Whom _Guyon_ seeing stoup, pursewed fast xii The present offer of faire victory, And soone his dreadfull blade about he cast, Wherewith he smote his haughty crest so hye, That streight on ground made him full low to lye; Then on his brest his victour foote he thrust, With that he cryde, Mercy, do me not dye, Ne deeme thy force by[589] fortunes doome vniust, That hath (maugre her spight) thus low me laid in dust. Eftsoones his cruell hand Sir _Guyon_ stayd, xiii Tempring the passion with aduizement slow, And maistring might on enimy dismayd: For th’equall dye of warre he well did know; Then to him said, Liue and allegaunce owe, To him that giues thee life and libertie, And henceforth by this dayes ensample trow, That hasty wroth, and heedlesse hazardrie Do breede repentaunce late, and lasting infamie. So vp he let him rise, who with grim looke xiv And count’naunce sterne vpstanding, gan to grind His grated teeth for great disdeigne, and shooke His sandy lockes, long hanging downe behind, Knotted in bloud and dust, for griefe of mind, That he in ods of armes was conquered; Yet in himselfe some comfort he did find, That him so noble knight had maistered, Whose bounty more then might, yet both he wondered. Which _Guyon_ marking said, Be nought agrieu’d, xv Sir knight, that thus ye now subdewed arre: Was neuer man, who most conquestes atchieu’d,[590] But sometimes had the worse, and lost by warre, Yet shortly gaynd, that losse exceeded farre: Losse is no shame, nor to be lesse then foe, But to be lesser, then himselfe, doth marre Both loosers lot, and victours prayse alsoe. Vaine others ouerthrowes, who selfe[591] doth ouerthrowe. Fly, O _Pyrochles_, fly the dreadfull warre, xvi That in thy selfe thy lesser parts do moue, Outrageous anger, and woe-working iarre, Direfull impatience, and hart murdring loue; Those, those thy foes, those warriours far remoue, Which thee to endlesse bale captiued lead. But sith in might thou didst my mercy proue, Of curtesie to me the cause aread,[592] That thee against me drew with so impetuous dread. Dreadlesse (said he) that shall I soone declare: xvii It was complaind, that thou hadst done great tort Vnto an aged woman, poore and bare, And thralled her in chaines with strong effort, Voide of all succour and needfull comfort: That ill beseemes thee, such as I thee see, To worke such shame. Therefore I thee exhort, To chaunge thy will, and set _Occasion_[593] free, And to her captiue sonne yield his first libertee.