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“ To take defiaunce at a ladies word,”

Nathlesse at length himselfe he did apreare
Quoth he, “ I hold it no indignity;

In lustlesse wise; as if against his will,
But were he here, that would it with his sword Ere he had slept his fill, he wakened were,
Abett, perhaps he mote it deare aby.” [fly | Aud gan to stretch his limbs ; which feeling ill

Cowherd,"quoth she, “were not that thou wouldst Of his late fall, awhile he rested still: Ere he doe come, he should be soone in place.” But, when he saw his foe before in vew, “ If I doe so," sayd he, “then liberty

He shooke off luskishnesse; and, courage chill I leave to you for aye me to disgrace [deface.” | Kindling afresh, gan battell to renew, [sew. With all those shames, that erst ye spake me to To prove if better foote then horsebacke would en

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With that a dwarfe she cald to her in hast, There then began a fearefull cruell fray
And taking from her hand a ring of gould

Betwixt them two for maystery of might:
(A privy token which betweene them past) For both were wondrous practicke in that play,
Bad him to tie with all the speed he could

And passing well expert in single figbt, To Crudor; and desire him that he would

And both inflam'd with furious despight; Vouchsafe to reskue her against a knight,

Which as it still encreast, so still increast Who through strong powre had now berselfiu hould Their cruell strokes and terrible affright; Having late slaine her seneschall in fight,

Ne once for ruth their rigour they releast, And all her people murdred with outragious might: Neonce to breath awhile their angers tempest ceast. The dwarfe his way did hast, and went all night: Thus long they trac'd and traverst to and fro, But Calidore did with her there abyde

And tryde all waies how each mote entrance make The comming of that so much threatned knight; Into the life of his malignant foe; Where that discourteous dame with scornfull pryde They hew'd their heimes, and plates asunder brake, And fowle entreaty him indignifyde,

As they had potshares bene; for nought mote slake That yron heart it hardly could sustaine :

Their greedy vengeaunces but goary blood;
Yet he, that could his wrath full wisely guyde, That at the last like to a purple lake
Did well endure her womanish disdaine,

Of bloudy gore congeal'd about them stood,
And did himselfe from fraile impatience refraine. Which from their riven sides forth gushed like a flood.
The morrow next, before the lampe of light At length it chaunst that both their hands on hie
Above the Earth upreard his flaming head,

At once did heave with all their powre and mighty The dwarfe, which bore that messag to her knight, Thinking the utmost of their force to trie, Brought aunswere backe, that ere he tasted bread And prove the finall fortune of the fight; He would her succour, and alive or dead

But Calidore, that was more quicke of sight Her foe deliver up into her hand:

And nimbler-handed then his enemie, Therefore he wild her doe away all dread; Prevented him before his stroke could light, And, that of him she mote assured stand,

And on the helmet smote him formerlie, (militie: He sent to her his basenet as a faithfull band. That made him stoupe to ground with meeke huThereof full blyth the ladie streight became,

And, ere he could recover foote againe, And gan t'augment her bitternesse much more:

He following that faire advantage fast Yet no whit more appalled for the same,

His stroke redoubled with such might and maine, Ne ought dismayed was sir Calidore;

That him upon the ground he groveling cast; But rather did more chearefull seeme therefore :

And leaping to him light would have unlast

His helme, to make unto his vengeance way:
And, having soone his artes about him dight,
Did issue forth to meete his foe afore;

Who, seeing in what daunger he was plast,
Where long he stayed not, whenas a knight

Cryde out; “ Ab 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 might.

lay.”

With that his mortall hand awhile he stayd ; Well weend he streight that he should be the same

And, having somewhat calm’d his wrathfüll heat Which tooke in hand her quarrell to maintaine;

With goodly patience, thus he to him sayd ; Ne stayd to aske if it were he by name,

“And is the boast of that proud ladies threat, But coucht his speare, and ran at him amaine. That menaced me from the field to beat, They bene ymett in middest of the plaine

Now brought to this? By this now may ye leare With so fell fury and dispiteous forse,

Strangers no more so rudely to entreat ; That neither could the others stroke sustaine,

But put away proud looke and usage sterne, But rudely rowld to ground both man and horse,

The which shal nought to you but foule dishonour Neither of other taking pitty nor remorse.

yearne. But Calidore uprose againe full light,

“ For nothing is more blamefull to a knight;
Whiles yet his foe lay fast in sencelesse sound; That cout’sie doth as well as armes professe,
Yet would he not him hurt although he might: However strong and fortunate in fight,
For shame he weend a sleeping wight to wound. Then the reproch.of pride and cruelnesse :
But when Briana saw that drery stound,

Iu vaine he seeketh others to suppresse,
There where she stood uppon the castle wall, Who hath not learnd himselfe first to subdew :
She deem'd him sure to have bene dead on ground; all flesh is frayle and full of ficklenesse,
And made such piteous mouroing therewithall, Subiect to fortunes chance, still chaunging new;
That from the battlements she ready seem'd to fall. What haps to day to me to morrow may to you.

1

« Who will not mercie unto others shew,
How can he mercie ever hope to have?

CANTO II.
To pay each with his owne is right and dew:
Yet since ye mercie now doe need to crave,

Calidore sees young Tristram slay
I will it graunt, your hopelesse life to save,

A proud discourteous knight: With these conditions which I will propound:

He makes him squire, and of him learnes First, that ye better shall yourselfe behave

His state and present plight.
Unto all errant knights, whereso on ground;
Next, that ye ladies ayde in every stead and stound.” | What vertue is so fitting for a knight,

Or for a ladie whom a knight should love,
The wretched man, that all this while did dwell As curtesie ; to beare themselves aright
In dread of death, his heasts did gladly heare, To all of each degree as doth behove?
And promist to performe his precept well,

For whether they be placed high above
And whatsoever else he would requere.

Or low beneath, yet ought they well to know So, suffring him to rise, he made him sweare Their good; that none them rightly may reprove By his owne sword, and by the crosse thereon, Of rudenesse for not yeelding what they owe: To take Briana for bis loving fere

Great skill it is such duties timely to bestow. Withouten dowre or composition; But to release his former foule condition.

Thereto great helpe dame Nature selfe doth lend :

For some so goodly gratious are by kind, All which accepting, and with faithfull oth That every action doth them much commend, Byoding himselfe most firmely to obay,

And in the eyes of men great liking find; He up arose, however liefe or loth,

Which others that have greater skill in mind, And swore to him true fealtie for aye.

Though they enforce themselves, cannot attaine: Then forth he cald from sorrowfull dismay For everie thing, to which one is inclin'd, The sad Briana which all this beheld;

Doth best become and greatest grace doth gaine: Who comming forth yet full of late affray Yet praise likewise deserve good thewes enforst with Sir Calidore upcheard, and to her teld

paine. All this accord to which he Crudor had compeld.

That well in courteous Calidore appeares; Whereof she now more glad then sory earst, Whose every act and deed, that he did say, All overcome with infinite affect

Was like enchantment, that through both the eyes For his exceeding courtesie, that pearst

And both the eares did steale the bart away. Her stubborne hart with inward deepe effect, He now againe is on his former way Before his feet herselfe she did proiect;

To follow his first quest, whenas he spyde And him adoring as her lives deare lord,

A tall young man, from thence not farre away, With all due thankes and dutifull respect,

Fighting on foot, as well he him descryde, Herselfe acknowledg'd bound for that accord, Against an armed knight that did on horsebacke By which he had to her both life and love restord.

ryde.

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Whom Calidore awhile well baving vewed, (swaine! | Of all wbich whenas she could nought deny,
At length bespake; “What meanes this, gentle But cleard that stripling of th' imputed blame ;
Why hath thy hand too bold itselfe embrewed Sayd then sir Cadidore; “ Neither will I
In blood of knight, the which by thee is slaine, Him charge with guilt, but rather doe quite clame:
By thee no knight: which armes impagneth plaine!" Por, what he spake, for you he spake it, dame;
• Certes," said he, “ loth were I to have broken And what he did, he did himselfe to save: (shame:
The law of armes; yet breake it should againe, Against both which that knight wrougbt knightlesse
Rather then let myselfe of wight be stroken, For knights and all men this by nature have,
So long as these two armes were able to be wroken. Towards all womenkind them kindly to behaves
“ For not I him, as this his ladie here

“ But, sith that he is gone irrevocable,
May witnesse well, did offer first to wrong, Please it you, ladie, to us to aread
Ne surely thus unarm'd I likely were ;

What cause could make him so dishonourable But be me first through pride and puissance strong To drive you so on foot, unfit to tread Assayld, not knowing what to armes doth long." And lackey by him, gainst all womanbead." “ Perdie great blame,” then said sir Calidore, “ Certes, sir Knight,” sayd she, “fuli loth I were « For arined knight a wight unarm'd to wrong: To rayse a lyving blame against the dead : But then aread, thou gentle chyld, wherefore But, since it me concernes myselfe to clere, Betwixt you two began this strife and sterne uprore." I will the truth discover as it chaunst whylere.

“ That shall I sooth,” said he, “to you declare. “ This day, as he and I together roade
1, whose unryper yeares are yet unfit

Upon our way to which we weren bent,
For thing of weight or worke of greater care, We chaunst to come foreby a covert glade
Doe spend my dayes and bend my carelesse wit Within a wood, whereas a ladie gent
To salvage chace, where I thereon may hit Sate with a knight in joyous iolliment
In all this forrest and wyld woodie raine:

Of their franke loves, free from all gealous spyes: Where, as this day I was enraunging it,

Faire was the ladie sure, that mote content I chaunst to meete this knight who there lyes slaine, An bart not carried with too curious eyes, Together with this ladie, passing on the plaine. And unto him did shew all lovely courtesyes. “ The knight, as ye did see, on horsebacke was, “ Whom when my knight did see so lovely faire, And this his ladie, that him ill became,

He inly gan her lover to envy, On her faire feet by his horse-side did pas And wish that he part of his spoyle might share: Through thicke and thin, unfit for any dampe: Whereto whenas my presence he did spy Yet not content, more to increase his shame, To be a let, he bad me by and by Whenso she lagged, as she needs mote so,

For to alight: but, whenas I was loth He with his speare (that was to him great blame) My loves owne part to leave so suddenly, Would thumpe her forward and inforce to goe, He with strong hand down from his steed me Weeping to him in vaine and making piteous woe.

throwth,

(streight go'th.

And with presumpteous powre against that knight " Which when I saw, as they me passed by, Much was I moved in indignant mind,

“ Unarm'd all was the knight, as then more meete And gan to blame him for such cruelty

For ladies service and for loves delight, Towards a ladie, whom with usage kind

Then fearing any foeman there to meete: He rather should have taken up behind.

Wherenf he taking oddes, streight bids him dight Wherewith he wroth and full of proud disdaine Himselfe to yeeld his love or else to fight: Tooke in foule scorne that I such fault did find, Whereat the other starting up dismayd, And me in lieu thereof revil'd againe,

Yet boldly answer'd, as he rightly might, Threatning to chástize me, as doth t'a chyld pertaine. To leave his love he should be ill apayd[sayd.

In which he had good right gaynst all that it gaine“ Which I no lesse disdayning, backe returned His scornefull taunts unto his teeth againe, “ Yet since he was not presently in plight That he streightway with baughtie choler burned, Her to defend, or his to justifie, And with his speare strooke me one stroke or twaine; He him requested, as he was a knight, Which I, enforst to beare though to my paine, To lend him day his better right to trie, Cast to requite; and with a slender dart,

Or stay till he his armes, which were thereby, Fellow of this I beare, throwne not in vaine, Might lightly fetch: but he was fierce and wbot, Strooke him, as seemeth, underneath the hart, Ne time would give, nor any termes aby, That through the wound his spirit shortly did de- | But at him few, and with his speare him smot; part."

From which to thinke to save himseife it booted not.

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Much did sir Calidore admyre his speach “ Meane while his ladie, which this outrage saw,
Tempred so well, but more admyr'd the stroke Whilest they together for the quarrey strove,
That through the mayles had made so strong a Into the covert did herselfe withdraw,
Into his hart, and had so sternely wroke (breacb | And closely hid herselfe within the grove.
His wrath on him that first occasion broke: My knight hers soone, as seemes, to daunger drove
Yet rested not, but further gan inquire

And left sore wounded: but, when her he mist, Of that same ladie, whether what he spoke He woxe halfe mad; and in that rage gan rove Were soothly so, and that th' unrighteous ire And range through all the wood, whereso he wist Of her owne knight had given him his owne due hire. She hidden was, and sought her so long as him list. “ But, whenas her he by no meanes could find, “ And Tristram is my name; the onely heire After long search and chauff he turned backe Of good king Meliogras which did rayue Unto the place where me he left behind :

In Cornewale, till that he through lives despeire
There gan he me to curse and ban, for lacke Untimely dyde, before I did attaine
Of that faire bootie, and with bitter wracke Ripe yeares of reason, my right to maintaine:
To wreake on me the guilt of his owne wrong: After wbose death his brother, seeing mee
Of all which I yet glad to beare the packe Ao infant, weake a kingdome to sustaine,
Strove to appease him, and perswaded long; Upon him tooke the roiall high degree,
But still his passion grew more violent and strong. And sent me, where him list, instructed for to bee.
" Then, as it were tavenge his wrath on mee, “ The widow queene my mother, which then hight
When forward ve should fare, he flat refused Faire Emiline, conceiving then great feare
To take me up (as this young man did see) Of my fraile safetie, resting in the might
Upon his steed, for no just cause accused,

Of him that did the kingly scepter beare,
But forst to trot on foot, and foule misused, Whose gealous dread induring not a peare
Pounching me with the butt-end of his speare, Is wont to cut off all that doubt may breed;
la vaine complayning to be so abused;

Thought best away me to remove somewhere
For he regarded neither playut nor teare, [heare. Into some forrein land, whereas no need
But more enforst my paine, the more my plaints to Of dreaded daunger might his doubtfull humor feed

" So passed we, till this young man us met;

So, taking counsell of a wise man red, And being moor'd with pittie of my plight

She was by him adviz'd to send me quight Spake, as was ineete, for ease of my regret: Out of the countrie wherein I was bred, Whereof befell what now is in your sight.". The which the Fertile Lionesse is hight, " Now sure," then said sir Calidore, “and right Into the land of Faerie, where no wight Me seemes, that him befell by his owne fault: Should weet of me, nor worke me any wrong: Whoever thinkes through confidence of might, To whose wise read she hearkning sent me streight Or through support of count'nance proud and hault, Into this land, where I have wond thus long [strong, To wrong the weaker, oft falles in his owne assault.” Since I was ten yeares old, now grown to stature Then turning backe unto that gentle boy,

“ All which my daies I have not lewdly spent, Which had himselfe so stoutly well acquit; Nor spilt the blossome of my tender yeares Seeing his face so lovely sterne and coy,

In ydlesse; but, as was convenient, And hearing th' answeres of his pregnant wit, Have trayned bene with many noble feres He praysd it much, and much admyred it; In gentle thewes and such like seemly leres: That sure he weened him born of noble blood, Mongst which my most delight hath alwaies been With whom those graces did so goodly fit:

To hunt the salvage chace, amongst my peres, And, when he long had him beholding stood, Of all that raungeth in the forrest greene, He burst into these wordes, as to him seemed good; Of which none is to me unknowne that ev'r was seene. " Faire gentle swayne, and yet as stout as fayre, “ Ne is there hauke which mantleth her on pearch, That in these woods amongst the nymphs dost wonne, Whether high towring or accoasting low, Which daily may to thy sweete lookes repayre, But I the measure of her flight doe search, as they are wont unto Latonaes sonne

And all her pray and all her diet know: After his chace on woodie Cynthus donne;

Such be our joyes which in these forrests grow: Well may I certes such an one thee read,

Onely the use of armes, which most I ioy, As by thy worth thou worthily bast wonne,

And fitteth most for noble swayne to know, Or surely borne of some heroicke sead,

I have not tasted yet; yet past a boy, [imploy. That in thy face appeares and gratious goodlyhead. And being now high time these strong ioynts to " Bat, should it not displease thee it to tell, “ Therefore, good sir, sith now occasion fit (Unlesse thoa in these woods thyselfe conceale Doth fall, whose like hereafter seldome may, For love amongst the woodie gods to dwell,) Let me this crave, unworthy though of it, I would thyselfe require thee to reveale;

That ye will make me squire without delay, For deare affection and unfayned zeale

That from henceforth in batteilous array Which to thy noble personage I beare,

I may beare armes, and learne to use them right; And wish thee grow in worship and great weale: The rather, since that fortune bath this day For, since the day that armes I first did reare, Given to me the spoile of this dead knight, . I'never saw in any greatér hope appeare.”

These goodly gilden armes wbich I have won in

fight.”
To whom then thus the noble youth; “ May be,
Sir Knight, that, by discovering my estate, All which when well sir Calidore had heard,
Harme may arise unweeting unto me;

Him much more now, then earst, he gan admire Natbelesse, sith ye so courteous seemed late, For the rare hope which in his yeares appear'd, To you I will not feare it to relate.

And thus replide; “ Faire chyld, the high desire Then yote ye that I am a Briton borne,

To love of armes, which in you doth aspire, Sonne of a king, (however thorough fate

I may not certes without blame denie; Or fortune I my countrie have forlone,

But rather wish that some inore noble hire And lost the crowne which should my head by right (Though none more noble then is chevalrie) adorue,)

I had, you to reward with greater dignitie."

'There him he causd to kneele, and made to sweare | Then, speaking to the ladie, thus he said; Faith to his knight, and truth to ladies all,

“ Ye dolefull dame, let not your griefe empeach And never to be recreant for feare

To tell what cruell hand hath thus arayd Of perill, or of ought that might befall:

This knight unarm'd with so unknightly breach So he him dubbed, and his squire did call.

Of armes, that, if I yet bim nigh may reach,
Full glad and ioyous then young Tristram grew; I may avenge him of so foule despight.”
Like as a flowre, whose silken leavës small

The ladie, hearing his so courteous speach,
Long shut up in the bud from Heavens vew, Gan reare her eyes as to the cbearefull light,
At length breaks forth, and brode displayes bis And from her sory hart few beavie words forth sigh't:
smyling hew.

In which she shew'd, how that discourteous knight, Thus when they long had treated to and fro, Whom Tristram slew, them in that shadow found And Calidore betooke him to depart,

loying together in unblam'd delight; Chyld Tristram prayd that he with him might goe And him unarm'd, as now he lay ou ground, On his adventure, vowing not to start,

Charg'd with his speare, and mortally did wound, But wayt on him in every place and part:

Withouten cause, but onely her to reave Whereat sir Calidore did much delight,

From him, to whom she was for ever bound : And greatly ioy'd at his so noble hart,

Yet, when she fled into that covert greave, (leave. In hope he sure would prove a doughtie knight: He, her not finding, both them thus nigh dead did Yet for the time this answere he to him behight;

When Calidore this ruefull storie had “ Glad would I surely be, thou courteous squire, Well understood, he gan of her demand, To have thy presence in my present quest,

What manner wight he was, and how yclad, That mote thy kindled courage set on fire,

Which had this outrage wrought with wicked hand, And fame forth honour in thy noble brest: She then, like as she best could understand, But I am bound by vow, which I profest

Him thus describ'd, to be of stature large, To my dread soveraine, when I it assayd,

Clad all in gilden armes, with azure band That in atchievement of her high behest

Quartred athwart, and bearing in his targe I should no creature joyne unto mine ayde; A ladie on rough waves row'd in a sommer barge. Forthy I may not graunt that ye so greatly prayde.

Then gan sir Calidore to ghesse streightway, “ But since this ladie is all desolate,

By many signes which she described had, And needeth safegard now upon her way,

That this was he whom Tristram earst did slay, Ye may doe well in this her needfull state

And to her said; “ Dame, be no longer sad; To succour her from daunger of dismay,

For be, that bath your knight so ill bestad, That thankfull guerdon may to you repay.Is now himselfe in much more wretched plight; The noble ympe, of such new service fayne, These eyes him saw upon the cold earth sprad, It gladly did accept, as he did say:

The meede of his desert for that despight, [knight. So taking courteous leave they parted twayne;

Which to yourselfe be wrought and to your loved And Calidore forth passed to his former payne.

“ Therefore, faire lady, lay aside this griefe, But Tristram, then despoyling that dead knight Which ye have gathered to your gentle hart Of all those goodly implements of prayse,

For that displeasure; and thinke what reliefe Long fed his greedie eyes with the faire sight Were best devise for this your lovers smart; Of the bright mettall shyning like Sunne rayes; And how ye may him hence, and to what part, Handling and turning them a thousand wayes : Convay to be recur’d.” She thankt him deare, And, after having them upon him dight,

Both for that newes he did to her impart, He tooke that ladie, and her up did rayse

And for the courteous care which he did beare Upon the steed of her owne late dead knight: Both to her love and to herselfe in that sad dreare. So with her marched forth, as she did him behight.

Yet could she not devise by any wit, There to their fortune leave we them awbile, How thence she might convay him to some place; And turne we backe to good sir Calidore;

For him to trouble she it thought unfit, Who, ere he thence had traveild many a mile, That was a straunger to her wretched case; Came to the place whereas ye beard afore

And bim to beare, she thought it thing too base. This knight, whom Tristram slew, had wounded sore Which whenas he perceiv'd he thus bespake; Another knight in his despiteous pryde;

“ Faire lady, let it not you seeme disgrace There he that knight found lying on the flore To beare this burden on your dainty backe; With many wounds full perilous and wyde, [dyde: Myselfe will beare a part, coportion of your packe." That all his garments and the grasse in vermeill

So off he did his shield, and downeward layd And there beside him sate upon the ground Upon the ground, like to an hollow beare; His wofull ladie, piteously complayning

And powring balme, which he had long purrayd, With loud laments that most uniuckie stound, Into his wounds, him up thereon did reare, And her sad selfe with carefull hand constrayniug And twixt them both with parted paines did beare, To wype his wounds, and ease their bitter payning: Twixt life and death, not knowing what was dome: Which sorie sight when Calidore did vew,

Thence they him carried to a castle neare, Wtih heavie eyne from teares uneath refrayning, In which a worthy auncient knight did wonne: His mightie hart their mournefull case can rew, Where what ensu'd shall in next casto be beAnd for their better comfort to them nigher drew.

gonne.

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