And with reprochfull words him thus bespake on hight.
“Art thou he, traytor, that with treason vile
Hast slaine my men in this unmanly maner,
And now triumphest in the piteous spoile
Of these poore folk, whose soules with black dishonor
And foule defame doe decke thy bloudy baner?
The meede whereof shall shortly be thy shame,
And wretched end which still attendeth on her.”
With that him selfe to battell he did frame;
So did his forty yeomen, which there with him came.
With dreadfull force they all did him assaile,
And round about with boystrous strokes oppresse,
That on his shield did rattle like to haile
In a great tempest; that in such distresse
He wist not to which side him to addresse:
And evermore that craven cowherd Knight
Was at his backe with heartlesse heedinesse,
Wayting if he un wares him murther might;
For cowardize doth still in villany delight.
Whereof whenas the Prince was well aware,
He to him turnd with furious intent,
And him against his powre gan to prepare;
Like a fierce Bull, that being busie bent
To fight with many foes about him ment,
Feeling some curre behinde his heeles to bite,
Turnes him about with fell avengement:
So likewise turnde the Prince upon the Knight,
And layd at him amaine with all his will and might.
Who, when he once his dreadfull strokes had tasted,
Durst not the furie of his force abyde,
But turn’d abacke, and to retyre him hasted
Through the thick prease, there thinking him to hyde:
But, when the Prince had once him plainely eyde,
He foot by foot him followed alway,
Ne would him suffer once to shrinke asyde,
But joyning close huge lode at him did lay;
Who flying still did ward, and warding fly away.
But, when his foe he still so eager saw,
Unto his heeles himselfe he did betake,
Hoping unto some refuge to withdraw:
Ne would the Prince him ever foot forsake
Where so he went, but after him did make.
He fled from roome to roome, from place to place,
Whylest every joynt for dread of death did quake,
Still looking after him that did him chace,
That made him evermore increase his speedie pace.
At last he up into the chamber came
Whereas his love was sitting all alone,
Wayting what tydings of her folke became.
There did the Prince him overtake anone,
Crying in vaine to her him to bemone;
And with his sword him on the head did smyte,
That to the ground he fell in senselesse swone:
Yet, whether thwart or flatly it did lyte,
The tempred steele did not into his braynepan byte.
Which when the Ladie saw, with great affright
She starting up began to shrieke aloud;
And with her garment covering him from sight,
Seem’d under her protection him to shroud;
And falling lowly at his feet her bowd
Upon her knee, intreating him for grace,
And often him besought, and prayd, and vowd,
That with the ruth of her so wretched case,
He stayd his second strooke, and did his hand abase.
Her weed she then withdrawing did him discover;
Who now come to himselfe yet would not rize,
But still did lie as dead, and quake, and quiver,
That even the Prince his basenesse did despize;
And eke his Dame, him seeing in such guize,
Gan him recomfort and from ground to reare:
Who rising up at last in ghastly wize,
Like troubled ghost, did dreadfully appeare,
As one that had no life him left through former feare.
Whom when the Prince so deadly saw dismayd,
He for such basenesse shamefully him shent,
And with sharpe words did bitterly upbrayd:
“Vile cowheard dogge! now doe I much repent,
That ever I this life unto thee lent,
Whereof thou, caytive, so unworthie art,
That both thy love, for lacke of hardiment,
And eke thy selfe, for want of manly hart,
And eke all knights hast shamed with this knightlesse part.
“Yet further hast thou heaped shame to shame,
And crime to crime, by this thy cowheard feare:
For first, it was to thee reprochfull blame
To erect this wicked custome, which I heare
Gainst errant Knights and Ladies thou dost reare;
Whom when thou mayst thou dost of arms despoile,
Or of their upper garment which they weare;
Yet doest thou not with manhood, but with guile,
Maintaine this evil use, thy foes thereby to foile.
“And lastly, in approvance of thy wrong,
To shew such faintnesse and foule cowardize
Is greatest shame; for oft it falles, that strong
And valiant Knights doe rashly enterprize
Either for fame, or else for exercize,
A wrongfull quarrell to maintaine by fight;
Yet have through prowesse and their brave emprize
Gotten great worship in this worldes sight:
For greater force there needs to maintaine wrong then right.
“Yet, since thy life unto this Ladie fayre
I given have, live in reproch and scorne,
Ne ever armes ne ever knighthood dare
Hence to professe; for shame is to adorne
With so brave badges one so basely borne:
But onely breath, sith that I did forgive.”
So having from his craven bodie torne
Those goodly armes, he them away did give,
And onely suffred him this wretched life to live.
There whilest he thus was setling things above,
Atwene that Ladie myld and recreant knight,
To whom his life he graunted for her love,
He gan bethinke him in what perilous plight
He had behynd him left that salvage wight
Amongst so many foes, whom sure he thought
By this quite slaine in so unequall fight:
Therefore descending backe in haste he sought
If yet he were alive, or to destruction brought.
There he him found environed about
With slaughtred bodies which his hand had slaine,
And laying yet afresh, with courage stout,
Upon the rest that did alive remaine;
Whom he likewise right sorely did constraine,
Like scattred sheepe, to seeke for safetie,
After he gotten had with busie paine
Some of their weapons which thereby did lie,
With which he layd about, and made them fast to flie.
Whom when the Prince
