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

NOw torne we vnto sire Bors de ganys that cam vnto wynchestre to seke after his cosyn syre Launcelot / and soo whanne he cam to wynchestre / anone there were men that sire Lauayne had made to lye in a watche for suche a man and anone sir Lauayne had warnynge / and thenne sire Lauayne came to wynchestre / and fond sir Bors / and there he told hym what he was / and with whome he was / and what was his name /

¶ Now fayr knyghte said sire Bors I requyre yow that ye wille brynge me to my lord sir launcelot / Syre sayd sir Lauayne take your hors / & within this houre ye shall see hym / and soo they departed / and came to the hermytage /

¶ And whan sir Bors sawe sir launcelot lye in his bedde pale and discoloured / anone sir Bors lost his countenaunce / and for kyndenes and pyte / he myghte not speke / but wepte tendirly a grete whyle / And thenne whanne he myght speke / he said thus / O my lord sire launcelot god yow blysse / and send yow hasty recouer / And ful heuy am I of my mysfortune & of myn vnhappynes / for now I may calle my self vnhappy / & I drede me that god is gretely displeasyd with me that he wold suffre me to haue suche a shame for to hurte yow that ar alle oure leder / and alle oure worshyp / and therfor I calle my self vnhappy / Allas that euer suche a caytyf knyghte as I am shold haue power by vnhappynes to hurte the moost noblest knyghte of the world / where I soo shamefully set vpon yow and ouercharged yow / and where ye myghte haue slayne me ye saued me / and so dyd not I / For I and your blood did to yow our vtteraunce / I merueyle sayd sire Bors that my herte or my blood wold serue me / wherfor my lord sir launcelot I aske your mercy / Fair cosyn said sire Launcelot ye be ryght welcome / & wete ye wel / ouer moche ye say for to please

[leaf 377v] me / the whiche pleaseth me not / for why I haue the same y sought / for I wold with pryde haue ouercome yow alle / and there in my pryde I was nere slayne / and that was in myn owne defaute / for I myghte haue gyue yow warnyng of my beynge there / And thenne had I had noo hurte / for it is an old sayd sawe / there is hard bataille there as kynne & frendes doo bataille eyther ageynste other / there maye be no mercy but mortal warre / Therfor fair cosyn said sir launcelot / lete thys speche ouerpasse and alle shalle be welcome that god sendeth and lete vs leue of this mater / and lete vs speke of somme reioycynge / for this that is done maye not be vndone / and lete vs fynde a remedy how soone that I may be hole / Thenne sire Bors lened vpon his beddes syde / and told sire Launcelot how the quene was passynge wrothe with hym / by cause he ware the reed sleue at the grete Iustes / and there sir Bors told hym alle how sir Gawayne discouered hit by youre sheld that ye lefte with the fayre mayden of Astolat / Thenne is the quene wrothe said sir launcelot / and therfor am I ryght heuy / for I deserued no wrath / for alle that I dyd was by cause I wold not be knowen / Ryght so excused I yow said sir Bors but alle was in vayne / for she sayd more largelyer to me thā I to yow now / But is this she said sire Bors that is so besy aboute yow / that men calle the fayre mayden of Astolat / She it is said sire launcelot that by no meanes I can not putte her from me / why shold ye putte her from you said sire Bors / she is a passynge fayre damoysel and a wel bisene and wel taughte / and god wold fayre cosyn said syre Bors that ye coude loue her / but as to that I may not / nor I dare not counceyle yow / But I see wel sayd sir Bors by her dylygence aboute you that she loueth you entierly / that me repenteth said sir Laūcelot / syr said syr Bors / she is not the fyrst that hath loste her payn vpon yow / and that is the more pyte / and soo they talked of many moo thynges / And soo within thre dayes or four sire launcelot was bygge and stronge ageyne