Well might he perceive the hanging of her hair in fairest quantity, in locks some curled, and some as it were forgotten, with such a careless care, and an art so hiding art, that she seemed she would lay them for a pattern, whether nature simply, or nature helped by cunning, be the more excellent: the rest whereof was drawn into a coronet of gold richly set with pearl, and so joined all over with gold wires and covered with feathers of divers colours that it was not unlike to an helmet, such a glittering show it bare, and so bravely it was held up from the head. Upon her body she wore a doublet of sky-coloured satin, covered with plates of gold, and, as it were, nailed with precious stones, that in it she might seem armed; the nether part of her garment was full of stuff, and cut after such a fashion that though the length of it reached to the ankles, yet in her going one might sometimes discern the small of her leg, which with the foot was dressed in a short pair of crimson velvet buskins, in some places open, as the ancient manner was, to show the fairness of the skin. Over all this she wore a certain mantle, made in such manner, that coming under her right arm and covering most of that side, it had no fastening on the left side, but only upon the top of her shoulder, where the two ends met, and were closed together with a very rich jewel: the device whereof, as he after saw, was this: a Hercules made in little form, but set with a distaff in his hand, as he once was by Omphale’s commandment, with a word in Greek, but thus to be interpreted, “Never more valiant.” On the same side on her thigh she wore a sword, which as it witnessed her to be an Amazon, {58} or one following that profession, so it seemed but a needless weapon, since her other forces were without withstanding. But this lady walked out-right till he might see her enter into a fine close arbour: it was of trees, whose branches so lovingly interlaced one the other that it could resist the strongest violence of eye-sight, but she went into it by a door she opened, which moved him, as warily as he could, to follow her; and by and by he might hear her sing this song, with a voice no less beautiful to his ears than her goodliness was full of harmony to his eyes: Transform’d in shew, but more transform’d in mind, I cease to strive with double conquest foil’d: For, woe is me, my powers all I find With outward force, and inward treason, spoil’d. For from without came to mine eyes the blow, Whereto my inward thoughts did faintly yield: Both these conspir’d poor reason’s overthrow; False in myself, thus have I lost the field. Thus are my eyes still captive to one sight, Thus all my thoughts are slaves to one thought still: Thus reason to his servants yields his right, Thus is my power transformed to your will: What marvel then, I take a woman’s hue, Since what I see, think, know, is all but you?