The warlike Britonefs her foon address'd,"
And with fuch uncouth Welcome did receive
Her feigned Paramour, her forced Guest,
That being forc'd his Saddle foon to leave,
Himself he did of his new Love deceive:
And made himself th' Enfample of his Folly.
Which done, he paffed forth not taking leave,
And left him now as fad, as whilom jolly,
Well warned to beware with whom he dar'd to dally.
XXXVII.
Which when his other Company beheld,
They to his Succour ran with ready Aid:
And finding him unable once to weld,
They reared him on Horseback, and up-stay'd,
Till on his way they had him forth convey'd :
And all the way with wondrous Grief of Mind
And Shame, he fhew'd himself to be dismay'd,
More for the Love which he had left behind,
Than that which he had to Sir Paridel refign'd.
XXXVIII.
Nath'lefs, he forth did march well as he might,
And made good Semblance to his Company,
Diffembling his Disease and evil Plight:
Till that e'er long they chaunced to efpy
Two other Knights, that towards them did ply
With speedy Course, as bent to charge them new.
Whom, when as Blandamore, approaching nigh,
Perceiv'd to be fuch as they feem'd in view,
He was full woe, and 'gan his former Grief renew.
XXXIX.
For th' one of them he perfectly defcry'd
To be Sir Scudamore, by that he bore,
The God of Love, with Wings displayed wide;
Whom mortally he hated evermore,
Both for his Worth (that all Men did adore)
And eke becaufe his Love he won by right:
Which when he thought, it grieved him full fore,
That through the Bruifes of his former Fight,
He now unable was to wreak his old Despight.
For thy, he thus to Paridel befpake;
Fair Sir, of Friendship let me now you pray,
That as I late adventured for your fake,
The Hurts whereof me now from Battle stay,
Ye will me now with like good turn repay,
And juftify my Caufe on yonder Knight.
Ah Sir! faid Paridel do not dismay
Your felf for this; my felf will for you fight,
As ye have done for me: the Left Hand rubs the Right.
XLI.
With that, he put his Spurs unto his Steed,
With Spear in Reft, and toward him did fare,
Like Shaft out of a Bow preventing Speed.
But Scudamore was fhortly well aware
Of his approach, and 'gan himself prepare
Him to receive with Entertainment meet,
So furiously they met, that either bare
The other down under their Horfes Feet,
That what of them became, themselves did scarcely weet.
As when two Billows in the Irish Sounds,
Forcibly driven with contrary Tides,
Do meet together, each aback rebounds
With roaring Rage; and dashing on all fides,
That filleth all the Sea with Foam, divides
The doubtful Current into divers ways;
So fell thofe two in fpite of both their Prides:
But Scudamore himself did foon up-raife,
And mounting light, his Foe for lying long upbrays.
XLIII.
Who rolled on an heap, lay ftill in Swound,
All careless of his Taunt and bitter Rail :
Till that the reft him feeing lie on ground,
Ran haftily, to weet what did him ail.
Where, finding that the Breath 'gan him to fail,
With bufy Care they ftrove him to awake,
And doft his Helmet, and undid his Mail:
So much they did, that at the last they brake
His Slumber, yet so mazed, that he nothing spake.
Which when, as Blandamore beheld, he faid,
Falfe Faitour, Scudamore, that haft by fleight
And foul Advantage this good Knight dismay'd,
A Knight much better than thy felf behight;
Well falls it thee that I am not in Plight,
This day, to wreak the Damage by thee done:
Such is thy wont, that fill when any Knight
Is weakned, then thou doft him over-run ;
So haft thou to thy felf falfe Honour often won.
XLV.
He little answer'd, but in manly Heart
His mighty Indignation did forbear;
Which was not yet fo fecret, but some part
Thereof did in his frowning Face appear:
Like as a gloomy Cloud, the which doth bear
An hideous Storm, is by the Northern blast
Quite over-blown, yet doth not pass so clear,
But that it all the Sky doth over-cast
With Darkness dread, and threatens all the World to waffe.
XLVI.
Ah gentle Knight, then false Dueffa faid,
Why do ye ftrive for Lady's Love so fore,
Whose chief Defire is Love and friendly Aid
'Mongft gentle Knights to nourish evermore?
Ne be ye wroth, Sir Scudamore, therefore,
That the your Love lift love another Knight,
Ne do your felf diflike a whit the more;
For, Love is free, and led with Self. Delight,
Ne will enforced be with Maifterdom or Might.
XLVII.
So falfe Duela: but vile Ate thus;
Both foolish Knights, I can but laugh at both, That strive and ftorm with Stir outrageous, For her that each of you alike doth loath, And loves another, with whom now the go'th In lovely wife, and fleeps, and sports, and plays; Whilft both you here with many a cursed Oath, Swear fhe is yours, and ftir up bloody Frays, To wip a Willow-bough, whilst other wears the Bays.
Vile Hag, faid Scudamore, why doft thou lye? And falfly feek'ft a vertuous Wight to shame? Fond Knight, faid fhe, the thing that with this Eye 1 faw, why fhould I doubt to tell the fame ? Then tell, quoth Blandamore, and fear no blame, Tell what thou faw'ft, maulger who-fo it hears. Ifaw, quoth fhe, a ftranger Knight, whofe Name I wote not well, but in his Shield he bears (That well I wote) the heads of many broken Spears XLIX.
I faw him have your Amoret at will,
I faw him kifs, I faw him her embrace,
I saw him fleep with her all Night his fill,
All many Nights, and many by in place,
That prefent were to teftify the cafe.
Which when as Scudamore did hear, his Heart Was thrill'd with inward Grief; as when in Chace The Parthian ftrikes a Stag with fhivering Dart, The Beaft aftonifh'd ftands in middeft of his Smart.
So flood Sir Scudamore when this he heard ;
Ne word he had to fpeak for great difmay,
But look'd on Glauce grim, who wox affeard
Of Outrage for the words which he heard fay,
Albe untrue the wift them by affay.
But Blandamore, when-as he did efpy,
His change of Chear, that Anguish did bewray,
He wox full blith, as he had got thereby,
And 'gan thereat to triumph without Victory.
Lo! Recreant, faid he, the fruitless end
Of thy vain Boaft, and Spoil of Love mifgotten,
Whereby the Name of Knighthood thou doft fhend,
And all true Lovers with difhonour blotten!
All things not rooted well, will foon be rotten.
Fie, fie, falfe Knight, then falfe Duefa cry'd,
Unworthy Life, that Love with Guile haft gotten;
Be thou, where-ever thou do go or ride,
Loathed of Ladies all, and of all Knights defy'd.
But Scudamore (for paffing great despite)
Staid not to aunfwer, fcarcely did refrain,
But that in all thofe Knights and Ladies fight,
He for Revenge had guiltless Glauce flain :
But being paft, he thus began amain;
Falfe Traytor Squire, falfe Squire of falseft Knight, Why doth mine Hand from thine Avenge abstain, Whose Lord hath done my Love this foul despite ? Why do I not it wreak on thee, now in my Might ? LIII.
Difcourteous, difloyal Britomart,
Untrue to God, and unto Man unjust,
What Vengeance due can equal thy Defert,
That haft with fhameful Spot of finful Luft
Defil'd the Pledge committed to thy trust?
Let ugly Shame and endless Infamy
Colour thy Name with foul Reproach's Ruft; Yet thou falfe Squire his Fault fhalt dear aby, And with thy Punishment his Penance shalt fupply. LIV.
The aged Dame him seeing fo enrag'd,
Was dead with Fear; nathless as need requir'd, His flaming Fury fought to have affuag'd With fober Words, that Sufferance defir'd, Till time the trial of her Truth expir'd: And evermore fought Britomart to clear. But he the more with furious Rage was fir'd, And thrice his Hand to kill her did uprear, And thrice he drew it back: fo did at laft forbear.
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