GERILEON OF ENGLAND. The second Part Of his most excellent, delectable, moral, and sweet contrived History: continuing his marvelous deeds of Arms, haughty prowess, and honourable love: with sundry other very memorable Adventures.  
Written in French by Estienne de Maisonneufue, Bordelois: and translated into English, by A. M. one of the Messengers of her majesties Chamber. Patere: aut abstine.  
Imprinted at London for Cuthbert Burbie, and are to be sold at the middle Shop in the Poultry. 1592.   

To the right Worshipful, Master Ralphe Martial, of Carleton, in the County of Nottingham, Esquire: & to the virtuous and most affable Gentlewoman, Mistress France's Marshal his wife: A. M. commendeth the kind acceptance of his translated Gerileon.  
IT is not unknown to your Worship, (gentle Master Martial, how since my first entering on this History, to translate it: I have been divers and sundry times countermanded by her majesties appointment, in the place where I serve, to post from place to place on such affairs as were enjoined me, so that not having fully finished one sheet, and the Printer beginning almost so soon as myself; I have been greatly his hindrance, and compelled to catch hold on such little leisures, as in the morning ere I went to horseback, or in the evening coming into mine Inn, I could compass from company. That I fable not herein, you are my witness; in that at your own house I wrote a sheet or two, and elsewhere in your company, as occasion served: and sithence in a long lingering journey, I have knit up the rest, sending leaf by leaf unperused to the Printer, which must needs yield doubt of a perfect Translation. In this hard case, I hope your Worship will the more favour me, being persuaded it should have been better, if more respite had been granted me. Yet this dare I say beside, that except it be a word here and there by me left out, or by the Printer mistaken, I am assured very little lacketh, I am certain not so much as a line of the History: for in very truth, I followed the French (well-near) word for word. But howsoever imperfect or unpollished it be, your kind Acceptation will make it pass for currant: whereof, as I make no doubt, so am I the better encouraged in the success of my fortune. You are a Scholar yourself, and know both how to gratify Scholars labours, as also in affability of spirit to show them good countenance. I am not unmindful of the good Gentlewoman your Wife, and although this work were once elsewhere determined: yet now, both my promise to you and her (at our last being together) is performed: wishing that Gerileon may prove as delightful to you both in the reading, as it hath been painful & laborious to me in the Translating.  Your Worships to use. A. Mundy.  

To his good friend Ma: A. M.  
Absence's, among approved friends dissevers not affect, neither can the change of air change resolved minds. In absence your kindness toward me hath been approved, which I have studied to requite, but can no way equal: nevertheless ability shall not hinder endeavour; but I will do what I may, whereby shall be manifest what I would. But lest I seem to call my credit in question with you by too long circumstance (of which I assure myself you make no doubt) I will leave protestations, & go forward with my purpose. Sir, so it is, that in your late employment about her majesties affairs, having left the Translation of Gerileon unfinished, I chanced to hear of a new part fully ended, by an excellent Scholar (I assure ye) as ever attained to the understanding of As in praesenti. His ripe wit, rare learning, and excellent Science, hath plentifully appeared, in sundry invented books of news; wherein how ever he hath audaciously abused sundry well deserving personages, by attributing to them victories, when they at that time came not near the enemy; yet hath he been liberally rewarded (after six pence a sheet) of the Book-binder his Arch-workmaister. For this sea-swolne Sycophant, can no sooner hear the thunder crack, but he interprete it to be the roaring of Cannons, the confusion of enemies, a conquest to the English. Then over his Can of Canary wine: nay, soft and fair, his labour gets no such allowance; for truly, truly, and in good sooth, ye see this world is hard, & better drink than Barley yields, cannot be spared. Yea, say ye so; well, sith we are all Englishmen, let it be so: and over his Alepot let him ruminate. Now, in such a month at Lisbon, fire consumed so many Hambrough ships of Corn; witnessed by them that in three year b●fore, never left the Realm of England: them a valiant Suffolk Gentleman, (as indeed he is) at such a sight took such a prize; at another, one so rich, as it is almost incredible to report: when God knows the worthy Gentleman came home, and hardly had saved his own. Sundry of these could I set down, beside that paltry rude rhyme, wherein an honourable parsonage of this Realm was so palpably abused. But what cares he? not a Barley corn: for he calls himself a Canonier, and in the discharge of pot-shot, cares not at whom he level, so he fasten on the white, that by diminutive degrees is drawn from the strings of his Stationer's purse. But I remember ye told me once, his newes-buyer is no Stationer, yet I am sure he is a Ballad-seller, and hath a whole Army of runagates at his reversion that swarm every where in England, and with their ribald songs infect the Youth of this flourishing Commonweal. I marvel who the devil is his Printer: and but that I am assured, it cannot be done but by some man's help of that profession, I should hardly be persuaded, that any professor of so excellent a Science would be so impudent, to print such odious and lascivious ribaldry, as Watkins Ale, The Carman's Whistle, and sundry such other. But it may be, there is some wainscot faced fellow, that is abel to print no good thing, found out to be his instrument: if it be so, it were not greatly amiss, might my censure serve for a determinate sentence, that he might dance at a Cartes tail the Carman's whistle, till his back were as well seasoned as his face. But this belongs to higher powers: return we to our first man. Who, how ever his credit may be impaired by the publishing of untrue news, it hath not been a little recovered by the exquisite Translation of Fortune's Defier Andrugio. For this is to be proved, he so followed his Author, that not the best Scholar in the world can reprove him of digression. Indeed (as I take it) it was first written in broken English, & so I am sure it is printed: for if he had not in some measure the English tongue, he woul● be utterly mute. But here may a question be moved, if this that I affirm be true; where shall we have Gerileon by him Englished, sith he understands not French? Why easily. Is it not a Fiction first devised in French? Yes So shall it be in English. Why tell me, art thou so impudent to abuse the work of so noble a Gentleman, as the French Author was; wherein such excellent policy, such moral prudence, such singular conceited passions are included? Go too, let me not take thee publishing a counterfeit part thereof in print: if I do, I will hang Saint Peter's Church Corner with such Scutcheons of thy shame, that Mannering musing what it should mean, shall never cease bestirring him with his tipstaff, till at Landen Hall all the Ballad-●ingers be gathered into one Assembly; and there in rhyme doggerel (like thy Winter bitten Epitaph) carol thy rude conceits. But whether run I? Let this be 〈◊〉 for a warning, and so will I leave him to the mercy of his mother wit. Beseeching you to proceed, as you have begun in that delectable History, which as it is much desired for the delightfulness thereof; so shall you be no less commended for your diligence therein.  Your friend. T. N.  

THE SECOND BOOK OF THE PLEAsant History, of Gerileon of England.  

Cap. 1.  
How the Infant Porphiria, daughter to the Emperor of Constantinople, being very sick for the love of the Fairy youth that was sent by Ozyris: is brought (by the means of Sagibell her Physician, in the company of Marcelia and Harderin● her cozen,) to a Castle near Constantinople, for change of air. Where the wise Sagibell promised to let her see by art Magic, in what estate her friend was the Knight of the Fairies, with his original and adventures.  
THe Princess Porphiria having taken no rest, since the day and hour when falsely the maid Dynamia, sister to Pharisor, and Amidrea who dearly loved him, notwithstanding she receiving no love again, came to inform her, how the Fairy youth on whom she had fastened such earnest affection, as it was not possible for any King or Prince like himself, to be beloved of any Princess, as he was of the Infant Porphiria: was slain, with Pharisor, who had won like conquest of the Virgin Amidrea, and that the murderer was gone to make his vaunt in the Emperor her father's Court, of such a monstrous and unhappy deed, clad in his Armour, and mounted on the good Knight's horse that had vanquished the Giants, as is declared in the xvi. Chapter of the first Book of this nistorie. After she had by insupportable grief, swooned many times, she fell into an extreme burning fever: as what with the violence thereof, and her baleful passions of love together, she had at this instant died, but that she was continually comforted by the Ladies Harderina and Marcelia, after that the Giant Ergoferant, who followed in quest of the unknown Knight, and having found him, brought him to the emperors Court, where in eight days his wounds were healed. By means whereof, these Ladies (who knew well the cause of the In●ants disease) persuaded her so much as they could: with this hope grounded in them, that the death of the Knight and Fairy youth, was no more certain or to be credited, than the report of Pharisor: And that the unknown Knight who rumoured forth these tidings, had done it but for the advantage of his glory, or to cover the dishonour he received in the joust: which made her somewhat to recomfort herself, so that (but for her fever) she might easily have recovered her former state of health.  
But if she suffered such anguish for her friend, the Fairy youth endured no whit less for her, in that his love took life at that instant, when she did him the honour to gird on his sword with her delicate hands: but he fearing that their loves were not reciprocal, languished in self same fits as the Infant did, esteeming himself so unfortunate and slenderly favoured by love: that he thought their wounds to proceed from shafts of contrary nature, whereby the cure of either would prove as different. Thus did the fire search through the bone to the marrow, and he was so distracted in himself (as hath been touched in the former Book) as wandering from the care he had to seek the unknown Knight, to revenge the death of his good friend Pharicor: he now hath lost himself, in thinking and contemplating on that heavenly beauty, which lay nearest his heart, and above all things else he most preferred. So that in steed of taking the right way, for embarking himself so some strange country: he returned with his Squire Geliaste towards the City of Constantinople, imagining (nevertheless) that he road far enough from it. On the other side, the Princess Porphiria was even at death's door, for the love of her knighth, and so far extended each extremity, as notwithstanding all sovereign remedies appplyed, from one hour to another, a dangerous end was still expected.  
The Emperor and Empress were wonderful grieved at their daughter's sickness, not knowing whence the occasion thereof proceeded: and therefore wholly committed her to the care of Sagibell her Physician, a man most expert and skilful in the art of medicine. This Physician was likewise greatly experimented in the art Magic, and the Princess of long time discerned in him very special affection and fidelity towards her: wherefore among divers contrary opinions, which day and night combated in her labouring thoughts, she imagined how to find some ease for her afflictions, and sent for him by the Lady Marcelia, who knew much better than the physician where the disease pained her, she being then to Harderina participating these secrets. Right prompt and ready was she to obey the Princess will, and suddenly went to find this wise man, who was altogether confounded with grief and pensiveness, because he could not attain the mean, whereby the fair Princes might recover footing again: for to her service he was entirely affected, considering that all his happiness depended on her safety and health, and she recured it would enrich him for ever: for the Emperor had promised him, that if by his skill he could restore his daughter, he would return him such a recompense, as should both exalt and content him for ever. But without any such promise Sagibell was careful enough of the Infant's health, and failed not in his very uttermost endeavours: and Porphiria (for her part) was willing to bestow on this skilful man, what ever she might enjoy by the Emperor and Empress, provided, that her amorous sickness might find desired recovery. Whereupon, Marcelia having told him the Princes would speak with him, and that with speed he should repair to her chamber: without further questioning with the Lady, he went thither immediately, not a little joyful of this message, which he hoped might presage some good to ensue, because having so lately left her, he was now so suddenly sent for. When Sagibell was come to her, he demanded how she felt herself: When the Princess (breathing forth a deep fetched sigh from the bottom of her heart) thus spoke unto him. Ah Sagibell, impossible is it I should be well, considering the estate wherein I am, all your medicines and drugs having no ability to give me my former strength, health and quietness; yet notwithstanding, your knowledge might do me great good service, if you were so pleased. Sagibell was not a little abashed at the words of the Princess, and knew not what to conjecture of them, because they implied such a contradiction: for she said all his medicines and drugs could not help her, and yet she might be highly benefited by his knowledge, which made him to return this answer. Why Madam, do you think I have made spare of my knowledge, and that I have not endeavoured my uttermost (according to Art) to set ye on your feet again? Thereof I am persuaded my good friend Sagibell, quoth she, but your art of medicine is not available for me in this case: for were your God Apollo, Aesculapius, Hipocrates and Galen here present to give me remedy, yet could they understand no more of my disease than you do. But will ye promise to be faithful and secret to me, as I did never yet find ye otherwise: and I shall acquaint ye with the cause and original of my grief, which when ye have understood, easily by your knowledge may the effect be taken away. The Physician who was quick conceited, began to wax jealous of the cause, gathering by her words, that love had made a great breach into her tender heart: yet making show as though he suspected no such matter, he said to the Princess. Believe (good Madam) that I will be secret to ye, and continue such fidelity towards ye, as the Emperor your father and yourself have always found in me. The Princess being in bed, caused her pillows to be raised, to the end she might deliver her mind with the more ease: and having heard the answer of her Physician, with voice faint and weak, intermeddled with a thousand sighs, she thus began.  
My sickness is caused by the love I bear to the fairy youth, if he live not, then think a speedy end will deliver me from this anguish: except you take pity on me, and secure me in other sort then as yet you have done, I know you are skilful in the Magic science, and that by Art you can let me see him alive or dead: he is the man, whose only remembrance gives life and content to my amorous passions. Then let me see in what estate he is, for nothing else can ease my afflictions, and all remedies else are utterly in vain, as by the applying and proof you have hitherto beheld. I had not known above fourteen or fifteen years, when first his love made seizure on my heart, even amongst the Ladies of the Empress my mother, where I was constrained to swoon in the public assembly: he than that hath occasioned this hurt to me, can take it away and give me help, but it consists in you to give me some ease by your knowledge, in showing me my friend alive, wherein I desire to be resolved, because I stand in doubt he is dead. If I be assured of his end, than mine hath no long date of continuance, so shall I be freed from these extreme passions, which not alone wounds my heart, but divides in sunder my very soul: leaving me so disconsolate, as but I was comforted by one of my Ladies, long since had I pass out of this miserable life into a better.  
Sagibell having attentively heard the Princess, thus answered. Madame you have well seen my faithful service towards ye till this present, and be ye assured, that though it valued the price of my life, yet will I hazard all for the safety of yours: for so must I confess myself bound to do in duty, in regard ye have discovered to me such a secret, as never could be gathered by the rules of physic, beside, the many honours done me, in being toward the Emperor and you, commands me to do my uttermost for your good. Most gladly then do I yield to satisfy you request, but perhaps it cannot be so soon as you would, because here I may not make proof of any such practice by art, for fear of being discovered: it behooves us then to find out, a place more proper and convenient, and it were not much amiss, the better to colour our enterprise, that the Emperor were given to understand, that it is needful for your health to change this air, otherwise your life will be in great hazard. As for the place, both fair, delightful, and agreeing with your intent, choose the Castle of pleasure which the Emperor hath hard at hand: and there may ye commodiously without any suspicion, have knowledge of him you love so dearly, and understand likewise of whence he is.  
The Princess entreated him very earnestly that it might be so, and forthwith to move the matter to the Emperor: which he having effected, she would requite it with such liberality, as he should have cause to extol his good fortune. The physician having in this sort comforted her, and given her hope of knowing what most she desired: took his leave, promising very quickly to return again, to tell her how he sped with the Emperor. Before whom when he was come, both he and the Empress demanded of the physician, the estate of Porphiria their daughter: when Sagibell answered, that he thought it meet she should change the air, to see if that in any sort would amend her, for he was of opinion, that the alteration of the air would do her great good, and bring her to her former health and strength, next to the grace of God. And whither were it best (quoth the Emperor) she should be removed? To some fair and pleasant place, replied Sagibell, that her body finding ease by change of air, her eye might likewise be delighted with pleasing objects. It were good then (said the Emperor) to convey her to my Castle near at hand, which is seatedmeruailous fitly for such a purpose. There cannot be (quoth Sagibell) a place more convenable, but it were not expedient that any train should accompany her, for disquieting her head with goers and comers to speak with her: and I doubt not, but (by God's help) you shall shortly see her as well and merry as ever she was, albeit now she is more likely to die then live. God prosper your attempt then (said the Emperor) and turning toward the Empress, thus he proceeded. Do you (Madam) cause all her equipage to be provided, and appoint such Ladies for her company as you shall think meet. In this time of their conference, Sagibell departed, and advertised the princess how he had sped, showing likewise what resolution was set down, to transport her to the place himself before had named. Whereof the princess not a littlle joyful, though weak, yet hoping to receive some comfort: entreated the physician to hasten this journey.  
Sagibell was scant departed the princess chamber, but the Empress entered, having her eyes full of tears, and her heart cloyed with grief, accompanied with her Ladies and Gentlewomen, saying to her daughter: that for recovery of her health, it was thought expedient she should change the air, and (it she were so pleased) she should be conducted to the emperors Castle of pleasure, which was not far without the City of Constantinople. She answered with a spent and wearied voice, that she submitted herself to their good pleasures, and desired she might have to keep her company, her Cousin Harderina and the Lady Marcelia. You shall have them (quoth the Empress) with all things else shall stand with your liking: in mean while then be of good cheer, that we may ●ee ye well again, so soon as possible may be, if ye regard the joy of the Emperor and me.  
Having spoken these words, the tears fell from her eyes in such abundance, grieving to see the fair princess of the world in this weak estate: as being overcome with sorrow, she was constrained to departed the chamber, not saying any thing, but that she should rest herself awhile, and she would go give order for her departure. Which accordingly she did, and after all things were in a readiness, the day being still, calm and clear, Sagibell advised the Emperor and Empress, that now the time served most f●tly, for conveying the princess to the place appointed: without making any longer stay, lest any contrary accident should happen, as ●ight cross their determination so sound and profitable. Wherefore the Empress, with consent of the princess Porphiria, (who was pale, wan, and consumed with grief, as nothing was expected more than her burial, so wonderfully was she weakened and changed, having lost her vermilion blush, the life and essence of her divine beauty, which made her loved and honoured of the most fair and valiant Knight of the world, to wit, the man so far renowned by Ozyris:) caused a Litter to be brought, covered with green velvet, and lined all through within with the same, the nails and frindges of bea●en gold, and the arches over head richly embolished: wherein was laid the languishing and amorous princess, who seemed therein as a bright shining Sun, such as chased Diana amongst the troup of her fair Nymphs, and therein was placed with her Harderina, to entertain the time of journey with comfortable speeches. Each one may imagine (without any setting down in writing) the woeful sighs and tears of the father and mother, and the general lamentations on every side at this departure, for they had neither heard or seen any cause of rejoicing in long time before.  
In this sort, and very well accompanied, especially with her physician, she was conducted to a very fair and pleasant Castle, which the Emperor had caused to be built five or six miles from the City of Constantinople, wherein (because it was seated and builded so marvelous strongly) the emperors treasure, riches, and most precious jewels were kept. This Castle was erected very stately to behold, for the walls wherewith it was environed, was of sto●e, so white as ●ine ivory: the enclosures and base courts were on the one side guarded with the main Sea, and on the other with ditches so large and deep, as the space contained three quarters of a mile, rather more than less, so saith the Historian, that saw the measure thereof taken by a Geomatrician of that time when it was made. It was bodied with many beautiful lodgings, in goodly fair Towers and Turrets, every chamber being in most sweet and wholesome air, and backed with sundry galleries of all sorts and fashions, the coverings whereof were of lead, wrought and cut into many curidus devices of workmanship, having standing aloft thereon, fair veins and weather cocks of gold and silver. The Gardens and Arbours were he●d in with swift run rivers and clear fountains, and to say all in brief, there wanted not any thing that could be imagined, both to strengthen the place, as also beseeming such a dainty compassed Castle. Heereinto was brought (by the council of her physician) the most fair princess of the world, for more assured commodity of knowing and seeing what she most desired, according to the promise of the wise Magician: in whom she reposed very great hope and trust, and there happened to her what ye shall read hereafter, for now we must borrow a little leave to speak of other matters.   

Chap. 2.  
Of the Sophy of persia's love to the beautiful Porphiria, and how he forsook and left his kingdom, to go see if her exquisite perfections answered the report of her renown. And how on the way he met two Pilgrims of divers sort, the one whereof recounted to him the prowess, beauty, and high chivalry of the Fairy youth, during which time they heard a great noise in a Forest, which caused them go thither. Wherein one may note, how amorous passions do so master the hearts of the greatest personages, as leading them from the paths of reason: they forsake what is their duty, and all important affairs whatsoever, cannot withdraw them from serving their affections. And by the Pilgrims discourse, we may see how commendable true and sincere friendship is, and that a good turn ought to be greatly esteemed, and binds him in no small bond that hath received it, especially the heart addicted to nobleness and virtue.  
I Have heretofore declared, as ye may read in the fourteenth and sixtéenth chapters of the former Book, that the great and puissant king of Persia, was wonderfully surprised with the love of this fair princess, whom because we so lately left, ye cannot easily forget: and that by all means possible he could devise, he sought how he might attain her to be his wife. So that imagining the contrariety of his religion, might yield some reason of hindrance, he caused himself to be baptised, to the end all his people might become christian's, he sent for divers divines into Christendom, that they should come preach, and do all the other services of good and faithful Christians in his kingdom. Notwithstanding this which he did was but counterfeit and dissimulation, that so (under this pretext) he might the more easily induce the good Emperor of Constantinople father to the maid, without difficulty to grant his marriage. And to this end sent he messengers and ambassadors expressly to him, to understand his pleasure, attending which time, transported with impatience of so long delay: one day he determined secretly to departed himself, that he might behold this so famous beauty, by whose picture (drawn to the life by some excellent painter of that time,) he had drunk this sweet syrup of conceived love. And as he had suddenly thus determined, as suddenly did he put it in execution, not having any company with him but a Squire of his own, whose fidelity he never called in question: to him he gave his Helmet and Lance to bear, is Helmet (I say) which was beyond all other in temper and goodness, having on the Crest thereof a bright shining Carbuncle, made in resemblance of the Sun, which an hundred paces every way about him, gave in the night time such an exceeding clearness and light, as doth the Moon when she is in her fullest perfection. He sometimes won it from a great and puissant king of Assiria, whom he had conquered in combat, that for the prize of victory, had set his kingdom against a part of Persia: but after the conquest, he released him, and in recompense of such wonderful courtesy, the Ass●●ian gave him this Helmet, which he esteemed more than all his good. Here upon the Sophy did usually wear it, when he went in any notable or signal expedition, and especially when he had any occasion to travail by night about any affairs of importance, as this which now he had undertaken: leaving his kingdom in weak and poor estate, through diversity of religions which there he suffered. And this oftentimes is cause of the entire ruin and desolation, of the very greatest Monarchies and commonwealths, yet left he the rule to one of his brethren, a young man, void of experience in such high affairs. And albeit he was apt to arms, and a good knight in trial of his person: yet had he not sense and understanding, to govern the helm of so huge a vessel, as was the monarchy of Persia. Thus was the Sophy not assured of his sufficiency, and but that his head was troubled with amorous conceits, he would not have reposed any such trust in him: but let it be, he did it by indiscretion, or else for more assurance of his secret departure, not thinking his voyage would be so long as afterward it proved, suffice it he did not wisely, as you shall perceive by the discourse following in the history.  
Having committed this poor kind of order to his very greatest affairs, he departed in equipage as ye have heard, riding many days and nights together, under clearness of his marvelous shining helmet, without finding any adventure worthy the writing, and passed thorough divers Cities of his own kingdom, unknown of any one, and made such quick expedition, as he came to the utmost merge of Persia: where finding a Bark ready to departed, in few days he landed in the desert of Arabia, and from thence by great travail, not without enduring sundry hazards and perils on the way, he reached the country of Palestine, still carried on with the inward remembrance of his love, as he little regarded whether he road right or wrong. Being thus arrived in this country, he entered into a Forest thick beset with trees, which contained many mi●es both in length and breadth, wherein he had not ridden any long while, but he met two pilgrims conferring together: the one of them being young of age, and endued with very singular beauty, for his hair was yellow like wires of gold, and the pretty down on his cheeks and chin was of the same colour, in his face like wise stood the lively colour of the Rose: his stature was neither great nor small, but indifferent every way: his broad ha● was garnished with Scallop shells round about, and Medialles of gold and silver, intermingled with little pilgrim stones of ivory very artificially framed: his Cassock and hose was of fine linen cloth, and at his girdle hung a little bottle, wherein he had both wine and water, according as he had occasion to use them, and in his hand a staff piked at both the ends. The other pilgrim was an old man, the hair of whose head and heard was of reddish colour, grizzled among with many white hairs, his visage dry and withered, and tanned with blackness almost like a Moor, flat nosed, the tooth standing in his head very ugly to behold, of very evil favour was he and disposition: his stature was gross and short, big bulkt before down to the girdle, and on his back arising mountain: his garments were of old besmered leather, all ragged and torn, and his hat (in steed of shells) was garnished with scales of some young Tortoise: his Medailles were of saffronned lead, where among stood little staves of the bones of dead beasts. The Sophy drawing near them, saluted them very courteously, and addressing his speech to the younger man, demanded of whence he was, whether he went, and wherefore he was disguised in that sort, considering that his countenance delivered him to be a man of other quality than his garments made show of: and if I be not deceived (said the Sophy) you are descended of some noble lineage, and are a man likewise of no mean valour. Sir, answered the pilgrim, if ye will somewhat slack the pace of your horse, and (withholding his bridle) make him go according as we do, if likewise ye will vouchsafe such patience, as to hear my discorsive answer to all your questions: I shall satisfy ye concerning the matters inquired, and beside acquaint ye with other things, whereat ye will not a little marvel. Believe me, said the Persian king. I am very well contented, and I think my horse would gladly ease his pace awhile: then the pilgrim thus began. My Lord, because I perceive both by your words and behaviour, that you are a man more accustomed to command then obey, I would entreat ye not to be offended, if talking familiarly with ye, perhaps I have indiscréetly said, that to listen what I conceive worthy of marvel, you should enforce your Steed to a more gentle pace, that happily would run so fast as he could, according to the weighty affairs of importance you go about: which hardly will permit ye to stay my discourse, being (in regard of yourself) not so worthy hearing as I esteemed, but rather may yield ye more discontent than pleasure. If then I have offended herein, or shall do by over tedious circumstance: I beseech ye imagine I was not well advised, which in respect of my submission, may the more easily be pardoned. Well, well, quoth the king, use no more words concerning me, but answer what I have demanded: for were I not so desirous to know, I would not show myself so inquisitive, and if your discourse be worthy the hearing, as you have said, it cannot be too long for me to listen, or displeasing any way, but very acceptable.  
First then (quoth the Pilgrim) you must understand, that albeit in this estate you behold me, yet am I descended of noble lineage, for my father bears the title and crown of a king, and my mother was sister to the puissant Emperor of Constantinople, a man that (for his manifold virtues) deserveth to be highly esteemed and accounted of. In whose Court, both in my youngest age, and since the time of mine infancy, I was carefully nourished and brought up: until the hour I received knighthood, which is no long time since. Notwithstanding, after I began to enterprise my first exploits of good or bad fortune, trusting more to the strength and dexterity of my body, than reason would I should, for a proof or trial what I could do: I was so hardy one day, to go in person alone, to adventure on the Den or Cave of Rock Alpine, and there assailed the horrible Giants Ferclaste, Androfort and Ergoferant, by whom I was vanquished, and long time kept as prisoner there very mimiserable. For after I had a great while endured the fight against Androfort, without suffering him to gain the very lest advantage over me: the cruel Ferclaste came treacherously behind me, and gave me such a weighty blow on my helmet, as laid me well near dead at his foot: and strange it was that he took not my life from me, as my over much boldness had deserved. But as the Glead snatcheth up a Chicken in her talents, so almost dead, and with like facility, did he grasp me up, caring me into a strict and darksome prison: where I endured such misery and dolour, as hardly could a humane creature suffer the like, by reason of the wounds I had received in the fight, which with the hard entertainment they gave me beside, (being bloody enemies by nature, and men in whom no natural compassion harboured) was insupportable. An hundred times they would have put me to death, if I had had an hundred lives for them to tirannise on, but that the remembrance of the grace of God, and his son crucified for the redemption of man, on whom incessantly I evermore called, was still my succour and comfort: and their brother Ergoferant, a man of more mild and gentle nature than the other were, did all that possibly he might, to preserve me from death. Nevertheless, the cruelty and rigour of the prison wherein I was so strictly detained, was such, as I knew not whether I lived or no: but the Almighty, in whom continually I trusted, taking compassion upon my misery, casting down his eye of pity, sent to deliver me out of this captivity, by an unexpected help, as I shall declare unto ye.  
First give me leave to tell ye, that one (without the knowledge of any man) arrived in the great emperors court of Constantinople, a young knight, so beautiful as an angel in all perfections: yet no one there knew him, neither did himself know who were his parents, but said he was sent thither by a Fairy named Ozyris, who from his infancy had nourished and brought him up, likewise of her he received horse, armour, and all things else beseeming a young gallant that sought the order of knighthood, without which it was not lawful for any one to meddle with the search of adventures, or to attempt exploits of arms and chivalry, whereby renown and honour was achieved, and religiously observed among the professors thereof. I will not trifle time with particular discourse, how well shaped, lusty, and fair his horse was, caparasonned so rich and costly, as all the beholders much admired thereat: it shall suffice in one word to tell ye, that never was seen in the time of our memory, a young man, who in countenance, aspect, and assured behaviour, could promise more lovely deeds of arms, and galliardise of person, than he did: nor was there any one, whose eyes could be glutted, or heart satisfied with looking on him, imagining that he was sent from heaven by the grace of God, to do some act of memory for the benefit of the Empire, as it was not long before it came so to pass. For he who by the advise of the Fairy was thus sent to the court, to require of the Emperor his order of knighthood, after he had humbly entreated it at his hand: with great honour was it given him, and all the worthy observations thereto belonging, the most divine and fair princess Porphiria, daughter to the Emperor, girding on his sword: in the doing whereof (a thing worthy noting) the sweet Roseate redness in her cheeks, suddenly changed to such a lively vermilion hue, that they which before imagined no addition could be made to make her more beautiful, because she contained such an absolute perfection, by this effect were drawn to a quite contrary opinion. For she seemed such as the Knight himself did, upon whose front sat an assured boldness, with a countenance immovable, blandished with such a sweet gravity, as if some alteration had suddenly entered his thoughts, and that present affection had surprised him, which (as I learned of such, who take heedful regard in like occasion, and therefore marked this the more narrowly) proved so in deed. The morrow after this young youth was made knight, for proof of the exterior valour that seemed to be in him, the Emperor feasting and entertaining him accordingly: gave him to understand of the manstrous and inhuman giants Ferclaste and Androfort, who too much injured and oppressed the whole country. This hardy new knight, presently determined so go combats with them, desiring to achieve by the price of his blood and peril of his life such immortal praise: withal, to express his thankfulness to the Emperor, for the great honour he had done him, whereto he was bound by all means possible he could devise: not being ignorant I warrant ye, that the power of a mighty enemy was not so much to be feared, as the favour of so great a parsonage was to be cherished and maintained.  
Being then secretly departed from the Court, to put in execution this fair enterprise, such was his happy fortune, after a long, doubtful and dangerous fight, wherein he endured more pain than I am able to rehearse: that he got the victory of the Giants, killing two of them, and the third he took to mercy. This deed which I have discoursed to ye, was of greatest honour that ever was heard of in our time: and the Emperor hearing thereof, was driven to no little admiration, especially when he understood the certain truth in deed. It is reported, that these news being blazed abroad in sundry countries, as indeed they were in mo●● known places of the world: that the great Sea itself was sore troubled, and the greatest part of the forest of Ardene was distraunched, and the rest of the Trees stood half rend in sunder, without any honour of their former verdure. The great flood of Egypt overflowed the banks, and left the common course where it was wont to glide, being so furious and outrageous: as the people of Egypt were more than half part drowned, and the whole land so covered with water, as many were forced to endure famishment, others (with conceit of grief) died presently. For myself, I can hardly be drawn to credit these reports, because such insensible things cannot be moved by any so great a marvel: I rather conjecture, that this came from some Poets of those times, who (as Painters do take an audacious licence, to justify by their writing and painting what never was) to make the more ample discourse of this deed so full of admiration, did set down the history in this manner.  
But howsoever it was, to come again to my purpose, I know it well, and that for a certainty, that the knight having vanquished the Giants, and annihillated all their forces, that he came to deliver me out of that accursed prison, wherein I had been so long time enthralled. And when he understood that I was named Pharisor, a knight of some fame, and Nephew to the Emperor: most kindly he came and embraced me, suffering me to do the like to him, by whom I had received so great a benefit. Then began I to remember (according as I had often times heard talked of before, and that by no mean personages in times past,) that we should account the day of our desiverance from any miserable bondage, much more happy than the day when first we were borne into this world: because from the day of our birth, we g● on still forward into diversity of misfortunes, but on the day of our delivery, we were restored from such a fear, as we never need to stand in doubt of any more: thus are we no less bound to the cause of our deliverance, then to our parents from whom we receive life. And beer upon we contracted together such an entire l●agne of amity, as death should not separate or extinct our affections: nor was the love of the valorous Achilles to Patroclus, Nysus to Euryalus, or Pylades to Or●stes, worthy to be compared with my affection to him. For albeit by ungentle fortune we are sundered the one from the other, the grief and sadness I endure for his absence, hath constrained me to disguise myself in these habiliments as ye see, thus barefooted as I am, to go and visit the holy Sepulthre, wherein was buried the precious body of the redeemer of the world: to which place I am bound, by a solemn vow long since made, to give him hearty thanks for my deliverance, and with great devotion and humility to entreat, that it would please him I might soon recover and see again my true Achilles: to whom I own not only this office of friendship, but an hundred lives if possibly I could have so many, and this I doubt not but he will permit me.  
As thus the young Pilgrim continued his discourse on the way, they came to a place in the Forest which was very spacious and plain, in the midst whereof stood a great thicket of marvelous high trees: and there they heard such a clanching of sword upon armour, as all the whole forest echoed therewith, which caused the Sophy and the young pilgrim direct their course thither ward, to see what it was: but as for the old pilgrim, so soon as he heard the noise, he set foot forward more speedy than the wind, to seek some corner where he might hide him. And there will we leave him, and proceed with the Sophy and the young pilgrim: what happened to them shall be declared in the other chapter, for in this hath been sufficient said already.   

Cap. 3.  
How the Sophy found in the forest two strong and puissant Knights, that fought together (at all extremities) for a fair horse, and other things of great value, exposed as guerdon to the conqueror. And how the Sophy would have taken and carried away perforce, the horse for which the knights combated, which made them run violently upon him, and of the dissension that ensued between them three, how it took end, and what happened afterward. Where out may be gathered, how hurtful a thing arrogancy is, to such as inconsiderately will enterprise more, than they are assured of power to effect: and how in all affairs whatsoever, it is necessary to place advise and knowledge in the forefront, ere we undertake to perform any matter of importance.  
THe great King of Persia being come first to the plain, where the noise caused him forsake his way, to know the occasion of that hurly burly: beheld two Knights, of more than common stature, being armed capape, who fought very violently together, to slay each other. The one of them was more mighty of body than the other, because he was of monstrous and Giantlike composition: but in dexterity of arms and valour of courage, he went not so far beyond his enemy, but that the greater part of the day was spent, yet little advantage was gained on either side. For if the Giant's shield were battered in pieces, his body wounded, and his strength much diminished: the knight with whom he dealt had likewise his armour sore mangled, and his body injured in many places, from whence the blood issued in great abundance, and at the time of the Persians arrival there, they were upon the point to pause a breathing while, being unable to withstand each other any longer, so were they overtravailed with a sharp and dangerous conflict, which as it had▪ so was it still to continue between them. The Sophy, without inquiring the cause of their debate, or speaking any word to the knights (for he was marvelous proud and arrogant) alighted from his horse in great haste, and went to untie a goodly fair horse, which he saw bound to a tree with great chains of ●ron: but as he was about to do it, being somewhat to near the horse, he smote him such a violent stroke with his heel upon the shield, as made him tumble along so amazedly, that he lay a good while ere he could recover himself again: and had not his shield been of some temper indeed, he had not lived to complain of his hurt. But the goodness of the metal saved his life for this once, when being risen again from his astonishment, he would not desist from his former enterprise, which was to take and bear the horse, that so highly liked him: as well for the beauty and likelihood of goodness to be in him, as also for the necessity he was in of one at that time, his own horse being over much wearied with travail. When the two Combatants perceived what he intended, they cried to him, that he could not carry thence the horse so easily, without buying him more dearly with the price of the combat: and that if he did not forbear and let the horse alone, he should by them be well beaten, as his boldness did deserve no less.  
The King of Persia hearing these hardy menaces, was enraged with such choler, that having fastened his Helmet on his head, and gotten his sword in his hand● he made presently toward them, with resolution to deal with them both, striking first at the Giant's leg with such force, as if he had not quickly clapped his shield before, he had cut it quite off at that blow: But the Giant who was ready at arms, as any man of his quality in those times, to defend this stroke thrust forward his shield, the greater part whereof was pared away with the blow, and laid on the ground, which the other knight perceiving to whom the Persian addressed himself, aiming at a part of his body, which he saw was bare by loss of some of his armour: but he escaping the thrust, gave the Sophy such a mighty stroke on the Crest, as had it been any other Helmet, beside this marvelous one and not to be equalled, as before I have told ye: he had cleft his head down to the shoulders, but of such soundness was the helmet, as certain sparks of fire issued thereout, not receiving any other harm by the stroke, whereat the Giant not a little enraged, said, that to him alone appertained the chastising of the Persian king, and not to any other: because he had received the first stroke at his hands, and beside, himself was the more able man for the combat. Likewise, quoth the Giant, to me belongeth the defence of the horse, and not to thee, as thou knowest well enough, and better can I maintain the fight than thou, as the dealing between us twain hath well given thee to understand, and would I have used my uttermost forces against thee, I needed not have wasted so much time in vain, for long ere this our strife had been ended. Now because I perceive there is some more valour in th●● then in him, I am willing to spare thee so much as possible I may: wherein (notwithstanding) I would not have thee overween thyself, in presuming to impeach me, when I shall chasten this rustical fellow, who thus ventured to trouble us, when I was upon the point of giving end to our strife, and thylife together: whereto the knight Combatant thus replied.  
I know well Giant, that commonly the people of thy sort are mighty and strong, by reason of their greatness beyond other men: but withal, they have much less courage, valour and virtue, than presumption and arrogancy, as at this present I may gather by thy words which I find to be more haughty and proud, then either thy strength or dexterity to arms is, albeit (without show of fainting) thou hast done thy best to vanquish me, and never dealt I with any one, that held me harder tack than thou hast done, since the beginning of our combat, at the end whereof I am certainly persuaded, that I shall remain the conqueror: as long ere this I had been, if this knight had not been our hindrance. And therefore the correcting of him appertaineth to me, and not thee, as having more right to the horse, the shield, and the Cup, the prizes of our combat, than thou hast: thou oughtest therefore to withdraw thyself, and leave the fight alone to me, otherwise I shall be enforced to set myself against thee with him, thereby to offend thee the more. Much rather had I a thousand times (answered the Giant) to fight against ten such as thou art, then to give thee such an advantage: such is the small esteem I make of thee. These words were no sooner ended, but the Sophy and the knight ran both upon the Giant: the one to hinder him from dealing alone with the Sophy, and the other to bear away the horse, and allay the pride of the Giant.  
Soon after, the Sophy and the Giant (for the same intent) put themselves against the knight, and immediately (without keeping any order among them) the Giant and the knight fought against the Sophy: by means whereof, the combat was of as long continuance as disorder between them, which was very pernicious and dangerous for them, had it not been that the young pilgrim, who but newly arrived there upon this confused bickering, and seeing such an unruly manner of fight, as in all his life time he had not seen the like, sharp, rigorous, and cruel, on each side, and one or other must in the end bear away the worst: he adventured to separate them with his staff, but the blows fell so thick, that it was quickly cut in three pieces, which when he saw, and doubting greater harm might happen to him: he was enforced to keep aloof, and stand as a beholder of this cruel combat. Long continued this reasonless fight, h●e not being able to judge who had the better: saving that the Sophy seemed more fresh and less wearied then the other, but at length, with the consent of the Sophy, who had as than least need of all, they sundered themselves to breathe a while, when the young Pilgrim thus bespoke them.  
My Lords, it were a great loss, if three such knights of so great valour, and endued with haughty resolution, as I perceive you all are, that it may be judged your equals live not in the world: should perish so miserably, as I know you cannot but finish your days in this combat begun, only through want of due order to be observed among ye, following such reasonable counsel and advise, as might be given ye. Already have you spent most part of the day, yet no one of ye can certainly make vaunt of any advantage over his enemy: neither (for aught I perceive) doth any one of ye know which is his adversary, nor against whom he ought especially to direct himself: for sometimes two bears themselves against one, and then that one joins with one of the two against the third: in continuance of which most kind of fight, it cannot be but all three at the last will miserably end their lives: so that no man shall be able so say which is the conqueror, or who bears away the honour of the combat, whereby your intent was to merit commendation: but now on the contrary ye shall get no praise at all▪ but rather be esteemed as insensible and misgoverned, whereas well ye wots, that reputation and account is the principal guerdon of noble and valiant knights, that make profession of arms. Thus shall your parents if ye have any be grieved, your friends will be wail your mishaps, and your country, that challengeth your uttermost endeavours, will lament your wilful loss, beside the sorrow of such as in distress receive succour by virtuous knights. Rather should each of ye take one of those lances that leans against yonder Tree, and try the fortune of the joust one after another, till it may be seen which shall be dismounted, and then to pursue the combat afterward, when the third may adventure as he sees occasion. Thus shall the victor be discerned, and who is worthy the honour of the field, when he that paused while the other fought, may enter the Lists against the conqueror: but if ye continue in this order ye have begun, the greater will be your danger, and all three will foil themselves thorough choler and overweening.  
Thus spoke the Pilgrim, and the Combatants (after they had rested a while) creditting his council, and liking well of his advise: took each of them a Lance, and mounted on their horses to begin the joust, whereto the readiest were the Giant and the knight, against whom he fought before the coming of the Sophy, who could not so soon recover his horse, because he had strayed aside, and was grazing alone by himself in the Forest. In mean while these two ran fiercely against each other with their Lances, and met together with such ●urie, as when two billows of the sea meet violently, when the wind carrieth them contrary to their course, and then breaks them aloft in the air with a most terrible mumur. The Lances being shivered in a thousand pieces, flew like a fire thorough the air, and their horses being shrewdly hurt with meeting their shoulders together, broke their girts, cruppers, and their other comparisons, and tumbled along on the ground with their masters, each having the saddle between his legs: making such a terrible noise with the fall, as the ground trembled and shook more than a mile about the place: and they, having their shields battered, and their sides mortally wounded, lay in a trance upon the earth, without moving either hand or foot, but as though the life and soul were parted in sunder. Whereat the Sophy abashed, began not a little to marvel, shaving stood a good while waiting when the one or other would rise and urge the combat: and seeing neither of them stir, he ran to the place where the horse was tied, which they combated for. But seeing he was not there, and could not tell what was become of his Squire likewise, he followed a path that led further into the Forest, which when he had tracked a long time, not meeting any one, it happened to him as you shall hear in the Chapter following.   

Chap. 4.  
What fortuned to the Sophy, after the hard encounter between the two strong and puissant knights, that fought the Combat in the Forest. And how he took away perforce the great Lycocephall from a damosel, that made a grievous complaint holding him by the bridle, and how afterward he departed with her. How the young Pilgrim mounted one of the wounded knights upon his horse, the succour which he gave him, by conducting him to a place, where remedy might be given to his wounds. What the old misshapen Pilgrim was, and the speech he had with the mighty Giant Squamell: how he found the Tree whereof the Pilgrim told him, and what happened to him. Wherein may be seen, what chastisement foolish and overbold women are worthy of, that misprize and disdain the service done for them, and with what punishment their ingratitude is often times recompensed. Then by the young and evil favoured Pilgrim, and the succour they gave to each of the wounded knights: is signified both vice and virtue, the one evermore accompanying the good, and the other the wicked. They that are guided by virtue, some matter of worth continually ensues them: and they on the contrary that follow vice, fall from evil to worse, and to utter perdition in the end.  
NOw began it to were dark, and the heavens being covered with obscure clouds, declared to humane creatures, that the hour of their rest drew near: when the great king of Persia, having long sought the proud and goodly horse Lycocephall, and perceiving that he could not find him, determined to pass that night under a Tree in the Forest, for he was so tired and wearied with going on foot, that he could hold out no longer.  
Being thus armed as he was, and couched on the green grass, he had not line there any long while, but he heard a feeble voice, which he gathered to be the voice of a woman, lamenting very grievously, using these or the like kind of speeches. Alas most miserable that I am, in what place or part of this dark vast Forest may I meet with him, whose absence brings to my desires more obscure griefs and anguishes: then this black comfortless night, or this place so hideove presents to mine eyes. Alas thou hardy and valiant knight, the most fair and agreeable to my heart that the earth bears: in what nook art thou hidden that I should not see thee? I have the eyes of my remembrance so open, as all the obscurity of this night cannot hinder me, but that I could and can behold thy image and resemblance before me: but to touch and hold thee according as I wish, my misfortune and thy cruelty doth forbid me. Ay me, if heretofore when thou soughtest for me, I was any thing offensive to thee: pardon me I entreat thee. Pardon me (O Love) thou mighty God of heaven, if in thus doing I have offended thy majesty, that now I should be worthy of so severe punishment. Tell me fair horse, tell me I pray thee, where hast thou left thy noble master? I am deceived if thou be not the beast he so highly esteemeth, and on whom he was mounted the last time I saw him. How happens it that thou art thus strayed from him? and what is the cause thou hast forsaken him? But foolish that I am, speak I not to a beast, which hath no more ability to answer me then he who is not present whom I so dearly love? O unkind, perverse, and detestable fortune. O unhappy Lucinda, what deity hath conjured against thee, to make thee so miserable: as he that loved thee when thou didst disdain him, should now hate when thou feelest & esteemest more of him then thine own self, thine eyes, or thy heart? Ah Lucinda, mischance follow thee Lucinda, a Princess most unlucky and unfortunate, thy mishap may well befall thy friend, because he flies from thee now when thou seekest him. These lamentations in such sort pronounced, as if they had been uttered out of the hollow of a Rock: or the strokes upon an anvil: that even as the fire softeneth wax, so must it have been some Hyrcanian Tigar, or some unnatural devouring Lioness, but would therewith be moved to pity. But the Sophy, who was so proud and arrogant as possible might be, was not any thing moved at all: but having by the clear light of his Helmet discovered a young beautiful damosel, that held the goodly horse by the bridle, went presently to her, and giving her a rude thrust, took away the horse from her: whereon being quickly monnted, he road to seek his Squire, and the way which guided him the day before. And riding part of the night by his lightsome Helmet, by this rough encounter and unmanly injury, the damosel remained greatly astonished: yet recovering courage and spirit, she followed him, and a hundred times she called him thief, robber, and discourteous knight, unworthy to ride on such a horse, or ever thenceforth to wear armour on his body. And having breathed forth a thousand such like hateful speeches against him. Canst thou (quoth she) inhuman as thou art, thus undeservedly wrong me? thou mayst live to see the day, that thy Lady shall despise thy tears and entreats, as now thou disdainest and makest small account of mine: and let a more cruel shaft, than ever Cupid bore in his Quiver, wound thee thoroughly, to bring thee into the midst of most violent flames, and then utterly to consume thee to cinders. But of all these speeches the Sophy made no reckoning, but held on his way, as I told ●ee before, where we will leave him, and the disconsolate Lady in the Forest: whose mishap may well serve as an example to young damosels, that being sometime beloved with true and sincere affection, hold such kindness in contempt, and oftentimes make scorn of men of great valour, who merit better favours than hatred and disdain: which in the end they know so well how to revenge, as they shall repent and bemove their estates more miserably, then did this Princess, of whom we have made mention in the former Book, and whom ye now behold confounded with folly, discheneled running about the fields, having forsaken the king of high Misia her father, to meet the strong and puissant Giant Squamell: who thus badly recompensed the services she did him, by manifold hazards wherein she adventured her life, only for his love. Let Ladies then be careful, lest they fall into any such inconvenience, and so making like proof, there ensue like punishment: for they are better taught, that learn to be wise by others harms, than they that fetch wisdom out of their own follies. So coming again to our history, we will speak of the two knights, whom we left half wounded to death in the Forest.  
The History speaking of them, saith, that they both revived from their trance, the one so soon as the other, and that the Giant was he who first espied the Sophy to be gone, having carried away the horse with him: wherefore all wounded as he was, he ran presently (as he had been mad) into the Forest, wherein when he was but a little entered, he met the old pilgrim we spoke of before, who ran thither to hide himself, when he heard the noise of the combat between the Giant and the Knight. This was an old Necromancer, that could foretell to passengers their good and evil fortune to come, and knew by the lineature of their hands, till what age they should live, and what day, what hour, by what adventure, and how they should die. He knew by heart all the books of the Sibelles, of Circe's, of Medea, of all the old living Magicians, and the Magicians of former times. And because he knew that the Fairy Ozyris was his adversaire, and the greatest enemy in the world to his charms and enchantments, likewise that she had greater skill and knowledge than he, and specially that for his ruin, and such as he loved, she had nourished the only knight the cause of our history: he had opposed by an anticharme this strong Giant Squamell and his brother, who by their own nature were endued with most high prowess: yet notwithstanding by devilish subtlety he preserved them still from death, and to them oft times he gave admirable and supernatural strength. So that knowing him to be in quest of his horse, his shield, and other adventures, and chiefly, that he earnestly desired to have the enchanted Cup, whereof he sometime had heard great report: he had put them all into the custody of this strong Giant, having withal incited and persuaded him in a dream, that he should combat against the most puissant knight on the earth, and so set down (as prizes for the conqueror) the shield, the horse, and the Cup, whereof we have spoken. Hereupon he should hold open joust to all comers and goers in the Forest, causing the Forest to be commonly called The Forest of great Adventures: and already had he performed many fair exploits, by means whereof he was much renowned thorough the world, and very far were his deeds talked of: whereupon the knight (so hardly handled) came to combat with him, of whom hereafter we will speak more liberally, as also by what adventure, and for what reason he was thither conducted.  
But now let us a little while speak of the Giant, who seeing the old man, of whom he had no more knowledge then if he had never seen him: because he could disguise himself in divers sorts, as now he did in the habit of a pilgrim, to deceive such great numbers as passed that way, and as he had deceived Pharisor, if the meeting of the Sophy had not prevented it. The Giant at the first sight of him began to be somewhat afraid, seeing him look so ugly and hideous: but the old Enchanter that very well knew him, began to reason after this manner.  
Most generous and puissant knight, as this day liveth not thy like under heaven, who now being mortally wounded dost traverse this dark forest of high adventures: stay thyself, and forbear (if thou be wise) to run thus as thou dost, to find and recover what the destinies will not permit thee as yet. And if thou art not enemy to thyself, but hast regard of thine own life, hear and credit my council, and do as I shall presently direct thee: concerning what I say unto thee, who I am, and for what cause I am so careful of thee, the effect shall acquaint thee withal. Know then that I am the old and ancient Necromancian Charonifer, father to great Minofoll, of whom (it may be) thou hast sometime heard some speech: such as thou now seest mee, have I lived and reigned more than a thousand years. It is in my power to make the black night a fair and bright day, and the fairest day again to make the most darksome night. I can make the Moon and all the stars to descend from heaven down to the earth, by my charms and enchantments: but a woman of great wisdom oftentimes hinders me from doing what I would. Iknew thy grandfathers, who were great kings and monarchs on the earth. I have seen to my joy, the mighty Horfella thy mother, who (in her life time) was very dear to me, and whom I loved as mine own life: for of thy forefathers and great uncles did I receive my first nouriture, and was brought up from my very youngest years: in recompense whereof, I have evermore cherished and loved such as were descended of them, especially thee and thy brother Nabot, whom I esteem as much as thee, you twain being the most hardy and valiant of all your lineage and race. So that for your advancement, I have daily preserved ye from infinite perils and immortal dangers, whereinto (according to your destinies) you were ready to fall: but by mine art I have prevented all inconveniences, which I perceived were threatened against ye. And namely, let me remember thee of the devilish spirits that were in the Castle of the Enchanteresse Melanda, which could not be chased thence but by one of the best knights in the world: likewise the Combat thou hadst with them, by commandment of the Lady whom thou servest: then mayst thou likewise be mindful, of the great sorrow and vexation thou wert to endure, before thou couldst vanquish them, and from which (for ●ertaine) thou couldst not have escaped without death, but only by mine art and by my means, which succoured and defended thee: for there did I so handle the matter, that in the end thou didst obtain the victory, as thyself dost very well know: and now again thou art in far greater danger of death, if thou dost not as I shall say unto thee.  
Go then and follow the path which now thou treadest, thorough the forest, until that having many times turned by my circle, made in manner and form of a Labyrinth, thou perceivest thyself to be in the midst thereof, where thou shalt see a great Tree, strait as any Cedar, which never had branches, leaves, nor fruit, since first it sprang from out the earth. In that tree thou shalt behold a door open, which notwithstanding is now so fast shut, as no one can discern that ever it hath been opened, neither shall such as come near it, see it, except it please me: those only whom I will, shall perceive it, but others that by chance light upon it, shall imagine it to be a huge great Rock, wherein is a strong Cave, full of Lions, Tigers, Bears, and other savage and cruel beasts. But see that boldly thou enter thereinto, and descend low under the earth by certain stairs, which thou shalt find made expressly for this cause: and when thou art descended an indifferent way, thou shalt find a flood, the water whereof runneth so violently, as the flood is very fearful to behold. Upon this water thou shalt see a black Bark, furnished with oars and sails, necessary for conveyance to the place where I make my continual abiding. Enter boldly into the vessel, enter as thou art, without dread of any thing, and couching thyself therein, keeping thyself always beneath, and thy mouth fast closed, remove not at all: for from thence upon the flood (which continually runneth downwards) shalt thou be brought to a place, where thou shalt receive help for thy mortal wounds, for in very deed thou art somewhat dangerously wounded. Afterward thou shalt be advertised what is expedient for thee to do, to merit glory and reputation among the Gods, that make their abode in the inferior part of the world: and if thou dost other wise then as I have told thee, thou canst not any way escape the death.  
If the Giant were amazed at the first beholding of this old man, no doubt he was much more now, hearing his words, and yet was it more marvelous than all the rest, that when he had concluded his speech, there appeared in his place a flame of fire, which being converted into smoke, was carried here and there thorough the air, without appearance left of any other thing, which caused the Giant to stand along while pensive, without adventuring on any resolution an indifferent space: but after he had considered with himself the words of the old Magician, he gave credit to them, and determined to do as he had willed him, by reason that the loss of his blood from forth his wounds, made him feel his strength to diminish very much, and a very great weakness conquer all his body. In this determination he put himself upon the way, to find the Tree whereof the old man had told him: in which search we will leave him, to speak of the other knight so cruelly wounded. He (as writes the Historian) being come to himself again so soon as the Giant, could not yet arise so readily, for he was of a more weak and soft complexion. Which Pharisor (who had béene an eye witness of their encountering) beholding, went to him, and having unlaced his Helmet, saw that his visage, which naturally was fair: was now so spent and discoulloured, as one could perceive nothing of his wunted perfection. hereat he began to grieve, for he was of good nature, very pitiful and succourable to the afflicted, and seeing the knight complained very much of his wounds, which made him now feel a dangerous and mortal anguish: he began to comfort him so well as possibly he could. And seeing that still his blood wasted in great abundance, he despoiled himself of his shirt, which was so whit● as heart could wish: and having torn it in p●eces, there with he bond up his wounds very handsomely. When the knight feeling more ease than he did before, and that his vigour in better sort increased: he entreated to be mounted upon his horse, which he did by the help of Pharisor, who leading the horse by the bridle, guided him by sundry paths thorough the Forest, seeking where he might find any village or house, or any one that knew how to cure the knight's wounds: with kind comfort and other friendly speeches, he thus conducted him along the forest, when the night being spent at their entrance thereout, they came to a very great champion plain: when the avaunt courrer or messenger of the day, began to s●ew his Crystalline beautie● thorough his silver locks, whence soon after followed the bright splendour of the golden Sun. Then can they discern a far of in this desert, a smoke that seemed to come from the Chimney of some house: which made the fair pilgrim to guide the horse that way. But he had not gone much ground, till he saw the Knight give a sign of falling from his horse, for he was suddenly surprised with the trembling fit of an extreme ag●●, caused thorough the deadly pain of his wounds: which being unbound for ease, let the blood again issue forth, as thorough pipes or gutte●s. This was no little grief to the pilgrim, who took him from his horse in his arms, when setting him to the ground, the knight began to swoon again: wherewith Pharisor was so troubled, as fearing he was near his death, he laid him along on the the grass, and bound again his wide gaping wounds. Then taking him in his arms, he got up on the Knight's horse, and so carried him before him overthwart the saddle: and having long ridden that way as he beheld the smoke, there ensued as you shall hear in the following chapter.   

Chap. 5.  
How the wounded Knight, which the fair Pilgrim conducted, was brought into the lodging of a good and holy Hermit, where his wounds were healed, by the prayers which the good Hermit made to God. The great miracle that happened, likewise how the Knight was baptised and made a Christian. Whereby is signified unto us, how God disperseth the effects of his almighty power to such as serve him: who are oftentimes found rather in poor and simple Cottages, and in desert places, then in the golden Palaces or wealthy Cities. Likewise is in this Chapter remembered: that the aid and secure of the meanest, may serve and profit the greatest personages.  
PHarisor the fair Pilgrim, so long, and by so many sundry paths in the desert, conducted (in sort as ye have read in the former Chapter) the half dead body of the hardy and virtuous knight: that about the hour of midday he discovered the place, whence he saw the smoke to ascend forth. Thither hasted he with all the speed he could use, hoping in that place to meet with some one that could give remedy to the knights wounds: for very great care he had of him, because of the bounty and valour he had discerned in him. But drawing nearer to this long expected place, he thought his hope would be deceived, by reason he saw it to be but a little lodging, covered with Reeds and Rushes, in which he could not be persuaded to find what he would. This made him half minded to change his way to some other part, yet something still hovered about his heart, that he should venture to continue on his way, and see what might be done in this little ●lender habitation, builded in a desert so barren, for some unlooked for body might (perhaps) abide there. Resolving thus, he descended from the horse, and brought the knight's body before the door of the house, which having thrust open, he saw an old man, with his head and beard as white as snow, sitting before a little pan of fire, chafing his bloodless and withered veins, and reading in a book which he held upon his knee. The good old man was somewhat astonished when he saw the pilgrim, but much more when he beheld the Knights half dead body before his door. In like case was Pharisor, seeing the old man's head and beard so venerable, with an aspect of holiness much to be admired: so that albeit he was an assured hardy knight, yet was he surprised in such sort, as he durst not open his mouth to speak unto him, but with more great honour and reverence, yea, with more regard, then if he had spoken to the greatest Monarch on the earth. Beside, the historian (speaking hereof) saith, that he set his knee on the threshold of the old man's door, and spoke unto him in this manner.  
Father, for that thy white head and beard, with the venerable aspect of thy countenance, makes me conceive that thou hast experience in many affairs, and that in thee abideth more good then in other men, by reason of the holiness of life which thou leadest in this desert, far from all evil company or conversation of the wicked, who oftentimes (by their frequenting) induce the good to do ill, whereby they incur the wrath of God and his indignation: where contrariwise, he regardeth with a cheerful eye such as do well, and (as thou) having repent their sins, despise the manner of dissolute life, full of voluptuous and carnal concupiscence: lead a life austere and full of solitude, to temper and appease (by these means) the violence of inordinate appetites and evil desires, whereby they are naturally incited, and provoked to do badly, inclining rather to vice then to virtue. If thou have any humanity, and art not altogether naked of sweet amity, whereby humane society is preserved: I desire thee in the name of God, to have pity and compassion on the miserable estate of one of the most valiant and brave Knights, that the Sun ever vouchsafed to look upon, whom thou beholdest cruelly wounded, and ready to die here before thy door. Father, do thy best endeavour to cure his wounds, wherewith thou seest he is unnaturally injured: and if the heavens have not so favoured thee, that by humane cunning thou canst give remedy: or if thou perceivest them to be incurable, and that he must needs presently die: yet to the end the soul may not perish together with the body, let him receive by thy hands the holy Sacrament of Baptism, by the mean whereof, and the grace of God assisting, men are washed and made clean from original sin. For he hath told me, that by nation he is a pagan, contrary to the belief that Christians do profess: do thou then thy duty, and God shall yield thee thy recompense in heaven. If my words may not incite thee to this christian work: yet let the hardness of the piteous estate wherein thou beholdest him, at the least move thee to humane compassion. Thus spoke the fair pilgrim, whereto the good old man thus answered.  
He to whom all that live and die do service and obeisance, the great Father of the world, he that created it, and all things that inhabit therein, commandeth me (pilgrim) to do what thou requirest: for it is his will that we do good one to another, and likewise that we should render good for evil, as well to our enemies as to our friends. And although the contrariety of his religion from ours, might somewhat withhold me from accomplishing thy desire: yet will I use my very uttermost endeavour for thy sake, whom I know to be a Christian, because I am commanded from above to do so. Not that I have any skill in the art of medicine or chirurgery, for I understand nothing tending thereto, much less knowledge have I in the nature or virtue of herbs: but I help and give remedy to the body by such means as thou shalt perceive: bring him then into my lodging, and bow thy knees in prayer to God, as thou beholdest me to make my orisons. Pharisor obeyed the Hermit's commandment, brought in the body of the Knight, which could not move or stir more than a dead man: the old man kneeling down by him, opening his eyes and lifting up his hands, having three times made the sign of the Cross upon the body, and softly uttered certain private suffrages and Orisons, the pilgime being likewise on his knees: with an high voice, and a heart full of devotion, he said a prayer of this substance or effect.  

The Hermit's prayer.  
O Mighty Son of God, Saviour and redeemer of the world, whom God thy Father vouchsafed to leave the essence of thy divinity, and to forsake thy supreme throne, to come here on earth, taking the habit of our humanity, and following the same, tookest humane flesh and birth, in the womb of a virgin of long time chosen and elected by thee, pure, white, and immaculate, of the race and lineage of jesse: to abide and endure with us the self-same troubles and adversities, which our miserable life is subject unto: thou God almighty, all good, and which evermore hast thy ●eat full of mercy and love, wide open to rereive the prayers and requests, which we make to thee in our necessities, and art always ready to do us good, receive us evermore in thy mercy. O God of peace and concord, who being divine, immortal and most mighty, hast power to quench the thirst of the thir●●ie, the hunger of the famished, to cloth the naked, heal all maladies, and comfort the afflicted. Thou (I say) who hast not only taken humane flesh for life, subject to endure many evils and afflictions amongst men: but also didst bear upon thy divine forehead, the cruel sweat of death, and endure the severe passion thereof, to save us from eternal death, whereto for our sins we were condemned. Thou (O God) who only hast power with one word, or with one wink of thine eye, to arrest the strong horrible tempests of the winds, that canst trouble the earth, that roullest and calmest the waters in the Seas, and ride on the heavens when thou pleasest, or slackest as thou likest the celestial fiery lights. Thou that long since having taken humanity amongst us, being in Samaria, hadst power to give health to ten poor lepers, they believing in thee, prayed and were healed. Then a poor man troubled with the pal●●e, and one that was sick of the dropsy by thee were likewise cured, they being one day of the Sabaoth presented before thee: by the self-same power and goodness, a poor crooked woman, that could not help herself, and she that for the space of twelve years was sick with a flux of blood: were by thee recovered to their former estate and health. The centurions servant, that altogether grounded his hope in thee. another Leper, and one that had his hand dried up, with the poor widow lamenting for the approaching death of her Son. And jairus, whose daughter was even ready to die: they all having recourse to thee, & calling for thy aid with a cheerful heart, & firm belief of thy omnipotent power: were all by thy goodness made sound & comforted: seeing then that thy power is always one, & asgreat at this present as it then was, and so shallbe for ever, that thou art full of the self same mercy and goodness: I beseech thee, if ever I have said any thing that hath pleased thee, if ever I have done any thing agreeable to thy liking, if ever I requested any thing, if ever thou tookest pleasure in this austere kind of life, which here I lead in this desert, by the entire affection I have toward thee, and the burning desire in me to serve and honour thee: I beseech thee O good God, that thou wouldst deign in pity to regard this miserable corpse. And if thou seest, (as for certain thou seest and knowest all things) that thou canst draw any service to thee from out of it, by suffering it to live longer time in this world, thy mighty hand being now upon the man, and the healing of his mortal wounds so near death's door: give him thy grace, that he may see and acknowledge for truth, that it is by thy grace, and from thy hand, that he receiveth all things he hath in this world. If not (Lord,) but that thou wilt call him to thee, and that his hour is come: receive and conduct his soul I beseech thee, into thy celestial paradise, where (for the rest) give him what thou better knowest then I, is necessary for him.   
Thus prayed the good Hermit, and at the same instant baptised him, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy ghost: saying and doing all that is requisite in the holy Sacrament of Baptism, in the presence of Pharisor, who served as his Deacon. Then suddenly descended from heaven upon the Hermit's lodge, such a clear brightness, more golden than the Sun: that the Hermit and the Pilgrim had their eyes so dazzled therewith, as they were constrained to lie flat with their faces on the earth, as if they would have kissed it. And more astoned were they, than if it had mightily thundered, because they heard a voice from heaven, uttering these words: Be whole brave knight, to the end thou mayst die for maintenance of the Christian faith, whereinto already thou art received.  
Then suddenly the bright splendour vanished away, when the Hermit and Phariso● arose, and the Knight so soon as they, as sound, lusty and pleasant, as if his body never had been wounded. Notwithstanding, he greatly marveled to see himself in such a place, between two men whom he knew not: he being of the opinion, that he had been but in a sleep, and all the pain he had felt of his wounds, was no more than a dream. Yet he remembered all that was passed before, since, and at that instant, especially pharisor's request to the Hermit, and the prayer the Hermit made to God for him, also the bright clearness that appeared, the baptism he had received, with the voice from heaven, which he well understood: whereat being not a little abashed, he was strongly confirmed in the christian religion, for which ever after he determined to employ all his forces till death, contrary to the promise he made, when he departed from the kingdom of Phez. Then being well remembered and certain of all these things, which he had seen and understood, he humbly thanked the holy man: who told him, that to God only he should return thanks, for his health came from him, and no other. As for him, he but prayed, and afterward made a brief S●rmon, wherein he examplified & declared the points of christian religion, wherein the king of Phez took singular pleasure. This done, the good man and Pharisor desiring him to tell them, of whence and what he was, and wherefore he fought so manfully against him that had so cruelly wounded him: he began to recount unto them all his adventures, in manner as you shall read hereafter.   

Chap. 6.  
The high deeds of arms and chivalry, done by the Knight Gerileon, how having taken landing in a desert place, he travailed long time on foot, before he could any where rest himself. The pleasant talk and devise his Squire Geliaste had with him in walking, to give him pleasure and pass away the time. In which may be discerned, how much such aught to suffer as travail to gain honour. And by the speeches of the squire Geliaste, how ridiculous the reasonings of the Sophists are, who by outward appearance resemble sound men, and such as by their faces are supposed of good health: yet inwardly are attainted with mortal diseases. Because (at first sight) their arguments seem to be matter of truth: but being sounded to the bottom, they are found to be nothing else but follies, mockeries and mere dreams.  
IT is now high time, that we should remember the fortunes and adventures, of the famous and virtuous knight Gerileon, because of him our history bears title, and for his sake we have composed in this second Book, following the former order you read before: the adventures of the loyal lover, of the Sophy of Persia, and the puissant Squa●ell▪ By discontinuing a little in speech of them, with repetition of them hereafter in time and place convenient: we shall give ye to understand, that this whole discourse is builded to no other end, then for him, and to his everlasting commendation. To this end, that the diversity of these things, which are most agreeable to the greater part of readers, may bring ye the more pleasure and recreation. To come then again where we left: ye must conceive, that after he had long time sailed on the sea, with the favour and fortune of the winds that then governed, when he had conquered the ships of the Giant Squamell, with them that were his Pirates and thieves, that spoiled Merchants of their goods and treasure, where he heard tidings of his horse & arms, which he had stolen: he was in the end (by violence of a sudden tempest) cast upon Armenia, in a place far of from the Forest of great adventures, and which was as barren and desolate, as that which before we deciphered unto ye, where by the prayer of the holy Hermit, the king of Phez recovered his wounds. Being arrived in a port of ●lender assurance for the safety of ships, he minded to go on land a while: till the tempest (which raged so extremely, and made the Seas unfit for passengers) were ceased, not for any longer abiding there.  
hereupon, he commanded the master of the Ship to launch out a Squiffe, whereinto he entered with his armour and his Squire: desiring the Knight, whom he had saved from shipwreck on the Sea, as ye have heard, which was he for whose meeting he enterprised this voyage, to tarry in the Ship for the safety thereof, and to hinder that the Pirate which brought them against the adventures and forces of Nabot and Squamell, should do them no more injury, or fly away with the Ship which he had gotten from him, and so thereby drive his journey to a further delay or linger. The knight, who had learned all his designs, the occasion of his search, and other adventures, promised to fulfil his request: so under this promise going on shore, he was somewhat abashed, to see a place so great and spacious, to be so desert, barren, and comfortless, for he could not discern one Tree, where under he might take a little repose: which he not a little desired, because he was crazy and over much wearied, with his long continuance in the Ship on the Seas, whereto he was not accustomed, and in sooth it cannot but be irksome and tedious, to such as are not acquainted with that kind of travail. So finding a little path on the port where he landed, he kept on his way, to see if wandering further from the Sea, which was inhabitable by the sterility of the place: he could find any bush or shadowed plot, where he might rest awhile and take the fresh air. For the country of itself was naturally inflamed with extreme heat, and the shade of the ship which he had so lately left, was likewise hot and troublesome to him. But when he had gone about the space of a mile, he found himself so overcharged with his armour, which till then he always had worn upon his body: as he was constrained thorough the extreme weight be felt thereof, to disarm himself, having desire to walk longer time, and more at his ease, until he could see some place convenient for him to rest in. And as Geliaste his Squire was beginning to take off his armour, perceiving that he must bear this heavy burden on foot, he thus spoke to his master.  
In soothe my Lord, this Armour doth so well become ye, as no heat (me thinks) should cause ye to disarm yourself: for in mine eye, seeing you armed by me, I see Saint Michael the fair Acchangell, leading me with such security into paradise: as all the devils in hell cannot get me into their hands: you are so proper and of so goodly appearance, when you are armed, as ye cannot meet any Lady upon the way, but presently she will become enamoured of ye. And it is no small thing, to gain the love of fair Ladies that may be met withal: for such a one she may be, as is not to be refused. To others likewise you seem so redoubted, as there is not a beast in all the world, but beholding you approaching, will 〈◊〉 far enough from ye. Whereas if ye unarm yourself: I am afraid I shall be driven to try the goodness of my legs, which were my great sorrow if any thing should so happen. It seemeth when you are armed, that you were brought into this world, and formed an excellent m●uld for an armour, or that you were borne armed, and made expressly to bear this ornament. If God had been so gracious to me, as to have made me of such perfection and property, as that I had been borne to wear armour: I would never make myself naked thereof for any other clothing, notwithstanding the greatest heat that might be, but he hath not made me apt to bear such honour, or any way to defend it. If I carry it in mine arms, and any one meet me therewith, he will say: that I am some juggler, so decked to make the world laughter and pastime. And therefore (my Lord) I beseech ye credit my council, to suffer your Armour still on your body as it is: for what know ye may suddenly happen, and what but your armour can do ye service. As for me, these arms will not serve me to do any thing therewith: because I know, as I have been a little instructed, that from my birth I should be but faint hearted and a coward. Whereto the knight, who knew well his squire spoke these words but to make him merry and pleasant: smile to himself, thus answered.  
My friend, I pray thee carry no such dismay in thy mind, as to vaunt whether I am armed or unarmed: for I rather doubt this will make thee become over courageous, whereby I may be held suspected, that I have not instructed thee as I ought to do, but rather have kept thee fasting worse than in the time of Lent. Therefore only do as I command thee, carry mine armour: and thou shalt see, we shallbe as merry afterward, as now, and that no furious beast dare venture to make thee try thy legs.  
My Lord (quoth Geliaste) I am most constant in obeying your command, yet do I esteem it a much better advice, that I should wear your armour on my body, for the more easy carriage: and that you should come after me, and call me my Lord, and I to call you my squire Geliaste, yea, it is necessary you should do whatsoever I command ye. For when you are armed, and I not, I come after ye, I call ye my Lord, and you call me Geliaste, and which is more, I obey and do all that ever ye bid me. And questionless, reason requireth this which I say, because there is no other difference between us: for we are both men, and as you have been armed, so am I now at this present, done by your help and assistance: it followeth then, that you do me the self same honour, and much more than I can do to you, when you are as I am n●w. For it is but arms and gay garments that honours the person, and you will not deny, but that you are honoured by your arms. See I pray ye if the strong Nabot, if his brother Squamell, if the Sons of the old Grandowin, if the puissant king of Phez and his brethren, if the great king of Persia, if the brave king Floridamant, of whom is made such rumour and renown thorough the world. If the monstrous king of Scythia, or any of so many other worthy personages, that gained praise and reputation by arms: had ever w●n such honour and account, if they had not been always armed: yourself, had you ever vanquished the strong Giants, which I feared would have eaten me, Ferclast and his brethren: if these weapons had not been in your hands, and this armour on your body? Truly, without these arms you had been but in bad case: and thereof ought honour be done to arms, and to such likewise as bear them. Certainly (quoth the knight) Geliaste my good friend, there is too much sophistry and deep sense in thine argument, to persuade that which thou proposest. How? sophistry my Lord? said the Squire: nay rather reason enough, when I receive no sufficient contrary answer. For there is no other difference between us, b●t that you are oftentimes armed when I am not, and then I honour ye, when ye make no account of me, but in doing ye service. It than ensueth by like reason, that when I am armed and you not: you should do such duty to me as I have said: In other things we are equal and alike, as by reason I will prove unto ye, which (as ye know) should always be held of greatest truth. For when you laugh, I laugh likewise: when you weep, I weep also: when you go, I go: when you are on horseback, I am not on foot, and when you are on foot, I am not on horseback. If you be aggrieved, so am I: if you be amorous, I am so as well as ye, when ye eat, I eat: when you drink, I am thirstle: when you sleep, I snort. What will ye that I shall say for further proof? in brief, there is no other difference between us, then as I have said. By my faith (said the knight (who took great pleasure in hearing him thus prate like a Parrot,) Thou sayst true Geliaste: but tell me I pray thee, how canst thou save thyself from this answer, and not confess thyself to be v●●quished?  
Thy father, thy mother, and mine: are they one self same persons? are we● two as great, the one as the other? thou well perceivest we are not, for I am far greater than thou art: we are not likewise of one teiucture, nor of hair alike. When we dine, when we eat or drink, we ●●t not both at one table, thou dinest and suppest at my dispense, or by my means, I never dine or sup at thine, nor by thy help. When I combat, thou dost not: I look the enemy in the face, and stand to him, thou turnest thy back and fliest: when I am assured, thou art fearful: and sometime when I smite, thou bearest away the blows, or takest thee to thy heels, and so escapest.  
Continuing these speeches, with divers other to pass away the time, as the Knight was highly contented with this pleasant kind of arguing: they followed still the path that had conducted them from the Sea, and were come now the space of two good miles, when a far off the Knight discovered a little thicket, which was round beset with fair Bushes: this gave him some hope, that there he should find so●e Spring or Fountain, where be might quench his thirst, which pained him greatly, and shadow sufficient to take the frew air, and rest himself as he had some need. Here upon he continued his way thither ward, and being there arrived, was glad he had found the thing he desired. For this place was round environed with great goodly Trees, where under was a most pleasing shade, and in one part thereof was a most fair clear fountain, the source whereof was engirt with a dainty sweet spring, the greatness whereof contained three acres of ground. The grass was there so green and cheerful as possible might be, and chiefly there, more than in any other part adjoining: whereat the Knight greatly marveled, and without care of seeking after any other particular occasion, but contenting himself with the natural fertility of the place, proceeding from the river the only cause thereof: he went about to behold, and mounting on a higher part of the ground, to rest himself under a cool shadow, he fell a sleep, and so did Geliaste likewise, where (for necessity sake) we will give them leave to rest a while.   

Chap. 7.  
How Gerileon being at rest, and sleeping in the wood near the fountain, which he had so fortunately found: was awaked by his squire, to hear the pleasing lamentable voice of a Lady, that did sing there hard by, which having understood, he entreated the Lady to sing the same Song again. The talks which the Lady had with him, during which time, there came upon them an horrible cruel monster, called the savage Polippe, wherewith Gerileon began a fierce and dangerous fight. From whence may be gathered, that there where man doth purpose to be safe and at quiet, sleeping long time in delight and voluptuousness: there sin (which is a savage monster, and which changeth and enchaunteth itself into divers form, yet all most dangerous) cometh and assaileth him so fiercely, as he hath work enough to defend himself. But if he can overcome him, then is he greatly to be commended, and merits wonderful renown and reputation.  
THe good and virtuous knight Gerileon remained a sleep, according as you heard in the end of the former chapter, about the space of two hours: but Geliaste could not sleep so long, because in his slumber he dreamt that he heard a sweet harmony, wherein his thoughts took very great pleasure. So that when he awaked, he plainly heard what he dreamt on, no imagination, but a very perfect voice singing a song. He heard a feminine voice, very sweet and melodious, which sang with pleasure to the ear, yet pitifully in regard of her cause, a song in the Spanish language, the substance whereof hereafter followeth. Nor was there any humane heart that heard it: but as it would have been highly pleased, so could it not choose but compassion would have moved it. The Song was thus.  

The ladies Song while Gerileon slept.  
Blind, cruel boweman love,  
that with envenomed dart:  
Outrageously enflamest my breast,  
and murder'st my poor heart.  
Alas, what wouldst thou more?  
thou makest me lingering stay:  
And wilt not send Phinander home,  
whom all my thoughts obey.  
The promised day is come,  
when fair Ozyris said:  
My long distress should have an end  
and all my griefs allayed.  
Yet am I still detained,  
within this cruel prison:  
Of fierce inhuman Polyppe,  
who keeps ●e 'gainst all reason.   
Already six times together had the voice sung this song, ere the Squire would arise to awake his master, who as yet had heard nothing: but the seventh time, as the song was half finished, or at this place where we have paused, he well understanding both the words and sense: arose, and awaked the knight that slept, saying. My Lord, I pray ye take your armour, for I imagine you shall find some adventure here, that will incite ye to the combat. As for me, I shall not, because I have bound your armour so long, as I am wearied therewith. I pray ye this once stand in my defence, and fight for me and in my place: because I find myself so spent with choler, by reason of the grief I conceive at the ladies song which ye hear, that if I should lay hand to my weapon in this rage and agony: I am afraid I should kill myself, which I should be very sorry to do, not so much for the love of myself, but because if such inconvenience should happen: you should be left all alone, and so have no body to carry your armour. Well Geliaste (quoth Gerileon) thou hast reason to be so careful of me, and I take it in very good part: but what Song is that thou tellest me of? and wherefore hast thou awaked me? Listen a little my Lord, quoth the Squire, and you shall hear what it is. Then the Knight heard the same voice which his Squire had done, continuing the Song in this manner.  

But causeless blame I thee,  
fair love that stayest my bliss:  
Because Phynander feels like fire,  
as in my bosom is.  
But cruel, unkind fate,  
that holds me servile so:  
Infortunate Orphyza, when  
will time abridge thy woe?  
Seven years adventures spent,  
as bird and beast from me:  
Is it not time then now at length,  
my brave knight I should see?  
The hardy Champion for my sake,  
in dream I did discern:  
Fight in fire with Polyppe,  
my liberty to yearn.   
The knight hearing in a place so far from the company of men, and withal 〈◊〉 desert and barren, a humane voice singing with such sweetness and melody, as the best singing birds might ●ease their notes to listen, and the harp of Orpheus had been but rude to the ears of such, as first had heard the heavenly harmony of this song, was no less droven into admiration, then overcome with pleasure in the hearing. But when the squire told him, that in the beginning of the song mention was made of the nymph Oziris, he was suddenly provoked with an extreme desire, to know on what occasion the Lady song, and who conducted her into that place. So putting on his armour, except his helmet, which he left as yet in the hand of the squire, traversing among the highest trees, he went strait to the place, where he heard the voice, and there he found a great deep dungeon, which was round about environed with trees, whereunder he had before seated himself, there he beh●ld a huge hole into the earth, the mouth whereof descended down into the dungeon, where he saw a Lady that sometime had been of exquisite beauty, as yet the feature of her countenance discovered: but the long languishing solitude, which as it seemed, she had no little while endured, had so extenuated and chafed away her perfection, as she seemed nothing in beauty to her former estate, Besides, her garments, that whilom gave her some form, being now old, rent, & ●●rne, made her seem less beautiful than indeed she was, notwithstanding men of judgement may easily conceive, that were she reduced to her wont plight, she would appear more excellent than ever she did. The knight beholding her, began to reason and talk with her, as thus. Fair Lady, (quoth he) I wish that once more for my sake you would sing the song, which not long since ye did, for you have a voice so sweet and agreeable, that in hearing ye, I conceined exceeding great pleasure. Or if you think me not of such desert, yet at the least do me the favour to sing it again, for the love of Phynander, him whom you have so great desire to see. The Lady was somewhat abashed when she heard the knight speak, especially when she beheld his wonderful beauty: then came to her memory, that this was he she had so many times seen in her sleep, combating against the cruel savage Polyppe, and of whom she had heard the fair Ozyris speak: whereupon she changed suddenly into a vermilion colour, like a fragrant gilleflour, when with a trembling voice she thus answered the knight.  
If thou art not he that must be the cause of my deliverance. I pray thee friendly knight, for the youth and beauty which I behold in thee, and whereof I have very great compassion, stay not here to listen my singing. For it may so fall out, that if once more thou givest ear to my song, thou wilt receive more displeasure, than therein thou tookest delight and contentment. But without further expense of time in questioning wherefore, I pray thee (whilst it is yet permitted thee) to be gone speedily, and with the greatest diligence thou canst possibly use, out of this place, assuring thyself, that I would not refuse to grant thy request, as well 〈◊〉 the virtue as the beauty which I conceive to be in thee, 〈◊〉 also for the love of him in whose name thou dost require the same. For thou must know for certain, that if while I sing, the savage Polyppe arrive here, he will kill thee though thou hadst an hundred lives. Therefore I counsel thee as thou lovest thy life, to get thee gone from hence as soon as thou canst.  
I never feared (quoth the knight) the thing I never saw, nor whereof I ever heard any speech, therefore you labour in vain in persuading me to flight, I rather imagine that you use these words, to excuse yourself in the request I made unto you.  
The Lady would have spoken something more to him, but suddenly came a swift foul whistling with her wings, and flying hard by where the knight stood, parched herself in one of the highest trees about the dungeon. At the hearing whereof the Lady was so overcome with passion and fear, that her tongue stood as fast bound in her mouth, in such sort, that she (not having the power to speak any one word) was constrained to withdraw herself farther into the den, turning her back towards the knight. Upon this accident Gerileon heard a great and fearful voice, which without customable order, made a marvelous noise, like unto the bellowing of a Bull, when he is strayed from the troop of kine that he conducteth. Then presently among the bushes entered the cruel and fierce savage, carrying a dead beef upon his shoulder, and in one hand he held two other dead beeves, intending with this provision to make his supper. The aspect and form of him, at the first sight, made the knight somewhat dismayed, for he was covered all the body and face with long shag hair, as black as a coal, and no manner of white appeared about him but his teeth. The eyes in his head were like fire, he was of a giants stature, and right before his navel he had the head of a dragon, very hideous and ugly, with a great mouth, whereout appeared two mighty long hooked teeth, sharply pointed, and very dangerous. On his neck he bore a great staff, made in the form of a mase, wherewith he was wont to take and kill both men and beasts of all sorts. So soon as he espied the knight, he presently laid down his load, and taking his 〈◊〉 staff from his shoulder, began to lay at the knight: who seeing the unaccustomed fury of the monster, quickly caught his helmet from his squire Geliaste, which when his master had, he ran to hide himself in the hole where he had seen the Lady. The Savage leaping to the dungeon, which was as large as it was high, first smote at the knights head with the staff, from which to shield himself, he turned with such dexterity and lightness, as he was not avie ●●te hurt thereby. Which the monster perceiving, redoubled another blow on the other side so violently, as the knights shield was thereby very much bruised, and his arm● stonnied greatly with the stroke. Notwithstanding, he stood firmly against him, and entered into such collar against the monster, that his face and body became all red, and his eyes sparkled as fire, so that the savage who never before feared any man, and imagined that this was but a sign of fear in him, suddenly thought that he beheld the knights lady environed in a flame of fire, that seemed (as it were) to issue out of him.  
This happened not to him of himself, but by the succour and aid of his nurse Oziris, who made him appear in this fearful resemblance, thereby to weaken the untonquetable strength of the savage, against whom the knight so abvanced himself, with his broad brandishing sword in his hand, and reached in fury such a stroke at him, that had it met with the head of the monster, as it 〈◊〉 with his staff, which was as great as the most of a ship, he had 〈◊〉 it in two parts.  
But the vn●●nted savage, having quickly advanced his staff before, was not hurt by the stroke, only his staff was near cut in sunder, although it was very hard wood, and beset round about with knagges and knots, which lifting up again, he 〈◊〉 so rigorously upon the knights helmet, as it was broken through the midst, Gerileon likewise being so astonished, as he knew not whether it was day or night, and staggering therewith, he was ready to fall to the earth, yet he fell not, but recovering fresh courage, smote with his sword to cut off the monster's head, who espying the blow coming, ran fiercely upon him, and grasping him about the body, strove to overthrow him, or by his fast hold to strangle him. Then forcing him to the Dragon's head, which naturally was fixed right against his navel, most cruelly he bitten him by the upper part of his thighs, his armour for that part not availing him, but the two crooked teeth entered quite thorough. The knight fel●e very great pain hereby, and entered into such exceeding fury, when by strong wrestling he had gotten forth of the monsters arms and withdrawing himself three or four paces back, he smote five or six terrible blows at his body, all thick together, not one ●arrying for another. With one of them he cut off his arm, albeit it was covered with rough and hard hair, which was of great defence for his body, but that the knight's strength was marvelous and incomparable. By the other blows the savage received five great wounds, as well on his head, as on other parts of his body, which injured him more than the loss of his arm, because in stead thereof immediately sprang forth of the same place a lions claw of marvelous greatness, so that he felt no defect of the other loss: but the pain of his other wounds made him ●rie and roar so horribly, that the knight saved from shipwreck, and the mariners in the ship at the sea side, not knowing what it was trembled with fear, some of them swooning and falling into trances, especially when by this ●oise they beheld the sea moved with so great a tempest, as the cables that held the anchors were almost broken in the midst, and Gerilcon himself being amazed, yet not that he minded to give over the fight, though immediately he felt himself caught by the shoulders with the Lion's claw, so ●ately risen upon the Polyppe, as therewith he was very grievously wounded, even to the loss of very much blood. But being (by marvellous force and vinacitie) gotten once more out of the monsters hold, he doubled many strokes upon him, slicing the hair and skin away by great gobbets, notwithstanding the extreme hardness thereof. And the savage defended himself courageously, wounding and offending with his claw and teeth the virtuous nurse child of the fair Ozyris: who in this manner combated all the rest of the day, until such time as the night being come, the savage having lost great store of his blood, and with the loss thereof feeling great weakening of his forces, changed himself from his first form, into the shape of a huge marvelous roaring lion, which so soon as he had given the knight to behold, he fled into the obscure cave, where the Lady and Geliaste were hidden, whereby Gerileon remained very greatly perplexed.   

CHAP. 8.  
How Gerileon being in great trouble, & feeling mortal pain of the wounds which he had in combat against the Savage Polyppe, was succoured by the Nymph Olympia: of the talk likewise they had together. And how afterward he fought again with the same monster, he being in the shape of a Lion, and being vanquished by him the second time, was constrained to hide himself again. Whereout may be gathered, that a virtuous man feeling himself injured and wounded by sin, being in great grief and displeasure with himself, is evermore succoured by the good Angel that comforts him, so that by such good and speedy remedies, which giveth him courage to resist it manfully▪ he proceed until he have altogether vanquished and chased it away. By the diverse mutation of the monster into the form of cruel beasts, is signified nothing else but sin, what sundry shapes so ever it receiveth, yet it is always cruel, only to try the consciences of such good men as itassaileth.  
WHen Gerileon saw that the savage had changed his shape, and was departed from the combat, he knew that he should have somewhat to do to vanquish him: and withal he considered, that if he could escape this unexpected danger, he should deserve praise and reputation for ever, which was the greatest guerdon and recompense, that all his adventurous 〈◊〉 aimed at, for which he not at all dreaded the hazard of his life. There upon he determined to abide in that place, yet not in the cave or dungeon, but above under the trees, where he had rested himself the day before, attending when the Polyppe should come forth again in his new received form, to finish the combat he had begun: yet he not knowing the original or behaviour of the monster, nor for what cause he abode in that place: but in this determination he went from the cave and laid him down to rest for that night, until the clear light of a new day should show itself to the world. But it was not possible for him to take any rest having (as one saith) three tinglinges in his ear that hindered him. The principal whereof was, the continual thoughts, whereby he was ravished in contemplation of his Mistress. The second was his fear of his squire, lest he was slain or outraged by the monster: for he loved him so dearly, as he could not sleep, unless he were assured that his Squire was as well as himself, such was the care he had of him. The third, which was no less hurtful to his body, than these other twain were to his mind: was the great pain he felt in his thighs and shoulders, by the teeth and claws of the monster, by means whereof all his body became inflamed, by reason of the venom wherewith the nails and teeth of the Savage was infected. Hereby he became marvelously spent and overcharged, and even ready to fall into a mortal fever: when suddenly he being in this pain, heard the water (which as I told ye before environed the dungeon) to move with a great murmur, as if some one had bathed himself therein. Hereupon he presently lifted up himself, as it were to know the cause thereof, when he beheld come forth of the river the fair Nymph Olympia, chamber maid to the Fairy Ozyris. She having oftentimes seen him, was fresh in memory, and known immediately: when suddenly running to him, embracing him loviugly, she entered into these speeches.  
My sweet friend, within these two hours am I come hither, guided by the channels of underground, from whence these waters ascend to this place: even from the Palace of the Nymph Ozyris thy Nurse, whom I serve and reverence, she loving thee extremely, as well thou knowest. Hither am I come from her to preserve thee, and to tell thee withal, that if thou suffer me not to embalm the wounds on thy body with this precious unguent, which she expressly commanded me to bring in this golden bottle thou beholdest in my hand: thou art in very great danger of thy life, so that thou canst hardly escape the death, if thou continue in this estate but till to morrow morning. Therefore disdain not to discover where thy wounds are, that I may put in execution the command of my lady, whereto I dare in no wise be disobedient. I may not (quoth he) fair Olympia, & my friend, refuse the succour of my most dear Oziris, nor of thyself likewise, for albeit the necessity wherein I now am did not incite me to take it, yet the obeisance which I own both to the one and the other of ye, marry more great to the mistress than to the servant, commands me to obey all that you can command in a knight. So saying, he discovered his wounds to the Nymph, who applied to them the precious ointments in the golden bottle: which was no sooner spread upon them, but presently he felt no pain at all, and became immediately as whole and sound, as if he never had been wounded. Hereof was he not a little joyful, when embracing, colling and kissing the Nymph more than a thousand times, who was in part the cause of so great good to him: he often inquired of the health of her Lady, and the rest of the company, and chiefly if she had received any charge from her, to tell him what issue the combat should have which he had begun, whether he should be the conqueror, or himself he brought under and vanquished. Inquire not at all gentle knight (answered the nymph) what shall happen to thee, either in this combat, or any other enterprises, wherein thou art to hazard thy life: for it is not lawful that mortal creatures should know things to come. Only be thou of good courage, and take no grief of the multitude of travails, which thou must proceed in. Let it suffice that I say to thee in general, howbeit I need not specify so much before hand to thee: that thou art destined to undertake & finish before thou diest many haughty enterprises. And of all them to behold the end, it behoveth thee to endure much to expose thyself to a thousand thousand dangers and perilous hazards: especially before thou canst know who is thy father, or mayst behold the place of thy birth, or what thy chiefest desire is to see: as oft times I have heard the great princess of the Fairies, the high & mighty Ozyris my mistress say, to whom it is necessary that I quickly return, because she so commanded me. Therefore I say God be with thee, to whom I recommend thee, desiring him to guard and preserve thee from all mortal dangers. Having so said, she kiss the Knight, and then vanished suddenly before him, he not seeing her, till she came near the Fountain, where he beheld her plange her golden tresses into the silver waters, whereinto likewise she dived her whole body, being for this time seen no more, notwithstanding the manifold entreaties for return that the knight made: whereby he continued all the night so displeased, that he could entertain no thought of rest, but when the vermilion blush of day break began to show his red locks, and disperse his splendour over the earth: he put on his Armour again, and wen● before the Cave, to attend the Polyppes coming to the combat, whereout if he would show himself this day: yet he intended to speak with the Lady he saw the day before, to inquire of her the cause of this adventure, as also for his Squire, for whose loss (which he imagined unrecoverable) he remained full of grief and sorrow. Long had he not stayed there, before the Polyppe came forth, in the shape he had taken the night before, which was like a mighty huge Lion, fierce, ravenous, and very fearful to behold, far differing from the natural beasts of the same kind, which ordinarily are not so great, hideous, and monstrous in view: which had terrified the Knight with fear, but that he remembered the last words of the Nymph Olympia, and as they began to quicken his memory, so they made him become more hardy, fierce and terrible, than the Lion himself, who coming ●ha●ing forth of his den to run upon him, seeing him stand with such resolved hardiness: minded once to return again into his Cave. But the fire of his rage was so violent, for losing the combat the day before, as his heat could contain no government, but that in all fury he would fly upon him: and snatching at him, strove to tear away his shield that hung about his neck, and with such vigour did he catch hold thereon, as he broke the arm braces of strong brass, and the buckles of steel wherewith it was fastened, in doing whereof, he well near had overthrown him in the place: had not the worthy knight (more brave than the Lion himself) reached such a blow at his head, as but it was quickly defended, he had been cleft therewith to the shoulders. But the sturdy beast, who the day before had made proof of such like weighty strokes: let go his hold, to make a step backward from the blow. Even as a malicious enraged dog, seeing a waff●ing man with an iron piked staff, passing before a door in a village where he lay sleeping, without any noise or barking, runneth suddenly upon him, tearing with his teeth the flesh from one of his legs, wherewith the man being aggrieved, turneth the iron point of his staff to strike and kill him, which the dog fearing, giveth back and turning again upon the man, enforceth himself to run again upon him, to get a greater morsel from him: and he still standing upon his guard, threatens the iron point more dangerously to the teeth of the Mastie, who persevering still in his rage, constrains forth himself still to give him more wounds, yet being constrained to fly, no less chafed than he was at the first, returneth vanquished into his kennel: and the man over-travailed in this strife, feeling and seeing himself wounded and bleeding, to rest himself, is likewise enforced to go lay him down in an other place. In like sort, this fierce and inhuman monster, having left his first hold, fearing to be smitten with the brandished sword the knight held in his hand, with the point whereof he menaced fatal death: keeping himself of the whole length of the sword, turned again, watching where he might fasten his renting paws and envenomed teeth, without endangering himself: but the weapon being so near him, either to lop off a leg, or else to slice his head from his shoulders, as he perceived how well the knight could handle his sword: yet raising himself into rage and choler more than before, presseth on himself nearer and nearer, to throw a violent blow on the brave warrior, which (notwithstanding all his subtlety) could not hurt him. For he beheld the weapon aloft, wherewith the knight verily thought to spoil the Savage: but the blow missing the aimed intent, falling to the earth, entered more than half the length of the sword thereinto, which he being unable presently to recover, was left destitute again. On which advantage, the cruel beast got opportunity to close again with him, and getting hold about the midst of his body, he held him so strongly with his dangerous claws, as with wonderful force they pierced through the mail of his haubergeon and his armour, even to the tearing of his flesh: whereby he felt such exceeding anguish, as he was ready to sink down, for the black blood came forth in four or five places, where the claws were entered even to the entrails: which the knight too well feeling and perceiving, considered, that if he applied not his very uttermost devoir, quickly to recover himself out of this hold, and lost any jot of courage in this extreme need, the loss of life likewise would immediately follow.  
Hereupon, he smote five or six strokes with the pommel of his sword on the lions head, for otherwise he could not reach at him: and with such wonderful puissance were these blows delivered, as he broke the skull of his head, and made his two most hurtful teeth fall out of his mouth, the blood likewise gushing forth in great abundance. When the Lion felt himself so grievously wounded, fearing least worse should befall him: endeavoured all he could to avoid taking and getting far off from the knight, forbore to turn again as he did ere be came to those assaults: whereby Gerileon felt himself much eased, for the beast pressed him in such fort, as he was well near sweltered and out of breath. Thus continuing still the combat in extremity of fury, the rest of the day was spent, when the Lion at one stroke thinking to finish the combat: let drive a very dangerous blow at the knight, who foreseeing his malicious rage, carefully regarded lest, he should abide any more gripes, and therewithal delivered him such a stroke on the crest: as he was compelled to stagger backward, yet not to give over the fight, when lifting up one of his paws, he thought therewith to rend away the knight's helmet: which Gerileon perceiving, prevented him with such a sound salutation, as made him fall to the ground very weightily: then redoubling an other courageous stroke upon his head, cloven it in the midst, the one half whereof (with the right cheek and brains) fell to the earth. At this instant the Lion changed his shape again into the likeness of a Bear, that half breathless and overspent with travail, fled into the Cave again, and there hid himself.  
The knight well contented to pause a while, went from the Den, and returned to the place where he might rest all night, and there finding the Golden bottle, wherein the Nymph Olympia brought the precious unguents, and healed such wounds as he received the day before: he took and opened it, and applying the same again to his hurts: in less than half an hour they were sound healed. So feeling no anguish or pain at all, save only that his body was wearied very much: being overcharged with sleep, he laid him down and closed his eyes, where two whole hours he took quiet rest, and there will we leave him, to finish this Chapter.   

CHAP. 9  
How the cruel Polyppe came again the third time to assail the Knight, who was greatly aggrieved that the Polyppe waked before him in the morning, How afterward he entered combat with him again, having vowed not to rest or sleep, till he had utterly vanquished & put him to death. What was the end of their combat, and what perplexity (after the fight finished) the noble Gerileon remained in. From which things may be gathered, what labour a good and virtuous man endureth to conquer sin, when he beholdeth the frailty of his own nature, that would make him sleep in fair resolutions and deliberations, thereby to cause him lose the victory which was before promised him. Then what trouble and busy care he hath to overcome such a horrible monster, that is provided with sundry sorts of force & defence, to violence the most courageous and hardiest that shall withstand him. Afterward is shown what strength and efficacy is in the oath of well minded man, and that it ought not to be broken for any accident whatsoever that may happen.  
I Told ye before, when the Polyppe first came to the cave, and when first he me● with our invincible knight, that a foul● fluttered thither somewhat before, or even in the same instant was there parched upon a tree, from whence as yet 〈◊〉 not removed, but both while the combat endured and afterward, still she sat upon one branch of the tree, to behold all that should pass between the two combatants, desirous in herself that the fight should soon be ended, and that the knight should be the conqueror, for causes wherewith ye shall be better acquainted hereafter.  
Now about two hours after the Knight had begun to sleep, the Polyppe (more furious in his new shape of a bear then before) came forth of his dark den, where he reposed himself awhile, now to finish the combat so long since begun: determining to die himself, or else utterly to exterminate the knight's days, for whom he fought very seriously, both within the Cave and every where without. The Bird beholding all this, and fearing least the monster should meet with the knight, he would kill him in his sleep, as he certainly intended: flew right down where Gerileon slept, and with her benake and wings so smote at him, that he awaked, and rising up took his Helmet, looking every where about him, to see who had so rudely waked him from sleep. But no where could he perceive the doer of this deed, only he heard the Polyppe turmoiling and raving on each side, seeking where he was, yet could not find him, braying with a very hideous and fearful noise: whereby he conjectured, that he was waked by some other then humane providence, to end the combat begun, & now perceiving he had slept over long, he began to chide himself in this manner. Unhappy that I am, to sleep so long in this place, where I rather ought continually to have had mine eyes waking, considering the enterprise I have taken in hand, whereof now (it may be) I shall never see the end. Am I not most indiscreet and badly advised, to have so little care of myself, as he●re to sleep sound, without dreading the danger and hazard of death, where I have opposed both my life and honour, for safety of which I ought to watch continually? Certainly I contesse, & very well I know it, that I little deserve to make profession of arms, to ●nd such doubtful and perilous attempts, as daily I endeavour myself to meet withal: seeing having now found them, I make so slender account of them: as I adventured to sleep, when honourable devoir bids me wake and do my duty. High time than is it for me, by marvelous diligence, and chivalry, such as beseemeth a man of virtue and account, to amend this fault: whereon I swear, that I will never sleep or take any rest, till I have slain this mutable and inconstant monster, that disguiseth and changeth himself into so many shapes, to deceive and deprive me of life by an over long linger combat. Having thus spoken to himself, he lightly stepped aloft to the large den, wherein was the loathsome kennel of the savage, whom he found in such manner and form as already I have told ye: to wit, in the likeness of a Bear, exceeding marvelous in greatness to behold, yea, more than I dare report unto ye. For in his head, in steed of two eyes, you would have ●ayd were two burning torches, and you would have imagined when he opened his mouth, that there ye beheld fire & flaming brands, when his teeth showed like glowing red fire hooks, and were of such greatness withal, as he could not contain them within his mouth, but were seen out on each side the length of more than half a foot. All his body was covered over with very long hair, unlike such as other bears have, his claws were great and sharp, & his skin was of such proof, as it could not be pierced thorough to the flesh, as the knight well perceived at the very first stroke, which he delivered at him so soon as he came to the Cave, & with such force did it fall upon his shoulder, as the sword having sliced away a great quantity of the hard harsh hair: he might see it fall on the ground, but no hurt at all was done to the flesh. For the weapon grated upon the skin, as the noise of a file upon hard metal, when it breaketh through the place where it enters: notwithstanding, the monster felt some pain hereby, for he was no sooner smitten, but he brayed aloud so horribly, as he was heard more than ten miles from the place. This could not withhold him from running on the knight, against whom he so bestirred himself, as he fastened his two feet about his neck so rudely: as the knight had no mean to hurt him, or defend himself. Then with his teeth he would have bitten him by the throat, in which place if he had wounded him, he had been dead though he had an hundred lives. But the knight foreseeing the danger well enough, got the shield from his shoulder right before him, where against the monster could not any jot prevail, because he could fasten no hold thereon, so the knight stood wholly covered therewith. Now strive they to throw one another down, when gerileon's strength against the Polyppe was to small purpose, such was his wonderful and unmeasurable power: on the contrary, the monster so roughly shook the knight, as if he had not had more agility and skill, than force, at the very first offer he had been cast: but he used such nimbleness and sleights, in succouring that part where he was most in danger, and containing himself still firmly on his feet: as the beast thus contended with him more than an hour, and yet could get no other advantage. In the end having incessantly tormented himself in this manner so long time, he (for all this) made him measure his length on the earth, even as the mighty huge Pine tree, long laboured with the forcible strokes and cuts of the Carpenter's axe is in the end compelled to fall, and with his fall, leaves the mark of his goodly branches imprinted on the ground where he lies, by the noi●e whereof all the beasts in the forest where it is hewn down, stand quaking and trembling with fear. Even so the valorous knight, making a fearful thundering with his armour, fell so weightily on the earth, as the mark of his arms, his helmet, braces, & print of his shoulders, remained engraven on the ground, he being also sore astonished with the fall. The beast that wonderfully laboured for this advantage, unable to contain himself on his legs, fell also upon him very fiercely: yet the knight was not so lost in his senses, but that he took special guard, how thus lying on his back, he might bestow some hurtful wound upon the monster, and thrusting fiercely at the arms and legs of the beast, he made him glad to leap from him hastily, in which leap taking unadvised heed, he fell with such weight upon his own head, as he became in a trance with the fall. This gave the knight liberty to recover footing again when advancing himself to this savage disguised Bear, he gave him so many strokes with the sharp keen edge of his sword: that a great part of his body seemed to be shorn in like sort, as when a citizen is barbed or polled by a young apprentice Barber, unskilful in his occupation, his head appeared circled, notched, and very evil favouredly handled: but when he saw no little gutter of blood was drawn from him he grew into exceeding choler, when presently he beheld the beast come upon him with wide open mouth, to get hold of him by some mortal morsel: for since the receiving of this new shape, he had not yet received any great harm, which made him run likewise at the monster with the sword point and seeking to pierce it in at his mouth, by entering further into his body or head, devised how to take away his life from him: but herein he was deceived, for the monster feeling the sharp weapon in his mouth, held it with his teeth more hard than the steel itself, in such sort, that if the knight who (fearing what might ensue) had not quickly xecovered it thence, he had broken it in many pieces. But he rather intended to suffer the monster to take hold on him again, then to lose his weapon and be a naked man, whereof if once he were deprived, he then knew that he could not escape with life. The beast having thus fast seized on him, wounded him with his teeth so cruelly on the right arm, as he well pierced quite thorough: whereby the knight felt such pain, as if his arm had been pierced with hot irons, such was the venom of the monsters teeth: this anguish provoking Gerileon to anger, made him thrust violently with his sword at the belly of the bear, but it was as hard as the rest on his body, notwithstanding he still laboured that place with thrust upon thrust, till he had the skin there so soft and tender, as at last the sword passed in a great way. Now began the savage to be so mad and fierce, as snatching at the sword which was in his belly with his teeth, broke it in the midst and then getting forth of the knight's power, took his former shape of the savage again, and ran to hide himself in his den, as before he was wont to do, when he thought himself to be deprived of life, leaving nothing in the knight's hand with the piece of his sword, the breaking whereof did not a little grieve him. Nevertheless being so courageous and magnanimous as possible a man could be, he chéered by his spirits, hoping that night (which already was come upon him) to imagine some mean whereby he might victoriously escape the danger, for otherwise he had no care of saving his life, unless he might have thence with him th● honour of conquering the monster, And such confidence had he in his valour to perform this, as all fearful doubts were now utterly abandoned, and so he went from the cave, to the place where he was accustomed to take his rest the nights before: where being set down, he opened himself to view such wounds as he had received in this last conflict, and applied to them the precious ointments that were brought him by the Nymph Olympia, whereof there was now remained very little in the golden bottle, which made him th●s resolve, no more to hazard the combat without death or victory, because he well perceived, that to return wounded from the fight, was but to bring the dart of death with him, being without hope of help, in that he received no wound on his body but it was mortal, and which (without the unguents sent him by Oziris) had presently been his death. Being in this determination ready to lie down on the green grass, which was embroidered with many beautiful flowers, he remembered that before he entered the last battle with the monster, he had sworn not to sleep or take any rest until he had put the savage to death, or else himself to die in the trial, and so far herein he considered with himself, as thus he began to parley with himself. Thou hast vowed not to sleep or receive any jot of rest, until thou hast slain this monstrous Polyppe, or thine own life to perish in adventuring the combat. But unhappy man thou canst not do it, and thy vow so carelessly made in choler, ought not so constrain thee but that (necessity so requiring) thou repose thyself, in regard of such danger as hereafter may ensue: which being other than thou art able to conjecture of, thou mayst lawfully excuse thyself, and by good reason take thy rest, without standing on thine oath, thou abide in any offence of conscience. For it is said, that a thing spoken in choler and unadvisedly, remaineth without effect: because till the humour be past, he hath no perseverance to know what he said. In like sort if I bind myself by oath to do a thing impossible for human power, mine oath yields itself as vain and unprofitable, because of the uncertainty of future events and successive affairs: in which case to be quit of mine oath, it ought not suffice that I have done my endeavour, and all possible I could to do what I have vowed, albeit for the great difficulty of the thing sworn, I far differed from compassing it in such sort as I took mine oath. But how now? quoth he suddenly, why seek I reasons to excuse a matter sworn, where there is none to be admitted? I have vowed to God, then can it not be that mine oath is vain: for breaking of such an oath, is a thing that very weightyly chargeth the conscience, and God is the only punisher of so great and grievous an offence. For before I swore, I might very heedfully and advisedly regard what I do, and the fault committed by folliie is as punishable as that done by advise, in that all faults are committed willingly and by knowledge: in that God hath given reaso● to man, to take heed that he in no wise offend, so that a man not v●●ng reason in the beginning of his actions, wrought his own knowledge. Moreover. I have sworn voluntarily, without the compulsion of any one to cause me swear, seeing than I began thus willingly, it follows of necessity that I keep mine oath inviolable, without any breach whatsoever hereafter. Nor ought I seek any cavils whereby to excuse myself, for none at all is to be allowed, in that a man of virtue making profession of honour and arms, aught to keep his vowed faith, with all other matters belonging to his oath, even so dearly as his proper life: less than which we ought not to esteem our conscience and our honour, both which in me I should account greatly injured, if I should not die rather (a thing not impossible) or vanquish and put to death this monster before I sleep, accordings as I have vowed: it behooves me then not to sleep till I have done the deed.  
Reasoning thus a long time within himself, he began to think how in the mean while he should wear the time away, and thinking 〈◊〉 go to the first place of rest, to seek the sword of his squire and companion, he changed quickly that mind, in that the savage might begin i● the mean space: beside, he was uncertain whether the Ships stai●ed all this while at the place where he left them, and if they were gone, what then might ensue to frustrate their hope. Nor was ●ee certain likewise, in so dark a night to find the way that brought him thither, so straying he knew not whether, it would be long ere he returned again▪ and so should lose the commodity of gaining so great fame, as was the victory to come of this monstrous savage, and whi●h most of all grieved him, he had no reason to forsake Geliaste his faithful squire. Then comparing these reasons with others, he thought it overmuch boldness to stay there, ●hinking with hands and nails so soft and tender, to combat ●ith a beast so cruel, & wéeing to do that without his sword ●hich when it was whole and sharp he could not compass. Then came another opinion into his head, to lay a great deal of wood on the mouth of the cave, and putting fire there to, so smother the savage therein. But seeing he wanted fire, and yet if he had it, by this means the Lady should likewise die that he heard sing so sweetly: he forsook that conceit, imagining a new devise, that the den of the Sa●age had many nooks and corners in it, where happily Gel●ste and the lady were, in some place not known to the Polyppe. For heretofore he had seen the caves of underground belonging to the Giants Ferclaste and his brethren, & therefore he intended to cut with his sword great branches of trees near adjoining, and therewith to stop the mouth of the cave, that the monster should receive no breathing in, but so should die stifled. So thinking this last determination to be the best, he suddenly arose to perform his intent. What happened to him you may read in this discourse following.   

CHAP. 8.  
How Gerileon resolved to try again the combat against the Savage Polyppe, for the vanquishing of whom (after he had devoutly prayed unto God) he determined to get a great staff, and to fashion it in form agreeable for the combat: wherewith (after a hard and dangerous conflict) he killed the monster, for which he rendered thanks to God. And how afterward the Lady Orphyza and the young Gentleman Phynandermet and joyed together, thanking Gerileon for their deliverance, & of the conference they had together. Whence may be gathered, that a man loving and fearing God, putting all his confidenc● in him: is in the end so inspired, that being assisted with his grace, he vanquisheth sin, wherewith he hath long time been assaulted and tormented. From which such as receive any fruit, taking it well in worth, and thanking him with humility: they attain more contentment thereby, then if they had gained all the treasure and riches in the world.  
GErileon being thus determined, to give an end to his last resolution, remembered that when be parted from the stately Fairy Ozyris, above all things she recommended to him the love and fear of God, saying to him: that if he had recourse to him in his adversities, and with a good and cheerful courage, did implore his assistance: he would never fail him, but evermore (according to his accustomed kindness) would show himself ready to help, not permitting him to ●arrie long time oppressed. And sundry times before this virtuous Lady had taught him this fair lesson, which now in extremity the knight well remembered: whereof lifting his eyes on high, bowing his knees with great humility, and holding his two hands knit together up toward Heaven, where, with great admiration he contemplated the disorder well ordered of the Moon, the Stars, the working powers, and generally of the celestial bodies, according as his eyes were capable of this sight: he began to be ravished in contemplation, and made his prayer to Almighty God in this manner.  

The Prayer of Gerileon before his last combat with the Polyppe.  
Almighty God, whose power is infinite and incomprehensible, seeing thou hast created and appointed man on the earth to honour thy divinity, and extol thy might, which so much the more proceedeth from thee, as thou makest men admirable in greatness, in knowledge, in wisdom, in fortitude, and all other effectual virtues, which thou rainest down on them with thy right hand in great abundance: making some more wise than strong, others strong and less provided of wit and knowledge, others (as a principal work wrought by thy powerful hand) wise & va●●ant, prudent and strong together. And according to the get of a covetous merchant, that counteth his debts with booties, useth places for each accordingly, so being of of great value, and others of little, even so hast thou ordained, some more high, others in a place of more low and inferior degree, yet all nevertheless contented with their rooms, exalt thy Godhead, and render thanks for the good they have received from thy bountiful hand. In like manner (by thy goodness) each thing is maintained according to his place, with such providence, as no one aught receive discontentment, or hath occasion to be aggrieved, but to la●d and glorify thy high name. Ought not I then that am but a little cold earth, yield thee thanks, for that thou hast appointed me in this world, to be in some degree among human creatures, yea among such as thou hast ordained to fight against monsters, which the enemy of nature nourisheth and maintaineth to afflict poor creatures, and hereby to be among the number of those, whom thy almighty power hath yielded most admirable, a thing which I know in myself to proceed from thy only might & bounty. I yield thee thanks then O my God with all my heart, for the good I have received from thy largesse, and entreat thee in all affection, that continuing in me the gifts of thy liberality, it will please to regard me in this mine enterprise with thy eye of pity, and suffer me not to fall therein with shame and dishonour, but displaying thy grace in me, thou wilt inspire me with thy goodness, and make mine eyes to behold the beams of thy holy spirit, clearly to know and discern the mean and way, whereby I ought to do such things as are pleasing to thee: among which, if the combat that I have begun may be numbered, vouchsafe that I may by some means return and escape with victory, being assured that without thy help all my strength is vain and unprofitable. Hear then Lord with gracious ears, and listen to the prayer of thy afflicted servant, that craves it in humility of heart, and give beside what thou knowest more expedient for him than himself doth, and which the weak cogitations of man are not worthy to know.   
With these words he made an end of his prayer, & being risen up, he went with the piece of the sword that remained in his hand and lopped diverse branches from the trees, and especially he cut an oak, containing in compass the bigness of a man's thigh, even of the best membered man that might be found. This oak was strait and full of knots round about, which taking in one of his hands, he cut away the little branches or shrigs, that grew on each side: and when he had shaped it according to his mind●, it came into his head, that with this staff he should attempt to vanquish the Polyppe by mighty down right strokes, being persuaded to accomplish and perform with this staff, what he could not do with his weapon. In this determination he continued fashioning it in ample form for the purpose, sharpening the knots on every side, that as occasion served, he might the better prevail with his blows: the ●oint likewise thereof made he so piercing, as easily the ●●onster should not scape both strokes and thrusts. After he ●ad thus busied himself an indifferent while, he beheld fair Aurora come dancing with the morning's garland in her hand, which made him not a little joyful, in that he had assured hope to bring his purpose to pass: such was his confidence in God, from whose favour only he expected an answer of this hope. Whereupon immediately he armed himself, and taking his staff, went to look if the Polyppe were come again to the place, where the days passed they had continued their fight. Now came forth the monster more terrible and furious to behold, than at any time before, being armed with a huge strong buckler of iron, which he held in one hand, and a sharp ●●icing Cimetarie in the other, by the keen edge and point whereof, this day he was promised victory certainly.  
The knight also this day showed himself, and appeared more marvelous and fearful to the Savage monster, than ever he did before: for looking on him, ye would have thought, that as the Sun when he goeth to rest in the longest Summer days, is environed with Uermillion beams round about: even so brave and beautiful seemed our Champion, and presenting himself ready to the combat, ●e thus spoke to the Savage.  
Thou hast (enemy to nature) long made resistance against my force and strength, and by thy most strange disguise hast already three times escaped the danger of of thy life: but now (such is my trust in Almighty God, by whose inspiration and power I have chosen a new weapon to overcome and destroy thee withal) thou shalt escape me no more, but shalt now end thy days with utter confusion.  
The Savage monster as he was about to answer, showed him the Buckler and the Sword, which he lifted on high, and in so doing, he brayed and cried, so that it seemed by his cries, that he made the earth to tremble under his feet, that he menaced the knight so to murder him with his Cimetarie, and with the assistance of his buckler to perform what he had said. Having thus spoken in his language, he delivered a marvelous stroke at the knight with his cimetarie, who by his dexterity escaped both the stroke and death likewise, whereof he had been certainly assured, if the blow had fallen upon him, but being started aside, he would now make proof if he could do any thing with his staff against the Savage, and thereupon smote at him so lustily, as if he had not quickly animated his buckler before (which he held with one hand, though it was so weighty, as two men of this time could hardly stir it from the ground) doubtless the stroke had been his death: but he covered himself so well from the blow, as he had no harm, but his hand stonnied a little, whereat he being exceedingly angry, rodoubled with his Cimetarie such a stroke on the knight's shield, as cutting of a great part thereof, it fell to the ground, very hardly escaping the arm that held it, but no more harm or offence happened as yet. On the other side, the knight lifting up his staff with both his hands, having thrown back his broken shield upon his shoulder, intending either to end his life or the combat: and albeit the Polyppe stood under guard of his buckler, yet he received such a violent stroke: as made him fall down astonished, not knowing where he was, and as he sought to rise again, the courageous knight bestowed such an other greeting on on him, as he could not recover footing, so heavily fell the staff upon his stomach. Gerileon seeing him lie thus along, and weening the latest extremity was come, ran upon him to wrest the Cimetarie out of his hand, therewith to cut his thr●at, or otherwise kill him: but the Savage who was not yet so unprovided of strength, caught him so roughly by the arm, as made him like wise fall to the ground: when each recovering himself, a great many violent blows were dealt between them, as it would have required a very sound judgement, to know whether side should have the victory. But in the end Gerileon, being highly offended the combat endured so long, within him called upon God very devoutly, desiring him to strengthen his present stroke: and then lifting his staff with marvelous hardiness, the blow fell so peisantly on the monster's buckler, as made him amazedly turn three or four times about, during which time he redoubled such an other stroke upon him, as broke the back bone of him in sunder, with all the joints of his neck, the blood streaming from forth his mouth in great abundance, likewise out of his eyes, ears and nose, so that with the loss of this blood, he lost life and all together, though he might discern as he lay vomiting, how with enraged anger he bitten the ground, and the effusion of his blood made a great lake in that place. Nor can I compare his fall but to the like noise of a huge pine tree, that being overthrown by the unmerciful blasts of wind, cast down from the top of an high mountain, falleth to the bottom with marvelous noise, breaking and renting his small branches on each side, as all the inhabitants near adjoining, remain astonished and affrighted very fearfully.  
Thus died the infernal monster, by the virtue and patience of this brave knight only, who did more in this exploit, than the puissant king of Syria ever did in former time, with the assembly of all forces and conquering armies, which he only brought thither for the taking or destruction of this monster.  
Being joyful of this gracious victory, he felt no pain or labour of this combat, albeit he was bathed all in sweat, through vexation of long delay in the fight: like a woman after the hard travail of childbearing, forgetteth the anguish of that bitter brunt, seeing her infant well brought into the world: for then such is her joy, as she remembers no more the pa●●ed storms. So with great humility and devotion Gerileon gave thanks to God, from whom he knew proceeded this worthy work of victory, acknowledging that he was but the minister or instrument, by whom GOD showed the effects of his almighty providence.  
Soon after he had thus given thanks, the Lady that sung the Song which ye heard before, came forth of the Den where the Polyppe was wont to hide himself: she being pale, wan, and trembling with fear, came and fell on both her knees at the knight's feet, and embracing his legs fast in her folded arms, she thus spoke.  
Most noble and virtuous knight, as ever was borne in this world, extracted and issued of high, princely, and generous lineage: happy ●e the hour of thy arrival in this country, blessed were the paps that gave so fair a creature nourishment, and the mother that bore thee in her womb, likewise the ship wherein thou sailest to this coast, never may it perish, but with safety pass into every place, free from vexation of storms or tempests. Longer master tho● live then the father of Amphilocus and Thrasimede, the strength and vigour of thine arms never feeling any weakening, but by the glory and honour of this blessed days victory, to all posterity may they make thee more famous, and after death revive perpetually the renown of thy valour. May each season by thy means taste the flourishing verdure and sweetness of an everlasting spring time, seeing by thy her●yeall virtues I am this day delivered from most miserable bondage and servitude, wherein poor desolate Princess that I am, I have been too long a time detained. Think and consider virtuous knight I entreat thee, wherein my wretched self may do thee any service. My father hath great store of riches and treasure, beside more store of wealthy and honourable friends: to whom if it may please ye to bear me company, I am assured for this my deliverance, he will return suc● recompense, as ye shall have no cause to be discontented.  
Lady (answered Gerileon) riches and treasure are no such recompense as my travails do expect, neither did desire of any such matter incite me to knightly deeds, following the execution of dangerous exploits of Arms: but an earnest affection to do good, and bringing to pass such things as are pleasing in the sight of God: as is shortening the lives of the wicked, that ordinarily commit a thousand cruelties, displeasing to his majesty. Nor am I ignorant, that among men of honour and virtue, I shall bear away more account and fame by the effects of this affection, than should I be possessed of massy heaps of riches, the greedy desire whereof (oftentimes) provoketh men rather to do evil then good. And this is my assurance, that thus I shall obtain more easily the favour of the better sort, and no other guerdon do I require, either of you or your father: if the pleasure I have done ye, in delivering ye from this monster's captivity, may merit any recompense at all on my behalf. But I repute the deed to be of so slender value, in regard of your deserts, as for all my labour bestowed, I require no other thing of ye: but that ye would tell me the first effects of this adventure, and especially of whence ye are, how and wherefore ye have been thus detained by this monster, also why ye sung the Song before the beginning of our combats: persuading yourself, that with this only courtesy I shall hold myself sufficiently requited.  
If I should (most virtuous knight, answered the Lady) recount from the beginning to the end, the whole History and progress of all my misfortunes: three times would the sun and moon make their course about the world, before my discourse were ended, and so ye might thereby receive more discontent than pleasure. But for your sake, I am content to reveal what you desire to know, and when my tale shall grow irksome and offensive to ye, then will I end if so ye please to command me. As the Lady proceeded in this kind of language, the knight (who held her by the right hand) espied her cheeks suddenly died with a Uermillion blush surpassing the Rose, whereby her beauty which was nothing less inferior thereto, received more splendour then before it did, when the monster with fear still dismayed her heart, and this inward dismay, greatly altered and changed her beautiful complexion, making her look pale, wan, and coullerlesse. Now began Gerileon greatly to marvel hereat, and withal stood as amazed, when be beheld the unlooked for company of a young Gentleman so near him, fair and of good grace, who had procured this loovely change in the Lady: nor did he take it any jot displeasantly, though with a smiling and debonnarie countenance, the young Gentleman approached near to touch her, saluting her with a sweet kiss, humble reverence, and kind embrace, expressing his inward affection and goodwill, which immediately was pursued with amiable and gentle speech to Gerileon, full of gratulations and thankful courtesies, as well for his deliverance, as the Ladies there present, where to when the knight had kindly replied, as he was not to learn his courtship, the Gentleman ran and embraced the Lady in such sort, as they are wont to do, that have been long time without the sight and company of such as they extremely love and affect: and she like wise, as finding no small ease hereby to her amorous flames so strictly bound the Gentleman in the circle of her arms, overcome with love and entire affection, as if he had not had more discretion than the Lady, fearing lest Gerileon would be offended at these ceremonial actions of love: I think they would never have sundered till the world's end: but he showing a bashful countenance for these amorous behaviours, (which nevertheless were performed modestly and comely) winding himself (though loath) from the anchorholde of his joy, broke forth in these speeches to the Lady. Sweet Mistress, I heard that you made a promise to this knight, to whom both you and I remain so highly beholding, as you ought not delay any longer time, but to reveal what ye have promised: above all things be so good as your word, and obey whatsoever he shall please to command ye: being assured that he will command no other thing, then what shall be agreeing with honour and honesty.  
My good Lord and friend, answered the Lady, I doubt not but this worthy knight will pardon me, if I be a little forgetful of my duty toward him: considering the sight of you ravished my heart with such joy, that if ever he knew to love, and what his conquering passions are: he will rather refer the fault to his power, then to any disgrace or discourtesy on my behalf committed.  
At these words Gerileon sighed and changed colour, féeing to kindle again within him by this new touch or remembrance, the lively amorous flames which not long since took beginning in his youthful breast: and so much the more they increased in him, as he strove to cover and dissemble the same, which the Lady and young Gentleman well enough perceived, albeit they made no show thereof, tearing to displease him to whom they were so greatly indebted.  
In this time Geliaste came forth of the Cave, quaking and trembling, which made the knight so glad (fearing he was dead) as he forgot some part of his late remembrance: for next to his Lady, he entirely loved his Squire, and would not lose him for any thing in the world. His coming causing pleasure and content to them all, they went further from the Cave, and lay down in the shade under a great goodly Tree: where sitting very kindly together, the Lady began her discourse, in form and manner as ye shall read in the Chapter following.   

CHAP. 11.  
Orphisa recounteth the whole progress of her adventure to the Knight Gerileon, how the King Di●gonde of Lusitania (after long trial of his fortune) having espoused the Princess of Spain, named Pollyda, and having no issue by her: she beguiled him with one of her fairest Damosels, called Olympia, of whom he begat the fair Orphisa, who was carried away by the Savage Polyppe, and afterward delivered as ye have heard. Whereby we may note, how variable fortune is in this world, and how after she hath (by her inconstancy) overtravayled such as are under the guard of their good Angel: in the end they escape with pleasure and contentment, more easily after they are brought to the port of so many evils, then if they had never been tossed in those pitiless and dangerous storms.  
THe skilful Lady Orphisa, began then to recount her adventure to the Fairy Knight, in this manner. You must understand sir Knight, that I am daughter to the wise and virtuous king of Lusitania, a man, by reason of his prudence and valour, sufficiently known to all the world, as having done many things worthy of memory, the ●ame whereof is bruited every where. He being named Diegonde, was in his younger years a most accomplished knight, even in the time of king Dorino, father to the king of Spain at this instant reigning, who had a daughter in years marriageable, called Pollyda. This Lady, beside her excellency of beauty, could cunningly twist, spin & sow, as is most proper to women, likewise she was well instructed in good letters and the liberal Arts: in such sort, as she was able to disgrace the most wise and studious Philosophers of those times, so subtly could she dispute of matters depending in Moral and Natural Philosophy concerning herself.  
By reason here of she became so proud and audacious, as she imagined no man then living in the world, was worthy to join with her in marriage, and therefore despised all: so that there was no one (how worthy so ever) that durst enterprise to demand the question, no, not the great King of England, who in those days was the most fair and accomplished knight in the world, and highly loved of King Dorino, because of his valour. But the King my Father, who was become amorous of her, would put it in adventure, either to gain her in marriage, or be altogether refused. And in this resolution he went to the king of Spain's Court, where within short time after his arrival, the Daughter having heard the cause of his coming thither, gave him to understand by one of her Pages: that he could win nothing but loss of time, by seeking to join in marriage with her, and therefore he should do much better, to employ his purpose about other occasions. hereat although the king my father was extremely offended, yet left he not for all that to pursue the cause, and made his request to the king of Spain (who would not marry her against her will) with such importunity: as in the end the Father and the daughter were constrained to grant the pretended marriage, yet under this condition. That eight days before the nuptials, my Father should be bound to hold open joust a whole day together, against all knights that should present themselves at this general tourney, which expressly was there appointed for honour of that day: and if he were unhorsed by any knight, he should desist from his importunate suit and request of marriage. But if fortune smiled so favourably on him, as that he went away conqueror in this enterprise: then eight days afterward, the desired marriage should be accomplished.  
My father, who was carried away with over hot and ●urious heat of marrying this fa●re and skilful Pollyda, accounting no danger to be in the enterprise, willingly yielded to the marriage, under the condition proposed: although he knew right well, that those times afforded great number of most hardy and brave knights, that knew how to behave themselves in the joust, and could dismount such as carried better esteem then themselves. But amongst all, and beyond all the rest, was reckoned as most strong and valiant in each point of chivalry, the young knight Floridamant, son to the great king Brandismell of England, and him only my Father doubted, as sundry times before he acquainted me withal. Weighing then advisedly the valour of this young knight, he began somewhat to despair of the issue of his attempt, and as in this thought he stood pensive and troubled, he concluded to put in practice, what heretofore was said by the great Lacedaemonian Admiral Lysander, to wit: that where the lions skinny fell out to short to piece it out with the Fox's case: minding to use industry and cunning in these affairs, where he thought strength and manhood might happen to fail, having to deal with such mighty and puissant adversaries.  
In this determination, understanding that the great king Belligande of Gaul had a Lance, the iron point whereof was so enchanted, as all such as were touched therewith should be dismounted: either by sleight or force he resolved to be possessed thereof, imagining which of these means were likest to speed, and to adventure both rather than fail of his intent.  
To bring about this stratagem, he went with all speed into the realm of Gaul, where being, he heard that in a Forest appertaining to that kingdom, dwelled a certain man, which termed himself a knight, but commonly he was called the cunning Thief: and so subtle was he in robbing, as nothing could escape his fingering, and all his attempts were so artificially compassed, as such as had lost any thing, or were otherwise rob, presently the blame of their loss was imputed to him: he likewise seeing each one esteem him such a famous thée●e, and so admire his sleights and policies, took great pleasure therein, and oftentimes would sit solemnly smiling thereat.  
To this man the king my father forthwith travailed, and promised him very large sums of money, if he could rob the king of this enchanted Lance, which he so safely kept in his Cabinet, as it was thought impossible to get it thence. The cause why he held it with such vigilant care, was for the love of a fairy named Oziris, who thereof had made a present to him: hoping withal hereafter to leave it to a son of his, which as yet was but a very young infant. Notwithstanding the great difficulty consisting in this business: yet in respect of the large sum of money, the thief promised to deliver this Lance into my father's hand, as he did the day after my father had this conference with him, but first he thus bespoke him. Knight, quoth he to the king my father (in that he had no other knowledge of him) it is necessary, if ye would have this Lance, that to morrow you go with me to the great City of Poitiers, where the king of Gaul at this present maketh his abode, and where he is determined to hold a general tourney, because as to morrow is the day, when he won the victory against the Giant Percevall, who had long time before greatly travailed and molested him with war. I will stay for ye near the place where the Torney is to be kept, and you shall go to the king, telling him that I am the Knight Lorgolio, cozen to the Giant Percevall, whom he slew by treason: wherefore I am come to defy him in combat man to man, to revenge the death of the Giant my cozen: with which revenge I should think myself satisfied, might I but break a couple of Lances with himself, no other in his defence to offer me injury: beside, he shall not strengthen himself with his enchanted Lance, whereby my cozen received his death, and for better assurance hereof, he shall deliver that Lance into your hand to keep wh●le we joust, which I am assured he will not refuse to do: thus may you departed, and bear away the Lance with ye: but if this devise should fail us, assure yourself that quickly we will find another: for I will receiu● no money of ye, before ye have this Lance so much desired, in your possession.  
My father liked well of this council, and (to make short) it came to pass even as the thief had before devised: for the king of Gaul hearing the defiance, and weening that all my father told was true, made no doubt of giving the Lance into his hand, and my father being possessed thereof while the king of Gaul went to put on better Armour: both he and the cunning thief departed, so that none could tell what was become of them. The king and all his Court (at the first tidings hereof) was greatly abashed, but understanding soon after the cause of this theft, and who was the inventor of this policy: it was made but a merry jest of. In the end (notwithstanding) this pleasure did not so con-continue, but this fine thief, fearing to be taken, was glad to fly from the kingdom of Gaul, and passed thence into England, where afterward he lived and remained a long time.  
As for the king my father, he returned again by Sea to Lisbon, and from thence to Saragossa, where the king Dori●o then held Court, where being arrived, he behaved himself so well with this sly gotten Lance, as all the knights that jousted against him, yea, even the brave knight Floridament, were foiled and dismounted to the ground: where●●t the Princess Pollyda (who bore no love at all to the king my father) being greatly displeased, would have refused the marriage before agreed upon by the king Dori●o: saying that for her part, she had given no consent, and without the Bride's consent, hardly can any marriage be accorded, especially with such a one to whom she could not use any affection.  
hereat the king my father being highly offended, in fury flung forth of the Spanish king's court, giving him many hard taunts and injurious speeches, for the disloyalty that he said remained in him. On the other side, the king was full of rage and anger against the infant his daughter, whom he ceased not daily to persuade, that she should like well of marrying with king Diegonde of Lusitavia, lest his credit and reputation should be condemned, in using treachery and perfidy to so great a Prince. So what thorough love and pleasing speeches, as also force and frowning countenances, in the end she yielded to his will. But this was after the Lady had had conference with a noble and excellent Fairy, named Ozyris, who had been greatly helping in her birth, endowing her with manifold virtues and riches of spirit, for which she was not a little commended: and after the decease of her mother, Sister to king Barachen of Scotland, she had sometime nourished her in her rich invincible palace, which was in the realm of great Britain, and ever afterward she persuaded her, that she should not marry with any living man, which was the cause she held so aloof from this aforesaid marriage.  
After she had well schooled her concerning this matter, the noble and virtuous Fairy said, that in respect children by the divine law) ought obedience to their parents, and it was her fathers will she should match with the king Diegonde, who already had done so much for her love, and was even ready to despair if he failed thereof: she counseled her not to withstand her father's appointment. And although in former time she had dissuaded her from marriage, it was because she discerned by her skill, that such issue as descended from her in marriage (if she fortuned to have any) should have hard hap, and prove very unfortunate, which would be such grief both to her husband, as the greater part of their youth would be spent in grief and pensiveness. Notwithstanding, if this marriage must needs be accomplished, she promised to use the matter in such sort, as by this conjunction she should never have child. And so found she means to comfort them sufficiently, as hereafter ye shall understand the manner how, without injury to the beautiful Pollydon: but my father (by himself and his) should feel the evil and misfortune, whereto yet she promised a day of final conclusion.  
The Princely maid giving credit to her prophetical speeches, was greatly comforted and satisfied, and so resolved to marry with the king my father: after which determination once known, soon was he sent for by the King Dorino, when with great pleasure and content to every one, he espoused Pollyda, with her he lived more than twenty years, yet could he have no issue by her, which so grieved him, confounding his thoughts with sadness and melancholy, as the most part of the time he eat his bread in moan and tears: for I imagine it a marvelous heart break to a man that desires to live after his death, and perpetuate his memory by his children: to see his marriage consumed without any generation, that might make mention of him when he is dead. And such (herefore) was his entire conceit of grief, as oftentimes he meant to repudiate his Queen Pollyda: but such again was the wondrous love he bore her, fearing to offend God, and displease king Dorino her father: as he was still dissuaded when such thoughts entered his fantasy. All this likewise the Queen very well noted, and notwithstanding her former despisings, yet after her marriage she loved him exceedingly, pitying his grief, but shadowing her own so much as possibly she could, seeking by all means to remedy both, as in the end she did, by the advise and counsel of the wise Ozyris, who every day and in all places assisted her, persuading her to do as followeth. One of her waiting Damosels, whom my father used good countenance towards, because she was of perfect beauty, being named Olympia, daughter to he Duchess of Terciede, a chaste and prudent dame: with her the Fairy advised the Queen, that my father should have dalliance. She following this council, one night when the king my father sent word to have her company in bed: so cunningly handled the matter, that this damosel lay there instead of her, for the maid was likewise secretly amorous of the king, which was the cause, that (being where she would be) she disliked not this sweet and pleasant deceit, but without any show of displeasure, she gladly endured the king's pastime with her, seeing the Queen was so well content to afford her her place and privilege. To such effect grew my father's labours, who little thought he was thus beguiled: as the Maid was conceived with child: when afterward the Queen coming to sleep with the King, said that she felt herself conceived, answerable to his so long desire, for which good fortune he should applaud the heavens, from whence proceeded so great good to her. Hereof was the king my father glad, thinking the Queen had told the truth indeed, as within short while after, he minded to go on pilgrimage, to pray at the holy Sepulchre of jesus Christ, and returning thence, to visit Saint james in Galicia, at each place to thank God for this fortunate event.  
Being thus resolved, one day he secretly departed in disguised garments (feigning some other excuse) to accomplish his intended voyage, in which time (being the space almost of a whole year) it chanced that the fair Olympia was delivered of me, to the great content and pleasure of Queen Pollyda, who nine months together feigned herself with child, though but mere dissimulation: and using the Damosels deliverance as her own, gave generally to be known by some of her, favourites and most familiar Ladies, that this long expected fruit had issued from her own body. And to the end this mystery might not be discovered, the wise Ozyris took to her invisible Fairy house or Palace, the fair Olympia my mother, where ever after she continued of self same nature as her other nymphs and fairs, among whom at this present she is most beloved, as I certainly know by such revelations that herself hath shown me. Now the king my father being ignorant of all these things, was so glad when he returned from his voyage to see me grown to a pretty port or stature, and that the Queen was not sickly or felt such pains as other do after their delivery: as all his care now was for my education and instruction, not only in curious weaving and sowing, but also of good letters, especially poesy and music, perceiving my voice apt and proper for singing.  
Herein likewise did the queens care agree with his, and so dearly did she love me, as if I had been indeed a branch of her own body: for never went she to any place, but still I must accompany her, through which continual association, it happened one day among the rest, that she would needs ride on hunting, a pastime wherein she took exceeding pleasure. I being with her, the hounds eagerly pursuing the grave, and she chase that things fadged not according to her mind, road so fast that we had soon lost one another.  
The space of a whole day almost, remained I thus alone in this marvelous great forest, wearied and spent with seeking to find my company again, till at length by good hap I came to a fair and clear fountain, from whence streamed forth a swift gliding river, that made his course quite thorough the forest: where alighting from my horse, to rest and refresh myself on the soft tender herbs that grew about the banks of the fountain, I had not long sitten there in this sort, but the fair Olympia my mother appeared in sight unto me in the habit of a Nymph, at whose sudden sight I was greatly amazed. But with her sweet and gracious language, she delivered my heart from fear and dismaying, recounting to me (as in a dainty compiled history) the whole discourse of my birth, in manner and form as you have heard, albeit somewhat more at large.  
Moreover she told me, how the mighty and skilful Fairy Ozyris her Mistr●sse, had disclosed to her, that by the craft and means of an old abominable Necromancian, named Charonyfer, should be nourished a cruel and hideous monster called the Polyppe, whose cruelty and puissance should be doubted and feared over the whole earth. This beast, to injury both her and me, should one day steal me from my parents and friends, to keep me in extreme misery and thraldom, until the best knight in the world, nourished and brought up by this Fairy as her own child, albeit extracted originally from the best, puissant and most virtuous king alive: should travail to the place of my imprisonment, and there by his prowess and valiancy (killing the monster) deliver me out of captituitie.  
Beside this, she told me, that during the last seven years of my detaining and misery, a young noble man, brother to Queen Pollyda, to hinder the monster from killing me, should follow me to the place where I was imprisoned, and there each day for six years space, changing into as many sundry forms as the monster, should combat with him for my liberty: yet all his endeavours would prove in vain, because the monster was only to be slain by the knight of the Fairy Ozyris. And to let me know when the last year of my misery should ensue, she said, that from the beginning thereof, the noble man (who loved me with perfect love) should be changed into a Fowl or Bird of strange sort, in which shape daily would he come to visit and see me, even until the Polyppe were slain, when he should receive his manly shape again, and the day of the Polyppes death, should be the final extermination of my misery.  
After she had imparted to me all these things, she threw forth such a perfume of Poppy upon me, as (from the end of her discourse) I slept so sound by the fountains side, that I neither saw or heard when she departed: and as some while I continued in this sleep, Queen Pollyda not a little displeased for my loss, having with her train sought thorough the forest, came at last and found me where I slept, when gently awaking me, we thence departed again into the City.  
Within a while after, it chanced, that by the advise of the king my father, and his Queen Pollyda, I was sent to king Dorino my imagined Grandfather, who desired to have me near him, because he verily thought me to be his daughter's child, by reason whereof he wunderouslie loved me. Having continued certain years in his Court, this young Prince here present, named Phinander, youngest son to king Dorino, and brother to king Dorian, that at this day governs over the Spaniards, being equal in years with me, taking me for so near in kindred to him: spent the time of his infancy with me, and I in like sort with him.  
Among these pastimes and sports of children, it happened that we became amorous of each other, and that in such manner, as we could not endure long without each others sight: which love each one imagined to grow by natural affection, that so near kin do customably bear one to another, and the young Prince verily persuaded himself, that the iovissance of our love might not be compassed, because of the prohibition of Christian laws, concerning marriage between so near kindred as we seemed to be. Hereupon, seeing him one day very sad and pensive, being alone in the Garden, I faithfully discovered to him the manner of my birth, according as my sweet mother Olympia before had told me: which highly, comforted him, causing both in him and me far greater affection to each other, if more might be then was commenced before. Our passions were still worn out with honest solace and pleasure, expecting that the long delay of time should minister more entire delight of our loves, according to the honest desire abiding in either of us: but both our hope and desire were suddenly squandered, by a new and strange accident that immediately followed.  
Know then gentle Sir, that the day when the Prince Dorian, eldest son to the king of Spain, br●ught to his father's court the fair princess Amarylla, daughter to the King of Gaul, whom he had newly espoused, there was speech of nothing else but joy and solace: in midst of which pleasure, this wicked monster which you have slain, entered the great hall of the Palace with a most horrible noise and cry, which made the Ladies in such affright, as each one ●led for safety of themselves, yea, though there were present many brave and hardy knights, yet being unarmed, and thereby not fit to use resistance, some ran with speed to get on their armour, and others to save themselves from death. By this means the Polyppe had leisure to make choice of me, among all the other Ladies of the court, and after he had caught me fast in his arms, without any stay, he ran over the land and sea, what of his own nature, and by the enchantments of that cursed Magician, who gave wings to his course: that in short time (astonied and near hand dead with fear) he brought me to this place, where ever since I have remained in grief and torments, living the most part of this doleful season, with raw flesh, and other viands, sometime good, sometime bad, such as the monster did eat himself: but to speak truth, since his first ●aking me, he never made semblance of any wrong to me: but from day to day I s●w how his rigour increased, and if he had failed of his prey, or could not get it so conveniently as he would, I judged that myself at last should have served to slake his hunger. But at the beginning, my dear mother Olympia so assisted me, and from time to time gave me so good council: as (by many slight subtleties and inventions) I appeased his anger toward me, even until this prince arrived here: for ye must note withal, that from the first day of my surprising, as I have been assured by my mother, and since by him, that he ceased not to follow the monster, and to inquire the place of his adode, when (after long and painful travail) he found it: and one day when the monster was abroad, he adventured to come see and speak with me, when I advised him, as I did you, to beegon, lest he should chance to be taken or slain by the Polyppe. He giving credit to my words, went to the king of this country, who is the king of Assiria, a marvelous mighty, courteous, and debonnarie knight, to whom making himself known, and my misfortune: the good king (that divers times had laid ambushes for this monster, because he had ruined and wasted all this country, yet by no means could be slain or taken) caused an assembly of most part of the best knights of his Court, intending to assail this devil, and deliver me from my misery: but such slender success took this attempt, as in one day (by force and illusion of his manifold shapes) he slew more than three hundred of them: and if the king had longer continued his pursuit, himself had likewise perished. Wherefore with this l●sse he left off, and would no more enterprise my deliverance, whereat this prince conceived such unkindness, as in tears and grief he went to a forest, which is six or seven leagues distant from this place, where weeping and lamenting day and night, continually he called for death to end his affliction. Then appeared to him, the powerful and wise O●yris, who comforted him with future hope of my release, al●●it it would be long before, even seven whole years: du●●ng which time, that he might live safe (else had he no hope of continuance) she changed him into the form of a wild and savage beast, giving him power likewise to alter himself into so many shapes as the Polyppe changed: saving at his last fight he should receive the nature of a Bird, and could no more attain the form of a four footed beast, but might vary into sundry shapes of Birds.  
The Prince being thus transformed, came every day six years together to combat with the Polyppe, without vanquishing or being vanquished, though all the day they would not rest from their travail, but fought most furiously, even to the beginning of the seventh year, when he changed into the likeness of Fowl as you beheld him: for this is the Bird that fluttered on the Tree at your arrival, who since the Polyppe was slain by your virtue, hath now recovered his former humane shape: and for him sung I the song you heard at your first coming, which in that manner I composed in mine own language. Thus have you heard sir knight the whole estate of my adventure, what yet remaineth, ye may be satisfied in by me: so took the ladies tale an end, and therewith will I likewise end this Chapter.   

CHAP. 12.  
How the Lady Orphisa having ended the discourse of her adventure, there came into the place before Gerileon and the Prince Phinander, a knight cruelly wounded, trailed on the ground by his horse: who entreated Gerileon to assist him, in revenge of the wrong the puissant Adylas had done him. And now after he had heard of the civil war in Persia, since the departure of the great Sophy, he took leave to departed from the Prince Phinander, and the fair Orphisa, and how Gerileon healed the knight's wounds.  
THe History saith, that after the Lady had thus ended her discourse: the fairy Knight, who made no little marvel of the adventure, thus answered. Lady, right glad am I that I have slain the monster, which offered ye so much wrong and injury, for some other occasion, that made me so earnest in desire to combat with him, to wit, desire of acquiring honour and renown, for which knights valiant do often put their lives in jeopardy: beside, because in performance here of, I have done something pleasing to the noble dame Ozyris, towards whom I am, and by whom only I hold my life: if then for the love of her, and fair Olympia your mother, well known to me, and who in these combats hath greatly succoured me, likewise for the love of this prince here present, and virtue abiding in yourself: if I can do any other service profitable and pleasing to ye, I would make spare of no travail whatsoever, so I might accomplish any thing to your contentment. And were I not bound by a solemn vow never to take rest, till I have found a knight whom I seek, which constrains me God knows how far in his search, to revenge the death of my friend slain by him: I assure ye, that gladly would I accompany ye to the Court of your father, the king of Lusitania, where nevertheless one day (by God's help) I hope to see ye, with more ease and joy than I have at this instant, but thither shall this worthy Lord keep ye good and loyal company.  
As Gerileon spoke these words, and further would have proceeded, his purpose was prevented by the sudden course of a goodly horse, that trailed along a Knight well near ●ead, hanging by one foot in the stirrup, and holding a Lance in his hand: but the Fairy knight catching the horse by the bridle, took of the knight's Helmet, where he found a very dangerous wound in his head, then getting his foot forth of the stirrup, perceiving some life yet remained in him, and that he was not but in an amazed ●raunce: with the help of the prince Phynander and the Lady Orphisa he was recovered again. Being come to himself, he knew well the place where he was, which made him thus speak to Gerileon. For God's sake sir knight help us, and let us quickly get us hence, for here dwells the most cruel and inhuman monster of the world, who as yet (I hope) hath not seen us, therefore I advise ye presently to be gone: as for myself, I had rather be dead then tarry in a place so dangerous as this is. Fear not the monster you speak of (quoth the Fairy knight) for if he that hath thus shrewdly dealt with you, had had no more power than the monster at this instant ●at, you should be more healthful and in better disposition than ye are.  
I see well (said th● wounded knight) that you have not heard the inexpugnall force of the Savage Polyppe, for if ye had once experimented it: ye would sorbeare to talk of him, and tarry in this place less while then ye do. I know more of him than you do, quoth the fairy knight, for you know nothing but by hear say: and that which I know is by experience, the mistress of virtue, and true discoverer of all things. And to let ye see that I speak not by heart, I will give ye some instance. Then taking the knight by the hand, he showed him the Savage monster dead, which when he beheld, he trembled as full of fear and astonishment, as if he knew not whether this 〈◊〉 a dream or a certain●ie: and beholding well Gerillions countenance, said. Sir knight, have you then been one that 〈◊〉 this monster to his death? surely I believe, that since you had the stomach to come so near, in using courage against him while he ●ed, and are one of the brave army that hath discomfited him: you dare as boldly do something for the Christians, and I judge if ye be a Christian, and such a one as I imagine ye to be, you will not refuse to revenge the shame and outrage that hath been offered me. Believe me Sir, quoth the Fairy knight, I am a true Christian, and to any, be they Persians, Arabians, Syrians or Assyrians, I would give succour according to my power and their necessity: wherefore I pray ye tell me, in what affairs have the christians need to use my helps, and who hath thus unmanly outraged ye: to the end I may assuredly give them assistance, and also do my endeavour to avenge your wrong, tell me the truth, without any further fear of the monster, concerning both the one and other, Sir answered the knight herein will I gladly satisfy ye, but because I have very much to discover, if I should recount each necessary point thereto belonging, that ye may the more briefly understand these high affairs: I will shorten the discourse conveniently as I may, reveling nothing but the very principal matters.  
Know then sir that I am a knight, my native country is the kingdom of Persia, near to the great city of Tauris, and not long since was I sent in company of twelve other knights, with the strong & puissant Ariodant, a knight of great reputation, near cousin to the mighty Mutivell king of Persia, who was elected and chosen by the greater part of the inhabitants of that country (to go to the great Emperor of Constantinople, to entreat his succour for a multitude of good knights and christian soldiers, whom the young prince Mauspasian, brother to the great Sophy of Persia, very straitly besieged in the cities of Susa and Tauris, beside divers other places of the Persians kingdom. And to the end ye may know wherefore we went, ye must note, that (some while since) the great Sophy, a man worthy of great dignity, for the high prows where with he is endued, having seen a portrait curiously drawn▪ of the fair princes of Constantinople, daughter to the Emperor: became so carried away with the love of this most beautiful Lady, as he immediately resolved to make her his wife, what hazard or adventure so ever stood thereon. And to compass the same, he sent ambassadors to the Emperors, to demand her in marriage, but the Emperor at that time made refusal, because he was contrary to him in religion, and it was not lawful for a Christian to marry with a Pagan, neither for a Christian to join in any conversation with a heathen. Which was the cause (to take away this difficulty, which only seemed to hinder the marriage) that the great Sophy of Persia with all his people would become Christians, and should be baptised. And because the popular sort should frame their actions, and fashion their manners answerable to their king: himself was the first that received holy baptism, and commanded in all the countries of his kingdom, that the Christian law should be anounced and preached. Which being done according to his will and command, many willingly received the faith and religion: others finding the alteration very strange, withdrew themselves in displeasure: some other that would not at all receive it, but were constrained thereto, thought better to forsake their houses, lands and possessions, to live in another kingdom with liberty of conscience, and so continue the rest of their lives in the Pagan law. After these things were thus ordered, it chanced that the king absented himself, so that no one could tell what was become of him: some said, that as in former times he had been accustomed, so now (like a knight ●rrant) he was gone in search of strange and perilous adventures, with especial intent to make proof and combat body to body, with the puissant Nabot and Squamell, who were counted the most hardy knights in the world. Others said, that being transported with this amorous passion, he was gone to the Emperor of Constantinople, to demand of him the Princess his daughter: for if he found her to be of such perfect beauty, as the Painter by his art had discovered, surely by force or fair means he intended to have her. But which way so ever he took, very true it is, that soon after his departure, the Prince Mauspasian his brother, whom he had left to govern the Realm in his absence, would by force of arms compel such as had abjured the pagan law, and were become christians: to take again their former religion, saying, that what the king his brother had done and intended to do, was but only to induce the Christian Emperor, with more ease to grant the marriage of the princess his daughter. And because there was no likelihood by that mean to obtain her, by force he minded (after his return) to have the Lady, and this Mauspasian said that the Sophy had disclosed to him. But all would not give credit to his speeches, for many resisted to do as he commanded, thus urging the contrary: that seeing they found the Christian religion good and profitable to their consciences, as also the salvation of their souls, seeing likewise their king had caused them to undertake that religion and belief, and since had given them no command to the contrary: the present Governor (being but a deputy) ought not constrain them to forego the religion, but the same king might do it when he should be present. Beside, what once he had so freely granted and established, could not so suddenly displease him, to the prejudice of his people, for as they did owe loyalty and fidelity to their prince, by submission which they voluntarily made to his power: so are all princes bound again toward their people, to guard, defend and keep them by his power, and to entertain them under the obedience and assurance of conventions, made between them and the laws of the land.  
Upon this debate rose many particular quarrels and partialities, between such as had avouched Christianity, and them that continued idolaters to their false Gods, who having chosen the Prince M●uspasian for their head and governor: withdrew themselves to their houses, and forcibly would deprive them (of the other part) of their houses and possessions, whereby is now grown in Persia a civil war, the most strange and cruel that ever was. For between the inhabitants of on self same kingdom, hath already been seen sundry bloody battles, where on each side are, slain many Christians and Pagans, especially two most signal and markable persons: one on the coast of Tyrisir, where the Christians by the prowess and valiancy of the brave knight Ariodant, won the day, and drove the Infidels in disorder: the other near the city of Tauris, where the Pagans had joined with their forces the aid of the Medes, Syrians, Assyrians, and Arabes, compelled the christians to fly the field, with great loss of their men, to make themselves strong in the cities of Tauris, Susa, and divers other towns beside, where they are at this instant begirt with very sharp siege. So despairing of their former trust in God, the valiant prince Ariodant, determined secretly to leave the city of Tauris, where he was General of the Christians, accompanied only with twelve chosen knights (among whom I was one) to go require aid of the Emperor of Constantinople against the Pagans, with promise to subject to the Christian Empire, all the whole Monarchy of Persia. As we were on the way to effect our voyage, by ill hay we met (about a league hence) a troop of Pagans, consisting of about three hundred men, all well appointed, and knights of mark, who having pitched their pavilions in a meadow that butted hard upon our way: we quickly were descried unto them, and knowing by our Ensigns, as also the badge of the cross (which all of us bore open in our arms) that we were Christians: they cried aloud, that we should pass no further, without speaking to their prince and conductor, who was the puissant king of Thuris, named Adylas, and was there in a very fair large lion, minding to understand what we were, that he might make further inquiry of the Per●●an war. Now albeit this rude summons was grievous to us, yet we durst not refuse to go speak with the king Adylas, persuading ourselves, that although he was a Pagan, yet would 〈◊〉 be no enemy to us, as we were advertised a day before, being in quest of his cousin germane the king of Phez, one of the hardiest knights in the world. He questioned with us concerning the affairs of Persia, wherein the prince Ariodant truly answered him, as also both what he and we were, with the present occasion of our journey: whereupon he would arrest and detain us as prisoners, a thing very irksome to us, and which we were not able to endure, but more gladly would lose our lives, then see ourselves captive in our enemy's hands, and subjecteth to their wills. Hereupon we fell to our best endeavour, that our foes might get no advantage of us, and in such sort did we defend ourselves, that twenty of them were laid dead on the ground, before any of us sustained any jot of harm. Which when the king Adylas perceived, immediately he put himself in arms, and having assembled all his people, assailed us so fiercely, that six or seven of my companions were slain outright, the other taken prisoners, and myself escaped in such plight as you now behold me, but the prince Ariodant I hope is fled like wise.  
Thus hear ye (sir Knight) the estate of my misfortune, for relief wherein, and to revenge my injury received, I desire that we might have one bought more with them, assuring ye for certainty, that whatsoever my harm already is, yet could I employ and bestir myself a fresh: but I see we shall be so feeble, that all our courage will be but frivolous and vain, and accounted as cowardice.  
The wounded Knight having thus spoken, presently fell into a swoon, which greatly grieved Gerileon, who did his best to help him: and having ransacked his golden bottle, wherein the Nymph Olympia brought him the precious ungents, that healed his wounds received from the Polyppe: he got out a little, which he applied to the knight's wound, when soon after he felt himself of more able disposition, and this being done, how they resolved, ye shall read hereafter.   

CHAP. 13.  
Of the adventures that happened to the knights Gerileon and Taffinor, and how after they had slain Argontes, and ten or twelve of the best Knights in the host of Adylas: Gerileon went and took the king himself, and of the conference they had together.  
THe day after the Persian knight had recounted all his adventure to Gerileon, according as ye have read in the former Chapter: they departed from the Polyppes Den, to go combat with Adylas and his people, and albeit imminent death stood before their eyes, yet could nothing withdraw them from such a dangerous enterprise, as not the entreats of Phynander and the fair Orphisa, who by many means laboured to dissuade them to the contrary. For the Fairy knight evermore resolved, not for dread of death to let slip any opportunity, when he might combat or perform any generous act, whence might grow fame and reputation, the only wages for a man of valour and virtue. And as for the Persian knight, it was such despite to him to be vanquished: that as a man half desperate, an hundred times he wished the fatal death, so he might in any sort revenge the shame and injury done him, then fear of death was no matter for him to stand upon. In this inflamed desire, ta●ing their leave of Phynander and Orphisa, (who were very pensive for gerileon's departure, both mounted on the horse of Taffinor, for so was the Persian knights name, having between them but one Lance, which Gerileon bore that sat in the saddle: in this sort they road away, and not far had they travailed, but they met an other horse (ready saddled, the bridle lying upon his neck) softly pacing in the field they road thorough. Taffinor immediately knew the horse, and that one of his companions had been mounted thereon, who being slain by Adylas his Soldiers, ran now ranging from place to place. Taffinor lightly leaping from behind Gerileon, made such shift that he took the horse, and getting quickly up into the seat, they both spurred away with all possible speed. In short time they came to the place where Ariodant and his companions had been discomfited, and Adylas this day intended to dislodge with his pavilions, that he might meet Mauspasian at Tauris, there to deliver such prisoners to him as he had gotten from Ariodant.  
Being come into this place, they were soon espied by one of the knights of the king of Thunis, this knight was named Argontes, one of the most faithful friends to the king, and as valiant as any in all the troup, he being by chance first mounted in this preparation of departure, sitting with a huge strong Lance advanced upon his thigh. This was the first man, that needs would know what these two knights were, who durst with such boldness come so near their host. For this purpose, and without speaking word to any one, he galloped with a swift career towards them, and when he was so near, that he might easily discern them to be strangers: he slacked his pace, when the first he must needs speak● to, was the Fairy knight, to whom arrogantly he thus began. Be stir ye fellows, and come after me to king Adylas my Lord, to tell him of whence ye are, and what ye seek in this place: for I take ye to be spies, sent hither (to work some treason) by these Christians, that are mustered up in the City of Tauris: otherwise I would presently slice ye in such small gobbets, as a Raven might easily bear in his beak the biggest piece of your bodies. Friend, quoth Gerileon, I think ye mean not so ill as ye speak, for no such matter appears in your countenance. But setting a part these terms of bravery, I pray ye go tell king Adylas your master, that here is a knight errant, accompanied with one of those Christian knights, whom lately (both causeless and very shamefully) he monstrously abused. Say I bid him, (if he be a man of worth or any valour) that immediately he come forth in equipage convenable for the combat, and accompanied with such an other: to make this knight amends, and to repair the wrong done to Ariodant, in charging his troup with too much advantage, and thereby intermeddled with affairs neither touching or concerning him. If he will not do it, I say he is a villain and a traitor: for were he not so, he would not offer offence to any one, without hability of means to make requital. By my faith, answered Argontes, thou art a very fool, in coming hither to be killed with credit, and to let thee know, how much better it had been for thee to have kept thee quiet, than travail to this place with such malapert kind of language: I will not suffer that the king my Lord, nor any of his people but myself only, shall teach thee against another time better wisdom, as also to speak more advisedly, and therefore stand upon thy guard. In using these words, he drew back, that his horse might have his course, and he veil his Lance against Gerileon: who made so little account thereof, that he reserved his labour to better effect than the Pagan did, and therefore shrunk aside to scape the attaint. hereat Taffinor was greatly abashed, thinking he did it by cowardice, or fear to meddle with the Pagan, which made him imagine evil of him, and nothing at all to regard him, as Argontes did likewise: who finishing his race to no purpose, prepared toward Taffinor, calling him to the joust, which he refused because he had no Lance. But laying hand to his sword for the combat, he bravely made against the Pagan, who likewise let go his Lance, and drew out his sword to entertain him: which Gerileon perceiving, and doubting the length of their fight would grow too tedious, whil● the Pagans being so near them, might charge them in greater number, than they should be able to deal withal, or withstand, seeing himself likewise unprovided of a sword, for ye have heard how his was broken in combat with the Savage Polyppe: he forthwith determined to kill the Pagan, because he would be possessed of his weapon, which he imagined no hard matter to compass, as in very deed it was not: for running against him with marvelous violence, he gave him such a peazant knock with the butt end of his lance, as overthrew both his horse and him to the ground, and struggling under the horse, that trampled very heavily upon him, there both his pride, arrogancy and life ended all together. This done, Gerileon alighted and took his sword, saying to Taffinor, that therewith he would send more of his companions after him: which Taffinor being not a little joyful to hear, returned this answer. Now have I good hope Sir, that (by your means) I shall be avenged of the outrageous wrongs done me by the Pagans, and were our ●appe so fortunate, that Ariodant would return to secure us, (as thereof I am assured if he be not dead, for he is a prince impatient of injury:) we might easily overcome and vanquish the host of Adylas. For amongst them all himself is most redoubted, being so good and able a knight of person, as there are few in Persia that can equal him in soundness of chivalry: nor could we have been conquered by his soldiers, had not he put to his helping hand.  
In midst of this talk, whilst Gerileon armed himself with the sword of dead Argontes, and Taffinor with his Lance, Adylas caused the Trumpets to be sounded, declaring his departure from the place, where he had been encamped and sojourned so many days together: at which instant he called for Argontes his faithful friend, but he could not be found in all the host, then commanding to understand what was become of him, ten or twelve knights of the troop took the same way, they saw him gallop before. At last they beheld the two Christian knights, riding with unconquerable countenance towards the Tents of Adylas and a little further off they saw Argontes dead, his horse likewise lying beating with his hooves upon him, not able to rise: whereat they were inflamed with such rage, (for Argontes was well and dearly beloved of all Adylas host) as they could no longer contain their fury, but forcibly made against the Christian knights. Against Gerileon four of them broke their Lances, without any further injury unto him: but he had better success, for the first he met, felt so sound the sharpness of his lance, as piercing quite thorough his body, laid him dead on the earth. Two other that ma●e out after these four, began very fiercely to assail Taffinor: but for all that they unhorsed him not, yet one of them received a deadly wound on his shoulder at his hand, and so was forced to fall to the ground. They that came after, having their sword naked in their hands, courageously adventured on the Christian knights, who being ready prepared, received the valiant strokes of the Pagans on their sheelds, without any hurt unto their bodies: marry each of them stood so stiffly to the Pagans, as Gerileon sent one of their heads roundly from his shoulders, and Taffinor slicing off an others arm from his body, made both gerileon's stroke and his own agree in an harmony: for the first Pagan died immediately, and the other caught such a sudden sickness, as his blood abundantly streaming forth, called his life soon after. The rest of their companions were not a little amazed hereat, especially at the puissant strokes of Gerileon, with the exceeding virtue, valiancy and address that they discerned in him, so that six of their fellows lying dead before their faces, the other fearfully fled to the troop of Adylas, that they might to him declare their misfortune: but they were followed even thither by Gerileon and Taffinor, at whose hardiness Adylas stood greatly abashed, and the rather, because (in his presence) Gerileon overtaking two of the tardyest fugitives, from one he lopped the ear, cheek, and shoulder, together, and took off the others head so neatly, as if the kéenest Razor in the world had been the instrument.  
All the troop standing affrighted hereat, durst not budge one foot, but tarried to hear the pleasure of their king, who was surprised with no common kind of pensiveness, imagining that Gerileon was one of the Gods whom he adored, to wit, Mars the God of battles, and (as they supposed) that he was highly displeased with them. When he beheld what havoc the Fairy knight made of his people, he came forth from the midst of his troop, to know for certainty what he was, and if he were one of their gods, with prayers, oblations and sacrifices he would appease his anger: but Gerileon that made no regard of such folly, prepared to endure the brave against all the rest. And for this cause, he entered further in among them with Taffinor, where sundering themselves, no one durst stir to approach near them, for in gerileon's countenance they noted such high resolution, as they reputed him alone able to foil a far greater host of men.  
Even as a lusty Mower in the harvest time, in the midst of a well grown field, with a sharp Scithe in his hand, cuts down the grass and herbs about him in very great quantity: even like ●eare had the Pagans of this noble warrior, verily thinking him to be some celestial deity: and many times had they been brought into such error, for when they beheld any one, who by his haughty deeds seemed to surpass the common valour of men, and had some thing in him to out go other in hardiness: they easily were induced to believe, that this was one of their imaginary Gods. This false persuasion served very well for these two Christians, because if all the troop had risen against them, you quickly may conceive their danger: but the good Angel that conducted them, by the help of God assisted them in such sort, as Adylas alone offered speech to Gerileon, and that in this manner. I pray thee if thou be one of the Gods, whose habitations is in heaven, tell or show me by some sign if I have offended the●, and wherein I have given cause, that thou shouldst thus destroy me and my people: assuring thee, that if by prayers, oblations and sacrifices, thine anger is not to be appeased, and thy fury qualified, thou shalt no sooner be returned to thy celestial mansion, but presently thou shalt in abundance feel, the pleasant perfume and exquisite Sabeene odour, with large gifts in thy Temple, and offerings on thine Altar, by me bestowed to thine honour and glory. Or if thou be some mortal creature, that hast reason thus to come and assail me, killing Argontes my faithful Achates, beside so many of my soldiers: then only tell to me the cause hereof, and assure thyself, that I will repair whatsoever injury, which thou pretendest to have received by me, neither shall any of my men once move to offend thee, for the great valour and virtue I esteem to be in thee. But if without any reasonable occasion, thou hast dared thus boldly to abuse me: thou mayst be well assured, that thou shalt be chastised according to thy deserts. Knight (answered Gerileon) I imagine thee to be the most apparent man of all thy troup, and (as I have heard) thou art called Adylas king of Thunis, a knight very famous and of great reputation as I gather, because I see thee affable and courteous. Wherefore I freely tell thee, that I am none of the supposed Gods thou talkest of, but credit me, I am a knight errant, ignorant of the place where I was borne, and the parents that gave me life: but travail thorough the world, whether fortune and my de●●●●e conducts me, in search of such adventures as merit fame. Not long since, and not far hence, I slew a cruel monster, called the savage Polyppe, where I met this knight, who told me what causeless shame both thou and thy company (being odds of too great advantage) offered a Christian prince called Ariodant, one of whose train he was: thou having discomfited him and his men, detainest some of them as prisoners, which injury he entreated me to revenge, and I have undertaken it both upon thee & thine: for well thou knowest, that by the law of chivalry, inviolably observed among such as are worthy to bear the title of knighthood, all errant knights seeking adventures, are bound to revenge the opprobrious wrongs, that the overstrong offer to the over weak, having no just cause or reason therefore, and to defend them against all forcible violence, indirectly thrown upon miserable and afflicted persons, maintaining evermore the quarrel of the wronged that have no help. Beside, the quarrel (for which thou hast so hardly dealt with Ariodant and his people) is public, touching all good Christians, of which number I am one, and for ever will be: so by consequence it appertaineth to me, inciting me to wreak revenge, for the injury done to my confederates, that are of self same religion as I am, against all that are of the contrary and adversary faith. Because than thou hast nothing else now to do, provide thee, presently to the combat with me, if thou be so desirous as thou hast expressed: for thou seest I have reason to assail thee, and for whatsoever else I have done beside. Having thus spoken, it happened as ye shall read hereafter, for now we are to speak of other matters.   

CHAP. 14.  
Of the war between the Christians and the Pagans that had laid siege before the famous City of London. And how king Angrafolt, prisoner to king Floridamant, became enamoured of the princess Polydamie. And how many sundry sorts of nations, came by heaps to the Pagans Camp for their succour.  
IN this place, the Author of this History discontinueth a while, from speaking of the heroical gests and deeds of the knight Gerileon, to take the discourse again heretofore begun, touching the cruel and bloody war between the Christians and Pagans, that held siege before the proud and famous City of London: ensuing upon that you have read in the former part of this Book, where already hath been told ye, how the hot and fierce assault against the City, under the conduct of furious Angrafolt was ended.  
Now remaineth to acquaint ye, with what happened after the Pagans were chased thence, sustaining so great loss and slaughter of their men, beside their chief heads and conductor Angrafolt and Mycophon being taken prisoners, than thus we proceed. The night after this marvelous assault against the good and virtuous king Floridamant, doing a deed becoming a king that feared God and loved his people, as every prince that is called to so high dignity ought do, seeing and knowing, how without help of the celestial bounty, he was in most great danger of total ruin, (which had been no small hurt to all Christendom) also that as yet he had some advantage of his enemies, having subjecteth one of the principal heads to his will, and an other of the best knights in all their troup: he would not now show himself slothful, but perform the act of a good Christian, by yielding thanks and praises to God, with entreatance to continue towards him and his people, these favourable effects of his almighty goodness, chiefly in a quarrel so just and equitable, as was the cause of this severe and outrageous war.  
To this end, the same night that each was retired from the fight, he commanded the bells in all the Churches of the City to be ●noled, to assemble and call together all his people, from the highest to the lowest that had knowledge of God: willing them to render dutiful thanks to God, praying that in mercy he would assist them, against his unbelieving enemies who would not acknowledge him: which every one did very devoutly, and there was no holy place throughout the City, where lamps, torches, and tapers, were lighted, but the people flocked thither in exceeding number. And for this purpose, the aforenamed places were presumed with incense and Aromatical odours, beside the musical and melodious voices of Priests, monks, singing children, and other servants of God, who with hearts full of heavenly devotion, sung Canticles of praise, with prayers agreeable and pleasing to God. Continuing thus well near all the night, such as were more apt for war, sailed not to be on the walls in their glittering Armour, to impeach the enemy, that he should presume so prowdlye as the day before he had done: in which time, they that were in guard and kept the night watch, went to thank God, and afterwards to their rest.  
Angrafolt, whom king Floridament had taken prisoner, seeing all these things, admired the marvelous foresight of the king, the industry, care and vigilance he used, for preparation of the cities defence and people: when well he perceived, that many of the Pagans should lose their lives, before they could vanquish the people beloved of God: but beyond all other things, he was astoned at the sight of the fair Infant Polydamie, who by commandment of the king her father, entertained him benignly, and showed him good countenance: because the king had determined to entreat and use him with such contentment, as the force of his kindness and benignity, might mollify the hard cruelty of his enemies. And so making them (against their nature) soft and gentle, they might be induced to use humanity & courtesy, to four worthy Christian knights, Accial of Surrie, Ramelin of Uuich, Melchior or Ireland, and Frangard County of Durford, whom the Giant Brisard and Rongemont had taken prisoners in combating. For this cause he persuaded Angrafolt, to write unto king Grandowin his father, to use those four hardy knights so kindly as might be: which he did, fearing if they misdealt with the Christians, by over sharp or inhuman severity, like rigour would be used towards him, and he should be as cruelly tormented. Hear upon the Pagans did not put them to death, as otherwise they would have done, for the lives of these four valiant knights was desired of king Floridamant, more than the death of five hundred of his enemies, considering the present necessity he was in.  
And although Angrafolt (before his taking) was above all other a fierce and cruel adversary against him, yet now he was so overcome by the courtesy and kindness of the king used toward him: as more gladly would he continue in this prisonment, then return again to his companions, for in such sort was he arrested by the fair Infant's beauty, which in his eye excelled all other he had seen before, as made him more desirous to abide in this fair prison: so that when liberty was offered him, he had no will to forego this sweet servitude. For ye must understand, that beyond her natural perfection, which was no less absolute than I have told ye: she was adorned with such sumptuous garments, jewels and other tricks of embellishment, as like stately princesses are accustomed to wear, that the barbarous king feeling himself altogether surprised with her love, desired nothing more, then daily to live in contemplation of her good graces: and albeit thereby he received some pleasure and contentment, yet was it a grief and martyrdom to him to enjoy nothing else, his amorous conceit being unable to compass any other effect, than this vain imagination and fantastical contemplation, so lying figured in his heart. And if by chance he dreamt on some little show of hope, that persuaded him he should enjoy the pleasant skirmishes of love: yet presently again was he killed and discomforted: not unlike the angry and arrogant boothaling Pirate, that was w●nte to tyrannize and triumph over poorer thieves than himself, seeing he is (for some offence by him committed) bond fast by the leg with a chain, blames the hour of his birth, exclaiming on God and his justice, without any fear or regard of his supreme greatness.  
Even so was this proud Pagan tormented, and in his torment oftentimes to himself, he imagined some subtle and detestable mean, whereby he might ravish the young and tender princess, or forcibly carry her away: When she (good Lady) without any thought of evil or malice, used him most graciously and courteous, evermore showing him friendly and smilying countenances, and (according as the king her father had given in charge) would many and sundry times, entertain him with honest talk and familiar conference: which more and more served to provoke forward his love, and from mild amorous conceit to make him more violent, inducing this cruel enemy to an evil and pernicious intent, such as hereafter ye shall know more of. For in this Chapter I must tell ye what chanced (mean while) in the enemies Campe. whether safely were retired (as ye have read in the first book) the king Guittard of Baccaleos and the Carybes, who had been in the thickest of the hurly-burly: and not a little offended were they, to be thus shamefully driven and repulsed from their enterprise.  
It is necessary then that we consider, how almighty God doth sometime send afflictions on the good, to make trial of their perseverance in well doing, supporting with patience the adversities wherewith they are exercised: so it seemed now, that he would permit the Pagans of all countries far and near, to assemble together with their inexpugnable forces, to pervert and ruinated altogether the estate of Christendom, whereof the kingdom of England was the great and strongest colour. For the day after this marvelous assault, there arrived in the enemy's camp for their help and succour, a great multitude of their allies and confederates, such as had vowed with them the eversion and total ruin of Christendom. Among others there came a Captain sent by the king of the Turks, named Grimoaldo, a man hardy and valiant of person: who conducted under his Ensigns fifty thousand brave fight men, and in good quipage. He with his troup was welcomed and received by the heads of the Pagan army, especially of the old king Grandowin, who feasted and entertained him in the best manner he could devise, for he kn●w well, that this Grimoaldo was a man of mark, as skilful in feats of arms as any in all the host. He caused him to he lodged in the rearguard of his Camp, whereof he was the head and governor, and this fresh supply made the Heathen so glad and joyful, as nothing was heard among them but sounding of Tabourines, Trumpets, and other warlike instruments, expressing no little joy and pleasure amongst them, with menaces against them of the City, of quick discomfiture and extermination.  
This joy endured a great many days together, and as their succour increased, so did their iovissance, for beside this Turkish Captain, there came a puissant and marvelous Pagan, of monstrous form and Gi●ntine stature, a proud monster, mutinous, and a mighty drinker. He had three heads or faces upon on neck that supported them all, and when he entered the Camp, he wore a massy Crown of gold, triple formed according to his heads: the crowns were made high like the Turrets of a strong Tower, and underneath was written this verse.  
I am Triphon, the great and puissant king of Scythia,  
The most valiant and strongest, in combat I conquer.  
This arrogant and proud subscription was no leasing, for he was so strong and puissant, as himself was able to foil a whole Army: and therefore to this assembly he brought with him but ten thousand combatants, with whom he thought himself sufficient to subjugate all Christendom. And the cause why he ●are these three crowns, was not in respect of his three faces so combine together: but because he was king of three kingdoms, and held three cruel kind of people under his obe●sance, to wit the Ge●es, the Seythians, and the Sarmates or Sauromates. He showed in the midst of his troup, as a great high Pine tree in the midst of a little wood, where the branches being but young and tender, do begin to spread: for beside his unmeasurable ●●ature, he was mounted on a furious bull of exceeding height, more prompt and apt to bear a saddle, run and career, than any horse that was to be found in the world, as fit was he likewise either for the joust or combat: because if the Pagan seated on his back overthrew his adversary, the bull immediately with his horns would beat down the horse, whereon the knight that fought against him was mounted. In this manner, environed with his men, e●●red he the Pagans camp, many of them being surprised with marvelous fear, to see him of such a terrible aspect and furious ●orme.  
The other that were of better spirit and courage, knew well, that his arrival would be greatly succourable to them, because his force and valiancy was unspeakable and invincible, far beyond any other humane strength. And he that joyed most to see him, was the arrogant and fierce Brandissant, who sent for him, and at his request he came: for they two had long before been companions together, in many robberies and cruelties by them done jointly, and by their association, forcibly, violently and thorough tyranny, they had gotten kingdoms, many rich booties and heritage's, which they divided between them as brethren, that part the common herritage of their Father when he is deceased.  
So by reason of the wunted familiarity and acquaintance that the one of them had with the other, they used many sundry ceremonial embracings to each other, being glad they had so fortunately met in this place, where they assured themselves of the pillage and spoil, of the famous and wealthy City of London, beside the rich treasure of king Floridamant, after they had used towards him and his people, the like or more bloodier cruelty, than ever the Grecians in times past did show to Priam and his warlike Troyans.  
And surely this good Christian king was very sad and sorrowful in his heart, seeing himself so weak against such a puissant army, wherein were so many hardy and strong knights, as but few like them could be found through the whole world, and above all the rest this monster of Scythia was most redoubted, in that he was most to be feared for his force and cruelty: yet notwithstanding, putting his trust in God, the walls of his city being strong and well appointed, he was patient in this peril, expressing marvelous hardiness in his countenance, encouraging his people with fair speeches and exhortations, that by their generous acts and behaviour, they should be vigilant and careful for the defence of the city, giving them to understand by worthy examples, how religiously every subject stood bound to their king and country in that behalf.  
The enemies on the contrary side (for the reasons already declared) were so merry and io●●nd, as through their camp was nothing but songs of joy and pleasure, drunken pastimes, beastly gourmandising, and such like insolences: for beside the succour before rehearsed, came to the Pagan host two strong and puissant kings from the coast of Barbary, the one named Phoas king of Alger, and the other Orontes king of Morocco, both cousins germane, and kin in the same degree to Adylas king of Thunis, and to the king of Phez whom we spoke of before, being of no less force and valour than those two. Withal they brought in their company a great multitude of armed men, good archers bearing Persian Bows and arrows, with poysonned heads, the number of their men was forty thousand.  
By these means it seemed, that God being angry and displeased with his people, would now thoroughly scourge them, suffering in so short time, such a mighty power of enemies to be assembled: whereof here I purpose to speak no more, but in the following Chapter you shall hear what happened.   

CHAP. 15.  
How the Pagans rejoicing for the succour, that thus came daily to them from all parts: the prisoner Angrafolt had mind of nothing, but the love of the fair Princess Polydamie. In mean while, the old Grandowin assembled his council of sixteen puissant kings, who concluded on an unjust resolution: whereof king Floridamant made no account, but minded to defend himself, and withstand the furious assaults of his enemies. And how he heard tidings of help from Spain and France.  
ALl the Pagan Arm●e being in this joy and metriment, for the new supplies that came to them, as before ye have heard, some hoping to load themselves with rich bootless and pillage, others in the destruction of the English Cities and towns, which greedy desire made them to undertake this war, and this they would obtain, or die in pursuit thereof, (as at this day too many are found of like disposition) others incited and inflamed with desire of honour, but they were very few in number to the former sort, wishing for speedy fight with king Floridamants hardy and valiant knights, the conquest of whom would bring them immortal reputation, and this desire especially made them be seen in this war, because many of their friends and kindred were slain in the assault before the City, and for their deaths they had reason to seek revenge: but above the rest, the old king Grandowin, chief of this Army, the most ancient and malicious enemy in the troup, appeasing his conceived grief, for the imprisonment and captivity of Angrafolt his eldest son: quickly sent him word of these good news, and how day by day there came to him from many places fresh supplies, whereof if I should here make report, it would require a very large discourse: nevertheless, in running thorough the progress of these affairs and state of this war, he may gather some, brief particularity hereafter. And to admit comparison, not Alexander, Darius, Xerxes, no not the Romans', nor the Greeks' before Troy, assembled so many fight men together at one instant, as now was before the City of London: so that according to general opinion, especially of the besteged, it was held for certainty, that all the kingdom of great Britain was ruined and lost.  
Of all these things was Angrafolt advertised, and exhorted to work some mean● of secret commotion within the City, if he could devise any way whereby to compass it: but this twofold taken prisoner, made full reckoning of all these news and advertisements, his thoughts only at some secret cogitation, how or which way he might most commodiously steal away the young princess Polydamie, or otherwise gain some amorous iovissance, the only medicine for his languishing passions, which continually mastered his wunted humours: making sometime a courteous and affable knight contrary to his nature, and sometime again so drowned in melancholy, as the sight of any one but his fair mistress offended him. A thing questionless very strange, that he who was such a savage and cruel enemy to all humanity, not to be conquered by any kind means, whose former desires aimed at nothing, but to see himself in the midst of a battle, holding his bloody Lance or Courtla●e in his hand, burning with inflamed affection of fight without measure: should now be so subjecteth to the looks of a soft and delicate maiden, carrying him daily (as it were) bound after her, without thinking either on battle, armour, sword, shield, horse or 〈◊〉 his mind was how to confer familiarly with Polydamie, or counting it a chief felicity to be in sight of her, for all things else were death to his amorous desires.  
Grandowin in mean while (being ignorant of this unexpected accident) one day called an assembly of his kings and such as were the chief of his army, to the Pavilion where council was accustomed to be holden: to the end they might diligently deliberate on their present affairs, and by what means they were likeliest to gain home again their prisoned friends. At this council there met about fifteen or sixteen puissant kings, all wearing Crowns, and were placed according to their ancient honour and degrees. The first was king Brandissant, next, the puissant Tryphon king of Scythia, king Tauladas, king Guittard of Baccaleos, king Marton of Cantabres, king Phoas of Alger, Orontes king of Morocco, king Grimoaldo, king Pagotroff, king Salazard, king Kambarell, the strong king Zorlet, Borant king of Carybe, Maurus king of Bohemia, with the proud and arrogant king Phorban of Moeotides, a brave Pagan, and a worthy knight. All these being assembled, to set down some resolution touching their business, after they had long debated on diversity of opinions, such as were severally delivered in council: they concluded in the end to write to king Floridamant, that within three days following he should come unto them, and bring with him the two prisoner's Angrafolt and Mycrophon, commanding him to be guide to the prisoners himself, accompanied with the best knights that then were in the City, six in number. Likewise to bring two hundred of the fairest maidens, all Virgins, and of marriageable years, not exceeding fifteen or sixteen● at the most, that they might use their pleasure with them. In mean while, to send all the riches and treasure, which both himself and his Citizens had in their most secret confers or cabinets, for search whereof, they would send five hundred of their Soldiers into the City: and ever after it should continue as a yearly tribute to the chief of their Army, twenty Virgins of noble family and exquisite beauty, beside two Millions of Gold.  
Moreover, he and his knights should come bare headed, and without any armour, to ask parden of great king Grandowin for the death of his sons, in revenge whereof this war was commenced: withal, that he and his knights should voluntarily submit themselves to his mercy, that he might dispose of their lives and goods as seemed best to him: when peradventure he would take pity on them, not putting them to death so cruelly, nor race the City, nor murder all the rest of his people, as otherwise he intended to do, (if he denied their demand) with such ruin and desolation, as never was mention made of the like.  
To carry these news of this fair resolution, was immediately dispatched a messenger toward king Floridamant, to whom the gate of the City was presently opened, to understand the cause of his coming: and having performed what he imagined concerning his devoir, delivering the before named Letters to the king: whereupon his majesty grew presently into exceeding great anger and rage: yet cunningly shadowing his conceived displeasure, he made no other answer to the messenger, but that his intent was not to accomplish and perform any of those several demands, in that they were over injurious and unreasonable, and not to be allowed of in any wise.  
Beside that (he said) if his enemies either had or should set down such a resolution concerning his ruin and destruction: he with his council and Nobles were concluded to stand on their defence, in resistance of the least evil that might ●e. For the rest, each one should do their uttermost endeavour, according as himself hither to had done, and never yet could any enemy compel him to matters against his will, wherefore it was too late for him now to begin: and so (quoth he to the messenger) ye may return with this answer. Which presently he did, whereat the Pagans greatly marveled, that a man having so few to help him, should contain such hardiness, as to talk to them of resistance: above all the rest, old Grandowin was extremely enraged, saying, that this was not the first act, wherein appeared the effects of king Floridamants oure-wéening, wherefore he would speedily take such order with his people, as should sharply make him repent his folly and rashness.  
Whereupon, within three days following at the most, each one should prepare himself ready to arms, when such an assault should be made against the city, as not one stone should be left standing upon another, but be razed and extermined altogether. In regard whereof, every one should withdraw himself to his quarter, and give order for all things needful against the day of assault. Hereof the Christian king being advertised, commanded the Pagan Mycrophon to be closely locked up, to the end that during this troublesome time, he might compass no mean of working any treachery or treason. But as for the king of Corpse, he restrained not him of liberty, which he had to walk within the walls of the Palace royal, where was room sufficient and very spacious: well perceiving that he was so carried away with the love of his daughter, with whom and the Queen Bellizene he still kept company, assuring them, that he would expose himself rather for their defence then offence: and in respect of the conversation he had had with them, no injury should be offered to their honour.  
In which speeches the Queen reposing some confidence, but the maiden especially: the more willingly they would converse with him, and among other familiar conferences, the Queen made him recount the number of strange nations, the diversity of kings and great captains that were in their Army, their estate, forces and deeds of chivalry, by them in former times performed▪ By which reports they cunningly gleaned from this imprudent Pagan, what best might serve for the defence of the City, and thorough overmuch talk, he discovered how, on which side, and by what secret means, the enemies had concluded to assail and seize on the City: withal he declared to them, the manner and custom that those nations were wont to observe and use in such war, which was most likeliest, and which not.  
By these means king Floridamant had knowledge of many things, that served as special rules of discipline to his Court of guard, and therefore appointed his men in readiness against the threatened day: continually travailing day and night with Grandilaor, Fertand, Candior, Sylban, and other hardy knights of name that were in the City with him, who (according to his command) busied themselves very carefully, letting nothing slip that any way concerned their change. During which time, one night secretly arrived at the City wall, the two valiant knights, Andregon Duke of Suffolk, and Lampridion County of Norfolk, both Cousin's germane, and highly beloved of king Floridamant. The first came from demanding help for the Christians, of Dorian king of Spain, and the other from the like affairs in the kingdom of Gaul, whether they were sent, before the Pagan army had engirt the City with siege, and both returning at one self same time, after many adventures befalling them in the expedition of their voyages, met together on the way, and so travailing in company, arrived there about the hour of midnight, not being espied by any of the enemy's Camp, who then were in their dead sleep, and coming to the foot of the wall, on that side, where the king of the Suitzers had charge, and where as then a good Citizens was Sentinel one of the richest and best Soldiers of the City, being called Hoaster, that knew them very well, because he had familiarly frequented the houses of these two Christian knights, and and they well perceiving, that Hoaster knew them by their speech, sent presently word of their arrival to king Floridamant, who caused the nearest gate of the city to them to be opened, when they safely entered, not being at all discovered by the enemy. He that came from Spain advertised his majesty, how king Dorian understanding his war against the Pagans, concluded immediately to come himself in person, attended on by a strong and puissant army, to assist king Floridamant his old companion, and the christian people that inhabited great Britain: for which cause he summoned a meeting of his subjects, promising to be in England in very short time. These tidings brought Andregon, and Lamprydion delivered the like from king Belligand of Gaul how forward he was in devoir to send him secure, his army being leveyed and ready to departed, and had ●re then set forward, but that the king daily expected the Prince Diodamas his son, a man of great valour, who had not long before received his order of knighthood: being gone in quest of an other knight, that had in his keeping a Fairy Lance, where of he had robbed the king his father, which Lance he heard was again recovered by the young prince, and he returning home ward, when being come, he should away to England with the army. For these glad tidings king Floridamant thanked God, trusting in him and to the speeding supply each hour expected: resolving to defend himself if he should be assailed, without any issuing forth to the enemy, neither to sight, except he should be enforced there unto, until these Armies were joined with him. Attending which time, he thought good to prolong day of the assault, keeping their enemies in breath, and these affairs in good foresight: which to comp●sse, he thought on every likely and expedient remedy, as ye may perceive in the Chapters following.   

CHAP. 16.  
How the Princess Polydamie, beholding from the height of a Tower, the Camp and countenance of the Pagans, was shown by Angrafolt, who were the chief commanders in so great a multitude. And the Princess, seeing the Scythian monster, swooned with conceit of fear, when Angrafolt conveyed her thence into the Queen's chamber.  
Mean while, to find some mean of deferring the general assault, which the Pagans in their council had determined against the City of London: king Floridamant consulted with the hardy knights of his council, and other noble personages, that then were in the City with him to receive advise from them, what best might be done ●or defence of the Christians against all events, wanting honest excuses to delay the day of battle, and tarris for the supply which was coming. The Pagans on the other side disposed their men (being many in number) to assail the besieged, forca●●ing all the best ways and m●anes for the same that might be possible. And as these affairs passed on in this sort, the fair Infant Polydamie being on the top of a high Tower of the palace royal, where she might behold the confused and bade ordered multitude of enemies: saw them marching forth of their pavilions, which were erected a pretty way off from the ●ittie, that they might to rain themselves nearer, where the Archers, Crossbows and Slings might eastlie reach the town with their shafts and stones: as in those times the Pagan nations knew how to use the same, as well in assailing as in defending, or where they soon might come to handy gripes, or make some sudden surprise in the night, whereat the beautiful maid was greatly abashed. But had they been assembled there, to some better purpose than they were, she might have conceived exceeding pleasure, in beholding so many goodly Ensigns or Guydons, such rich gilt glistering armour, so many pikes and lances, so many brave Captains well furnished, so many hardy knights well mounted in equipage, so many Drums, fifes, and Trumpets, which with warlike noise cheered up the soldiers hearts: as one would have said, seeing the footmen leap and dance so merrily, and the horsemen carryre so bravely, that they rather were prepared for a wedding then the fight: yet notwithstanding this pleasing sight, she cursed them in her mind, desiring better pastime, and more agreeable to her contentment.  
Continuing in this displeased thought and contemplation, Angrafolt the king of Corpse came up to her, having long sought her in many chambers of the Castle, and not finding her, ye may guess his grief by his humour: for he was so passionate and impatient in his love, that being absent from the fair Infant's sight, he could enjoy no rest, wherefore finding her by herself, after he had so long sought her in every likely place: judge ye whether he were pleased or no, and the Princess contrariwise displeased, to be alone in such a place, far from the Queen's company and the other Ladies, with such a mighty enemy to her modesty, which (as she well knew) be sought all means to attempt: yet feeling himself to be a prisoner, fearing likewise to raise any further offence in his enemies against him, and especially being overruled by the force of love, which made him so mild and gentle as I told 〈◊〉 before, he used such rega●● of the Princess, as not so much as with a look or a word, he would be drawn to use any force or violence towards her. Which when the Lady noted, with a benign and gracious welcome, wishing him to abandon those melancholy humours, she entreated him to show and tell her particularly, who and what were the chiefest leaders in that multitude. And seeing a chariot 〈◊〉 bedecked with gold and silver, drawn by four lusty 〈◊〉 Coursers bravely caparosonued, wherein sat an ancient knight, his herded white, and countenance reverend, environed with a goodly troup of horsemen, that road before him along the field, all showing duty to him, and rainging which way he pleased: she was desirous to know the estate of this old man, whom first her eyes had taken view of, wherefore she thus began.  
I pray ye sir knight, if ye bear me such love as ye have made speech of: tell me truly what this old man is, that rides in such rich and fair a Chariot, to sport himself along the Ca●pe. Lady, quoth Angrafolt, I shall willingly tell ye without fabling, for in obeying your command, I would make no spare of my life, much less than deny to satisfy ye in this. Among these matters of so great importance, know madame, that this is the puissant king Grandowin my father, chief of all this great multitude of men by him levied, in his youth he hath done many fair 〈◊〉 and worthy deeds of memory, and although (by reason of his years) he is not as he hath been ready in force and prowess for the fight: yet is he so wise and politic in council, concerning these affyres of warr●, a Prince 〈◊〉 rich, opulent and redoubted withal, as all the Pagan nations stand in awe of him, respecting only his commandment. All these which you see here, are 〈◊〉 for his defence (the renown of his virtue and 〈◊〉 being so spread through the world) are all at his direction, to fight, 〈◊〉 cities, or what else beside, and 〈◊〉 are they to learn 〈…〉 Then tell me sir, quoth she, what is yonder portly knight of stature, whose countenance appeareth so proud and arrogant, that with his great black Courser fetcheth such 〈…〉 having so rich and fair a plume of 〈◊〉 blue and white in the treast of his Helmet, answering the same in colour that are on his horses head: his Beaver being open, makes me conjecture by the small sight of his face, that he should be a man of high resolve, and in martial: enterprises a courageous warrior. Beside, if 〈◊〉 ●ye deceive me not, he somewhat resembles yourself in countenance, the colour of your hair nothing differing: for his arms, as I guess standing so far off, he bears in his shield three bloody rampant Lions in a field blue.  
He● whom ye speak of Madam, answered Angrafolt, ●ée●ing to hardy and magnanimous, is my brother Brandissan●, a man replete with wonderful prowess, valiant and ready at arms beyond all the rest of the army, a rich and mighty prince both in lands and treasure, who in his tender youth held such war against his enemies, as ouer●●●●●ing and vanquishing them, he conquered with all sundry 〈◊〉 and 〈…〉 rich and fertile, well garnished with people, borne and brought up to follow the wars. But he (quoth Polydamie) whom I behold yonder a little on the left hand, who priding in the course of his horse, makes him career toward king Brandissant your brother: he ●eares in his shield ●oure Giants, and the figure of a monster dead or 〈◊〉 as I 〈◊〉 by the painting, and there stands a knight 〈◊〉 in the conquest: what is he? and what are those other three that follow in the same course, all seeming to be of one mind or disposition. They are (quoth Angrafolt) four great Pagan princes, the subjects and servants to king Brandissant my brother: the first of them is called Solazard, that bears the monster and the Giants slain, as ye perceive by the painting in his shield, those in times past he alone vanquished in a fought field.  
He is a rich and puissant Lord, a man of great valour and address at arms, and by reason of his prowess worthy estimation: though he were deformed and of monstrous fashion, as ye might see if he were unarmed. The other likewise that follow, are knights of mark and great reputation, the one, is king of Nivarie, a rich and opulant kingdom, that with one Lance, brought to death thirty Cantabres, when king Brandissant my brother made war upon them, wherefore at this day he bears them all depainted in his shield, as ye might behold, if the green shadow were away wherewith it is covered. As for the other two, they are the valiant Cambarell and Pag●traff, Kings of the junonian Isles, in riches and valour they are not equal to their two former brethren, but in age only and nothing else: and further of in midst of the troop, where ye see yond multitude of goodly pavilions, are their people, tarrying but when they shall be ranged in order for the assault: toward king Grandowin are they now marching, to understand his advise and council, in what place they should assemble, while the rest of their company being merrily disposed, fall to such pastimes as martial men are wunte to exercise.  
And fronting that troup, ye may behold my six Giants, which show so high above the other, as steeples in a city overpéere the lowest buildings: and they are prepared (as they were when I mastered them) to resist a very puissant army. But what is he, quoth the princes, on the right hand, that rides on the roan Courser, managing a strong lance upon his thigh, clad in black Armour graven all over with gold, glittering so bravely as he rides to an other troup some what further off.  
You mean he Madam, said Angrafolt, that bears three golden Suns in his shield, deciphered in a green field, and bordered round about with purest gold? He I mean, answered the Princess, that talks with another knight of like appearance, hard by the multitude, mounted on a sorrel Courser, with a very strong Lance in his hand, and in his shield three Leopards heads in a Sable field. It is, replied the Corsean prince, the worthy king Tauladas of Canada, a man wonderful a●●able and debonair, albeit no less hardy with sword or Lance, than any other in all the Camp: even so is he with whom you see him talking▪ the redoubted Barant king of Carybe, they both being come to associate this war, rather for proof of man to man in combat, (against king Floridamant your father, the fame of whose renowned virtues called them hither) then any desire to do him hurt or damage: but true it is, that to fortify our Camp, they have brought with them from their countries and kingdoms, great store of armed men and well appointed. I am much deceived, said the princess, if he whom I see standing with his face toward us, be n●t some Pagan king of great name▪ he I mean, that now marcheth 〈…〉, all bearing Ensigns or Guydons of divers colours in their hands, and he riding somewhat aloof before them, on a horse more white than any Swan, harnessed with ●●mosin veluit, the ●●uddes and buckles of perfect gold: and if mine eyes fail me not, he 〈◊〉 three 〈…〉 shield, and those I take to be his arms.  
Madame, answered the Pagan, I did not well note his countenance, beacuse he suddenly turned back toward his 〈…〉 but if he bear such arms as you speak of it 〈…〉 Marton, king of Biscay or 〈…〉 (among other things) to conduct men of war on the Seas, where in our coming hither he was chief leader of all our Army, having the whole government and charge thereof, by reason of the great valour abiding in him, and long experience in many affairs: they that follow him are all knights of esteem, whose charge is to manage the Ensigns and Standards in the ships.  
I have not yet seen, said the Princess Polydamie, two more brave and comely knights, than these two that ride hitherward, each on a black Steed, marked alike with white in their foreheads, their backs and legs richly harnessed with green velvet: one of them bears two Columns in his shield, figured in an Azure field: the other a flourishing branch of Roses, carrying their lively Roses in a golden field, and each hath in his hand a javelin pointed with gold, and garnished with silver studs: their horses troth alike, both of one 〈◊〉 and height, I am 〈◊〉 they are none of the meanest in your company, I pray ye sir tell me what they are. These two (Madam) are arrived here since I was taken, but as I have heard by messages from my noble father, they are the two princes Orentes and Phoas, the one king of Morocco, the other of Alger, two neighbouring kingdoms on the coast of Barbary, abounding in riches and treasure, so likewise of their persons they are as hardy and valiant as any in the world, and as heavy enemies to the Christians and their religion, the express cause of their coming hither, to hurt and destroy them so much as possibly they may.  
As the Corsean king held on this speech to the princess, the kings Maurus and Phorbon, and between them the monstrous Tryphon king of Scythia, Gotia, Sarmata, and Geta, came forth of their pavilions to dorayne their people, and as the young Lady noted their gestures and countenance, intending to enquirs what they were, c●●●ing her eyes upon the Scythian Mou●●er, mounted and equipped in such form and manner as before I have told ye: she was so surprised with fear at the very sight of him, her heart being tender, dainty and delicate, as giving a loud shriek, she fell in a swoon or trance, which the Pagan king perceiving, and dreading some wurs' inconvenience would ensue: he took her up in his arms, and carried her thence very gently and modestly into the Queen's Chamber, where he declared the occasion of her fear, and continued to them the discourse of those three before named kings: which the Ladies heard very attentively, and while the Pagan bethinks himself where to break off his discourse, here think I good to conclude this Chapter.   

CHAP. 17.  
How king Floridamant having assembled his Council, to receive advise from the chief of his friends, and well wellers, concerning what was best to be done in this necessity: After he had heard the diversity of their opinions, in the end he set down his rest on the council of the wise and aged duke Candior of Normandy.  
KIng Floridamant was all this while in Council, to be advised (as I told ye in the former chapter) how he might best delay the assault, and by likely mean de●erre it, till the expected aid from Gaul and Spain were arrived. In which council, there were many of different and contrary opinions, for some thought good to temporize a while without fight, until they should be somewhat stronger, to endure so sharp and cruel an assault as the Pagans intended against them; because in very deed they were over-weake, to withstand so fierce a charge as was like to be offered, for if their mishap should be such (as the issue of fights and batta●les is most certainly uncertain) to be vanquished, and the City taken in the assault: the hoped for supply so long attended, were vain, and would profit them nothing after their death, for hardly should they become conquerors after they were conquered, therefore the counsel of stay was reputed most honest, and without any show of cowardice of these doubtful means to choose one.  
Or else to send a Letter to the heads and chief of the Pagan Camp that if twelve such knights as they could choose in their Camp, even the very bravest, where of they had great numbeer, (except the mighty king Tryphon of Scythia) durst enterprise the combat in field enclosed, with what arms they would, against king Floridamant, and eleven such knights as he would elect for his company: if in this combat they happened to be victors, king Floridamant would obey the decrees and conditions by them before proposed, satisfying whatsoever they demanded by their messenger. But if the conquest turned to king Floridamant and his Knights, the Pagans should be bound to deliver their four valiant prisoners, and departed with bag and baggage, not offering injury or displeasure to any Christian. For assurance of which conventions, the prisoners on either side should remain hostages, until the vanquished had obeyed to such order as they had thus promised by invioble oath.  
Otherwise they were of opinion, to enforce the Pagan prisoner write to them, with whom his credit was so great, and whose loss the king Grandowin greatly feared, because extremely he loved his Children: that so soon as they began to assault the city, the Christians were minded cruelly to put them to death. Others humours were far contrary here to, and said, it were more necessary to incite the Corsean king, to write rather of a treaty of marriage with the king's daughter, being become so amorous of her, as he could gladly elect her as his wife: and while they should consider on this marriage contract, it might be a mean of peace with Floridamant, for the city were to stand free from the least molestation, until he secretly understood his father's will, whether it should be a marriage or no, for which season they might lawfully require a truce or peace: thus feigning some forwardness in themselves to this marriage, they should induce the Pagan to write the more willingly. But king Floridamant, who had his spirit more vigilant and diligent about his affairs, and for the conservation of his honour: reputed these opinions (of the king Grandilaor and Ferrand, with the princes Andregor and Lampridion, who had thus conferred together) to be very strange and far from reason: wherefore he addressed himself to grave old Candior of Normandy, desirous to understand if he were so minded or no, whereto the Duke thus answered.  
My Lord, I have ever esteemed and accounted the kings Ferrand and Grandilaor, as also the Duke of Suffolk and County of Nor●●olke, to be hardy and courageous knights, above all in your court, their deeds have been very generous, and full of high chivalry, as by very honourable effects they have been manifested to me: but I tell ye boldly in their presence (seeing it is your pleasure) without any flutterie, that 〈◊〉 I had not good and certain knowledge of them, yea, had not mine eyes seen in many encounters, the undoubted proof of their valour and virtue: hearing them of such opinion in these affairs, questionless I should think them other then they are, or else dreading doubt of the danger wherein we now are, hath made them use these terms of fear, ●ather to the loss of your estate, so many good citizens, women and young children as are in this city, than any hazard of their own persons. Therefore whatsoever 〈◊〉 thereon, I may not follow their advise, for many reasons and considerations, which if it please you, and all the assistants, to listen with favourable ears, I will describe unto ye. In the first place, if we should write to our enemies and defy certain of them in combat against like number of ours: they presently would conceive opinion, that all our strength and valour consisted in the hardiness of a dozen men, which might be easy for them to discomfit, and no other hope remaineth now for us, where as yet hither to they have been of a far contrary mind. For howsoever ready they be to assail us, they imagine us to be a greater number than we are, as ye may gather by so many likelihoods lately seen, disposing their camp into so many and sundry places, all to hinder our issuing forth upon them by day or night: the rest in far fewer number, are ranged into four direct places, where best they may make their assault. far better it is for us it should be so, then otherwise, because if all were prepared to assail us, we should find ourselves more severely 〈◊〉, than we can do by the order that is now disposed: and this will fall out for certain, if we writ to our enemies as these good Lords have advised.  
Secondly, whereas we would combat, as it is thought meet to be demanded, or else we will do or can do nothing: if we be so desirous of the combat, twelve against twelve, we shall bring ourselves into very great hazard. For it is necessary to consider, as ever more in taking things at the 〈◊〉, that be it we gain or we lose the battle, we shall be sure every way to lose: because in a case of victory, we can take no assurance of our enemy's ●aith, they having none at all. Nor are we anyio●e to trust the 〈◊〉 prisoners, which we have in our custody, by reason they have more of ours, whom we prise and esteem more them they do or can do theyr●. Beside, they have among them divers nations of contrary 〈◊〉, some of them (against the will of the 〈◊〉) may 〈◊〉 upon our twelve knights, and murder them, if they be not miraculously preserved from so great danger: and which is more▪ what likelihood can be gathered, that twelve men, the chief and head of a sufficient great and puissant army, should go forth to hazard the lives and liberty of so many persons? where being united together within the City, and fenced round about with strong walls, me thinks, that although all the Pagans in the world were here assembled to enforce us, yet should it be impossible for them. And before they can get entry, their siege will be longer than that of Troy was, but we must make no issue out upon them, neither will we any way condescend to this combat: for it were but a faint hearted trick, if they should take us at our word, and we ourselves afterward glad to refuse it, this for ever will redound to our great shame and dishonour, which we should rather fly then the loss of our lives. Now for constraining the Pagan prisoner to write any thing thereby to respite and delay the assault, I mislike that more than the other, because we ought not use any force or violence against a prisoner, urging him to write any matter whatsoever, that may be prejudicial to him or his: lest that our enemies who are Pagans, and in whom yet never appeared any spark of loyalty or fidelity (as well we know) should intend some thing against our prisoner, both hurtful unto them and us, and I am of opinion, that if unbelieving men contain such good thoughts, as to use kindness and benignity toward their enemies, the like or more ought appear in them that profess faith and loyalty. We then that follow the right path of a far better religion, should think on no fraud or trumpery whatsoever, and much less in time of a kind entreaty, as we promise to our prisoned enemy, under hope whereof, they whom our enemies detain of ours, may receive such favour from them, as they shall not be compelled to do any thing hurtful to themselves. Let us not then constrain him to any thing against his will, much less let us speak or once open our mouths concerning any marriage, in that it will seem a matter incredible to our enemies that against the laws of our religion, we would permit the marriage of a Pagan with a Christian: this were but to make them verily believe, that we would altogether forsake our God, and the con●idence we have hitherto reposed in him, to worship with them their false gods, jupiter, Mahomet, Mercury, Phoebus, and such like idols as they reverence as things celestial, so altogether to take their part: whereas we ought not show them the least attaint of our thoughts, but firmly to stand on our strong faithful foundation toward God, who evermore hitherto hath maintained and preserved us, by his exceeding mercy and invincible dower. And still in his goodness we ought to resolve with ourselves, that all the Bethulians were in times past delivered, from the miserable and cruel siege of cruel Holofernes, only by power divine, that for their deliverance raised up a woman, who by undauntable stomach cut off the head of their chiefest enemy: we by the like or greater miracle, by his supreme and divine grace shall be delivered from our proud enemy: for whose destruction if our strength be two feeble, or in any sort wanteth, he can by his will, if we firmly trust in him, make fly on them again, either the Sword of Gedeon or Aioth, or else an other judeth, to overthrow and exterminate their days altogether, so to preserve and deliver them that abide in faithful obedience and trust, continuing their firm hope and assurance only in him.  
We see by many holy and sacred mysteries and examples wherewith the divine and holy Scriptures are plentifully stored and furnished from how many evils and mischiefs he delivered, and miraculously preserved the Children of Isaac and Israel, that trusted in his goodness and mercy, and did with hearts full of devotion and penitence, call for his help and secure in their calamities and afflictions: let us then altogether trust & hope in him, believing that he is at this present, ever hath been, and for ever will be, as gracious and mighty as then he was, and in this hope let us take pain, valiantly and courageously to defend ourselves: for if we had this resolution in us, though we were as men without heart or power, I am persuaded that five hundred of us, shall suffice to impeach the entrance of our enemy, were they as many more in number as they are, and so attend the arrival of our hoped succour, albeit they should tarry a month yet longer in coming, when he had concluded in this sort, the wise and virtuous king Floridamant, seeing by exterior demonstration, that the greater part of the assistants, approved and highly praised the good council of the valiant old Candior Duke of Normandy: fastened on his words, and thus began himself.  
My good friends and faithful companions, if in this adversity (which hath not been common with you or me) I have some cause of grief, to see myself in extreme danger of losing my estate and Crown, which my predecessors by their prudence and virtue, so long time happily preserved in all flourishing joy and prosperity: yet withal I have now great reason to comfort myself, seeing so many virtuous and valiant persons embarked in the same ship, ready to run in like danger of fortune with me, who not only by effects of their prowess and valour lets me apparently behold, what good will they bear to the conservation of the christian weal public: but likewise do travail by their advise and council, to acquaint both mine eyes and certain experience, with what zeal and affection they embrace the conduct of mine estate, and how forward they are for the preservation of all Christendom, which would be marvelously shaken, if this woeful distressed kingdom (at this instant the most flourishing estate of all, where the name of jesus Christ is known, honoured and glorified) should fall as a pray to the enemy, that seek to take and utterly ruinated it. For which I ought chiefly to thank my God, as unfeignedly I do, that he hath not altogether forsaken me in this calamity and misery: but not only hath provided me of such valiant knights and warriors as you all are, but withal hath lent me men so skilful and advised. It seemeth then good to me, that according to the discreet council of Duke Candior of Normandy, that we should not seek to delay, but patiently endure the enemy's assault, when they shall again with their great number give the attempt, and without any show of fear either without or within the City, carry no regard of our lives or goods, but employ ourselves together manfully, to defend so just a quarrel as this for which we fight. And let us so behave ourselves, that our enemies may know, how the Lord God that assisteth us, and can (if he please) take our ca●se in hand, is only mighty, and will by us deliver such testimony of fortitude to the world, as neither is in their power, or the false idolatrous Gods which they worship, to do, in vain then shall they think to fear us, or work such ruin to us as they intended. In this deliberation each of you take courage, and he assured, that whosoe●dr dieth in hardy trial of this fight, it shall be a perpetual honour to him in this world, and a glorious life to him in the endless world, where he shall triumph of the fairest victory. Nevertheless, I do not reject the good council and advise of the king Ferrand, Grandilaor, and others agreeing with them whereto if we see urgent necessity constrain us, we may use them as we find cause, to uphold ourselves on our feet what ever betid us: marry yet we must not so slightly condescend thereto, without further feeling of our enemy's force, then as yet we have, without any great disadvantage. Having thus said, each commended and agreed on this resolution, and so rising from council, they went to prepare to withstand the assault, as hereafter ye shall read, because we must here conclude this chapter.   

CHAP. 18.  
How the Pagans prepared themselves to the assault, and how the besieged Christians endeavoured to the contrary, in such sort as they withstood it valiantly. How many brave bicker passed between them, compelling the Infidels (after a great slaughter, and on needful occasion) to withdraw themselves toward their Camp and Pavilions.  
WHen the Christian Princes departed from Council, it was almost night, and having a lighted Torch before him, as is the manner in the Realm of England, the chief and most noble Lords went to the Palace royal, to take their repast in company of their king, who feasted and entertained them very magnificently, the better to encourage them in their devoir. After supper was ended, the guard and watch was orderly placed, each one of the inhabitants thus resolving, rather to die the death, then turn their backs on their enemies, or forsake the walls, which they manned and fortified very strongly, expressing iwincible and never quailing courage. The princes were there in person, and having in the night made sundry rounds about the City, to see if any thing wanted in any place: they found all well and in good disposition, through the careful diligence of the Captains by them appointed, and according as the king had commanded for conduct of the footmen. This done, they departed for a while to the palace again, that they might take a little rest, because they had been so overtravailed the days before. Not three hours or thereabout had they slumb'ringly slept, but they heard a great rumour and noise thorough all the City, the cause whereof was, in respect the enemies had sounded their drums and trumpets, giving an alarm to the inhabitants: whereupon king Floridamant arose immediately, and all the Christian kings and Princes that bore him company, who betook themselves as the king had appointed, to the rampires and contremures severally provided, to withstand this first and sudden assault of the Pagans. And as each one was come to his place of charge, they found the enemies already very busy, against four places of the City at once, with their Trepans, Rams, Bricolles, Scorpions, Crows, with other such like engines and instruments for war, wherewith in those times they used to break and beat down the walls of Cities, they saw withal▪ that they had erected their high terraces and platforms that commanded over the City, and on the principal of these Forts, they had builded certain bastilles or houses of wood, wherein were placed great store of Archers and crossbows, who standing with assurance against the enemy, might greatly injury such as attempted to impeach the escalade, appointed in these places and for this purpose. For this cause likewise, they commanded their Elephants to be brought near the walls, to the number of two or three hundred, carrying little castles of wood upon their backs, wherein also were a number of Pagan Archers hid. Beside, many were appointed with Torches and burning firebrands against the gates of the city, where they laid store of pitch barrels, to make the fire the sooner do his office when the gates being burnt down, they entered in great number the city, while the christians was busied to defend the breach or scaling of the walls: when king Floridamant & his hardy knights had notice hereof, with all speed they hastened thither, where seeing how they laboured against the high bulwarks of earth, with their pioneers they made new fortifications upon them, casting such deep trenches round about, as should hold them rougher work than the wall had done: for the trench was made with special good soldiers the number of three or four thousand, being armed with pikes and steeled cuirasses, so worthily stood upon their defence, as the Pagans, who verily thought they had won the day already, were quickly repulsed from that bridge, for king Grandilaor, Andregon and Lampridion, who were appointed to keep that quarter with their companies, drove them so furiously over the false rovered deep trenches, as at this first onset fell therein wounded, slain and spoiled, fourteen or fifteen hundred Pagans together, that were striving, who should be foremost before his fellow. Whereat the fierce & proud Brandissant chafed out of measure, when being followed by the four Pagan kings his vassals, all armed in most goodly glittering armour, each having in his hand a mighty maze, garnished with sharp steel points round about: they laid upon the Christians so outrageously, as the port of the bulwark (where into the greater part ran for safety of their lives) being too strait to let them in so fast as they came, there were presently slain outright in this brunt more than five hundred men. Brandissant pressing still on, by chance met with the Citizen Hoaster, who had charge of a brave armed troop in the city, and such was his unconquerable courage, as he would resist this blood-thirsty pagan: but he received such a stroke on the crest of his morion, where stood a fair plume of snowy white feathers, as piercing quite through the harness into the brains there this worthy citizen yielded up his soul to God: which when his son behold, the sole heir of a marvelous wealthy patrimony, which his father had heaped together for him, being a valiant young man and of towardly hope, he was overcome with such extreme rage and despite, as in the heat of his ●urie (not dreading the force of this stout pagan) he ran upon him to revenge the death of his father, and having his sword drawn in his hand, he delivered such a stroke at the pagan, as (but for the goodness of his shield) had deeply wounded him, for the swords point broke of with out any further harm to his enemy, but the Pagan making no account of the blow, thought in scorn to pass by him, and meddle no more with him, whereat the young man called Dondye, was so vexed, as running again at Brandissant, he challenged him the combat: when the Pagan entering into his wont choler, made him die the same death his father had done before, and holding on his way in this fury, made such havoc of the Christians, as before he would take a breathing, he slew five & twenty or thirty men of mark, as brave and hardy as any in that company. Agaros' a man of authority, who before time had lead men in the wars of the deceased king Brandismel, was slain as he fought very courageously; for after he had killed four pagan soldiers hand to hand, himself fell down dead by the hand of this cruel and bloody Brandissant, So likewise did Taurisque the brave leper and the good drinker Grinos' albeit he took not his drink well enough that morning, for which it seemed he was so sorrowful in dying as he yielded forth his soul at his mouth, crying for some friend to bring him his liquor. With them bare company Anglidor King Floridamants player on the Lute, and the valiant knight Andron, who sometime had been his page, with his two brethren jumeaux Marcis, and Mausis, goodly young men of the wealthiest family of the city of London, greatly affected to the good and safety of the weal public, and so many beside of special name, as if I should particularly set them down in writing, it would require more time than in this case is limited me. For if the fierce pagan put ten to death, his followers apparently imitated his valour, in murdering seven or eight at the least, according as they could possibly reach them. Salazard with his scimitar smote off the head of Norgal among others, and quickly did the like to Longaro his cousin, two lusty young men, that were counted the best Fencers in all the city, but albeit their cunning and fencing made a fine show in their master's hall, it little availed them against the unspeakable force of this valiant pagan, who (with them) sliced through the midst of the body. Aridos' the good pilot, he that in his life time had made many a voyage on the mediterranean sea, and from one side to another cut through the wide Ocean, to places whereof the names were never known. Cambarel cruelly slaughtered Medion a gallant disposed young man of the city, whose father dying not long before left him abounding in goods and riches, and he being at liberty was affianced (for her beauty and virtue) to the fairest maid in the City, albeit she had no great dowry to her marriage, because her parents and friends were very ●oore. But this rich citizen being amorous of her, minded soon after to marry her, and so living in this sort, the pagan gave end to his love and hope at one struck, which so grieved Caluis, the brother germayne to fair Auciana, the affianced maid, as he would do his devoir to revenge his death, but Cambarel 〈◊〉 him with his sword from the head to the middle, and likewise slew Amiris the good Archer, as he was sending an arrow toward the fierce Zarlot, who on the other side made great spoil of the poor christians: but he had not the leisure to do it, for as he held up his brasill bow, tipped at each end with good heart's horn, he fell down dead to the earth, the black blood issuing abundantly out at his mouth, through the cruel stroke the pagan gave him with his sharp skein. Not contented herewith, he smote the cunning cook Piscan on the flank, he that was wont to keep the keys of the gate of the City, to open them in the morning and shut them at night, and so the good soldier fell dead to the ground: as likewise four germane brethren, who all that morning had laboured to repulse the enemy, and in the first shock flew half a dozen with their guilded pikes, but when they broke through the throng, to drive the puissant Phago●roff back again from the breach, all striving to avenge the death one of another, were in the ends slaughtered and spoiled in the breach by the right hand of this strong pagan Phagotroff, which proved very great loss to the christians, for besides that they were descended of very noble race, their virtues and hardy courage made them worthy of high commendations: the 〈◊〉 being named Flexin, the next Lampos, the third Artaxe, and the youngest Robly, the four sons of the loyal knight Tamiris, who long time served king Floridamant, as master of his household, and died in his service, as now did his four sons, in the defnce of their lives and Countrie-King Grandilaor that beheld this bloody slaughter and merciless murdering of the Christians, as well by these accursed pagans before named, as also the six huge giants belonging to Angrafolt, became so passionate in his thoughts, that to revenge the death of these four hardy Gentlemen, he put himself forward against the pagan Phagotroff, who thinking to handle him as he had done the rest, was greatly ston when he saw and knew by effects, that he had made an overrash account, the christian prince laying such strokes on him with his sword, as in his life he had not felt the like. Wherefore looking more narrowly to his business, he covered himself with his shield, whereof Grandilaor had pared away a great part, and to began between them a very hot skirmish, for if the christian prince was valiant and ready to arms, the bold pagan was no less than he. Which Zarlot and his brother perceiving, travailed so greedily to kill this Christian, as in despite (lea●ing the conflict where they were dealing) they made great haste to run furiously upon him, but one of the arthurs sent an a-row so right from off the rampart, as entering the ●ight of his helmet, was sound planted in the midst of his eye, whereof he felt such exceeding pain and anguish, as he f●ll down in the place where he stood. Now is it not to be doubted whether Brandissant and his three brethren were offended hereat, for ye must think the●● a●ger to be such, as they laid on the Christians ten 〈…〉 than they had done before. And the Christians withal were so joyful, to see one of their enemies chief pillars laid along, as they began likewise to use better defence for themselves then they ●yd before, and the rather, for that the princes Andregon and Lampridion (being near on the other side) had slain the two fierce Giants Astort and Morganoes, beside Rogemont that ventured first on the wall in the esca●ade, was by them so shamefully repulsed, as falling plainly from the top of the breach, he was glad to get him out of the fight, with his leg broken in the midst: but the multitude of the pagans was so strong and valiant, as no man was able to stand before them, for as they sought to carry away the wounded body of Zarlot, the Christians strove to take it from them, in which attempt to many of them were slain, as they were feign to let them have the pagans body half dead, and fly for assurance of their own lives, behind the rampart and bulwark, which their labourers had raised before the breach, and thence to repel the enemy's access was very difficult. When King Floridamant noted this, he went and came from one breach to another, even where he perceived the fight to be most vilent, and where a soldier might best set himself to work: and holding his bloody curtelar in his hand, seeing Grandilaor, Andregon, Lampridion, and others sustaining the assault on the side half vanquished, the breach being well near lost, such was the strength of the pagan kings, princes and abounding multitude, he cried and called out unto them in this ma●ner.  
A● valiant knights and worthy men at arms, in whom gloriously shineth such prowess and valour, as under the vault of heaven was never seen the like, now experience tells me, that your virtue is invincible, and albeit the force of our enemies is most great, ye have notwithstanding such unconquerable spirits, as the dread of death cannot cause ye to forg●t your devoir, being so long since ●aught, that it is much better to die with 〈◊〉, then live with shame and disgrace, which your generous minds could never brook, to have your fame by the very lest mean impaired. If already you have and still do give such terror to to the enemy, as he knows not whether he were best forsake the place or no, delivering you the signal of victory in yielding you his room: assure yourselves that whatsoever countenance they show of having the better, yet in this extremity they know not to which of their Gods they should now make recourse. Courage, courage then most valiant knights and Gentlemen, boldly beat back these heathen Infidels, I am here yet whole and sound to give ye succour, and as your faithful companion will live and die with ye, not budging one foot from it, till either I be slain or you conquerors.  
These words pronounced most cheerfully, and coming from so great a parsonage, gave such courage to the Christian princes and soldiers there about him, especially when they saw the king not only in words, but in deeds endeavoured for their assistance: as king Grandilaor so rudely charged the pagan Phagotroff, who was climbing up the top of the rampire, that he made him come tumbling down again so loutishly, as he missed but very little of breaking his neck: nevertheless he was so astonished and amazed, as his brethren and the rest which saw him thought he had been dead indeed. This ●o inflamed their chief leader Brandissant, that he ran with such fury on this valiant prince, as but for the speedy help of king Floridamant he had there been slain out right, for he had given him such a peisaunt stroke with his ●ace, as shivering his ●hield had almost broke his arm, and withal made him fall in a trance to the ground, which the pagan well no●ing, ran to finish up the last accent of his life, but king Floridamant steeped before him with such force and hardy courage▪ as the pagan feeling four or five good strokes well and sound laid upon him, was glad honestly to get him gone, and forsake the rampire which he thought to have won, showing notwithstanding in his recoiling some valour in his countenance. Nor can I compare his retire to any thing better, than that of a mastiff dog, that being well bitten with the teeth of one that is stronger than himself flies without making semblance thereof, showing his teeth for all that to the other that 〈◊〉 him.  
Thus threatened the pagan, when he was forcibly beaten from the rampire, showing back his mighty maze with some mean ostentation, as though he would kill him that durst presume to ●ollowe him. But king Floridamant, seeing that it was not so expedient to follow him, but rather to help Andregon and Lampridion, who were strongly beset by Salazard and Cambarell, as also a great number of their company, against whom (having so few soldiers) it was very ha●d for them to make resistance▪ therefore presently he directed his course thither, leaving the pursuit of Brandissant, and there so bravely behaved himself, that the Pagans perceiving their chief leaders driu●n from the rampart by the renowned Christian king, the tranche likewise 〈◊〉 again, and many Pagans of name lay weltering in their blood: they also took themselves to flight, whereat the old Grandowin, who galloped with his Chariot hither and thither, to courage and hearten up his men, remembering how forward they were at the first▪ and no●●e to fly with such manifest disgrace and shame, especially the king of T●uariffe his son▪ How now Brandissant? 〈…〉 I thought the place where you would give the first assault, should be our undoubted entrance into the City: yet now to the contrary I behold, that you who should serve for an example of valour and hardiness to all our h●ste, are the first that inciteth them to take their heels, thereby to desist from so fair an enterprise, begun and hitherto continued happily. If thou turn not once again with thy men to the place from whence thou camest, I will flatly say thou art not my son: never more will I think on thee or Angrefolt thy brother, if thou revenge not their death slain by the christian king, and this notorious injury offered us. Return thou then with speed upon the enemy, without hope of ever coming back again, except thou bring the victory and spoil of the Christians, for this is the day or never, that must needs make us Lozdes and commanders in this strong and well defended city.  
The magnanimous Infidel strutting himself, and having with marvelous gravity delivered these words, his cruel son (followed by all his people at once) moved with exceeding rage and auger, returned so ●uriously upon the Christians, as quickly made them re●ire within their rampires, so y● to behold their sallying forth, flight back again, and eager pursuit of their greedy enemies, I may well resemble it to the merciless floats of the Caspian sea, when the waters driven by violence of the winds, beat fiercely against the hard 〈◊〉, wherewith it is environed, when the flames and billows extremely thereon rend asunder, confusedly return back again into the midst of the sea whence f●rst they went, and then recovering fresh vigour, again and again run on the rocks more violently than before, so by going and coming still in vain, their labour is bestowed to no purpose or benefit. In like manner began and continued this new assault, both by the scaling ladders, and in at the 〈◊〉, as I will declare unto ye in Chapters following tending to such matter. For the cruelty of this war hath now surprised me with such grief of mind, as I am constrained a while to discontinue the history, to speak of matters more pleasing, & which deliver more sweetness.   

CHAP. 19  
How the Princess Porphiria being in a castle near to Constantinople, overcome with amorous thoughts, and desirous to hear some tidings of her lover, importuned the Physician Sagibell, to tell her by his Magical art, whether he were alive or dead. Which he could not then perform, albeit he put his skill in practice, and withdrew his spells, by reason of far geater knowledge that remained in another. Notwithstanding, soon after she had some consolation concerning her love.  
I Stand in doubt I shall be greatly blamed, for having so long time let sleep in silence, the success of the amorous sickness of the most fair Princess in the world, whose history I have discontinued since the first chapter of this book, by reason of the sundry occurrences of wars, combats, and other adventures, which compelled the flight of my pen to take that course, following a path not before trod or beaten, as ye have read: wherein if your judgements find that I have any thing failed, I will at this instant make amends for that fault (if you account it a fault in so doing) and speak so sufficiently thereof, as you shall have reason to be contented. If then I forget not the scope of the story concerning her, and the last speeches we had in her cause, it may appear, that we left her from the City of Constantinople, in a Castle of pleasure or recreation belonging to the Emperor her father: where (to find some ease for her amorous passions, though shadowed under the change of ayr●) the Physician Sagibell wrought the means of conducting her thither, as ye have read in the place before expressed. You remember likewise, in what equipage she was conveyed from the Court, and how the Emperor kept the treasure and wealth of his Empire in this fortress, impregnable of any force: it remaineth then that I tell yes at this present what happened while she sojourned there, and how her inflamed des●res were satisfied.  
It behoveth then that ye call to mind, how earnest she was to know certainly, whether her lover were alive or dead, for which without ceasing, she importuned her physician, who, as well ye remember, was excellently skilled in the magic art, whereby she should present to her eyes alive or dead, the figure of him that gave nurture and some contentment to her amorous thoughts, that she might perceive in what estate he was. The skilful man overcome with importunity, prepared himself hereto, and settin●● own such parcels as he thought meet for the purpose, he found'st by rare changes and contradictions, that o●efarre better experimented in this art than himself, meddled with the same matter, whereby he was compelled to leave his enterprise imperfect and without ●ffect. Wherefore, if while the more skilful party called on the spirits, he should have offered to proceed further therein, the double strife would have grown to such a confusion, as the smoke and tempest would have overthrown or carried away the castle, wherein the princely maid for her pleasure was enclosed. To prevent so great an evil, the physician gave over in time, and withdrew his charms in very good season▪ declaring the occasion to the princess, why he could not then bring to pass the thing she so much desired: yet assuring her withal, that very soon she should hear news in some sort, for which she should not tarry any long time, which proved true and came to pass as Sagihel had foretold, for fifteen days after or thereabout, one night when the princes was in her chamber, disrobing herself to go to bed, between the hours of nine and ten at night, she heard a voice, and the sound of a lute, agreeing together so melodiously, as among human creatures was never heard sweeter harmony. And the song seemed to come from some ship on the sea, at the foot of the castle, where then was appointed the princess chamber, the effect of which song hereafter followeth.  

The song which the Princess Porphyria heard in the Castle.  

THou that within this tower art enclosed,  
And with loves cruel fire all inflamed:  
This night give rest unto thy languishing.  
For Atropos as yet minds not thy murdering.   

The destinies as yet consent not to end thy life,  
But these black hours must change of amorous strife  
And thou before thy death shalt see quite ended,  
The strong assaults of grief that hath offended.   

Love vowed not thy ruin though unrest,  
A golden shaft he shot into thy breast,  
He for whom thy heart endures this sickness,  
Triumphs not over thee, for thou art mistress.   

Even with the self same shaft his heart is maimed,  
And plunged in sharper woes, of joys restrained,  
Fair maid then grieve not, this is but loves finger,  
They find rest in the end that love and linger.   

Cease, cease thy tears, complaints and sorrowing,  
Cherish up thy beauty fairer than the morning,  
A day will come if thou wilt give me credence,  
That of thy loyal love thou shalt have recompense.   

Angelical beauty, live thou then happily,  
And in thy sweet passions use no extremity.    
As the fay●e Porphyria heard this Song begin with such an hermonio●s sound, she was so ravished in conceit, as suddenly she ran and laid her head to the window, albeit she was near disrobed of all her garments▪ so s●e by the silver shining rays of the Moon, that this calm night showed her bright and argentine face over the faults of heaven, who it was that sung and played so sweetly, and came at such a late hour to perform the same. But she could not discern any thing, neither beneath the Tower or any where else, whence this most heavenly voice might proceed: only she understood the dainty melody of the Lute, and the voice very perfectly which sung the song, the words whereof made her the more to muse, in that they better agreed with her disposition, than the sweetness of the music could give her pleasure. Especially when she heard what consolation this unknown physician promised, by the certain hope of a future felicity, of seeing him whose sight she so extremely desired: and withal, to have her amorous torments assuaged, which she had so long time impatiently suffered, and still inflamed her heart with most ardent desire of his love.  
Hereupon, having forsaken the window, and being laid in her bed, all this night she could think on nothing but this song, imagining with herself, whence this knowledge of her passions should proceed: then again conceiving this opinion, that the matter contained in the Song was most certain and true, delivered from some person that bore her entire affection, and who (for her pleasure) was thus sent to comfort her amorous oppressions. Then remembering how little assurance was to be reposed, in the credence of such things as carried no appearance of true similitude, nor having any foundation on reason: she was on the other side carried away with contrary opinions, verily believing, that this was but some charm done by her Physician, or else some other appointed by him, to make her hope well in her despair, and freed herself with vanity in the midst of her misfortune, ●herein she was so sound and surely entrapped, which humour bearing stroke with with her more this way than the other, enforced her to renew her former tears, fighs and entire lamentations. Then turning again to remember what few days before her physician had told her, how one better skilled than himself, had contraried his spells, whereby he sought to give her assurance of her desire, comparing this with her first conceived imaginations, she then remained as doubtful as b●fore. These diverse and contrary opinions thus hammering in her head, made her toss and tumble every way in her bed, with great impatience, and these amorous torments compelled her to breath forth such vehement sighs, as her cousin Harderina (lodging in the same chamber) hearing her, demanded what new disease had so surprised her, for i● she would begin again her former immoderate vexations, especially at such a time when she had so great occasion of comfort, by so late good hope prophetically delivered in the the song, which with such admiration they had heard that night, in her opinion she was well worthy to be chidden. Ah sweet cousin, answered the princes, I know not what I should say or think thereof, this is my fear, that I have heard, are but abusing charms to deceive me withal, to make me in the mean while lie languishing before my death, which ever yet and at this instant I earnestly wish for, for no way can I devise to turn myself to find my rest, wherefore I pray thee dear cousin, tell me faithfully what thou dost imagine of all these passed events, think●st thou there is not some body in the world, that by one mean or other either general or particular, can tell me what shall happe●, or else show me some proof, wherein I may repose some trust, how little to ever it be? Madame, quoth Harderina, I will tell you truly what I think, agreeing with what I haue●often heretofore heard.  
There are certain malign spirits deceivers of men, which through the means of many Magicians, as there are too many: by a thousand illusions know how to deceiu● such as are less skilled in that wicked science, making them to believe what is not, and so deceive the senses of men or women, in causing them to credit certainly what they hear or see. The charms of such do vanish away like smoke, having no more vigour or efficacy then a dream, so that the memory thereof is as soon lost as found. There are other called bonum Genies or good angels, which by the means of good persons that call them in better sort, they are commanded in general what shall happen, without spe●ying any thing: and to reveal particularly what is to come, which kind of spirits I have oft times heretofore heard, that a Fairy of good disposition, dwelling in some part of great Britain, which place of her abode could hardly yet be found: she (I say) knows very well how to command them, as also so skilfully to employ them, albeit by divine permission as is said: that she makes them go whether she thinks good, locking them up as she list, and by charms enclosing them in the bodies of beautiful damosels, that invisibly are transported hither and thither, wheresoever she commannds them, and not else. These damosels are called Fairies or Nymphs, one whereof perhaps by her command, did sing the Song to give you some comfort: which if it were so, then verily I dare credit whatsoever the song disclosed: but for better knowledge of the truth herein, it is necessary that to morrow you confer with Sagibell, to understand what in this case he will reveal to ye. Trust me cozen, answered the Princess, I think ye may say true, for one reason which as yet you touched not, and whereof I was remembered by your speech, to wit, that my knight (if mine I may name him) is commonly called the Fairy knight, because a certain fairy (as he said) dwelling in the same country you named, and called Ozyris, as he told us, had given him nourishment, and sent him likewise to my father's court, there to receive his order of knighthood. But how can that be? (quoth then the fair princess again, continuing her speech and doubting what reason should move her so to do) what knowledge hath she of me? can she tell whether I love or no? who should reveal it to her? or how can she divine on matters so strange? this can never enter into my understanding.  
Well cozen, well (replied Harderina half a sleep, wearied to hear her talk so long in a place appointed for rest) sleep, sleep with patience, till to morrow your physician tell ye other news, and in the mean while trouble not yourself: but sleep, and let me do the like, for all this night you have not suffered me to enjoy any quiet. When the fair Virgin perceived her cozen and dear companion weary of talking, she held her peace, and soon after falling into a slumber, she sound slept until the next morning: when the sun arose a little more early than she did, on which day what happened, ye may read in the Chapters that follow hereafter.   

CHAP. 20.  
How the Princess was instructed by Sagibell, in the mean to know who sung the Song at the foot of the Tower: and how she had resolution, in what she most desired to know and understand concerning her love, even as she would, by the means of the Nymph Aegle, servant to the Lady Ozyris.  
WHen the clear morning had showed her fair countenance over the world, according as she was wont, and already the steads that drew Phoebus' chariot, were well entered on their way, to deliver abroad the splendour of his looks, the beautiful infant Porphyria awaked, dreaming yet on the past song, and of the conference she had with her fairy cousin and faithful companion Harderina, especially of that she told her, for resolving of her doubt, which was, to talk with her physician Sagibel, and understand his opinion. For this cause with all speed she sent her damsel Marcelia to seek him, at whose command the good and skilful physician failed not to come presently, and being entered the chamber, finding the princess as yet in her bed, she discoursed unto him all that happened the night past, as also what speeches passed between her cousin and her, in self same manner as ye read in the Chapter going before, earnestly entreating of conclusion of all, to tell her his advise, what might be gathered thereby, most agreeing with truth, if by his art it were possible to comprehend any matter certain, whereunto the physician (having noted every circumstance) thus answered.  
Madame, I cannot presently give ye any certain resolution in these affairs, but between this & mid day I will promise to tell ye truth of all, or at the least show ye some means whereby to know it. I pray thee then my good Sagibel, quoth the princess, that thou have precise regard of the promised hour, or sooner, if it may be possible, go then and in the mean while use what diligence ye can best devise, that at least I may know what thou coniurest, or else canst gather of this wonderful accident. Immediately the wise man departed the chamber, to compass that she had enjoined him, for the entreats of the mighty are strict commandments to the meaner sort, and so diligently herein he behaved himself, that at the hour promised, he failed not to seek his Lady and mistress, finding her new risen from the table, having this day dined with her cousin Harderina.  
Not a little joyful was she to see him, being persuaded in her thoughts that her physician had now promised some cataplasm for ease of her grief, but the consolation she received was not very great, for the physician only told her, that he could know nothing of all that was done. But his spirits had revealed unto him, that to know the certainty in this case, it was expedient, that the Lady which desired such sound knowledge in these affairs, should one night play on some instrument, and sing at the same window where she heard the song before: withal, the effect of her song should be, to ask the voice that had song what it was, the words and circumstance whereof should agree with one that he had made for the same purpose, which he opened and gave her, and she learned it by heart even at that instant. Now albeit the princess received not such entire comfort, as then presently she expected, yet were her passions somewhat mitigated, and this song served her as a pastime all the after noon, to learn the lines perfectly and sing them well, as before night with her lute she made it agree very excellently, and so cunningly could she touch every string, that both the ditty and music fitted passing well her own desire.  
When the day was passed, and night approached, for that she could not with patience tarry till the next morrow, she took her Lute in her hand, and going unto the window, played thereon marvelous sweetly, and shaping her sweet voice to the dainty melody, sung this song as hereafter followeth.  

The Princess Porphyrias Song to the voice.  

TEll me celestial voice,  
if thou be that voice pitiful,  
Which didst reply Narcissus plaints,  
from out the woods so merciful.   

And playing so pleasantly,  
upon the skilful Thracians instrument,  
Wouldst with thy pleasing harmony,  
Assuage my amorous languishment.    
When she had sung these two verses of this song, she suddenly ceased, according as the Physician had instructed her: to try if the voice would begin again to answer as immediately it did, playing and singing in the very same tune she did, and thus was the voices answer.  

The voices answer to the Princess' Song.  

Understand thou fair Princess,  
that I am not the Goddess called Echo,  
Who did resound Narcissus' death.  
through all the world with sorrow so.   

Nor am I as thou thinkest,  
Orpheus that skilful man of Thrace,  
But I am Aegle the fair Fairy,  
whose golden locks hang dangling down her face.    
This made the Princess continue on her song, being very glad that she had answer to her interrogations, and desirous to have further matters told her, in her song she began again in this manner to question with the voice.  


Porphyria.  
I would not wish more happiness,  
fair Nymph, but to have knowledge of thee,  
As thou canst sound give assurance,  
herein then show such favour to me.   

And likewise grant me but to know,  
what most afflicts me with contagion,  
If he live whom my thoughts obey,  
and makes me feel this love passion.   

The Nymph Aegle replies.  
I am the voice of Nymph Aegle,  
the fair and faithful damosel,  
Unto the great and powerful Fairy,  
that underneath the heavens doth dwell.   

One day when thou dost sleeping sit,  
ha●d by a streaming fountain,  
The rest shall be revealed to thee,  
that will assuage thy amorous pain.   

Porphyria.  
Alas than wilt thou fly from me,  
Nymph with fair eyes behold me still,  
And as thy promise let me know,  
what else my tender heart will kill.    
So breaking off her song in this sort, the voice would make her no more answer, which made her more curious and full of grief then before: yet remembering what the voice had said, that one day when she should sit alone by a Fountain, she should be satisfied in the rest of her demanud and find ease for her languishing: hereupon seven or eight days together continually, without letting scape any day, she went & lay down in the Arbour or Garden, where were three or four very stately fountains, and by every one she sat down to sleep, that she might have answer according as the voice had promised: but this desire was so profoundly advanced within her thoughts, as she could compass no way to forget it, and the remembrance thereof compelled her as far from sleeping, as she most coveted to come near it: for the restless humours and fantasies did so continually beat upon her heart, as would not permit her the very lest moment of quiet, and the nearer she approached the Fountains to fasten on a sleep, the more did these abounding vexations torment her. Having continued in these insupportable agonies the space of eight days, the length and vehemence of, which travail had so overweakened her, as now she waxed heavy and desirous of sleep: one day when she least thought hereof, she was sequestered from all her company, and going alone into the Garden (not perceived by any one) about the time of midday, she sat down by a Fountain in the midst of the Garden, which was round beset with dainty. Arbours and Cabinets of Gessemine, Rose trees, with flowers and herbs of all sorts that smelled most sweetly: and excellent pure water flowed from the fountain, being brought thither in pipes from four fair Griffons, that were placed in the four corners of the Garden, which was equal square every way. On the side of this fountain sat down the young Princes who had passed so many nights without receiving any rest, and thinking now but to ●lumber a little, she slept there sound the space of two hours, without knowledge to any of her attendants what was become of her: each one supposing verily she had locked herself into her chamber, as divers days before (to cover her melancholy) she was wont to do. It so happened, that about the very latest moment of her sleeping, the water of the Fountain murmured and made such a mighty noise, as oftentimes the troubled sea doth, when being stirred with great and most tempestuous winds, the fierce billows beat either against some stony rock, or drives up the sands against some promontory, aspiring up sharp pointed from the midst to the top: by means whereof the fair Infant quickly awaked, dreaming that she was not by the side of so fair a fountain, but on the raging of the sea, which leapt against the foundations of the Castle wall, and moved very extremely as seemed to her.  
Being thus awaked, the bruit of the water ceased, and appeared before her the most fair Nymph Aegle, resembling in beauty not any humane or living creature, but rather some deity or matter celestial: such as coming near the new built walls of Carthage, appeared to the Trojan prince her son. Even so this beautiful Naiade seemed to the princely maid, who at the first sight of her was some what astonished, doubting whether she should take herself to flight, or tarry still there, or whether this apparition was to increase her heaviness, or bring her comfort. This being well perceived by the fair Nymph, who heretofore had amazed the most assured by her presence: she spoke to her in this manner: be not afraid (O princess of rare virtues, and the fairest creature in the world) nor be abashed at my unexpected appearing into your presence: for I am the Nymph Aegle, servant to the fairy Ozyris your knight's Nurse: by her commandment, and according to the promise I made ye eight or nine days since, I am come to ye in this place, not any way to astonnish or affright ye but rather to bring ye joy and consolation, by giving ye certain resolution in a doubt, wherein ye have lived and languished too long, to wit, whether your knight be dead or alive: to acquaint ye moreover, with what I knew of his birth and valour.  
The young princess lending ear attentively to these words, cheered up her thoughts, and took great pleasure in contemplating the excelling beauty of this fair Noiade, as also to hear her sweet and gracious language, the sense and substance whereof concerned the thing she most desired, and was so agreeable to her. So that longing to hear what the Nymph had promised, after a modest and civil kind of questioning, she thus made answer. Whatsoever thou be (most fair and gentle Nymph) right welcome art thou into this place, and albeit thy presence at the first brought me some cause of fear and displeasure: yet now on the contrary, I am as glad and joyful here to behold thee, for reasons as yet known to thyself: and this joy I receive by sight of thee, procured the motion and change thou didst note in my countenance, not any fright, fear, or discontent, received through thy being with me. If then thou hast any thing to tell me, chiefly concerning that I most desire to know, I pray and entreat thee again and again, by the reverence and respect thou bearest to thy Mistress Ozyris, by these Fountains and waters which thou hauntest, and wherein thou delightest usually to bathe thyself: likewise, by the love and honest affection thou bearest my knight, by the golden tresses of thy hair, with the sweet favour and beauty I beheld in thy face: I conjure thee not to departed from me, until thou hast told me, who and what the knight is that beareth name of the Fairy, of whence he is, where and in what part he is at this present, and whether he be dead or living. Tell me withal, if his affection be such to me, as mine is to him, what ease, help and comfort, or love like recompense, I shall receive in the end for the loyal affection I bear him, and what will be the issue of both our loves.  
Thy knight (fair princess) answered the Fairy, is a man virtuous and of great valour, for he is the only valiant, and most accomplished knight in all perfections, that at this day liveth, or hereafter shall live upon the earth: in like manner, his exhortation or original hath he received from a father, that is the most hardiest king on earth, no one so worthy to wear a crown royal, namely, the great monarch Floridamant of England, a prince so perfect and accomplished as may be possible. He being in quest of sundry strange adventures, which long time he exercised as a knight errant, only to acquire honour and reputation: left his queen conceived with child, whereof she was delivered in the absence of her king, and he was nourished under the wing and government of the queen his mother, until the age of seven or eight years: when the skilful Fairy Ozyris, who all her life time bore good affection to the king, in the country where she herself inhabited, as also to all that were of his family: knowing and perceiving well by her skill▪ that if the young prince should remain long time in his father's Court, he was destined to incur some great mischance, even no less than a strange and cruel death: by sudden invention she found the mean to rob her of her Son, in respect, that if this misfortune had happened, it would have proved such an exceeding damage and prejudice, not only to all the realm of great Britain, but likewise all the Christians that live under heaven never felt the like, in regard of the good they should one day receive by him. Having then so subtly gotten him away, I will not tell you how or in what manner, because it requireth too long a discourse, and I intent to tell ye but briefly, the principal points of this history.  
She nourished and brought him up long time, in her rich and opulent Fairy, which is as huge & big or rather greater, than the widest kingdom in the world, and there instructed him in all good manners, until he was of able age, and capable to bear knightly arms, whereby he might discover what he was. She providing him of all things necessary for a knight, choosing and appointing him as her loyal and faithful servant, she being the wisest and most fair princess living, as likewise he is the most valiant and virtuous knight in the world: directed his course, sending him as thou knowest and canst very well testify and witness, to the princely Court of the great Emperor thy father: where what befell him, thou canst tell without my reporting, as also thou wast not ignorant of his departure.  
What is become of him ever since his departure, would require a long time to recount, & the hour of my departure so urgently presseth me, as at this instant I can tell thee no more, because I am constrained to leave thee. But to morrow, at the self same hour I came this day, I promise to return again, not only to tell the rest of his adventures, but to let thee see them all, to thy great pleasure and contentment. Having thus spoken, the Nymph plunged her head at the first into the water of the Fountain, and so departed, where likewise I mean to finish this Chapter.   

CHAP. 21.  
How the Nymph Aegle (by the will of her Mistress Ozyris) appeared another time to the fair Porphyria, and made her for to see her knight in a Sphere, withal the adventures that happened to him, since the time she saw him last.  
THe nymph Eagle having thus left the company of the young princes, she remained very pensive, & more desirous than before, to know the news of her knight, for now she would feign be acquainted with what the nymph had concealed, not contented with what was already revealed, though in some sort pleased, by knowing that her part and amorous desires aimed at no mean or base object, but so sortable and worthy as she could make choice of. And very certain it was, that in those times there was no Empire or monarch more renowned nor any king or Christian prince more esteemed, then was the realm of great Britain, & the worthy king Floridamant. For his predecessors and himself had enlarged and augmented their government further a great deal then the continent of England, not only by their force and prowess, but likewise by their sweet courtesy and benignity, so valiant did they evermore show themselves to be, as also human and affable withal, yet all this advantage was not sufficient to satisfy the princely maid, but rather urged her to more pensiveness and impatience, understanding him to be of such race and original, whom before she reckoned and esteemed but as a simple knight arrant: now proving to be of so high extraction and great birth, having seated her affections in place of such dignity, she remained still doubtful whether he were alive or dead, for so long absence might very well raise great and vehement suspicion thereof. Here upon she withdrew herself secretly into her chamber, being much discomforted and very passionate as before, musing and pondering much more profoundly on her new and fresh conceits, than on the discourse of the beautiful and fair Nymph Aegle: and albeit she was indifferently comforted thereby, yet made she no sign or semblance thereof to her cousin. Wherefore when the night was come, thinking in the dark shade the nymph would come again, and resolve her in the rest of her desires, she went to the window and song the same verses which the physician had taught her, but all was in vain, for she heard no song but her own, nor any melody but her Lute, which made a heavenly concordance with her voice. Fair Aegle was deaf for this night, and would not make answer to her musical questions, but when the morning was come, and the rising Sun made show of a new day, the young princess having enjoyed no rest all that night, amorous imaginations had so carried her thoughts to and fro, with wishing and rewishing for the mid day hour. So wearing away the tediousness of the time with as great patience as he could, at the last she got her again to the same fountains side, where she had slept the day before, and the nymph Aegle returned thither again while the princess slumbered, making like noise as at the first she did, wherewith the Infant awaked, marry not so much affrighted as erst she had been, but being very glad to behold and see the fair face of the demie goddess, from whom she hoped to receive greater consolation than she had done in the day before.  
Now the Fairy had brought with her a sphere, or for your better understanding, a bowl of pieces of engraven wood, made in form round like a sphere, wherein appeared the whole universal world, how it was enclosed, and namely the earth, with all the provinces contained therein, painted after the life, and in such sort, as within it ye might behold the moving of the stars of heaven, the foundation of the massy earth, the cloudy air, with the flux and reflowing of the Ocean, the other seas, and the rivers that bind in the earth, with all the roundness of the terrestrial globe.  
These things might there be discerned with more pleasure and contentment than they can conceive that travail far, to see a little portion or many particulars, of that which this fair Nymph showed at one time to the Infant Porphiria. For you must understand, that having drawn from forth the silver waters of the clear fountain, this divine piece of workmanship so lately named, she opened a certain little coverture, which was expressly made to discover all the rest within, at the opening whereof she used these words to the princess.  
I will let thee see herein, virtuous and fair princess, all the universal world, presented in the proper life and figure, wherein likewise thou shalt behold thy knight, and all his adventures, which happened since his departure from thee.  
Speaking these words, having opened the door that was above, wherein was contained the figure of heaven and the stars, she parted in three parts the rest of the round Globe, which when the princess saw discovered, she cast her looks on that part where Africa was represented, and questioning thereof with the fair A●gle, she sa●●e, I pray thee beauteous Nymph, favour me more than with the bare sight of the wide world, before thou shift to any other place, tell me what part is this here first described, inhabited with people so barbarous, gross and rustical, because they come first to sight, and tell me what deserts these are, that nourisheth and breedeth such infinite number of savage and cruel beasts. This is that part, answered Aegle, which is named Africa, defenced on the one side toward the Sun rising, with the great flood, which ye hear with such merciless noise come from the mountains, and by seven channels or mouths runs into the bosom of Thetis, called Nilus. On all the other sides it is environed with the sea, especially on the North coast with the Libique sea, whereon the ancient people called Penes, exercised many outrageous and extreme piracies, these people came of the phoenicians, that passed thither with Dido Queen of Carthage and the Greeks, more ancient than they that passed thither before with Hercules. And to tell thee in few words (lest I should offend ye with tediousness) with what other regions this land is inhabited, ye must understand that Ethiopia is this which ye see rising from the red sea, and butting on Arabia, neighbouring toward the North with the Egyptians and Lybians, who were so called after a man named Aethipos, that the old Pagans said was the son of Vulcan: he being the first king, all the region took the name of him. Then may ye discern here on the other side, the habitation of these old idolatrous Egyptians, a very fertile region, which in elder time was called Aeria, and since then cleped Egypt, by a brother to Danaus so termed. On the west is the limitrophing borders of Cyrena, towards the east it beholdeth Palestine, and on the North side the mediterranean sea. The great city which ye see in this region so well seated, with walls so ancient, and whose proud palaces are now like an old ruined measure, is the ancient city of Thebes, whereof Amphion is said to lay the first foundation, and the king to whom Andromache, wife to the hardy Hector, was daughter, being there slain when cruel Achilles entered to sack and spoil the town, murdering seven of his children, the future hope of his genealogy: since which time this ancient city hath continued in such had estate as ye behold it. But afterward in this other place was builded by king Alexander the great this other beautiful city, the walls whereof are not so ancient as the other, and according to the name of the edifier, it is named Alexandria. See on the other side in the same province the city called Abiros. Here is proud Babylon and the city of Memphis, renowned by reason of the marvels which Queen Semiramis there builded and erected.  
This other great City and wonderful strong, whose walls are more fresh, as also being more newly builded then all the other: is the famous City of Hieropolis, so called in former times, but at this present is named the grand Cayre, which signifieth a Fortrosse in Egyptian language: in this City lies the king or Sultan of all the country. Here in this part, not far from the people I told ye off before, that made many courses and piracies on, the Lybian sea, I mean the Phoenitians, which are divided into sundry regions and provinces: for here are the Namasones in Lybia and Marmarica, drawing towards the kingdom of Barcha near the sea: there are the Guydanes their neighbours, who in steed of bearing bucklers with them to the wars, do carry the Skins of Cranes.  
On the other side, countenancing the sennes Trytonia, are the Machlides, that wear their hair (as there ye may behold one) long behind, and are pulled short before, contrary to these other called Anses, who as the painter describes, wear their hair long before and short behind: their daughters once a year fight extremely with stones, in honour of the Goddess Minerva, whom they adore. The great mount ye see not far from this place, is the mount Atlas, whereby the neighbouring people are called Atlantide, which in the greatest heat of the day rail the sun, and cuisse it with many injurious speeches. They that are on this side, having the right side of their heads shorn, and razed toward the-left side: are called Maxes▪ that usually paint their faces with Uermillion, and make vaunt of their descent from the Trojans: as likewise do these Zigantes, being not far off from them, and they live by the flesh of Apes, wherewith the country meruailou●●ie aboundeth.  
These other abiding in the region of the Hesterues, are named Troglodytes, otherwise Megavares: people that being dead make no account of burial, but after the decease of burial, but after the decease of one of them, they usually come to the place where he is, and being laden with stones, in a great laughter they throw them at him, and so return again without any thought of death. To these are next neighbours the Hylophages and Spermatophages: the first are so called, because that for their nourishment or food, they climb and crawl up Trees like Squirrels, and there cutting the tender sprigs or branches, feed thereon and so live. The other are so named, because they substantiate their bodies with many seeds of herbs, that come from the midst of the marshy grounds in that soil. There hard by likewise are the Ceneigdes, which inhabit the woods, and sit sleeping all the night on the trees, like birds. Furthermore concerning such like people, in the deserts of Lybia, are the Acridophages, which live only but by Locusts that are found is those deserts, and thereupon they are so called. In the extreme being of this part of the world, are the Cynanimes, so called by the Greeks' in their language, but we call them savage men. They which ye see hear all naked, are the Ichtipophages, and there is the place called the cape of Gardafuni, which looks on Arabia named the happy, where are the kingdoms of Adel and Barnagas. In this marshy Isle, neighbour to Aethiopia and mount Atlas, named Hesperia, within the Tritonian ●ennes: dwell the Amazons, women experimented in feats of war, and which only manage the affairs of their common wealth, with out men meddling or inhabiting among them. I leave all the other people that are here in this part, because it would be over long to express their names, life, manners, and daily behaviour: wherefore passing over this strait, that separates the great Ocean from the Mediterranean sea, called Gibaltare or Hercules pills: is the kingdom of Hea, which hath on the north side the Ocean and Athlantique sea, and toward the midst, the great mount Atlas I showed ye before: there also are the kingdoms of Phez, Morocco, Alger and Thunis, inhabited with terrible and cruel people, and sour Pagan kings all cousins germane: in their possessions they are very mighty men, well skilled in warring against their enemies. But above all, the king of Phez is of high resolve and marvelous valiance, as I will declare to ye anon, when seeing the place where he is at this present, I shall recount the marvelous adventure happening him, so long since forborn: and with speech of him, I will likewise tell ye tidings of your Colen Pharisor, who is as sorrowful as you for the want of his companion. They that govern these two kingdoms of Morocco and Alger, the one named Phoas, and the other Orontes, have led in their conduct a great multitude of the barbarous people of their Realms, to sight against the Christians, and with huge numbers of Pagans expressly assembled, seek to destroy the great and famous City of London, wherein king Floridamant father to your knight, is cruelly besieged, in danger to lose his li●e, or see himself disposest of crown and kingdom: but God of his infinite goodness will provide some help, that such misfortune shall never befall him.  
As for the third, under whose laws and commandments they of Thunis are governed, to wit, Adylas: I will likewise tell ye more when we meet him in place where he is, to let ye know what he hath done, and then shall ye see him that ye are so desirous of. But before this may be done, or you attain to behold the long wished place: I will tell ye what these fair Islands are which you see within the Sea, the near bordering neighbours to this kingdom.  
Know then that these are the Hesperides, otherwise called Fortunate Isles, and commonly Canaries, not such as many have esteemed them to be, they are greatly abounding in Dogs: but much more fertile are these aforesaid Isles abounding in store of Reeds or Canes, from which are made the Melasses Cassonades, and then Sugars most fine and sweet, abounding in very great quantity. The people there dwelling, are subjects to a puissant Pagan king, who at this day sways the sceptre thereof, named Brandissant, that chased thence sometime Argamor, the cruel father to four sons, who succoured king Brandissant in so doing, because the king had promised to each of them, one of these Isles for his part, and severally they should wear kingly crowns, such was their greedy desire to reign before their father's death, whose life was more offensive to them, than any infectious disease to a healthful time: according to which promise, after that Argamor was then chased thence, who afterward died with extreme grief: the four brethren, the eldest whereof is named Salazard, the second Zorlot, the third Canibarell, and the fourth Phagotroff, had the government of the four isles by them demanded, conditionally, that thence●foorth they should be obedient to the commandments of great king Brandissant, and lives as they ought under his Empire: all these are likewise at this instant in these wars, with great multitude of the Islanders, and other neighbours that own tribute and allegiance, in company of the father to Brandissant, who hath engirt with siege (as I told ye before) the famous City of London, assisted by many more whereof ye shall know anon. Thus breaking off, the fair Nymph Aegle turned and quickly joined together the separated parts of the sphere, which being invisibly closed and brought into the former estate, and casting it into the Fountain, immediately she threw herself in after it: promising to return again upon the more own, to tell what remained to the princess of Constantinople: she sitting still by the fountains side, ravished with joy and delight for seeing such are sights, and here because the day continued no longer▪ we gave great reason to knit up this Chapter.   

CHAP. 22.  
How the Nymph Aegle appearing again to the Princess Porphyria, daughter to the mighty Emperor of Constantinople, made her see in her Globe of all world, all that which Asia containeth, and in what part her lover was, with the pursuit of his high enterprises and adventure.  
GReat pleasure took the fairest of fair Princesses in the world, daughter likewise to the most mighty Emperor in the world, to behold so many notable things in so small a time or space, as I have declared to ye in the Chapter going before: and desirous to know with all what yet remained, the next day she failed not to be at the self same place, experting the coming of the Nymph Aegle, who should discover the depth of her desire. In like manner, the Nymph, according to her promise, came in such equipage as she had done the day before: and being there arrived, found the princess willing to see the other marvelous strange and arteficial matters, that were divinely engraven within the round bowl, where before she had noted so many singular things already exercised. The fair Nymph opened again that rare piece of workmanship, bidding her behold and touch with her finger all that which Asia contained, and first on the East side leading towards the North, she showed her the second part of the world▪ bounding on the great flood of Nilus, which watereth Egypt from Tanais to Mors maior or the Euxine sea, and one part with the mediterranean, but on all sides it is environed with the hog Ocean: in showing whereof, the nymph thus spoke. This land which ye see is named As●a, being of such gret●es, & comprehend such spacious circuit of ground, as it containeth more under the name than doth Africa or Europe. It is under a calm and temperate heaven, the soil being very fertile and fruitful, in bringing forth all sorts of herbs and plants, the reason thereof is, because it ab●undeth in all kind of beasts. It is also enriched with gold and silver, and such drugs as are not common to other countries or parts of the world: likewise with brass, iron, wool, saffron, and many other things of great price and value, especially in this part of Arabia which is called happy, containing within it ●elf an isle called Pauchaia, upon the gulf of Persia, enriched with three fair and stately cities, to wit, Dalida, Hirracida, and Occeanida, where the country is also most fertile, abosiding in wines, myrrh, incense, gold, silver, lead and other like metals, which by particular ordinance, the Pauchaians will not permit to be transported forth of other countries. Assyria, that long since was named Assur the son of Sem, is this region which ye see here, having the countries of India and Media toward the East, and westward the violent flood that passeth by the city of Rome, called Tigris: about the midst it regardeth the soil of Sus●an, and by North it is neighbour to mount Caucasus, where rain faileth, this country is watered by the river Euphrates, as Egypt in like manner is by flowing Nilus: not by natural property or abounding of the river, but by industry of the inhabiting people. Here southward to the Egyptian or meterranean sea, ye see the country so far famed & renowned, called judea or the land of Chan●an, and here is Palestine, which by help of the flood jordane is made very fruitful in many things for the life of man, especially in producing the best balm in the world. The midst of this region is so seated as ye may behold it, that neither heat or cold are at any time more over vehement there, but the air is so temperate, as the Israelites sometime imagined this to be the land of promise, even the same that God had promised to Abraham. In this country may ye see your fair cousin Pharisor for the gentle knight, who disguised like a pilgrim travaileth in search of your knight: but going on full of devotion to worship the holy sepulchre of the world's saviour, he hath met with the brave king of Phez who hath a little hindered his journey. In speaking these words the nymph showed the princess her cousin Pharisor, in the same place where we left him, listening to the good king of Phez, who recounted his adventure and genealogy to the holy hermit, by whose means he received cure of his wounds, which brought her such exceeding pleasure as is impossible to be imagined, much less to be written And had it not been for earnest desire to see her own knight, she would have entreated the nymph to tell her by what adventure he came thither, and likewise what the king of Phez was: but she was so earnest in her own affections, as having a while pleased her eyes with looking on her cousin, she importuned the fair nymph more pearcingly then before, to show her speedily the place where her own knight was, being now in far better hope of seeing him, then at any time else: the nymph willing to satisfy her longing, thus continued on her speech. If your affection drew me not so so soon from this Land, I would show ye therein many more marvelous things, as the behaviour and manner of life, of the ancient jews that inhabit it, with sundry other strange occasions, worthy to be understood: but being sent hither only to accomplish your will, and to let ye see what is most agreeable to ye, let us pass on, viewing awhile the Medes and Armenians. The country of the first took name by one of the sons of Medea, and king Aegens that long since commanded in Athens: albeit it is more likely, of one Medos, son to japhet, one of Noah's children. This neighbouring sea on the north side, is the Caspian sea, and that to the west is great Armenia and Assiria: to the south are the Persians, of whom we will speak anon, to the East lie the Pa●theans & Hirceans: these people have been mighty in war, & had large domination over divers regions as credible histories do amply bear witness: but at this present they are as slaves and subjects to the mighty and puissant monarch of Persia, who in former time conquering their king, made them tributary to his own Empire. Marry that will be but of slender continuance, by reason of your so far famed beauty, which will prove as hurtful and dangerous to them, as Helen's did to the Greeks and Troyans': and seeing now we are in talk thereof, I will let you know both the present and future adventure, and, by the same discourse, the fairy knight your long desired and wished love.  
The great monarch, who by his valour hath daily augmented and enlarged his monarchy, showing himself in all places invincible to his enemies, having by fortune seen the portrait of your beauty somewhat figured near the life became so surprised with your love, as never since hath he enjoyed any rest, which was the cause (as not long since you understood) upon amorous constraint he required you in marriage of the Emperor: but by reason of his difference in religion, the Emperor ●ound an excuse to refuse the marriage. But notwithstanding this refusal, he is grown so obstinate in his opinion, of enjoying ye either by force or fair means, thinking he cannot live without ye: as having caused his people to change their religion, to take away the former allegation of refusal, he is departed long since from his kingdom, and cometh in person into this country, only to require ye once more in marriage: when if he be denied, he means to carry ye hence, whereof it behoves ye to take heed, for he will do his uttermost, which, ye must persuade yourself, will prove no little matter. But I hope my Lady Ozyris will assi●t ye wi●h such good council, as in the end ye shall escape the hands of this tyrant, who, to speak s●oth, beareth ye entire & earnest affection. But soon after, when once he might glut himself with the sweetness of your love and favours, he will so hate and set●e his heart against you, as the most foul woman in the world, shall be more fair and amiable in his eye, than 〈◊〉, such is the nature of this barbarous king.  
Now while he travails in vain about these affairs, he shall one day see himself deprived of Crown and Sceptre, which he will take from him, whom he seeks to rob of his greatest good for this effect. See here already his kingdom troubled and divided, for you must note that all the people in his realm are revolted one against another, because some are good and true Christians, and others, only governed by frenzy, fearing that their king will renay his Christianity: & by force of arms seek to reduce the rest to their former religion, which being unable to compass, such venomous hatred and despite is kindled amongst them: as he must hope of another remedy for so great an evil, but even a new mutation of the kingdom and government, which will so come to pass in very short while. For your knight, who is arrived here but lately since, shall prove to be their new Lord and king, after he hath somewhat more travailed and suffered for the same. Then when he hath brought all into quiet, and gathered the people under his obeisance: the destinies, who will not stay his course from better fortunes, in a place so strange, and with so few exploits of his virtue and prowess: shall fill his sails to more high desires, especially the incomparable love he beareth you, and extreme affection in him, to let you see by effects, the service he hath vowed to your divins beauty: this shall make him (for some while) abandon this famous Monarchy, for ever to continue in doing deeds of virtue, laudable and worthy of great admiration. During which pursuit, these people being again revolted, he shall send hither a strong and valiant knight, who with great pain and travail, shall once more bring these mutinous rebels under his awe and obedience: his name, by reason of his generous acts and brave enterprises, shall be known from this part to the other side of the Pole, yea, he shall be so redoubted and feared, as the very hardiest shall tremble to hear him spoken of. In this time, the Sophy, transported with amorous affections, not able to compass his designs and enterprises: will unfortunately end his days, as yourself in time shall perfectly behold. You tell me marvels, answered the princess, but yet ye show me not where the knight is, according to your former promise: of whom though I was desirous to hear, yet should I be much more pleased so behold him. Lady, quoth the Nymph, it is as necessary for ye to know all these things, as it is expedient for you to see him, because I am assured, both the one and other is agreeable to ye. Look now then on this Oriental region, which is called Persia, of Perseus the son to jupiter, and fair Danae daughter to Acrisius, king of the Argives, according as poetical fables testify. Regard I pray ye, how many thousand armed men are here assembled, even for the occasion so lately expressed. See this famous City called Tauris, neighbour to the Medes, a people not long since spoken of: behold how it is besieged by the Persian pagans, under the conduct of a young fool named Mauspasian, brother to the Sophy, he that hath caused all this war: behold into what extremity these poor Christians are brought, that are within the City, they have nothing left but bread and wine to preserve life withal, and within these few days they were constrained, to ●éede upon the flesh of their horses, which was openly sold in the butcheries of this fair goodly city: yet will they not (for all this) yield to their enemies, or forsake their religion, but trusting in succour from above, because elsewhere they cannot expect any, rather desire here to finish their lives miserably. See the other goodly City of Susa, almost in the same necessity: look on distressed Ariodant, the prop and sole comfort of the Christians, who by flight escaped the hands of Adylas king of Thunis, that would have slain him by treason, because he refused to yield himself prisoner: On this other side, behold the brave minded knight Taffinor, who half dead, by good hap fell into your knight's company, and he healing him of a mortal wound, undertakes to revenge the injury done him by the traitor Adylas: O inestimable, and (not to be comprehended) courtesy, of so brave a knight. See I pray ye, with what devoir he gins to pursue this vengeance, see Argontes, the favourites of king Adylas, dead on the ground under his horse, slain by the valiant right hand of this renowned knight, with many other of his complices, the most appara●t and best knights in the host of Adylas. Not contented herewith, note with what fierce hardiness he assails the mighty pagan, even within his Tents, notwithstanding he is accompanied with three or four hundred knights of name and mark, even the men of greatest valour in all the kingdom. It will not be long, before a hot and dangerous fight happen between them, from which Adylas shall not escape (by my advise) so well as he wee●eth, Thus spoke the fair Nymph, and evermore as she discoursed, showed all these things unto the princess, who was so joyful, seeing her knight represented to the life, as she forgot to use any more questions: and albeit the figure of him was very little, yet I think no tongue can express, no pen can set down, neither hath any heart the power, to comprehend the surpassing contentment she enjoyed at this instant.  
The history reporteth it to be so great, that she wept with conceit of joy, and losing all countenance, so far forgot herself, that she offered to run and embrace him in her arms, yea, to salute him with a sweet kiss: but her labour was in vain, as well in regard, that the workmanship and vision of all these things, were not to be touched by humane creatures: as also because the fair Nymph hindered her, and would not permit her to come near it. Over and beside all the former representations, she showed her the dead figure of the Savage Polyppe, recounting the wonderful combats Gerileon had with him, in such sort as ye have read in the Chapters treating thereof. The shape hereof was so fearful to her, as she became troubled in mind out of measure: which made the Nymph quickly remove it from her sight, and plunging into the Fountain water, vanished away, with whose departure we knit up this two and twentieth Chapter.   

CHAP. 23.  
How the king of Phez recited his genealogy and adventure, to the holy Hermit and the fair Pilgrim, and how the Hermit told him a goodly discourse, to confirm him in the Christian religion. Moreover, how Squamell was conducted by diabolical arts, into an obscure Chamber hard by Avernus, hoping to be healed of his wounds by the help of devils, with that which happened to him afterward.  
BEcause the change of discourse, brings no less delight to the Reader, than the variety of dainty viands contenteth such as take their repast: for a while I intend to change our purpose, leaving a part the amorous flame of the fair princess Porphyria, to come again to the history of the valiant king of Phez, not long since made a Christian miraculously, as ye have heard before. To let ye understand withal, according to the truth in writing of him, his genealogy and adventure, whereof himself maketh recital to the holy Hermit and fair pilgrim, when he was thereto by them required, beginning in this or the like manner. It is a long while since, that Artabaz sometime king of Persia, was enamoured on the fair Queen Lyxandra, the most fair and wealthy Lady in riches and other goods of fortune, that was in those times: for under her obedience and Empire, as also her laws, lived in flourishing prosperity the people of four opulent kingdoms, which are on the coast of Barbary, to wit, Phez, Morocco, Thunis, and Alger. But love had not touched with self same shaft the heart of Lyxandra, as he did the heart of Artabaz, because the more earnestly he loved, the more mortally she hated: ●y reason, that in the life time of king Brunon her father, he had daily vexed him with wars, seeking to deprive him of his kingdoms and Signories. For this cause he travailed and molested him, as no man in the world could do the like: so that being overcome with weariness of the passed wars, Brunan finished his days, after he had made some treaty or accord of peace with the king of Persia, even then when first he began to love the fair Lyxandra: who having ancient malice engraven in her heart, continued daily in resolution to hate him more and more.  
Hereupon, she not willing to grant marriage with the Persian king, nor to listen his solicit, requests, and temptations, which stretched so far as he could devise, the particular discourse whereof were too long to rehearse: he concluded to win her by force of arms, and to renew the former wars against her, more sharp and cruelly then ever he did, against the deceased king Brunon her father. Which being thus pursued, he brought the virtuous princess into such necessity, as he left her neither kingdom, City, town, nor burrow, place nor Castle, but all was brought under his obeisance, and all of them spoiled, the strong City of Phez only excepted, wherein being constrained to shut up herself, he so long time continued the s●ege against it, as she was on the point of yielding to his mercy, or else to take away her own life: but then (by good hap) a young Knight, so highly accomplished as any other whatsoever, arrived on the coast of Barbary, even as the Queen was in this great perplexity, devising with herself what she were best to do: he hearing by the common report blazed abroad, what hard hold the Queen Lyxandra had against the Persian Tyrant, being brought so near the place, by violence of the winds that drove him on the seas: was willing to secure her, being touched partly with pitiful affection, which the goodness of nature had endned him withal, and partly provoked on by fair desire, to make appearance of his hardy valour, the fame whereof already was bru●ed through most places in the world: but seeing at this first attempt, that his access and entrance into the City (so narrowly besieged on every side) would prove very difficult, the gates being ramd up, and the walls environed with Persian men at arms. An indifferent while he devised with himself, by what mean both easily and covertly he might get entrance. Having some space considered hereon, the History saith, that he especially noted one side of the city wall, where the enemies had made a very great breach, to enter thereby on the morrow, upon the answer Queen Lyxandra should return to king Artabaz: and this breach was guarded by certain armed men of the City, while the Queen assembling her council, should agree on some express resolution of answer concerning her submission to her enemy. The assailants on the other side of the breach, were making banquets, passing away the time very merrily, under certain assurance, that now the city should be yielded or taken, upon their request within of composition: and well ye wots, that a City coming to composition, is more than half taken. This was the cause, that the young knight being come near the breach, and seeing they that kept it were very careful of their charge, he softly whispered with them, to know by what means he might enter the city, to have some speech with the queen Lyxandra, concerning matters of importance that would prove profitable to her, desiring them to let her understand thereof, in that the cause of his coming thither, was earnest desire to employ himself for her defence in this war.  
The Soldiers made him answer, that one should presently go do his errand, and the Queen being advertised hereof, was very glad, knowing well by his renown and valour, that he was the gentle knight of the Flower, (for so was he called, because as then he loved a Lady named Florixa, in regard of whose name, he bore a Uermillion Gillyflower painted in his shield) a man so hardy and valiant, as he was esteemed beyond all the knights of that time. Here upon she gave comman●dement, that he should be let into the City, by a door that passed from her Castle▪ to the Town: marry it was to be done in the dead time of the night, and that so covertly or closely as might be: thus escaped the knight in, unseen of the enemy, with his armour and horse, and one Squire that bore him company. In brief, to tell ye what passed between them, the queen letting him understand the occasion of this war, the success thereof, and the extremity whereinto she was brought far more in effect then the knight had heard reported: she fell down on her knees before him, and with the tears trickling down her cheeks, entreated him, to help her both with council and valiance, promising to deliver up all the treasure of her kingdom into his hands, if in this darkness he could illuminate them with some means, whereby they might escape the tyrant's power, that forcibly sought to make a rape of her, whereunto before she would condescend, she minded to murder herself with her own hands.  
When the knight of the Flower had noted his words, desire of honour provoked him rather to fight for her, than all her tears, & promised her, with the help of God, that dread of death, should not withhold him from defence of her case, which according to her recital, seemed to him most just and reasonable. In this resolve, he thus advised the Queen to answer the Persian tyrant, that she would not yield herself to his mercy, before she made some proof of the love he bore her, a●d whether it were so effectual, that he durst on the morrow adventure the combat, against one knight, man to man, with what arms himself would choose. For one should be sent forth of the City, armed at all points, whom if he could vanquish, she would condescend to his will: but if the contrary happened, and he were conquered he should raise his siege, and departed with his host from before the City, delivering and restoring into her repossession, all such Cities, towns, boroughs, places, castles, lands and signiories, as he had taken and ruined, rendering and restoring to her likewise, all the treasure, which she spent to maintain her resistance in war, the vale we and sum whereof he should credit a●d believe upon her own oath.  
If he pleased not to accept this offer▪ she was determined to kill herself with her own hands, rather than she would grant what he so earnestly desired. This council was so agreeable to the Queen, that presently she dispatched a messenger to Artabaz, to hear from him some answer or resolution. At this message he did nothing but smile and laugh, in derision and mockery (as it were) assuring himself of the victory: and therefore accepted the Combat, with knights ordinary arms of Lance and Sword: but to make short, the knight of the Flower and he combated the next day man to man, in such sort and so long time, as (after a fierce and extreme cruel fight) Artabaz was vanquished, and yielded prisoner to the Queen Lyxander: where by means of the knight of the Flower, he forcibly was compelled to perform the articles & conventions, solemnly sworn on either part before the combat. When Artabaz was enlarged from the queens prison, conquered despite and despa●●e, he ran himself upon his own sword, to let out the love he before had conceived towards the Queen Lixandra, who thus was delivered from misery and captivity, as also the violent fury of so great an enemy. Nor failed ●he to thank the young knight the mean of her deliverance, entertaining and feasting him there the space of a whole year, even perforce, as it were, causing him to tarry with her, so that in the end she became enamoured of him, and but that she was a Pagan and he a Christian, he being likewise else where vowed, she would have joined with him in marriage. And notwithstanding this prohibiting bond, both of the one and other religion, she could not support the extreme flame of this amorous fire, but being overcome with incontinency, was constrained to yield herself in such sort, as she had knowledge of him almost against his heart and will. How oft this continued I know not, but within short time she was conceived, which the young knight perceiving, being weary of these amorous sport, which else where ought to be employed, even in place where his heart served, one day secretly getting from his company, and being disguised, he went whether the wind and fortune would conduct him. At his departure she was marvelously discomforted, causing diligent search to be made for him in all places her land, as also far and near to inquire after him, being willing to change her religion and become a Christian, only to marry with him, or once more to get him in her custody. But hearing by credible report, that he was the valiant Brandismel, king of great Britain, who being a young knight, so changed his name and disguised his arms, having espoused his Florixa, from whom came the king Floridamant, of whom at this day is held such account: she comforted herself so well as she could, and covered her fault so cunningly, that albeit she was great with child, she married with the worthy Knight Florinor, at that day king of Armenia, in time of whieh marriage, by about seven 〈◊〉 after, she was delivered of a goodly son called Florant, in remembrance of the knight of the Flower his father. Within three years after she had three other sons, one named Adylas, the second Phoas, & the third Orontes, all found such hardy & adventurous knights as ever lived in any time.  
Now because Ferramond was chased forth of Armenia, by Clarion brother to Artabaz, who was king after him and father to Mutinel at this time reigning, a long while he vexed him with wars, to recover home his kingdom again, but he could not compass what he intended, until Florant grew strong and able to carry arms, who being assisted with a mighty and puissant army, and especially employed in these affairs, went forward with his charge so effectually, that he expelled thence Clarion and his people, who grew into such vexation hereat, as seeing he was no longer able to stand against him, he caused him traitorously to be slain by four Persians, who counterfeiting to come in embassage to him, with letters pretended from Clarion, as he talked alone with them in his chamber, they cruelly murdered him with certain pistols, which for the purpose they had closely hid under their mantles. Florinor who took himself to be his father, was so offended and grieved hereat, as a good father will naturally be for the death of so valiant a son, and sent Adylas his other son, with a far more great and stately army, to revenge the death of Florant his brother, but he followed his business so slenderly, that albeit he was a valiant knight, there he lest his life and his army discomfited, which went so near the heart of Florinor, that with conceit of grief he died, being then aged in years, as likewise was his Queen Lixandra, who carefully nourished me up being the son of Florant, and endued with his name, as also young Adylas, bearing likewise name after his slain father. In this time or soon after the death of Florinor, Phoaz and Orantes, seeking after adventures as knights arrant, pricked forward with desire of fame and honour, were slain in two several encounters by king Floridamant, being then as they were, a young knight, and following the same affairs. Each of them left a son behind them bearing their own names, who likewise remained in the charge and keeping of Queen Lixandra our grandmother, she very carefully nourished and brought us up, especially me, to whom very often she discoursed these accidents: and little before her death (which rather was through age than any other extremity) she parted and divided the kingdoms between us, appointing to one the realm of Phez. Adylas, Phaos, and Orontes, my cousins, had given to them the three other signiories, to wit, Morocco, Thunis and Alger, wherewith we all have been well contented, without quarreling or falling at debate for any cause whatsoever.  
But we being as yet very young, were assailed again by Mutinel the king of Persia, in revenge of Artabaz death his predecessor, and would have deprived us again of our kingdoms: but we so well defended ourselves, as he could not altogether defeat us of our right, but in regard of our over young years, we promised him certain yearly tribute, and obeisance or homage, when he would command us to have it done, which ever since we have daily continued, and in consequence hereof, being charged by him to arm themselves against the king of great Britain, in company of king Brandissant and his brethren, to ruinated and destroy all christendom together, we entered on the seas with a goodly great army thitherward, and sailing merrily certain days in our voyage, we were surprised with a great tempest, which separated us one from another, in such sort, as I know not what is become of the rest. Well wots I, that my ship was wrackte against a huge rock, and none saved alive of all that were with me but myself alone.  
Since when, having recovered horse and armour, such as by fortune I brought with me into the forest of great adventures, where meeting a proud and arrogant knight, that challenged all passengers to combat with him, promising for prize of their victory a goodly horse, a fair armour, and a golden cup of inestimable value: desirous to gain these three if I could, I entered the combat with him, and all day we fought together, without appearance of victory on either side till the very declining of the day, when we were even on the point to know where the lot would fall, when another knight no less valiant than proud, came to trouble our intent, very furiously assailing us both. In which sirange conflict it chanced that this courteous Lord came, and seeing our confused order of fight, beheld how I was wounded, of which hurts, through the mighty and supreme divine virtue, I am now healed.  
Thus good Father, have I fully satisfied your request, if ye will command me any other service, assure yourself I will do it very gladly. Thus king Florent of Phez ended his discourse, when the old hermit began an excellent exhortation to confirm him sound in the christian faith, charging him to live and die in defence thereof, and not to persecute it as before he had done. Taking occasion by the example of Saint Paul, to incite him forward to his duty, according as he proceeded in God's service after he was so divinely called. When he had finished his sermon, where with the king was highly satisfied and contented, after he had humbly thanked him for so great good received, he departed in company of the fair pilgrim, with him to go visit the holy sepulchre of jesus Christ: where what happened to them afterward, you shall read at large in the third volume of this worthy history, which (if God permit) you shall see very shortly.  

The discourse of the Giant Squamell.  
SQuamell the over weening proud knight, mighty in strength and of Giantine stature, was conducted on the black river (as ye have heard) very far under the earth, by the diabolical art of the Necromancer Charonifor, even into a dark chamber full of fire and smoke, the very next neighbout to black Auernos: wherein he was no sooner arrived, but certain young spirits or devils, the waiting servants on the sorcerer, came quickly about him, four bringing unguents, others clothes, another a candle of Rosen to light their master, that he might make ready his necessary emplasters, wherewith the Giants wounds should be healed. And he being half dead, was laid along on a bank before a great fire, that burned extremely within the chamber, which only served to give them light night and day: three times he swooned, while Chironifer his chirurgeon felt the depth of his mortal wounds, which notwithstanding, by his speedy help, succour, and diligence, within few days after were made very whole and sound. Right well he knew how to thank the Necromancer, vowing his love for ever after to him: and Charonifer likewise as glad of his health exhorted him still to follow his adventure, and return to the Forest where he was wounded, there to stay till he met a knight in black armour, mounted on the horse which was one of the prizes of the combat, assuring him, that he was one of the best knights in the world. If therefore he 〈◊〉 at honour and reputation, such as beseemed ●he order of knighthood, he should not rest till he had fought with him and slain him, otherwise it he failed in this 〈…〉 great 〈…〉 perform 〈◊〉 departing from his nightly shade, after he had taken leave of the Necromancer: he was conducted back again by the same way he went, entering the black Boat, to go view the light of the sun, which he had never seen since he ●ame thither. Being in little while arrived in the forest of high adventures, and riding by the morning light, the space of an hour: he found a Lady of marvelous beauty hanging by the neck on a Tree, the fatal instrument, being the laces that bond up her hair, which being disheveled round about her, hung down to her very feet. The Giant presently knew her to be the Lady Lucinda whom sometime he loved, and now so mortally hated, as he was not a little joyful to behold this sight: lauding his gods, especially Cupid, who so meritoriously revenged the rigour, which she in former time had used toward him: for when he entirely loved her, she scorned him, wherefore in ●esting manner he embraced the dead body, swinging her about from one side to another: but at last he was ware of a paper, which with a small thread was fastened on her bosom, which he taking down, and seeing them to be verses, read them to himself in this manner.  

The verses written on a little Label, and fastened about the ladies neck, as she hung upon the Tree  
THou that goest by, if pity thee possess,  
then take compassion on this noble dame:  
Who foiled by love, and fortune's forwardness,  
here (as thou seest) hath done a deed of shame.  
Making her hands the engines of her death,  
And on this Tree sent forth her latest breath.   

If ●hou be knight, and valour dost contain,  
do thy devoir, to wreak her hapless end:  
On cruel Squamell, honours foulest stain,  
whom tears nor treats could make a Lady's friend.  
But full of rancour, pride and high disdain:  
Still made her breath her sighs & suits in vain.   

If thou be Lady, or some virtuous dame;  
and know'st the man that holds thy favours dear:  
Love him again, and think not on my name,  
in whom the effects of scorn doth well appear,  
I was beloved, and then I would not favour,  
I sued for love, and have this for my labour.   

As when he loved, I coily made refuse,  
so when I loved, he did disdain my sight:  
I would not yield when liked him to choose,  
he would not grant when I would if I might.  
Let this vile death for my contempt suffice:  
And my example make all other wise.   
When Squamell had read these lines, he was so overcome with choler and despite, as letting fall the writing, he set hand to his Scimitar, where with he smote at the Lady, and cut her quite thorough in the midst by her girdle: so that the one part of the body, to wit, the head, neck, shoulders and sides remained hanging on the tree, and the belly, flanks, thighs, legs and feet tumbled on the ground, a thing very cruel, hideous, and ghastly to be seen. Having in this sort some what appeased his anger, he did nothing but laugh, breathing forth many injurious speeches against her: at which very instant, an other Giant of marvelous stature, exceeding Squamell in height by the head, arrived there, who hearing him speak such vile words, and seeing withal such an inhuman deed: thought good to check and reprove him for it in this manner.  
Knight, thou mayst well blush with shame, that any one should ever see thee bear mark of chivalry, and the arms which thou dost wear: employing them so hadly as thou hast done, upon a poor and miserable creature, whose unhappy destiny brought her to this end. I think if thou wouldst show thyself so virtuous and valiant, to so many brave knights, which ordinarily pass thorough this forest, as thou hast witnessed thyself most monstrous and cruel toward this poor body: thou shouldst find other affairs better beseeming a knight then this●, and wherein thou mightest with greater honesty spend thy time. How now companion? answered Squamell, darest thou be so bold as come hither to reprove my actions, which are so virtuous and worthy, as heaven, earth, and all contained therein do admire them? especially this last deed by me done upon this Lady, is so deservedly to be praised, as if thou knewest the occasion thereof, thou wouldst commend and reckon me among other knights of virtue, that do daily make high esteem of me, and that more worthily, than thou canst dare thus rashly to reprehend me: but because I repute thee unworthy to know this occasion, I have nothing else to say unto thee, but if with speed thou get thee not gone: I will learn thee against an other time to speak more wisely, in that I have the power both to tame and teach. And albeit thou art of bigger constitution than I, yet will I show thee, that in all the rest thou art far less and inferior to me: and for I am loath to lay any hand upon thee, but only the very greatness of my name, which is sufficient to make thee fly quickly out of my provence, know that I am the great and puissant knight Squamell, the renown of whose virtue enuirones all the world, and serves as a terror to the most audacious and hardiest knight.  
Knight, replied the Giant, I have heard speech of thee, and the bruit of thy name hath often heretofore pierced mine ears: yet (for all that) I am nothing hasty of flight, because I do not imagine thee to be so hardy and valiant, as the thundering report that hath been blazed of thee for if thou hast heard report of the mighty Ferclaste, Androfort and Ergofe●ant, thou hast well understood, that never might any knight be equalled in force and prowess with them: but the hardiest and stoutest indeed have fled at the renown of their names.  
Their ●ame while they lived was noised far and near, so likewise was the worthy ●●abot: then mayst thou well think and assure thyself, that I who am Ergoferant, the only survivor of those three, do greatly scorn to fly from thee, except some greater matter enforce or constrain me. What, answered Squamell, art thou one of those three huge Colossuses, that served as a terror to all Gréece? and of those three remaineth none alive but thee? Tell me what is become of thy brethren, for if they be dead, assure thyself I am greatly displeased, in respect of the earnest desire I had to combat with them, and conquer ye all three one after another, not for any love I did ever bear ye, or doubting any hatred ye all durst bear me. Content thyself, said Ergoferant, that thou know●st there were such three, thou must now enter the combat alone against me, I shall be sufficient to break thy foolish pate, and cause thee quickly give over this proud daring speech. To know what is become of my brethren, how they were slain, and by whom, I am not to tell thee, because thou hast shown to little courtesy to me, in scorning to tell me this. Lady's misfortune, and the occasion of thy hatred to her, urging thee to commit such a monstrous and inhuman act, in this respect I think thee unworthy to know their mishaps. I perceive well (quoth Squamel) why thou darest not tell me, because their end was with such shame and reproach, as it were thy dishonour, being their brother, to make report thereof, for perhaps, as it is no other like, some knight of small valour hath slain them, and by conquest brought thee likewise under his obeisance. Thou liest in thy throat, answered Ergoferant, for a knight of slender valour could not conquer them, nor yet subject me to his obedience, but if I yielded myself to any one, assure thyself he was no mean man of virtues. And that thou mayst bear record thereof, we trifle too much time in prating, let the effects declare which of us two proveth most valiant, otherwise thou dost but seek occasion to shun the combat, which take as thou will, for I will dally no longer. So saying, with a mighty maze which he bore, he let drive at his adversary, & the stroke fell with such violence, he standing with his scimitar drawn to defend it, as had he not withstood it with wonderful strength, it had laid him on the ground. But Squamell well awarded this horrible blow, without receiving any great damage thereby, and delivered back a sound answer for the same with his scimitar, which the giant escaped in as ample manner: and thus began between them a sharp and cruel fight, continuing the space of two hours, without discovery which side had most advantage, but in the end it so fell out, that Squamel was readier to fight on horseback than the other, knowing how to turn and manage his horse for most harm to his enemy, marry Ergoferant was nothing so nimble, only his strokes were more weighty than his adversaries, but he was nothing comparable in dexterie and nimbleness, which is the only thing required in a combat. At length Squamel began to be very sore travailed, when suddenly arrived in place a knight of so little stature, as he might easily stand under the cloven of either of them, he galloping with the full career of his horse, having a fair broad glistering sword in his hand, which he handled so lightly, as if it had been a little riding wand, yet was it in sight so heavy, as it he could not have lifted it with both his hands. To each of the combatants he gave a marvelous stroke, saying, hold and cease your fight, to tell me forth the occasion of your combat. Ergoferant was astoned here at, as giving his horse the bridle, without conduct or government he ran away, keeping no direct course, but here and there over the forest, as in short space he was far enough from his enemy. Squamel likewise was so amazed with his stroke, as albeit he reigned his horse as strongly as he could, yet ran he away with him swifter than the wind, carrying him also as far off the other way. hereat they both marveled not a little, especially the short knight, who seeing them fight so fiercely, reputed them of greater valour than to fly away so speedily. But kn●●●ng as then no reason hereof, he fell into a great laughter, till suddenly he espied the lady hanging, when having a pretty while beheld her, both the mangled trunk and the rest lying on the ground, perceiving she had been of singular beauty, he took some compassion on her misfortune, especially after he had read the verses, which he found on the ground where Squamel had thrown them: and so entirely was he moved with pity, as he resolved to know who had caused her mishap, to the end he might work some revenge therefore. Hereupon he would ride to meet one of the two combatants, by force or fair means to know how this happened: now while he is searching them, not only will I here conclude this Chapter, but also the sceond book of this famous History.  
Thus Gentlemen, here knit we up the second part of gerileon's history, if this may find but wished entertainment, the third partshall follow with all speed possible. In mean while an old promise remaineth to be performed, namely, the first book of Primaleon o● Greece, which by God's permission ye shall have the next Term, if it may be finished so soon. Let then Gerileon's welcome hasten on Primaleon.  A. Mundy. 
FINIS.