Such is the crueltie of womenkynd,
When they have 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 understand,
That they were borue to base humilitie,
Unlesse the Heavens them lift to lawfull soveraintie.
Thus there long while continu'd Artegall,
Serving proud Radigund with true subiection:
However it his noble heart did gall
Tobay a womans tyrannous direction,
That might have had of life or death election:
But, having 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 captive straunge.

Which long concealing in her covert brest,
She chaw'd the cud of lovers 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 serve the lowly vassall of her might,
And of her servant make her soverayne lord: [hord.
So great her pride that she such basenesse much ab-

So much the greater still her anguish grew,
Through stubborne handling of her love-sicke hart;
And still the more she strove 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 convert
To meeke obeysance of Loves mightie raine,

"Which that thou mayst the better bring to pass, 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 have passage free.
Goe now, Clarinda; well thy wits advise,
And all thy forces gather unto thee,
Armies of lovely lookes, and speeches wise, [entise."
With which thou canst even love himselfe to love

The trustie mayd, conceiving her intent,
Did with sure promise of her good endevour
Give her great comfort and some harts content:
So from her parting she thenceforth did labour,
By all the meanes she might, to curry favour
With the Elfin knight, her ladies best beloved:
With daily shew of courteous kind behaviour,

paine.

Unto herselfe in secret she did call

Her nearest handmayd, whom she most did trust,
And to her said; "Clarinda, whom of all
I trust alive, sith I thee fostred first;
Now is the time that I untimely must
Thereof make tryall, in my greatest need!
It is so hapned that the Heavens uniust,
Spighting my happie freedome, have 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 re-
straine."

"Ah! my deare dread," said then the fearefull mayd,

"Can dread of ought your dreadlesse hart withhold, That many hath with dread of death dismayd, And dare even Deathes most dreadfull face behold? Say on, my soverayne ladie, and be bold: Doth not your handmayds life at your foot lie?" Therewith much comforted she gan unfold

The cause of her conceived maladie;

As one that would confesse, yet faine would it denie.

And with wide-glauncing words one day she thus him proved:

"Unhappie knight, upon whose hopelesse state
Fortune, envying good, hath felly frowned,
And cruell Heavens have heapt an heavy 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 have with felicitie bene crowned:
Looke up at last, and wake thy dulled spirit [rit."
To thinke how this long death thou mightest disinhe-

Much did he marvell at her uncouth speach,
Whose hidden drift he could not well perceive;
And gan to doubt least she him sought t' appeach
Of treason, or some guilefull traine did weave,
Through which she might his wretched life bereave:
Both which to barre he with this answere met her;
"Faire damzell, that with ruth, as I perceave,
Of my mishaps art mov'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 Heavens threat,
Then in the sunshine of her countenance cleare
Timely to ioy and carrie comely cheare:
For though this cloud have now me overcast,
Yet doe I not of better times despeyre;
And though (unlike) they should for ever last,
Yet in my truthes assurance I rest fixed fast."

"But what so stonie minde," 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?" "Unworthy 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-advized man,
Make meanes to win thy libertie forlorne,
And try if thou by faire entreatie can
Move Radigund? who though she still have worne
Her dayes in warre, yet (weet thou) was not borne
Of beares and tygres, nor so salvage mynded
As that, albe all love of men she scorne,
She yet forgets that she of men was kynded:
And sooth oft seene that proudest harts base love
hath blynded."

"Certes, Clarinda, not of cancred will,"
Sayd he, "nor obstinate disdainefull mind,
I have 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 unto,
Chiefely by him whose life her law doth bynd,
And eke of powre her owne doome to undo,
And als' of princely grace to be inclyn'd thereto.

"But want of meanes hath bene mine onely let
From seeking favour where it doth abound;
Which if 1 might by your good office get,
I to yourselfe should rest for ever bound,
And ready to deserve what grace I found."
She feeling him thus bite upon the bayt,
Yet doubting least his hold was but unsound
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 salve the Amazon,
She wounded was with her deceipts owne dart,
And gan thenceforth to cast affection,
Conceived 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,

[ed;

For feare her mistresse shold have knowledge gayn-
But to herselfe it secretly retayned
Within the closet of her covert brest:
The more thereby her tender hart was payned:
Yet to awayt fit time she weened best,

And fairely did dissemble her sad thoughts unrest.

One day her ladie, calling her apart,
Gan to demaund of her some tydings good,
Touching her loves 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 overpast, so soone
As she her face had wypt to fresh her blood :
Tho gan she tell her all that she had donne, [wonne.
And all the wayes she sought his love for to have

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 love againe:
Die rather would he in penurious paine,
And his abridged dayes in dolour wast,
Then his foes love 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 perceived,
She gan to storme, and rage, and rend her gall,
For very fell despight, which she conceived,
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 forstall.
Nathlesse, when calmed was her furious heat,
She chang'd that threatfull mood, and mildly gan

entreat:

[neare.

"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 awhile with his first folly beare,
Till thou have tride againe, and tempted him more
"Say and do all that may hereto prevaile;
Leave nought unpromist that may him perswade,
Life, freedome, grace, and gifts of great availe,
With which the gods themselves are mylder made :
Thereto adde art, even womens witty trade,
The art of mightie words that men can charme;
With which in case thou canst him not invade,
Who will not stoupe with good shall be made stoupe
Let him feele hardnesse of thy heavie arme:

with harme.

"Some of his diet doe from him withdraw ;
For I him find to be too proudly fed:
Give 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 upon him, for his greater dread,
Cold yron chaines with which let him be tide;
And let, whatever he desires, be him denide.

"When thou hast all this doen, then bring me newes
Of his demeane; thenceforth not like a lover,
But like a rebell stout, I will him use:
For I resolve this siege not to give over,
Till I the conquest of my will recover."
So she departed full of griefe and sdaine,
Which inly did to great impatience move her:
But the false mayden shortly turn'd againe
Unto the prison, where her hart did thrall remaine,

There all her subtill nets she did unfold,
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 herselfe 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 receive
In her owne mouth the food ment for her chyld,
Withholdes it to herselfe, and doeth deceive
The infant, so for want of nourture spoyld;
Even so Clarinda her owne dame beguyid,
And turn'd the trust, which was in her affyde,
To feeding of her private fire, which boyld
Her inward brest, and in her entrayles fryde,
The more that she it sought to cover and to hyde.

For, comming to this knight, she purpose fayned,
How earnest suit she earst for him had made
Unto her queene, his freedome to have gayned;
But by no meanes could her thereto perswade,
But that instead thereof she sternely bade
His miserie to be augmented more,
And many yron bands on him to lade;
All which nathlesse she for his love forbore:
So praying him t' accept her service evermore,

And, more then that, she promist that she would,
In case she might finde favour in his eye,
Devize 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 deserve such
grace.

So daily he faire semblant did her shew,
Yet never meant he in his noble mind
To his owne absent love to be untrew:
Ne ever did deceiptfull Clarin find

In her false hart his bondage to unbind;
But rather how she mote him faster tye.
Therefore unto her mistresse most unkind
She daily told her love 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 love 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 beloved well, but little friended;
Untill his owne true love his freedome gayned:
Which in another canto will be best contayned.

CANTO VI.

Talus brings newes to Britomart
Of Artegals mishap :

She goes to sceke him; Dolon meetes,
Who seekes her to entrap.

SOME 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 adviz'd that he stand stedfast still;
For never yet was wight so well aware,

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

Yet in the streightnesse of that captive state
This gentle knight himselfe so well behaved,
That notwithstanding all the subtill bait,
With which those Amazous his love still craved,
To his owne love his loialtie he saved:
Whose character in th' adamantine mould
Of his true hart so firmely was engraved,
That no new loves impression ever could [should.
Bereave it thence: such blot his honour blemish

Yet his owne love, the noble Britomart,
Scarse so conceived in her iealous thought,
What time sad tydings of his baleful! smart
In womans bondage Talus to her brought;
Brought in untimely houre, ere it was sought;
For, after that the utmost date assynde
For his returne she waited had for nought,
She gan to cast in her misdoubtfull mynde [fynde.
A thousand feares, that love-sicke fancies faine to

Sometime she feared least some hard mishap
Had him misfalne in his adventurous quest;
Sometime least his false foe did him entrap
In traytrous trayne, or had unwares opprest;
But most she did her troubled mynd molest,
And secretly afflict with iealous feare,
Least some new love 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 whyle she blam'd herselfe; another whyle
She him condemn'd as trustlesse and untrew:
And then, her griefe with errour to beguyle,
She fayn'd to count the time agaiue 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 recknel them still drawing neare,
Each hour did seeme a moneth, and every moneth
a yeare.

But, whenas yet she saw him not returne,
She thought to send some one to seeke him out;
But none she found so fit to serve that turne,
As her owne selfe, to ease herselfe of dout.
Now she deviz'd, amongst the warlike rout
Of errant knights, to seeke her errant knight;
And then againe resolv'd to hunt him out
Amongst loose ladies lapped in delight: [spight.
And then both knights envide, and ladies eke did
One day whenas she long had sought for ease
In every place, and every place thought best,
Yet found no place that could her liking please,
She to a window came, that opened west,
Towards which coast, her love his way addrest:
There looking forth shee in her heart did find
Many vain fancies working her unrest;

And sent her winged thoughts more swift then wind
To beare unto her love 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 love indeede :
Who when he nigh approacht, shee mote arede
That it was Talus, Artegall his groome:
Whereat her hart 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.

Even in the dore him meeting, she begun;
"And where is he thy lord, and how far bence?
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 himselfe it spake.

Till she againe thus sayd; "Talus, be bold,
And tell whatever 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 love) 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 captived hath in haplesse woe." "Cease thou, bad newes-man; badly doest thou hide Thy maisters shame, in harlots bondage tide; The rest myselfe 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 moanefull plaint
Against her knight for being so untrew;
And him to touch with falshoods fowle attaint,
That all his other honour overthrew.
Oft did she blame herselfe, and often rew,
For yeelding to a straungers love so light,
Whose life and manners straunge she never knew;
And evermore 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 revenge that blot of honour blent,
To fight with him, and goodly die her last:
And then againe she did herselfe torment,
Inflicting on herselfe his punishment.
Awhile she walkt, and chauft; awhile she threw
Herseife uppon her bed, and did lament:
Yet did she not lament with loude alew,

[few.

As women wont, but with deepe sighes and singulfs

Like as a wayward childe, whose sounder sleepe
Is broken with some fearefull dreames affright,
With froward will doth set himselfe to weepe,
Ne can be still 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 craving sucke, and then the sucke refusing:
Such was this ladies fit in her loves fond accusing.

But when she had with such unquiet fits
Herself there close afflicted long in vaine,
Yet found no easement in her troubled wits,
She unto 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.

With that he gar at large to her dilate
The whole discourse of his captivance sad,
In sort as ye have 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 grief attone;
Ne would abide, till she had aunswere made;
But streight herselfe did dight, and armor don,
And mounting to her steede bad Talus guide her on

So forth she rode uppon her ready way,
To seeke her knight, as Talus her did guide:
Sadly she rode, and never word did say
Nor good nor bad, ne ever lookt aside,
But still right downe; and in her thought did hide
The feinesse of her heart, right fully bent
To fierce avengement 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 the even-tide
A knight, that softly paced on the plaine,
As if himselfe to solace he were faine:
Well shot in yeares he seem'd, and rather bent
To peace then needlesse trouble to conștraine;
As well by view of that his vestiment,
As by his modest semblant, that no evill 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 kinduesse would despize,
She would herselfe displease, so him requite.
Then gau the other further to devize

Of things abrode, as next to hand did light, flights
And many things demaund, to which she answer'd

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 gave none other place. Which when as hee
By outward signes (as well he might) did see,
He list no lenger to use lothfull speach,
But her besought to take it well in gree,
Sith shady dampe had dimd the Heavens reach,
To lodge with him that night, unles good cause em-
peach.

The championesse, now seeing night at dore,
Was glad to yeeld unto 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 arriving they received 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.