And in this garden found he churlës tway, That sattë by a firë great and red; And to these churlës two he gan to pray To slay him, and to girden 4152 off his head, That to his body, when that he were dead, Were no despitë done for his defame. 4153 Himself he slew, he coud no better rede; 4154 Of which Fortúnë laugh’d and haddë game. 4155

Was never capitain under a king, That regnës more put in subjectioún, Nor stronger was in field of allë thing As in his time, nor greater of renown, Nor more pompous in high presumptioún, Than Holofernes , whom Fortúne aye kiss’d So lik’rously, and led him up and down, Till that his head was off ere that he wist.