Rather then let my selfe of wight be stroken,
So long as these two armes were able to be wroken.
“For not I him, as this his Ladie here
May witnesse well, did offer first to wrong,
Ne surely thus unarm’d I likely were;
But he me first through pride and puissance strong
Assayld, not knowing what to armes doth long.”
“Perdie great blame” (then said Sir Calidore)
“For armed knight a wight unarm’d to wrong:
But then aread, thou gentle chyld, wherefore
Betwixt you two began this strife and sterne uprore.”
“That shall I, sooth,” (said he) “to you declare.
I, whose unryper yeares are yet unfit
For thing of weight or worke of greater care,
Doe spend my dayes and bend my carelesse wit
To salvage chace, where I thereon may hit
In all this forrest and wyld wooddie raine:
Where, as this day I was enraunging it,
I chaunst to meete this knight, who there lyes slaine,
Together with this Ladie, passing on the plaine.
“The knight, as ye did see, on horsebacke was,
And this his Ladie (that him ill became)
On her faire feet by his horse side did pas
Through thicke and thin, unfit for any Dame:
Yet not content, more to increase his shame,
When so she lagged, as she needs mote so,
He with his speare, that was to him great blame,
Would thumpe her forward and inforce to goe,
Weeping to him in vaine and making piteous woe.
“Which when I saw, as they me passed by,
Much was I moved in indignant mind,
And gan to blame him for such cruelty
Towards a Ladie, whom with usage kind
He rather should have taken up behind;
Wherewith he wroth, and full of proud disdaine,
Tooke in foule scorne that I such fault did find,
And me in lieu thereof revil’d againe,
Threatning to chastize me, as doth t’a chyld pertaine.
“Which I no lesse disdayning, backe returned
His scornefull taunts unto his teeth againe,
That he streightway with haughtie choler burned,
And with his speare strooke me one stroke or twaine;
Which I, enforst to beare though to my paine,
Cast to requite; and with a slender dart,
Fellow of this I beare, throwne not in vaine,
Strooke him, as seemeth, underneath the hart,
That through the wound his spirit shortly did depart.”
Much did Sir Calidore admyre his speach
Tempred so well, but more admyr’d the stroke
That through the mayles had made so strong a breach
Into his hart, and had so sternely wroke
His wrath on him that first occasion broke;
Yet rested not, but further gan inquire
Of that same Ladie, whether what he spoke
Were soothly so, and that th’unrighteous ire
Of her owne knight had given him his owne due hire?
Of all which when as she could nought deny,
But cleard that stripling of th’imputed blame,
Sayd then Sir Calidore; “Neither will I
Him charge with guilt, but rather doe quite clame:
For what he spake, for you he spake it, Dame;
And what he did, he did him selfe to save:
Against both which that knight wrought knightlesse shame;
For knights and all men this by nature have,
Towards all womenkind them kindly to behave.
But, sith that he is gone irrevocable,
Please it you, Ladie, to us to aread
What cause could make him so dishonourable
To drive you so on foot, unfit to tread
And lackey by him, gainst all womanhead.”
“Certes, Sir knight,” (sayd she) “full loth I were
To rayse a lyving blame against the dead;
But since it me concernes my selfe to clere,
I will the truth discover as it chaunst whylere.
“This day, as he and I together roade
Upon our way to which we weren bent,
We chaunst to come foreby a covert glade
Within a wood, whereas a Ladie gent
Sate with a knight in joyous jolliment
Of their franke loves, free from all gealous spyes.
Faire was the Ladie, sure, that mote content
An hart not carried with too curious eyes,
And unto him did shew all lovely courtesyes.
“Whom when my knight did see so lovely faire,
He inly gan her lover to envy,
And wish that he part of his spoyle might share:
Whereto when as my presence he did spy
To be a let, he bad me by and by
For to alight: but when as I was loth
My loves owne part to leave so suddenly,
He with strong hand downe from his steed me throw’th
And with presumpteous powre against that knight streight go’th.
“Unarm’d all was the knight, as then more meete
For Ladies service, and for loves delight,
Then fearing any foeman there to meete:
Whereof he taking oddes, streight bids him dight
Himselfe to yeeld his Love, or else to fight:
Whereat the other starting up dismayd,
Yet boldly answer’d, as he rightly might,
To leave his love he should be ill apayd,
In which he had good right gaynst all that it gainesayd.
“Yet since he was not presently in plight
Her to defend, or his to justifie,
He him requested, as he was a knight,
To lend him day his better right to trie,
Or stay till he his armes, which were thereby,
Might lightly fetch: But he was fierce and whot,
Ne time would give, nor any termes aby,
But at him flew, and with his speare him smot;
From which to thinke to save himselfe it booted not.
“Meane while his Ladie, which his outrage saw,
Whilest they together for the quarrey strove,
Into the covert did her selfe withdraw,
And closely hid her selfe within the grove.
My knight hers soone, as seemes, to daunger drove,
And left sore wounded: but, when her he mist,
He woxe halfe mad; and in that rage gan rove
And range through all the wood, where so he wist
She hidden was, and sought her so long as him list.
“But, when as her he by no meanes could find,
After long search and chauff he turned backe
Unto the place where me he
