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 ix

THenne at the last syr Turquyn waxed faynte / and gaf somwhat a bak / and bare his shelde lowe for werynesse / That aspyed syre Launcelot / and lepte upon hym fyersly and gate hym by the Bauowre of his helmet / and plucked hym doune on his knees / And anone he racyd of his helme / and smote his neck in sondyr / And whanne syre laūcelot had done this / he yode vnto the damoysel and sayd / damoysel I am redy to goo with yow where ye wylle haue me / but I haue no hors / Fayre syre sayd she / take this wounded knyghtes hors and sende hym in to this manoyr and commaunde hym to delyuer alle the prysoners / Soo syr launcelot wente vnto Gaheryes and praid hym not to be agreued for to leue hym his hors Nay fayr lord said Gaheryes I wyll that ye take my hors atte your owne commaundement / for ye houe bothe saued me and my hors / & this day I saye ye are the best knyghte in the worlde For ye haue slayne this daye in my syghte the myȝtest man & the best knyghte excepte yow that euer I sawe / & fore syre said Gaheryes I pray you telle me your name / Syre my name is syr launcelot du lake that ouȝte to helpe you of ryghte for kyng arthurs sake / & in especial for my lord sir gawayns sake your owne dere broder / & whan that ye come within yonder manayr / I am sure ye shal fynde ther many knyȝtes of the round table / for I haue sene many of their sheldes that I knowe

[leaf 98v] on yonder tree / there is kayes shelde / & sir braundeles sheld / and syr Marhaus sheld and syre Galyndes shelde and syre Bryan de lystnoyse sheld and syr Alydukes sheld with many mo that I am not now auysed of / and also my two bretheren sheldes syre Ector de marys and syr Lyonel / wherfore I pray yow grete them al from me / and say that I bydde them take suche stuffe there as they fynd / and that in ony wyse my bretheren goo vnto the courte and abyde me there tyl that I come / for by the feest of pentecost I cast me to be there / for as at this tyme I must ryde with this damoysel for to saue my promyse / and soo he departed from Gaheryse / & Gaheryse yede in to the manore / and ther he fond a yoman porter kepyng ther many keyes / Anone with al syre gaheryse threwe the porter vnto the ground / and toke the keyes from hym / and hastely he opened the pryson dore / and there he lete oute all the prysoners / and euery man losed other of their boundes / And whan they sawe syre Gaheryse / alle they thanked hym / for they wend that he was wounded / Not soo sayd Gaheryse / hit wos launcelot that slewe hym worshipfully with his owne handes / I sawe it with myn owne eyen / and he greteth you al wel / and prayeth you to haste you to the courte / And as vnto syr Lyonel and Ector de marys he prayeth yow to abyde hym at the court That shalle we not doo says his bretheren / we wyll fynde hym and we may lyue / So shal I sayd syr kay fynde hym or I come at the courte as I am true knyghte / Thenne alle tho knyghtes sought the hous there as the armour was / and thenne they armed hem / and euery knyght fonde his owne hors / & al thet euer longed vnto hym / And whan this was done ther cam a foster with foure horses lade with fatte veneson / A none syr kay sayd / here is good mete for vs for one meale / for we had not many a day no good repast / And so that veneson was rosted baken and soden / and so after souper somme abode there al that nyghte / But syre Lyonel and Ector de marys and syre kay rode after syre launcelot to fynde hym yf they myghte