Cant. I.
the Faery Queene.
17
In this great passion of vnwonted lust,Or wonted feare of doing ought amis,He starteth vp, as seeming to mistrust,Some secret ill, or hidden foe of his:Lo there before his face his Ladie is,Vnder blacke stole hyding her bayted hooke,And as halfe blushing offred him to kis,With gentle blandishment and louely looke,Most like that virgin true, which for her knight him took
All cleane dismayd to see so vncouth sight,And halfe enraged at her shamelesse guise,He thought haue slaine her in his fierce despight,But hastie heat tempring with sufferance wise,He stayde his hand, and gan himselfe aduiseTo proue his sense, and tempt her faigned truth.Wringing her hands in wemens pitteous wise,Tho can she weepe, to stirre vp gentle ruth,Both for her noble blood, and for her tender youth.
And sayd, Ah Sir, my liege Lord and my loue,Shall I accuse the hidden cruell fate,And mightie causes wrought in heauen aboue,Or the blind God, that doth me thus amate,For hoped loue to winne me certaine hate?Yet thus perforce he bids me do, or die.Die is my dew: yet rew my wretched stateYou, whom my hard auenging destinieHath made iudge of my life or death indifferently.
Your owne deare sake forst me at first to leaueMy Fathers kingdom, There she stopt with teares;Her swollen hart her speech seemd to bereaue,And then againe begonne, My weaker yeares
Captiu'd
