Therewith in haste his helmet gan vnlace, xxxvii Till _Vna_ cride, O hold that heauie hand, Deare Sir, what euer that thou be in place: Enough is, that thy foe doth vanquisht stand Now at thy mercy: Mercie not withstand: For he is one the truest knight aliue, Though conquered now he lie on lowly land, And whilest him fortune fauourd, faire did thriue In bloudie field: therefore of life him not depriue. Her piteous words might not abate his rage, xxxviii But rudely rending vp his helmet, would Haue slaine him straight[130]: but when he sees his age, And hoarie head of _Archimago_ old, His hastie hand he doth amazed hold, And halfe ashamed, wondred at the sight: For the[131] old man well knew he, though vntold, In charmes and magicke to haue wondrous might, Ne euer wont in field, ne in round lists to fight. And said, Why _Archimago_, lucklesse syre, xxxix What doe I see? what hard mishap is this, That hath thee hither brought to taste mine yre? Or thine the fault, or mine the error is, In stead of foe to wound my friend amis? He answered nought, but in a traunce still lay, And on those guilefull dazed eyes of his The cloud of death did sit. Which doen away, He left him lying so, ne would no lenger stay. But to the virgin comes, who all this while xl Amased stands, her selfe so mockt to see By him, who has the guerdon of his guile, For so misfeigning her true knight to bee: Yet is she now in more perplexitie, Left in the hand of that same Paynim bold, From whom her booteth not at all to flie; Who by her cleanly garment catching hold, Her from her Palfrey pluckt, her visage to behold. But her fierce seruant full of kingly awe xli And high disdaine, whenas his soueraine Dame So rudely handled by her foe he sawe, With gaping iawes full greedy at him came, And ramping on his shield, did weene the same Haue reft away with his sharpe rending clawes: But he was stout, and lust did now inflame His corage more, that from his griping pawes He hath his shield redeem’d, and foorth[132] his swerd he drawes. O then too weake and feeble was the forse xlii Of saluage beast, his puissance to withstand: For he was strong, and of so mightie corse, As euer wielded speare in warlike hand, And feates of armes did wisely vnderstand. Eftsoones he perced through his chaufed chest With thrilling point of deadly yron brand, And launcht his Lordly hart: with death opprest He roar’d aloud, whiles life forsooke his stubborne brest.