She trauelling with _Guyon_[884] by the way, iv Of sundry things faire purpose gan to find, T’abridg their iourney long, and lingring day; Mongst which it fell into that Faeries mind, To aske this Briton Mayd, what vncouth wind, Brought her into those parts, and what inquest Made her dissemble her disguised kind: Faire Lady she him seemd, like Lady drest, But fairest knight aliue, when armed was her brest. Thereat she sighing softly, had no powre v To speake a while, ne ready answere make, But with hart-thrilling throbs and bitter stowre, As if she had a feuer fit, did quake, And euery daintie limbe with horrour shake; And euer and anone the rosy red, Flasht through her face, as it had been a flake Of lightning, through bright heauen fulmined; At last the passion past she thus him answered. Faire Sir, I let you weete, that from the howre vi I taken was from nourses tender pap, I haue beene trained vp in warlike stowre, To tossen speare and shield, and to affrap The warlike ryder to his most mishap; Sithence I loathed haue my life to lead, As Ladies wont, in pleasures wanton lap, To finger the fine needle and nyce thread; Me leuer were with point of foemans speare be dead. All my delight on deedes of armes is set, vii To hunt out perils and aduentures hard, By sea, by land, where so they may be met, Onely for honour and for high regard, Without respect of richesse or reward. For such intent into these parts I came, Withouten compasse, or withouten card, Far fro[885] my natiue soyle, that is by name The greater _Britaine_, here to seeke for prayse and fame. Fame blazed hath, that here in Faery lond viii Do many famous Knightes and Ladies wonne, And many straunge aduentures to be fond, Of which great worth and worship may be wonne; Which I to proue,[886] this voyage haue begonne. But mote I weet of you, right curteous knight, Tydings of one, that hath vnto me donne Late foule dishonour and reprochfull spight, The which I seeke to wreake, and _Arthegall_ he hight. The word gone out, she backe againe would call, ix As her repenting so to haue missayd, But that he it vp-taking ere the fall, Her shortly answered; Faire martiall Mayd Certes ye misauised beene, t’vpbrayd A gentle knight with so vnknightly blame: For weet ye well of all, that euer playd At tilt or tourney, or like warlike game, The noble _Arthegall_ hath euer borne the name.