When he these bitter byting words had red, xxix The tydings straunge did him abashed make, That still he sate long time astonished As in great muse, ne word to creature spake. At last his solemne silence thus he brake, With doubtfull eyes fast fixed on his guest; Redoubted knight, that for mine onely sake Thy life and honour late aduenturest, Let nought be hid from me, that ought to be exprest. What meane these bloudy vowes, and idle threats, xxx Throwne out from womanish impatient mind? What heauens? what altars? what enraged heates Here heaped vp with termes of loue vnkind, My conscience cleare with guilty bands would bind? High God be witnesse, that I guiltlesse ame. But if your selfe, Sir knight, ye faultie find, Or wrapped be in loues of former Dame, With crime do not it couer, but disclose the same. To whom the _Redcrosse_ knight this answere sent, xxxi My Lord, my King, be nought hereat dismayd, Till well ye wote by graue intendiment, What woman, and wherefore doth me vpbrayd With breach of loue, and loyalty betrayd. It was in my mishaps, as hitherward I lately traueild, that vnwares I strayd[424] Out of my way, through perils straunge and hard; That day should faile me, ere I had them all declard. There did I find, or rather I was found xxxii Of this false woman, that _Fidessa_ hight, _Fidessa_ hight the falsest Dame on ground, Most false _Duessa_, royall richly dight, That easie was t’[425] inuegle weaker sight: Who by her wicked arts, and wylie skill, Too false and strong for earthly skill or might, Vnwares me wrought vnto her wicked will, And to my foe betrayd, when least I feared ill. Then stepped forth the goodly royall Mayd, xxxiii And on the ground her selfe prostrating low, With sober countenaunce thus to him sayd; O pardon me, my soueraigne Lord, to show The secret treasons, which of late I know To haue bene wroght by that false sorceresse. She onely she it is, that earst did throw This gentle knight into so great distresse, That death him did awaite in dayly wretchednesse. And now it seemes, that she suborned hath xxxiv This craftie messenger with letters vaine[426], 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[427] tries shall find no lesse.