The dastard, that did heare him selfe defyde, xxxvi Seem’d not to weigh his threatfull words at all, But laught them out, as if his greater pryde[452] Did scorne the challenge of so base a thrall: Or had no courage, or else had no gall. So much the more was _Calepine_ offended, That him to no reuenge he forth could call, But both his challenge and him selfe contemned, Ne cared as a coward so to be condemned. But he nought weighing what he sayd or did, xxxvii Turned his steede about another way, And with his Lady to the Castle rid, Where was his won; ne did the other stay, But after went directly as he may, For his sicke charge some harbour there to seeke, Where he arriuing with the fall of day, Drew to the gate, and there with prayers meeke, And myld entreaty lodging did for her[453] beseeke. But the rude Porter that no manners had, xxxviii Did shut the gate against him in his face, And entraunce boldly vnto him forbad. Nathelesse the Knight now in so needy case, Gan him entreat euen with submission base, And humbly praid to let them in that night: Who to him aunswer’d, that there was no place Of lodging fit for any errant Knight, Vnlesse that with his Lord he formerly did fight. Full loth am I (quoth he) as now at earst, xxxix When day is spent, and rest vs needeth most, And that this Lady, both whose sides are pearst With wounds, is ready to forgo the ghost: Ne would I gladly combate with mine host, That should to me such curtesie afford, Vnlesse that I were thereunto enforst. But yet aread to me, how hight thy Lord, That doth thus strongly ward the Castle of the ford. His name (quoth he) if that thou list to learne, xl Is hight Sir _Turpine_, one of mickle might, And manhood rare, but terrible and stearne In all assaies to euery errant Knight, Because of one, that wrought him fowle despight. Ill seemes (sayd he) if he so valiaunt be, That he should be so Sterne to stranger wight: For seldome yet did liuing creature see, That curtesie and manhood euer disagree. But go thy waies to him, and fro me say, xli That here is at his gate an errant Knight, That house-rome craues, yet would be loth t’assay The proofe of battell, now in doubtfull night, Or curtesie with rudenesse to requite: Yet if he needes will fight, craue leaue till morne, And tell withall,[454] the lamentable plight, In which this Lady languisheth forlorne, That pitty craues, as he of woman was yborne.