Mongst which, Serena did to him relate
The foule discourt'sies and unknightly parts,
Which Turpine had unto her shewed late
Without compassion of her cruell smarts:
Although Blandina did with all her arts
Him otherwise perswade all that she might,
Yet he of malice, without her desarts,
Not onely her excluded late at night,
But also trayterously did wound her weary knight.

Wherewith the prince sore moved there avoud
That, soone as he returned backe againe,
He would avenge th' abuses of that proud
And shameful knight, of whom she did complaine.
This wize did they each other entertaine
To passe the tedious travell of the way;
Till towards night they came unto a plaine,
By which a little hermitage there lay,

Far from all neighbourhood, the which annoy it may.

And nigh thereto a little chappel stoode,
Which being all with yvy overspred
Deckt all the roofe, and, shadowing the roode,
Seem'd like a grove faire braunched over hed:
Therein the hermite, which his life here led
In streight observaunce of religious vow,
Was wont his howres and holy things to bed;
And therein he likewise was praying now, [nor how.
Whenas these knights arriv'd, they wist not where
They stayd not there, but streightway in did pas:
Whom when the hermite present saw in place,
From his devotion streight he troubled was;
Which breaking off he toward them did pace
With stayed steps and grave beseeming grace:
For well it seem'd that whilome he had beene
Some goodly person, and of gentle race,
That could his good to all; and well did weene
How each to entertaine with curt'sie well beseene:

And soothly it was sayd by common fame,
So long as age enabled him thereto,
That he had bene a man of mickle name,
Renowmed much in armes and derring doe:
But being aged now, and weary to

Of warres delight and worlds contentious toyle,
The name of knighthood he did disavow;
And, hanging up his armes and warlike spoyle,
From all this worlds incumbrance did himselfe as-
soyle.

He thence them led into his hermitage,
Letting their steedes to graze upon the greene:
Small was his house, and, like a little cage,
For his owne turne; yet inly neate and clene,
Deckt with greene boughes and flowers gay beseene:
Therein he them full faire did entertaine
Not with such forged showes, as fitter beene
For courting fooles that curtesies would faine,
But with entire affection and appearaunce plaine.

Yet was their fare but homely, such as hee
Did use his feeble body to sustaine;
The which full gladly they did take in glee,
Such as it was, ne did of want complaine,
But, being well suffiz'd, them rested faine:
But fair Serene all night could take no rest,
Ne yet that gentle squire, for grievous paine
Of their late woundes, the which the Blatant Beast
Had given them, whose griefe through suffraunce
sore increast.

So all that night they past in great disease,
Till that the morning, bringing earely light
To guide mens labours, brought them also ease,
And some asswagement of their painefull plight.
Then up they rose, and gan themselves to dight
Unto their journey; but that squire and dame
So faint and feeble were, that they ne might
Endure to travell, nor one foote to frame:
Their hearts were sicke; their sides were sore;
their feete were lame.

Therefore the prince, whom great affaires in mynd
Would not permit to make there lenger stay,
Was forced there to leave them both behynd
In that good hermits charge, whom he did pray
To tend them well: so forth he went his way,
And with him eke the salvage (that whyleare
Seeing his royall usage and array

Was greatly growne in love of that brave pere) Would needes depart; as shall declared be elsewhere.

CANTO VI.

The hermite heales both squire and dame

Of their sore maladies:

He Turpine doth defeate and shame
For his late villanies.

No wound, which warlike hand of enemy
Inflicts with dint of sword, so sore doth light
As doth the poysnous sting, which infamy
Infixeth in the name of noble wight:
For, by no art nor any leaches might,
It ever can recured be againe;

Ne all the skill, which that immortall spright
Of Podalyrius did in it retaine,

Can remedy such hurts; such hurts are hellish paine.

Such were the wounds the which that Blatant Beast
Made in the bodies of that squire and dame;
And, being such, were now much more increast
For want of taking heede unto the same,
That now corrupt and curelesse they became :
Howbe that carefull hermite did his best,
With many kindes of medicines meete, to tame
The poysnous humour which did most infest [drest.
Their ranckling wounds, and every day them duely

For he right well in leaches craft was seene;
And, through the long experience of his dayes,
Which had in many fortunes tossed beene
And past through many perillous assayes,
He knew the diverse went of mortall wayes,
And in the mindes of men had great insight;
Which with sage counsell, when they went astray,
He could enforme, and them reduce aright;
And all the passions heale, which wound the weaker
spright.

For whylome he had bene a doughty knight,
As any one that lived in his daies,
And proved oft in many perillous fight,
In which he grace and glory wonne alwaies,
And in all battels bore away the baies:
But being now attacht with timely age,
And weary of this worlds unquiet waies,
He tooke himselfe unto this hermitage,
In which he liv'd alone, like carelesse bird in cage.

One day, as he was searching of their wounds,
He found that they had festred privily;
And, ranckling inward with unruly stounds,
The inner parts now gan to putrify,

That quite they seem'd past helpe of surgery;
And rather needed to be disciplinde
With holesome reede of sad sobriety,
To rule the stubborne rage of passion blinde:
Give salves to every sore, but counsell to the minde.

So, taking them apart into his cell,
He to that point fit speaches gan to frame,
As he the art of words knew wondrous well,
And eke could doe as well as say the same;
And thus he to them sayd; "Faire daughter dame,
And you, faire sonne, which here thus long now lie
In piteous languor since ye hither came;
In vaine of me ye hope for remedie,

And I likewise in vaine doe salves to you applie:

"For in yourselfe your onely, helpe doth lie
To heale yourselves, and must proceed alone
From your owne will to cure your maladie.
Who can him cure that will be cur'd of none?
If therefore health ye seeke, observe this one:
First learne your outward senses to refraine
From things that stirre up fraile affection;
Your eies, your eares, your tongue, your talk re-
straine
[taine.
From that they most affect, and in due termes con-
"For from those outward sences, ill affected,
The seede of all this evill first doth spring,
Which at the first, before it had infected,
Mote easie be supprest with little thing:
But, being growen strong, it forth doth bring
Sorrow, and anguish, and impatient paine,
In th' inner parts; and lastly, scattering
Contagious poyson close through every vaine,
It never rests till it have wrought his finall bane.

"For that beastes teeth, which wounded you tofore,
Are so exceeding venemous and keene,
Made all of rusty yron ranckling sore,
That, where they bite, it booteth not to weene.
With salve, or antidote, or other mene,
It ever to amend: ne marvaile ought;
For that same beast was bred of hellish strene,
And long in darksome Stygian den upbrought,
Begot of foule Echidna, as in bookes is taught.

"Echidna is a monster direfull dred,
Whom gods doe hate, and Heavens abhor to see;
So hideous is her shape, so huge her hed,
That even the hellish fiends affrighted bee
At sight thereof, and from her preseuce flee:
Yet did her face and former parts professe
A faire young mayden, full of comely glee;
But all her hinder parts did plaine expresse
A monstrous dragon, full of fearfull uglinesse.

"To her the gods, for her so dreadfull face,
In fearefull darknesse, furthest from the skie
And from the Earth, appointed have her place
Mongst rocks and caves, where she enrold doth lie
In hideous horrour and obscurity,
Wasting the strength of her immortall age:
There did Typhaon with her company;
Cruell Typhaon, whose tempestuous rage

Makes th' Heavens tremble oft, and him with vowes asswagę.

"Of that commixtion they did then beget
This hellish dog, that hight the Blatant Beast;
A wicked monster, that his tongue doth whet
Gainst all, both good and bad, both most and least
And pours his poysnous gall forth to infest
The noblest wights with notable defame:
Ne ever knight that bore so lofty creast,
Ne ever ladie of so honest name,

But he them spotted with reproch, or secrete shame.
"In vaine therefore it were with medicine
To goe about to salve such kind of sore,
That rather needes wise read and discipline
Then outward salves that may augment it more."
"Aye me!" sayd then Serena, sighing sore,
"What hope of helpe doth then for us remaine,
If that no salves may us to health restore!"
"But sith we need good counsell," sayd the swaine,
"Aread, good sire, some counsell that may us sus--
taine."

"The best," sayd he, " that I can you advize,
Is, to avoide th' occasion of the ill:

For when the cause, whence evill doth arize,
Removed is, th' effect surceaseth still.
Abstaine from pleasure, and restraine your will;
Subdue desire, and bridle loose delight;
Use scanted diet, and forbeare your fill;
Shun secresie, and talke in open sight:
So shall you soone repaire your present evill plight.”
Thus having sayd, his sickely patients
Did gladly hearken to his grave beheast,
And kept so well his wise commaundëments,
That in short space their malady was ceast,
And eke the biting of that harmefull beast [ceave
Was throughly heal'd, Tho when they did per-
Their wounds recur'd, and forces reincreast,
Of that good hermite both they tooke their leave,
And went both on their way, ne ech would other
leave:

But each the other vow'd t' accompany :
The lady, for that she was much in dred,
Now left alone in great extremity;
The squire, for that he courteous was indeed,
Would not her leave alone in her great need.
So both together traveld, till they met
With a faire mayden clad in mourning weed,
Upon a mangy iade unmeetly set,

And a lewd foole her leading thorough dry and wet.

But by what meanes that shame to her befell,
And how thereof herselfe she did acquite,
I must a while forbeare to you to tell;
Till that, as comes by course, I doe recite
What fortune to the Briton prince did lite,
Pursuing that proud knight, the which whileare
Wrought to sir Calepine so foule despight;
And eke his lady, though she sickly were,
So lewdly had abusde, as ye did lately heare.

The prince, according to the former token,
Which faire Serene to him delivered had,
Pursu'd him streight; in mynd to bene ywroken
Of all the vile demeane and usage bad,
With which he had those two so ill bestad:
Ne wight with him on that adventure went,
But that wyld man; whom though he oft forbad,
Yet for no bidding, nor for being shent,
Would he restrained be from his attendëment.

Arriving there, as did by chaunce befall,
He found the gate wyde ope, and in he rode,
Ne stayd, till that he came into the hall;
Where soft dismounting, like a weary lode,
Upon the ground with feeble feete he trode,
As he unable were for very neede

To move one foote, but there must make abode;
The whiles the salvage man did take his steede,
And in some stable neare did set him up to feede.

Ere long to him a homely groome there came,
That in rude wise him asked what he was,
That durst so boldly, without let or shame,
Into his lords forbidden hall to passe:
To whom the prince, him fayning to embase,
Mylde answer made, he was an errant knight,
The which was fall'n into this feeble case
Through many wounds, which lately he in fight
Received had, and prayd to pitty his ill plight.

And with his teeth and nailes, in present vew,
Him rudely rent and all to peeces tore;
So miserably him all helpelesse slew,
That with the noise, whilest he did loudly rore,
The people of the house rose forth in great uprore.

Who when on ground they saw their fellow slaine,
And that same knight and salvage standing by,
Upon them two they fell with might and maine,
And on them layd so huge and horribly,
As if they would have slaine them presently:
But the bold prince defended him so well,
And their assault withstood so mightily,
That, maugre all their might, he did repell
And beat them back, whilst many underneath him

Yet he them still so sharpely did pursew,
That few of them he left alive, which fled,
Those evill tydings to their lord to shew:
Who, hearing how his people badly sped,

[fell.

Came forth in hast; where whenas with the dead He saw the ground all strow'd, and that same knight And salvage with their bloud fresh steeming red, He woxe nigh mad with wrath and fell despight, And with reprochfull words him thus bespake on hight;

With dreadfull force they all did him assaile,
And round about with boystrous strokes oppresse,
That on his shield did rattle like to haile
In a great tempest; that in such distresse
He wist not to which side him to addresse:
And evermore that craven cowherd knight
Was at his backe with heartlesse heedinesse,
Wayting if he unwares him murther might:
For cowardize doth still in villany delight.
Whereof whenas the prince was well aware,
He to him turnd with furious intent,
And him against his powre gan to prepare;
Like a fierce bull, that being busie bent
To fight with many foes about him ment,
Feeling some curre behinde his heeles to bite,
Turnes him about with fell avengement:

So likewise turnde the prince upon the knight,
And layd at him amaine with all his will and might.

Who, when he once his dreadfull strokes had tasted,
Durst not the furie of his force abyde,

But turn'd abacke, and to retyre him hasted Through the thick prease, there thinking him to byde:

But, when the prince had once him plainely eyde,
He foot by foot him followed alway,

Ne would him suffer once to shrinke asyde;
But, ioyning close, huge lode at him did lay;
Who flying still did ward, and warding fly away.

But, when his foe he still so eger saw,
Unto his heeles himselfe he did betake,
Hoping unto some refuge to withdraw:
Ne would the prince him ever foot forsake
Whereso he went, but after him did make.
He fled from roome to roome, from place to place,
Whylest every ioynt for dread of death did quake,
Still looking after him that did him chace;
That made him evermore increase his speedie pace.

At last he up into the chamber came
Whereas his love was sitting all alone,
Wayting what tydings of her folke became.
There did the prince him overtake anone
Crying in vaine to her him to bemone;

And with his sword him on the head did smyte,
That to the ground he fell in senselesse swone:
Yet, whether thwart or flatly it did lyte,
The tempred steele did not into his braynepan byte.

Which when the ladie saw, with great affright
She starting up began to shrieke aloud;
And, with her garment covering him from sight,
Seem'd under her protection him to shroud;
And, falling lowly at his feet, her bowd
Upon her knee, intreating him for grace,
And often him besought, and prayd, and vowd;
That, with the ruth of her so wretched case,
He stayd his second strooke, and did his hand abase.

Her weed she then withdrawing did him discover;
Who now come to himselfe yet would not rize,
But still did lie as dead, and quake, and quiver,
That even the prince his basenesse did despize;
And eke his dame, him seeing in such guize,
Gan him recomfort and from ground to reare:
Who rising up at last in ghastly wize,
Like troubled ghost, did dreadfully appeare,
As one that had no life him left through former feare.

Whom when the prince so deadly saw dismayd,
He for such basenesse shamefully him shent,
And with sharpe words did bitterly upbrayd;
"Vile cowheard dogge, now doe I much repent,
That ever I this life unto thee lent,
Whereof thou caytive so unworthie art,
That both thy love, for lacke of hardiment,
And eke thyselfe, for want of manly hart,

And eke all knights hast shamed with this knightlesse part.

"Yet further hast thou heaped shame to shame,
And crime to crime, by this thy cowheard feare:
For first it was to thee reprochfull blame,
T erect this wicked custome, which I heare
Gainst errant knights and ladies thou dost reare;
Whom when thou mayst thou dost of arms despoile,
Or of their upper garment which they weare:
Yet doest thou not with manhood, but with guile,
Maintaine this evil use, thy foes thereby to foile.

"And lastly, in approvance of thy wrong,
To shew such faintnesse and foule cowardize
Is greatest shame; for oft it falles, that strong
And valiant knights doe rashly enterprize
Either for fame, or else for exercize,
A wrongfull quarrell to maintaine by fight;
Yet have through prowesse and their brave emprize
Gotten great worship in this worldës sight:
For greater force there needs to maintaine wrong
then right.

"Yet, since thy life unto this ladie fayre
I given have, live in reproch and scorne!
Ne ever armes ne ever knighthood dare
Hence to professe; for shame is to adorne
With so brave badges one so basely borne;
But onely breath, sith that I did forgive!"
So having from his craven bodie torne
Those goodly armes, he them away did give,
And onely suffred him this wretched life to live.

There whilest he thus was setling things above,
Atwene that ladie myld and recreant knight,
To whom his life he graunted for her love,
He gan bethinke him in what perilous plight
He had bebynd him left that salvage wight
Amongst so many foes, whom sure he thought
By this quite slaine in so unequall fight:
Therefore descending backe in haste he sought
If yet he were alive, or to destruction brought.

There he him found environed about
With slaughtred bodies, which his hand had slaine;
And laying yet afresh with courage stout
Upon the rest that did alive remaine;

Whom he likewise right sorely did constraine,
Like scattred sheepe, to seeke for safëtie,

After he gotten had with busie paine

Some of their weapons which thereby did lie,
With which he layd about, and made them fast to flie.

Whom when the prince so felly saw to rage,
Approaching to him neare, his hand he stayd,
And sought, by making signes, him to asswage:
Who them perceiving, streight to him obayd,
As to his lord, and downe his weapons layd,
As if he long had to his heasts bene trayned.
Thence he him brought away, and up convayd
Into the chamber, where that dame remayned
With her unworthy knight, who ill him entertayned.
VOL. III.

Whom when the salvage saw from daunger free,
Sitting beside his ladie there at ease,
He well remembred that the same was hee,
Which lately sought his lord for to displease:
Tho all in rage he on him streight did seaze,
As if he would in peeces him have rent;
And, were not that the prince did him appeaze,
He had not left one limbe of him unrent: [ment.
| But streight he held his hand at his commaundë-

Thus having all things well in peace ordayned,
The prince himselfe there all that night did rest;
Where him Blandina fayrely entertayned
With all the courteous glee and goodly feast
The which for him she could imagine best:
For well she knew the wayes to win good will
Of every wight, that were not too infest;
And how to please the minds of good and ill,
Through tempering of her words and lookes by
wondrous skill.

Yet were her words and lookes but false and fayned,
To some hid end to make more easie way,
Or to allure such fondlings whom she trayned
Into her trap unto their owne decay:
Thereto, when needed, she could weepe and pray,
And when her listed she could fawne and flatter;
Now smyling smoothly like to sommers day,
Now glooming sadly, so to cloke her matter;
Yet were her words but wynd, and all her tears but

water.

Whether such grace were given her by kynd,
As women wont their guilefull wits to guyde;
Or learnd the art to please, I doe not fynd:
This well I wote, that she so well applyde
Her pleasing tongue, that soon she pacifyde
The wrathfull prince, and wrought her husbands
Who nathëlesse, not therewith satisfyde, [peace:
His rancorous despight did not releasse,
Ne secretly from thought of fell revenge surceasse':

For all that night, the whiles the prince did rest
In carelesse couch not weeting what was ment,
He watcht in close awayt with weapons prest,
Willing to worke his villenous intent
On him, that had so shamefully him shent :
Yet durst he not for very cowardize
Effect the same, whylest all the night was spent.
The morrow next the prince did early rize,
And passed forth to follow his first enterprize,

CANTO VII.

Turpine is baffuld; his two knights
Doe gaine their treasons meed.
Fayre Mirabellaes punishment
For Loves disdaine decreed.

LIKE as the gentle hart itselfe bewrayes
In doing gentle deedes with franke delight,
Even so the baser mind itselfe displayes
In cancred malice and revengefull spight:
For to maligne, t' envie, t' use shifting slight,
Be arguments of a vile donghill mind;
Which, what it dare not doe by open might,
To worke by wicked treason wayes doth find,
By such discourteous deeds discovering his base kind,
X

That well appears in this discourteous knight,
The coward Turpine, whereof now I treat;
Who notwithstanding that in former fight
He of the prince his life received late,
Yet in his mind malitious and ingrate
He gan devize to be aveng'd anew

For all that shame, which kindled inward hate:
Therefore, so soone as he was out of vew,
Hemselfe in hast be arm'd, and did him fast pursew.

Well did he tract his steps as he did ryde,
Yet would not neare approch in daungers eye,
But kept aloofe for dread to be descryde,
Untill fit time and place he mote espy,
Where he mote worke him scath and villeny.
At last he met two knights to him unknowne,
The which were armed both agreeably,
And both combynd, whatever chaunce were blowne,
Betwixt them to divide and each to make his owne.

To whom false Turpine comming courteously,
To cloke the mischiefe which he inly ment,
Gan to complaine of great discourtesie,
Which a straunge knight, that neare afore him went,
Had doen to him, and his deare ladie shent;
Which if they would afford him ayde at need
For to avenge in time convenient,
They should accomplish both a knightly deed,
And for their paines obtaine of him a goodly meed.

The knights beleev'd that all he sayd was trew;
And, being fresh and full of youthly spright,
Were glad to heare of that adventure new,
In which they mote make triall of their might
Which never yet they had approv'd in fight,
And eke desirous of the offred meed :
Said then the one of them; "Where is that wight,
The which hath doen to thee this wrongfull deed,
That we may it avenge, and punish him with speed?"

"He rides," said Turpine, "there not farre afore,
With a wyld man soft footing by his syde;
That, if ye list to haste a litle more,
Ye may him overtake in timely tyde."
Eftsoones they pricked forth with forward pryde;
And, ere that litle while they ridden had,
The gentle prince not farre away they spyde,
Ryding a softly pace with portance sad,
Devizing of his love more then of daunger drad.

Then one of them aloud unto him cryde,
Bidding him turne againe; "False traytour knight,
Foule woman-wronger!"-for he him defyde.
With that they both at once with equall spight
Did bend their speares, and both with equall might
Against him ran, but th' one did misse his marke,
And being carried with his force forthright
Glaunst swiftly by; like to that heavenly sparke,
Which glyding through the ayre lights all the Hea-
vens darke.

But th' other, ayming better, did him smite
Full in the shield with so impetuous powre,
That all his launce in peeces shivered quite,
And scattered all about fell on the flowre:
But the stout prince with much more steddy stowre,
Full on his bever did him strike so sore,
That the cold steele through piercing did devowre
His vitall breath, and to the ground him bore,
Where still he bathed lay in his own bloody gore.

As when a cast of faulcons make their flight
At an herneshaw, that lyes aloft on wing,
The whyles they strike at him with heedlesse might
The warie foule his bill doth backward wring;
On which the first, whose force her first doth bring,
Herselfe quite through the bodie doth engore,
And falleth downe to ground like senselesse thing;
But th' other, not so swift as she before, [more.
Fayles of her souse, and passing by doth hurt no

By this the other, which was passed by,
Himselfe recovering, was return'd to fight;
Where when he saw his fellow lifelesse ly,
He much was daunted with so dismal sight;
Yet, nought abating of his former spight,
Let drive at him with so malitious mynd,
As if he would have passed through him quight:
But the steele-head no stedfast hold could fynd,
But glauncing by deceiv'd him of that he desynd.

Not so the prince; for his well-learned speare
Tooke surer hould, and from his horses backe
Above a launces length him forth did beare,
And gainst the cold hard earth so sore him strake,
That all his bones in peeces nigh he brake.
Where seeing him so lie, he left his steed,
And, to him leaping, vengeance thought to take
Of him, for all his former follies meed,
With flaming sword in hand his terror more to breed.

The fearfull swayne beholding death so nie
Cryde out aloud, for mercie, him to save;
In lieu whereof he would to him descrie
Great treason to him meant, his life to reave.
The prince soone hearkned, and his life forgave,
Then thus said he; "There is a straunger knight,
The which, for promise of great meed, us drave
To this attempt, to wreake his hid despight,
For that himselfe thereto did want sufficient might."

The prince much mused at such villenie, [meed;
And sayd; "Now sure ye well have earn'd your
For th' one is dead, and th' other soone shall die,
Unlesse to me thou hither bring with speed
The wretch that hyr'd you to this wicked deed."
He glad of life, and willing eke to wreake
The guilt on him which did this mischiefe breed,
Swore by his sword, that neither day nor weeke
He would surceasse, but him whereso he were would
secke.

So up he rose, and forth streightway he went
Backe to the place where Turpine late he lore;
There he him found in great astonishment,
To see him so bedight with bloodie gore
And griesly wounds, that him appalled sore.
Yet thus at length he said; "How now, sir Knight,
What meaneth this which here I see before?
How fortuneth this foule uncomely plight, [sight?"
So different from that which earst ye seem'd in

"Perdie," said he, " in evill houre it fell,
That ever I for meed did undertake
So hard a taske as life for hyre to sell ;
The which I earst adventur'd for your sake:
Witnesse the wounds, and this wide bloudie lake,
Which ye may see yet all about me steeme.
Therefore now yeeld, as ye did promise make,
My due reward, the which right well I deeme
I yearned have, that life so dearely did redeeme.”