University of Virginia Library

As when two wealthy Clyents, that waxe old
In suit, (whose learned councell can vphold
And glaze the cause alike, on either side)
During the time their tearmly golden tide
Shall flow alike, from both, 'tis hard to say
Who prospers best, or who shall get the Day.
But he, whose water first shall cease to flow,
And ebbe so long, till it shall ebbe too low.
His cause, (though richly laden to the brincke,
With right) shall strike vpon the barre and sincke,
And then an easie Councell may vnfold
The doubt; The question's ended, with the gold.
Euen so our Combatants, the whil'st their blood
Was equall spilt; the Cause seem'd equall good,
The Victory equall; equall was their armes;
Their Hopes were equall: equall was their harmes.
But when poore Argalus his wasting blood
Ebb'd in his veines, (although it made a flood
A pretious flood, in the vngratefull field)
His cause, his strength, (but not his heart) must yeeld:
Thus wounded Argalus the more he fail'd,
The more, the proud Amphialus preuail'd:
With that, Amphialus (whose noble strife
Was but to purchase honour, and not life)
Perceiuing what aduantage, in the fight,
He gained, and the valour of the Knight,
Became his suitor, that himselfe would please
To pitty himselfe, and let the Combat cease;
Which noble Argalus (that neuer vs'd
In honour to part stakes) with thankes, refus'd:
(Like to a lucklesse gamester; who, the more
He loses, is lesse willing to giue o're)
And filling vp his empty veines, with spite,
Begins to summe his forces, and vnite
His broken strength, and (like a Lampe that makes
The greatest blaze at going out) he takes
His sword in both his hands; and, at a blow,
Cleft armour, shield, and arme, almost, in two;
But now enrag'd Amphialus forgets
All pitty; and, trusting to his Cards, he sets
That stock of courage, treasur'd in his brest,
Making his whole estate of strength, his Rest;
And vies such blowes, as Arg'lus could not see
Without his losse of life: so thundred he
Vpon his wounded body, that each wound
Seem'd like an open Sluce of blood, that found
No hand to stop it, till the dolefull cry.
Of a most beautious Lady (who well nie
Had run her selfe to death) restrain'd his arme
(Perchance too late) from doing further harme.