"But where then is," quoth he halfe wrothfully,
"Where is the bootie, which therefore I bought,
That cursed caytive, my strong enemy,
That recreant knight, whose hated life I sought?
And where is eke your friend which halfe it ought?"
"He lyes," said he, " upon the cold bare ground,
Slayne of that errant knight with whom he fought;
Whom afterwards myselfe with many a wound
Did slay againe, as ye may see there in the stound."

Thereof false Turpin was full glad and faine,
And needs with him streight to the place would ryde,
Where he himselfe might see his foeman slaine;
For else his feare could not be satisfyde.
So, as they rode, he saw the way all dyde
With streames of bloud; which tracting by the traile,
Ere long they came, whenas in evill tyde
That other swayne, like ashes deadly pale,

Nathlesse, for all his speach, the gentle knight
Would not be tempted to such villenie,
Regarding more his faith which he did plight,
All were it to his mortall enemie,
Then to entrap him by false treacherie:
Great shame in lieges blood to be embrew'd!
Thus whylest they were debating diverslie,
The salvage forth out of the wood issew'd [vew'd.
Backe to the place, whereas his lord he sleeping
There when he saw those two so neare him stand,
He doubted much what mote their meaning bee;
And, throwing downe his load out of his hand,
(To weet, great store of forrest frute which hee
Had for his food late gathered from the tree)
Himselfe unto his weapon he betooke,
That was an oaken plant, which lately hee
Rent by the root; which he so sternly shooke,

Much did the craven seeme to mone his case,
That for his sake his deare life had forgone;
And, him bewayling with affection base,
Did counterfeit kind pittie where was none:
For where's no courage, there's no ruth nor mone.
Thence passing forth, not farre away he found
Whereas the prince himselfe lay all alone,
Loosely displayd upon the grassie ground, [swound.
Possessed of sweete sleepe that luld him soft in

Wearie of travell in his former fight,

He there in shade himselfe had layd to rest,
Having his armes and warlike things undight,
Fearelesse of foes that mote his peace molest;
The whyles his salvage page, that wont be prest,
Was wandred in the wood another way,
To doe some thing, that seemed to him best;
The whyles his lord in silver slomber lay,
Like to the evening starre adorn'd with deawy ray.

Whom whenas Turpin saw so loosely layd,
He weened well that he indeed was dead,
Like as that other knight to him had sayd:
But, when he nigh approcht, he mote aread
Plaine signes in him of life and livelihead.
Whereat much griev'd against that straunger knight,
That him too light of credence did mislead,
He would have backe retyred from that sight,
That was to him on Earth the deadliest despight.
But that same knight would not once let him start;
But plainely gan to him declare the case
Of all his mischiefe and late lucklesse smart;
How both he and his fellow there in place
Were vanquished, and put to foule disgrace;
And how that he, in lieu of life him lent,
Had vow'd unto the victor, him to trace
And follow through the world whereso he went,
Till that he him delivered to his punishment.

He, therewith much abashed and affrayd,
Began to tremble every limbe and vaine;
And, softly whispering him, entyrely prayd
T' advize him better then by such a traine
Him to betray unto a straunger swaine :
Yet rather counseld him contrárywize,
Sith he likewise did wrong by him sustaine,
To joyne with him and vengeance to devize,
Whylest time did offer meanes him sleeping to
prize.

Whereat the prince awaking, when he spyde
The traytour Turpin with that other knight,
He started up; and snatching neare his syde
His trustie sword, the servant of his might,
Like a fell lyon leaped to him light,
And his left hand upon his collar layd.
Therewith the cowheard, deaded with affright,
Feli flat to ground, ne word unto him sayd,
But, holding up his hands, with silence mercie prayd.

But he so full of indignation was,

That to his prayer nought he would incline,
But, as he lay upon the humbled gras,
His foot he set on his vile necke, in signe
Of servile yoke, that nobler harts repine.
Then, letting him arise like abiect thrall,
He gan to him obiect his haynous crime,
And to revile, and rate, and recreant call,
And lastly to despoyle of knightly bannerall.

And after all, for greater infamie,

He by the heeles him hung upon a tree,
And baffuld so, that all which passed by
The picture of his punishment might see,
And by the like ensample warned bee,
However they through treason doe trespasse.
But turne we now backe to that ladie free,
Whom late we left ryding upon an asse,
Led by a carle and foole which by her side did passe.

She was a ladie of great dignitie,
And lifted up to honorable place,
Famous through all the land of Faerie:
Though of meane parentage and kindred base,
Yet deckt with wondrous giftes of Natures grace,
That all men did her person much admire,
And praise the feature of her goodly face;
The beames whereof did kindle lovely fire

In th' harts of many a knight, and many a gentle squire:

But this coy damzell thought contráriwize,
That such proud looks would make her praysed more;
And that, the more she did all love despize,
The more would wretched lovers her adore.
What cared she who sighed for her sore,
Or who did wayle or watch the wearie night?
Let them that list their lucklesse lot deplore;
She was borne free, not bound to any wight,
And so would ever live, and love her own delight.

Through such her stubborne stifnesse and hard hart,
Many a wretch for want of remedie
Did languish long in life-consuming smart,
And at the last through dreary dolour die :
Whylest she, the ladie of her libertie,

Did boast her beautie had such soveraine might,
That with the onely twinckle of her eye
She could or save or spill whom she would hight:
What could the gods doe more, but doe it more
aright?

But loe! the gods, that mortall follies vew,
Did worthily revenge this maydens pride;
And, nought regarding her so goodly hew,
Did laugh at her that many did deride,
Whilest she did weepe, of no man mercifide:
For on a day, when Cupid kept his court,
As he is wont at each Saint Valentide,
Unto the which all lovers doe resort,

[report;

That of their loves successe they there may make

It fortun'd then, that when the roules were red,
In which the names of all Loves folke were fyled,
That many there were missing; which were ded,
Or kept in bands, or from their loves exyled,
Or by some other violence despoyled.
Which whenas Cupid heard, he wexed wroth;
And, doubting to be wronged or beguyled,
He bad his eyes to be unblindfold both,

That he might see his men, and muster them by oth.

Then found he many missing of his crew,
Which wont doe suit and service to his might;
Of whom what was becomen no man knew.
Therefore a iurie was impaneld streight
T'enquire of them, whether by force, or sleight,
Or their owne guilt, they were away convayd:
To whom foule Infamie and fell Despight
Gave evidence, that they were all betrayd
And murdred cruelly by a rebellious mayd.

Fayre Mirabella was her name, whereby
Of all those crymes she there indited was:
All which when Cupid heard, he by and by
In great displeasure wil'd a capias

Should issue forth t' attach that scornefull lasse.
The warrant straight was made, and therewithall
A baylieffe errant forth in post did passe,
Whom they by name there Portamore did call;
He which doth summon lovers to Loves iudgement

hall.

The damzell was attacht, and shortly brought
Unto the barre whereas she was arrayned:
But she thereto nould plead, nor answere ought,
Even for stubborne pride, which her restrayned:
So iudgement past, as is by law ordayned
In cases like: which when at last she saw,
Her stubborne hart, which love before disdayned,
Gan stoupe; and, falling downe with humble awe,
Cryde mercie, to abate the extremitie of law.

The sonne of Venus, who is myld by kynd,
But where he is provokt with peevishnesse,
Unto her prayers piteously enclynd,
And did the rigour of his doome represse;
Yet not so freely, but that nathëlesse
He unto her a penance did impose,

Which was, that through this worlds wyde wildernes
She wander should in companie of those,
Till she had sav'd so many loves as she did lose.

So now she had bene wandring two whole yeares
Throughout the world, in this uncomely case,
Wasting her goodly hew in heavie teares,
And her good dayes in dolorous disgrace;
Yet had she not in all these two yeares space
Saved but two; yet in two yeares before, [place,
Through her dispiteous pride, whilest love lackt
She had destroyed two and twenty more. [fore!
Aie me, how could her love make half amends there-

And now she was uppon the weary way,
Whenas the gentle squire, with faire serene,
Met her in such misseeming foule array;
The whiles that mighty man did her demeane
With all the evil termes and cruell meane
That he could make; and ecke that angry foole
Which follow'd her, with cursed hands uncleane
Whipping her horse, did with his smarting toole
Oft whip her dainty selfe, and much augment her
doole.

Ne ought it mote availe her to entreat
The one or th' other better her to use;
For both so wilfull were and obstinate
That all her piteous plaint they did refuse,
And rather did the more her beate and bruse:
But most the former villaine, which did lead
Her tyreling iade, was bent her to abuse;
Who, though she were with wearinesse nigh dead,
Yet would not let her lite, nor rest a little stead :

For he was sterne and terrible by nature,
And ecke of person huge and hideous,
Exceeding much the measure of mans stature,
And rather like a gyant monstruous:
For sooth he was descended of the hous
Of those old gyauts, which did warres darraine
Against the Heaven in order battailous;
And sib to great Orgolio, which was slaine
By Arthure, whenas Unas knight he did maintaine.

His lookes were dreadfull, and his fiery eies,
Like two great beacons, glared bright and wyde,
Glauncing askew, as if his enemies

He scorned in his overweening pryde;
And stalking stately, like a crane, did stryde
At every step uppon the tiptoes hie;
And, all the way he went, on every syde
He gaz'd about and stared horriblie,

As if he with his lookes would all men terrifie.

He wore no armour, ne for none did care,
As no whit dreading any living wight;
But in a iacket, quilted richly rare
Upon checklaton, he was straungely dight;
And on his head a roll of linnen plight,
Like to the Mores of Malaber, he wore,
With which his locks, as blacke as pitchy night,
Were bound about and voyded from before;
And in his hand a mighty yron club he bore.

[pride.

A salvage bull, whose cruell hornes doe threat
Desperate daunger, if he them assay,
Traceth his ground, and round about doth beat,
To spy where he may some advantage get,
The whiles the beast doth rage and loudly rore;
So did the squire, the whiles the carle did fret
And fume in his disdainefull mynd the more,
And oftentimes by Turmagant and Mahound swore.
Nathelesse so sharpely still he him pursewd,
That at advantage him at last he tooke,
When his foote slipt, (that slip he dearely rewd)
And with his yron club to ground him strooke;
Where still he lay, ne out of swoune awooke,
Till heavy hand the carle upon him layd,
And bound him fast: tho, when he up did looke
And saw himselfe captiv'd, he was dismayd,
Ne powre had to withstand, ne hope of any ayd.
Then up he made him rise, and forward fare,
Led in a rope which both his hands did bynd;
Ne ought that foole for pitty did him spare,
But with his whip him following behynd
Him often scourg'd, and forst his feete to fynd:
And otherwhiles with bitter mockes and mowes
He would him scorne, that to his gentle mynd
Was much more grievous then the others blowes:
Words sharpely wound, but greatest griefe of scorn-
ing growes.f

The faire Serena, when she saw him fall
Under that villaines club, then surely thought
That slaine he was, or made a wretched thrall,
And fled away with all the speede she mought
To seeke for safety; which long time she sought;
And past through many perils by the way,
Ere she againe to Calepine was brought:
The which discourse as now I must delay,
Till Mirabellaes fortunes I doe further say.

CANTO VIII.

Prince Arthure overcomes Disdaine; Quites Mirabell from dreed: Serena, found of salvages,

By Calepine is freed.

YE gentle ladies, in whose soveraine powre
Love hath the glory of his kingdome left,
And th' hearts of men, as your eternall dowre,
In yron chaines, of liberty bereft,
Delivered hath unto your hands by gift;
Be well aware how ye the same doe use,
That pride doe not to tyranny you lift;
Least, if men you of cruelty accuse,

He from you take that chiefedome which ye doe abuse.

And as ye soft and tender are by kynde,
Adornd with goodly gifts of beauties grace,
So be ye soft and tender eeke in mynde;
But cruelty and hardnesse from you chace,
That all your other praises will deface,

And from you turne the love of men to hate:
Ensample take of Mirabellaes case,

Who from the high degree of happy state
Fell into wretched woes, which she repented late.

Who after thraldome of the gentle squire,
Which she beheld with lamentable eye,
Was touched with compassion entire,
And much lamented his calamity,
That for her sake fell into misery ;
Which booted nought for prayers nor for threat
To hope for to release or mollify;

For aye the more that she did them entreat,
The more they him misust, and cruelly did beat.

So as they forward on their
way did
pas,
Him still reviling and afflicting sore,
They met prince Arthure with sir Enias,
(That was that courteous knight, whom he before
Having subdew'd yet did to life restore ;)
To whom as they approcht, they gan augment
Their cruelty, and him to punish more,
Scourging and haling him more vehement;
As if it them should grieve to see his punishment.

The squire himselfe, whenas he saw his lord
The witnesse of his wretchednesse in place,
Was much asham'd that with an hempen cord
He like a dog was led in captive case,
And did his head for bashfulnesse abase,
As loth to see or to be seene at all;
Shame would be hid: but whenas Enias
Beheld two such, of two such villaines thrall,
His manly mynde was much emmoved therewithall;

And to the prince thus sayd; "See you, sir Knight,
The greatest shame that ever eye yet saw,
Yond lady and her squire with foule despight
Abusde, against all reason and all law,
Without regard of pitty or of awe!
See! how they doe that squire beat and revile!
See how they doe the lady hale and draw!
But, if ye please to lend me leave awhile,

I will them soone acquite, and both of blame assoile."

The prince assented; and then he, streightway
Dismounting light, his shield about him threw,
With which approaching thus he gan to say;
"Abide, ye caytive treachetours untrew,
That have with treason thralled unto you
These two, unworthy of your wretched bands;
And now your crime with cruelty pursew:
Abide, and from them lay your loathly hands;
Or else abide the death that hard before you stands."

The villaine stayd not aunswer to invent;
But, with his yron club preparing way,
His mindes sad message backe unto him sent;
The which descended with such dreadfull sway,
That seemed nought the course thereof could stay,
No more then lightening from the lofty sky:
Ne list the knight the powre thereof assay,
Whose doome was death; but, lightly slipping by,
Unwares defrauded his intended destiny:

And, to requite him with the like againe,
With his sharpe sword he fiercely at him flew,
And strooke so strongly, that the carle with paine
Saved himselfe but that he there him slew;
Yet sav'd not so, but that the blood it drew,
And gave his foe good hope of victory:
Who, therewith flesht, upon him set anew,
And with the second stroke thought certainely
To have supplyde the first, and paide the usury.

But Fortune aunswered not unto his call;
For, as his hand was heaved up on hight,
The villaine met him in the middle fall,

And with his club bet backe his brond-yron bright
So forcibly, that with his owne hands might
Rebeaten backe upon himselfe againe
He driven was to ground in selfe despight;
From whence ere he recovery could gaine,
He in his necke had set his foote with fell disdaine.

With that the foole, which did that end awayte,
Came running in; and, whilest on ground he lay,
Laide heavy hands on him and held so strayte,
That downe he kept him with his scornefull sway,
So as he could not weld him any way:
The whiles that other villaine went about
Him to have bound and thrald without delay;
The whiles the foole did him revile and flout,
Threatning to yoke them two and tame their cor-
age stout.

As when a sturdy ploughman with his hynde

By strength have overthrowne a stubborne steare,
They downe him hold, and fast with cords do bynde,
Till they him force the buxome yoke to beare:
So did these two this knight oft tug and teare.
Which when the prince beheld, there standing by,
He left his lofty steede to aide him neare;
And, buckling soone himselfe, gan fiercely fly
Upon that carle, to save his friend from ieopardy.

The villaine, leaving him unto his mate
To be captiv'd and handled as he list,
Himselfe addrest unto this new debate,
And with his club him all about so blist,
That he which way to turne him scarcely wist:
Sometimes aloft he layd, sometimes alow,
Now here, now there, and oft him neare he mist;
So doubtfully, that hardly one could know
Whether more wary were to give or ward the blow.

Then bursting forth in teares, which gushed fast
Like many water-streams, awhile she stayd;
Till the sharpe passion being overpast,
Her tongue to her restord, then thus she sayd;
"Nor Heavens, nor men, can me most wretched mayd
Deliver from the doome of my desart,
The which the god of love hath on me layd,
And damned to endure this direfull smart,
For penaunce of my proud and hard rebellious hart.

"In prime of youthly yeares, when first the flowre
Of beauty gan to bud, and bloosme delight;
And Nature me endu'd with plenteous dowre
Of all her gifts, that pleasde each living sight;
I was belov'd of many a gentle knight,
And sude and sought with all the service dew:
Full many a one for me deepe ground and sigh't,
And to the dore of death for sorrow drew,
Complayning out on me that would not on them rew.

"But let them love that list, or live or die;
Me list not die for any lovers doole:
Ne list me leave my loved libertie
To pitty him that list to play the foole:
To love myself I learned had in schoole.
Thus I triumphed long in lovers paine,
And, sitting carelesse on the scorners stoole,
Did laugh at those that did lament and plaine:
But all is now repayd with interest againe.

"For loe! the winged god, that woundeth harts,
Causde me be called to accompt therefore;
And for revengement of those wrongfull smarts,
Which I to others did inflict afore,

Addeem'd me to endure this penaunce sore;
That in this wize, and this unmeete array,
With these two lewd companions, and no more,
Disdaine and Scorne, I through the world shouldstray,
Till I have sav'd so many as I earst did slay.”

"Certes,” sayd then the prince, “the god is iust,
That taketh vengeaunce of his peoples spoile:
For were no law in love, but all that lust
Might them oppresse, and painefully turmoile,
His kingdome would continue but a while.
But tell me, lady, wherefore doe you beare
This bottle thus before you with such toile,
And eeke this wallet at your backe arreare,
That for these carles to carry much more comely
were?"

"Here in this bottle," sayd the sory mayd,
"I put the tears of my contrition,
Till to the brim I have it full defrayd:
And in this bag, which I behinde me don,
I put repentaunce for things past and gon.
Yet is the bottle leake, and bag so torne,
That all which I put in fals out anon,
And is behinde me trodden downe of Scorne,
Who mocketh all my paine, and laughs the more
I mourn."

The infant hearkned wisely to her tale,
And wondred much at Cupids iudgment wise,
That could so meekly make proud hearts avale,
And wreake himselfe on them that him despise.
Then suffred he Disdaine up to arise,
Who was not able up himselfe to reare,
By meanes his leg, through his late lucklesse prise,
Was crackt in twaine, but by his foolish feare
Was holpen up, who him supported standing neare.

But being up he lookt againe aloft,
As if he never had received fall;
And with sterne eye-brows stared at him oft,
As if he would have daunted him withall:
And standing on his tiptoes, to seeme tall,
Downe on his golden feete he often gazed,
As if such pride the other could apall;
Who was so far from being ought amazed,
That he his lookes despised, and his boast dispraized.

Then turning backe unto that captive thrall,
Who all this while stood there beside them bound,
Unwilling to be knowne or seene at all,
He from those bands weend him to have unwound;
But when approaching neare he plainely found
It was his owne true groome, the gentle squire,
He thereat wext exceedingly astound,
And him did oft embrace, and oft admire,
Ne could with seeing satisfie his great desire.

"Ah! nay, sir Knight," said she, "it may not be
But that I needes must by all meanes fulfill
This penaunce, which enioyned is to me,
Least unto me betide a greater ill:

Yet no lesse thankes to you for your good will."
So humbly taking leave she turnd aside:
But Arthure with the rest went onward still
On his first quest, in which did him betide
A great adventure, which did him from them devide.

But first it falleth me by course to tell
Of faire Serena; who, as earst you heard,
When first the gentle squire at variaunce fell
With those two carles, fled fast away, afeard
Of villany to be to her inferd:

So fresh the image of her former dread,
Yet dwelling in her eye, to her appeard,
That every foote did tremble which did tread,
And every body two, and two she foure did read.

Through hils and dales, through bushes and through breres,

Long thus she fled, till that at last she thought
Herselfe now past the perill of her feares:
Then looking round about, and seeing nought
Which doubt of daunger to her offer mought,
She from her palfrey lighted on the plaine;
Of her long travell and turmoyling paine;
And, sitting downe, herselfe awhile bethought
And often did of love, and oft of lucke, complaine.

And evermore she blamed Calepine,
The good sir Calepine, her owne true knight,
As th' onely author of her wofull tine;
For being of his love to her so light,
As her to leave in such a piteous plight:
Yet never turtle truer to his make,
Then he was tride unto his lady bright:
Who all this while endured for her sake
Great perill of his life, and restlesse paines did take.

Tho whenas all her plaints she had displayd,
And well disburdened her engrieved brest,
Upon the grasse herselfe adowne she layd;
Where, being tyrde with travell, and opprest
With sorrow, she betooke herselfe to rest:
There whilest in Morpheus bosome safe she lay,
Fearelesse of ought that mote her peace molest,
False Fortune did her safety betray

Unto a strange mischaunce, that menac'd her decay.