_Host._ Sirrah go to _Nick_ the _Barber_, and bid him prepare himself, as I told you before quickly. _Tap._ I am gone Sir. [_Exit Tapster._ _Host._ Sir Knight, this wilderness affordeth none But the great venture, where full many a Knight Hath tried his prowess, and come off with shame, And where I would not have you loose your life, Against no man, but furious fiend of Hell. _Rafe._ Speak on Sir Knight, tell what he is, and where: For here I vow upon my blazing badge, Never to blaze a day in quietness; But bread and water will I only eat, And the green herb and rock shall be my couch Till I have queld that man, or beast, or fiend, That works such damage to all Errant Knights. _Host._ Not far from hence, near [to] a craggy cliff At the North end of this distressed Town, There doth stand a lowly house Ruggedly builded, and in it a Cave In which an ugly Giant now doth won, Ycleped _Barbaroso_: in his hand He shakes a naked Lance of purest steel, With sleeves turn'd up, and him before he wears, A motly garment to preserve his clothes From blood of those Knights which he massacres, And Ladies Gentle: without his door doth hang A copper bason, on a prickant Spear; At which, no sooner gentle Knights can knock, But the shrill sound, fierce _Barbaroso_ hears, And rushing forth, brings in the Errant Knight, And sets him down in an inchanted chair: Then with an Engine, which he hath prepar'd With forty teeth, he claws his courtly crown, Next makes him wink, and underneath his chin, He plants a brazen piece of mighty board, And knocks his bullets round about his cheeks, Whilst with his fingers, and an instrument With which he snaps his hair off, he doth fill The wretches ears with a most hideous noyse. Thus every Knight Adventurer he doth trim, And now no creature dares encounter him. _Rafe._ In Gods name, I will fight with him, kind sir, Go but before me to this dismal Cave Where this huge Giant _Barbaroso_ dwells, And by that virtue that brave _Rosicleere_, That damn'd brood of ugly Giants slew, And _Palmerin Frannarco_ overthrew: I doubt not but to curb this Traytor foul, And to the Devil send his guilty Soul. _Host._ Brave sprighted Knight, thus far I will perform This your request, I'll bring you within sight Of this most loathsome place, inhabited By a more lothsome man: but dare not stay, For his main force swoops all he sees away. _Rafe._ Saint _George_ set on before, march Squire and Page. [_Exeunt._ _Wife. George_, dost think _Rafe_ will confound the Giant? _Cit._ I hold my cap to a farthing he does: why _Nell_, I saw him wrestle with the great Dutchman, and hurle him.