] xxx 1 disguise, _1596_

[38] xxxii 3 draddest _1609_

[39] xxxviii 7 chuse _1609_

[40] xliv 4 creature: _1596_

[41] xlv 3 sight; _1596_

[42] xlvi 9 throgh _1609_

[43] xlix 8 woorthy _1609_

[44] li 5 fond _1596_

[45] lii 1 since] sith _1609_

_Cant. III._

_The battell twixt three brethren with
Cambell for Canacee:[46]
Cambina with true friendships bond
doth their long strife agree._
]

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

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