Xxv

Whose grievous fall, when false Duessa spide, Her golden cup she cast unto the ground, And crowned mitre rudely threw aside; Such percing griefe her stubborne hart did wound, That she could not endure that dolefull stound, But leaving all behind her, fled away; The light-foot Squire her quickly turnd around, And by hard meanes enforcing her to stay, So brought unto his Lord, as his deserved pray.