XXIX

When he these bitter byting wordes had red,
  The tydings straunge did him abashed make,
  That still he sate long time astonished, 255
  As in great muse, ne word to creature spake. 
  At last his solemne silence thus he brake,
  With doubtfull eyes fast fixed on his guest;
  Redoubted knight, that for mine onely sake
  Thy life and honour late adventurest, 260
Let nought be hid from me, that ought to be exprest.

XXX

What meane these bloody vowes, and idle threats,
  Throwne out from womanish impatient mind? 
  What heavens? what altars? what enraged heates
  Here heaped up with termes of love unkind, 265
  My conscience cleare with guilty bands would bind? 
  High God be witnesse, that I guiltlesse ame. 
  But if your selfe, Sir knight, ye faultie find,
  Or wrapped be in loves of former Dame,
With crime do not it cover, but disclose the same. 270

XXXI

To whom the Redcrosse knight this answere sent
  My Lord, my King, be nought hereat dismayd,
  Till well ye wote by grave intendiment,
  What woman, and wherefere doth me upbrayd
  With breach of love, and loyalty betrayd. 275
  It was in my mishaps, as hitherward
  I lately traveild, that unwares I strayd
  Out of my way, through perils straunge and hard;
That day should faile me, ere I had them all declard.

XXXII

There did I find, or rather I was found 280
  Of this false woman, that Fidessa hight,
  Fidessa hight the falsest Dame on ground,
  Most false Duessa, royall richly dight,
  That easy was to invegle weaker sight: 
  Who by her wicked arts, and wylie skill, 285
  Too false and strong for earthly skill or might,
  Unwares me wrought unto her wicked will,
And to my foe betrayd, when least I feared ill.

XXXIII

Then stepped forth the goodly royall Mayd,
  And on the ground her selfe prostrating low, 290
  With sober countenaunce thus to him sayd;
  O pardon me, my soveraigne Lord, to show
  The secret treasons, which of late I know
  To have bene wroght by that false sorceresse. 
  She onely she it is, that earst did throw 295
  This gentle knight into so great distresse,
That death him did awaite in dayly wretchednesse.

XXXIV

And now it seemes, that she suborned hath
  This craftie messenger with letters vaine,
  To worke new woe and unprovided scath, 300
  By breaking of the band betwixt us twaine;
  Wherein she used hath the practicke paine
  Of this false footman, clokt with simplenesse,
  Whom if ye please for to discover plaine,
  Ye shall him Archimago find, I ghesse, 305
The falsest man alive; who tries shall find no lesse.