O foolish faeries son, what fury mad
Hath thee incenst, to hast thy doefull fate?
Were it not better I that Lady had,
Then that thou hadst repented it too late?
Most senseless man he, that himselfe doth hate
To love another. Lo then for thine ayd
Here take thy lovers token on thy pate.[°]
So they two fight; the whiles the royall Mayd
Fledd farre away, of that proud Paynim sore afrayd.