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 xvj

IN suche maner they kepte launcelot four and twenty dayes and also many nyghtes that euer he laye stylle as a dede man / and at the xxv daye byfelle hym after myddaye that he opened his eyen / and whan he sawe folke he made grete sorowe and sayd why haue ye awaked me / for I was more at ease than I am now / O Ihesu Cryst who myghte be soo blessid that myght see openly thy grete merueyls of secretenes there where no synnar may be / what haue ye sene sayd they aboute hym / I haue sene said he so grete merueyls that no tong may telle / and more than ony herte can thynke / & had not my sone ben here afore me I had sene moche more / Thenne they told hym how he had layne there four and twenty dayes and nyghtes / thenne hym thoughte hit was punysshement for the four and twenty yeres that he had ben a synner wherfore our lord put hym in penaunce four and twenty dayes and nyghtes Thenne loked syr launcelot afore hym / & sawe the hayre whiche he had borne nyghe a yere / for that he forthoughte hym ryȝte moche that he had broken his promyse vnto the heremyte whiche he had auowed to doo /

¶ Thenne they asked how hit stood with hym / for sothe sayd he I am hole of body thanked be our

[leaf 357r] lord / therfore syrs for goddes loue telle me where that I am / thenne sayd they alle that he was in the Castel of Carbonek / there with came a gentylwoman / and brought hym a sherte of smal lynen clothe / but he chaunged not there / but toke the hayre to hym ageyne / Sir sayd they the quest of the Sancgreal is encheued now ryght in yow / that neuer shalle ye see of the Sancgreal nomore than ye haue sene / Now I thanke god said Launcelot of his grete mercy of that I haue sene / for it suffyseth me / for as I suppose no man in this world hath lyued better than I haue done to enchere that I haue done / And ther with he took the hayre and clothed hym in hit / and aboue that he put a lynen sherte / & after a Robe of Scarlet fresshe & newe / And whanne he was soo arayed / they merueylled alle / for they knewe hym that he was launcelot the good knyghte And thenne they sayd alle O my lord sir launcelot be that ye and he sayd Truly I am he / Thenne came word to kyng pelles that the knyght that had layne soo longe dede was sir launcelot / thenne was the kynge ryght glad / and wente to see hym / And whanne launcelot sawe hym come / he dressid hym ageynste hym / and there made the kyng grete Ioye of hym / and there the kynge told hym tydynges / that his fayre doughter was dede / Thenne launcelot was ryght heuy of hit / and sayd / syre me forthynketh of the dethe of your doughter / for she was a ful fayre lady / fresshe / and yonge / and wel I wote she bere the best knyghte that is now on erthe or that euer was sith god was borne / So the kynge held hym there four dayes / and on the morowe he took his leue at kynge Pelles and at al the felauship and thanked them of the grete labour / Ryghte soo as they sat at her dyner in the chyef sale / thenne was so befalle that the Sancgreal had fulfylled the tables with al maner of metes that ony herte myghte thynke /

¶ Soo as they sate / they sawe alle the dores and the wyndowes of the place were shitte withoute mannys hand / wherof they were al abasshed / and none wyste what to doo

¶ And thenne it happed sodenly a knyghte cam to the chyefe dore and knocked / and cryed / vndo the dore / but they wold not / and euer he cryed vndoo / but they wold not / And atte laste it noyed hem soo moche that the kynge hym self arose and

[leaf 357v] came to a wyndowe there where the knyght called / Thenne he said syr knyght ye shall not entre at this tyme whyle the sancgreal is here / and therfor goo in to another / For certes ye be none of the knyȝtes of the quest / but one of them whiche hath serued the fende / and hast lefte the seruyse of oure lord / and he was passynge wrothe at the kynges wordes / Sir knyght sayd the kynge syn ye wold so fayn entre / saye me of what coūtrey ye be / Sir sayd he I am of the Realme of Logrys / and my name is Ector de marys / and broder vnto my lord sir laūcelot / In the name of god sayd the kynge / me forthynketh of that I haue sayd for youre broder is here within / & whan Ector de marys vnderstood that his broder was there / for he was the man in the world that he moost dredde and loued / And thenne he sayd A god now doubleth my sorowe and shame / ful truly sayd the good man of the hylle vnto Gawayne and to me of oure dremes / Thenne wente he oute of the courte as fast as his hors myghte / and soo thurgh oute the Castel