_The Hermite heales both Squire and dame Of their sore maladies: He Turpine doth defeate, and shame For his late villanies._ ] No wound, which warlike hand of enemy i Inflicts with dint of sword, so sore doth light, As doth the poysnous sting, which infamy Infixeth in the name of noble wight: For by no art, nor any leaches might It euer can recured be againe; Ne all the skill, which that immortall spright Of _Podalyrius_ did in it retaine, Can remedy such hurts; such hurts are hellish paine. Such were the wounds, the which that _Blatant Beast_ ii Made in the bodies of that Squire and Dame; And being such, were now much more increast, For want of taking heede vnto the same, That now corrupt and curelesse they became. Howbe that carefull Hermite did his best, With many kindes of medicines meete, to tame The poysnous humour, which did most infest Their ranckling wounds, and euery day them duely drest. For he right well in Leaches craft was seene, iii And through the long experience of his dayes, Which had in many fortunes tossed beene, And past through many perillous assayes, He knew the diuerse went of mortall wayes, And in the mindes of men had great insight; Which with sage counsell, when they went astray, He could enforme, and them reduce aright, And al the passions heale, which wound the weaker spright. For whylome he had bene a doughty Knight, iv As any one, that liued in his daies, And proued oft in many perillous fight, Of which he grace and glory wonne alwaies, And in all battels bore away the baies. But being now attacht with timely age, And weary of this worlds vnquiet waies, He tooke him selfe vnto this Hermitage, In which he liu’d alone, like carelesse bird in cage. One day, as he was searching of their wounds, v He found that they had festred priuily, And ranckling inward with vnruly stounds, The inner parts now gan to putrify, That quite they seem’d past helpe of surgery, And rather needed to be disciplinde With holesome reede of sad sobriety, To rule the stubborne rage of passion blinde: Giue salues to euery sore, but counsell to the minde. So taking them apart into his cell, vi He to that point fit speaches gan to frame, As he the art of words knew wondrous well, And eke could doe, as well as say the same, And thus he to them sayd; Faire[489] daughter Dame, And you faire sonne, which here thus long now lie In piteous languor, since ye hither came, In vaine of me ye hope for remedie, And I likewise in vaine doe salues to you applie.