Xxxiii

Then asked he, which way he in might pas: He could not tell, againe he answered. Thereat the curteous knight displeased was, And said, Old sire, it seemes thou hast not red How ill it sits with that same silver hed, In vaine to mocke, or mockt in vaine to bee: But if thou be, as thou art pourtrahed With natures pen,° in ages grave degree, Aread in graver wise, what I demaund of thee.