And after him she rode with so much speede As her slow beast could make; but all in vaine: 65 For him so far had borne his light-foot steede, Pricked with wrath and fiery fierce disdaine, That him to follow was but fruitlesse paine; Yet she her weary limbes would never rest, But every hill and dale, each wood and plaine, 70 Did search, sore grieved in her gentle brest, He so ungently left her, whom she loved best.
But subtill Archimago, when his guests He saw divided into double parts, And Una wandring in woods and forrests, 75 Th' end of his drift, he praisd his divelish arts, That had such might over true meaning harts: Yet rests not so, but other meanes doth make, How he may worke unto her further smarts: For her he hated as the hissing snake, 80 And in her many troubles did most pleasure take.
He then devisde himselfe how to disguise; For by his mightie science he could take As many formes and shapes in seeming wise, As ever Proteus° to himselfe could make: 85 Sometime a fowle, sometime a fish in lake, Now like a foxe, now like a dragon fell, That of himselfe he ofte for feare would quake, And oft would flie away. O who can tell The hidden power of herbes° and might of Magicke spell? 90
But now seemde best the person to put on Of that good knight, his late beguiled guest: In mighty armes he was yclad anon: And silver shield, upon his coward brest A bloudy crosse, and on his craven crest 95 A bounch of haires discolourd diversly: Full jolly knight he seemde, and well addrest, And when he sate upon his courser free, Saint George himself ye would have deemed him to be.
But he the knight, whose semblaunt he did beare, 100 The true Saint George, was wandred far away, Still flying from his thoughts and gealous feare; Will was his guide, and griefe led him astray. At last him chaunst to meete upon the way A faithless Sarazin° all arm'd to point, 105 In whose great shield was writ with letters gay _Sans foy:_ full large of limbe and every joint He was, and cared not for God or man a point.
He had a faire companion° of his way, A goodly Lady clad in scarlot red, 110 Purfled with gold and pearle of rich assay, And like a Persian mitre on her hed She wore, with crowns and owches garnished, The which her lavish lovers to her gave; Her wanton palfrey all was overspred 115 With tinsell trappings, woven like a wave, Whose bridle rung with golden bels and bosses brave.