There mote he likewise see a ribbald train
Of dancers, broid'rers, slaves of luxury,
Who cast o'er all those lords and ladies vain
A veil of semblaunce fair, and richest dye,
That none their inward baseness mote descry.
But nought was hidden from that mirrour bright.
Which when false ARCHIMAGO 'gan espy,
He feared for himself, and warn'd the knight
From so detested place to maken speedy flight.