Shortly vpon that shore there heaped was, xxiii Exceeding riches and all pretious things, The spoyle of all the world, that it did pas The wealth of th’East, and pompe of _Persian_ kings; Gold, amber, yuorie, perles, owches, rings, And all that else was pretious and deare, The sea vnto him voluntary brings, That shortly he a great Lord did appeare, As was in all the lond of Faery, or elsewheare. Thereto he was a doughtie dreaded knight, xxiv Tryde often to the scath[944] of many deare, That none in equall armes him matchen might, The which his mother seeing, gan to feare Least his too haughtie hardines might reare Some hard mishap, in hazard of his life: For thy she oft him counseld to forbeare The bloudie battell, and to stirre vp strife, But after all his warre, to rest his wearie knife. And for his more assurance, she inquir’d xxv One day of _Proteus_ by his mightie spell, (For _Proteus_ was with prophecie inspir’d) Her deare sonnes destinie to her to tell, And the sad end of her sweet _Marinell_. Who through foresight of his eternall skill, Bad her from womankind to keepe him well: For of a woman he should haue much ill, A virgin strange and stout him should dismay, or kill. For thy she gaue him warning euery day, xxvi The loue of women not to entertaine; A lesson too too hard for liuing clay, From loue in course of nature to refraine: Yet he his mothers lore did well retaine, And euer from faire Ladies loue did fly; Yet many Ladies faire did oft complaine, That they for loue of him would algates dy: Dy, who so list for him, he was loues enimy. But ah, who can deceiue his destiny, xxvii Or weene by warning to auoyd his fate? That when he sleepes in most security, And safest seemes, him soonest doth amate, And findeth dew effect or soone or late. So feeble is the powre of fleshly[945] arme. His mother bad him womens loue to hate, For she of womans force did feare no harme; So weening to haue arm’d him, she did quite disarme. This was that woman, this that deadly wound, xxviii That _Proteus_ prophecide should him dismay, The which his mother vainely did expound, To be hart-wounding loue, which should assay To bring her sonne vnto his last decay. So tickle be the termes of mortall state, And full of subtile sophismes, which do play With double senses, and with false debate, T’approue the vnknowen purpose of eternall fate.