Edmund Spenser

THE FAERIE QUEENE

THE FIFTH

BOOKE OF THE

FAERIE QVEENE.

Contayning

The Legende of Artegall

or

of Ivstice.

S O oft as I with state of present time,

The image of the antique world compare,

When as mans age was in his freshest prime,

And the first blossome of faire vertue bare,

Such oddes I finde twixt those, and these which are,

As that, through long continuance of his course,

Me seemes the world is runne quite out of square,

From the first point of his appointed sourse,

And being once amisse growes daily wourse and wourse.

For from the golden age, that first was named,

It's now at earst become a stonie one;

And men themselues, the which at first were framed

Of earthly mould, and form'd of flesh and bone,

Are now transformed into hardest stone:

Such as behind their backs (so backward bred)

Were throwne by Pyrrha and Deucalione:

And if then those may any worse be red,

They into that ere long will be degendered.

Let none then blame me, if in discipline

Of vertue and of ciuill vses lore,

I doe not forme them to the common line

Of present dayes, which are corrupted sore,

But to the antique vse, which was of yore,

When good was onely for it selfe desyred,

And all men sought their owne, and none no more;

When Iustice was not for most meed outhyred,

But simple Truth did rayne, and was of all admyred.

For that which all men then did vertue call,

Is now cald vice; and that which vice was hight,

Is now hight vertue, and so vs'd of all:

Right now is wrong, and wrong that was is right,

As all things else in time are chaunged quight.

Ne wonder; for the heauens reuolution

Is wandred farre from where it first was pight,

And so doe make contrarie constitution

Of all this lower world, toward his dissolution.

For who so list into the heauens looke,

And search the courses of the rowling spheares,

Shall find that from the point, where they first tooke

Their setting forth, in these few thousand yeares

They all are wandred much; that plaine appeares.

For that same golden fleecy Ram, which bore

Phrixus and Helle from their stepdames feares,

Hath now forgot, where he was plast of yore,

And shouldred hath the Bull, which fayre Europa bore.

And eke the Bull hath with his bow-bent horne

So hardly butted those two twinnes of Ioue,

That they haue crusht the Crab, and quite him borne

Into the great Nemoean lions groue.

So now all range, and doe at randon roue

Out of their proper places farre away,

And all this world with them amisse doe moue,

And all his creatures from their course astray,

Till they arriue at their last ruinous decay.

Ne is that same great glorious lampe of light,

That doth enlumine all these lesser fyres,

In better case, ne keepes his course more right,

But is miscaried with the other Spheres.

For since the terme of fourteene hundred fyeres,

That learned Ptolomaee his hight did take,

He is declyned from that marke of theirs,

Nigh thirtie minutes to the Southerne lake;

That makes me feare in time he will vs quite forsake.

And if to those Ægyptian wisards old,

Which in Star-read were wont haue best insight,

Faith may be giuen, it is by them told,

That since the time they first tooke the Sunnes hight,

Foure times his place he shifted hath in sight,

And twice hath risen, where he now doth West,

And wested twice, where he ought rise aright.

But most is Mars amisse of all the rest,

And next to him old Saturne, that was wont be best.

For during Saturnes ancient raigne it's sayd,

That all the world with goodnesse did abound:

All loued vertue, no man was affrayd

Of force, ne fraud in wight was to be found:

No warre was knowne, no dreadfull trompets sound,

Peace vniuersall rayn'd mongst men and beasts,

And all things freely grew out of the ground:

Iustice sate high ador'd with solemne feasts,

And to all people did diuide her dred beheasts.

Most sacred vertue she of all the rest,

Resembling God in his imperiall might;

Whose soueraine powre is herein most exprest,

That both to good and bad he dealeth right,

And all his workes with Iustice hath bedight.

That powre he also doth to Princes lend,

And makes them like himselfe in glorious sight,

To sit in his owne seate, his cause to end,

And rule his people right, as he doth recommend.

Dread Souerayne Goddesse, that doest highest sit

In seate of iudgement, in th'Almighties stead,

And with magnificke might and wondrous wit

Doest to thy people righteous doome aread,

That furthest Nations filles with awfull dread,

Pardon the boldnesse of thy basest thrall,

That dare discourse of so diuine a read,

As thy great iustice praysed ouer all:

The instrument whereof loe here thy Artegall.

Canto I

Artegall trayn'd in Iustice lore

Irenaes quest pursewed,

He doeth auenge on Sanglier

His Ladies bloud embrewed.

T Hough vertue then were held in highest price,

In those old times, of which I doe intreat,

Yet then likewise the wicked seede of vice

Began to spring which shortly grew full great,

And with their boughes the gentle plants did beat.

But euermore some of the vertuous race

Rose vp, inspired with heroicke heat,

That cropt the branches of the sient base,

And with strong hand their fruitfull rancknes did deface.

Such first was Bacchus, that with furious might

All th'East before vntam'd did ouerronne,

And wrong repressed, and establisht right,

Which lawlesse men had formerly fordonne.

There Iustice first her princely rule begonne.

Next Hercules his like ensample shewed,

Who all the West with equall conquest wonne,

And monstrous tyrants with his club subdewed;

The club of Iustice dread, with kingly powre endewed.

And such was he, of whom I haue to tell,

The Champion of true Iustice Artegall.

Whom (as ye lately mote remember well)

An hard aduenture, which did then befall,

Into redoubted perill forth did call;

That was to succour a distressed Dame,

Whom a strong tyrant did vniustly thrall,

And from the heritage, which she did clame,

Did with strong hand withhold: Grantorto was his name.

Wherefore the Lady, which Eirena hight,

Did to the Faery Queene her way addresse,

To whom complayning her afflicted plight,

She her besought of gratious redresse.

That soueraine Queene, that mightie Emperesse,

Whose glorie is to aide all suppliants pore,

And of weake Princes to be Patronesse,

Chose Artegall to right her to restore;

For that to her he seem'd best skild in righteous lore.

For Artegall in iustice was vpbrought

Euen from the cradle of his infancie,

And all the depth of rightfull doome was taught

By faire Astræa, with great industrie,

Whilest here on earth she liued mortallie.

For till the world from his perfection fell

Into all filth and foule iniquitie,

Astræa here mongst earthly men did dwell,

And in the rules of iustice them instructed well.

Whiles through the world she walked in this sort,

Vpon a day she found this gentle childe,

Amongst his peres playing his childish sport:

Whom seeing fit, and with no crime defilde,

She did allure with gifts and speaches milde,

To wend with her. So thence him farre she brought

Into a caue from companie exilde,

In which she noursled him, till yeares he raught,

And all the discipline of iustice there him taught.

There she him taught to weigh both right and wrong

In equall ballance with due recompence,

And equitie to measure out along,

According to the line of conscience,

When so it needs with rigour to dispence.

Of all the which, for want there of mankind,

She caused him to make experience

Vpon wyld beasts, which she in woods did find,

With wrongfull powre oppressing others of their kind.

Thus she him trayned, and thus she him taught,

In all the skill of deeming wrong and right,

Vntill the ripenesse of mans yeares he raught;

That euen wilde beasts did feare his awfull sight,

And men admyr'd his ouerruling might;

Ne any liu'd on ground, that durst withstand

His dreadfull heast, much lesse him match in fight,

Or bide the horror of his wreakfull hand,

When so he list in wrath lift vp his steely brand.

Which steely brand, to make him dreaded more,

She gaue vnto him, gotten by her slight

And earnest search, where it was kept in store

In Ioues eternall house, vnwist of wight,

Since he himselfe it vs'd in that great fight

Against the Titans, that whylome rebelled

Gainst highest heauen; Chrysaor it was hight;

Chrysaor that all other swords excelled,

Well prou'd in that same day, when Ioue those Gyants quelled.

For of most perfect metall it was made,

Tempred with Adamant amongst the same,

And garnisht all with gold vpon the blade

In goodly wise, whereof it tooke his name,

And was of no lesse vertue, then of fame.

For there no substance was so firme and hard,

But it would pierce or cleaue, where so it came;

Ne any armour could his dint out ward,

But wheresoeuer it did light, it throughly shard.

Now when the world with sinne gan to abound,

Astraea loathing lenger here to space

Mongst wicked men, in whom no truth she found,

Return'd to heauen, whence she deriu'd her race;

Where she hath now an euerlasting place,

Mongst those twelue signes, which nightly we doe see

The heauens bright-shining baudricke to enchace;

And is the Virgin, sixt in her degree,

And next her selfe her righteous ballance hanging bee.

But when she parted hence, she left her groome

An yron man, which did on her attend

Alwayes, to execute her stedfast doome,

And willed him with Artegall to wend,

And doe what euer thing he did intend.

His name was Talus, made of yron mould,

Immoueable, resistlesse, without end.

Who in his hand an yron flale did hould,

With which he thresht out falshood, and did truth vnfould.

He now went with him in this new inquest,

Him for to aide, if aide he chaunst to neede,

Against that cruell Tyrant, which opprest

The faire Irena with his foule misdeede,

And kept the crowne in which she should succeed.

And now together on their way they bin,

When as they saw a Squire in squallid weed,

Lamenting sore his sorowfull sad tyne,

With many bitter teares shed from his blubbred eyne.

To whom as they approched, they espide

A sorie sight, as euer seene with eye;

An headlesse Ladie lying him beside,

In her owne blood all wallow'd wofully,

That her gay clothes did in discolour die.

Much was he moued at that ruefull sight;

And flam'd with zeale of vengeance inwardly,

He askt, who had that Dame so fouly dight;

Or whether his owne hand, or whether other wight?

Ah woe is me, and well away (quoth hee)

Bursting forth teares, like springs out of a banke,

That euer I this dismall day did see:

Full farre was I from thinking such a pranke;

Yet litle losse it were, and mickle thanke,

If I should graunt that I haue doen the same,

That I mote drinke the cup, whereof she dranke:

But that I should die guiltie of the blame,

The which another did, who now is fled with shame.

Who was it then (sayd Artegall) that wrought?

And why? doe it declare vnto me trew.

A knight (said he) if knight he may be thought,

That did his hand in Ladies bloud embrew,

And for no cause, but as I shall you shew.

This day as I in solace sate hereby

With a fayre loue, whose losse I now do rew,

There came this knight, hauing in companie

This lucklesse Ladie, which now here doth headlesse lie.

He, whether mine seem'd fayrer in his eye,

Or that he wexed weary of his owne,

Would change with me; but I did it denye;

So did the Ladies both, as may be knowne,

But he, whose spirit was with pride vpblowne,

Would not so rest contented with his right,

But hauing from his courser her downe throwne,

Fro me reft mine away by lawlesse might,

And on his steed her set, to beare her out of sight.

Which when his Ladie saw, she follow'd fast,

And on him catching hold, gan loud to crie

Not so to leaue her, nor away to cast,

But rather of his hand besought to die.

With that his sword he drew all wrathfully,

And at one stroke cropt off her head with scorne,

In that same place, whereas it now doth lie.

So he my loue away with him hath borne,

And left me here, both his & mine owne loue to morne.

Aread (sayd he) which way then did he make?

And by what markes may he be knowne againe?

To hope (quoth he) him soone to ouertake,

That hence so long departed, is but vaine:

But yet he pricked ouer yonder plaine,

And as I marked, bore vpon his shield,

By which it's easie him to know againe,

A broken sword within a bloodie field;

Expressing well his nature, which the same did wield.

No sooner sayd, but streight he after sent

His yron page, who him pursew'd so light,

As that it seem'd aboue the ground he went:

For he was swift as swallow in her flight,

And strong as Lyon in his Lordly might.

It was not long, before he ouertooke

Sir Sanglier; (so cleeped was that Knight)

Whom at the first he ghessed by his looke,

And by the other markes, which of his shield he tooke.

He bad him stay, and backe with him retire;

Who full of scorne to be commaunded so,

The Lady to alight did eft require,

Whilest he reformed that vnciuill fo:

And streight at him with all his force did go.

Who mou'd no more therewith, then when a rocke

Is lightly stricken with some stones throw;

But tlo him leaping, len him such a knocke,

That on the ground he layd him like a sencelesse blocke.

But ere he could him selfe recure againe,

Him in his iron paw he seized had;

That when he wak't out of his warelesse paine,

He found him selfe, vnwist, so ill bestad,

That lim he could not wag. Thence he him lad,

Bound like a beast appointed to the stall:

The sight whereof the Lady sore adrad,

And fain'd to fly for feare of being thrall;

But he her quickly stayd, and forst to wend withall.

When to the place they came, where Artegall

By that same carefull Squire did then abide,

He gently gan him to demaund of all,

That did betwixt him and that Squire betide.

Who with sterne countenance and indignant pride

Did aunswere, that of all he guiltlesse stood,

And his accuser thereuppon defide:

For neither he did shed that Ladies bloud,

Nor tooke away his loue, but his owne proper good.

Well did the Squire perceiue him selfe too weake,

To aunswere his defiaunce in the field,

And rather chose his challenge off to breake,

Then to approue his right with speare and shield.

And rather guilty chose him selfe to yield.

But Artegall by signes perceiuing plaine,

That he it was not, which that Lady kild,

But that strange Knight, the fairer loue to gaine,

Did cast about by sleight the truth thereout to straine.

And sayd, Now sure this doubtfull causes right

Can hardly but by Sacrament be tride,

Or else by ordele, or by blooddy fight;

That ill perhaps mote fall to either side.

But if ye please, that I your cause decide,

Perhaps I may all further quarrell end,

So ye will sweare my iudgement to abide.

Thereto they both did franckly condiscend,

And to his doome with listfull eares did both attend.

Sith then (sayd he) ye both the dead deny,

And both the liuing Lady claime your right,

Let both the dead and liuing equally

Deuided be betwixt you here in sight,

And each of either take his share aright.

But looke who does dissent from this my read,

He for a twelue moneths day shall in despight

Beare for his penaunce that same Ladies head;

To witnesse to the world, that she by him is dead.

Well pleased with that doome was Sangliere,

And offred streight the Lady to be slaine.

But that same Squire, to whom she was more dere,

When as he saw she should be cut in twaine,

Did yield, she rather should with him remaine

Aliue, then to him selfe be shared dead;

And rather then his loue should suffer paine,

He chose with shame to beare that Ladies head

True loue despiseth shame, when life is cald in dread.

Whom when so willing Artegall perceaued;

Not so thou Squire, (he sayd) but thine I deeme

The liuing Lady, which from thee he reaued:

For worthy thou of her doest rightly seeme.

And you, Sir Knight, that loue so light esteeme,

As that ye would for little leaue the same,

Take here your owne, that doth you best beseeme,

And with it beare the burden of defame;

Your owne dead Ladies head, to tell abrode your shame.

But Sangliere disdained much his doome,

And sternly gan repine at his beheast;

Ne would for ought obay, as did become,

To beare that Ladies head before his breast.

Vntill that Talus had his pride represt,

And forced him, maulgre, it vp to reare.

Who when he saw it bootelesse to resist,

He tooke it vp, and thence with him did beare,

As rated Spaniell takes his burden vp for feare.

Much did that Squire Sir Artegall adore,

For his great iustice, held in high regard;

And as his Squire him offred euermore

To serue, for want of other meete reward,

And wend with him on his aduenture hard.

But he thereto would by no meanes consent;

But leauing him forth on his iourney far'd:

Ne wight with him but onely Talus went.

They two enough t'encounter an whole Regiment.

Canto II

Artegall heares of Florimell,

Does with the Pagan fight:

Him slaies, drownes Lady Munera

Does race her castle quight.

N Ought is more honorable to a knight,

Ne better doth beseeme braue cheualry,

Then to defend the feeble in their right,

And wrong redresse in such as wend awry.

Whilome those great Heroes got thereby

Their greatest glory, for their rightfull deedes,

And place deserued with the Gods on hy.

Herein the noblesse of this knight exceedes,

Who now to perils great for iustice sake proceedes.

To which as he now was vppon the way,

He chaunst to meet a Dwarfe in hasty course;

Whom he requir'd his forward hast to stay,

Till he of tidings mote with him discourse.

Loth was the Dwarfe, yet did he stay perforse,

And gan of sundry newes his store to tell,

As to his memory they had recourse:

But chiefely of the fairest Florimell,

How she was found againe, and spousde to Marinell.

For this was Dony, Florimels owne Dwarfe,

Whom hauing lost (as ye haue heard whyleare)

And finding in the way the scattred scarfe,

The fortune of her life long time did feare.

But of her health when Artegall did heare,

And safe returne, he was full inly glad,

And askt him where, and when her bridale cheare

Should be solemniz'd: for if time he had,

He would be there, and honor to her spousall ad.

Within three daies (quoth hee) as I do here,

It will be at the Castle of the strond;

What time if naught me let, I will be there

To doe her seruice, so as I am bond.

But in my way a little here beyond

A cursed cruell Sarazin doth wonne,

That keepes a Bridges passage by strong hond,

And many errant Knights hath there fordonne;

That makes all men for feare that passage for to shonne.

What mister wight (quoth he) and how far hence

Is he, that doth to trauellers such harmes?

He is (said he) a man of great defence;

Expert in battell and in deedes of armes;

And more emboldned by the wicked charmes,

With which his daughter doth him still support;

Hauing great Lordships got and goodly farmes,

Through strong oppression of his powre extort;

By which he stil them holds, & keepes with strong effort.

And dayly he his wrongs encreaseth more,

For neuer wight he lets to passe that way,

Ouer his Bridge, albee he rich or poore,

But he him makes his passage-penny pay:

Else he doth hold him backe or beat away.

Thereto he hath a groome of euill guize,

Whose scalp is bare, that bondage doth bewray,

Which pols and pils the poore in piteous wize;

But he him selfe vppon th rich doth tyrannize.

His name is hight Pollente, rightly so

For that he is so puissant and strong,

That with his powre he all doth ouergo,

And makes them subiect to his mighty wrong;

And some by sleight he eke doth vnderfong.

For on a Bridge he custometh to fight,

Which is but narrow, but exceeding long;

And in the same are many trap fals pight,

Through which the rider downe doth fall through ouersight.

And vnderneath the same a riuer flowes,

That is both swift and dangerous deepe withall;

Into the which whomso he ouerthrowes,

All destitute of helpe doth headlong fall,

But he him selfe, through practise vsuall,

Leapes forth into the floud, and there assaies

His foe confused through his sodaine fall,

That horse and man he equally dismaies,

And either both them drownes, or trayterously slaies.

Then doth he take the spoile of them at will,

And to his daughter brings, that dwels thereby:

Who all that comes doth take, and therewith fill

The coffers of her wicked threasury;

Which she with wrongs hath heaped vp so hy,

That many Princes she in wealth exceedes,

And purchast all the countrey lying ny

With the reuenue of her plenteous meedes:

Her name is Munera, agreeing with her deedes.

Thereto she is full faire, and rich attired,

With golden hands and siluer feete beside,

That many Lords haue her to wife desired:

But she them all despiseth for great pride.

Now by my life (sayd he) and God to guide,

None other way will I this day betake,

But by that Bridge, whereas he doth abide:

Therefore me thither lead. No more he spake,

But thitherward forthright his ready way did make.

Vnto the place he came within a while,

Where on the Bridge he ready armed saw

The Sarazin, awayting for some spoile.

Who as they to the passage gan to draw,

A villaine to them came with scull all raw,

That passage money did of them require,

According to the custome of their law.

To whom he aunswerd wroth, Loe there thy hire;

And with that word him strooke, that streight he did expire.

Which when the Pagan saw, he wexed wroth,

And streight him selfe vnto the fight addrest,

Ne was Sir Artegall behinde: so both

Together ran with ready speares in rest.

Right in the midst, whereas they brest to brest

Should meete, a trap was letten downe to fall

Into the floud: streight leapt the Carle vnblest,

Well weening that his foe was falne withall:

But he was well aware, and leapt before his fall.

There being both together in the floud,

They each at other tyrannously flew;

Ne ought the water cooled their whot bloud,

But rather in them kindled choler new.

But there the Paynim, who that vse well knew

To fight in water, great aduantage had,

That oftentimes him nigh he ouerthrew:

And eke the courser, whereuppon he rad,

Could swim like to a fish, whiles he his backe bestrad.

Which oddes when as Sir Artegall espide,

He saw no way, but close with him in hast;

And to him driuing strongly downe the tide,

Vppon his iron coller griped fast,

That with the straint his wesand nigh he brast.

There they together stroue and struggled long,

Either the other from his steede to cast;

Ne euer Artegall his griple strong

For any thing wold slacke, but still vppon him hong.

As when a Dolphin and a Sele are met,

In the wide champian of the Ocean plaine:

With cruell chaufe their courages they whet,

The maysterdome of each by force to gaine,

And dreadfull battaile twixt them do darraine:

They snuf, they snort, they bounce, they rage, they rore,

That all the sea disturbed with their traine,

Doth frie with fome aboue the surges hore.

Such was betwixt these two the troublesome vprore.

So Artegall at length him forst forsake

His horses backe, for dread of being drownd,

And to his handy swimming him betake.

Eftsoones him selfe he from his hold vnbownd,

And then no ods at all in him he fownd:

For Artegall in swimming skilfull was,

And durst the depth of any water sownd.

So ought each Knight, that vse of perill has,

In swimming be expert through waters force to pas.

Then very doubtfull was the warres euent,

Vncertaine whether had the better side:

For both were skild in that experiment,

And both in armes well traind and throughly tride.

But Artegall was better breath'd beside,

And towards th'end, grew greater in his might,

That his faint foe no longer could abide

His puissance, ne beare him selfe vpright,

But from the water to the land betooke his flight.

But Artegall pursewd him still so neare,

With bright Chrysaor in his cruell hand,

That as his head he gan a litle reare

Aboue the brincke, to tread vpon the land,

He smote it off, that tumbling on the strand

It bit the earth for very fell despight,

And gnashed with his teeth, as if he band

High God, whose goodnesse he despaired quight,

Or curst the hand, which did that vengeance on him dight.

His corps was carried downe along the Lee,

Whose waters with his filthy bloud it stayned:

But his blasphemous head, that all might see,

He pitcht vpon a pole on high ordayned;

Where many years it afterwards remayned,

To be a mirrour to all mighty men,

In whose right hands great power is contayned,

That none of them the feeble ouerren,

But alwaies doe their powre within iust compasse pen.

That done, vnto the Castle he did wend,

In which the Paynims daughter did abide,

Guarded of many which did her defend:

Of whom he entrance sought, but was denide,

And with reprochfull blasphemy defide,

Beaten with stones downe from the battilment,

That he was forced to withdraw aside;

And bad his seruant Talus to inuent

Which way he enter might, without endangerment.

Eftsoones his Page drew to the Castle gate,

And with his iron flale at it let flie,

That all the warders it did sore amate,

The which erewhile spake so reprochfully,

And made them stoupe, that looked earst so hie.

Yet still he bet, and bounst vppon the dore,

And thundred strokes thereon so hideouslie,

That all the peece he shaked from the flore,

And filled all the house with feare and great vprore.

With noise whereof the Lady forth appeared

Vppon the Castle wall, and when she saw

The daungerous state, in which she stood, she feared

The sad effect of her neare ouerthrow;

And gan entreat that iron man below,

To cease his outrage, and him faire besought,

Sith neither force of stones which they did throw,

Nor powr of charms, which she against him wrought,

Might otherwise preuaile, or make him cease for ought.

But when as yet she saw him to proceede,

Vnmou'd with praiers, or with piteous thought,

She ment him to corrupt with goodly meede;

And causde great sackes with endlesse riches fraught,

Vnto the battilment to be vpbrought,

And powred forth ouer the Castle wall,

That she might win some time, though dearly bought

Whilest he to gathering of the gold did fall.

But he was nothing mou'd, nor tempted therewithall.

But still continu'd his assault the more,

And layd on load with his huge yron flaile,

That at the length he has yrent the dore,

And made way for his maister to assaile.

Who being entred, nought did then auaile

For wight, against his powre them selues to reare:

Each one did flie; their hearts began to faile,

And hid them selues in corners here and there;

And eke their dame halfe dead did hide her self for feare.

Long they her sought, yet no where could they finde her,

That sure they ween'd she was escapt away:

But Talus, that could like a limehound winde her,

And all things secrete wisely could bewray,

At length found out, whereas she hidden lay

Vnder an heape of gold. Thence he her drew

By the faire lockes, and fowly did array,

Withouten pitty of her goodly hew,

That Artegall him selfe her seemelesse plight did rew.

Yet for no pitty would he change the course

Of Iustice, which in Talus hand did lye;

Who rudely hayld her forth without remorse,

Still holding vp her suppliant hands on hye,

And kneeling at his feete submissiuely.

But he her suppliant hands, those hands of gold,

And eke her feete, those feete of siluer trye,

Which sought vnrighteousnesse, and iustice sold,

Chopt off, and nayld on high, that all might them behold.

Her selfe then tooke he by the sclender wast,

In vaine loud crying, and into the flood

Ouer the Castle wall adowne her cast,

And there her drowned in the durty mud:

But the streame washt away her guilty blood.

Thereafter all that mucky pelfe he tooke,

The spoile of peoples euill gotten good,

The which her sire had scrap't by hooke and crooke;

And burning all to ashes, powr'd it downe the brooke.

And lastly all that Castle quite he raced,

Euen from the sole of his foundation,

And all the hewen stones thereof defaced,

That there mote be no hope of reparation,

Nor memory thereof to any nation.

All which when Talus throughly had perfourmed,

Sir Artegall vndid the euill fashion,

And wicked customes of that Bridge refourmed.

Which done, vnto his former iourney he retourned.

In which they measur'd mickle weary way,

Till that at length nigh to the sea they drew;

By which as they did trauell on a day,

They saw before them, far as they could vew,

Full many people gathered in a crew:

Whose great assembly they did much admire,

For neuer there the like resort they knew.

So towardes them they coasted, to enquire

What thing so many nations met, did there desire.

There they beheld a mighty Gyant stand

Vpon a rocke, and holding forth on hie

An huge great paire of ballance in his hand,

With which he boasted in his surquedrie,

That all the world he would weigh equallie,

If ought he had the same to counterpoys.

For want whereof he weighed vanity,

And fild his ballaunce full of idle toys:

Yet was admired much of fooles, women, and boys.

He sayd that he would all the earth vptake,

And all the sea, deuided each from either:

So would he of the fire one ballaunce make,

And one of th'ayre, without or wind, or wether:

Then would he ballaunce heauen and hell together,

And all that did within them all containe;

Of all whose weight, he would not misse a fether.

And looke what surplus did of each remaine,

He would to his owne part restore the same againe.

For why, he sayd they all vnequall were,

And had encroched vppon others share,

Like as the sea (which plaine he shewed there)

Had worne the earth, so did the fire the aire;

So all the rest did others parts empaire.

And so were realmes and nations run awry.

All which he vndertooke for to repaire,

In sort as they were formed aunciently;

And all things would reduce vnto equality.

Therefore the vulgar did about him flocke,

And cluster thicke vnto his leasings vaine,

Like foolish flies about an hony crocke,

In hope by him great benefite to gaine,

And vncontrolled freedome to obtaine.

All which when Artegall did see, and heare,

How he mis-led the simple peoples traine,

In sdeignfull wize he drew vnto him neare,

And thus vnto him spake, without regard or feare;

Thou that presum'st to weigh the world anew,

And all things to an equall to restore,

In stead of right me seemes great wrong dost shew,

And far aboue thy forces pitch to sore.

For ere thou limit what is lesse or more

In euery thing, thou oughtest first to know,

What was the poyse of euery part of yore:

And looke then how much it doth ouerflow,

Or faile thereof, so much is more then iust to trow.

For at the first they all created were

In goodly measure, by their Makers might,

And weighed out in ballaunces so nere,

That not a dram was missing of their right,

The earth was in the middle centre pight,

In which it doth immoueable abide,

Hemd in with waters like a wall in sight;

And they with aire, that not a drop can slide:

Al which the heauens containe, & in their courses guide.

Such heauenly iustice doth among them raine,

That euery one doe know their certaine bound,

In which they doe these many yeares remaine,

And mongst them al no change hath yet beene found.

But if thou now shouldst weigh them new in pound,

We are not sure they would so long remaine:

All change is perillous, and all chaunce vnsound.

Therefore leaue off to weigh them all againe,

Till we may be assur'd they shall their course retaine.

Thou foolishe Elfe (said then the Gyant wroth)

Seest not, how badly all things present bee,

And each estate quite out of order go'th?

The sea it selfe doest thou not plainely see

Encroch vppon the land there vnder thee;

And th'earth it selfe how daily its increast,

By all that dying to it turned be?

Were it not good that wrong were then surceast,

And from the most, that some were giuen to the least?

Therefore I will throw downe these mountaines hie,

And make them leuell with the lowly plaine:

These towring rocks, which reach vnto the skie,

I will thrust downe into the deepest maine,

And as they were, them equalize againe.

Tyrants that make men subiect to their law,

I will suppresse, that they no more may raine;

And Lordings curbe, that commons ouer-aw;

And all the wealth of rich men to the poore will draw.

Of things vnseene how canst thou deeme aright,

Then answered the righteous Artegall,

Sith thou misdeem'st so much of things in sight?

What though the sea with waues continuall

Doe eate the earth, it is no more at all:

Ne is the earth the lesse, or loseth ought,

For whatsoeuer from one place doth fall,

Is with the tide vnto an other brought:

For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought.

Likewise the earth is not augmented more,

By all that dying into it doe fade.

For of the earth they formed were of yore;

How euer gay their blossome or their blade

Doe flourish now, they into dust shall vade.

What wrong then is it, if that when they die,

They turne to that, whereof they first were made?

All in the powre of their great Maker lie:

All creatures must obey the voice of the most hie.

They liue, they die, like as he doth ordaine,

Ne euer any asketh reason why.

The hils doe not the lowly dales disdaine;

The dales doe not the lofty hils enuy.

He maketh Kings to sit in souerainty;

He maketh subiects to their powre obay;

He pulleth downe, he setteth vp on hy;

He giues to this, from that he takes away.

For all we haue is his: what he list doe, he may.

What euer thing is done, by him is donne,

Ne any may his mighty will withstand;

Ne any may his soueraine power shonne,

Ne loose that he hath bound with stedfast band.

In vaine therefore doest thou now take in hand,

To call to count, or weigh his workes anew,

Whose counsels depth thou canst not vnderstand,

Sith of things subiect to thy daily vew

Thou doest not know the causes, nor their courses dew.

For take thy ballaunce, if thou be so wise,

And weigh the winde, that vnder heauen doth blow;

Or weigh the light, that in the East doth rise;

Or weigh the thought, that from mans mind doth flow.

But if the weight of these thou canst not show,

Weigh but one word which from thy lips doth fall.

For how canst thou those greater secrets know,

That doest not know the least thing of them all?

Ill can he rule the great, that cannot reach the small.

Therewith the Gyant much abashed sayd;

That he of little things made reckoning light,

Yet the least word that euer could be layd

Within his ballaunce, he could way aright.

Which is (sayd he) more heauy then in weight,

The right or wrong, the false or else the trew?

He answered, that he would try it streight,

So he the words into his ballaunce threw,

But streight the winged words out of his ballaunce flew.

Wroth wext he then, and sayd, that words were light,

Ne would within his ballaunce well abide.

But he could iustly weigh the wrong or right.

Well then, sayd Artegall, let it be tride.

First in one ballance set the true aside.

He did so first; and then the false he layd

In th'other scale; but still it downe did slide,

And by no meane could in the weight be stayd.

For by no meanes the false will with the truth be wayd.

Now take the right likewise, sayd Artegale,

And counterpeise the same with so much wrong.

So first the right he put into one scale;

And then the Gyant stroue with puissance strong

To fill the other scale with so much wrong.

But all the wrongs that he therein could lay,

Might not it peise; yet did he labour long,

And swat, and chauf'd, and proued euery way:

Yet all the wrongs could not a litle right downe lay.

Which when he saw, he greatly grew in rage,

And almost would his balances haue broken:

But Artegall him fairely gan asswage,

And said; Be not vpon thy balance wroken:

For they doe nought but right or wrong betoken;

But in the mind the doome of right must bee;

And so likewise of words, the which be spoken,

The eare must be the ballance, to decree

And iudge, whether with truth or falshood they agree.

But set the truth and set the right aside,

For they with wrong or falshood will not fare;

And put two wrongs together to be tride,

Or else two falses, of each equall share;

And then together doe them both compare.

For truth is one, and right is euer one.

So did he, and then plaine it did appeare,

Whether of them the greater were attone.

But right sate in the middest of the beame alone.

But he the right from thence did thrust away,

For it was not the right, which he did seeke;

But rather stroue extremities to way,

Th'one to diminish, th'other for to eeke.

For of the meane he greatly did misleeke.

Whom when so lewdly minded Talus found,

Approching nigh vnto him cheeke by cheeke,

He shouldered him from off the higher ground,

And down the rock him throwing, in the sea him dround.

Like as a ship, whom cruell tempest driues

Vpon a rocke with horrible dismay,

Her shattered ribs in thousand peeces riues,

And spoyling all her geares and goodly ray,

Does make her selfe misfortunes piteous pray.

So downe the cliffe the wretched Gyant tumbled;

His battred ballances in peeces lay,

His timbered bones all broken rudely rumbled:

So was the high aspyring with huge ruine humbled.

That when the people, which had there about

Long wayted, saw his sudden desolation,

They gan to gather in tumultuous rout,

And mutining, to stirre vp ciuill faction,

For certaine losse of so great expectation.

For well they hoped to haue got great good,

And wondrous riches by his innouation.

Therefore resoluing to reuenge his blood,

They rose in armes, and all in battell order stood.

Which lawlesse multitude him comming too

In warlike wise, when Artegall did vew,

He much was troubled, ne wist what to doo.

For loth he was his noble hands t'embrew

In the base blood of such a rascall crew;

And otherwise, if that he should retire,

He fear'd least they with shame would him pursew.

Therefore he Talus to them sent, t'inquire

The cause of their array, and truce for to desire.

But soone as they him nigh approching spide,

They gan with all their weapons him assay,

And rudely stroke at him on euery side:

Yet nought they could him hurt, ne ought dismay.

But when at them he with his flaile gan lay,

He like a swarme of flyes them ouerthrew;

Ne any of them durst come in his way,

But here and there before his presence flew,

And hid themselues in holes and bushes from his vew.

As when a Faulcon hath with nimble flight

Flowne at a flush of Ducks, foreby the brooke,

The trembling foule dismayd with dreadfull sight

Of death, the which them almost ouertooke,

Doe hide themselues from her astonying looke,

Amongst the flags and couert round about.

When Talus saw they all the field forsooke

And none appear'd of all that raskall rout,

To Artegall he turn'd, and went with him throughout.

Canto III

The spousals of faire Florimell,

where turney many knights:

There Braggadochio is vncas'd

in all the Ladies sights.

A Fter long stormes and tempests ouerblowne,

The sunne at length his ioyous face doth cleare:

So when as fortune all her spight hath showne,

Some blisfull houres at last must needes appeare;

Else should afflicted wights oftimes despeire.

So comes it now to Florimell by tourne,

After long sorrowes suffered whyleare,

In which captiu'd she many moneths did mourne,

To tast of ioy, and to wont pleasures to retourne.

Who being freed from Proteus cruell band

By Marinell, was vnto him affide,

And by him brought againe to Faerie land;

Where he her spous'd, and made his ioyous bride.

The time and place was blazed farre and wide;

And solemne feasts and giusts ordain'd therefore.

To which there did resort from euery side

Of Lords and Ladies infinite great store;

Ne any Knight was absent, that braue courage bore.

To tell the glorie of the feast that day,

The goodly seruice, the deuicefull sights,

The bridegromes state, the brides most rich array,

The pride of Ladies, and the worth of knights,

The royall banquets, and the rare delights,

Were worke fit for an Herauld, not for me:

But for so much as to my lot here lights,

That with this present treatise doth agree,

True vertue to aduance, shall here recounted bee.

When all men had with full satietie

Of meates and drinkes their appetites suffiz'd,

To deedes of armes and proofe of cheualrie

They gan themselues addresse, full rich aguiz'd,

As each one had his furnitures deuiz'd.

And first of all issu'd Sir Marinell,

And with him sixe knights more, which enterpriz'd

To chalenge all in right of Florimell,

And to maintaine, that she all others did excell.

The first of them was hight Sir Orimont,

A noble Knight, and tride in hard assayes:

The second had to name Sir Bellisont,

But second vnto none in prowesse prayse;

The third was Brunell, famous in his dayes;

The fourth Ecastor, of exceeding might;

The fift Armeddan, skild in louely layes;

The sixt was Lansack, a redoubted Knight:

All sixe well seene in armes, and prou'd in many a fight.

And them against came all that list to giust,

From euery coast and countrie vnder sunne:

None was debard, but all had leaue that lust.

The trompets sound; then all together ronne.

Full many deedes of armes that day were donne,

And many knights vnhorst, and many wounded,

As fortune fell; yet litle lost or wonne:

But all that day the greatest prayse redounded

To Marinell, whose name the Heralds loud resounded.

The second day, so soone as morrow light

Appear'd in heauen, into the field they came,

And there all day continew'd cruell fight,

With diuers fortune fit for such a game,

In which all stroue with perill to winne fame.

Yet whether side was victor, note be ghest:

But at the last the trompets did proclame

That Marinell that day deserued best.

So they disparted were, and all men went to rest.

The third day came, that should due tryall lend

Of all the rest, and then this warlike crew

Together met, of all to make an end.

There Marinell great deeds of armes did shew;

And through the thickest like a Lyon flew,

Rashing off helmes, and ryuing plates a sonder,

That euery one his daunger did eschew.

So terribly his dreadfull strokes did thonder,

That all men stood amaz'd, & at his might did wonder.

But what on earth can alwayes happie stand?

The greater prowesse greater perils find.

So farre he past amongst his enemies band,

That they haue him enclosed so behind,

As by no meanes he can himselfe outwind.

And now perforce they haue him prisoner taken;

And now they doe with captiue bands him bind;

And now they lead him thence, of all forsaken,

Vnlesse some succour had in time him ouertaken.

It fortun'd whylest they were thus ill beset,

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 better hid.

So forth he went, and soone them ouer hent,

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 stayd behind to gard the pray.

But he ere long the former fiftie bet;

And from the other fiftie soone the prisoner fet.

So backe he brought Sir Marinell againe;

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

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

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:

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,

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 Florimele,

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,

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 skye,

Mounted in Phoebus 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

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,

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,

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,

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,

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,

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,

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,

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,

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,

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

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

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

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

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,

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,

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,

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:

It's punishment enough, that all his shame doe see.

So did he mitigate Sir Artegall;

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:

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

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,

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 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.

Canto IV

Artegall dealeth right betwixt

two brethren that doe strive,

Saues Terpine from the gallow tree,

and doth from death repriue.

VV Ho so vpon him selfe will take the skill

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

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 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,

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,

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,

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,

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,

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;

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,

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 Philtera 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

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,

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,

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,

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,

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,

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;

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;

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;

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;

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,

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,

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,

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,

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,

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,

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,

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, haplesse man, what make you here?

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,

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 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

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)

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,

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

She doth subdue, she fowly doth entreate.

First she doth them of warlike armes despoile,

And cloth 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,

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?)

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

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

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 Radigone.

Where they arriuing, by the watchmen were

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 like a man

Came forth into the rout, and them t'array began.

And now the Knights being arriued neare,

Did beat vppon the gates to enter in,

And at the Porter, skorning them so few,

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,

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

Sir Terpin, from her direfull doome acquit,

So cruell doale amongst her maides dauide,

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,

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

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,

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,

She fiercely towards him her selfe gan dight,

Through vengeful wrath & 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,

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

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,

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,

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,

Whom she thought fittest for that businesse,

Her name was Clarin, 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 droue vs to such distresse,

Tell, that to morrow I with him will fight,

And try in equall field, whether hath greater might.

But these conditions doe to him propound,

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

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 make.

So he them streight conducted to his Lord,

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.

Canto V

Artegall fights with Radigund

And is subdewd by guile:

He is by her emprisoned,

But wrought by Clarins wile.

S O soone as day forth dawning from the East,

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

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,

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,

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,

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;

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,

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,

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

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,

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,

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,

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

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,

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

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

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,

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,

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,

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,

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 white,

In stead of Curiets and bases fit for fight.

So being clad, she brought him from the field,

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

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,

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,

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,

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,

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,

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,

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

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,

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)

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,

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

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,

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,

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

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,

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

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) they should for euer last,

Yet in my truthes assurance I rest fixed fast.

But what so stonie mind (she then replyde)

But if in his owne powre occasion lay,

Would to his hope a windowe open wyde,

And to his fortunes helpe make readie way?

Vnworthy sure (quoth he) of better day,

That will not take the offer of good hope,

And eke pursew, if he attaine it may.

Which speaches she applying to the scope

Of her intent, this further purpose to him shope.

Then why doest not, thou ill aduized man,

Make meanes to win thy libertie forlorne,

And try if thou by faire entreatie, can

Moue Radigund? who though she still haue worne

Her dayes in warre, yet (weet thou) was not borne

Of Beares and Tygres, nor so saluage mynded,

As that, albe all loue of men she scorne,

She yet forgets, that she of men was kynded:

And sooth oft seene, that proudest harts base loue hath blynded.

Certes Clarinda, not of cancred will,

(Sayd he) nor obstinate disdainefull mind,

I haue forbore this duetie to fulfill:

For well I may this weene, by that I fynd,

That she a Queene, and come of Princely kynd,

Both worthie is for to be sewd vnto,

Chiefely by him, whose life her law doth bynd,

And eke of powre her owne doome to vndo,

And als' of princely grace to be inclyn'd thereto.

But want of meanes hath bene mine onely let,

From seeking fauour, where it doth abound;

Which if I might by your good office get,

I to your selfe should rest for euer bound,

And readie to deserue, what grace I found.

She feeling him thus bite vpon the bayt,

Yet doubting least his hold was but vnsound,

And not well fastened, would not strike him strayt,

But drew him on with hope, fit leasure to awayt.

But foolish Mayd, whyles heedlesse of the hooke,

She thus oft times was beating off and on,

Through slipperie footing, fell into the brooke,

And there was caught to her confusion.

For seeking thus to salue the Amazon,

She wounded was with her deceipts owne dart,

And gan thenceforth to cast affection,

Conceiued close in her beguiled hart,

To Artegall, through pittie of his causelesse smart.

Yet durst she not disclose her fancies wound,

Ne to himselfe, for doubt of being sdayned,

Ne yet to any other wight on ground,

For feare her mistresse shold haue knowledge gayned,

But to her selfe it secretly retayned,

Within the closet of her couert brest:

The more thereby her tender hart was payned.

Yet to awayt fit time she weened best,

And fairely did dissemble her sad thoughts vnrest.

One day her Ladie, calling her apart,

Gan to demaund of her some tydings good,

Touching her loues successe, her lingring smart.

Therewith she gan at first to change her mood,

As one adaw'd, and halfe confused stood;

But quickly she it ouerpast, so soone

As she her face had wypt, to fresh her blood:

Tho gan she tell her all, that she had donne,

And all the wayes she sought, his loue for to haue wonne.

But sayd, that he was obstinate and sterne,

Scorning her offers and conditions vaine;

Ne would be taught with any termes, to lerne

So fond a lesson, as to loue againe.

Die rather would he in penurious paine,

And his abridged dayes in dolour wast,

Then his foes loue or liking entertaine:

His resolution was both first and last,

His bodie was her thrall, his hart was freely plast.

Which when the cruell Amazon perceiued,

She gan to storme, and rage, and rend her gall,

For very fell despight, which she conceiued,

To be so scorned of a base borne thrall,

Whose life did lie in her least eye-lids fall;

Of which she vow'd with many a cursed threat,

That she therefore would him ere long forestall.

Nathlesse when calmed was her furious heat,

She chang'd that threatfull mood, & mildly gan entreat.

What now is left Clarinda? what remaines,

That we may compasse this our enterprize?

Great shame to lose so long employed paines,

And greater shame t'abide so great misprize,

With which he dares our offers thus despize.

Yet that his guilt the greater may appeare,

And more my gratious mercie by this wize,

I will a while with his first folly beare,

Till thou haue tride againe, & tempted him more neare.

Say, and do all, that may thereto preuaile;

Leaue nought vnpromist, that may him perswade,

Life, freedome, grace, and gifts of great auaile,

With which the Gods themselues are mylder made:

Thereto adde art, euen womens witty trade,

The art of mightie words, that men can charme;

With which in case thou canst him not inuade,

Let him feele hardnesse of thy heauie arme:

Who will not stoupe with good, shall be made stoupe with harme.

Some of his diet doe from him withdraw;

For I him find to be too proudly fed.

Giue him more labour, and with streighter law,

That he with worke may be forwearied.

Let him lodge hard, and lie in strawen bed,

That may pull downe the courage of his pride;

And lay vpon him, for his greater dread,

Cold yron chaines, with which let him be tide;

And let, what euer he desires, be him denide.

When thou hast all this doen, then bring me newes

Of his demeane: thenceforth not like a louer,

But like a rebell stout I will him vse.

For I resolue this siege not to giue ouer,

Till I the conquest of my will recouer.

So she departed, full of griefe and sdaine,

Which inly did to great impatience moue her.

But the false mayden shortly turn'd againe

Vnto the prison, where her hart did thrall remaine.

There all her subtill nets she did vnfold,

And all the engins of her wit display;

In which she meant him warelesse to enfold,

And of his innocence to make her pray.

So cunningly she wrought her crafts assay,

That both her Ladie, and her selfe withall,

And eke the knight attonce she did betray:

But most the knight, whom she with guilefull call

Did cast for to allure, into her trap to fall.

As a bad Nurse, which fayning to receiue

In her owne mouth the food, ment for her chyld,

Withholdes it to her selfe, and doeth deceiue

The infant, so for want of nourture spoyld:

Euen so Clarinda her owne Dame beguyld,

And turn'd the trust, which was in her affyde,

To feeding of her priuate fire, which boyld

Her inward brest, and in her entrayles fryde,

The more that she it sought to couer and to hyde.

For comming to this knight, she purpose fayned,

How earnest suit she earst for him had made

Vnto her Queene, his freedome to haue gayned;

But by no meanes could her thereto perswade:

But that in stead therof, she sternely bade

His miserie to be augmented more,

And many yron bands on him to lade.

All which nathlesse she for his loue forbore:

So praying him t'accept her seruice euermore.

And more then that, she promist that she would,

In case she might finde fauour in his eye,

Deuize how to enlarge him out of hould.

The Fayrie glad to gaine his libertie,

Can yeeld great thankes for such her curtesie,

And with faire words, fit for the time and place,

To feede the humour of her maladie;

Promist, if she would free him from that case,

He wold by all good means he might, deserue such grace.

So daily he faire semblant did her shew,

Yet neuer meant he in his noble mind,

To his owne absent loue to be vntrew:

Ne euer did deceiptfull Clarin find

In her false hart, his bondage to vnbind;

But rather how she mote him faster tye.

Therefore vnto her mistresse most vnkind

She daily told, her loue he did defye,

And him she told, her Dame his freedome did denye.

Yet thus much friendship she to him did show,

That his scarse diet somewhat was amended,

And his worke lessened, that his loue mote grow:

Yet to her Dame him still she discommended,

That she with him mote be the more offended.

Thus he long while in thraldome there remayned,

Of both beloued well, but litle frended;

Vntill his owne true loue his freedome gayned,

Which in an other Canto will be best contayned.

Canto VI

Talus brings newes to Britomart

of Artegals mishap,

She goes to seeke him, Dolon meetes

who seekes her to entrap.

S Ome men, I wote, will deeme in Artegall

Great weaknesse, and report of him much ill,

For yeelding so himselfe a wretched thrall,

To th'insolent commaund of womens will;

That all his former praise doth fowly spill.

But he the man, that say or doe so dare,

Be well aduiz'd, that he stand stedfast still:

For neuer yet was wight so well aware,

But he at first or last was trapt in womens snare.

Yet in the streightnesse of that captiue state,

This gentle knight himselfe so well behaued,

That notwithstanding all the subtill bait,

With which those Amazons his loue still craued,

To his owne loue his loialtie he saued:

Whose character in th'Adamantine mould

Of his true hart so firmely was engraued,

That no new loues impression euer could

Bereaue it thence: such blot his honour blemish should.

Yet his owne loue, the noble Britomart,

Scarse so conceiued in her iealous thought,

What time sad tydings of his balefull smart

In womans bondage, Talus to her brought;

Brought in vntimely houre, ere it was sought.

For after that the vtmost date, assynde

For his returne, she waited had for nought,

She gan to cast in her misdoubtfull mynde

A thousand feares, that loue-sicke fancies faine to fynde.

Sometime she feared, least some hard mishap

Had him misfalne in his aduenturous quest;

Sometime least his false foe did him entrap

In traytrous traine, or had vnwares opprest:

But most she did her troubled mynd molest,

And secretly afflict with iealous feare,

Least some new loue had him from her possest;

Yet loth she was, since she no ill did heare,

To thinke of him so ill: yet could she not forbeare.

One while she blam'd her selfe; another whyle

She him condemn'd, as trustlesse and vntrew:

And then, her griefe with errour to beguyle,

She fayn'd to count the time againe anew,

As if before she had not counted trew.

For houres but dayes; for weekes, that passed were,

She told but moneths, to make them seeme more few:

Yet when she reckned them, still drawing neare,

Each hour did seeme a moneth, & euery moneth a yeare.

But when as yet she saw him not returne,

She thought to send some one to seeke him out;

But none she found so fit to serue that turne,

As her owne selfe, to ease her selfe of dout.

Now she deuiz'd amongst the warlike rout

Of errant Knights, to seeke her errant Knight;

And then againe resolu'd to hunt him out

Amongst loose Ladies, lapped in delight:

And then both Knights enuide, & Ladies eke did spight.

One day, when as she long had sought for ease

In euery place, and euery place thought best,

Yet found no place, that could her liking please,

She to a window came, that opened West,

Towards which coast her loue his way addrest.

There looking forth, shee in her heart did find

Many vaine fancies, working her vnrest;

And sent her winged thoughts, more swift then wind,

To beare vnto her loue the message of her mind.

There as she looked long, at last she spide

One comming towards her with hasty speede:

Well weend she then, ere him she plaine descride,

That it was one sent from her loue indeede.

Who when he nigh approcht, shee mote arede

That it was Talus, Artegall his groome;

Whereat her heart was fild with hope and drede;

Ne would she stay, till he in place could come,

But ran to meete him forth, to know his tidings somme.

Euen in the dore him meeting, she begun;

And where is he thy Lord, and how far hence?

Declare at once; and hath he lost or wun?

The yron man, albe he wanted sence

And sorrowes feeling, yet with conscience

Of his ill newes, did inly chill and quake,

And stood still mute, as one in great suspence,

As if that by his silence he would make

Her rather reade his meaning, then him selfe it spake.

Till she againe thus sayd; Talus be bold,

And tell what euer it be, good or bad,

That from thy tongue thy hearts intent doth hold.

To whom he thus at length. The tidings sad,

That I would hide, will needs, I see, be rad.

My Lord, your Loue, by hard mishap doth lie

In wretched bondage, wofully bestad.

Ay me (quoth she) what wicked destinie?

And is he vanquisht by his tyrant enemy?

Not by that Tyrant, his intended foe;

But by a Tyrannesse (he then replide,)

That him captiued hath in haplesse woe.

Cease thou bad newes-man, badly doest thou hide

Thy maisters shame, in harlots bondage tide.

The rest my selfe too readily can spell.

With that in rage she turn'd from him aside,

Forcing in vaine the rest to her to tell,

And to her chamber went like solitary cell.

There she began to make her monefull plaint

Against her Knight, for being so vntrew;

And him to touch with falshoods fowle attaint,

That all his other honour ouerthrew.

Oft did she blame her selfe, and often rew,

For yeelding to a straungers loue so light,

Whose life and manners straunge she neuer knew;

And euermore she did him sharpely twight

For breach of faith to her, which he had firmely plight.

And then she in her wrathfull will did cast,

How to reuenge that blot of honour blent;

To fight with him, and goodly die her last:

And then againe she did her selfe torment,

Inflicting on her selfe his punishment.

A while she walkt, and chauft; a while she threw

Her selfe vppon her bed, and did lament:

Yet did she not lament with loude alew,

As women wont, but with deepe sighes, and singulfs few.

Like as a wayward childe, whose sounder sleepe

Is broken with some fearefull dreames affright,

With froward will doth set him selfe to weepe;

Ne can be stild for all his nurses might,

But kicks, and squals, and shriekes for fell despight:

Now scratching her, and her loose locks misusing;

Now seeking darkenesse, and now seeking light;

Then crauing sucke, and then the sucke refusing.

Such was this Ladies fit, in her loues fond accusing.

But when she had with such vnquiet fits

Her selfe there close afflicted long in vaine,

Yet found no easement in her troubled wits,

She vnto Talus forth return'd againe,

By change of place seeking to ease her paine;

And gan enquire of him, with mylder mood,

The certaine cause of Artegals detaine;

And what he did, and in what state he stood,

And whether he did woo, or whether he were woo'd.

Ah wellaway (sayd then the yron man,)

That he is not the while in state to woo;

But lies in wretched thraldome, weake and wan,

Not by strong hand compelled thereunto,

But his owne doome, that none can now vndoo.

Sayd I not then (quoth shee) erwhile aright,

That this is things compacte betwixt you two,

Me to deceiue of faith vnto me plight,

Since that he was not forst, nor ouercome in fight?

With that he gan at large to her dilate

The whole discourse of his captiuance sad,

In sort as ye haue heard the same of late.

All which when she with hard enduraunce had

Heard to the end, she was right sore bestad,

With sodaine stounds of wrath and griefe attone:

Ne would abide, till she had aunswere made,

But streight her selfe did dight, and armor don;

And mounting to her steede, bad Talus guide her on.

So forth she rode vppon her ready way,

To seeke her Knight, as Talus her did guide:

Sadly she rode, and neuer word did say,

Nor good nor bad, ne euer lookt aside,

But still right downe, and in her thought did hide

The felnesse of her heart, right fully bent

To fierce auengement of that womans pride,

Which had her Lord in her base prison pent,

And so great honour with so fowle reproch had blent.

So as she thus melancholicke did ride,

Chawing the cud of griefe and inward paine,

She chaunst to meete toward th'euen-tide

A Knight, that softly paced on the plaine,

As if him selfe to solace he were faine.

Well shot in yeares he seem'd, and rather bent

To peace, then needlesse trouble to constraine.

As well by view of that his vestiment,

As by his modest semblant, that no euill ment.

He comming neare, gan gently her salute,

With curteous words, in the most comely wize;

Who though desirous rather to rest mute,

Then termes to entertaine of common guize,

Yet rather then she kindnesse would despize,

She would her selfe displease, so him requite.

Then gan the other further to deuize

Of things abrode, as next to hand did light,

And many things demaund, to which she answer'd light.

For little lust had she to talke of ought,

Or ought to heare, that mote delightfull bee;

Her minde was whole possessed of one thought,

That gaue none other place. Which when as hee

By outward signes, (as well he might) did see,

He list no lenger to vse lothfull speach,

But her besought to take it well in gree,

Sith shady dampe had dimd the heauens reach,

To lodge with him that night, vnles good cause empeach.

The Championesse, now seeing night at dore,

Was glad to yeeld vnto his good request:

And with him went without gaine-saying more.

Not farre away, but little wide by West,

His dwelling was, to which he him addrest;

Where soone arriuing they receiued were

In seemely wise, as them beseemed best:

For he their host them goodly well did cheare,

And talk't of pleasant things, the night away to weare.

Thus passing th'euening well, till time of rest,

Then Britomart vnto a bowre was brought;

Where groomes awayted her to haue vndrest.

But she ne would vndressed be for ought,

Ne doffe her armes, though he her much besought.

For she had vow'd, she sayd, not to forgo

Those warlike weedes, till she reuenge had wrought

Of a late wrong vppon a mortall foe;

Which she would sure performe, betide her wele or wo.

Which when their Host perceiu'd, right discontent

In minde he grew, for feare least by that art

He should his purpose misse, which close he ment:

Yet taking leaue of her, he did depart.

There all that night remained Britomart,

Restlesse, recomfortlesse, with heart deepe grieued,

Not suffering the least twinckling sleepe to start

Into her eye, which th'heart mote haue relieued,

But if the least appear'd, her eyes she streight reprieued.

Ye guilty eyes (sayd she) the which with guyle

My heart at first betrayd, will ye betray

My life now to, for which a little whyle

Ye will not watch? false watches, wellaway,

I wote when ye did watch both night and day

Vnto your losse: and now needes will ye sleepe?

Now ye haue made my heart to wake alway,

Now will ye sleepe? ah wake, and rather weepe,

To thinke of your nights want, that should yee waking keepe.

Thus did she watch, and weare the weary night

In waylfull plaints, that none was to appease;

Now walking soft, now sitting still vpright,

As sundry chaunge her seemed best to ease.

Ne lesse did Talus suffer sleepe to seaze

His eye-lids sad, but watcht continually,

Lying without her dore in great disease;

Like to a Spaniell wayting carefully

Least any should betray his Lady treacherously.

What time the natiue Belman of the night,

The bird, that warned Peter of his fall,

First rings his siluer Bell t'each sleepy wight,

That should their mindes vp to deuotion call,

She heard a wondrous noise below the hall.

All sodainely the bed, where she should lie,

By a false trap was let adowne to fall

Into a lower roome, and by and by

The loft was raysd againe, that no man could it spie.

With sight whereof she was dismayd right sore,

Perceiuing well the treason, which was ment:

Yet stirred not at all for doubt of more,

But kept her place with courage confident,

Wayting what would ensue of that euent.

It was not long, before she heard the sound

Of armed men, comming with close intent

Towards her chamber; at which dreadfull stound

She quickly caught her sword, & shield about her bound.

With that there came vnto her chamber dore

Two Knights, all armed ready for to fight,

And after them full many other more,

A raskall rout, with weapons rudely dight.

Whom soone as Talus spide by glims of night,

He started vp, there where on ground he lay,

And in his hand his thresher ready keight.

They seeing that, let driue at him streight way,

And round about him preace in riotous aray.

But soone as he began to lay about

With his rude yron flaile, they gan to flie,

Both armed Knights, and eke vnarmed rout:

Yet Talus after them apace did plie,

Where euer in the darke he could them spie;

That here and there like scattred sheepe they lay.

Then backe returning, where his Dame did lie,

He to her told the story of that fray,

And all that treason there intended did bewray.

Wherewith though wondrous wroth, and inly burning,

To be auenged for so fowle a deede,

Yet being forst to abide the daies returning,

She there remain'd, but with right wary heede,

Least any more such practise should proceede.

Now mote ye know (that which to Britomart

Vnknowen was) whence all this did proceede,

And for what cause so great mischieuous smart

Was ment to her, that neuer euill ment in hart.

The goodman of this house was Dolon hight,

A man of subtill wit and wicked minde,

That whilome in his youth had bene a Knight,

And armes had borne, but little good could finde,

And much lesse honour by that warlike kinde

Of life: for he was nothing valorous,

But with slie shiftes and wiles did vnderminde

All noble Knights, which were aduenturous,

And many brought to shame by treason treacherous.

He had three sonnes, all three like fathers sonnes,

Like treacherous, like full of fraud and guile,

Of all that on this earthly compasse wonnes:

The eldest of the which was slaine erewhile

By Artegall, through his owne guilty wile;

His name was Guizor, whose vntimely fate

For to auenge, full many treasons vile

His father Dolon had deuiz'd of late

With these his wicked sons, and shewd his cankred hate.

For sure he weend, that this his present guest

Was Artegall, by many tokens plaine;

But chiefly by that yron page he ghest,

Which still was wont with Artegall remaine;

And therefore ment him surely to haue slaine.

But by Gods grace, and her good heedinesse,

She was preserued from their traytrous traine.

Thus she all night wore out in watchfulnesse,

Ne suffred slothfull sleepe her eyelids to oppresse.

The morrow next, so soone as dawning houre

Discouered had the light to liuing eye,

She forth yssew'd out of her loathed bowre,

With full intent t'auenge that villany,

On that vilde man, and all his family.

And comming down to seeke them, where they wond,

Nor sire, nor sonnes, nor any could she spie:

Each rowme she sought, but them all empty fond:

They all were fled for feare, but whether, nether kond.

She saw it vaine to make there lenger stay,

But tooke her steede, and thereon mounting light,

Gan her addresse vnto her former way.

She had not rid the mountenance of a flight,

But that she saw there present in her sight,

Those two false brethren, on that perillous Bridge,

On which Pollente with Artegall did fight.

Streight was the passage like a ploughed ridge,

That if two met, the one mote needes fall ouer the lidge.

There they did thinke them selues on her to wreake:

Who as she nigh vnto them drew, the one

These vile reproches gan vnto her speake;

Thou recreant false traytor, that with lone

Of armes has knighthood stolne, yet Knight art none,

No more shall now the darkenesse of the night

Defend thee from the vengeance of thy fone,

But with thy bloud thou shalt appease the spright

Of Guizor, by thee slaine, and murdred by thy slight.

Strange were the words in Britomartis eare;

Yet stayd she not for them, but forward fared,

Till to the perillous Bridge she came, and there

Talus desir'd, that he might haue prepared

The way to her, and those two losels scared.

But she thereat was wroth, that for despight

The glauncing sparkles through her beuer glared,

And from her eies did flash out fiery light,

Like coles, that through a siluer Censer sparkle bright.

She stayd not to aduise which way to take;

But putting spurres vnto her fiery beast,

Thorough the midst of them she way did make.

The one of them, which most her wrath increast,

Vppon her speare she bore before her breast,

Till to the Bridges further end she past,

Where falling downe, his challenge he releast:

The other ouer side the Bridge she cast

Into the riuer, where he drunke his deadly last.

As when the flashing Leuin haps to light

Vppon two stubborne oakes, which stand so neare,

That way betwixt them none appeares in sight;

The Engin fiercely flying forth, doth teare

Th'one from the earth, & through the aire doth beare;

The other it with force doth ouerthrow,

Vppon one side, and from his rootes doth reare.

So did the Championesse those two there strow,

And to their sire their carcasses left to bestow.

Canto VII

Britomart comes to Isis Church,

Where shee strange visions sees:

She fights with Radigund, her slaies,

And Artegall thence frees.

N Ought is on earth more sacred or diuine,

That Gods and men doe equally adore,

Then this same vertue, that doth right define:

For th'heuens themselues, whence mortal men implore

Right in their wrongs, are rul'd by righteous lore

Of highest Ioue, who doth true iustice deale

To his inferiour Gods, and euermore

Therewith containes his heauenly Common-weale,

The skill whereof to Princes hearts he doth reueale.

Well therefore did the antique world inuent,

That Iustice was a God of soueraine grace,

And altars vnto him, and temples lent,

And heauenly honours in the highest place;

Calling him great Osyris, of the race

Of th'old Ægyptian Kings, that whylome were;

With fayned colours shading a true case:

For that Osyris, whilest he liued here,

The iustest man aliue, and truest did appeare.

His wife was Isis, whom they likewise made

A Goddesse of great powre and souerainty

And in her person cunningly did shade

That part of Iustice, which is Equity,

Whereof I haue to treat here presently.

Vnto whose temple when as Britomart

Arriued, shee with great humility

Did enter in, ne would that night depart;

But Talus mote not be admitted to her part.

There she receiued was in goodly wize

Of many Priests, which duely did attend

Vppon the rites and daily sacrifize,

All clad in linnen robes with siluer hemd;