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 xviij

THenne sir Tristram dredde sore lest he were discouerd vnto the kynge that he was there / wherfore he drewe hym to the strengthe of the Toure / and armed hym in suche armour as he had to fyghte with hem that wold withstande hym / And soo whanne sire Tristram sawe / there was no resystence ageynst hym / he sente Gouernaile for his hors and his spere / and knyghtely he rode forth oute of the castel openly that was called the castel of Tyntagil / And euen atte gate he mette with Gyngalyn syr Gawayns sone / And anone sir Gyngalyn putte his spere in his reyste / and ranne vpon sire Trystram and brake his spere / and sire Tristram at that

[leaf 183r] tyme had but a swerd / and gaf hym suche a buffet vpon the helme that he fylle doune from his sadel / and his swerd slode adoune / and carf a sonder his hors neck / And soo sire tristram rode his waye in to the forest / and alle this doynge sawe kyng Mark / And thenne he sente a squyer vnto the hurte knyghte and commaunded hym to come to hym / and soo he dyd / And whanne kynge Marke wyst that it was sir Gyngalyn / he welcomed hym / and gaf hym an hors / and asked hym what knyght hit was that had encoūtred with hym / Syr said sir gyngalyn / I wote not what knyȝt he was / but wel I wote that he sygheth and maketh grete dole / Thenne sir Tristram within a whyle mette with a knyght of his owne that hyghte sir Fergus / And whan he had mette with hym he made grete sorowe in so moche that he felle doune of his hors in a swoune / and in suche sorowe he was in thre dayes and thre nyghtes / Thenne at the laste sir Tristram sent vnto the courte by sir Fergus for to spere what tydynges / And so as he rode by the way he met with a damoysel that came from sir Palamydes to knowe and seke how sir Tristram dyd / Thenne sir Fergus told her / how he was al most out of his mynde /

¶ Allas said the damoysel where shalle I fynde hym / In suche a place said sire Fergus

¶ Thenne sir Fergus fond Quene Isoud seke in her bedde / makynge the grettest dole that euer ony erthely woman made And whan the damoysel fonde sire Tristram / she made grete dole by cause she myȝt not amende hym / for the more she made of hym / the more was his payne / And at the last sir Tristram toke his hors and rode aweye from her / And thenne was it thre dayes or that she coude fynde hym / And thenne she broughte hym mete and drynke / but he wold none / and thenne another tyme sir Tristram escaped awey from the damoysel / and it happed hym to ryde by the same castel where sire Palamydes and sir Tristram dyd bataille whan la beale Isoud departed them / And there by fortune the damoysel mette with sire Tristram ageyne makynge the grettest dole that euer erthely creature made / and she yede to the lady of that castel / and tolde her of the mysauenture of sire Tristram / allas said the lady of that castel where is my lord sir tristram / Ryght here by your castel said the damoysel / In good tyme saide the lady / is he soo nyghe me / he

[leaf 183v] shalle haue mete and drynke of the best / and an harp I haue of his / where vpon he taught me / For of goodely harpynge he bereth the pryce in the world / So this lady and damoisel brought hym mete and drynke / but he ete lytel therof / Thenne vpon a nyght he putte his hors from hym / And thenne he vnlaced his armour / and thenne sir Tristram wold go in to the wildernesse and brast doune the trees and bowes / and other-whyle whan he fond the harp that the lady sente hym / thenne wold he harpe and playe therupon / and wepe to gyders / and somtyme whan sire Tristram was in the woode that the lady wyst not where he was / thenne wold she sytte her doune and playe vpon that harp / Thenne wold sire Tristram come to that harp / and herken ther to / and somtyme he wold harpe hym self Thus he there endured a quarter of a yere / thēne at the last he ranne his way / and she wiste not where he was become / And thenne was he naked and waxed lene / and poure of flesshe / and soo he felle in the felauship of herd men and sheepherdes / and dayly they wold gyue hym somme of their mete / & drynke / And whan he dyd ony shrewd dede / they wold bete hym with roddes / and soo they clypped hym with sheres and made hym lyke a foole