"A shamefull use as ever I did heare," Sayd Calidore, "and to be overthrowne. But by what meanes did they at first it reare, And for what cause? tell if thou have it knowne." Sayd then that squire; "The lady, which doth owne This castle, is by name Briana hight; Then which a prouder lady liveth none: She long time hath deare lov'd a doughty knight, And sought to win his love by all the meanes she might.
"His name is Crudor; who, through high disdaine And proud despight of his selfe-pleasing mynd, Refused hath to yeeld her love againe, Untill a mantle she for him doe fynd
With beards of knights and locks of ladies lynd: Which to provide, she hath this castle dight, And therein hath a seneschall assynd, Cald Maleffort, a man of mickle might, Who executes her wicked will with worse despight.
"He, this same day as I that way did come With a faire damzell my beloved deare, In execution of her lawlesse doome Did set uppon us flying both for feare; For little bootes against him hand to reare: Me first he tooke unhable to withstond, And whiles he her pursued every where, Till his returne unto this tree he bond;
Ne wote I surely whether he her yet have fond."
Thus whiles they spake they heard a ruefull shrieke Of one loud crying, which they streightway ghest That it was she the which for helpe did seeke. Tho, looking up unto the cry to lest, They saw that carle from farre with hand unblest Hayling that mayden by the yellow heare, That all her garments from her snowy brest, And from her head her lockes he nigh did teare, Ne would he spare for pitty, nor refraine for feare.
Which haynous sight when Calidore beheld, Eftsoones he loosd that squire, and so him left With hearts dismay and inward dolour queld, For to pursue that villaine, which had reft That piteous spoile by so iniurious theft: Whom overtaking, loude to him he cryde; "Leave, faytor, quickely that misgotten weft To him that hath it better iustifyde,
[defyde." And turne thee soone to him of whom thou art
Who, hearkning to that voice, himselfe upreard, And, seeing him so fiercely towardes make, Against him stoutly ran, as nought afeard, But rather more enrag'd for those words sake; And with sterne count'naunce thus unto him spake; "Art thou the caytive that defyest me, And for this mayd, whose party thou doest take, Wilt give thy beard, though it but little bee? Yet shall it not her lockes for raunsome fro me free."
With that he fiercely at him flew, and layd On hideous strokes with most importune might, That oft he made him stagger as unstayd, And oft recuile to shunne his sharpe despight: But Calidore, that was well skild in fight, Him long forbore, and still his spirite spar'd, Lying in waite how him he damadge might: But when he felt him shrinke, and come to ward, He greater grew, and gan to drive at him more hard.
Like as a water-streame, whose swelling sourse Shall drive a mill, within strong bancks is pent, And long restrayned of his ready course; So soone as passage is unto him lent, Breakes forth, and makes his way more violent; Such was the fury of sir Calidore: When once he felt his foe-man to relent, He fiercely him pursu'd, and pressed sore; Who as he still decayd, so he encreased more.
The heavy burden of whose dreadfull might Whenas the carle no longer could sustaine, His heart gan faint, and streight he tooke his flight Toward the castle, where, if need constraine, His hope of refuge used to remaine: Whom Calidore perceiving fast to flie, He him pursu'd and chaced through the plaine, That he for dread of death gan loude to crie Unto the ward to open to him hastilie.
They, from the wall him seeing so aghast, The gate soone opened to receive him in ; But Calidore did follow him so fast, That even in the porch he him did win, And cleft his head asunder to his chin: The carkasse tumbling downe within the dore Did choke the entraunce with a lumpe of sin, That it could not be shut; whilest Calidore Did enter in, and slew the porter on the flore. With that the rest the which the castle kept About him flockt, and hard at him did lay; But he them all from him full lightly swept, As doth a steare, in heat of sommers day, With his long taile the bryzes brush away. Thence passing forth into the hall he came, Where of the lady selfe in sad dismay He was ymett, who with uncomely shame Gan him salute,and fowle upbrayd with faultyblame:
"False traytor knight," said she, "no knight at all, But scorne of armes! that hast with guilty hand Murdered my men, and slaine my seneschall; Now comest thou to rob my house unmand, And spoile myselfe, that cannot thee withstand? Yet doubt thou not, but that some better knight Then thou, that shall thy treason understand, Will it avenge, and pay thee with thy right: And if none do, yet shame shall thee with shame requight."
Much was the knight abashed at that word; Yet answer'd thus; "Not unto me the shame, But to the shamefull doer it afford. Bloud is no blemish; for it is no blame To punish those that doe deserve the same; But they that breake bands of civilitie, And wicked customes make, those doe defame Both noble armes and gentle curtesie: No greater shame to man then inhumanitic. "Then doe yourselfe, for dread of shame, forgoe This evill manner which ye here maintaine, And doe instead thereof mild curt'sie showe To all that passe: that shall you glory gaine More then his love, which thus ye seeke t' obtaine." Wherewith all full of wrath she thus replyde; "Vile recreant! know that I doe much disdaine Thy courteous lore, that doest my love deride, Who scornes thy ydle scoffe, and bids thec be de- fyde."
"To take defiaunce at a ladies word," Quoth he, "I hold it no indignity; But were he here, that would it with his sword Abett, perhaps he mote it deare aby." "Cowherd," quoth she, "were not that thou wouldst Ere he doe come, he should be soone in place." "If I doe so," sayd he, "then liberty Ileave to you for aye me to disgrace [deface." With all those shames, that erst ye spake me to
With that a dwarfe she cald to her in hast, And taking from her hand a ring of gould (A privy token which betweene them past) Bad him to flie with all the speed he could To Crudor; and desire him that he would Vouchsafe to reskue her against a knight, Who through strong powre had now herself in hould Having late slaine her seneschall in fight, And all her people murdred with outragious might:
The dwarfe his way did bast, and went all night: But Calidore did with her there abyde The comming of that so much threatned knight; Where that discourteous dame with scornfull pryde And fowle entreaty him indignifyde, That yron heart it hardly could sustaine : Yet he, that could his wrath full wisely guyde, Did well endure her womanish disdaine,
And did himselfe from fraile impatience refraine,
The morrow next, before the lampe of light Above the Earth upreard his flaming head, The dwarfe, which bore that message to her knight, Brought aunswere backe, that ere he tasted bread He would her suceour, and alive or dead Her foe deliver up into her hand: Therefore he wil'd her doe away all dread; And, that of him she mote assured stand, He sent to her his basenet as a faithfull band.
Thereof full blyth the ladie streight became, And gan t'augment her bitternesse much more: Yet no whit more appalled for the same, Ne ought dismayed was sir Calidore;
But rather did more chearefull seeme therefore: And, having soone his armes about him dight, Did issue forth to meete his foe afore; Where long he stayed not, whenas a knight
Nathlesse at length himselfe he did upreare In lustlesse wise; as if against his will, Ere he had slept his fill, he wakened were, And gan to stretch his limbs; which feeling ill Of his late fall, awhile he rested still: But, when he saw his foe before in vew, He shooke off luskishnesse; and, courage chill Kindling afresh, gan battell to renew, [sew. To prove if better foote then horsebacke would en-
There then began a fearefull cruell fray Betwixt them two for maystery of might: For both were wondrous practicke in that play, And passing well expert in single fight, And both inflam'd with furious despight; Which as it still encreast, so still increast Their cruell strokes and terrible affright; Ne once for ruth their rigour they releast, Ne once to breath awhile their angers tempest ceast.
Thus long they trac'd and traverst to and fro, And tryde all waies how each mote entrance make Into the life of his malignant foe;
They hew'd their helmes, and plates asunder brake, As they had potshares bene; for nought mote slake Their greedy vengeaunces but goary blood; That at the last like to a purple lake
Of bloudy gore congeal'd about them stood, Which from their riven sides forth gushed like a flood.
At length it chaunst that both their hands on hie At once did heave with all their powre and might, Thinking the utmost of their force to trie, And prove the finall fortune of the fight; But Calidore, that was more quicke of sight And nimbler-handed then his enemie, Prevented him before his stroke could light, And on the helmet smote him formerlie, [militie : That made him stoupe to ground with meeke hu-
And, ere he could recover foote againe, He following that faire advantage fast His stroke redoubled with such might and maine, That him upon the ground he groveling cast; And leaping to him light would have unlast His helme, to make unto his vengeance way: Who, seeing in what daunger he was plast, Cryde out; "Ah mercie, sir! doe me not slay,
He spide come pricking on with all his powre and But save my life, which lot before your foot doth
Well weend he streight that he should be the same Which tooke in hand her quarrell to maintaine; Ne stayd to aske if it were he by name, But coucht his speare, and ran at him amaine. They bene ymett in middest of the plaine With so fell fury and dispiteous forse, That neither could the others stroke sustaine, But rudely rowld to ground both man and horse, Neither of other taking pitty nor remorse.
But Calidore uprose againe full light, Whiles yet his foe lay fast in sencelesse sound; Yet would he not him hurt although he might: For shame he weend a sleeping wight to wound. But when Briana saw that drery stound, There where she stood uppon the castle wall, She deem'd him sure to have bene dead on ground; And made such piteous mourning therewithall, That from the battlements she ready seem'd to fall.
With that his mortall hand awhile he stayd; And, having somewhat calm'd his wrathfull heat With goodly patience, thus he to him sayd; "And is the boast of that proud ladies threat, That menaced me from the field to beat, Now brought to this? By this now may ye learne Strangers no more so rudely to entreat; But put away proud looke and usage sterne, The which shal nought to you but foule dishonour
"For nothing is more blamefull to a knight, That cout'sie doth as well as armes professe, However strong and fortunate in fight, Then the reproch of pride and cruelnesse : In vaine he seeketh others to suppresse, Who hath not learnd himselfe first to subdew: All flesh is frayle and full of ficklenesse, Subiect to fortunes chance, still chaunging new; What haps to day to me to morrow may to you,
"Who will not mercie unto others shew, How can he mercie ever hope to have? To pay each with his owne is right and dew: Yet since ye mercie now doe need to crave, I will it graunt, your hopelesse life to save, With these conditions which I will propound: First, that ye better shall yourselfe behave Unto all errant knights, whereso on ground; Next, that ye ladies ayde in every stead and stound."
The wretched man, that all this while did dwell In dread of death, his heasts did gladly heare, And promist to performe his precept well, And whatsoever else he would requere. So, suffring him to rise, he made him sweare By his owne sword, and by the crosse thereon, To take Briana for his loving fere Withouten dowre or composition;
But to release his former foule condition.
All which accepting, and with faithfull oth Bynding himselfe most firmely to obay, He up arose, however liefe or loth, And swore to him true féaltie for aye. Then forth he cald from sorrow full dismay The sad Briana which all this beheld; Who comming forth yet full of late affray Sir Calidore upcheard, and to her teld
All this accord to which he Crudor had compeld.
Whereof she now more glad then sory earst, All overcome with infinite affect For his exceeding courtesie, that pearst Her stubborne hart with inward deepe effect, Before his feet herselfe she did proiect; And him adoring as her lives deare lord, With all due thankes and dutifull respect, Herselfe acknowledg'd bound for that accord, By which he had to her both life and love restord.
So all returning to the castle glad, Most joyfully she them did entertaine; Where goodly glee and feast to them she made, To shew her thankefull mind and meaning faine, By all the meanes she mote it best explaine: And, after all, unto sir Calidore
She freely gave that castle for his paine, And herselfe bound to him for evermore;
So wondrously now chaung'd from that she was afore.
But Calidore himselfe would not retaine Nor land nor fee for hyre of his good deede, But gave them streight unto that squire againe, Whom from her seneschall he lately freed, And to his damzell, as their rightfull meed For recompence of all their former wrong: There he remaind with them right well agreed, Till of his wounds he wexed hole and strong; And then to his first quest he passed forth along.
Calidore sees young Tristram slay A proud discourteous knight: He makes him squire, and of him learnes His state and present plight.
WHAT vertue is so fitting for a knight, Or for a ladie whom a knight should love, As curtesie; to beare themselves aright To all of each degree as doth behove? For whether they be placed high above Or low beneath, yet ought they well to know Their good; that none them rightly may reprove Of rudenesse for not yeelding what they owe: Great skill it is such duties timely to bestow.
Thereto great helpe dame Nature selfe doth lend: For some so goodly gratious are by kind, That every action doth them much commend, And in the eyes of men great liking find; Which others that have greater skill in mind, Though they enforce themselves, cannot attaine: For everie thing, to which one is inclin'd, Doth best become and greatest grace doth gaine: Yet praise likewise deserve good thewes enforst with paine.
That well in courteous Calidore appeares; Whose every act and deed, that he did say, Was like enchantment, that through both the eyes And both the eares did steale the hart away. He now againe is on his former way To follow his first quest, whenas he spyde A tall young man, from thence not farre away, Fighting on foot, as well he him descryde, Against an armed knight that did on horsebacke ryde.
And them beside a ladie faire he saw Standing alone on foote in foule array; To whom himselfe he hastily did draw To weet the cause of so uncomely fray, And to depart them, if so be he may: But, ere he came in place, that youth had kild That armed knight, that low on ground he lay; Which when he saw, his hart was inly child With great amazement, and bis thought with won- der fild.
Him stedfastly he markt, and saw to bee A goodly youth of amiable grace,
Yet but a slender slip, that scarse did see Yet seventeene yeares, but tail and faire of face, That sure he deem'd him borne of noble race: All in a woodmans iacket he was clad Of Lincolne greene, belayd with silver lace; And on his head an hood with aglets sprad, And by his side his hunters horne he hanging had.
Buskins he wore of costliest cordwayne, Pinckt upon gold, and paled part per part, As then the guize was for each gentle swayne: In his right hand he held a trembling dart, Whose fellow he before had sent apart; And in his left he held a sharpe bore-speare, With which he wont to launch the salvage hart Of many a lyon and of many a beare,
That first unto his hand in chase did happen neare.
Whom Calidore awhile well having vewed, [swaine! | Of all which whenas she could nought deny,
At length bespake; "What meanes this, gentle Why hath thy hand too bold itselfe embrewed In blood of knight, the which by thee is slaine, By thee no knight: which armes impugneth plaine!" "Certes," said he, "loth were I to have broken The law of armes; yet breake it should againe, Rather then let myselfe of wight be stroken, So long as these two armes were able to be wroken.
"For not I him, as this his ladie here May witnesse well, did offer first to wrong, Ne surely thus unarm'd I likely were; But he me first through pride and puissance strong Assayld, not knowing what to armes doth long." "Perdie great blame," then said sir Calidore, "For armed knight a wight unarm'd to wrong: But then aread, thou gentle chyld, wherefore Betwixt you two began this strife and sterne uprore." "That shall I sooth," said he, "to you declare. I, whose unryper yeares are yet unfit For thing of weight or worke of greater care, Doe spend my dayes and bend my carelesse wit To salvage chace, where I thereon may hit In all this forrest and wyld woodie raine: Where, as this day I was enraunging it,
I chaunst to meete this knight who there lyes slaine, Together with this ladie, passing on the plaine.
"The knight, as ye did see, on horsebacke was, And this his ladie, that him ill became, On her faire feet by his horse-side did pas Through thicke and thin, unfit for any dame: Yet not content, more to increase his shame, Whenso she lagged, as she needs mote so, He with his speare (that was to him great blame) Would thumpe her forward and inforce to goe, Weeping to him in vaine and making piteous woe.
"Which when I saw, as they me passed by, Much was I moved in indignant mind, And gan to blame him for such cruelty Towards a ladie, whom with usage kind He rather should have taken up behind. Wherewith he wroth and full of proud disdaine Tooke in foule scorne that I such fault did find, And me in lieu thereof revil'd againe, Threatning to chastize me, as doth t'a chyld pertaine.
"Which I no lesse disdayning, backe returned His scornefull taunts unto his teeth againe, That he streightway with haughtie choler burned, And with his speare strooke me one stroke or twaine; Which I, enforst to beare though to my paine, Cast to requite; and with a slender dart, Fellow of this I beare, throwne not in vaine, Strooke him, as seemeth, underneath the hart, That through the wound his spirit shortly did de- part."
But cleard that stripling of th' imputed blame; Sayd then sir Calidore; "Neither will I Him charge with guilt, but rather doe quite clame: For, what he spake, for you he spake it, dame; And what he did, he did himselfe to save: [shame: Against both which that knight wrought knightlesse For knights and all men this by nature have, Towards all womenkind them kindly to behave,
"But, sith that he is gone irrevocable, Please it you, ladie, to us to aread What cause could make him so dishonourable, To drive you so on foot, unfit to tread And lackey by him, gainst all womanhead." "Certes, sir Knight," sayd she, "ful loth I were To rayse a lyving blame against the dead: But, since it me concernes myselfe to clere, I will the truth discover as it chaunst whylere. "This day, as he and I together roade. Upon our way to which we weren bent, We chaunst to come foreby a covert glade Within a wood, whereas a ladie gent Sate with a knight in ioyous iolliment Of their franke loves, free from all gealous spyes: Faire was the ladie sure, that mote content. An hart not carried with too curious eyes, And unto him did shew all lovely courtesyes.
"Whom when my knight did see so lovely faire, He inly gan her lover to envy,
And wish that he part of his spoyle might share: Whereto whenas my presence he did spy To be a let, he bad me by and by For to alight but, whenas I was loth My loves owne part to leave so suddenly, He with strong hand down from his steed me throw'th, [streight go'th. And with presumpteous powre against that knight
"Yet since he was not presently in plight Her to defend, or his to iustifie, he him requested, as he was a knight, To lend him day his better right to trie, Or stay till he his armes, which were thereby, Might lightly fetch: but he was fierce and whot, Ne time would give, nor any termes aby, But at him flew, and with his speare him smot; From which to thinke to save himselfe it booted not..
"Meane while his ladie, which this outrage saw, Whilest they together for the quarrey strove, Into the covert did herselfe withdraw, And closely hid herselfe within the grove. My knight hers soone, as seemes, to daunger drove And left sore wounded: but, when her he mist, He woxe halfe mad; and in that rage gan rove And range through all the wood, whereso he wist She hidden was, and sought her so long as him list.
"But, whenas her he by no meanes could find, After long search and chauff he turned backe Unto the place where me he left behind: There gan he me to curse and ban, for lacke Of that faire bootie, and with bitter wracke To wreake on me the guilt of his owne wrong: Of all which I yet glad to beare the packe Strove to appease him, and perswaded long; But still his passion grew moré violent and strong.
“Then, as it were t' avenge his wrath on mee, When forward we should fare, he flat refused To take me up (as this young man did see) Upon his steed, for no iust cause accused, But forst to trot on foot, and foule misused, Pounching me with the butt-end of his speare, In vaine complayning to be so abused; For he regarded neither playut nor teare, [heare. Bút more enforst my paine, the more my plaints to
"So passed we, till this young man us met; And being moor'd with pittie of my plight Spake, as was meete, for ease of my regret : Whereof befell what now is in your sight." "Now sure," then said sir Calidore," and right Me seemes, that him befell by his owne fault: Whoever thinkes through confidence of might, Or through support of count'nance proud and hault, To wrong the weaker, oft falles in his owne assault."
Then turning backe unto that gentle boy, Which had himselfe so stoutly well acquit; Seeing his face so lovely sterne and coy, And hearing th' answeres of his pregnant wit, He praysd it much, and much admyred it; That sure he weened him born of noble blood, With whom those graces did so goodly fit: And, when he long had him beholding stood, He burst into these wordes, as to him seemed good;
"Faire gentle swayne, and yet as stout as fayre, That in these woods amongst the nymphs dost wonne, Which daily may to thy sweete lookes repayre, As they are wont unto Latonaes sonne 'After his chace on woodie Cynthus donne; Well may I certes such an one thee read, As by thy worth thou worthily hast wonne, Or surely borne of some heroicke sead, That in thy face appeares and gratious goodlyhead.
"But, should it not displease thee it to tell, (Unlesse thou in these woods thyselfe conceale For love amongst the woodie gods to dwell,) I would thyselfe require thee to reveale; For deare affection and unfayned zeale Which to thy noble personage I beare, And wish thee grow in worship and great weale: For, since the day that armes I first did reare, I never saw in any greater hope appeare."
To whom then thus the noble youth; "May be, Sir Knight, that, by discovering my estate, Harme may arise unweeting unto me; Nathelesse, sith ye so courteous seemed late, To you I will not feare it to relate. Then wote ye that I am a Briton borne, Sonne of a king, (however thorough fate Or fortune I my countrie have forlone,
"And Tristram is my name; the onely heire Of good king Meliogras which did rayne In Cornewale, till that he through lives despeire Untimely dyde, before I did attaine
Ripe yeares of reason, my right to maintaine: After whose death his brother, seeing mee An infant, weake a kingdome to sustaine, Upon him tooke the roiall high degree,
And sent me, where him list, instructed for to bee.
"The widow queene my mother, which then hight Faire Emiline, conceiving then great feare Of my fraile safetie, resting in the might Of him that did the kingly scepter beare, Whose gealous dread induring not a peare Is wont to cut off all that doubt may breed; Thought best away me to remove somewhere Into some forrein land, whereas no need Of dreaded daunger might his doubtfull humor feed. "So, taking counsell of a wise man red, She was by him adviz'd to send me quight Out of the countrie wherein I was bred, The which the Fertile Lionesse is hight, Into the land of Faerie, where no wight Should weet of me, nor worke me any wrong: To whose wise read she hearkning sent me streight Into this land, where I have wond thus long [strong. Since I was ten yeares old, now grown to stature
"All which my daies I have not lewdly spent, Nor spilt the blossome of my tender yeares In ydlesse; but, as was convenient, Have trayned bene with many noble feres In gentle thewes and such like seemly leres: Mongst which my most delight hath alwaies been To hunt the salvage chace, amongst my peres, Of all that raungeth in the forrest greene, Of which none is to me unknowne that ev'r was seene.
"Ne is there hauke which mantleth her on pearch, Whether high towring or accoasting low, But I the measure of her flight doe search, And all her pray and all her diet know: Such be our ioyes which in these forrests grow: Onely the use of armes, which most I ioy, And fitteth most for noble swayne to know, I have not tasted yet; yet past a boy, And being now high time these strong ioynts to
"Therefore, good sir, sith now occasion fit Doth fall, whose like hereafter seldome may, Let me this crave, unworthy though of it, That ye will make me squire without delay, That from henceforth in batteilous array
I may beare armes, and learne to use them right; The rather, since that fortune hath this day Given to me the spoile of this dead knight, These goodly gilden armes which I have won in fight."
All which when well sir Calidore had heard, Him much more now, then earst, he gan admire For the rare hope which in his yeares appear'd, And thus replide; "Faire chyld, the high desire To love of armes, which in you doth aspire, I may not certes without blame denie; But rather wish that some more noble hire
And lost the crowne which should my head by right | (Though none more noble then is chevalrie)
I had, you to reward with greater dignitie."
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