Host. Not far from hence, near to a craggy cliff
At the north end of this distresséd town,
There doth stand a lowly house
Ruggedly builded, and in it a cave,
In which an ugly giant now doth dwell,
Yclepéd Barbaroso: in his hand
He shakes a naked lance of purest steel,
With sleeves turned up, and he before him wears
A motley garment, to preserve his clothes
From blood of those knights which he massacres,