Till on a day, as he disposed was xi
To walke the woods with that his Idole faire,
Her to disport, and idle time to pas,
In th’open freshnesse of the gentle aire,
A knight that way there chaunced to repaire;
Yet knight he[1051] was not, but a boastfull swaine,
That deedes of armes had euer in despaire,
Proud Braggadocchio, that in vaunting vaine
His glory did repose, and credit did maintaine.
He seeing with that Chorle so faire a wight, xii