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And now it seemes, that she suborned hath
This craftie messenger with letters vaine,
To worke new woe and improuided scath,
By breaking of the band betwixt vs twaine;
Wherein she vsed hath the practicke paine
Of this false footman, clokt with simplenesse,
Whom if ye please for to discouer plaine,
-Ye shall him Archimago find, I ghesse,
The falsest man aliue; who tries shall find no
The king was greatly moued at her speach,
And all with suddein indignation fraight,
Bad on that Messenger rude hands to reach.
Eftsoones the Gard, which on his state did
Attacht that faitor false, and bound him strait:
Who seeming sorely chauffed at his band,
As chained Beare, whom cruell dogs do bait,
With idle force did faine them to withstand,
And often semblaunce made to scape out of
But they him layd full low in dungeon deepe, And bound him hand and foote with yron chains.
And with continuall watch did warely keepe; Who then would thinke, that by his subtile trains
He could escape fowle death or deadly paines? Thus when that Princes wrath was pacifide, He gan renew the late forbidden banes, And to the knight his daughter deare he tyde, With sacred rites and vowes for euer to abyde.
His owne two hands the holy knots did knit,
That none but death for euer can deuide;
His owne two hands, for such a turne most fit,
The housling fire did kindle and prouide,
And holy water thereon sprinckled wide;
At which the bushy Teade a groome did light,
And sacred lampe in secret chamber hide,
Where it should not be quenched day nor
For feare of euill fates, but burnen euer bright.
Then gan they sprinckle all the posts with wine, And made great feast to solemnize that day; They all perfumde with frankencense diuine, And precious odours fetcht from far away, That all the house did sweat with great aray: And all the while sweete Musicke did apply Her curious skill, the warbling notes to play, To drive away the dull Melancholy;
The whiles one sung a song of loue and iollity.
The which O pardon me thus to enfold
In couert vele, and wrap in shadowes light,
That feeble eyes your glory may behold,
Which else could not endure those beames
But would be dazled with exceeding light.
O pardon, and vouchsafe with patient eare
The braue aduentures of this Faery knight
The good Sir Guyon gratiously to heare,
In whom great rule of Temp'raunce goodly
Guyon by Archimage abusd,
The Redcrosse knight awaytes, Findes Mordant and Amauia slaine
With pleasures poisoned baytes.
That cunning Architect of cancred guile,
Whom Princes late displeasure left in bands,
For falsed letters and suborned wile,
Soone as the Redcrosse knight he vnderstands
To beene departed out of Eden lands,
To serue againe his soueraine Elfin Queene,
His artes he moues, and out of caytiues hands
Himselfe he frees by secret meanes vnseene;
His shackles emptie left, him selfe escaped
And forth he fares full of malicious mind,
To worken mischiefe and auenging woe,
Where euer he that godly knight may find,
His onely hart sore, and his onely foe,
Sith Vna now he algates must forgoe,
Whom his victorious hands did earst restore
To natiue crowne and kingdome late ygoe:
Where she enioyes sure peace for euermore,
As weather-beaten ship arriu'd on happie shore.
Him therefore now the obiect of his spight
And deadly food he makes him to offend
By forged treason, or by open fight
He seekes, of all his drift the aymed end:
Thereto his subtile engins he does bend,
His practick wit, and his faire filed tong,
With thousand other sleights: for well he
His credit now in doubtfull ballaunce hong; For hardly could be hurt, who was already stong.
Him als accompanyd vpon the way
A comely Palmer, clad in blacke attire,
Of ripest yeares, and haires all hoarie gray,
That with a staffe his feeble steps did stire,
Least his long way his aged limbes should tire:
And if by lookes one may the mind aread,
He seemd to be a sage and sober sire,
And euer with slow pace the knight did lead,
Who taught his trampling steed with equali
steps to tread.
Such whenas Archimago them did view,
He weened well to worke some vncouth wile,
Eftsoones vntwisting his deceiptfull clew,
He gan to weaue a web of wicked guile,
And with faire countenance and flattring stile,
To them approching, thus the knight bespake:
Faire sonne of Mars, that seeke with warlike
And great atchieu'ments great your selfe to make,
Vouchsafe to stay your steed for humble misers sake.