So forth they rode together all in troupe
To feeke fome place, the which mote yeeld fome ease To these ficke twaine that now began to droupe; And all the way the prince fought to appease The bitter anguish of their sharpe disease By all the courteous meanes he could invent, Somewhile with merry purpose, fit to please, And otherwhile with good encouragement, To make them to endure the pains did them torment. XXXIII.
Mongst which Serena did to him relate
The foule difcourt'fies and unknightly parts, Which Turpine had unto her shewed late Without compaffion of her cruell smarts; Although Blandina did with all her arts Him otherwise perfwade all that she might; Yet he of malice, without her defarts, Not onely her excluded late at night,
But also trayterously did wound her weary knight.
Wherewith the prince fore moved there avoud
That foone as he returned backe againe, He would avenge th'abuses of that proud And shameful knight, of whom she did complaine. This wize did they each other entertaine
To paffe the tedious travell of the
Till towards night they came unto a plaine, By which a little hermitage there lay, Far from all neighbourhood, the which annoy XXXV.
And nigh thereto a little chappel stoode, Which being all with yvy overfpred Deckt all the roofe and fhadowing the roode, Seem'd like a grove faire braunched over hed: Therein the hermite, which his life here led
In ftreight obfervaunce of religious vow,
Was wont his howres and holy things to bed; And therein he likewife was praying now,
Whenas these knights arriv'd, they wift not where nor how.
They stayd not there, but streight way pas: Whom when the hermite present saw in place, From his devotion streight he troubled was; Which breaking off he toward them did pace With stayed steps and grave-befeeming grace: For well it feem'd that whilome he had beene Soome goodly person and of gentle race,
That could his good to all; and well did weene How each to entertaine with curt'fie well befcene: XXXVII.
And foothly it was fayd by common fame,
So long as age enabled him thereto, That he had bene a man of mickle name, Renowmed much in armes and derring doe: But being aged now and weary to
Of warres delight and worlds contentious toyle, The name of knighthood he did difavow,
And hanging up his armes and warlike spoyle, From all this worlds incombrance did himselfe affoyle.
He thence them led into his hermitage,
Letting their steedes to graze upon greene: Small was his house and like a little cage, For his owne turne, yet inly neate and clene, Deckt with greene boughes, and flowers Therein he them full faire did entertaine Not with fuch forged fhowes, as fitter beene For courting fooles, that curtefies would faine, But with entire affection and appearaunce plaine, XXXIX,
Yet was their fare but homely, fuch as hee
Did use his feeble body to sustaine; The which full gladly they did take in glee, Such as it was, ne did of want complaine, But being well fuffiz'd, them refted faine: But faire Serene all night could take no rest, Ne yet that gentle squire, for grievous paine
Of their late woundes, the which the Blatant beast Had given them, whose griefe through fuffraunce fore increast.
So all that night they past in great disease, Till that the morning, bringing early light To guide mens labours, brought them also ease, And fome affwagement of their painefull plight. Then up they rofe, and gan themselves to dight Unto their journey; but that squire and dame So faint and feeble were, that they ne might Endure to travell, nor one foote to frame:
Their hearts were ficke, their fides were fore, their feete were lame.
Therefore the prince, whom great affaires in mynd Would not permit to make there longer stay, Was forced there to leave them both behynd, In that good hermits charge, whom he did pray To tend them well: fo forth he went his way, And with him eke the salvage (that whyleare Seeing his royall usage and array
Was greatly growne in love of that brave pere) Would needes depart, as fhall declared be elsewhere.
The bermite beales both fquire and dame Of their fore maladies: He Turpine doth defeate and shame For his late villanies.
O wound, which warlike hand of enemy Inflicts with dint of fword, fo fore doth light
As doth the poysnous fting, which infamy Infixeth in the name of noble wight:
For by no art nor any leaches might
It ever can recured be againe ;
Ne all the skill, which that immortall spright
Of Podalyrius did in it retaine,
Can remedy fuch hurts; such hurts are hellish paine.
Such were the wounds the which that Blatant beast Made in the bodies of that squire and dame ; And being fuch, were now much more increaft For want of taking heede unto the fame, That now corrupt and cureleffe they became: Howbe that carefull hermite did his best
With many kindes of medicines meete to tame The poyfnous humour, which did most infeft
Their ranckling wounds, and every day them duely dreft:
For he right well in leaches craft was feene;
And through the long experience of his dayes, Which had in many fortunes toffed beene, And past through many perillous afsayes, He knew the diverfe went of mortall wayes,' And in the mindes of men had great infight; Which with fage counfell, when they went aftray,
He could enforme, and them reduce aright;
And all the paffions heale, which wound the weaker spright:
For whylome he had bene a doughty knight, As any one that lived in his daies, And proved oft in many perillous fight; Of which he grace and glory wonne alwaies, And in all battels bore away the baies: But being now attacht with timely age, And weary of this worlds unquiet waies, He tooke himselfe unto this hermitage,
In which he liv'd alone like careleffe bird in cage. V.
One day as he was fearching of their wounds, He found that they had feftred privily; And ranckling inward with unruly stounds, The inner parts now gan to putrify,
That quite they seem'd past helpe of surgery; And rather needed to be difciplinde
With holesome reede of fad fobriety,
To rule the stubborne rage of paffion blinde: Give falves to every fore, but counfell to the minde.
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