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 Septimum

ANd whanne he was vnarmed / they ledd hym in to an hyhe toure where was a lady yonge / lusty and fayre / And she receyued hym with grete Ioye / and made hym to sytte doune by her / and soo was he sette to soupe with flesshe / and many deyntees / And whanne syre Bors sawe that / he bethought hym on his penaunce and badde a squyer to brynge hym water / / And soo he broughte hym / and he made soppes therin / and ete them / A sayd the lady / I trowe ye lyke not my mete / yes truly sayd syr Bors / god thanke yow madame but I may ete none other mete this daye / thenne she spak nomore as at that tyme / for she was lothe to displease hym /

¶ Thenne after souper they spak of one thynge and other / With that came a squyer and sayd / Madame ye must purueye yow to morne for a champyon / for els your syster wille haue this castel and also your landes excepte ye can fynde a knyȝt that wille fyghte to morne in your quarel ageynst Prydam le noyre / Thenne she made sorowe and sayd / A lord god wherfor graunted ye to hold my lond wherof I shold now be disheryted withoute reason and ryghte / And whanne sire Bors had herd her say thus / he sayd I shalle comforte yow / Syr sayd she I shal telle yow there was here a kynge that hyghte Anyause / whiche held alle this land in his kepynge / Soo hit myshapped he loued a gentilwoman a grete dele elder that I Soo tooke he her alle this land to her kepyng / and all his men to gouerne / and she brought vp many euylle custommes where by she putte to dethe a grete party of his kynnesmen / And whanne he sawe that / he lete charce her oute of this land / and bytoke hit me / and alle this land in my demenys / but anone as that worthy kynge was dede / this other lady beganne to werre vpon me / and hath destroyed many of my men / & tourned hem ageynste me / that I haue wel nyghe no man lefte me And I haue nought els but this hyhe toure that she lefte me And yet she hath promysed me to haue this Toure withoute I can fynde a knyghte to fyghte with her Champyon / Now telle me sayd syr Bors / what is that Prydam le noyre / fyre sayd she he is the moost doubted man of thys land /

¶ Now

[leaf 337v] may ye send her word that ye haue fond a knyghte that shall fyghte with that Prydam le noyre in goddes quarel & yours / Thenne that lady was not a lytel glad / and sente word that she was purueyed / and that nyghte Bors had good chere / but in no bedde he wold come / but leyd hym on the floore / nor neuer wold doo otherwyse tyl that he had met with the quest of the Sancgreal /