 Prologue, Book 5, The Legend of Artigale. The Fifth Book of the Fairy Queen, Containing the Legend of Artigale or of Justice So oft is I with state of present time the image of the antique world compare. When his man's age was in his freshest prime, and the first blossom of fair virtue bear, such odds I find to which those and these which are, as that, through long continuance of his course, misseems the world is running quite out of square from the first point of his appointed source, and being once amiss grows daily worse and worse. For from the golden age that first was named, it's now a terse to become a stony one. And men themselves, the first at which were framed of earthly mold and formed of flesh and bone, are now transformed into hardest stone, such as behind their backs, so backward bread were thrown by Pyrrha and Ducalion, and if then those may any worse be read, they into that ere long will be degenerate. Let none then blame me, if in discipline of virtue and of civil uses lore, I do not form them to the common line of present days which are corrupted sore. But to the antique use which was of yore, when good was only for itself desired, and all men sought their own, and none no more. When justice was not for most meed, outdired, but simple truth did reign, and was of all admired. For that which all men then did virtue call is now called vice, and that which vice was height is now height virtue, and so used of all. Right now is wrong, and wrong that was is right, as all things else in time are changed quite. No wonder for the heavens revolution is wandered far from where at first was height, and so do make contrary constitution of all the slower world toward his dissolution. For whoso list into the heavens look, and search the courses of the rolling spheres, so find that from the point where they first took their setting forth in these few thousand years, they are all wandered much. For that same golden fleecy ram which bore frixes and hella from their step-dame spheres hath now forgot where he was plast of yore, and shouldered hath the bull, which fair Europa bore, and eek the bull hath with his bow bent horn so hardly butted those two twins of Joe, that they have crushed the crab and quite him-born into the great Nimean lion's grove. So now all range, and do at random rove, out of their proper places far away, and all this world with them amiss do move, and all his creatures from their course astray, till they arrive at their last ruinous decay. Nay is that same great glorious lamp of light that doth illumine all these lesser fires. In better case, it keeps his course more right, but is miscarried with the other spheres, for since the term of fourteen hundred fires, that learned Ptolemy his height did take. He is declined from that mark of theirs nigh thirty minutes to the southern lake. That makes me fear in time he will us quite forsake. And if to those Egyptian wizards old which in star-read were want have best in sight faith may be given, it is by them told that since the time they first took the sun's height, four times his place he shifted hath in sight, and twice hath risen where he now doth west, and wested twice where he ought rise aright. But most is Mars amiss of all the rest, and next to him old Saturn that was want be best. For during Saturn's ancient reign it said that all the world with goodness did abound. All loved virtue, no man was afraid of force, no fraud in white was to be found. No war was known, no dreadful trumpet sound. Peace universal reigned amongst men and beasts, and all things freely grew out of the ground. Justice set high adored with solemn feasts, and to all people did divide her dread behest. Most sacred virtue she of all the rest, resembling God in his imperial might, whose sovereign power is herein most expressed, that both to good and bad he dealeth right, and all his works with justice hath bedight, that power he also doth to prince's lend, and makes them like himself in glorious sight, to sit in his own seat his cause to end, and rule his people right as he doth recommend. Dread sovereign goddess that dost highest sit in seat of judgment in the Almighty's stead, and with magnificent might and wondrous wit, dost to thy people righteous doom are read, that furthest nations fills with awful dread, pardon the boldness of thy basest thrall, that dare discourse of so divine a read, as thy great justice praise it over all, the instrument whereof lo here thy artigal. End of Prologue, Book 5, The Legend of Artigal. End of Prologue, Book 5, The Legend of Artigal. Though virtue then were held in highest price, in those old times of which I do entreat, yet then likewise the wicked seed of vice began to spring which shortly grew full great, and with their bows the gentle plants did beat. But evermore some of the virtuous race rose up, inspired with heroic heat, had cropped the branches of the sciant base, and with strong hand their fruitful rankness did deface. Such first was Bacchus, that with furious might all the east before untamed did overrun, and wrong repressed and established right, which lawless men had formerly foredone. Where justice first her princely rule begun. Next Hercules his likened sample shewed, who all the west with equal conquest won, and monstrous tyrants with his club subdued, the club of justice dread, with kingly power endued. And such was he of whom I have to tell the champion of true justice Artigal, whom, as ye lately moat remember well, and hard adventure, which did then befall, into redoubted peril forth did call. That was to succor a distressed dame, whom a strong tyrant did unjustly thrawl, and from the heritage which she did claim, did with strong hand withhold, Grand Torto was his name. Wherefore the lady, which Irene height, did to the fairy queen her way address, to whom complaining her afflicted plight, she her besought of gracious redress, that sovereign queen, that mighty empress, whose glory is to aid all suppliance poor, and of weak princes to be patroness, chose Artigal to write her, to restore, for that to her he seemed best skilled in righteous lore. For Artigal injustice was upbrought, even from the cradle of his infancy, and all the depth of rightful doom was taught, by great industry, whilst here on earth she lived mortally. For till the world from his perfection fell, and to all filth and foul iniquity, astrayer here amongst earthly mended dwell, and in the rules of justice them instructed well. Whilst through the world she walked in this sort, upon a day she found this gentle child, amongst his peers playing his childish sport, whom seeing fit, and with no crime defiled, she did allure with gifts and speeches mild to end with her. So thence him far she brought, into a cave, from company exiled, in which she nursled him till years he wrought, and all the discipline of justice there him taught. There she him taught to weigh both right and wrong, in equal balance with due recompense, and equity to measure out along, according to the line of conscience, when so it needs with rigor to dispense. Of all the which, for want there of mankind, she caused him to make experience upon wild beasts, which she in woods did find, with wrongful power oppressing others of their kind. Thus she him trained, and thus she him taught, in all the skill of deeming wrong and right, until the ripeness of man's years he wrought, that even wild beasts did fear his awful sight, and men admired his overruling might. Nay, any lived on ground that durst withstand his dreadful haste, much less him match in fight, or bide the horror of his reekful hand, when so he list and wrath lift up his steely brand. Which steely brand, to make him dreaded more, she gave unto him, gotten by her slight and earnest search, where it was kept in store, in Jove's eternal house, unwist of white, since he himself it used in that great fight against the titans, that while him rebelled against highest heaven, Criseur it was height, Criseur that all other swords excelled, well proved in that same day, when Jove those giants quelled. More of most perfect metal it was made, tempered with adamant amongst the same, and garnished all with gold upon the blade, in goodly wise, whereof it took his name, and was of no less virtue than of fame. For there no substance was, so firm and hard, but it would pierce or cleave, where so it came, nay, any armor could his dent outward, but where so ever it did light, it throughly shard. Now when the world with sin gann to abound, Australia loathing linger here to space, amongst wicked men, in whom no truth she found, returned to heaven, whence she derived her race. Where she hath now an everlasting place, amongst those twelve signs, which nightly we do see, the heavens bright shining Baudric too in chase, and is the virgin, sixth in her degree, and next herself her righteous balance hanging be. But when she parted hence, she left her groom, an iron man which did on her attend always to execute her steadfast doom, and willed him with artigal to wend, and do whatever thing he did intend. His name was Tullus, made of iron mould, immovable, resistless, without end, who in his hand an iron flail did hold, with which he threshed out falsehood, and did truth unfold. He now went with him in this new inquest, him for to aid if aid he chance to need, against that cruel tyrant which oppressed the fair Irena, with his foul misdeed, and kept the crown in which she should succeed. And now together on their way they been, whence they saw a squire in squalid weed, lamenting sore his sorrowful sad tine, with many bitter tears shed from his blubbered eye. To whom, as they approached, they aspired a sorry sight as ever seen with eye, an headless lady lying him beside in her own blood, all walled woefully, that her gay clothes did in discolour dye. Much was he moved at that rueful sight, and flamed with zeal of vengeance inwardly, he asked, who had that dame so foully dite, or whether his own hand, or whether other white? Ah, woe is me, and well away, quote he, bursting forth tears like springs out of a bank, that ever eye this dismal day did see. Full far was eye from thinking such a prank, yet little loss it were, and Mickle thank, if I should grant that I have done the same, that I moat drink the cup whereof she drank, but that I should die guilty of the blame, the which another did, who now is fled with shame. Who was it, then, said Artigal, that wrought, and why? Do it declare unto me true. A night, said he, if night he may be thought, that did his hand in lady's blood in brew, and for no cause, but as I shall you shoe, this day, as I in solace sat hereby, with a fair love whose loss I now do rue, there came this night, having in company this luckless lady, which now here doth headless lie. He, whether mine seemed fair in his eye, or that he waxed weary of his own, would change with me. But I did it deny. So did the ladies both, as may be known, but he, whose spirit was with pride upblown, would not so rest contented with his right, but having from his coarser her down thrown, from me reft mine away by lawless might, and on his steed her set to bear her out of sight. Which when his lady saw, she followed fast, and on him catching hold again loud to cry, not so to leave her, not a way to cast, but rather of his hand besought to die. With that his sword he drew all wrathfully, and at one stroke cropped off her head with scorn, in that same place where as it now doth lie. So he, my love away with him hath borne, and left me here, both his and mine own love to mourn. A red said he, which way then did he make, and by what marks may he be known again? To hope, quote he, him soon to overtake, that hence so long departed is but vain. But yet he pricked over yonder plain, and as I marked bore upon his shield, by which it's easy him to know again, a broken sword within a bloody field, expressing well his nature, which the same did wield. No sooner said, but straight he after sent his iron page, who him pursued so light as that it seemed above the ground he went, for he was swift as swallow in her flight, and strong as lion in his lordly might. It was not long before he overtook Sir Sanglier, so cleaped was that night, whom at the first he guess'd by his look, and by the other marks which of his shield he took. He bade him stay, and back with him retire. Who full of scorn'd to be commanded so, the lady to a light did eff'd require, while as he reformered that uncivil foe, and straight at him with all his force did go, who moved no more therewith than when a rock is lightly stricken with some stone's throw, but slow him leaping, lend him such a knock that on the ground he laid him like a senseless block. And ere he could himself re-cure again, him in his iron paw he sees'd had, that when he waked out of his wear'rless pain, he found himself unwist so ill-bestad that limb he could not wag. Thence he him led, bound like a beast appointed to the stall. The sight whereof the lady saw a dread, and feigned to fly for fear of being thrall, but he her quickly stayed, and forced to wend with all. When to the place they came where Artigal, by that same careful squire did then abide, he gently gan him to demand of all, that did betwixt him, and that squire betide. Who with stern countenance and indignant pride did answer, that of all he guiltless stood, and his accuser thereupon defied? For neither he did shed that lady's blood, nor took away his love, but his own proper good. Well, did the squire perceive himself too weak to answer his defiance in the field, and rather chose his challenge off to break than to approve his right with spear and shield? And rather guilty chose himself to yield. But Artigal, by signs perceiving plain, that he it was not what's that lady killed, but that strange night the fairer love to gain did cast about by slight the truth, there out to strain, and said, Now sure this doubtful cause's right can hardly but by sacrament betride, or else by ordeal, or by bloody fight, that ill perhaps moatfall to either side. But if ye please, that I your cause decide, perhaps I may all further quarrel end, so ye will swear my judgment to abide, there too they both did frankly condescend, and to his doom with listful ears did both attend. Sith then said he, ye both the dead deny, and both the living lady claim your right. Let both the dead and living equally divided be betwixt you here in sight, and each of either take his share a right. But look, who does dissent from this my red, he for a twelve months day shall in despite bear for his penance that same lady's head, to witness to the world that she by him is dead. Well pleased with that doom with songlier, and offered straight the lady to be slain, but that same squire to whom she was more dear, when as he saw she should be cut in twain, did yield. She rather should with him remain alive, than to himself be shared to dead. And rather than his love should suffer pain, he chose with shame to bear that lady's head, true love despises the shame when life is called in dread. Whom, when so willing, Artigal perceived? Not so thou, squire, he said, but thine I deem the living lady, which from thee he reaved. For worthy thou of her dost rightly seem. And you, sir Knight, that love so light esteem as that ye would for little leave the same, take here your own, that doth you best beseem, and with it bear the burden of defame, your own dead lady's head, to tell abroad your shame. That sanglier disdained much his doom, and sternly again repine at his behest. No would for auto-bay his did become, to bear that lady's head before his breast, until that talus had his pride repressed, and forced him, Maugrae, at up to rear, who, when he saw it bootless to resist, he took it up, and thence with him did bear, as rated spaniel takes his burden up for fear. Which did that squire, sir Artigal, adore? For his great justice held in high regard, and, as his squire him offered evermore, to serve, for want of other meat reward, and went with him on his adventure hard. But he there too would by no means consent, but leaving him forth on his journey farred. No white with him but only talus went, they too enough to encounter, and whole regiment. End of Canto I, Book Five, the Legend of Artigal. Book Five, Canto II, of the Fairy Queen. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Zhu, the Fairy Queen, by Edmund Spencer. Book Five, the Legend of Artigal. Canto II, Artigal hears a florimel, does with the pagan fight. Him slays, drowns Lady Monera, does raise her castle quite. Not is more honourable to a knight, nay better doth beseem brave chivalry than to defend the feeble in their right, and wrong redress in such as when the rye. While ome, those great heroes got thereby their greatest glory for their rightful deeds, and place deserved with the gods on high. Herein the no bless of this night exceeds, who now to perils great, for justice's sake proceeds. To which as he now was upon the way, he chanced to meet a dwarf in hasty course, whom he required his forward haste to stay, till he of tidings moat with him discourse. Loth was the dwarf, yet did he stay perforce, and gan of sundry news his store to tell, as to his memory they had recourse. But chiefly of the fairest florimel, how she was found again, and espoused to Marinelle. For this was Donny, florimel's own dwarf, whom, having lost, as ye have heard while here, and finding in the way the scattered scarf, the fortune of her life, long time did fear. But of her health, when Artigal did here, and safe return, he was full inly glad, and asked him where, and when, her bridal cheer, should be salamnised, for if time he had, he would be there, and honour to her spousal add. In three days, quoth he, as I do here, it will be at the castle of the Strand, what time, if nought me let, I will be there, to do her service, so as I am bond. But in my way, at little here beyond, a cursed, cruel Sarazin doth warn, that keeps a bridgeous passage by strong hand, and many errant knights hath therefore done, that makes all men for fear, that passage for to shun. What Mr. White quoth he, and how far hence, is he that doth to travel as such harms? He is, said he, a man of great defence, expert in battle, and in deeds of arms, and more emboldened by the wicked charms with which his daughter doth him still support, having great lordships got, and goodly farms, through strong oppression of his power extort, by which he still them holds, and keeps with strong effort. And daily he his wrongs increaseeth more, for never White he lets to pass that way over his bridge, albeit he rich or poor, but he him makes his passage penny pay, else he doth hold him back or beat away, there too he hath a groom of evil guys, whose scalp is bare, that bondage doth beret, which polls and pills the poor in piteous wise, but he himself, upon the rich, doth tyrannize. His name is height polente, rightly so, for that he is so poisoned and strong, that with his power he all doth or go, and makes them subject to his mighty wrong, and some by slight he eek doth underfong. For on a bridge he custometh to fight, which is but narrow, but exceeding long, and in the same are many trap-falls pite, through which the rider, down doth fall, through oversight, and underneath the same a river flows, that is both swift and dangerous deep with all, into the which, whom so he overthrows, all destitute of help, doth headlong fall. But he himself, through practice usual, leaps forth into the flood and there assays his foe confused, through his sudden fall, that horse and man he equally dismayes, and either both them drowns, or traitorously slays. Then doth he take the spoil of them at will, and to his daughter brings, that dwells thereby, who all that comes doth take, and therewith fill the coffers of her wicked treasury, which she with wrongs have heapered up so high, that many princes she in wealth exceeds, and purchased all the country lying nigh, with the revenue of her plenteous meads. Her name is Munira, agreeing with her deeds. There too she is full fair and rich or tired, with golden hands and silver feet beside, that many lords have her to wife desired, but she them all despiseth for great pride. Now by my life, said he, and God to guide, none other way will I this day betake but by that bridge, whereas he doth abide. Therefore me thither lead. No more he spake, but thither would forthright his ready way did make. Unto the place he came within a while, where on the bridge he ready armoured saw the Sarazin, awaiting for some spoil. Who, as they to the passage gone to draw, a villain to them came with skull all raw, that passage money did of them require, according to the custom of their law. To whom he answered Roth, lo, there thy hire, and with that word him struck, that straight he did expire. Which when the pagan saw, he wexed Roth, and straight himself unto the fight addressed. Nay was Sir Artigal behind, so both together ran with ready spears in rest, right in the midst, whereas they breast to breast should meet, a trap was letten down to fall, into the flood. Straight lept the carl unblessed, well weaning that his foe was fallen with all, but he was well aware, and lept before his fall. There being both together in the flood, they each at other tyrannously flew. Nay ought the water coolered their hot blood, but rather in them kindled collar new. But there the panem, who that use well knew to fight in water, great advantage had, that often times him nigh he overthrew, and eek the coarser whereupon he rad could swim like a fish, whilst he his back bestrad. Which odds, when as Sir Artigal aspired, he saw no way, but close with him in haste, and to him driving strongly down the tide, upon his iron collar grippered fast, that with the straint his wizened nigh he brust. There they together strove and struggled long, either the other from his steed to cast. Nay ever Artigal his gripple strong, for anything would slack, but still upon him hung. As when a dolphin and a seal are met in the wide champion of the ocean plain, with cruel choff their courage as they wet, the masterdom of each by force to gain, and dreadful battle twix them due to rain, they snuff, they snort, they bounce, they rage, they roar, that all the sea disturbed with their train doth fry with foam above the surges' whore. Such was betwixt these two the troublesome uproar. So Artigal at last him forced forsake his horse's back, for dread of being drowned, and to his handy swimming him betake. F. Soons himself he from his hold unbound, and then no odds at all in him he found, for Artigal in swimming skillful was, and durst the depth of any water sound. So ought each night that use of peril has, in swimming be expert through water's force to pass. Then very doubtful was the war's event, uncertain whether had the better side. For both were skilled in that experiment, and both in arms well-trained and throughly tried. But Artigal was better breathed beside, and towards the end grew greater in his might, that his faint foe no longer could abide his puissance, ne' bear himself upright, but from the water to the land betook his flight. But Artigal pursued him still so near with bright croissant in his cruel hand, that as his head he gan a little rear above the brink to tread upon the land, he smote it off, that tumbling on the strand it bit the earth, for very fell despite, and gnashed with his teeth, as if he banned High God, whose goodness he despaired quite, or cursed the hand which did that vengeance on him dite. His corpse was carried down along the lee, whose waters with his filthy blood it stained, but his blasphemous head, that all might see, he pitched upon a pole on high ordained, where many years it afterwards remained to be a mirror to all mighty men, in whose right hands great power is contained, that none of them, the feeble over Wren, but always do their power within just compass pen. That done, unto the castle he did wend, in which the panem's daughter did abide, guarded of many which did her defend, of whom he entrance sought, but was denied, and with the reproachful blasphemy defied, beaten with stones down from the battlement, that he was forced to withdraw aside, and bat his servant Talus to invent which way he enter might, without endangerment. Soonce his page drew to the castle gate, and with his iron flail at it let fly, that all the warders it did saw amate. The witch-air-wild spake so reproachfully, and made them stoop, that look had erst so high. Yet still he beat, and bounced upon the door, and thundered strokes thereon so hideously, that all the peace he shakered from the floor, and fillered all the house with fear and great uproar. With noise whereof the lady forth appeared upon the castle wall, and when she saw the dangerous state in which she stood, she feared the sad effect of her near overthrow, and began entreat that iron man below, to cease his outrage, and him fair besought, sith neither force of stones which they did throw, nor power of charms which she against him wrought, might otherwise prevail, or make him cease for aught. But when as yet she saw him to proceed, unmoved with prayers, or with piteous thought, she meant him to corrupt, with goodly mead, and caused great sacks with endless riches fraught unto the battlement to be upbrought, and poured forth over the castle wall that she might win some time, though dearly bought, whilst he to gathering of the gold did fall. But he was nothing moved, nor tempted wherewithal. But still continued his assault the more, and laid on load with his huge iron flail, that at the length he has erent the door, and made way for his master to assail, who being entered, nought did then avail, for white against his power themselves to rear. Each one did fly, their hearts began to fail, and hid themselves in corners here and there, and eek their dame, half dead, did hide herself for fear. Long they her sought, yet nowhere could they find her, that sure they weaned she was escaped away. But talus, that could like a lime-hound wind her, and all things secret wisely could beret, at length found out, whereas she hidden lay under an heap of gold. Thence he her drew by the fair locks, and foully did array, without an pity of her goodly hue, that Artigol himself, her seamless plight, did rue. Yet for no pity would he change the course of justice, which in talus hand did lie, who rudely hailed her forth without remorse, still holding up her suppliant hands on high, and kneeling at his feet submissively. But he, her suppliant hands, those hands of gold, and eek her feet, those feet of silver tri, which sought unrighteousness and justice sold, chopped off, and nailed on high, that all might them behold. Herself then took he by the slender waist, in vain loud crying, and into the flood over the castle wall adown her cast, and there her drowned in the dirty mud. But the stream washed away her guilty blood. Thereafter, all that mucky pelf he took, the spoil of people's evil-gotten good, the which her sire had scraped by hook and crook, and burning all to ashes, poured it down the brook. And lastly, all that castle quite he raced, even from the soul of his foundation, and all the human stones thereof defaced, that there might be no hope of reparation, nor memory thereof to any nation. All which, when Talas thoroughly had performed, Sir Artigal undid the evil fashion and wicked customs of that bridge reformed, which done, unto his former journey, he returned. In which they measured Mikkel weary way, till that at length, nigh to the sea they drew, by which as they did travel on a day, they saw before them, far as they could view, full many people gathered in a crew, whose great assembly they did much admire, for never there the like resort they knew. So towards them they coasted, to inquire what things so many nations met, did their desire. There they beheld a mighty giant stand upon a rock, and holding forth on high, an huge great pair of balance in his hand, with which he boasted in his circuitry, that all the world he would weigh equally, if ought he had the same to counter poise. For want whereof, he wailed vanity, and filled his balance full of idle toys, yet was admired much of fools, women, and boys. He said, that he would all the earth uptake, and all the sea divided each from either. So would he of the fire one balance make, and one of the air, without or wind or weather, then would he balance heaven and hell together, and all that did within them all contain. Of all whose weight he would not miss a feather. And look what surplus did of each remain, he would to his own part restore the same again. For why, he said, they all unequal were, and had encroached upon others' share, like as the sea, which plain he showered there had worn the earth, so did the fire, the air, so all the rest did others' parts impair. And so were realms and nations run awry, all which he undertook for to repair in sort as they were formered anciently, and all things would reduce unto equality. Therefore the vulgar did about him flock, and cluster thick unto his leasing's vein, like foolish flies about an honey-crock, in hope by him great benefit to gain, and uncontrollered freedom to obtain. All which, when article did see and hear, how he misled the simple people's strain, instainful wise he drew unto him near, and thus unto him spake, without regard or fear. Thou that presume us to weigh the world anew, and all things to an equal to restore, instead of right, me seems great wrong does show, and far above thy forces pitch to soar. For ere thou limit what is less or more in everything, thou oughtest first to know what was the poise of every part of yore, and look, then, how much it doth overflow or fail thereof, so much is more than just to trow. For at the first they all created were, in goodly measure, by their maker's might, and weighed out in balances so near, that not a drum was missing of their right. The earth was in the middle centre, a pite, in which it doth immovable abide, hemmed in with waters like a wall in sight, and they with air, that not a drop can slide, all which the heavens contain, and in their courses guide. Such heavenly justice doth among them reign, that every one do know their certain bound, in which they do these many years remain, and amongst them all no change hath yet been found. But if thou now shouldst weigh them new in pound, we are not sure they would so long remain. All change is perilous, and all chance unsound. Therefore, leave off to weigh them all again, till we may be assured they shall their course retain. Thou foolish elf, said then the giant wroth, seeest not how badly all things present be, and each estate quite out of order goeth? The sea itself dost thou not plainly see encroach upon the land there under thee, and the earth itself how daily it's increased by all that dying too it turn'd be. Were it not good that wrong were then soceased, and from the most, that some were given to the least? Therefore I will throw down these mountains high, and make them level with the lowly plain. These towering rocks which reach unto the sky, I will thrust down into the deepest main, and as they were, them equalize again. Tyrants that make men subject to their law, I will suppress, that they no more may reign, and lordings curb that commons over all, and all the wealth of rich men to the poor will draw. Of things unseen, how canst thou deem a right, then answered the righteous article? Sit thou mis deem so much of things in sight. What though the earth with waves continual do eat the earth, it is no more at all. Nay, as the earth the less, or looseth ought, for whatsoever from one place doth fall is with the tide unto another brought, for there is nothing lost that may be found if sought. Likewise the earth is not augmented more by all that dying into it do fade, for of the earth they formid were of yore. However gay their blossom or their blade do flourish now, they into dust shall vade. What rogne then is it if that when they die they turn to that whereof they first were made? All in the power of their great maker lie, all creatures must obey the voice of the most high. They live, they die, like as he doth ordain. Nay, ever are any asketh reason why? The hills do not the lowly dales disdain, the dales do not the lofty hills envy, he maketh kings to sit in sovereignty, he maketh subjects to their power obey, he pulleth down, he seteth up on high, he gives to this, from that he takes away, for all we have is his, what he list do he may. Whatever thing is done by him is done. Nay, any may his mighty will withstand, Nay, any may his sovereign power shun, Nay, loose that he hath bound with steadfast band. In vain, therefore, dost thou now take in hand to call to count, or weigh his works anew, whose counsels depth thou canst not understand, sith of things subject to thy daily view, thou dost not know the cause, nor their courses due. For take thy balance, if thou be so wise, and weigh the wind, that under heaven doth blow, or weigh the light that in the east doth rise, or weigh the thought that from man's mind doth flow. But if the weight of these thou canst not show, weigh but one word which from thy lips doth fall. For how canst thou those greater secrets know, that dost not know the least thing of them all? Ill can he rule the great, that cannot reach the small. They're with the giant, much Abashad said, that he of little things made reckoning light. Yet the least word that ever could be laid within his balance, he could weigh a right, which is, said he, more heavy than in weight, the right or wrong, the false or else the true. He answered that he would try it straight, so he the words into his balance through, but straight the winged words out of his balance flew. Roth wext he then, and said that words were light, nay would within his balance well abide. But he could justly weigh the wrong or right. Well then, said Artigal, let it be tried. First in one balance set the true aside. He did so first, and then the false he laid in the other scale. But still it down did slide, and by no mean could in the weight be stayed. For by no means the false will with the truth be weighed. Now take the right likewise, said Artigal, and counterpise the same with so much wrong. So first the right he put into one scale, and then the giant strove with puisson strong to fill the other scale with so much wrong. But all the wrongs that he therein could lay, might not it pise. Yet did he lay belong, and swat, and choffed, and proved every way. Yet all the wrongs could not a little right down lay. Which when he saw he greatly grew in rage, and almost would his balances have broken. But Artigal him fairly ganous wage, and said, Be not upon thy balance roken, for they do not but right or wrong betoken. But in the mind the doom of right must be. And so likewise of words the which bespoken, the ear must be the balance, to decree and judge whether with truth or falsehood they agree. But set the truth, and set the right aside, for they with wrong or falsehood will not fair. And put two wrongs together to be tried, or else two falses of each equal share, and then together do them both compare. For truth is one, and right is ever one. So did he, and then plain it did appear whether of them the greater were atone. But right sat in the middest of the beam alone. But he the right from thence did thrust away. For it was not the right which he did seek, but rather strove extremities to weigh, the one to diminish, the other for to eek, for of the mean he greatly did misleak. Whom when so ludely minded, Talus found, approaching nigh unto him, cheek by cheek, he shouldered him from off the higher ground, and down the rock him throwing, in the sea him drowned. Like as a ship, whom cruel tempest drives upon a rock with horrible dismay, her shattered ribs in thousand pieces rives, and spoiling all her gears and goodly ray, does make herself misfortune's piteous prey. So down the cliff the wretched giant tumbled, his battered balances in pieces lay, his timbered bones all broken rudely rumbled. So was the high aspiring, with huge ruin humbled. That when the people which had their about long waited, saw his sudden desolation, they began to gather into multuous rout, and mutining to stir up civil faction, for certain loss of so great expectation. For well they hoped, to have got great good, and wondrous riches by his innovation. Therefore, resolving to revenge his blood, they rose in arms, and all in battle order stood. Which lawless multitude him coming to in warlike wise, when article did view, he much was troubled, nay wist what to do. For loathe he was his noble hands, temprew, in the base blood of such a rascal crew. And otherwise, if that he should retire, he feared lest they with shame would him pursue. Therefore he tallest to them sent, to inquire the cause of their array, and truth, for to desire. But soon as they him nigh approaching spied, they gunned with all their weapons, him assay, and rudely struck at him on every side. Yet nought they could him hurt, nay ought dismay. But when at them he with his flail gunlay, he like a swarm of flies them over through, nay any of them dust come in his way, but here and there before his presence flew, and hid themselves in holes and bushes from his view. As when a falcon, hath with nimble flight, flown at a flush of ducks, for by the brook, the trembling fal, dismayed with dreadful sight of death, the which them almost overtook, do hide themselves from her astoning look, amongst the flags and covert round about. When tallest saw they all the field for sook, and none appeared of all that rascal rout, to artigal he turned, and went with him throughout. Book 5 The Legend of Artigal, Canto III The Spousals of Fair Florimel, where tourney many nights, their braggadocio is uncased in all the ladies' sights. After long storms and tempests overblown, the sun at length his joyous face does clear, so when as fortune all her spite hath shown some blissful hours at last must needs appear. Else should afflicted whites oft times despair. So comes it now to Florimel by turn, after long sorrows suffered while here, in which captive she minimals did mourn, to taste of joy, and to want pleasures to return. Who being freed from Proteus' cruel band by Maranel was unto him afide, and by him brought again to fairy land, where he herspoused, and made his joyous bride. The time and place was blazed far and wide, and solemn feasts and juists ordained therefore, to which there did resort from every side of lords and ladies infinite great store. Nay, any night was absent that brave courage bore. To tell the glory of the feast that day, the goodly service, the divisful sights, the bridegroom's state, the bride's most rich array, the pride of ladies, and the worth of knights. The royal banquets and the rare delights were work fit for an herald, not for me. But for so much as to my lot, here lights, that with this present treatise doth agree, true virtue to advance, shall here recount it be. When all men had with full satiety of meats and drinks their appetites sufficed, to deeds of arms and proof of chivalry, they gained themselves a dress, full rich agguised, as each one had his furnitures devised. And first of all issued Sir Maranel, and with him six nights more, which interpised to challenge all in right of Florinel, and to maintain that she all others did excel. The first of them was Hyde, Sir Oremont, a noble knight and tried in hard assays. The second had to name Sir Belissant, but second unto none in prowess praise. The third was Brunel, famous in his days, the fourth a castor of exceeding might. The fifth, Armeddon, skilled in lovely lays. The sixth was Lansec, a redoubted knight, all six well seen in arms, and proved in many a fight. And them against came all that list to juist, from every coast and country under sun. None was debarred, but all had leave that lust. The trumpet sound, then altogether run. Full many deeds of arms that day were done, and many knights unhorsed, and many wounded, as fortune fell, yet little lost are won. For all that day the greatest praise redounded, to Merinel, whose name the heralds loud, resounded. The second day, so soon as morrow light appeared in heaven, into the field they came, and there all day continued cruel fight, with diverse fortune fit for such a game, in which all strove with peril to win fame. Yet weather side was Victor, note be guessed. But at the last the trumpets did proclaim that Merinel that day deserved it best, so they departed were, and all men went to rest. The third day came that should you trial lend of all the rest, and then this warlike crew together met, of all to make an end. There Merinel, great deeds of arms, did chew, and through the thickest, like a lion flew, rashing off helms and riving plates asunder, that every one his donger did as chew. So terribly his dreadful strokes did thunder, that all men stood amazed, and at his might did wonder. But what on earth can always happy stand? The greater prowess greater perils find, so far he passed amongst his enemies band, that they have him enclosed so behind, as by no means he can himself outwind. And now, perforce, they have him prisoner taken, and now they do with captive bands him bind, and now they lead him thence of all forsaken, unless some sucker had in time him overtaken. It fortune'd whilst they were thus ill beset, Sir Artigal, into the tiltyard came, with braggadocio, whom he lately met upon the way, with that his snowy day. Where when he understood by common fame what evil happened to Merinel betid, he much was moved at so unworthy shame, and straight that boaster prayed, with whom he rid, to change his shield with him, to be the better hid. So forth he went, and soon them overhand, where they were leading Merinel away, whom he assailed with dreadless hardiment, and forced the burden of their prize to stay. They were a hundred nights of that array, of which the one half upon himself did set, the other stayed behind, to guard the prey. But he ere long'd the form of fifty bet, and from the other fifty soon the prisoner fed. So back he brought Sir Merinel again, whom, having quickly armed again anew, they both together joined it, might, and main, to set afresh on all the other crew, whom with sore havoc soon they overthrew, and chase it quite out of the field that none against them durst his head to peril's shoe. So were they left lords of the field alone, so Merinel by him was rescued from his foam. Which when he had performed, then back again to Bregadocio, did his shield restore, who all this wild behind him did remain, keeping there close with him in precious store, that his false lady, as ye heard afore. Then did the trumpet sound, and the judges rose, and all these nights, which that day armor bore, came to the open hall to listen, whose the honor of the prize should be adjudged by those. And thither also came in open sight, fair Floramel, into the common hall, to greet his gerdon unto ever in night, and best to him to whom the best should fall. Then for that stranger night they loud did call, to whom that day they should the girlund yield. Who came not forth? But for Sir Artigal came Bregadocio, and did shoe his shield, which bore the sun, brood, blazed, in a golden field. The sight whereof did all with gladness fill. So unto him did they adeem the prize of all that triumph. Then the trumpet's shrill, Don Bregadocio's name, resounded thrice, so courage lent a cloak to cowardice, and then to him came fairest Floramel, and goodly again to greet his brave imprise, and thousand thanks him yield, that had so well approved that day that she all others did excel. To whom the boaster, that all nights did blot, with proud disdain, did scornful answer make, that what he did that day he did it not for her, but for his own dear lady's sake, whom on his peril he did undertake, both her and each all others, to excel. And further did uncomely speeches creak, much did his words the gentle lady quell, and turned aside for shame to hear what he did tell. Then forth he brought his snowy Floramel, whom trumpet had in keeping there beside, covered it from people's gazement with a veil, whom when discovered they had thoroughly eyed, with great amazement they were stupefied, and said, that surely Floramel it was, for if it were not Floramel so tried, that Floramel herself she then did pass, so feeble skill of perfect things the vulgar has. Which when, as Maranel beheld likewise, he was therewith exceedingly dismayed, nay wished he what to think, or to devise, but like as one who fiends had made afraid, he long astonished stood, nay ought he said, nay ought he did, but with fast-fixit eyes he gazed still upon that snowy maid, whom ever as he did the more of eyes, the more to be true Floramel he did surmise. As when two suns appear in the azure sky, mounted in Phoebus' chariot, fiery bright, both darting forth fair beams to each man's eye, and both adorned with lamps of flaming light, all that behold so strange prodigious sight, not knowing nature's work, nor what to wean, are wrapped with wonder, and with rare a fright, so stood, Sir Maranel, when he had seen the semblant of this false, by his fair beauty's queens. All which, when Artigo, who all this while, stood in the priest's close coveret, well advew it, and saw that boaster's pride and graceless guile, he could no longer bear but forth his shewed, and unto all himself their open shewed, and to the boaster said, Thou locil base, that hast with borrowing plumes thy self-induit, and others' worth with leasing's dost deface, when they are all restored, thou shalt rest in disgrace. That shield, which thou dost bear, was it indeed, which this day's honor saved to Maranel, but not that arm, nor thou the man I read, which didst that service unto Florimel. For proof shew forth thy sword, and let it tell, what strokes, what dreadful store it stirred this day, or shew the wounds, which unto thee befell, or shew the sweat, with which thou didst sway, so sharp a battle, that so many did dismay. But this the sword, which brought those cruel stones, and this the arm, that which that shield did bear, and these the signs, so shewed forth his wounds, by which that glory-gotten doth appear, as for this lady, which he sheweth here, is not, I wager, Florimel at all, but some fair Franion fit for such a fear, and by misfortune in his hand did fall, for proof whereof he bade them Florimel forth call. So forth the noble lady was Ibrot, adorned with honor and all comely grace, where to her bashful shame-facedness Ibrot a great increase in her fair-blushing face, as roses did with lilies interlace. For of those words, the which that boaster threw, she inly yet conceiveth great disgrace, whom when, as all the people such did view, they shouted loud, and signs of gladness all did shew. Then did he set her by that snowy one, like the true saint beside the image set, of both their beauties to make paragon and trial, where there should the honor get, straightway so soon as both together met, the enchanted damsel vanished into nought. Her snowy substance melted as with heat, nay, of that goodly hue, remain it odd, but the empty girdle which about her waist was wrought. As when the daughter of Thaumonte's fair hath in a watery cloud displayed wide, her goodly bow, which paints the liquid air, that all men wonder at her color's pride. All suddenly, ere one can look aside, the glorious picture vanisheth away, nay, any token doth thereof abide. So did this lady's goodly form decay, and into nothing go ere one could it beray. Which, when, as all that present were beheld, they stricken were with great astonishment, and their faint hearts with senseless horror quelled, to see the thing that seemed so excellent, so stolen from their fancy's wonderment, that what of it became none understood. And Braggadocio's self, with dreariment so daunted, was in his despairing mood, that like a lifeless course immovable he stood. But Artigo, that golden belt uptook, the which of all her spoil was only left, which was not hers as many it mistook, but Floramel's own girdle, from her reft, while she was flying, like a weary weft, from that foul monster, which did her compel to peril's great, which he unbuckling eft presented to the fairest Floramel, who round about her tender waist it fitted well. Full many ladies often had assayed about their middles that fair belt to knit, and many a one supposed to be a maid, yet it to none of their loins would fit, till Floramel about her fastened it. Such power it had that to no woman's waist, by any skill or labour it would fit, unless that she were continent and chaste, but it would loose or break, that many had disgraced. Whilst thus they busy it were, bout Floramel, and boastful Braggadocio to defame, Sir Gion, as by fortune then befell, forth from the thickest press of people came, his own good steed, which he had stoned, to claim, and the one hand seizing on his golden bit, with the other drew his sword, for with the same he meant the thief there deadly to have smit, and had he not been held, he not had failed of it. Thereof great hurly-burly move it was, throughout the hall, for that same warlike horse, for Braggadocio would not let him pass, and Gion would him all gates have perforce, or it approve upon his carrion course, which troublous stir when Artigal perceived it, he nigh them drew, to stay the avengers' force, and again inquire, how was that steed bereaved, whether by might extort, or else by slight deceiving? Who all that piteous story which befell about that woeful couple, which were slain into their young bloody babe, to him Gantel, with whom wiles he did in the wood remain? His horse, perloin it was by subtle train, for which he challenged the thief to fight, but he for not could him there to constrain, for as the death he hated such despite, and rather had to lose, than try and arms his right. Which Artigal, well hearing, though no more by law of arms there need one's right to try, as was the warlike knight's of yore, then that his foe should him the field deny, yet further right by tokens to describe, he asked, what privy tokens he did bear? If that, said Gion, may you satisfy, within his mouth a black spot doth appear, shaped like a horse's shoe, who lest to seek it there? Whereof to make due trial one did take the horse in hand, within his mouth to look, but with his heels so sorely he himstrake, but all his ribs he quite in pieces broke, that never word from that day forth he spoke, another that would seem to have more with, him by the bright embroidered headstall took, but by the shoulder him so sore he bit, that he him may midquite, and all his shoulder split. Nay, he his mouth would open unto white, until that guy and self, unto him spake, and called Brigador, so was he height, whose voice so soon as he did undertake, after soon he stood his still as in his stake, and suffered all his secret mark to see, and when, as he him named, for joy he break his bands, and followed him with gladful glee, and frisked, and flung aloft, and looted low on knee. Thereby, Sir Artigal did plain a reed, that unto him the horse belonged, and said, Lo there, Sir Guion, take to you the steed, as he with golden saddle is arrayed, and let that locil, plainly now displayed, hence fair on foot, till he and horse have gained it. But the proud boaster, again his doom upbraid, let him reviled, and rated, and disdain it, that a judgment so unjust against him had ordained it. Much was the knight incensed with his lewd word, to have revenged that his villainy, and thrice did lay his hand upon his sword, to have him slain, or dearly done abye. But Guion did his collar pacify, saying, Sir Knight, it would dishonor be, to you, that our judge of equity, to wreak your wrath on such a car, as he, its punishment enough, that all his shame do see. So did he mitigate Sir Artigal, but talus, by the back the boaster hint, and drawing him out of the open hall upon him did inflict this punishment. First he, his beard, did shave, and foully shent, then from him ref'd his shield, and it renvers'd, and blotted out his arms, with falsehood blint, and himself baffled, and his arms unhurst, and broke his sword in twain, and all his armours burst. The wiles his guileful droon was fled away, but vain it was to think from him to fly, who overtaking him did disarray, and all his face deformed with infamy, and out of court him scourged openly. So ought all fatours that true knighthood shame, and arms dishonor with base villainy, from all brave knights be banished with defame, for oft their ludeness blotted good deserts with blame. Now when these counterfeits with us uncased, out of the foresight of their forgery, and in the sight of all men clean, disgraced, all again to jest and to jibe, full merrily, at the remembrance of their navery, ladies can laugh at ladies, knights at knights, to think with how great vaunt of bravery he them abused through his subtle slights, and what a glorious shoe he made in all their sights. There leave we them in pleasure and repast, spending their joyous days and gladful nights, and taking usury of time for past, with all dear delicacies and rare delights, fit for such ladies and such lovely knights, and turn we here to this fair furrow's end, our weary yolks to gather fresher sprites, that when his time to Artigal shall tinned, we on his first adventure may him forward send. End of Canto 3, Book 5, The Legend of Artigal Artigal dealeth right betwixt to brethren that do strive, saves terpine from the gallow tree, and doth from death reprive. Whoso upon himself will take the skill, true justice unto people to divide, had need have mighty hands, but to fulfil that which he doth with wightest doom decide, and fought a maester wrong and precent pride, for vain it is to deem of things a right, and makes wrongdoers justice to divide, unless it be performed with dreadless might, for power is the right hand of justice truly height. Therefore, while on tonights of great empress the charge of justice given was in trust, that they might execute her judgments wise, and with their might beat down licentious lust, which proudly did impugn her sentence just, whereof no braver president this day remains on earth. Preserved from iron rust of rude oblivion, and long times decay, then this of Artigal, which here we have to say. Who having lately left that lovely pair, and linkered fast in wedlock's loyal bond, bold marinal with Florimal the Fair, with whom great feast and goodly glee he fond, departed from the castle of the Strand, to follow his adventure's first intent, which long ago he taken had in mind, nor white with him for his assistance went, but that great iron groom, his guard and government. With whom as he did pass by the sea shore, he chanced to come, where as two comely squires, both brethren, whom one wound together bore, but stirred up with different desires together strove, and kindled wrathful fires, and then beside two seemingly damsel's stood, by all means seeking to assuage their eyes. Now with fair words, but words did little good. Now with sharp threats, but threats the more increased their mood. And there before them stood a coffer strong, fast bound on every side with iron bands, but seeming to have suffered nickel-rung, either by being wrecked upon the sands, or being carried far from foreign lands. Seemed that for it these squires at Odds did fall, and bent against the sands, but the sands at Odds did fall, and bent against themselves their cruel hands. But evermore those damsels did forstall their furious encounter, and their fierceness pawl. But firmly fixed they were, with dint of sword, and Batale's doubtful proof their rights to try, nor other end their fury would afford, but what to them fortune would justify. So stood they both in readiness thereby to join the combat with cruel intent, when Artigal, arriving happily, did stay a while their gregly bickermint, till he had questionnored the cause of their dissent. To whom the elder did this answer frame, then we ye sir that we too brethren be, to whom Arsire, Malaysia by name, did equally bequeath his lands in fee. Two lands which ye there before you see, not far in sea, of which the one appears, but like a little mount of small degree, yet was as great and wide ere many years as some other isle that greater breads now bears. But tract of time that all things doth decay, and this devouring sea that not doth spare, the most part of my land hath washed away, and thrown it up unto my brother's share. So his increased, but mine did impair, before which time I loved, as was my lot, that further made, I'd filterer the fare, with whom a goodly-dar I should have got, and should have joined it been to her in wedlock's knot. Then did my younger brother Amida's, love that same other damsel, Lucy Bright, to whom but little dar a lot it was, her virtue was the dar, that did delight, what better dar can to a dain be height? But now, when filterer saw my land's decay, and former life had fail, she left me quite, and to my brother did a lope straight way, who taking her from me, his own love left astray. She seeing then herself forsaken soul, through dolorous despair which she conceived, into the sea herself did headlong throw, thinking to have her grief by death bereaved, but see how much her purpose was deceived, whilst thus amidst the billows beating of her, trick's life and death, long to and fro she weaved, she chanced unwares to light upon this coffer, which to her in that danger hope of life did offer. The wretched maid that erst desired to die, when as the pain of death she tasted had, and but half seen his ugly visonomy, gone to repent that she had been so mad, for any death to change life, though most bad, and catching hold of this sea-beaten chest, the lucky pilot of her passage sad, after long tossing in the sea's distress, her weary bark at last upon mine-isle did rest. Where I by chance then wandering on the shore did her a spy, and through my good endeavour, from dreadful mouth of death, which threatened saw her to have swallowed up, did help to save her, she then in recompense of that great favour, which I on her bestowed, bestowed on me, the portion of that good which fortune gave her, together with herself in dowry free, both goodly portions, but of both the better she. Yet in this coffer, which she with her brought, great treasurestessence we did find contained, which as our own we took, and so it's thought, but this same other damsel since hath pained, that to herself that treasure appertained, and that she did transport the same by sea, to bring it to her husband, new ordained, but suffered cruel ship-rack by the way, but whether it be so or no, I cannot say. But whether it indeed be so or no, this do I say, that what so good or ill, or God of fortune, unto me did throw, not wronging any other by my will, I hold mine own, and so will hold it still. And though my land he first did win away, and then my love, though now it little skill, yet my good luck he shall not likewise pray, but I will it defend, whilst ever that I may. So having said, the younger did ensue, full true it is, what so about our land my brother here declared hath to you, but not for it this odd-strix'd astuth stand, but for this treasure thrown upon his strand, which well I prove, as shall appear by trial, to be this maids, with whom I fastened hand, known by good marks and perfect good a-spile, therefore it ought be rendered her without denial. When they thus ended had, the night began, surters your strife were easy to accord, would ye remit it to some writer's man? Unto yourself, said they, we give our word, to bide-watch judgment ye shall us afford, then for assurance to my doom to stand, under my foot let each lay down his sword, and then ye shall my sentence understand, so each of them lay down his sword out of hand. Then Artigal, thus to the younger, said, Now tell me, Amidus, if that ye may, your brother's land the which the sea hath laid unto your part, and plucked from his away, by what good right do ye withhold this day? What other right, quoth he, should ye esteem, but that they see it to my shared inlay? Your right is good, said he, and so I deem, that what the sea unto you sent, your own should seem. Then turning to the elder, thus he said, Now brassidus, let this likewise be shown, your brother's treasure, which from him is strayed, being the dowry of his wife well known, by what right do you claim to be your own? What other right, quoth he, should ye esteem, but that the sea hath it unto me thrown? Your right is good, said he, and so I deem, that what the sea unto you sent, your own should seem. For equal right in equal things doth stand, for what the mighty sea hath once possessed, and plucked quite from all possessors hand, whether by rage of waves that never rest or else by rack, that wretches hath distressed, he may dispose by his imperial might, as thing at land and left, to whom he list. So Amidus, the land was yours first height, and so the treasure yours is brassidus by right. When he his sentence thus pronounced had, both Amidus and Filtre were displeased, but brassidus and Lucy were right glad, and on the treasure by that judgment seized, so was their discord by this doom appeased, and each one had his right. Then Artigal, when as their sharp contention he had seized, departed on his way, as did Befol to follow his old quest, the which him forth did call. So as he travelled upon the way, he chanced to come where happily he spied, a route of many people far away, to whom his course he hastily applied, to meet the cause of their assemblance wide. To whom, when he approached near in sight, an uncouth sight, he plainly then described to be a troop of women warlike dite, with weapons in their hands, as ready for to fight. And in the midst of them he saw a knight, with both his hands behind him pinnowed hard, and round about his neck and halter tight, as ready for the gallow-tree prepared. His face was covered, and his head was burred. That who he was, uneaseless to describe, and with full heavy heart with them he fared, grieved to the soul, and groaning inwardly, that he a woman's hand so base a death should die. But they, like tyrants, merciless the more, rejoiced at his miserable case, and him reviled and reproached saw, with bitter taunts and terms of wildest grace. Now, when as article arrived in place did ask, what cause brought that man to decay, they round him gone to swarm apace, meaning on him their cruel hands to lay, and to have wrought unwares some villainous assay. But he was soon aware of their ill-mind, and drawing back deceived their intent. Yet though himself did shame on woman-kind his mighty hand to shend, he talus sent to reckon them their folly's hardiment, who with few sources of his iron flail dispersed all their troops incontinent, and sent them home to tell a pitious tale of their vain prowess turned it to their proper bale. But that same wretched man, ordained to die, they left behind him, glad to be so quit. Him talus took out of perplexity and horror of foul death for night unfit, whom all then loss of life adreded it, and him restoring unto living light subwort unto his lord, where he did sit, beholding all that womanish weak fight, whom soon as he beheld he knew, and thus behight. Sir Turpine, hapless man, what make you here, or have you lost yourself and your discretion, that ever in this wretched case you were? Or have you yielded you to proud oppression of women's power, that boast of men's subjection? Or else what other deadly dismal day it's fallen on you, by heaven's hard direction, that ye will run so fondly far astray, as for to lead yourself unto your own decay? Much was the man confounded in his mind, partly with shame and partly with dismay, that all astonished he himself did find, and little had for his excuse to say, but only thus. Most hapless well ye may me justly term, that to this shame am wrought, and made the scorn of knighthood this same day. But who can escape what his own fate hath wrought, the work of heaven's will surpasseth human thought? Right true, but faulty men use often times to attribute their folly unto fate, and lay on heaven the guilt of their own crimes. But tell, Sir Turpin, now let you amate your misery, how fell ye in this state? Then Scythie needs, quote he, will know my shame, and all the ill which chance to me of late, I shortly will to you rehearse the same, in hope you will not turn misfortune to my blame. Being desirous, as all knights are wound, through hard adventures deeds of arms to try. And after fame and honour fought a hunt, I heard report that far abroad did fly, and found Amazon did late defy all the brave knights, that hold of maiden-head, and unto them wrought all the villainy that she could forge in her malicious head, which some hath put to shame, and many down be dead. The cause, they say, of this her cruel hate, is for the sake of bellow down to the bold, to whom she bore most fervent love of late, and wooed him by all the ways she could. But when she saw at last that he know would for ought or not be won unto her will, she turned her love to hatred manifold, and for his sake vowed to do all the ill which she could do to knights, which now she doth fulfil. For all those knights, the witch by force or girl she doth subdue, she foully doth entreat. First she doth them of warlike arms to spoil, and cloth in women's weeds, and then with threat doth them compel to work, to earn their meat, to spin, to card, to sew, to wash, to ring, she give them other thing to eat, but bread and water, or like feeble thing, them to disable from revenge adventuring. But if through stout disdain of manly mind any her proud observance will withstand upon that gibbet, which is there behind, she causeth them to be hanged up out of hand, in which condition I right now did stand, for being overcome by her in fight and put to that base service of her band, I rather chose to die in lives despite, to lead that shameful life unworthy of a night. How hide that Amazon, said Artigal, and where and how far hence doth she abide? Her name, quoth he, they radigund doth call, a princess of great power and greater pride, and queen of Amazons in arms well tried, and sundry battles which she hath achieved with great success, that her hath glorified, and made her famous, more than is believed, but weaned had I not late it proved. Now sure, said he, and by the faith that I, to Maidenhead and noble knighthood owe, I will not rest till I her might do try, and range the shame that she to night doth show. Therefore, Sir Turpins, from you lightly throw this squalid weed, the pattern of despair, and when with me, that ye may see and know, how fortune will your ruined name repair, and knights of Maidenhead, whose praise she would impair. And that, like one that hopeless was repried from death's door, at which he lately lay, those iron fetters, wherewith he was guide, the badges of reproach he threw away, and nimbly did him died to guide the way into the dwelling of that Amazon, which was from thence not past a mile or tway, a goodly city, and a mighty one, the witch of her own name she called radigund. Where they arriving by the watchmen were the knight who all the city warned, how that three warlike persons did appear, of which the one him seemed a knight all armed, and the other two well likely to have harmed. After soonce the people all to harness ran, and like a sort of bees in clusters swarmed, ere long their queen herself, half like a man, came forth into the rout, and them to array began. And now the knights being arrived near, did beat upon the gates to enter in, and at the porter, scorning them so few, through many threats, if they the town did win, to tear his flesh in pieces for his sin, which when as radigund there coming hurried, his heart for rage did grate, and teeth did grin, she bade that straight the gates should be unbarred, and to them way to make, with weapons well prepared. Soon as the gates were open to them set, they pressed forward, entrance to have made, and in the middle way they were in met, with a sharp shower of arrows which them stayed, and better bad advice ere they assayed, unknowing power of bold woman's pride, then all that rout upon them rudely laid, and heap had stroked so fast on every side, and arrows hailed so thick that they could not abide. But radigund herself, when she aspired Sir Turpin from her direful doom acquit, so cruel doll amongst her maids divide, that shame they did on him commit, all suddenly inflamed with furious fit, like a fell lioness at him she flew, and on his headpiece him so fiercely smit, that to the ground him quite she overthrew, dismayed so with the stroke that he no colours knew. Soon as she saw him on the ground to grovel, she likely to him leapt, and in his neck her proud foot setting, at his head did level, weaning at once her wrath on him to reek, and his contempt that did her judgment break. As when a bear hath seized her cruel claws upon the carcass of some beast too weak, proudly stands over, and a wild earth pours to hear the piteous beast pleading her plaintive cause. Whom when as article in that distress by chance beheld, he left the bloody slaughter in which he swam, and ran to his redress, there her assailing fiercely fresh, he wrought her such an huge stroke that it of sense distraught her, and had she not it warded warily, it had deprived her mother of a daughter. Nonetheless, for all the power she did apply, it made her stagger off, and stare with ghastly eye, like to an eagle in his kingly pride soaring through his wide empire of the air, to weather his broad sails by chance hath spied a gauze-hawk which hath seized for her share upon some fowl that should her feast prepare, with dreadful force he flies at her belive, that with his source which none endure and dare, her from the quarry he away doth drive, and from her gripping pounce the greedy prey doth drive. But soon as she her sense recovered had, she fiercely towards him herself gandite, through vengeful wrath and stainful pride half mad, for never had she suffered such despite. But ere she could join hand with him to fight, her warlike maids about her flock so fast, that they disparted them, morgue of their might, and with their troops did far as undercast, but amongst the rest the fight did until evening last. And every while that mighty iron man with his strange weapon never once in war them sorely vexed, and coursed, and overran, and broke their bows, and did their shooting maw, that none of all the many once did dow him to assault, nor once approach him nigh, but like a sort of sheep dispersed far for dread of their devouring enemy, through all the fields and valleys did before him fly. But when as day's fair shiny beam eclouded with fearful shadows of deformed night, warned man and beast in quiet rest reshrouded, bold radigund with sound of trump on height, caused all her people to surcease from fight, and gathering them unto her city's gate made them all enter in before her sight, and all the wounded and the weakened state to be conveyed in ere she would once retreat. When thus the field was voided all the way, and all things quieted, the elfin night weary of toil and travel of that day caused his pavilion to be richly pite before the city gate in open sight, where he himself did rest in safety, together with Sir Turpins all that night, but Talus used in times of jeopardy to keep a nightly watch for fear of treachery. But radigund, full of heart-noring grief for the rebuke which she sustained that day, could take no rest nor would receive relief, but tossed in her troublous mind what way she might revenge that blot which on her lay. There she resolved herself in single fight to try her fortune and his force a say, rather than see her people spoiled quite, as she had seen that day a disaventurous sight. She called forth to her a trusty maid whom she thought fittest for that business. Her name was Claren, and thus to her said, Go damsel quickly, do thy self-address to do the message which I shall express, go thou unto that stranger fairy-night where yesterday drove us to such distress. Tell that to-morrow I with him will fight and try in equal field, whether hath greater might. But these conditions do to him propound, that if I vanquish him he shall obey my law and ever to my law be bound, and so will I, if me he vanquish may, whatever he shall like to do or say. Go straight, and take with thee to witness it, six of thy fellows of the best array, and bear with you both wine and yonkates fit, and bid him eat, henceforth he oft shall hungry sit. The damsel straight obeyed, and putting all in readiness, forth to the town gate went, where sounding loud a trumpet from the wall, unto those warlike nights she warning sent, then Taylor's both issuing from the tent, unto this wall his way did fearless take, to weeden what that trumpet sounding meant, where that same damsel loudly him bespake, and should that with his lord she would in parlance make. So he them straight conducted to his lord, who as he could them goodly well did greet, till they had told their message word by word, accepting well as he could wheat, them fairly entertained with curtsies meet, and gave them gifts and things of dear delight, so back again they homeward turned their feet. But Artigal himself to rest did dite, that he mode fresher be against the next day's fight.