Loke that your herte, your worde, and countenaunce, Agre all in one without varyaunce. Yf she for pyte do release your payne, Consyder it and love her best agayne. Be true and secrete, and make none advaunte Whan you of love have a perfyte graunte. And if ye wyll come unto your wyll, Both here and se and than holde you styll. Drede you nothing, but take a good herte, For right sone after you from hens departe Right high adventures unto you shall fall. In tyme of fight unto your mind than call, If you prevayle you shall attayne the fame Of hye honour to certify the same. And therwith I lyght upon my stede. Madame, I sayd, I pray God do you mede! Farewell! she sayd, for you must now hens, Adue, quod I, with all my diligens. CAP. XXXIII. HOW GRAUNDE AMOURE DYSCOMFYTED THE GIAUNTE WITH THRE HEDES, AND WAS RECEIVED OF THRE FAYRE LADIES. Whan golden Phebus in the Capricorne Gan to ascend fast unto Aquary, And Janus Bifrus the crowne had wone With his frosty berd in January; Whan clere Diana joyned with Mercury, The cristall ayre and assured firmanent Were all depured without encumbrement. Forth than I rode, at myne owne adventure, Over the mountaynes and the craggy roche; To beholde the countrees I had great pleasure, Where corall growed by right hye flackes; And the popyngayes in the tre toppes; Than as I rode I sawe me beforne Besyde a welle hange both a shelde and horne. Whan I came there, adowne my stede I lyght, And the fayre bugle I right well behelde; Blasynge the armes as well as I myghte That was so graven upon the goodly shelde; Fyrst all of sylver dyd appere the felde, With a rampynge lyon of fyne golde so pure, And under the shelde there was this scrypture: Yf ony knyght that is adventurous Of his great pride dare the bugle blowe, There is a gyaunte bothe fyerce and rygorous That wyth his might shall hym soune overthrowe. This is the waye as ye shall nowe knowe To La Belle Pucell, but withouten fayle The sturdy gyaunte wyll geve you batayle. Whan I the scripture ones or twyes hadde redde, And knewe therof all the hole effecte, I blewe the horne without any drede, And toke good herte all fare to abjecte, Makynge me redy, for I dyde suspecte That the great gyaunte unto me wolde hast Whan he had herde me blowe so loude a blast. I alyght anone upon my gentyll stede, Aboute the well then I rode to and fro, And thought ryght well upon the joyfull mede That I shoulde have after my payne and wo; And on my lady I dyd thynke also: Tyll at the last my varlet dyd me tell, Take hede, quod he, here is a fende of hell!