But he them all from him full lightly swept,
As doth a Steare, in heat of sommers day,[407]
With his long taile the bryzes brush away.
Thence passing forth, into the hall he came,
Where of the Lady selfe in sad dismay
He was ymett, who with vncomely shame
Gan him salute, and fowle vpbrayd with faulty blame.
False traytor Knight, (sayd she) no Knight at all, xxv
But scorne of armes that hast with guilty hand
Murdred my men, and slaine my Seneschall;