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 litle frended,
Untill his owne true love his freedome gayned:
Which in an other Canto will be best contayned.
Canto VI
Talus brings newes to Britomart
Of Artegals mishap:
She goes to seeke him; Dolon meets,
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 Amazons 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
Bereave it thence: such blot his honour blemish should.
Yet his owne love, the noble Britomart,
Scarse so conceived in her jealous thought,
What time sad tydings of his balefull 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
A thousand feares, that love-sicke fancies faine to fynde.
Sometime she feared least some hard mishap
Had him misfalne in his adventurous quest;
Sometime least his false foe did him entrap
In traytrous traine, or had unwares opprest;
But most she did her troubled mynd molest,
And secretly afflict with jealous 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 while she blam’d her selfe; 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 againe anew,
As if before she had not counted trew:
For houres, but daycs; for weekes that passed were,
She told but moneths, to make them seeme more few;
Yet when she reckned them, still drawing neare,
Each hour did seeme a moneth, and every moneth a yeare.
But when as 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 her selfe 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:
And then both Knights envide, and Ladies eke did spight.
One day when as 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 vaine 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 approcht, shee mote arede
That it was Talus, Artegall his groome:
Whereat her heart 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 done him meeting, she begun:
“And where is he thy Lord, and how far hence?
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 him selfe it spake.
Till she againe thus sayd: “Talus, be bold,
And tell what ever 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 Tyrantesse,” (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 my selfe 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 monefull 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 her selfe, and
