LXXXIX The beauteous Doralice, who sees her guide So quit the field, -- dismayed at his retreat, And wonted in his succour to confide, Her hackney drives behind his courser fleet: The paynim rates the charger, in his pride, And smites him oftentimes with hands and feet; Threatening, as if he understood his lore; And where he'd stop the courser, chafes him more. XC Not looking to his feet, by high or low, The beast of craven kind, with headlong force Three miles in rings had gone, and more would go, But that into a fosse which stopt their course, Not lined with featherbed or quilt below, Tumble, reversed, the rider and his horse. On the hard ground was Mandricardo thrown, Yet neither spoiled himself, nor broke a bone: XCI Here stopt the horse; but him he could not guide, Left without bit his motions to restrain. Brimfull of rage and choler, at his side, The Tartar held him, grappled by the mane. "Put upon him" (to Mandricardo cried His lady, Doralice) "my hackney's rein, Since for the bridle I have little use; For gentle is my palfrey, reined or loose." XCII The paynim deems it were discourtesy To accept the proffer by the damsel made. But his through other means a rein will be; Since Fortune, who his wishes well appaid, Made thitherward the false Gabrina flee, After she young Zerbino had betrayed: Who like a she-wolf fled, which, as she hies, At distance hears the hounds and hunters' cries. XCIII She had upon her back the gallant gear, And the same youthful ornaments and vest, Stript from the ill-taught damsel for her jeer, That in her spoils the beldam might be drest, And rode the horse that damsel backed whilere; Who was among the choicest and the best. Ere yet aware of her, the ancient dame On Doralice and Mandricardo came. XCIV Stordilane's daughter and the Tartar king Laugh at the vest of youthful show and shape, Upon that ancient woman, figuring Like monkey, rather say, like grandam ape. From her the Saracen designs to wring The rein, and does the deed: upon the rape Of the crone's bridle, he, with angry cry, Threatens and scares her horse, and makes him fly. XCV He flies and hurries through the forest gray That ancient woman, almost dead with fear, By hill and dale, by straight and crooked way, By fosse and cliff, at hazard, there and here. But it imports me not so much to say Of her, that I should leave Anglantes' peer; Who, from annoyance of a foe released, The broken saddle at his ease re-pieced. XCVI He mounts his horse, and watches long, before Departing, if the foe will re-appear; Nor seeing puissant Mandricardo more, At last resolves in search of him to steer. But, as one nurtured well in courtly lore, From thence departed not the cavalier, Till he with kind salutes, in friendly strain, Fair leaves had taken of the loving twain.