Their Seconds minister an oath,
Which was indifferent to them both,
That on their Knightly faith, and troth,
No magicke them supplyed;
And sought them that they had no charmes,
Wherewith to worke each others harmes,
But came with simple open armes,
To haue their causes tryed.
Together furiously they ran,
610That to the ground came horse and man,
The blood out of their Helmets span,
So sharpe were their incounters;
And though they to the earth were throwne,
Yet quickly they regain'd their owne,
Such nimblenesse was neuer showne,
They were two Gallant Mounters.
When in a second Course againe,
They forward came with might and mayne,
Yet which had better of the twaine,
620The Seconds could not iudge yet;
Their shields were into pieces cleft,
Their helmets from their heads were reft,
And to defend them nothing left,
These Champions would not budge yet.
Away from them their Staues they threw,
Their cruell Swords they quickly drew,
And freshly they the fight renew;
They euery stroke redoubled:
Which made Proserpina take heed,
630And make to them the greater speed,
For fear lest they too much should bleed,
Which wondrously her troubled.
When to th' infernall Stix she goes,
She takes the Fogs from thence that rose,
And in a Bagge doth them enclose;
When well she had them blended:
She hyes her then to Lethe spring,
A Bottell and thereof doth bring,
Wherewith she meant to worke the thing,
640Which onely she intended.
Now Proserpine with Mab is gone
Vnto the place where Oberon
And proud Pigwiggen, one to one,
Both to be slaine were likely:
And there themselues they closely hide,
Because they would not be espide;
For Proserpine meant to decide
The matter very quickly.
And suddainly vntyes the Poke,
650Which out of it sent such a smoke,
As ready was them all to choke,
So greeuous was the pother;
So that the Knights each other lost,
And stood as still as any post,
Tom Thum, nor Tomalin could boast
Themselues of any other.
But when the mist gan somewhat cease,
Proserpina commanded peace:
And that a while they should release,
660Each other of their perill:
Which here (quoth she) I doe proclaime
To all in dreadfull Plutos name,
That as yee will eschewe his blame,
You let me heare the quarrell,
But here your selues you must engage,
Somewhat to coole your spleenish rage:
Your greeuous thirst and to asswage,
That first you drinke this liquor:
Which shall your vnderstanding cleare,
670As plainely shall to you appeare;
Those things from me that you shall heare,
Conceiuing much the quicker.
This Lethe water you must knowe,
The memory destroyeth so,
That of our weale, or of our woe,
It all remembrance blotted;
Of it nor can you euer thinke:
For they no sooner tooke this drinke,
But nought into their braines could sinke,
680Of what had them besotted.