Xxxiv

The better part now of the lingring day, They traveild had, whenas they farre espide A weary wight forwandring by the way, And towards him they gan in haste to ride, To weete of newes, that did abroad betide, Or tydings of her knight of the Redcrosse. But he them spying, gan to turne aside, For feare as seemd, or for some feigned losse; More greedy they of newes, fast towards him do crosse.