Thought sure have pownded him to powder soft,
Or deepe emboweld in the earth entyre:
But Fortune did not with his will conspire;
For, ere his stroke attayned his intent,
The noble childe, preventing his desire,
Under his club with wary boldnesse went,
And smote him on the knee that never yet was bent.
It never yet was bent, ne bent it now,
Albe the stroke so strong and puissant were,
That seem’d a marble pillour it could bow;
But all that leg, which did his body beare,
It crackt throughout, (yet did no bloud appeare,)
So as it was unable to support
So huge a burden on such broken geare,
But fell to ground, like to a lumpe of durt;
Whence he assayd to rise, but could not for his hurt.
Eftsoones the Prince to him full nimbly stept,
And least he should recover foote againe,
His head meant from his shoulders to have swept.
Which when the Lady saw, she cryde amaine;
“Stay, stay, Sir Knight! for love of God abstaine
From that unwares ye weetlesse doe intend;
Slay not that Carle, though worthy to be slaine,
For more on him doth then him selfe depend:
My life will by his death have lamentable end.”
He staide his hand according her desire,
Yet nathemore him suffred to arize;
But, still suppressing, gan of her inquire,
What meaning mote those uncouth words comprize,
That in that villaines health her safety lies;
That, were no might in man, nor heart in Knights,
Which durst her dreaded reskue enterprize,
Yet heavens them selves, that favour feeble rights,
Would for it selfe redresse, and punish such despights.
Then bursting forth in teares, which gushed fast
Like many water streames, awhile she stayd;
Till the sharpe passion being overpast,
Her tongue to her restord, then thus she sayd:
“Nor heavens, nor men, can me, most wretched mayd,
Deliver from the doome of my desart,
The which the God of love hath on me layd,
And damned to endure this direfull smart,
For penaunce of my proud and hard rebellious hart.
“In prime of youthly yeares, when first the flowre
Of beauty gan to bud, and bloosme delight,
And Nature me endu’d with plenteous dowre
Of all her gifts, that pleasde each living sight,
I was belov’d of many a gentle Knight,
And sude and sought with all the service dew:
Full many a one for me deepe groand and sight,
And to the dore of death for sorrow drew,
Complayning out on me that would not on them rew.
“But let them love that list, or live or die,
Me list not die for any lovers doole;
Ne list me leave my loved libertie
To pitty him that list to play the foole;
To love my selfe I learned had in schoole.
Thus I triumphed long in lovers paine,
And, sitting carelesse on the scorners stoole,
Did laugh at those that did lament and plaine;
But all is now repayd with interest againe.
“For loe! the winged God that woundeth harts
Causde me be called to accompt therefore;
And for revengement of those wrongfull smarts,
Which I to others did inflict afore,
Addeem’d me to endure this penaunce sore;
That in this wize, and this unmeete array,
With these two lewd companions, and no more,
Disdaine and Scorne, I through the world should stray,
Till I have sav’d so many as I earst did slay.”
“Certes,” (sayd then the Prince) “the God is just,
That taketh vengeaunce of his peoples spoile;
For were no law in love, but all that lust
Might them oppresse, and painefully turmoile,
His kingdome would continue but a while.
But tell me, Lady, wherefore doe you beare
This bottle thus before you with such toile,
And eeke this wallet at your backe arreare,
That for these Carles to carry much more comely were?”
“Here in this bottle” (sayd the sory Mayd)
“I put the tears of my contrition,
Till to the brim I have it full defrayd:
And in this bag, which I behinde me don,
I put repentaunce for things past and gon.
Yet is the bottle leake, and bag so torne,
That all which I put in fals out anon,
And is behinde me trodden downe of Scorne,
Who mocketh all my paine, and laughs the more I mourn.”
The Infant hearkned wisely to her tale,
And wondred much at Cupids judg’ment wise,
That could so meekly make proud hearts avale,
And wreake him selfe on them that him despise.
Then suffred he Disdaine up to arise,
Who was not able up him selfe to reare,
By meanes his leg, through his late luckelesse prise,
Was crackt in twaine, but by his foolish feare
Was holpen up, who him supported standing neare.
But being up he lookt againe aloft,
As if he never had received fall;
And with sterne eye-browes stared at him oft,
As if he would have daunted him withall:
And standing on his tiptoes, to seeme tall,
Downe on his golden feete he often gazed,
As if such pride the other could apall;
Who was so far from being ought amazed,
That he his lookes despised, and his boast dispraized.
Then turning backe unto that captive thrall,
Who all this while stood there beside them bound,
Unwilling to be knowne or seene at all,
He from those bands weend him to have unwound;
But when approaching neare he plainely found
It was his owne true groome, the gentle Squire,
He thereat wext exceedingly astound,
And him did oft embrace, and oft admire,
Ne could with seeing satisfie his great desire.
Meane-while the Salvage man, when he beheld
That huge great foole oppressing th’other Knight,
Whom with his weight unweldy downe he held,
He flew upon him like a greedy kight
Unto some carrion offered to his sight;
And, downc him plucking, with his nayles and teeth
Gan him to hale, and teare, and scratch, and bite;
And, from him taking his owne whip, therewith
So sore him scourgeth that the bloud downe followeth.
And sure I weene, had not the Ladies cry
Procured the Prince his cruell
