All these before the gates of Pluto lay, By whom they passing spake unto them nought; But th' Elfin knight with wonder all the way Did feed his eyes, and fild his inner thought. At last him to a little dore he brought, That to the gate of Hell, which gaped wide, Was next adjoyning, ne them parted ought: Betwixt them both was but a little stride, That did the house of Richesse from hell-mouth divide. Before the dore sat selfe-consuming Care, Day and night keeping wary watch and ward, For feare least Force or Fraud should unaware Breake in, and spoile the treasure there in gard: Ne would he suffer Sleepe once thither-ward Approch, albe his drowsy den were next; For next to Death is Sleepe to be compard;{33} Therefore his house is unto his annext: Here Sleep, ther Richesse, and Hel-gate them both betwext. So soon as Mammon there arrivd, the dore To him did open and affoorded way: Him followed eke Sir Guyon evermore, Ne darknesse him, ne daunger might dismay. Soone as he entred was, the dore streight way Did shutt, and from behind it forth there lept An ugly feend, more fowle then dismall day, The which with monstrous stalke behind him stept, And ever as he went dew watch upon him kept. Well hoped hee, ere long that hardy guest, If ever covetous hand, or lustfull eye, Or lips he layd on thing that likte him best, Or ever sleepe his eie-strings did untye, Should be his pray. And therefore still on hye He over him did hold his cruell clawes, Threatning with greedy gripe to doe him dye, And rend in peeces with his ravenous pawes, If ever he transgrest the fatal Stygian lawes. That houses forme within was rude and strong, Lyke an huge cave hewne out of rocky clifte, From whose rough vaut the ragged breaches hong Embossed with massy gold of glorious guifte, And with rich metall loaded every rifte, That heavy ruine they did seeme to threatt; And over them Arachne high did lifte Her cunning web, and spred her subtile nett, Enwrapped in fowle smoke and clouds more black than Jett. Both roofe, and floore, and walls, were all of gold, But overgrowne with dust and old decay, And hid in darkenes, that none could behold The hew thereof; for vew of cherefull day Did never in that house it selfe display, But a faint shadow of uncertain light: Such as a lamp, whose life does fade away, Or as the Moone, cloathed with clowdy night, Does show to him that walkes in feare and sad affright.