Chapter VII: Book VII: Two Cantos of Mvtabilitie 454 (7)

It fortun’d whylest they were thus ill beset, x
Sir _Artegall_ into the Tilt-yard came,
With _Braggadochio_, whom he lately met
Vpon the way, with that his snowy Dame.
Where when he vnderstood by common fame,
What euill hap to _Marinell_ betid,
He much was mou’d at so vnworthie shame,
And streight that boaster prayd, with whom he rid,
To change his shield with him, to be the better hid.

So forth he went, and soone them ouer hent, xi
Where they were leading _Marinell_ away,
Whom he assayld with dreadlesse hardiment,
And forst the burden of their prize to stay.
They were an hundred knights of that array;
Of which th’one halfe vpon himselfe did set,
The other[270] stayd behind to gard the pray.
But he ere long the former fiftie bet;
And from the other[271] fiftie soone the prisoner fet.

So backe he brought Sir _Marinell_ againe; xii
Whom hauing quickly arm’d againe anew,
They both together ioyned might and maine,
To set afresh on all the other crew.
Whom with sore hauocke soone they ouerthrew,
And chaced quite out of the field, that none
Against them durst his head to perill shew.
So were they left Lords of the field alone:
So _Marinell_ by him was rescu’d from his fone.

Which when he had perform’d, then backe againe xiii
To _Braggadochio_ did his shield restore:
Who all this while behind him did remaine,
Keeping there close with him in pretious store
That his false Ladie, as ye heard afore.
Then did the trompets sound, and Iudges rose,
And all these knights, which that day armour bore,
Came to the open hall, to listen whose
The honour of the prize should be adiudg’d by those.

And thether also came in open sight xiv
Fayre _Florimell_, into the common hall,
To greet his guerdon vnto euery knight,
And best to him, to whom the best should fall.
Then for that stranger knight they loud did call,
To whom that day they should the girlond yield.
Who came not forth, but for Sir _Artegall_
Came _Braggadochio_, and did shew his shield,
Which bore the Sunne brode blazed in a golden field.

The sight whereof did all with gladnesse fill: xv
So vnto him they did addeeme the prise
Of all that Tryumph. Then the trompets shrill
Don _Braggadochios_ name resounded thrise:
So courage lent a cloke to cowardise.
And then to him came fayrest _Florimell_,
And goodly gan to greet his braue emprise,
And thousand thankes him yeeld, that had so well
Approu’d that day, that she all others did excell.

To whom the boaster, that all knights did blot, xvi
With proud disdaine did scornefull answere make;
That what he did that day, he did it not
For her, but for his owne deare Ladies sake,
Whom on his perill he did vndertake,
Both her and eke all others to excell:
And further did vncomely speaches crake.
Much did his words the gentle Ladie quell,
And turn’d aside for shame to heare, what he did tell.

Then forth he brought his snowy _Florimell_, xvii
Whom _Trompart_ had in keeping there beside,
Couered from peoples gazement with a vele.
Whom when discouered they had throughly eide,
With great amazement they were stupefide;
And said, that surely _Florimell_ it was,
Or if it were not _Florimell_ so tride,
That _Florimell_ her selfe she then did pas.
So feeble skill of perfect things the vulgar has.

Which when as _Marinell_ beheld likewise, xviii
He was therewith exceedingly dismayd;
Ne wist he what to thinke, or to deuise,
But like as one, whom feends had made affrayd,
He long astonisht stood, ne ought he sayd,
Ne ought he did, but with fast fixed eies
He gazed still vpon that snowy mayd;
Whom euer as he did the more auize,
The more to be true _Florimell_ he did surmize.

As when two sunnes appeare in the azure[272] skye, xix
Mounted in _Phœbus_ charet fierie bright,
Both darting forth faire beames to each mans eye,
And both adorn’d with lampes of flaming light,
All that behold so strange prodigious sight,
Not knowing natures worke, nor what to weene,
Are rapt with wonder, and with rare affright.
So stood Sir _Marinell_, when he had seene
The semblant of this false by his faire beauties Queene.

All which when _Artegall_, who all this while xx
Stood in the preasse close couered, well aduewed,
And saw that boasters pride and gracelesse guile,
He could no longer beare, but forth issewed,
And vnto all himselfe there open shewed,
And to the boaster said; Thou losell base,
That hast with borrowed plumes thy selfe endewed,
And others worth with leasings doest deface,
When they are all restor’d, thou shalt rest in disgrace.

That shield, which thou doest beare, was it indeed, xxi
Which this dayes honour sau’d to _Marinell_;
But not that arme, nor thou the man I reed,
Which didst that seruice vnto _Florimell_.
For proofe shew forth thy sword, and let it tell,
What strokes, what dreadfull stoure it stird this day:
Or shew the wounds, which vnto thee befell;
Or shew the sweat, with which thou diddest sway
So sharpe a battell, that so many did dismay.

But this the sword, which wrought those cruell stounds, xxii
And this the arme, the which that shield did beare,
And these the signes, (so shewed forth his wounds)
By which that glorie gotten doth appeare.
As for this Ladie, which he sheweth here,
Is not (I wager) _Florimell_ at all;
But some fayre Franion, fit for such a fere,
That by misfortune in his hand did fall.
For proofe whereof, he bad them _Florimell_ forth call.

So forth the noble Ladie was ybrought, xxiii
Adorn’d with honor and all comely grace:
Whereto her bashfull shamefastnesse ywrought
A great increase in her faire blushing face;
As roses did with lillies interlace.
For of those words, the which that boaster threw,
She inly yet conceiued great disgrace.
Whom when as all the people such did vew,
They shouted loud, and signes of gladnesse all did shew.

Then did he set her by that snowy one, xxiv
Like the true saint beside the image set,
Of both their beauties to make paragone,
And triall, whether should the honor get.
Streight way so soone as both together met,
Th’enchaunted Damzell vanisht into nought:
Her snowy substance melted as with heat,
Ne of that goodly hew remayned ought,
But th’emptie girdle, which about her wast was wrought.

As when the daughter of _Thaumantes_ faire, xxv
Hath in a watry cloud displayed wide
Her goodly bow, which paints the liquid ayre;
That all men wonder at her colours pride;
All suddenly, ere one can looke aside,
The glorious picture vanisheth away,
Ne any token doth thereof abide:
So did this Ladies goodly forme decay,
And into nothing goe, ere one could it bewray.

Which when as all that present were, beheld, xxvi
They stricken were with great astonishment,
And their faint harts with senselesse horrour queld,
To see the thing, that seem’d so excellent,
So stolen from their fancies wonderment;
That what of it became, none vnderstood.
And _Braggadochio_ selfe with dreriment
So daunted was in his despeyring mood,
That like a lifelesse corse immoueable he stood.

But _Artegall_ that golden belt vptooke, xxvii
The which of all her spoyle was onely left;
Which was not hers, as many it mistooke,
But _Florimells_ owne girdle, from her reft,
While she was flying, like a weary weft,
From that foule monster, which did her compell
To perils great; which he vnbuckling eft,
Presented to the fayrest _Florimell_;
Who round about her tender wast it fitted well.

Full many Ladies often had assayd, xxviii
About their middles that faire belt to knit;
And many a one suppos’d to be a mayd:
Yet it to none of all their loynes would fit,
Till _Florimell_ about her fastned it.
Such power it had, that to no womans wast
By any skill or labour it would sit,
Vnlesse that she were continent and chast,
But it would lose or breake, that many had disgrast.

Whilest thus they busied were bout _Florimell_, xxix
And boastfull _Braggadochio_ to defame,
Sir _Guyon_ as by fortune then befell,
Forth from the thickest preasse of people came,
His owne good steed, which he had stolne, to clame;
And th’one hand seizing on his golden bit,
With th’other drew his sword: for with the same
He ment the thiefe there deadly to haue smit:
And had he not bene held, he nought had fayld of it.

Thereof great hurly burly moued was xxx
Throughout the hall, for that same warlike horse.
For _Braggadochio_ would not let him pas;
And _Guyon_ would him algates haue perforse,
Or it approue vpon his carrion corse.
Which troublous stirre when _Artegall_ perceiued,
He nigh them drew to stay th’auengers forse,
And gan inquire, how was that steed bereaued,
Whether by might extort, or else by slight deceaued.

Who all that piteous storie, which befell xxxi
About that wofull couple, which were slaine,
And their young bloodie babe to him gan tell;
With whom whiles he did in the wood remaine,
His horse purloyned was by subtill traine:
For which he chalenged the thiefe to fight.
But he for nought could him thereto constraine.
For as the death he hated such despight,
And rather had to lose, then trie in armes his right.

Which _Artegall_ well hearing, though no more xxxii
By law of armes there neede ones right to trie,
As was the wont of warlike knights of yore,
Then that his foe should him the field denie,
Yet further right by tokens to descrie,
He askt, what priuie tokens he did beare.
If that (said _Guyon_) may you satisfie,
Within his mouth a blacke spot doth appeare,
Shapt like a horses shoe, who list to seeke it there.

Whereof to make due tryall, one did take xxxiii
The horse in hand, within his mouth to looke:
But with his heeles so sorely he him strake,
That all his ribs he quite in peeces broke,
That neuer word from that day forth he spoke.
Another that would seeme to haue more wit,
Him by the bright embrodered hedstall tooke:
But by the shoulder him so sore he bit,
That he him maymed quite, and all his shoulder split.

Ne he his mouth would open vnto wight, xxxiv
Vntill that _Guyon_ selfe vnto him spake,
And called _Brigadore_ (so was he hight)
Whose voice so soone as he did vndertake,
Eftsoones he stood as still as any stake,
And suffred all his secret marke to see:
And when as he him nam’d, for ioy he brake
His bands, and follow’d him with gladfull glee,
And friskt, and flong aloft, and louted low on knee.

Thereby Sir _Artegall_ did plaine areed, xxxv
That vnto him the horse belong’d, and sayd;
Lo there Sir _Guyon_, take to you the steed,
As he with golden saddle is arayd;
And let that losell, plainely now displayd,
Hence fare on foot, till he an horse haue gayned.
But the proud boaster gan his doome vpbrayd,
And him reuil’d, and rated, and disdayned,
That iudgement so vniust against him had ordayned.

Much was the knight incenst with his lewd word, xxxvi
To haue reuenged that his villeny;
And thrise did lay his hand vpon his sword,
To haue him slaine, or dearely doen aby.
But _Guyon_ did his choler pacify,
Saying, Sir knight, it would dishonour bee
To you, that are our iudge of equity,
To wreake your wrath on such a carle as hee:[273]
It’s punishment enough, that all his shame doe see.

So did he mitigate Sir _Artegall_, xxxvii
But _Talus_ by the backe the boaster hent,
And drawing him out of the open hall,
Vpon him did inflict this punishment.
First he his beard did shaue, and fowly shent:
Then from him reft his shield, and it renuerst,
And blotted out his armes with falshood blent,
And himselfe baffuld, and his armes vnherst,
And broke his sword in twaine, and all his armour sperst.

The whiles his guilefull groome was fled away: xxxviii
But vaine it was to thinke from him to flie.
Who ouertaking him did disaray,
And all his face deform’d with infamie,
And out of court him scourged openly.
So ought all faytours, that true knighthood shame,
And armes dishonour with base villanie,
From all braue knights be banisht with defame:
For oft their lewdnes blotteth good deserts with blame.

Now when these counterfeits were thus vncased xxxix
Out of the foreside of their forgerie,
And in the sight of all men cleane disgraced,
All gan to iest and gibe full merilie
At the remembrance of their knauerie.
Ladies can laugh at Ladies, Knights at Knights,
To thinke with how great vaunt of brauerie
He them abused, through his subtill slights,
And what a glorious shew he made in all their sights.

There leaue we them in pleasure and repast, xl
Spending their ioyous dayes and gladfull nights,
And taking vsurie of time forepast,
With all deare delices and rare delights,
Fit for such Ladies and such louely knights:
And turne we[274] here to this faire furrowes end
Our wearie yokes, to gather fresher sprights,
That when as time to _Artegall_ shall tend,
We on his first aduenture may him forward send.

FOOTNOTES:

[270] xi 7 Th’other _1596_, _1609_

[271] 9 th’other _1596_, _1609_

[272] xix 1 th’azure _1609_

[273] xxxvi 8 hee _1596_

_Cant. IIII._

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

Who so vpon him selfe will take the skill i
True Iustice vnto people to diuide,
Had neede haue mightie hands, for to fulfill
That, which he doth with righteous doome decide,
And for to maister wrong and puissant pride.
For vaine it is to deeme of things aright,
And makes wrong doers iustice to deride,
Vnlesse it be perform’d with dreadlesse might.
For powre is the right hand of Iustice truely hight.

Therefore whylome to knights of great emprise ii
The charge of Iustice giuen was in trust,
That they might execute her iudgements wise,
And with their might beat downe licentious lust,
Which proudly did impugne her sentence iust.
Whereof no brauer president[275] this day
Remaines on earth, preseru’d from yron rust
Of rude obliuion, and long times decay,
Then this of _Artegall_, which here we haue to say.

Who hauing lately left that louely payre, iii
Enlincked fast in wedlockes loyall bond,
Bold _Marinell_ with _Florimell_ the fayre,
With whom great feast and goodly glee he fond,
Departed from the Castle of the strond,
To follow his aduentures first intent,
Which long agoe he taken had in hond:
Ne wight with him for his assistance went,
But that great yron groome, his gard and gouernment.

With whom as he did passe by the sea shore, iv
He chaunst to come, whereas two comely Squires,
Both brethren, whom one wombe together bore,
But stirred vp with different desires,
Together stroue, and kindled wrathfull fires:
And them beside two seemely damzels stood,
By all meanes seeking to asswage their ires,
Now with faire words; but words did little good,
Now with sharpe threats; but threats the more increast their mood.

And there before them stood a Coffer strong, v
Fast bound on euery side with iron bands,
But seeming to haue suffred mickle wrong,
Either by being wreckt vppon the sands,
Or being carried farre from forraine lands.
Seem’d that for it these Squires at ods did fall,
And bent against them selues their cruell hands.
But euermore, those Damzels did forestall
Their furious encounter, and their fiercenesse pall.

But firmely fixt they were, with dint of sword, vi
And battailes doubtfull proofe their rights to try,
Ne other end their fury would afford,
But what to them Fortune would iustify.
So stood they both in readinesse thereby,[276]
To ioyne the combate with cruell intent;
When _Artegall_ arriuing happily,
Did stay a while their greedy bickerment,
Till he had questioned the cause of their dissent.

To whom the elder did this aunswere frame; vii
Then weete ye Sir, that we two brethren be,
To whom our sire, _Milesio_ by name,
Did equally bequeath his lands in fee,
Two Ilands, which ye there before you see
Not farre in sea; of which the one appeares
But like a little Mount of small degree;
Yet was as great and wide ere many yeares,
As that same other Isle, that greater bredth now beares.

But tract of time, that all things doth decay, viii
And this deuouring Sea, that naught doth spare,
The most part of my land hath washt away,
And throwne it vp vnto my brothers share:
So his encreased, but mine did empaire.
Before which time I lou’d, as was my lot,
That further mayd, hight _Philtra_ the faire,
With whom a goodly doure I should haue got,
And should haue ioyned bene to her in wedlocks knot.

Then did my younger brother _Amidas_ ix
Loue that same other Damzell, _Lucy_ bright,
To whom but little dowre allotted was;
Her vertue was the dowre, that did delight.
What better dowre can to a dame be hight?
But now when _Philtra_ saw my lands decay,
And former liuelod fayle, she left me quight,
And to my brother did ellope streight way:
Who taking her from me, his owne loue left astray.

She seeing then her selfe forsaken so, x
Through dolorous despaire, which she conceyued,
Into the Sea her selfe did headlong throw,
Thinking to haue her griefe by death bereaued.
But see how much her purpose was deceaued.
Whilest thus amidst the billowes beating of her
Twixt life and death, long to and fro she weaued,
She chaunst vnwares to light vppon this coffer,
Which to her in that daunger hope of life did offer.

The wretched mayd that earst desir’d to die, xi
When as the paine of death she tasted had,
And but halfe seene his vgly visnomie,
Gan to repent, that she had beene so mad,
For any death to chaunge life though most bad:
And catching hold of this Sea-beaten chest,
The lucky Pylot of her passage sad,
After long tossing in the seas distrest,
Her weary barke at last vppon mine Isle did rest.

Where I by chaunce then wandring on the shore, xii
Did her espy, and through my good endeuour
From dreadfull mouth of death, which threatned sore
Her to haue swallow’d vp, did helpe to saue her.
She then in recompence of that great fauour,
Which I on her bestowed, bestowed on me
The portion of that good, which Fortune gaue her,
Together with her selfe in dowry free;
Both goodly portions, but of both the better she.

Yet in this coffer, which she with her brought, xiii
Great threasure sithence we did finde contained;
Which as our owne we tooke, and so it thought.
But this same other Damzell since hath fained,
That to her selfe that threasure appertained;
And that she did transport the same by sea,
To bring it to her husband new ordained,
But suffred cruell shipwracke by the way.
But whether it be so or no, I can not say.

But whether it indeede be so or no, xiv
This doe I say, that what so good or ill
Or God or Fortune vnto me did throw,
Not wronging any other by my will,
I hold mine owne, and so will hold it still.
And though my land he first did winne away,
And then my loue (though now it little skill,)
Yet my good lucke he shall not likewise pray;
But I will it defend, whilst euer that I may.

So hauing sayd, the younger did ensew; xv
Full true it is, what so about our land
My brother here declared hath to you:
But not for it this ods twixt vs doth stand,
But for this threasure throwne vppon his strand;
Which well I proue, as shall appeare by triall,
To be this maides, with whom I fastned hand,
Known by good markes, and perfect good espiall,
Therefore it ought be rendred her without deniall.

When they thus ended had, the Knight began; xvi
Certes your strife were easie to accord,
Would ye remit it to some righteous man.
Vnto your selfe, said they, we giue our word,
To bide what iudgement ye shall vs afford.
Then for assuraunce to my doome to stand,
Vnder my foote let each lay downe his sword,
And then you shall my sentence vnderstand.
So each of them layd downe his sword out of his hand.

Then _Artegall_ thus to the younger sayd; xvii
Now tell me _Amidas_, if that ye may,
Your brothers land the which the sea hath layd
Vnto your part, and pluckt from his away,
By what good right doe you withhold this day?
What other right (quoth he) should you esteeme,
But that the sea it to my share did lay?
Your right is good (sayd he) and so I deeme,
That what the sea vnto you sent, your own should seeme.

Then turning to the elder thus he sayd; xviii
Now _Bracidas_ let this likewise be showne.
Your brothers threasure, which from him is strayd,
Being the dowry of his wife well knowne,
By what right doe you claime to be your owne?
What other right (quoth he) should you esteeme,
But that the sea hath it vnto me throwne?
Your right is good (sayd he) and so I deeme,
That what the sea vnto you sent, your own should seeme.

For equall right in equall things doth stand, xix
For what the mighty Sea hath once possest,
And plucked quite from all possessors hand,
Whether by rage of waues, that neuer rest,
Or else by wracke, that wretches hath distrest,
He may dispose by his imperiall might,
As thing at randon left, to whom he list.
So _Amidas_, the land was yours first hight,
And so the threasure yours is _Bracidas_ by right.

When he his sentence thus pronounced had, xx
Both _Amidas_ and _Philtra_ were displeased:
But _Bracidas_ and _Lucy_ were right glad,
And on the threasure by that iudgement seased.
So was their discord by this doome appeased,
And each one had his right. Then _Artegall_
When as their sharpe contention he had ceased,
Departed on his way, as did befall,
To follow his old quest, the which him forth did call.

So as he trauelled vppon the way, xxi
He chaunst to come, where happily he spide
A rout of many people farre away;
To whom his course he hastily applide,
To weete the cause of their assemblaunce wide.
To whom when he approched neare in sight,
(An vncouth sight) he plainely then descride
To be a troupe of women warlike dight,
With weapons in their hands, as ready for to fight.

And in the midst of them he saw a Knight, xxii
With both his hands behinde him pinnoed hard,
And round about his necke an halter tight,
As ready for the gallow tree prepard:
His face was couered, and his head was bar’d,
That who he was, vneath was to descry;
And with full heauy heart with them he far’d,
Grieu’d to the soule, and groning inwardly,
That he of womens hands so base a death should dy.

But they like tyrants, mercilesse the more, xxiii
Reioyced at his miserable case,
And him reuiled, and reproched sore
With bitter taunts, and termes of vile disgrace.
Now when as _Artegall_ arriu’d in place,
Did aske, what cause brought that man to decay,
They round about him gan to swarme apace,
Meaning on him their cruell hands to lay,
And to haue wrought vnwares some villanous assay.

But he was soone aware of their ill minde, xxiv
And drawing backe deceiued their intent;
Yet though him selfe did shame on womankinde
His mighty hand to shend, he _Talus_ sent
To wrecke on them their follies hardyment:
Who with few sowces of his yron flale,
Dispersed all their troupe incontinent,
And sent them home to tell a piteous tale,
Of their vaine prowesse, turned to their proper bale.

But that same wretched man, ordaynd to die, xxv
They left behind them, glad to be so quit:
Him _Talus_ tooke out of perplexitie,
And horrour of fowle death for Knight vnfit,
Who more then losse of life ydreaded it;
And him restoring vnto liuing light,
So brought vnto his Lord, where he did sit,
Beholding all that womanish weake fight;
Whom soone as he beheld, he knew, and thus behight.

Sir _Terpine_[277], haplesse man, what make you here? xxvi
Or haue you lost your selfe, and your discretion,
That euer in this wretched case ye were?
Or haue ye yeelded you to proude oppression
Of womens powre, that boast of mens subiection?
Or else what other deadly dismall day
Is falne on you, by heauens hard direction,
That ye were runne so fondly far astray,
As for to lead your selfe vnto your owne decay?

Much was the man confounded in his mind, xxvii
Partly with shame, and partly with dismay,
That all astonisht he him selfe did find,
And little had for his excuse to say,
But onely thus; Most haplesse well ye may
Me iustly terme, that to this shame am brought,
And made the scorne of Knighthod[278] this same day.
But who can scape, what his owne fate hath wrought?
The worke of heauens will surpasseth humaine thought.

Right true: but faulty men vse oftentimes xxviii
To attribute their folly vnto fate,
And lay on heauen the guilt of their owne crimes.
But tell, Sir _Terpin_, ne let you amate
Your misery, how fell ye in this state.
Then sith ye needs (quoth he) will know my shame,
And all the ill, which chaunst to me of late,
I shortly will to you rehearse the same,
In hope ye will not turne misfortune to my blame.

Being desirous (as all Knights are woont[279]) xxix
Through hard aduentures deedes of armes to try,
And after fame and honour for to hunt,
I heard report that farre abrode did fly,
That a proud Amazon did late defy
All the braue Knights, that hold of Maidenhead,
And vnto them wrought all the villany,
That she could forge in her malicious head,
Which some hath put to shame, and many done be dead.

The cause, they say, of this her cruell hate, xxx
Is for the sake of _Bellodant_ the bold,
To whom she bore most feruent loue of late,
And wooed him by all the waies she could:
But when she saw at last, that he ne would
For ought or nought be wonne vnto her will,
She turn’d her loue to hatred manifold,
And for his sake vow’d to doe all the ill
Which she could doe to Knights, which now she doth fulfill.

For all those Knights, the which by force or guile xxxi
She doth subdue, she fowly doth entreate.
First she doth them of warlike armes despoile,
And cloth[280] in womens weedes: And then with threat
Doth them compell to worke, to earne their meat,
To spin, to card, to sew, to wash, to wring;
Ne doth she giue them other thing to eat,
But bread and water, or like feeble thing,
Them to disable from reuenge aduenturing.

But if through stout disdaine of manly mind, xxxii
Any her proud obseruaunce will withstand,
Vppon that gibbet, which is there behind,
She causeth them be hang’d vp out of hand;
In which condition I right now did stand.
For being ouercome by her in fight,
And put to that base seruice of her band,
I rather chose to die in liues despight,
Then lead that shamefull life, vnworthy of a Knight.

How hight that Amazon (sayd _Artegall_)?[281] xxxiii
And where, and how far hence does she abide?
Her name (quoth he) they _Radigund_ doe call,
A Princesse of great powre, and greater pride,
And Queene of Amazons, in armes well tride,
And sundry battels, which she hath atchieued
With great successe, that her hath glorifide,
And made her famous, more then is belieued;
Ne would I it haue ween’d, had I not late it prieued.

Now sure (said he) and by the faith that I xxxiv
To Maydenhead and noble knighthood owe,
I will not rest, till I her might doe trie,
And venge the shame, that she to Knights doth show.
Therefore Sir _Terpin_ from you lightly throw
This squalid weede, the patterne of dispaire,
And wend with me, that ye may see and know,
How Fortune will your ruin’d name repaire,
And knights of Maidenhead, whose praise she would empaire.

With that, like one that hopelesse was repryu’d[282] xxxv
From deathes dore, at which he lately lay,
Those yron fetters, wherewith he was gyu’d,
The badges of reproch, he threw away,
And nimbly did him dight to guide the way
Vnto the dwelling of that Amazone.
Which was from thence not past a mile or tway:
A goodly citty and a mighty one,
The which of her owne name she called _Radegone_.

Where they arriuing, by the watchmen[283] were xxxvi
Descried streight, who all the citty warned,
How that three warlike persons did appeare,
Of which the one him seem’d a Knight all armed,
And th’other two well likely to haue harmed.
Eftsoones the people all to harnesse ran,
And like a sort of Bees in clusters swarmed:
Ere long their Queene her selfe, halfe[284] like a man
Came forth into the rout, and them t’array began.

And now the Knights being arriued neare[285], xxxvii
Did beat vppon the gates to enter in,
And at the Porter, skorning them so few[286],
Threw many threats, if they the towne did win,
To teare his flesh in peeces for his sin.
Which when as _Radigund_ there comming heard,
Her heart for rage did grate, and teeth did grin:
She bad that streight the gates should be vnbard,
And to them way to make, with weapons well prepard.

Soone as the gates were open to them set, xxxviii
They pressed forward, entraunce to haue made.
But in the middle way they were ymet
With a sharpe showre of arrowes, which them staid,
And better bad aduise, ere they assaid
Vnknowen perill of bold womens pride.
Then all that rout vppon them rudely laid,
And heaped strokes so fast on euery side,
And arrowes haild so thicke, that they could not abide.

But _Radigund_ her selfe, when she espide xxxix
Sir _Terpin_, from her direfull doome acquit,
So cruell doale[287] amongst her maides diuide[288],
T’auenge that shame, they did on him commit,
All sodainely enflam’d with furious fit,
Like a fell Lionesse at him she flew,
And on his head-peece him so fiercely smit,
That to the ground him quite she ouerthrew,
Dismayd so with the stroke, that he no colours knew.

Soone as she saw him on the ground to grouell, xl
She lightly to him leapt, and in his necke
Her proud foote setting, at his head did leuell,
Weening at once her wrath on him to wreake,
And his contempt, that did her iudg’ment breake.
As when a Beare hath seiz’d her cruell clawes
Vppon the carkasse of some beast too weake,
Proudly stands ouer, and a while doth pause,
To heare the piteous beast pleading her plaintiffe cause.

Whom when as _Artegall_ in that distresse xli
By chaunce beheld, he left the bloudy slaughter,
In which he swam, and ranne to his redresse.
There her assayling fiercely fresh, he raught her
Such an huge stroke, that it of sence distraught her:
And had she not it warded warily,
It had depriu’d her mother of a daughter.
Nathlesse for all the powre she did apply,
It made her stagger oft, and stare with ghastly eye.

Like to an Eagle in his kingly pride, xlii
Soring through his wide Empire of the aire,
To weather his brode sailes, by chaunce hath spide
A Goshauke, which hath seized for her share
Vppon some fowle, that should her feast prepare;
With dreadfull force he flies at her byliue,
That with his souce, which none enduren dare,
Her from the quarrey he away doth driue,
And from her griping pounce the greedy prey doth riue.

But soone as she her sence recouer’d had, xliii
She fiercely towards him her selfe gan dight,
Through vengeful wrath and sdeignfull pride half mad:
For neuer had she suffred such despight.
But ere she could ioyne hand with him to fight,
Her warlike maides about her flockt so fast,
That they disparted them, maugre their might,
And with their troupes did far a sunder cast:
But mongst the rest the fight did vntill euening last.

And euery while that mighty yron man, xliv
With his strange weapon, neuer wont in warre,
Them sorely vext, and courst, and ouerran,
And broke their bowes, and did their shooting marre,
That none of all the many once did darre
Him to assault, nor once approach him nie,
But like a sort of sheepe dispersed farre
For dread of their deuouring enemie,
Through all the fields and vallies did before him flie.

But when as daies faire shinie-beame, yclowded xlv
With fearefull shadowes of deformed night,
Warn’d man and beast in quiet rest be shrowded,
Bold _Radigund_ with sound of trumpe on hight,
Causd all her people to surcease from fight,
And gathering them vnto her citties gate,
Made them all enter in before her sight,
And all the wounded, and the weake in state,
To be conuayed in, ere she would once retrate.

When thus the field was voided all away, xlvi
And all things quieted, the Elfin Knight
Weary of toile and trauell of that day,
Causd his pauilion to be richly pight
Before the city gate, in open sight;
Where he him selfe did rest in safety,
Together with sir _Terpin_ all that night:
But _Talus_ vsde in times of ieopardy
To keepe a nightly watch, for dread of treachery.

But _Radigund_ full of heart-gnawing griefe, xlvii
For the rebuke, which she sustain’d that day,
Could take no rest, ne would receiue reliefe,
But tossed in her troublous minde, what way
She mote reuenge that blot, which on her lay.
There she resolu’d her selfe in single fight
To try her Fortune, and his force assay,
Rather then see her people spoiled quight,
As she had seene that day a disauenterous sight.

She called forth to her a trusty mayd, xlviii
Whom she thought fittest for that businesse,
Her name was _Clarin_[289], and thus to her sayd;
Goe damzell quickly, doe thy selfe addresse,
To doe the message, which I shall expresse.
Goe thou vnto that stranger Faery Knight,
Who yesterday[290] droue vs to such distresse,
Tell, that to morrow I with him wil fight,
And try in equall field, whether hath greater might.

But these conditions doe to him propound, xlix
That if I vanquishe him, he shall obay
My law, and euer to my lore be bound,
And so will I, if me he vanquish may;
What euer he shall like to doe or say:
Goe streight, and take with thee, to witnesse it,
Sixe of thy fellowes of the best array,
And beare with you both wine and iuncates fit,
And bid him eate, henceforth he oft shall hungry sit.

The Damzell streight obayd, and putting all l
In readinesse, forth to the Towne-gate went,
Where sounding loud a Trumpet from the wall,
Vnto those warlike Knights she warning sent.
Then _Talus_ forth issuing from the tent,
Vnto the wall his way did fearelesse take,
To weeten what that trumpets sounding ment:
Where that same Damzell lowdly him bespake,
And shew’d, that with his Lord she would emparlaunce[291] make.

So he them streight conducted to his Lord, li
Who, as he could, them goodly well did greete,
Till they had told their message word by word:
Which he accepting well, as he could weete,
Them fairely entertaynd with curt’sies meete,
And gaue them gifts and things of deare delight.
So backe againe they homeward turnd their feete.
But _Artegall_ him selfe to rest did dight,
That he mote fresher be against the next daies fight.

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._

_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.