And other whiles vaine toyes she would deuize vii As her fantasticke wit did most delight, Sometimes her head she fondly would aguize With gaudie girlonds, or fresh flowrets dight About her necke, or rings of rushes plight; Sometimes to doe him laugh, she would assay To laugh at shaking of[618] the leaues light, Or to behold the water worke, and play About her litle frigot, therein making way. Her light behauiour, and loose dalliaunce viii Gaue wondrous great contentment to the knight, That of his way he had no souenaunce, Nor care of vow’d reuenge, and cruell fight, But to weake wench did yeeld his martiall might. So easie was to quench his flamed mind With one sweet drop of sensuall delight,[619] So easie is, t’appease the stormie wind Of malice in the calme of pleasant womankind. Diuerse discourses in their way they spent, ix Mongst which _Cymochles_ of her questioned, Both what she was, and what that vsage ment, Which in her cot she daily practised. Vaine man (said she) that wouldest be reckoned A straunger in thy home, and ignoraunt Of _Phædria_ (for so my name is red) Of _Phædria_, thine owne fellow seruaunt; For thou to serue _Acrasia_ thy selfe doest vaunt. In this wide Inland sea, that hight by name x The _Idle lake_, my wandring ship I row, That knowes her port, and thither sailes by ayme, Ne care, ne feare I, how the wind do blow, Or whether swift I wend, or whether slow: Both slow and swift a like do serue my tourne, Ne swelling _Neptune_, ne loud thundring _Ioue_ Can chaunge my cheare, or make me euer mourne; My litle boat can safely passe this perilous bourne. Whiles thus she talked, and whiles thus she toyd, xi They were farre past the passage, which he spake, And come vnto an Island, waste and voyd, That floted in the midst of that great lake, There her small Gondelay her port did make, And that gay paire issuing on the shore Disburdned her. Their way they forward take Into the land, that lay them faire before, Whose pleasaunce she him shew’d, and plentifull great store. It was a chosen plot of fertile land, xii Emongst wide waues set, like a litle nest, As if it had by Natures cunning hand[620] Bene choisely picked out from all the rest, And laid forth for ensample of the best: No daintie flowre or herbe, that growes on ground, No arboret with painted blossomes drest, And smelling sweet, but there it might be found To bud out faire, and her sweet smels throw[621] all around.