My greyhoundes leped and my stede did sterte, My spere I toke and did loke aboute; Wyth hardy courage I did arme me herte; At last I saw a sturdy giaunt stoute, Twelve fote of length to fere a great route, Thre hedes he had, and he armed was Both hedes and body all about with bras. Upon his first head in his helmet crest There stode a fane of the silke so fyne, Where was wrytten, with letters of the best, My name is Falshed, I shall cause enclyne My neyghbours goods for to make them myne: Alway I get theyr lande or substaunce, With subtyll fraude, deceyte, or variaunce. And whan a knyght with noble chyvalry Of La Bell Pucell should attayne the grace, Wyth my great falshed I werke so subtylly That in her herte he hath no place: Thus of his purpose I do let the cace. This is I my power and my condicion, Love to remove by great illusion. And of the second head, in a silken tassell, There I saw wrytten: Ymaginacion; My crafty wytte is withouten fayle Love for to bring in perturbacion; Where La Bell Pucell wold have affeccion To Graund Amour, I shall a tale devyse To make her hate him and him to dispyse. By my false wytte so muche imaginative The trouth full ofte I bring in disease; Whereas was peace I cause to be stryfe; I wyll suffer no man for to lyve in ease; For if by fortune he wyll be displease, I shall of him ymagin such a tale, That out of joy it shall turne into bale. And on the thirde hede, in a stremer grene, There was written: My name is Perjury; In many a towne I am knowen as I wene, Where as I lyst I do great injury, And do forswere my selfe full wrongfully: Of all thinges I do hate conscience. But I love lucre with all diligence. Betwene two lovers I do make debate; I will so swere, that they thinke I am true; For ever falshed with his owne estate To a lady cometh, and sayeth to eschew An inconvenience that ye do not rue; Your love is nought ymaginacion knoweth; I swere in lykewise and anon she troweth. That we have sayd is of very trouth, Her love she casteth right clene out of minde; That with her love she is wonderly wroth; With fayned kindnes we do her so blynde, Than to her lover she is full unkinde. Thus our thre powers were joyned in one, In this mighty giaunt many dayes agone. And whan that I had sene every thinge, My spere I charged that was very great, And to this giaunt so fyersly coming I toke my course, that I with him mette, Broking my spere upon his first helmet. And right anone adowne my stede I lyght, Drawing my swerde that was fayre and bryght, Iclyped Clara Prudence, that was fayre and sure. At the giaunt I stroke with all my vyolence, But he my strokes might right well endure He was so great and huge of puysaunce; His glave he did agaynst me advaunce, Whiche was foure fote and more of cuttyng; And as he was his stroke dischargyng,