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

ANd whanne the Quene herd them saye soo / she felle to the erthe in a dede swoune / and thenne syr Bors took her vp / and dawed her / & whanne she was awaked she kneled afore the thre knyghtes / and helde vp bothe their handes and besoughte them to seke hym / and spare not for noo goodes but that he be founden / for I wote he is oute of his mynde / & sir Bors / syr Ector / and syr Lyonel departed from the quene for they myght not abyde no lenger for sorowe / and thenne the quene sent them tresour ynough for theyr expencys / and so they took their horses and their armour and departed / and thenne they rode from countrey to countrey in forestes and in wyldernes and in wastes / and euer they laid watche bothe att forestes and at alle maner of men as they rode to herken and spere after hym / as he that was a naked man in his sherte with a swerd in his hand /

¶ And thus they rode nyghe a quarter of a yere endlonge and ouerthwarte in many places forestes and wildernes / and oftymes were euylle lodged for his sake / and yett for alle theire laboure and sekynge coude they neuer here word of hym /

¶ And wete yow well

[leaf 293v] these thre knyghtes were passynge sory / Thenne at the laste sire Bors and his felawes mette with a knyghte that hyght syr Melyon de Tartare / Now fayre knyȝt said sir Bors / whether be ye awey / for they knewe eyther other afore tyme / Sir said Melyon I am in the way toward the courte of kyng Arthur Thenne we praye yow sayd sire Bors that ye wille telle my lord Arthur and my lady quene Gueneuer and alle the felaushyp of the roūd table that we can not in no wyse here telle where syr launcelot is become /

¶ Thenne sire Melyon departed from them / and sayd that he wold telle the kynge and the quene and alle the felaushyp of the round table as they had desyred hym / Soo whanne sire Melyon came to the Courte of kynge Arthur / he told the kynge and the quene and al the felauship of the round table what sir Bors had said of syre Launcelot / Thenne sire Gawayne sire Vwayne / syr Sagramor le desyrus / syr Aglouale / and syre Percyuale de galys tooke vpon them by the grete desyre of kynge Arthur / and in especial by the quene to seke thorou out all Englond walys & Scotland to fynde sire Launcelot / and with hem rode eyghten knyghtes moo to bere them felauship / and wete ye wel / they lacked no maner of spendyng / and soo were they thre and twenty knyghtes /

¶ Now torne we to syre Launcelot / and speke we of his care and woo / and what payne he there endured / for cold / honger and thurste he had plente /

¶ And thus as these noble knyghtes rode to gyders / they by one assente departed / & thenne they rode by two / by thre / and by foure / and by fyue / & euer they assigned where they shold mete / And soo sir Aglouale and syr Percyuale rode to gyders vnto theyr moder that was a quene in tho dayes / And whanne she sawe her two sones / for Ioye she wepte tendyrly / And thenne she sayd / A my dere sones / whanne your fader was slayne / he lefte me iiij sones / of the whiche now be tweyn slayne / And for the dethe of my noble sone syre Lamorak shalle my herte neuer be gladde / And thenne she kneled doune vpon her knees to fore Aglouale and sir Percyuale / and besoughte them to abyde at home with her / A swete moder said syr Percyuale we may not / For we be come kynges blood of bothe partyes / and therfor moder it is our kynde to haunte armes and noble dedes / Allas

[leaf 294r] my swete sones thenne she sayd . for your sakes I shalle lese my lykynge and lust / and thenne wynde and weder I maye not endure / what for the dethe of your fader kynge Pellenore that was shamefully slayne by the handes of syr Gawayne / and his broder syre Gaherys / and they slewe hym not manly but by treason / A my dere sones this is a pyteous complaynte for me of your faders dethe / consyderynge also the dethe of sire Lamorak that of knyȝthode had but fewe felawes / Now my dere sones haue this is your mynde / Thenne there was but wepynge and sobbynge in the Courte whanne they shold departe / and she felle in swounynge in myddes of the Courte /