Not wont on foote with heavy armes to trace,
Downe in a dale forby a rivers syde
He chaunst to spie a faire and stately place,
To which he meant his weary steps to guyde,
In hope there for his love some succour to provyde.
But, comming to the rivers side, he found
That hardly passable on foote it was;
Therefore there still he stood as in a stound,
Ne wist which way he through the foord mote pas:
Thus whilest he was in this distressed case,
Devising what to doe, he nigh espyde
An armed Knight approaching to the place
With a faire Lady lincked by his syde,
The which themselves prepard thorough the foord to ride.
Whom Calepine saluting (as became)
Besought of courtesie, in that his neede,
For safe conducting of his sickely Dame
Through that same perillous foord with better heede,
To take him up behinde upon his steed;
To whom that other did this taunt returne:
“Perdy, thou peasant Knight mightst rightly reed
Me then to be full base and evill borne,
If I would beare behinde a burden of such scorne.
“But, as thou hast thy steed forlorne with shame,
So fare on foote till thou another gayne,
And let thy Lady likewise doe the same,
Or beare her on thy backe with pleasing payne,
And prove thy manhood on the billowes vayne.”
With which rude speach his Lady much displeased
Did him reprove, yet could him not restrayne,
And would on her owne Palfrey him have eased,
For pitty of his Dame whom she saw so diseased.
Sir Calepine her thanckt; yet, inly wroth
Against her Knight, her gentlenesse refused,
And carelesly into the river goth,
As in despight to be so fowle abused
Of a rude churle, whom often he accused
Of fowle discourtesie, unfit for Knight,
And, strongly wading through the waves unused,
With speare in th’one hand stayd him selfe upright,
With th’other staide his Lady up with steddy might.
And all the while that same discourteous Knight
Stood on the further bancke beholding him;
At whose calamity, for more despight,
He laught, and mockt to see him like to swim:
But when as Calepine came to the brim,
And saw his carriage past that perill well,
Looking at that same Carle with count’nance grim,
His heart with vengeaunce inwardly did swell,
And forth at last did breake in speaches sharpe and fell:
“Unknightly Knight, the blemish of that name,
And blot of all that armes uppon them take,
Which is the badge of honour and of fame,
Loe! I defie thee; and here challenge make,
That thou for ever doe those armes forsake,
And be for ever held a recreant Knight,
Unlesse thou dare, for thy deare Ladies sake
And for thine owne defence, on foote alight
To justifie thy fault gainst me in equall fight.”
The dastard, that did heare him selfe defyde,
Seem’d not to weigh his threatfull words at all,
But laught them out, as if his greater pryde
Did scorne the challenge of so base a thrall;
Or had no courage, or else had no gall.
So much the more was Calepine offended,
That him to no revenge he forth could call,
But both his challenge and him selfe contemned,
No cared as a coward so to be condemned.
But he, nought weighing what he sayd or did,
Turned his steede about another way,
And with his Lady to the Castle rid,
Where was his won: ne did the other stay,
But after went directly as he may,
For his sicke charge some harbour there to seeke;
Where he arriving with the fall of day
Drew to the gate, and there with prayers meeke
And myld entreaty lodging did for her beseeke.
But the rude Porter that no manners had
Did shut the gate against him in his face,
And entraunce boldly unto him forbad:
Nathelesse the Knight, now in so needy case,
Gan him entreat even with submission base,
And humbly praid to let them in that night;
Who to him aunswer’d, that there was no place
Of lodging fit for any errant Knight,
Unlesse that with his Lord he formerly did fight.
“Full loth am I,” (quoth he) “as now at earst
When day is spent, and rest us needeth most,
And that this Lady, both whose sides are pearst
With wounds, is ready to forgo the ghost;
Ne would I gladly combate with mine host,
That should to me such curtesie afford,
Unlesse that I were thereunto enforst:
But yet aread to me, how hight thy Lord,
That doth thus strongly ward the Castle of the Ford?”
“His name,” (quoth he) “if that thou list to learne,
Is hight Sir Turpine, one of mickle might
And manhood rare, but terrible and stearne
In all assaies to every errant Knight,
Because of one that wrought him fowle despight.”
“Ill seemes,” (sayd he) “if he so valiaunt be,
That he should be so sterne to stranger wight;
For seldome yet did living creature see
That curtesie and manhood ever disagree.
“But go thy waies to him, and fro me say,
That here is at his gate an errant Knight,
That house-rome craves; yet would be loth t’assay
The proofe of battell now in doubtfull night,
Or curtesie with rudenesse to requite:
Yet, if he needes will fight, crave leave till morne,
And tell with all the lamentable plight
In which this Lady languisheth forlorne,
That pitty craves, as he of woman was yborne.”
The groome went streight way in, and to his Lord
Declar’d the message which that Knight did move:
Who, sitting with his Lady then at bord,
Not onely did not his demaund approve,
But both himselfe revil’d and eke his love;
Albe his Lady, that Blandina hight,
Him of ungentle usage did reprove,
And earnestly entreated, that they might
Finde favour to be lodged there for that same night.
Yet would he not perswaded be for ought,
Ne from his currish will a whit reclame.
Which answer when the groome returning brought
To Calepine, his heart did inly flame
With wrathfull fury for so foule a
