Meane while his Ladie, which this outrage saw, xx Whilest they together for the quarrey stroue, Into the couert did her selfe withdraw, And closely hid her selfe within the groue. My knight hers soone, as seemes, to daunger droue And left sore wounded: but when her he mist, He woxe halfe mad, and in that rage gan roue And range through all the wood, where so he wist She hidden was, and sought her so long, as him list. But when as her he by no meanes could find, xxi After long search and chauff, he turned backe Vnto the place, where me he left behind: There gan he me to curse and ban, for lacke Of that faire bootie, and with bitter wracke To wreake on me the guilt of his owne wrong. Of all which I yet glad to beare the packe, Stroue to appease him, and perswaded long: But still his passion grew more violent and strong. Then as it were t’auenge his wrath on mee, xxii When forward we should fare, he flat refused To take me vp (as this young man did see) Vpon his steed, for no iust cause accused, But forst to trot on foot, and foule misused, Pounching[428] me with the butt end of his speare, In vaine complayning, to be so abused. For he regarded neither playnt nor teare, But more enforst my paine, the more my plaints to heare. So passed we, till this young man vs met, xxiii And being moou’d with pittie of my plight, Spake, as was meet, for ease of my regret: Whereof befell, what now is in your sight. Now sure (then said Sir _Calidore_) and right Me seemes, that him befell by his owne fault: Who euer thinkes through confidence of might, Or through support of count’nance proud and hault To wrong the weaker, oft falles in his owne assault. Then turning backe vnto that gentle boy, xxiv Which had himselfe so stoutly well acquit; Seeing his face so louely sterne and coy, And hearing th’answeres of his pregnant wit, He praysd it much, and much admyred it; That sure he weend him borne of noble blood, With whom those graces did so goodly fit: And when he long had him beholding stood, He burst into these words, as to him seemed good. Faire gentle swayne, and yet as stout as fayre, xxv That in these woods amongst the Nymphs dost wonne, Which daily may to thy sweete lookes repayre, As they are wont vnto _Latonaes_ sonne, After his chace on woodie _Cynthus_ donne: Well may I certes such an one thee read, As by thy worth thou worthily hast wonne, Or surely borne of some Heroicke sead, That in thy face appeares and gratious goodlyhead.