Then when as vse of speach was from her reft, xiii With her two crooked handes she signes did make, And beckned him, the last helpe she had left: But he that last left helpe away did take, And both her hands fast bound vnto a stake, That she note stirre. Then gan her sonne to flie Full fast away, and did her quite forsake; But _Guyon_ after him in haste did hie, And soone him ouertooke in sad perplexitie. In his strong armes he stiffely him embraste, xiv Who him gainstriuing, nought at all preuaild: For all his power was vtterly defaste, And furious fits at earst quite weren quaild: Oft he re’nforst, and oft his forces fayld, Yet yield he would not, nor his rancour slacke. Then him to ground he cast, and rudely hayld, And both his hands fast bound behind his backe, And both his feet in fetters to an yron racke. With hundred yron chaines he did him bind, xv And hundred knots that did him sore constraine: Yet his great yron teeth he still did grind, And grimly gnash, threatning reuenge in vaine; His burning eyen, whom bloudie strakes did staine, Stared full wide, and threw forth sparkes of fire, And more for ranck despight, then for great paine, Shakt his long lockes, colourd like copper-wire, And bit his tawny beard to shew his raging ire. Thus when as _Guyon_ _Furor_ had captiu’d, xvi Turning about he saw that wretched Squire, Whom that mad man of life nigh late depriu’d, Lying on ground, all soild with bloud and mire: Whom when as he perceiued to respire, He gan to comfort, and his wounds to dresse. Being at last recured, he gan inquire, What hard mishap him brought to such distresse, And made that caitiues thral, the thral of wretchednesse. With hart then throbbing, and with watry eyes, xvii Faire Sir (quoth he) what man can shun the hap, That hidden lyes vnwares him to surpryse?[559] Misfortune waites aduantage to entrap The man most warie in her whelming lap. So me weake wretch, of many weakest one[560], Vnweeting, and vnware of such mishap, She brought to mischiefe through occasion[561], Where this same wicked villein did me light vpon[562]. It was a faithlesse Squire, that was the sourse xviii Of all my sorrow, and of these sad teares, With whom from tender dug of commune nourse, Attonce I was vpbrought, and eft when yeares More rype vs reason lent to chose our Peares, Our selues in league of vowed loue we knit: In which we long time without gealous feares, Or[563] faultie thoughts continewd, as was fit; And for my part I vow, dissembled not a whit.