Xxxviii

Her piteous words might not abate his rage, But rudely rending up his helmet, would Have slaine him straight: but when he sees his age, And hoarie head of Archimago old, His hasty hand he doth amazed hold, And halfe ashamed, wondred at the sight: For that old man well knew he, though untold, In charmes and magicke to have wondrous might, Ne ever wont in field,° ne in round lists to fight;