And couching close his speare and all his powre,
As bent to some malicious enterprise,
He bad him stand, t’abide the bitter stoure
Of his sore vengeaunce, or to make auoure
Of the lewd words and deedes, which he had done:
With that ran at him, as he would deuoure
His life attonce; who nought could do, but shun
The perill of his pride, or else be ouerrun.
Yet he him still pursew’d from place to place, xlix
With full intent him cruelly to kill,