Wherewith he all enrag’d, these bitter speaches said.
O foolish faeries sonne, what furie mad xlvii
Hath thee incenst, to hast thy dolefull fate[228]?
Were it not better, I that Lady had,
Then that thou hadst repented it too late?
Most sencelesse man he, that himselfe doth hate,
To loue another. Lo then for thine ayd
Here take thy louers token on thy pate.
So they to[229] fight; the whiles the royall Mayd
Fled farre away, of that proud Paynim sore afrayd.