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O but I feare the fickle freakes (quoth shee) Of fortune false, and oddes of armes° in field. Why Dame (quoth he) what oddes can ever bee, Where both do fight alike, to win or yield? Yea but (quoth she) he beares a charmed shield, And eke enchaunted armes, that none can perce, Ne none can wound the man that does them wield. Charmd or enchaunted (answerd he then ferce) I no whit reck, ne you the like need to reherce.