Wilt giue thy beard, though it but little bee?
Yet shall it not her lockes for raunsome fro me free.
With that he fiercely at him flew, and layd xx
On hideous strokes with most importune might,
That oft he made him stagger as vnstayd,
And oft recuile to shunne his sharpe despight.
But Calidore, that was well skild in fight,
Him long forbore, and still his spirite spar’d,
Lying in waite, how him he damadge might.
But when he felt him shrinke, and come to ward,