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Soone as she heard the name of Artegall,

xxix Her hart did leape, and all her hart-strings tremble, For sudden joy, and secret feare withall, And all her vitall powres with motion nimble, To succour it, themselves gan there assemble, That by the swift recourse of flushing blood Right plaine appeard, though she it would dissemble,

And fayned still her former angry mood, Thinking to hide the depth by troubling of the flood.

XXX

When Glauce thus gan wisely all upknit ;

Ye gentle Knights, whom fortune here hath brought,
To be spectators of this uncouth fit,
Which secret fate hath in this Ladie wrought,
Against the course of kind, ne mervaile nought,
Ne thenceforth feare the thing that hethertoo
Hath troubled both your mindes with idle thought,

Fearing least she your loves away should woo,
Feared in vaine, sith meanes ye see there wants theretoo.

xxxi

And you Sir Artegall, the salvage knight,

Henceforth may not disdaine, that womans hand
Hath conquered you anew in second fight :
For whylome they have conquerd sea and land,
And heaven it selfe, that nought may them withstand.
Ne henceforth be rebellious unto love,
That is the crowne of knighthood, and the band

Of noble minds derived from above,
Which being knit with vertue, never will remove.

xxxii

And you faire Ladie knight, my dearest Dame,

Relent the rigour of your wrathfull will,
Whose fire were better turn'd to other flame ;
And wiping out remembrance of all ill,
Graunt him your grace, but so that he fulfill

The penance, which ye shall to him empart :
For lovers heaven must passe by sorrowes hell.

Thereat full inly blushod Britomart ;
But Artegall close smyling joy'd in secret hart.

Yet durst he not make love so suddenly,

xxxiii
Ne thinke th'affection of her hart to draw
From one to other so quite contrary :
Besides her modest countenance he saw
So goodly grave, and full of princely aw,
That it his ranging fancie did refraine,
And looser thoughts to lawfull bounds withdraw ;

Whereby the passion grew more fierce and faine, · Like to a stubborne steede whom strong hand would

restraine.

But Scudamour whose hart twixt doubtfull feare xxxiv

And feeble hope hung all this while suspence,
Desiring of his Amoret to heare
Some gladfull newes and sure intelligence,
Her thus bespake; But Sir without offence
Mote I request you tydings of my love,
My Amoret, sith you her freed fro thence,

Where she captived long, great woes did prove ;
That where ye left, I may her seeke, as doth behove.

To whom thus Britomart, Certes Sir knight,

What is of her become, or whether reft,
I can not unto you aread a right.
For from that time I from enchaunters theft
Her freed, in which ye her all hopelesse left,
I her preserv'd from perill and from feare,
And evermore from villenie her kept :

Ne ever was there wight to me more deare
Then she, ne unto whom I more true love did beare.

Till on a day as through a desert wyld

Xxxvi We travelled, both wearie of the way We did alight, and sate in shadow myld ; Where fearelesse I to sleepe me downe did lay. But when as I did out of sleepe abray, I found her not, where I her left whyleare, But thought she wandred was, or gone astray.

I cald her loud, I sought her farre and neare ; But no where could her find, nor tydings of her heare.

When Scudamour those heavie tydings heard, xxxvii

His hart was thrild with point of deadly feare ;
Ne in his face or bloud or life appeard,
But senselesse stood, like to a mazed steare,
That yet of mortall stroke the stound doth beare.
Till Glauce thus ; Faire Sir, be nought dismayd
With needelesse dread, till certaintie ye heare :

For yet she may be safe though somewhat strayd ;
Its best to hope the best, though of the worst affrayd.

Nathlesse he hardly of her chearefull speech Xxxviji

Did comfort take, or in his troubled sight
Shew'd change of better cheare : so sore a breach
That sudden newes had made into his spright;
Till Britomart him fairely thus behight;
Great cause of sorrow certes Sir ye have :
But comfort take : for by this heavens light

I vow, you dead or living not to leave,
Till I her find, and wreake on him that her did reave.

Therewith he rested, and well pleased was. xxxix
So peace being confirm'd amongst them all,
They tooke their steeds, and forward thence did pas
Unto some resting place, which mote befall,

All being guided by Sir Artegall.
Where goodly solace was unto them made,
And dayly feasting both in bowre and hall,
Untill that they their wounds well healed had,
And wearie limmes recur'd after late usage bad.

In all which time, Sir Artegall made way

Unto the love of noble Britomart,
And with meeke service and much suit did lay
Continuall siege unto her gentle hart,
Which being whylome launcht with lovely dart,
More eath was new impression to receive,
How ever she her paynd with womanish art

To hide her wound, that none might it perceive :
Vaine is the art that seekes it selfe for to deceive.

So well he woo'd her, and so well he wrought her, xli
With faire entreatie and sweet blandishment,
That at length unto a bay he brought her,
So as she to his speeches was content
To lend an eare, and softly to relent.
At last through many vowes which forth he pour’d,
And many othes, she yeelded her consents

To be his love, and take him for her Lord,
Till they with mariage meet might finish that accord.

XXX

Arthegall and the Giant

Book V, Canto II, xxx-liv
THERE they beheld a mighty Gyant stand

Upon a rocke, and holding forth on hie
An huge great paire of ballance in his hand,
With which he boasted in his surquedrie,
That all the world he would weigh equallie,

If ought he had the same to counterpoys.
For want whereof he weighed vanity,

And fild his ballaunce full of idle toys :
Yet was admired much of fooles, women, and boys.

xxxi

He sayd that he would all the earth uptake,

And all the sea, devided each from either :
So would he of the fire one ballaunce make,
And one of th’ayre, without or wind, or wether .
Then would he ballaunce heaven and hell together,
And all that did within them all containe ;
Of all whose weight, he would not misse a fether.

And looke what surplus did of each remaine,
He would to his owne part restore the same againe.

xxxii

For why, he sayd they all unequall were,

And had encroched uppon others share,
Like as the sea (which plaine he shewed there)
Had worne the earth, so did the fire the aire,
So all the rest did others parts empaire.
And so were realmes and nations run awry.
All which he undertooke for to repaire,

In sort as they were formed aunciently ;
And all things would reduce unto equality.

Therefore the vulgar did about him flocke, Xxxiii

And cluster thicke unto his leasings vaine,
Like foolish flies about an hony crocke,
In hope by him great benefite to gaine,
And uncontrolled freedome to obtaine.
All which when Artegall did see, and heare,
How he mis-led the simple peoples traine,

In sdeignfull wize he drew unto him neare,
And thus unto him spake, without regard or feare.

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