Le Morte Darthur / by Syr Thomas Malory ; the original edition of William Caxton now reprinted and edited with an introduction and glossary by H. Oskar Sommer ; with an essay on Malory's prose style by Andrew Lang

¶ Capitulum x

THenne dressid he hym vnto the knyghte / the whiche had the gentylwoman / and thenne he cryed sir knyghte lete your hand of that mayden or ye be but dede / & thenne he sette doune the mayden / and was armed at alle pyeces sauf he lacked his spere / Thenne he dressid his sheld / and drewe oute his swerd / and Bors smote hym soo hard that it went thurgh his shelde and haberion on the lyfte sholder / and thorowe grete strengthe he bete hym doune to the erthe / and at the pullynge oute of Bors spere there he swouned /

¶ Thenne came Bors to the mayde / and sayd how semeth it yow of this knyghte / ye be delyuerd at this tyme /

¶ Now sir said she I praye yow lede me there as this knyghte hadde me soo shall I do gladly / & took the hors of the wounded knyȝght and sette the gentylwoman vpon hym / and soo broughte her as she desyred / Sir knyghte sayd she / ye haue better sped than ye wend / for and I had lost my maydenhede / fyue honderd men shold haue dyed for hit / what knyghte was he that had yow in the forest / by my feithe sayd she / he is my cosyn / So wote I neuer with what engyn the fende enchauffed hym / for yesterday he took me from my fader pryuely / for I nor none of my faders men mystrusted hym not / And yf he hadde hadde my maydenhede / he shold haue dyed for the synne & his body shamed & dishonoured for euer / Thus as she stood talkynge with hym there came twelue knyghtes sekyng after her / and anone she

[leaf 339v] told hem alle how Bors had delyuerd her / thenne they maad grete Ioye and besoughte hym to come to her fader a grete lord and he shold be ryght welcome / Truly sayd Bors that may not be at this tyme / for I haue a grete aduentur to doo in this countrey / Soo he commaunded hem vnto god and departed / Thenne syr Bors rode after Lyonel his broder by the trace of their horses / thus he rode sekyng a grete whyle / Thenne he ouertoke a man clothed in a Relygyous clothynge / and rode on a stronge black hors blacker than a bery / and sayd syre knyȝte what seke yow / Syre sayd he I seke my broder that I sawe within a whyle beten with two knyghtes / A Bors discomforte yow not / ne falle in to no wanhope / for I shall telle you tydynges suche as they ben / for truly he is dede / Thenne shewed he hym a newe slayne body lyenge in a busshe / and it semed hym wel that it was the body of Lyonel / and thenne he made suche a sorowe that he felle to the erthe all in a swoune / and lay a grete whyle there / And whanne he came to hym selfe / he said Faire brother syth the company of yow and me is departed shall I neuer haue Ioye in my herte / and now he whiche I haue take vnto my maister / he be my help / And whanne he had sayd thus / he toke his body lyghtely in his armes / and putte hit vpon the arson of his sadel / And thenne he sayd to the man canst thow telle me vnto somme chappel where that I may burye this body / Come on said he / here is one fast by / and soo longe they rood tyl they sawe a fayre Toure / and afore it there semed an old feble chappel / And thenne they alyght bothe and put hym in to a Tombe of marbel