One while she blam’d her selfe; another whyle v She him condemn’d, as trustlesse and vntrew: And then, her griefe with errour to beguyle, She fayn’d to count the time againe anew, As if before she had not counted trew. For houres but dayes; for weekes, that passed were, She told but moneths, to make them seeme more few: Yet when she reckned them, still drawing neare, Each hour did seeme a moneth, and euery moneth a yeare. But when as yet she saw him not returne, vi She thought to send some one to seeke him out; But none she found so fit to serue that turne, As her owne selfe, to ease her selfe of dout. Now she deuiz’d amongst the warlike rout Of errant Knights, to seeke her errant Knight; And then againe resolu’d to hunt him out Amongst loose Ladies, lapped in delight: And then both Knights enuide, and Ladies eke did spight. One day, when as she long had sought for ease vii In euery place, and euery place thought best, Yet found no place, that could her liking please, She to a window came, that opened West, Towards which coast her loue his way addrest. There looking forth, shee in her heart did find Many vaine fancies, working her vnrest; And sent her winged thoughts, more swift then wind, To beare vnto her loue the message of her mind. There as she looked long, at last she spide viii One comming towards her with hasty speede: Well weend she then, ere him she plaine descride, That it was one sent from her loue indeede. Who when he nigh approcht, shee mote arede That it was _Talus_, _Artegall_ his groome; Whereat her heart was fild with hope and drede; Ne would she stay, till he in place could come, But ran to meete him forth, to know his tidings somme. Euen in the dore him meeting, she begun; ix And where is he thy Lord, and how far hence? Declare at once; and hath he lost or wun? The yron man, albe he wanted sence And sorrowes feeling, yet with conscience Of his ill newes, did inly chill and quake, And stood still mute, as one in great suspence, As if that by his silence he would make Her rather reade his meaning, then him selfe it spake. Till she againe thus sayd; _Talus_ be bold, x And tell what euer it be, good or bad, That from thy tongue thy hearts intent doth hold. To whom he thus at length. The tidings sad, That I would hide, will needs, I see, be rad. My Lord, your loue, by hard mishap doth lie In wretched bondage, wofully bestad. Ay me (quoth she) what wicked destinie? And is he vanquisht by his tyrant enemy?