XXIII

The Redcrosse knight toward him crossed fast,
  To weet, what mister wight was so dismayd:  200
  There him he finds all sencelesse and aghast,
  That of him selfe he seemd to be afrayd;
  Whom hardly he from flying forward stayd,
  Till he these wordes to him deliver might;
  Sir knight, aread who hath ye thus arayd, 205
  And eke from whom make ye this hasty flight: 
For never knight I saw in such misseeming plight.

XXIV

He answerd nought at all, but adding new
  Feare to his first amazment, staring wide
  With stony eyes, and hartlesse hollow hew, 210
  Astonisht stood, as one that had aspide
  Infernall furies, with their chaines untide. 
  Him yet againe, and yet againe bespake
  The gentle knight; who nought to him replide,
  But trembling every joint did inly quake, 215
And foltring tongue at last these words seemd forth to shake.

XXV

For Gods deare love, Sir knight, do me not stay;
  For loe he comes, he comes fast after mee. 
  Eft looking back would faine have runne away;
  But he him forst to stay, and tellen free 220
  The secret cause of his perplexitie: 
  Yet nathemore by his bold hartie speach
  Could his bloud-frosen hart emboldned bee,
  But through his boldnesse rather feare did reach,
Yet forst, at last he made through silence suddein breach. 225

XXVI

And am I now in safetie sure (quoth he)
  From him, that would have forced me to dye? 
  And is the point of death now turnd fro mee,
  That I may tell this haplesse history? 
  Feare nought:  (quoth he) no daunger now is nye. 230
  Then shall I you recount a ruefull cace,
  (Said he) the which with this unlucky eye
  I late beheld, and had not greater grace[*]
Me reft from it, had bene partaker of the place.

XXVII

I lately chaunst (would I had never chaunst) 235
  With a faire knight to keepen companee,
  Sir Terwin hight, that well himselfe advaunst
  In all affaires, and was both bold and free,
  But not so happy as mote happy bee: 
  He lov’d, as was his lot, a Ladie gent, 240
  That him againe lov’d in the least degree: 
  For she was proud, and of too high intent,
And joyd to see her lover languish and lament.

XXVIII

From whom returning sad and comfortlesse,
  As on the way together we did fare, 245
  We met that villen (God from him me blesse)
  That cursed wight, from whom I scapt whyleare,
  A man of hell, that cals himselfe Despaire: 
  Who first us greets, and after faire areedes[*]
  Of tydings strange, and of adventures rare:  250
  So creeping close, as Snake in hidden weedes,
Inquireth of our states, and of our knightly deedes.