So great her pride that she such basenesse much abhord.
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,
And him entreat for grace that had procur’d her paine.
Unto her selfe 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 unjust,
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 restraine.”
“Ah! my deare dread,” (said then the faithfull 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.
“Clarin,” (said she) “thou seest yond Fayry Knight,
Whom not my valour, but his owne brave mind
Subjected hath to my unequall might.
What right is it, that he should thraldome find
For lending life to me, a wretch unkind,
That for such good him recompence with ill?
Therefore I cast how I may him unbind,
And by his freedome get his free goodwill;
Yet so, as bound to me he may continue still:
“Bound unto me but not with such hard bands
Of strong compulsion and streight violence,
As now in miserable state he stands;
But with sweet love and sure benevolence,
Voide of malitious mind or foule offence:
To which if thou canst win him any way
Without discoverie of my thoughts pretence,
Both goodly meede of him it purchase may,
And eke with gratefull service me right well apay.
“Which that thou mayst the better bring to pas,
Loe! here this ring, which shall thy warrant bee,
And token true to old Eumenias,
From time to time, when thou it best shah 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,
With which thou canst even Jove himselfe to love entise.”
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 th’Elfin Knight, her Ladies best beloved:
With daily shew of courteous kind behaviour,
Even at the marke-white of his hart she roved,
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 juster merit
Might else have with felicitie bene crowned:
Looke up at last, and wake thy dulled spirit
To thinke how this long death thou mightest disinherit.”
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 joy 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
