Eftsoones she flew unto his fearelesse hand,
And there a piteous ditty new deviz’d,
As if she would have made him understand
His sorrowes cause to be of her despis'd;
Whom when she saw in wretched weeds disguiz'd,
Whith heary glib deform'd, and meiger face,
Like ghost late risen from his grave agryz'd,
She knew him not, but pittied much his case,
And wisht it were in her to doe him any grace.
XIII.
He her beholding at her feet downe fell,
And kist the ground on which her sole did tread,
And washt the same with water, which did well
From his moist eies, and like two streames procead;
Yet spake no word, whereby she might aread
What mister wight he was, or what he ment;
But as one daunted with her presence dread,
Onely few ruefull lookes unto her sent
As messengers of his true meaning and intent.
XIV.
Yet nathemore his meaning she ared,
But wondred much at his so selcouth case,
And by his person's secret seemlyhed,
Well weend that he had beene some man of place, Before misfortune did his hew deface:
That being mov'd with ruth, she thus bespake; "Ah! wofull Man! what heavens hard disgrace, "Or wrath of cruell wight on thee ywrake,
"Or selfe-disliked life, doth thee thus wretched make?
*If Heaven, then none may it redresse or blame, "Sith to his powre we all are subiect borne, "If wrathfull wight, then fowle rebuke and shame "Be theirs that have so cruell thee forlorne ;
But if through inward griefe or wilfull scorne "Of life it be, then better doe advise ; "For he whose daies in wilfull woe are worne, "The grace of his Creator doth despise, [dise." "That will not use his gifts for thanklesse nigar
When so he heard her say, eftsøones he brake His sodaine silence which he long had pent, And sighing inly deepe, her thus bespake "Then have they all themselves against me bent; * For Heaven, first author of my languishment, Envying my too great felicity,
"Did closely with a cruell one consent
To cloud my daies in dolefull misery,
"And make me loath this life, still longing for to die. XVII.
Ne any but yourself, O dearest dred! “Hath done this wrong, to wreake on worthlesse "Your high displesure, through misdecming bred;
That when your pleasure is to deeme aright,
"Ye may redresse, and me restore to light."
Which sory words her mightie hart did mate
With mild regard to see his ruefull plight,
That her in-burning wrath she gan abate,
And him receiv'd againe to former favours state.
Volume IV.
In which he long time afterwards did lead
An happy life with grace and good accord,
Fearlesse of Fortune's chaunge or Envies dread,
And eke all mindlesse of his own deare lord
The noble prince, who never heard one word
Of tydings what did unto him betide,
Or what good fortune did to him afford ;
But through the endlesse world did wander wide,
Him seeking evermore, yet no where him descride :
XIX.
Till on a day, as through that wood he rode,
He chaunst to come where those two ladies late,
Aemylia and Amoret, abode,
Both in full sad and sorrowfull estate,
The one right feeble through the evill rate
Of food, which in her duresse she had found;
The other almost dead and desperate [wound
Through her late hurts, and through that haplesse
With which the squire in her defence her sore astound.
XX.
Whom when the prince beheld, he gan to rew
The evil case in which those ladies lay;
But most was moved at the piteous vew
Of Amoret, so neare unto decay,
That her great daunger did him much dismay.
Eftsoones that prețious liquor forth he drew,
Which he in store about him kept alway,
And with few drops thereof did softly dew
Her wounds, that unto strength restor'd her soone
Tho when they both recovered were right well,
He gan of them inquire, what evill guide
Them thether brought, and how their harmes befell?
To whom they told all that did them betide,
And how from thraldome vile they were untide
Of that same wicked carle, by virgin's hond;
Whose bloudie corse they shew'd him there beside,
And eke his cave in which they both were bond;
At which he wondred much when all those signes he
XXII.
And evermore he greatly did desire
To know what virgin did them thence unbind;
And oft of them did earnestly inquire
Where was her won, and how he mote her find?
But whenas nought according to his mind
He could out-learne, he them from ground did reare,
(No service loathsome to a gentle kind)
And on his warlike beast them both did beare,
Himselfe by them on foot to succour them from feare.
XXIII.
So when that forrest they had passed well,
A litle cotage farre away they spide,
To which they drew ere night upon them fell,
And entring in, found none therein abide,
But one old woman sitting there beside
Upon the ground in ragged rude attyre,
With filthy lockes about her scattered wide,
Gnawing her nayles for felnesse and for yre,
And there out sucking venime to her parts entyre.
A foule and loathly creature sure in sight,
And in conditions to be loath'd no lesse,
For she was stuft with rancour and despight
Up to the throat, that oft with bitternesse
It forth would breake and gushe in great excesse,
Pouring out streames of poyson and of gall
Gainst all that truth or vertue doe professe,
Whom she with leasings lewdly did miscall, [call,
And wickedly backbite: her name men Sclaunder
XXV.
Her nature is all goodnesse to abuse,
And causelesse crimes continually to frame,
With which she guiltlesse persons may accuse,
And steale away the crowne of their good name;
Ne ever knight so bold, ne ever dame
So chast and loyall liv'd, but she would strive
With forged cause them falsely to defame;
Ne ever thing so well was doen alive, [deprive,
But she with blame would blot, and of dew praise
Her words were not, as common words are ment,
T'expresse the meaning of the inward mind;
But noysome breath, and poysnous spirit sent
From inward parts, with cancred malice lind,
And breathed forth with blast of bitter wind; [hart,
Which passing through the eares, would pierce the
And wound the soule itselfe with griefe unkind;
For like the stings of aspes, that kill with smart,
Her spightfull words did pricke and wound the
inner part,
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