Kynge Rycharde cuer du lyon

¶ Here begynneth the hystorye of Kynge Rycharde cure du lyon / and fyrst of his byrth . LOrdes harken now beforne How kynge Rycharde was borne His fader was cleped kynge Harry In his tyme sykerly As I fynde in this sawe Saynt Thomas was Islawe At Caunterbury before the auter stone There myracles be done many one Whan he was .xx. wynter olde He was a kynge swythe bolde He wolde no wyfe I vnderstonde With grete tresour thoughe they her fonde Neuertheles his barons hym redde That he graunted them a wyfe to wedde Hastely he sente his sonde In to many a dyuers londe The fayrest woman that was on lyue They sholde brynge hym to wyue Messengers be redy dyght To shyppe they wente that same nyght And theyr sayle vp they drowe The wynde them serued well I nowe And they came amyddes the see No wyndes brethe ne had he Therfore they were swythe wo Another shyppe they encountred tho Suche ne sawe they neuer none For it was so gay begone Euery nayle with golde I graue Of pure golde was his sklaue Her mast was of Iuory Of samyte her sayle wytly Her ropes all of whyte sylke As whyte as euer was ony mylke The noble shyppe was without With clothes of golde spred about And her lofte and her wyndlace All with golde depaynted was In the shyppe there were dyght Knyghtes and lordes of myght And a lady therin was Bryght as sonne throwe the glas Her men abrode gan stonde And becked them with her honde And prayed them for to dwell And theyr auentures to tell They graunted all with skyll For to tell all her wyll To dyuerse londes do we wende For kynge Harry hath vs sende For to seche hym a quene The fayrest that myght on erth bene Vp arose a kynge of a chayre With that worde and spake fayre The chayre was of carbunkel stone Suche sawe they neuer none And other dukes hym besyde Noble men of moche pryde And welcomed the messengers euerychone In to the shyppe they gan gone Thyrty knyghtes without lye Forsothe was in that company In that ryche shyppe they wente The messengers that were sente Knyghtes and ladyes came them agayne Seuen score as men sayne And welcomed them at one worde Clothes of sylke were spred on borde The kynge than anone badde As it is in ryme radde That his doughter were forth fet And in a chayre by hym set Trumpettes began to blowe She was set in a throwe With .xx. knyghtes her aboute And double so many of ladyes stoute All they began to knele her to For it was reason so to do They ete and dranke & were glad For so the ryche kynge bad Whan they had done theyr mete Of auentures they began to speke The kynge them tolde in his reason How it came hym in a vysyon In his londe that he came fro In to Englonde for to go And his doughter that was hym dere For to wende with hym in fere And in this maner we be dyght Vnto your londe to wende ryght Than answered a messengere His name was cleped Barnagere Ferther wyll we seke nought To my lorde she shall be brought Whan he her with eyen doth se Full well apayed wyll he be The wynde rose out of the north west And serued them with the best At the toure they gan aryue To londe the knyghtes wente blyue The messengers the kynge hath tolde Of that lady fayre and bolde There he laye in toure The lady that was whyte as floure Kynge Harry gan hym soone dyght With erles barons and many a knyght Ayenst that lady for to wende For he was courteys and hende The damoysell to londe was ladde Clothes of golde before her spradde The messengers on eche a syde And mynstrelles of moche pryde Kynge Harry lyked her seynge That fayre lady and her fader the kynge And sayd to hym ryght so Ye be welcome all me to To westmynster they wente in fere Lordes ladyes that there were Trumpettes began for to blowe To mete they wente in a throwe Knyghtes there serued a good spede Of theyr mete to tell it is no nede And after mete in hyenge Speketh Harry our kynge To the kynge that sate in same Good syr what is your name My name he sayd is Carbarrynge Of antyoche I am the kynge He tolde hym his reason How hym came in vysyon Syr he sayd I tell the I had brought elles more meyne Many mo without fayle And mo shyppes with vytayle Yet asked he that lady bryght What name my lady ye hyght Cosodorean without lesynge Thus answered she the kynge Damoysell he sayd bryght and shene Wyll ye dwell and be my quene She answered with wordes styll Syr I am at my faders wyll Her fader graunted swythe sone At your wyll it shall be done Hastely that she be wedde As a quene to a kynges bedde And prayd hym for his courtesy It myght be done all pryuely The spousynge was done that nyght Therat daunsed many a knyght Moche Ioye was then amonge A preest full soone the masse songe And whan it came to the leuacyowne In a swounynge she fell downe The people than her sore a dradde In to a chambre she was ladde She sayd for I am thus hent I dare neuer se the sacrament Vpon the more her fader toke leue No lenger wolde he there be leue The kynge dwelled with his quene Chyldren they had them bytwene Two sones and a mayd Forsothe as the boke vs sayd Rycharde hyght the fyrst Iwys Wherfore these romayns made is And Iohan forsothe that other was And theyr syster hyght Copyas Thus they dwelled in fere Tyll the .xv. yere Vpon a daye before the rode The kynge at his masse stode There came an erle of grete poste Syr he sayd how may this be That my lady the quene The sacrament dare not sene Gyue vs leue to do her dwell Fro the begynnynge of the gospell Tyll the masse be songe and sayd And than shall ye se a queynt brayd The kynge graunted with good wyll For to holde her with strength styll Neyther for wele ne for woo Let her not out of the chyrche goo And whan the bell began to rynge The preest sholde make the sakerynge Out of the chyrche she wolde awaye But the erle sayd soone naye He sayd lady thou shalte abyde For ony thynge that may betyde She toke her doughter vpon her honde And Iohan her sone she wolde not wonde Out of the rofe she gan her dyght Openly before all theyr syght Iohan fell frome her in that stonde And brake his thygh on the grounde And with her doughter she fled her waye That neuer after she was I sey The kynge wondred of that thynge That she made suche an endynge For loue that she was serued so Wolde he neuer after come there ne go He let ordeyne after his endynge H●s sone Rycharde to be kynge Crowned after kynge Harry Thus was Rycharde sykerly That was in his .xv. yere He was a man of grete powere Dedes of armes he gaue hym to As falleth for kynges and knyghtes to do He waxed so stronge and so wyght Ayenst hym had no man no myght In euery stede he toke honoure As a noble kynge and conqueroure

¶ How kynge Rycharde made a Iustynge .

woodcut of a joust

THe fyrst yere that he was kynge At Salysbury he made a Iustynge And commaunded euery man to be there Bothe with shelde and with spere Erles and barons euerychone At home ne dwelled neuer one On forfeyture on lyfe and londe For nothynge that they ne wonde This was cryed I vnderstonde Thorughout all Englonde All was for to loke and se The knyghtes that best myght be There they came all at his wyll His commaundement to fulfyll The partyes were sonder set Togyder they ran without let Kynge Rycharde gan hym dysguyse In a full stronge queyntyse He came out of a valaye For to se of theyr playe As a knyght auenturous His atyre was orgulous All togyder cole blacke Was his horse without lacke Vpon his creste a rauen stode That yaned as he were wode And aboute his necke a bell Wherfore the reason I shall you tell The oynge of the rauen is In trauayll for to be Iwys Sygnyfyaunce of the bell With holy chyrche to dwell And them to noy and to greue That be not in the ryght byleue He bare a shalte that was grete and stronge It was fourtene fote longe And it was grete and stoute One and twenty inches aboute The fyrst knyght that he there mette Full egerly he hym grette With a dente amyd the shelde His horse he bare downe in the felde And the knyght fell to grounde Full nye deed in that stounde The nexte that he mette thare A grete stroke he hym bare His forgette with his cornell tho His necke he brake there a two His horse and he fell to grounde And dyed bothe in that stounde Kynge Rycharde gan houe & abyde Yf ony mo wolde to hym ryde Trumpettes began for to blowe Knyghtes Iusted in that rowe Another knyght hardy and good Sate on a stede rede as blode He dyde hym arme and well dyght In all that longed to suche a knyght A shafte he toke grete and louge That was so heuy and stronge And sayd he wolde to hym ryde Yf he durste hym abyde Trumpettes began to blowe than Therby wyste many a man That they sholde Iuste mere The noble knyghtes that there were Kynge Rycharde of hym was ware And aspere to hym he bare And encountred hym in the felde He bare awaye halfe his shelde His pusen therwith gan gone And also his brandellet bone His vyser and his gorgere Hym repented that be came there Kynge Rycharde houed and behelde And thought to rest hym in the felde Yf there were other knyght or swayne That wolde more ryde hym agayne He sawe there wolde come none On his waye he gan forth gone Into a wode out or theyr lyght And in another tyre he hym dyght Vpon a stede rede as blode With all the tyre that on hym stode Horse and shelde armure and man That no man sholde knowe hym than Vpon his creste a rede hounde The tayle henge to the grounde That was sygnyfycacyon The hethen folke to brynge downe Them to slee for goddes loue And crysten men to brynge aboue Styll he houed and bode yore To them he thought to ryde more He rode the thronge all aboute He helde within and withoute A baron he sawe hym besyde Towarde hym he gan ryde To asquyer he toke his spere To hym he wolde it not bere Forth he toke a mansell A stroke he thought to be set well On his helme that was so stronge Of that dente the fyre out spronge The baron tourned hym asyde And sayd felowe forth thou ryde With thy speres go and playe Come no more here I the praye And syketly yf thou do Thou shalte haue a knocke or two Kynge Rycharde wondred in his thought That he set his stroke at nought And came agayne by another waye And thought to make a better paye In his styrope vp he stode And smote to hym with Ire full mode He set his stroke on his yron hat But that other in his sadell sat Hastely without wordes mo His mase he toke in his honde tho That was made of yotyn bras He wondred who that it was Suche a stroke he hym lente That Rycharde feet out of his steropes wente For plate ne for acketton For hawberke ne for campeson Suche a stroke he neuer had none ore That dyde hym halfe so moche sore Full swythe awaye he gan ryde Out of the prees there besyde To hym selfe he sayd tho Of suche strokes kepe I no mo He wente adowne to a well And with his helme dranke his fell And he watred his stede also In the thyrde atyre he let hym do All his atyre whyte as mylke His croper was of sylke Vpon his shulder a crosse rede That betokeneth goddes dede With his enemyes for to fyght To wynne the crosse yf that he myght Vpon his heed a doue whyte Sygnyfycacyon of the holy spyryte To be bolde to wynne the pryse And dystroye goddes enemyes To the kynge Rycharde gan hym dyght Than another noble knyght Fouke doly was his name The kynge hym loued for his fame To hym a stroke he dyght Well to paye with all his myght He smote hym on his bassenet A grete dente without let It swouned to his cheke bone Syr Fouke bad hym forth gone That he no lenger abyde In auenture yf ony stroke betyde The kynge sawe he felte no sore And thought to gyue hym more And another stroke he hym brayde His mase vpon his heed he layde With good wyll that stroke he set The baron thought he wolde hym let And with his heuy mase of stele There he gaue the kynge his dele That his helme all to roue And he ouer his sadell droue And his steropes he forbare Suche a stroke had he neuer are He was so astonyed of that dente That nye he had his lyfe lente And for that stroke that hym was gyuen He ne wyst whether it was daye or euen Tho he recouered of his swowe To his palays he hym drowe Than he commaunded hastely Herodes for to make crye And euery man for to wende Home to his owne frende The kynge anone a messengere Full preuely he sente there To syr Thomas of multon That was a noble baron And to syr Fouke dely That they come to hym on hye Let them not dwell in no manere Bydde them come bothe in fere The messengers therwith wente And sayd the kynge after them sente Swythe for to come hym to Without delaye that it be do The knyghtes hyed and were blythe To the kynge they wente swythe And hendly they hym grette And he them toke and by hym sette And sayd to them wordes free Welcome be ye now to me In eyther honde he toke one And in to a chambre they gone Quod Rycharde swete frendes twaye Tell me the sothe I you praye What knyghtes that rode best cours Of this Iustes paramours And whiche coude best his crafte For to demene well his shafte With dentes for to fell his foos Whiche of them wan the loos And who styffest tymbre brake Quod Thomas one in a tyre blake Came pryckynge ouer falowe and felde All that there was hym behelde How he rode as he were wode A rome he houed and withstode On his creste a rauen swarte And he ne helde with neyther parte A shafte he bare styfe and stronge Fourtene fote it was longe It was bothe styffe and stoute Anone he asked all the route Yf ony durst come and proue A cours for his lemmans loue With a knyght of auenturous here A yonge knyght a Ioly bachelere Hente a shafte and stede bestrode To the auenturous knyght he rode The auenturous with hym met Suche a stroke on his shelde he set That horse and man ouerthrewe There was no wyght that hym knewe Trompettes yede herodes gaderynge All the other knyghtes of hym had dredynge To Iuste with hym efte with launce The auenturous betyde so fayre chaunce And hardy knyght stoute and sauage Hente a shafte with stronge rage Now hath he one of oures felde Worth we neuer for men telde Syth he hath done vs that dyspyte Yf he agayne passe quyte That fyrste he haue no knocke He prycked forth fro all the flocke With a shafte stoute and square Amydde the cours than met they thare The auenturous smote his shelde amydde A wonders case our knyght betydde The auenturous felde hym with Ire Downe of his stede and brake his swyre The thre knyghtes to speke began This is the deuyll and no man That our folke felleth and sleeth Tyde me lyfe tyde me deeth I shall mete hym yf I may The auenturous knyght with grete deray So harde to our knyght he droue His shelde in two peces he cloue His shulder with his shafte he bracke And bare hym ouer his horse backe That he fell downe and brake his arme He dyde hym no more harme The auenturous tho tourned ayene And houed styll for to sene Who wolde Iuste with hym more Of hym they were adradde full sore No man durste Iuste with hym efte Leste he them theyr lyfe berefte Whan he sawe there came no mo He rode agayne there he came fro After the blacke another came All the folke gaue hym good name His horse and his atyre was rede He semed well to be a quede A rede hounde on his helme aboue He came to seche and to proue Yf ony knyght Iuste with hym dare Of no man tho was he ware That hym made chalenge He rode downe tho by the renge The deuyll hym hange where euer he be I wote not what hym ayled at me His shafte tho his squyre he toke And behelde me with a grym loke And smote me so with his mase Ne had be Ihesu crystes grace My swyre had gone awaye I bad hym ryde forth his waye And dele with foles as his selfe was Agayne he came by another pas And gaue me a worse buffate But styll in my sadell I sate Than sayd many a moders sone Alas syr Thomas of multone That is smyten without skyll My mase I hente with good wyll And smote hym that all folkes saye Downe of his horse withouten naye Whan I had hym a stroke set And wolde haue blyssed hym bet No mo strokes wolde he abyde But awaye soone he gan ryde Whan multon had his tale tolde Syr Fouke doly a baron bolde Sayd to kynge Rycharde The thyrde there came soone afterwarde His atyre was whyte as snowe Therof many one there lowe In his shelde a crosse rede as blode A whyte doue on his helme stode He houed styll and behelde vs yerne yf there were ony knyght so sterne So hardy a man and stronge of bones That durst Iuste with hym ones There was none so stoute ne grym That durst Iuste ones with hym Downe by the renge he wente faste To me he came at the laste Forsothe syr kynge quod Fouke than I wende he had ben a symple man With his mase on my bassenet A stroke vpon my helme he set With wrathe stronge and eger mayne That nygh all astonyed was my brayne I spake to hym wordes fewe And badde hym ryde worth wood shrewe And playe with them that be thy pere yf thou come ofte in this manere For to be wyse I shall the teche Efte he came agayne to seche A worse stroke he gaue me tho And my mase I drewe me to And a stroke I hym set Euen vpon his bassenet That bothe his styropes he lese And he hyed hym faste out of the prese Home towarde the wodde bowe Kynge Rycharde sate and faste lowe And sayd frendes sykerly Take it not in grefe for it was I Whan ye were gadred in fere Auenturous I came in this manere Who was strongest you to assaye And who that coude best strokes paye Lordes he sayd wote ye ought What I haue ordeyned in thought The holy londe to wende to We thre without ony mo All in palmers guyse The holy londe to deuyse Come I wolde that ye were sworne No man to knowe it that is borne Neyther for wele ne for woo Tyll that we be come and goo They graunted hym his askynge Without ony withsayenge With hym to lyue and to dye Lettynge for loue ne for enuye On the boke they layde theyr honde To that forwarde for to stonde Tho they asked all thre Trewe sworne for to be Trompettes blewe and made crye To mete they wente hastely And on the .xii. daye at ende They were redy for to wende With pycke and with slauayne As palmers or panayme

¶ How kynge Rycharde toke shyppynge .

woodcut of two figures at a dock

NOw they dyght them full yare These thre knyghtes for to fare They set vp sayle the wynde was good And sayled ouer the salte flood In to flaunders as I you saye Kynge Rycharde and his feres twaye Forth they wente with gladde chere Thorugh many londes farre and nere Tyll they came to blaundys That is a coste of moche pryse A noble shyppe they founde thare Ouer the see for to fare The sayle was reysed in the shyppe stronge And in the see they were longe There they dwelled forty dayes For to lerne the londes layes Syth they dyde them to the see Towarde Acrys that ryche cyte And so forth to masydoyne And to the cyte of Babyloyne And so forth to sysare Of nynyue they were ware And also of Iherusalem And to the cyte of bedleem And to the cyte of gandon turry And also to obedy And to the castell of orgulous And to the cyte of apparylous To Iaffe and to saffrayne To bryght and to betayne Thus they vysyted the holy londe How they myght it wynne to theyr honde And syth homewarde they them dyght To englonde with all theyr myght Whan they had passed the grekes see In almayne the palmers thre There they wrought or they thens myght goo That tourned them to moche woo I shall you tell in what manere Now harken all that ben here Agoos they dyght to theyr dynere In a tauerne there they were Kynge Rycharde the fyre fet And Thomas to the spytte hym set Fouke doly made the bose Full dere bought they the gose And as they were etynge theyr fyll An one there came in a mynstryll And sayd good men sykerly Wyll ye haue ony mynstrelsy Kynge Rycharde bad hym thens go That tourned them to moche wo The mynstrell toke that in mynde And thought that they were vnkynde And yf I may they shall forthynke For they bad me neyther ete ne drynke For gentylles sholde bydden To glee men that aboute yeden Of theyr mete wyne or ale For lose ryseth of mynstrale They were englysshe well he knewe By speche and syght hyde and hewe For he wente in that tyde To a castell there besyde And tolde the kynge all and some That thre men were to the cyte come Stronge men bolde and fere In the worlde is not theyr pere Kynke Rycharde of englonde was the one man Fouke doly was that other than The thyrde Thomas of Multon Noble knyghtes of renowne In palmers wede they be dyght That no man sholde knowe them ryght To hym sayd the kynge Iwys That thou haste yf it sothe is Thou shalte haue thy warysowne And chose thy selfe a ryche towne The kynge commaunded his knyghtes To arme them in all myghtes And go and take them all thre And swythe brynge them to me Forth wente the knyghtes in fere And toke the palmers at theyr dynere They were brought before the kynge And he asked them in hyenge Palmers he sayd whens be ye Of Englonde they sayd we be What hyght thou falowe sayd the kynge Rycharde he sayd without lesynge What hyght thou he sayd to the elder man Fouke doly he answered than And what thou he sayd gray here Thomas of multon he sayd there The kynge asked them all thre What they dyde in his countre I saye you without lyes Ye seme well to be spyes Ye haue sene my londe vp and downe I trowe ye thynke me some treasowne For as moche as thou syr kynge And thy barons without lesynge Seme not to be thus dyght Therfore ye shall with law & ryght Ben not in a stronge pryson For ye thynke to do me treason Kynge Rycharde sayd so mote I the Thou dooth vnryght thynketh me Palmers that gone by the waye Them to pryson nyght or daye Syr kynge for thy courtesy Do vs palmers no vylony For his loue that we haue songht Let vs go and greue vs nought For auentures that may betyde In straunge londes where thou ryde The kynge commaunded anone In to pryson them to done The porter I vnderstonde Toke Rycharde by the honde And his felawes with hym tyte Lenger had they no respyte Tyll that other daye at pryme The kynges sone came in euyll tyme Wardrewe was his name He was a knyght of grete fame He was grete stronge and fere In that londe was not his pere Porter he sayd I praye the Thy prysoners lette me see The porter sayd all at your wyll Erly or late loude or styll He brought them forth all thre Rycharde formest tho came he Wardrewe spake to hym than Arte thou Rycharde the stronge man As men saye in eche londe Darste thou stonde a buffet of my honde And to morowe I gyue the leue Suche another me to gyue Anone kynge Rycharde Graunted to that forwarde The kynges sone fyers and proute Gaue Rycharde an eere cloute The fyre out of his eyen spronge Rycharde thought he dyde hym wronge And sware his othe by saynt Martyn To morowe I shall paye myn The kynges sone with good wyll Badde they sholde haue theyr fyll Bothe of drynke and eke of mete The best that they wolde ete That they myght not a wyte For feblenes his dente to smyte And in to bedde be brought to reste To quyte his that he be preste The kynges sone was curtese That nyght he made hym well at ease On the morowe whan it was daye Rycharde rose as I you saye Waxe he toke clere and bryght And sone a fyre he hym dyght And wexed his hondes by the fyre Ouerthwarde and endlonge be you sure A strawes brede thycke and more For he thought to smyte sore With his honde he hath tyght To make a payne that he hath hyght The kynges sone came in than To holde forwarde as a trewe man And before Rycharde he stode And spake to hym with Ire full mode Smyte he sayd with thy myght Thou hast I fared well this nyght And yf I stope or felde Kepe me neuer to bere shelde Vnder his cheke Recharde his honde layde He that it sawe the sothe sayd Flesshe and skynne awaye he tare That he fell downe in grete care He all to brake his cheke bone That he was deed as ony stone A knyght sterte to the kynge And tolde hym that tydynge Thar Rycharde had his sone sloo Alas he sayd how shall I doo With that worde he fell to grounde As a man that was in wo bounde He foundred and lost his fete Knyghtes toke hym vp without let● And sayd syr let be thy thought Now it is it done helpeth nought The kynge spake wordes on hye To the knyghtes that stode hym bye Tell me swythe of this cas In what maner that it done was Styll they stode euerychone For sorowe myght they tell none With that noyse came the quene Alas she sayd how may this bene Why is this sorowe and this fare Who hath brought you in care Dame he sayd wotest thou nought Thy fayre sone to deth is brought Syth I was borne to man Suche sorowe had neuer woman All my Ioye is tourned to woo For sorowe I wolde my selfe sloo Whan the quene vnderstode For grete care she waxed ny wode Her kerchers she drewe and heer also Alas she sayd what shall I do She cratched her selfe in the vysage As a woman that was in a rage She fomed all on blode And rente her robe that she in stode And sayd alas that I was borne That thus my sone haue forlorne Lorde she sayd how may this be These knyghtes he sayd tolde it me Now tell the sothe the kynge sayd than In what maner saye ye this dede began And but ye the sothe sey An euyll deth shall ye dey The knyghtes called the Iaylere And badde he sholde stonde nere To bere wytnes of that sawe In what maner he was slawe The Iayler sayd yesterdaye at pryme Your sone came in an euyll tyme To the pryson dore to me And the palmers he wolde se And I fet them forth anone Rycharde formest gan gone Wardrewe asked without let If he wolde stonde hym a buffet And he hym wolde another stonde As he was trewe knyght in londe Rycharde sayd by this lyght Smyte on with all thy myght Rycharde had suche a stroke of Wardrewe That full nygh he hym ouerthrewe Rycharde he sayd now bydde I the To morowe another thou gyue me They departed in this wyse On the morowe Rycharde began to ryse And your sone anone came And Rycharde ayenst hym name As couenaunt was bytwene them twayne Rycharde smote the sothe to sayne Euen all a two his cheke bone That he fell deed as ony stone And as I am sworne to you here Thus it was in this manere The kynge sayd with eger wyll In pryson they shall be styll And fetters vpon theyr fete feste For this dede done vnwreste And for he hath my sone slawe He shall dye by ryght lawe The Iaylere yede as he was sent To do the kynges commaundement That daye ete they no mete Nor no drynke myght they gete The kynges doughter laye in her boure With ladyes and maydens of honoure Margery her name hyght She loked Rycharde with all her myght At the mydde daye before the none To the pryson she wente soone With her wente maydens thre Porter she sayd let me se The prysoners hastely Blythly he sayd sykerly He brought them forth anone ryght Fayre they grette that lady bryght And sayd to her with herte fre With vs lady what wyll ye Whan she sawe Rycharde with her eyen two Her loue she caste vpon hym tho She sayd Rycharde saue god aboue Of all thynge moost I the loue Alas quod Rycharde in that stounde With wronge I am brought to grounde I poore prysoner as ye may se What may my loue do to the This is the thyrde daye agone That mete nor drynke had I none The lady had of hym pyte Certes it shall amended be She commaunded the Iaylere Mete and drynke to fetche them there And the Irons frome them take I praye the for my sake

¶ Of the loue bytwene the kynges doughter and kynge Rycharde / and after how that kynge Rycharde slewe a lyon / and how he ete the herte of the lyon all rawe / wherfore he hadde the name / stronge kynge Rycharde cure de lyon

woodcut of six people at court

ANd after souper in the euenynge To my chambre thou Rycharde brynge In the tyre of a squyere My selfe I shall kepe hym there By Ihesu cryst and by saynt Symon Thou shalte haue thy waryson The Iayler forgate it nought To her chambre he hym brought With that mayde he dwelled styll And played with her his wyll Tyll the seuenth daye sykerly He yede and came pryuely He was aspyed of a knyght That to the chambre he came ryght Pryuely he tolde the kynge That forlayne was his doughter yinge The kynge asked hym soone Who hath he sayd that dede done Rycharde he sayd that traytour He hath done you the dyshonour Syr he sayd by my crystendome I sawe whan he wente and come The kynge in herte syghed sore To hym spake he tho no more But swythe without fayle Sente after his counsayle Erles and barons and wyse clerkes For to counseyll hym of his werkes The messengers gan forth gone His counseyliours came anone By that it was the .xiiii. daye They were come as I you saye All at ones they grette the kynge Sothe to saye without lesynge He sayd lordes welcome be ye all He wente forth in to the hall Amonge them the kynge hym set I shall you tell without let Why I haue after you sente To gyue a traytour Iugement That hath done grete treason Kynge Rycharde that is in my pryson All he them tolde in his sawe How he had his sone I slawe And he were deed than were I fayne For he shall neuer home agayne And now it is ordeyned so Men shall no kynge to deth do To hym spake a bolde baron How came kynge Rycharde in your pryson He is holden so noble a kynge To hym dare no man do thynge The kynge tolde hym in all wyse How he hym founde and in what guyse And with hym other two barons Noble men of grete renouns I toke them through suspeccyon In this maner to my pryson He toke leue of them euerychone In to a chambre he bad them gone For to take theyr counsayle That them myght best auayle In theyr speche they dwelled thore Two dayes and somdele more And stroue as they were wode With grete errour & with grete mode Some wolde hym hange and drawe And some sayd it was no lawe On this maner to slee a kynge They ne myght accorde for no thynge The wysest sayd verament We wyll gyue hym no Iugement Thus answered they the kynge Syr greue you no thynge For syr Eldrede forsothe Iwys He can you tell what best is For he is a wyse man of rede That many a man hath dampned to dede The kynge badde without lette That he were before hym fette He was brought before the kynge The whiche hym axed at his comynge Canst thou me tell in what manere On Rycharde that I auenged were He answered I tell the Theron I must auyse me Ye wote well it is no lawe A kynge to hange ne to drawe Therfore do by my reason Hastely take your lyon And with holde hym his mete Thre dayes that he none ete And Rycharde in a chambre do And put the lyon than hym to In this maner he shall be slawe Than doost thou not ayenst the lawe The lyon there shall hym sloo Than arte thou awreked of thy foo The mayde aspyed of that reasone And than bethought her soone And after hym soone she sent To warne hym of that Iugement Whan he to her chambre came than Welcome she sayd my lemman My lorde hath ordeyned thorugh rede The thyrde daye thou shalte be dede In to a chambre thou shalte be do And a lyon shall be put the to That shall haue honger sore Than wote I well thou lyuest no more But swete lemman sayd she thare Let vs out of this londe fare With golde and syluer & moche mony I nought to spende than haue I Rycharde sayd I vnderstonde That were ayenst the lawe of londe Awaye to wende without leue The kynge I wyll not so greue Of the lyon gyue I nought Hym to slee haue I thought By pryme vpon the thyrde daye I wyll haue his herte to praye Kerchers he asked of sylke Fourty elles as whyte as mylke In to the pryson ye them brynge A lytell before the euenynge Whan it to the tyme came The mayde to pryson the way name And with her a noble knyght Theyr souper was redy dyght Rycharde and his tway fere Had y nought to theyr soupere And the porter also She bad he sholde so do That nyght they were glad ynowe Euery man syth to chambre drowe And Rycharde and that swete wyght Togyder dwelled all that nyght And on the morowe whan it was daye Rycharde badde her to wende awaye Naye she sayd by god aboue I shall here dye for thy loue Ryght now here I wyll abyde Though I sholde to deth betyde Certes hens wyll I not wende I shall take the grace that god wyll sende Rycharde sayd fayre lady free But thou wende soone frome mee Thou shalte me greue sore That I shall loue the no more There ayenst she sayd naye Lemman haue now good daye God that dyed on the tre Saue the yf his wyll be The keuerthefes he toke on honde And aboute his arme he wonde And thought in that ylke whyle To slee the lyon with some gyle And syngle in a kyrtell he stode And abode the lyon fyers and wode With that came the Iaylere And other men that with hym were And the lyon them amonge His pawes were styffe and stronge The chambre dore they vndone And the lyon to hym is gone Rycharde sayd helpe lorde Ihesu The lyon made to hym venu And wolde hym haue all to rente Kynge Rycharde besyde hym glente The lyon on the breste hym spurned That aboute he tourned The lyon was hongry and megre And bette his tayle to be egre He loked aboute as he were madde Abrode he all his pawes spradde He cryed lowde and yaned wyde Kynge Rycharde bethought hym that tyde What hym was best and to hym sterte In at the throte his honde he gerte . And hente out the herte with his honde Lounge and all that he there fonde The lyon fell deed to the grounde Rycharde felte no wem ne wounde He fell on his knees in that place And thanked Ihesu of his grace That hym kepte frome shame and harme He toke the herte also warme And brought it forth in the hall Before the kynge and his lordes all The kynge at mete sate at the dese The erles barons proude in prese The salte on the table stode Kynge Rycharde thryste out all the blode And wette the herte in the salte The kynge and his men hym behalte Without brede he it gan ete The kynge wondred and began to speke Iwys as I vnderstonde can This his the deuyll and no man He hath my stronge lyon slawe The herte out of the body drawe And hath it eten with good wyll He may be called with good skyll Crysten kynge moost of renowne Stronge Rycharde cure delyowne

¶ How kynge Rycharde sente for his raunsome

woodcut of a messanger delivering a letter

NNow of this lette we be And of the kynge speke we In care & mournynge ledeth his lyfe And ofte calleth hymselfe caytyfe And cursed the tyme that he was borne For his sone hath he forlorne And his doughter is forlayne And this his lyon is thus slayne Erles and barons came hym to And the quene dyde also And asked what he was ye wote he sayd all the cas Why that I am in sorowe this houre Hor Rycharde that stronge traytoure He hath wrought me so moche woo And I ne may hym to deth doo Therfore I wyll at this sake Raunsom for his body take For my doughter that is I shente Ayenst the estate of sacramente Of euery chyrche that prestes in synge And matyns synge and belles rynge There that two chalys be That one shall be brought to me Yf there be more than two The halfe dele shall come me to Whan I am serued of that fe Than shall Rycharde delyuered be And my doughter for her outrage Shall for goo her herytage Thus he sayd it shall be do The barons graunted all therto Kynge Rycharde they after sente For to here theyr ordaynemente Whan he came in to the hall He grete the kynge and his men all The kynge sayd verament We haue loked your Iugement That thou shalte paye raunsones For the and for thy barones Of euery chyrche in thy londe Thou shalte do come to my honde There that two chalys in be That one shall be brought to me And yf there be more than two The halfe dele shall be brought me to Thorugh thy londe wyte it wele I wyll haue the halfe dele And whan thou haste made thy paye I gyue the leue to wende thy waye And my doughter with the also That agayne I se her neuer mo Kynge Rycharde sayd as thou hast tolde To that forwarde I me holde Kynge Rycharde curteys and hende Sayd who shall for my raunsom wende To Englonde to my chauncelere That my raunsom payed were Who that it dooth without fayle I shall hym quyte for his trauayle Vp there sterte an hende knyght Thy message I wyll do full ryght The kynge dyde a letter wryte A good clerke dyde it endyte And made there in mencyon Lesse and more of that raunson Grete well as I you saye Myne archebysshoppes twaye And so ye do my chauncelere To serue this letter in all manere For no thynge that they ne fayle Sykerly it shall them auayle His seale theron he hath set The knyght it toke without let He dyght hym and made hym yare In to Englonde for to fare Whan he was ouer the se brought To go his way forgate he nought To London he yede anone There he founde them euerychone He toke the letter as I you saye To the archebysshoppes twaye And bad them to do it rede For it is sente for grete nede The chaunceler the seale brake Soone they wyste what it spake The letter was rede amonge them all What therof sholde befall How kynge Rycharde with treason In almayne dwelled for raunson The kynges sone he hath slayne And his douhhter eke forlayne And also slayne his lyone All these armes hath he done They made clerkes for to wende To euery chyrche fayre and hende Hastely that it were spedde And the treasour to hym ledde Messenger now sayd he Thou shalte dwell and haue with the Fyue bysshoppes to ryde the by And fyue barons sykerly And other folke ynough with the In vs no defaute shall be Of euery chyrche lesse and more They gadered that treasore And ouer the see they wente For to make that fayre presente And whan they came the cyte to The kynge there they founde tho And sayd as they were bethought Syr thy raunsom is hyther brought Take it all at your wyll Let go these men as it is skyll The kynge sayd I gyue them leue I shall them no more greue And toke his doughter by the honde And bad her swythe voyde the londe The quene sawe what wolde fall Her doughter to her she gan call And sayd thou shalte dwell with me Tyll Rycharde sende after the As a kynge dooth after his quene Thus I rede that it bene Kynge Rycharde and his feres twaye To Englonde toke theyr waye Now they be come to Englonde Blessyd be Ihesu crystes sonde He wente to London to that cyte His erles and his barons fre Thanked god of his good grace That theyr kynge was in that place His two feres wente ryght soone home Theyr frendes were glad that they come They bathed theyr bodyes that were sore For trauayll that they had had before Thus they dwelled halfe a yere Amonge theyr frendes of grete powere Tyll they were able for to stonde The kynge commaunded thorugh the londe At London to make a parlyament Of his comyns and lordes gent As they wolde saue theyr lyfe Or theyr chyldren or theyr wyfe To London to his sommon Came bysshoppes erles & many a baron Abbottes pryours knyghtes & squyers Burgeyses and many bachelers All the best of his londe The kynges heste to vnderstonde Before that tyme the grete countre That was before the grekes see Acrys and surrey and many londes Were in crysten mennes hondes And the countre of Bedleem And also Iherusalem And Nazareth and Ieryco And all Galyce therto Euery palmer and pylgryme That wolde theder go that tyme Myght passe with good entente Without raunsom or ony rente Other of syluer or of golde To euery stede where they wolde Founde he no man to myssayne Neyther no hondes on hym layne Of surrey londe the duke myllon Was lorde in that stounde a bolde baron Maugre the sowdan the londe he helde And kepte it well with spere and shelde He and the doughty erle Reynawte Full ofte gaue hym harde assawte And full ofte in batayll Slewe his knyghtes and pewtayll Of sarasynes that mysbyleued The sowdan therof was agreued Now harken of a treason stronge Of the erle Roys was them amonge To whome the duke myllon trust mekle And he was a traytour false and fekle The sowdan styll to hym sente And he asked hym londes and rente The crysten hoost to betraye Who he hath wonne hym to paye Of golde many a thousande pounde And he graunted hym that stounde Another traytour Markes feraunt He wyste also of that couenaunt And after his crystendome forsoke And to the deuyll hym betoke And thorugh treason of the erle Roys Surrey was lorne and the holy croys The dukes rewarde was hewe smale All to peces sayth our tale The duke myllon was full lyfe He fledde out of the londe with his wyfe He was erle of surrey londe Kynge bawdewyns sone I vnderstonde That no man wyste neuer sythe Where he became ne in what kythe So this losse and this pyte Spronge in to all crystente An holy pope that hyght Vrban Sente to all crystendome than And assoyled them of theyr synne And gaue them paradyse to wynne All that wyll theder gone To wreke Ihesu of his fone The kynge of fraunce without fayle Theder wente with moche vytayle The duke of bloys the duke of burgon The duke of estryche the duke of fusson And also the Emperour of almayne And many good knyghtes of brytayne The erle of flaunders the erle of babelyne The erle of arteys the erle of Colyne Moche folke wente theder before That nygh had theyr lyues lore With grete warre and honger harde As ye may here afterwarde In haruest after the natyuyte Kynge Rycharde with grete solempnyte At westmynster he helde a noble feste With bysshoppes and barons honeste Abbottes pryours and swynes stronge After mete yede them amonge Kynge Rycharde stode vp and gan sayne My selfe frendes wyll you sayne Be in pease and harken vnto my tale Erles barons grete and smale Bysshops abbotte lewde and lerned All crystendome may be afered The pope Vrban hath vs sente By bull and by commaundement How the sowdan hath fyght begon The towne of Acrys is I won Thorugh the erle Roys trechery All the kyngdome of surry Iherusalem and the crosse is lorne And bedleem there Ihesu was borne Crysten knyghtes be hanged and drawe The sarasynes hath them all slawe Crysten men wyfe and grome Therfore my lorde pope of Rome Is sore agreued and anoyed That crystendome is so dystroyed All crystendome he hath sente and bod And byddeth them in the name of god To wende theder with grete hoost For to fell the sarasynes boost Wherfore I haue mente To wende theder with swerdes dente To wynne the crosse and gete the lose Frendes what is your purpose Wyll ye wende saye ye or nay Erle baron knyght and all that may They sayd we ben at one accorde With the to wende Rycharde our lorde Quod Rycharde frendes gramercy It is our honour lysteneth why The kynge of fraunce is wente forth Ryden este and weste south and north Thorugh Englonde we wyll do crye And make a playne treasourye Moche folke the crosse haue nome And to kynge Rycharde ben come On horse and on fote well apparaylled Thre hondred shyppes well vytaylled Hawberkes swerdes and knyues Thyrty shyppes laden benlyues Of tembre grete and sheldes longe He let make a toure stronge That queynte engyners made Therwith thre shyppes were lade Another shyppe was laden yet With a gynne that hyght robynet With Rycharde a mangenell With all the takell that therto fell Whan they were dyght and yare Out of the heuen for to fare Ihesu them sente wynde so goode To bere them ouer the salte flood Kynge Rycharde sayd to his shypmen Frendes do as I you ken And mayster Alyn trenchmere Where that ye come ferre and nere And ye mete by the see stronde Shyppes of ony other londe Crysten men on lyue and lymme Loke that ye no good benymme And yf ye the sarasyns mete Loke on lyue that ye none lete Catell dormonde or galaye Also I gyue it to your praye But at the cyte of maryle There ye must abyde a whyle By cable and auncker there to ryde Me and myn hoost there to abyde For I and my knyghtes and eke swayne Wyll wende thorugh out all almayne To speke with Medarde the kynge To wote why and for what thynge That he me in his pryson helde And but he my treasour agayne yelde That he toke of me with falsshede I shall acquyte hym his mede Now thynketh Rycharde as I wene Or he fether goth auenged to bene Thus kynge Rycharde as ye may here Became goddes palmere Ayenst his enemys The archebysshop syr bawdemys Before wente with knyghtes fyue By bourdes and by constantyue At the last there afterwarde Came the doughty kynge Rychrde Kynge Rycharde called his Iustyse Lo ye do at my deuyse My londe kepe with skyll and lawe Traytours loke ye hange and drawe In my stede shall ye be here The bysshop of Yorke my chauncelere I wyll it be at his wyll To werke after ryght and skyll That I here after here no stryfe As ye wyll saue my lyfe And in name of god almyght I bydde you rule the poore a ryght There they helde vp theyr honde With ryght to rule all Englonde The bysshop them gaue his blessynge And bad for them in chyrche to synge And prayed Ihesu cryste hym spede In heuen to quyte hym his mede Thre hoostes kynge Rycharde let make To hethenesse for goddes sake In the formest warde he wolde be With hardy men of grete poste That other ledeth Fouke doly Thomas the thyrde certaynly And euery hoost gan with hym lede Fourty thousande good at nede None therin but men of myght That were proude in warre to fyght Whan they were passed the se Sone he deled his hoost in thre For he wolde not the folke anoye Ne theyr goodes not dystroye Ne no thynge take without paye The kynge commaunded also I saye Euery hoost from other ten myle Thus he ordeyned that wyle In the myddell hym to ryde And his hoostes abothe syde Forth he wente with gladde chere Thorugh londes ferre and nere Tyll they came without ensoyne Vnto the cyte of coloyne The hygh mayre of that cyte Commaunded as I tell the That no man sholde sell hym vytayle For no thynge that myght auayle The stewarde tolde Rycharde the kynge Soone anone of that tydynge That he ne myght no vytayle bye Neyther for loue ne for monye Thus defended Medarde the kynge For he the hateth ouer all thynge And well he woteth that ye haue swore All that ye take for to paye fore Ye wyll take with no maystry Therfore he weneth sykerly That ye ne shall haue mete none Thus he weneth thy men to stone Kynge Rycharde sayd also hym thought That he ne shall lette vs nought Stewarde I commaunde the Bye vs vessell grete plente Dysshes cuppes and sawcers Bolles trowes and platters Fattes cowles and costrelles Make our mete without les Whether ye wyll sethe or bake brede And to poore men so god you rede That ye fynde in all the towne That they come to mete at my sommowne Whan the mete was dressed and dyght The kynge commaunded to a knyght After the meyre for to wende And other barons good and hende Anone they were to the borde set And fayre seruyce before them fet Kynge Rycharde asked in hyenge Syr meyre where is thy lorde the kynge Syr he sayd at gonorye Sykerly without lye And also my lady the quene The thyrde daye ye shall them sene And margery his doughter fre That of thy comynge blythe wyll be They wysshe as it is lawe in lande A menssenger there came dryuande Vpon a stede whyte as mylke All I trapped in tuly sylke With fyue hondred belles ryngynge He came full merly syngynge And downe of his stede he alyght And grette kynge Rycharde aplyght The kynges doughter that is so fre She the greteth well by me With an hondred knyghtes and mo She cometh or ye to bedde go Kynge Rycharde sayd hyenge She is welcome ouer all thynge He made at ease the messengere With glad semblaunt and mery chere And gaue hym a clothe of golde For he was with his lady withholde They came to hym that same nyght The knyghtes and that lady bryght Whan kynge Rycharde myght herse Welcome lemman than sayd he Eyther other began to kysse And made moche Ioye and blysse There they lefte tyll it was daye On the morowe they wente theyr waye And at myddaye before the none They came before a cyte ryght soone The name was hyght marburent There the kynge Rycharde moost lent Soone his stewarde came hym to Syr he sayd how shall we do Suche vytayll as I bought yesterday For no golde gete it I ne may Kynge Rycharde sayd with herte fre Of fruyte here is grete plente Fygges and reysyns in frayle And nuttes may serue vs rather than fayle And wexe somdele cast therto Talowe and grece I meddled also And thus ye may our mete make Sythe that we may none other take There they dwelled all that nyght On the morowe to wende as it was ryght Vnto the cyte of carpentras There kynge Medarde hym selfe was For there myght he hym flee nought Thorugh the londe he had hym sought The kynge wyste Rycharde was come Well he wende to ben I none And in pryson ay to be But yf my doughter helpe me She came to hym there he sat What now fader what is that Certes doughter I gete blame But thou me helpe I gete shame Certes syr she sayd than As I am gentylwoman Yf ye wyll be mylde of mode Kynge Rycharde shall do you but good But graunte me with good wyll That he wyll saye to fulfyll And you in his mercy dothe And he you kysse shall without othe And also my lady the quene Good frendes shall ye bene She toke her fader and with hym yede To kynge Rycharde as I you rede And eke erles and barons mo And fyfty knyghtes eke also Kynge Rycharde sawe how that he came Fayre ayenst hym the waye he name Kynge Medarde on knees hym sette And kynge Rycharde there he grette And sayd I am at thy wyll Quod Rycharde I wyll nought but skyll But so thou yelde agayne my tresore I shall the loue euer more Loue the and be thy frende Quod kynge Medarde my sone hende I shall the swere vpon a boke Redy is that I of the toke And yf thou wylte moche more Of myne owne tresore I wyll the gyue my peas to make Kynge Rycharde gan hym in armes take And kyste hym many tymes sythe They were frendes and made blythe That euery daye kynge Medarde Ere with kynge Rycharde And after mete soone and swythe Kynge Rycharde spake with chere blythe To the kynge that sate hym by Welcome be ye sykerly Syr for loue I praye the Of thy helpe to wende with me To hethenes without fayle For goddes loue to gyue batayle The kynge graunted all in gryth And all his realme to wende hym with And my selfe syr therto Naye quod Rycharde I wyll not so Thou arte to olde to beker in fyght I praye the that thou me dyght An hondred knyghtes styffe to stonde Of the best in thy londe For a yere that it be done And of vytayll redy wone And squyers that fall them to The kynge graunted that to do Another thynge I shall the gyue That may the helpe whyle thou lyue Two ryche rynges of golde The stones therin ben full olde Fro hens to the londe of ynde Better shalte thou none fynde For who that hath that one stone Water ne shall hym drowne none That other stone who so it hathe Fyre ne shall hym do no skathe

¶ How the kynge of fraunce betrayed kynge Rycharde . QVod kynge Rycharde syr gramercy His knyghtes were all redy Sergeauntes of armes and squyers Stedes I charged and destrers With armes and with other vytayle Kynge Rycharde wente forth with his apparayle Towarde marcell he gan ryde With his hoost on eyther syde Fouke doly and Thomas of multon With erles dukes & many a bolde baron Rychardes mayster Roberte of leycester In Englonde was none his better And also syr Roberte of turname Moche englysshe people with hym came And redy they founde theyr flete Charged with armure drynke and mete They shypped armure man and stede And other store folke to fede They shypped all by the see stronde To wende in to the holy londe The wynde was bothe good and kene And droue them ouer in to messene Before the gates of the gryffons Kynge Rycharde pyght his pauylyons The kynge of fraunce there he founde In pauylyons square and rounde And eyther of them kyste other And became sworne brother To wende in to the holy londe To wreke Ihesu I vnderstonde A treason thought the kynge of fraunce To do kynge Rycharde dystaunce To kynge Tanker he sente a wrytte That tourned hym to lytell wytte The kynge Rycharde with strength of honde Wolde hym haue dryuen out of his londe Tanker kynge of puyle was For this wryte he sayd alas He sente anone his messenger To his sone that hyght Roger That was kynge of Cysyle londe He sholde come to his honde And sente after his barownes Erles and lordes of renownes And whan they were comen euerychone The kynge sayd to them anone And tolde how the kynge of fraunce Had hym warned of a dystaunce Kynge Roger spake fyrste aboue And smote peas with his gloue Mercy my fader at this tyme Kynge Rycharde is a pylgryme And crossed in to the holy londe That wryte lyeth I vnderstonde I dare for kynge Rycharde swere That he neuer thought you to fere But sende to hym a messengere That he come vnto you here He wyll come to you full soone And his thought he wyll tell you anone The kynge was glad of that counsayle And sente after hym without fayle On the morowe he came to hym Iwys In to the ryche cyte of thys And founde kynge Tanker in his hall Amonge his erles and barons all Eyther gret te other in fayre maner With mylde wordes and deboner Than sayd Tanker to kynge Rycharde Lo syr kynge by saynt Leonarde It is done me for to wytte Of a frende here ryght well wrytte That thou arte come with grete powere For to reue me of my londes here Thou were fayre to be a pylgrym For to slee many a paynym Than for to greue a crysten kynge That neuer the mysdyde no thynge Kynge Rycharde was sore asshamed And also of his wordes agramd And sayd Tanker thou arte mystought For to haue this in thy thought And suche a rage on me to bere That I the sholde with armes dere Suche a treason on me to touche And on my flesshe I bere the crouche I ne wyll dwell here but a daye To morowe I wyll wende my waye And I praye the syr Tanker kynge Procure me none euyll thynge For many men weneth to greue other And on his heed falleth the fother For who so wayteth me despyte Hym selse shall nought passe quyte Syr quod Tanker be not wrothe for this Lo here are the letter forsothe Iwys That the kynge of fraunce me sente That other daye in presente K●nge Rycharde sawe & vnderstode The kynge of fraunce wolde hym no gode Kynge Rycharde and kynge Tanker kyste And were frendes with the beste That myght be in ony londe I loued be Ihesu crystes sonde Kynge Rycharde wente agayne well styll And suffred the frensshe kynges wyll He vndyde his tresore And bought hym bestes to his store He let bothe salte and slene Thre thousande of oxen and kene Swyne and shepe so many also No man coude tell tho And of fysshe foules and venyson I ne can nought acccount in ryght reason The kynge of fraunce without wene Laye in the cyte of messene And kynge Rycharde without the wall Vnder the house of the hospytall The englysshe men wente to shyppynge And ofte hente harde knockynge The frensshe and gryffons downe ryghtes Slewe there our englysshe knyghtes Kynke Rycharde herde of that dystaunce And playned to the kynge of fraunce And he answered he had no wardes Of the englysshe taylardes Chase thy gryffons yf thou myght For of my men getest thou no ryght Quod kynge Rycharde syth it is so I wote well what I haue to do I shall me of them so a wreke That all the worlde therof shall speke Crystmasse is a tyme full honeste Kynge Rycharde it honoured with grete faste All his clerkes and barons Were set in theyr pauylyons And serued with grete plente Of mete and drynke and eche deynte Than came there a knyght in grete haste Vnneth he myght drawe his blaste He fell on knees and thus he sayd Mercy Rycharde for Mary mayde With the frensshe men and the gryffownes My brother lyeth slayne in the townes And with hym lyeth slayne fyftene Of thy knyghtes good and kene This daye and yesterdaye I tolde arowe That syxe and thyrty they had I slowe Faste lesseth your englysshe hepe Good syr take good kepe A wreke vs syr manly Or we shall hastely Flee peryll I vnderstonde And tourne agayne to englonde Kynge Rycharde was wrothe & eger of mode And began to stare as he were wode The table with his fote he smote That it wente on the erth fote hote And swore he wolde be awreked in haste He wolde not wende for crystes faste The hygh daye of crystmasse They gan them arme more and lasse Before wente kynge Rycharde The erle of salysbury afterwarde That was called by that daye Syr Wyllyam the longe spaye The erle of leysestre the erle of herdforde Fulll comly folowed they theyr lorde Erles barons and squyers Bowmen and arblasteres With kynge Rycharde they gan reke Of frensshe and gryffons to be awreke The folke of that cyte aspyed rathe That englysshe men wolde do them skathe They shette hastely the gate With barres that they founde therate And swythe they ranne on the wall And shotte with bowe and spryngall And called our men saunce fayle Awaye dogges with your tayle For all your boost and your orguyle Men shall threste in your cuyle Thus they mysdyde and myssayde All that daye kynge Rycharde they trayde Our kynge that daye for no nede In batayll myght no thynge spede On a nyght kynge Rycharde & his barons Wente to theyr pauylyous Who that slepte or who that woke That nyght kynge Rycharde no rest toke On the morowe he of sente his counseyllers Of the portes the mayster maryners Lordynges he sayd ye ben with me Your counseyll ought for to be pryue All we sholde vs venge fonde With queyntyse and with strength of honde Of frensshe and of gryffons That haue dyspysed our nacyons I haue a castell I vnderstonde Is made of tembre of Englonde With syxe stages full of tourelles Well flourysshed with cornelles Therin I and many a knyght Ayenst the frensshe shall take the fyght That castell shall haue a sory nom It shall hyght the mate gryffon Maryners arme your shyppes And do vp your manshyppes By the water halfe ye them assayle And we wyll by londe saunce fayle For come ye neuer to me Tyll I of them a wreked be Therto men myght here crye Helpe god and saynt Mary The maryners gan to hye Bothe with shyppe and with galye Syth ore spredde and sayle also Towarde them they gan go The knyghtes framed the tre castyll Before the cyte vpon an hyll All this sawe the kynge fraunce And sayd haue ye no doutaunce Of all these englysshe cowardes For they ne be but losardes But reyse vp your mangenell And caste to theyr tre castell And shote to them with arblast The tayled dogges for to agast Now harken of Rycharde our kynge How he let bere in the dawnynge Terges and hardes his folke all Ryght before the cyte wall His hoost he let at ones crye Men myght it here in the skye Now let come the frensshe losardes And gyue batayll to the taylardes ye frensshe men them armed all And ranne on fast vpon the wall And began the englysshe for to assayle There began a stronge batayle The englysshe shotte with arblast & bowe Frensshe and gryffons felde and slowe The galeys came vnto the cyte And had nygh wonne entre And harde myned vnder the wall That many gryffons gan downe fall With hoked arowes and eke quarelles Helde them out of the tourelles And brake bothe legges and armes And eke theyr neckes it was none harmes The frensshe men came to the stoure And caste wylde fyre out of the toure Wherwith I wote forsothe Iwys They brente and slewe many englysshe And the englysshe men defended them welee With good swerdes of browne stele And slewe of them so grete chepes That there laye moche folke on hepes And at the londe gate kynge Rycharde Helde his assawte lyke harde And so manly he toke one He lefte of his men neuer one He loked besyde and sawe houe A knyght that tolde hym with a gloue Kynge Rycharde and he hym tolde Tales in Englysshe stoute and bolde A lorde he sayd I aspye now ryght A thynge that maketh myn herte lyght Here he sayd is a gate one That hath warde ryght none The folke is gone to the water toure For to do them theyr socoure And there we may without dente Entre in now verament Blyche therof was kynge Rycharde Stoutly he wente thederwarde Many a knyght doughty of dede After prycked vpon theyr stede Kynge Rycharde entred without drede Hym folowed full grete ferhede His baner vpon the wall he pulte Many a gryffon it byhulte As greyhoundes stryken out of lese Kynge Ryeharde threste amonge the prese Seuen chaynes with his good swerde Our kynge for carfe a mydwarde That were drawen for grete doute Within the gates and without Porcules and gates vp he wan And lette come in euery man Men myght se by strete and lane Frensshe and gryffons gaue bane And some to horse ran in haste Dores and wyndowes barred faste And euer men bare them vp with leuours And slewe them with grete vygours All that they founde ayenst them stonde Passed thorugh dethes honde They brake cofers and toke tresours Golde and syluer and countours Iewelles stones and spycery All that they founde in tresoury There was none of englylshe blode That he ne had as moche gode As they wolde drawe or bere To shyppe or to pauylyons I swere And euer cryed kynge Rycharde Slee downe euery frensshe cowarde And ken them in bataylles That ye haue no tayles The kynge of fraunce came pryckynge Ayenst Rycharde our kynge And fell on knees downe of his hors And bad mercy for goddes corps For the crowne and for the loue Of Ihesu cryste kynge aboue And for the vyage and for the crose He sholde be in gree and take lose And he wolde haue honde take They sholde amende all the wrake They that had hym or his Ony thynge done amys Kynge Rycharde had grete pyte Of the kynge of fraunce that sat on kene And lyght downe so sayth the boke And in his armes vp hym toke And sayd it sholde be peas styll And yelde the twone all to his wyll And bad hym nought greue hym tho Though he venged hym of his fo That had his good knyghtes quelde And eke on hym despyte I telde The kynge of fraunce gan to preche And bad Rycharde be his soules leche And the tresoure yelde agayne than That he had take of euery man And elles he ne myght in goddes paye To Iherusalem take the waye Kynge Rycharde sayd with theyr tresoure They myght nought amende the dyshonoure And that they haue done me or this And syr also thou dyde amys Whan thou sentest to Tanker the kynge To appayre me with thy lesynge We haue to Iherusalem the waye sworne Who breketh our pylgrymage he is forlorne Or he that maketh ony medlaye Bytwene vs two in this waye Whan abbated was that dystaunce There came two Iustyces of fraunce Vpon two stedes ryde And kynge Rycharde they ganchyde That one was hyght Margaryte That other syr Hewe Impetyte Swythe sore they hym trayde Cleped taylarde and myssayde Kynge Rycharde helde a tronchon tewe And to them two he hym drewe Margaryte he gaue a dente than Aboue the eye vpon the pan The skull brake with that dente The ryght eye flewe out quytemente And he fell downe deed in haste Hewe of Impetyte was a gaste And prycked awaye without fayle And Rycharde was soone at his tayle And gaue hym a stroke on the molde That deed he thought be he sholde Ternes and quernes he gaue hym there And sayd syr thus thou shalte lere To myssaye thy ouerhedlynge Go playne now to your frensshe kynge An archebysshop came full soone He fell on knees and badde a bone Of kynge Rycharde he had his grace That he wolde leue his stryfe in that place And there no more harme do For goddes loue the people to Kynge Rycharde graunted then And drewe to pauylyon all his men To this daye men may here speke How the englysshe were there awreke All the whyle that they were there They myght well bye theyr chafere There was none so hardy a man That one euyll worde spake gan

¶ How thre of kynge Rychardes shyppes were perysshed in the see / and how the emperour put his men in pryson

woodcut of a sea battle

KYnge Rycharde in peas and reste Fro crystmasse the hygh feste Dwelled there tyll after the lente And than on his waye he wente In marche moneth the kynge of fraunce Wente to shyppe without dystaunce Whan he was gone soone afterwarde Came the doughty kynge Rycharde Forth towarde Acrys wende he wolde With moche store of syluer and golde Foure shyppes were charged I fande Towarde Cyprys all saylande Charged with tresour euery dell And soone a sorowfull caas there fell A grete tempest arose sondaynly That lasted fyue dayes sykerly It brake theyr maste and theyr ore And theyr takell lesse and more Anker bothe sprette and rother Ropes cordes one and other And were in poynt to synke a downe As they came ayenst the lymosowne The thre shyppes ryght anone All to brake ayenst the stone All to peces they to tare Vnneth the folke saued ware The maryners vnneth it with helde That shyppe lefte in the shelde For the pryffons with sharpe wordes Some with axes and some with swerdes Grete slaughter of our englysshe maked And spoyled the quycke all naked Syxtene hondred they brought on lyue And in to pryson hondredes fyue And also naked syxty score As they were of theyr moders bore Of the shyppes brekynge they were blythe The Iustyces of Cyprys ran full swythe And drewe vp cofers many folde Full of syluer and of golde Dysshes cuppes broches and rynges Cuppes of golde and ryche thynges No man by south ne by north Ne coude account what it was worth And all was lorne that tresour Wheder that wolde the emperour The thyrde daye afterwarde The wynde came dryuynge kynge Rycharde With all his grete nauyes And his sayiynge galyes To a shyppe that stode in depe The gentylmen therin dyde wepe And whan they sawe Rycharde the kynge Theyr wepynge tourned all to laughynge They welcomed hym with worshyppes And tolde hym the brekynge of theyr shyppes And the robbery of his tresoure And all that other byshonoure Than waxed kynge Rycharde full wrothe And he swore a full grete othe By Ihesu cryste our sauyoure It sholde abye the emperoure He cleped syr Steuen and Wyllyam And also Roberte of turnam Thre gentyll barons of englonde Wyse of speche doughty of honde Now go and saye to the emperoure That he yelde agayne my tresoure Or I swere by saynt Denys I wyll haue thre syth bouble of his And yelde my men out of pryson And for the deed paye raunson Or hasteyl I hym warne I wyll worke hym a harme Bothe with spere and with launce Anone I shall take vengaunce The messengers anone forth wente To do theyr lordes commaundement And hendly sayd theyr message The emperoure began to rage He grunte his tethe and faste blewe A knyfe after syr Roberte he threwe He blente awaye with a lepe And it flewe in a dore a span depe And syth he cryed as vncourteys Out taylardes of my paleys Now go and saye your tayled kynge That I owe hym no thynge I am full gladde of his lore I wyll hym yelde none other answore And he shall fynde me to morowe At the hauen to do hym sorowe And werke hym as moche wrake As his men that I haue take The messengers wente out full swythe Of theyr ascapynge they were blythe The emperours stewarde with honoure Sayd thus vnto the emperoure Syr he sayd thou hast vnryght Thou haddest almoost slayne a knyght That is messenger vnto a kynge The best vnder the sonne shynynge Thou hast thy selfe tresour grete plente Yf thou it withhelde it were grete pyte For he is crossed and pylgrym And all his men that ben with hym Lette hym do his pylgrymage And kepe thy selfe trome domage The eyen twynkled of the emperoure And smyled as an euyll traytoure His knyfe he drewe out of his shethe Therwith to do the stewarde scathe And called hym without fayle And sayd he wolde hym accounsayle The stewarde on knees hym set a downe With the emperour for to rowne And the emperour of euyll truste Carued of his nose by the gruste And sayd traytour thefe stewarde Go playne to englysshe taylarde And yf he come on my londe I shall hym do suche a shonde Hym and all his men quycke flayne But he in haste tourne agayne The stewarde his nose hente Iwys his vysage was I shente Quyckely out of the castellran Leue he ne toke of no man The messengers mercy he cryed For Maryes loue in that tyde They sholde tell to theyr lorde Of the dyshonour ende and worde And haste you agayne to londe And I shall sese in to your houde The keyes of euery toure That oweth that fals emperoure And I shall brynge hym this nyght The emperours doughter bryghe And also an hondred knyghtes Stoute in batayll stronge in fyghtes Ayenst that fals emperoure That hath done vo this dyshonoure The messengers them hyed harde Tyll they came to kynge Rycharde They founde kynge Rycharde playe At the chesse in his galaye The erle of rychemonde with hym played And Rycharde wan all that he layed The messengers tolde all the dyshonour That them dyde the emperour And the despyte he dyde his stewarde In the despyte of kynge Rycharde And the stewarde presentynge His byhest and his helpynge Than answered kynge Rycharde In dede lyon in thought lybarde Of your sawes I am blythe Anone set vs to londe swythe A grete crye arose fote hote Out was shotte many a bote The bowe men and eke the arblasters Armed them at all auenters And shotte quarelles and eke flone As thycke as the hayle stone The folke of the countre gan renne And were fayne to voyde and fleune The barons and good knyghtes After came anone ryghtes With theyr lorde kynge Rycharde That neuer was founde no cowarde

¶ How kynge Rycharde gaue batayll to the emperour / & How the emperour fledde awaye for fere that he had / & there was slayne many of the emperours folke / and after that he wente streyght to Acrys

woodcut of a battle

KYnge Rycharde I vnderstonde Or he wente out of Englonde Let hym make an axe for the nones To breke therwith the sarasyns bones The heed was wrought ryght wele Therin was twenty pounde of stele And whan he came in to Cyprys londe The axe toke in his honde All that he hytte he all to frapped The gryffons awaye faste rapped Neuertheles many one he claued And theyr vnthonkes therby leued And the pryson whan he came to With his axe he smote ryght tho Dores berres and Iren chaynes And delyuered his men out of paynes He let them all delyuer cloth For theyr despyte he was wroth And swore by Ihesu our sauyoure He sholde abye that fals emperoure All the bourgeyses of the towne Kynge Rycharde let slee without raunsowne Theyr tresour and theyr meles He toke to his owne deles Tydynges came to the emperour Kynge Rycharde was in lymasour And had his burgeyses to deth I do No wonder though hym were wo He sente anone without fayle After all his counsayle That they came to hym on hye To wreke hym of his enemye His hoost was come by mydnyght And redy on the morowe for to fyght Herken now of the stewarde He came at nyght to kynge Rycharde And the emperours doughter hym with She grette kynge Rycharde in peas & gryth She fell on knees and gan to wepe And sayd kynge Rycharde god the kepe The stewarde sayd I am shente for the Gentyll lorde awreke thou me The emperours doughter bryght I the betake gentyll knyght The keyes also in batayll here Of euery castell in his powere An hondred knyghtes I you behyght Lo them here redy in all ryght That shall you lede and socoure Ayenst that fals emperoure Thou shalte be bothe lorde and syre Or to morowe of his empyre And swete syr without fayle Yet the behoueth my counsayle I shall the lede by a coost Pryuely vpon his hoost In his pauylyon ye shall hym take Than thynke vpon the moche wrake That he hath done the or this Though ye hym slee no force it is Moche thanked kynge Rycharde Of the counseyll the stewarde And swore by god our sauyoure His nose sholde be bought well soure Ten hondred stedes good and sure Kynge Rycharde let araye in trappure On eueryche lepte an englysshe knyght Well armed in armure bryght And as the stewarde applyght Ladde them by the mone lyght So nygh the emperours pauylywne Of the turmppettes he herde swone It was before the dawynynge The stewarde sayd to Rycharde the kynge Lette se Rycharde assayle yerne The pauylyon with the golden her ne Therin lyeth the emperour Awreke thou this dyshonour Than was Rycharde as fresshe to fyght As euer was foule to the flyght He prycked forth vpon his stede Hym folowed full grete ferrede His axe he helde in honde I drawe Many gryffons he hath I slawe The waytes of that hoost that dyde aspye And full loude began they for to crye We betrayed and I nome Horse and harneys lordes all and some In an euyll tyme our emperour Robbed kynge Rycharde of his tresour For he is here amonge vs And sleeth downe ryght by Ihesus The englysshe knyghtes for the nones All to hewed the gryffons bodyes & bones They smote the cordes and fell downe Of many a ryche pauylyowne And euer cryed squyer and knyght Smyte lay on slee downe ryght yelde the tresour ayenwarde That ye toke from kynge Rycharde ye ben worthy to haue suche mede With many woundes to lye and blede In the emperours pauylyon kynge Rycharde Alyght so dyde the stewarde And the emperour was fledde awaye Hym selfe alone or it was daye Flowen was that fals cowarde Narowe hym sought kynge Rycharde Longe or the daye began to dawe Twenty thousande gryffons were I slawe Of sylke sendell and syclaton Was the emperours pauylyon In the worlde neuer none syche Ne by moche thynge so ryche Kynge Rycharde wan the grete worshyp And bad they sholde be lad to shyp Suche at Acrys was there none founde Pauylyons of so moche mounde Cuppes of golde grete and smale He wan there without tale Many cofers small and grete He founde there full I bere Two stedes founde the kynge Rycharde That one hygh fauell and that other lyarde In the worlde was not theyr pere Dromedary nor destrere Stede rabyte ne camayle That ran so swyfte without fayle For a thousande pounde I tolde Sholde not that one be solde All that his men before had lore Seuen double they had therfore Tydynges to the emperour was come That his doughter was I nome And how that his hygh stewarde Her had delyuered to kynge Rycharde By that he wyste well I I wys That he had done amys Two messengers he clyped anone And bad them to kynge Rycharde gone And saye your emperour and your kynge That I hym sende goddes gretynge Homage by yere I wyll hym gyue & yelde And all my londe I wyll of hym helde So that he wyll for charyte In peas here after leue me The messengers anone forth wente And sayd theyr lordes commaundemente Kynge Rycharde answered therto I graunte well that it be so Go and sayd your emperour That he dyde grete dyshonour Whan he robbed pylgrymes That were goynge to the paynymes Let hym yelde me my tresour euery dele Yf he wyll be my specyele And all that saye your emperour That he amende that dyshonour That he dyde to his stewarde In despyte of kynge Rycharde And that he come erly to morowe And crye me mercy with sorowe Homage by yere me to bere And elles by my crowne I swere He shall not haue a fote of londe Neuer more but of my honde The messengers by one accorde Tolde this the emperour theyr lorde Than the emperour was full wo That he this dyde sholde do To kynge Rycharde he came on the morowe In his herte he had moche sorowe He sell on knees so sayth the boke Kynge Rycharde by bothe the fete he toke And cryed mercy with good entent And he forgaue hym his maltalent Fewte he dyde hym and homage Before all his baronage That daye they were at one accorde And in same dyde ete at one borde Grete solace and moche playe Togyder they were all that daye And whan it drewe towarde the eue The emperour toke his leue And wente towarde his hostell In herte hym was nothynge well He helde hym selfe a foule cowarde That he dyde homage to kynge Rycharde And thought how he hym awreke myght Forth he rode anone ryght To a cyte that hyght boffenent He came by daye verament There he founde many a grete syre The rychest men of his empyre To them playned the emperour Of the shame and of the dyshonour That hym dyde kynge Rycharde Thorugh the helpe of his stewarde Vp there stode a noble barowne Ryche of castell and of towne The stewardes eme he was That the emperour had shente his fas Syr he sayd thou arte mystaught Thou arte all aboute naught Without encheson and Iugement Thy good stewarde thou haste I shent That sholde as he well couthe Vs haue holpe and saued nouthe Thorugh thy wyll malycyous Ryght so thou woldest serue vs And I saye the wordes bolde With suche a lorde kepe I not holde To fyght ayenst Rycharde the kynge The best vnder the sonne shynynge Ne none of all my baronage Ne shall the neuer do homage All the other sayd at one worde That Rycharde was theyr kynde lorde And the emperour for his vylanye Was well worthy for to abye The emperour sawe and vnderstode His barons wolde hym no gode To another towne he wente & helde hym thare In his herte he had moche care That same tyme the hygh stewarde Counseylled with kynge Rycharde He sayd that hym forthought sore That the emperour was so forlore They sought hym in all wyse And founde hym in a cyte of pryse And certaynly kynge Rycharde Wolde no loue to hym warde For he had broken his treuth Of hym had he no reuth But let a sergeaunt hym bynde His hondes soone hym behynde And caste hym in to a galey And ledde hym in to surrey And swore by Ihesu that made mone & sterre Ayenst the sarasynes he sholde lerne to werre Whan all this warre abated was Kynge Rycharde set that londe in peas The elre of leycestre full truly Thorugh counseyll of his barony He made hym stewarde of that londe To kepe his realme to his honde Grete feest they helde afterwarde His shyppes let dyght kynge Rycharde Forth towarde Acrys he wolde With moche store of syluer and golde With two hondred shyppes I fynde Saylynge forwarde with the wynde And afterwarde fyfty galyes For to warde his nauyes And as the doughty kynge Rycharde Came saylynge to Acrys warde And had sayled with wynde at wyll Ten dayes fayre and styll The alleuenth daye they sayled in tempest That nyght ne daye had they no rest And as they were in auenture They a sawe dromonde without mesure The dromonde was so heuy of fraught Vnneth myght it sayle aught He was towarde the sarasynes Charged with corne and with wynes With wylde fyre and other vytayle Kynge Rycharde them sawe without fayle He bad one haast trenchmere And in a galey to wende them nere And axe whens that they were And what they haue in chafere Alyn quyckly and men I nowe To the dromonde gan rowe And asked whens they were And what they had in chafere Aborde stode vp theyr latemere And answered alyn trenchemere With the kynge of fraunce we be saunce fayle Frome poyle we brynge this vytayle A moneth we haue lyen in the see Towarde Acrys now wende we Wynde vp sayle quod alyn trenchemere And sayle we forth the wynde is clere Nay syr he sayd also I fynde We must nedes come behynde For we be so heuy I fraught Vnneth may we sayle naught Than sayd alyn soone anone I ne here of you speke but one But stonde ye vp all in fere That we myght mo of you here And knowe your token after than For we wyll not leue one man Certes quod the latemere With no mo spekest thou here They were to nyght in grete tempest And now they lye and take theyr rest Certes quod trenchemere alayne To kynge Rycharde than wyll I sayne That ye be all sarasynes Charged with golde and with wynes The sarasynes sterte vp all prest And sayd felowe go do thy best For kynge Rycharde and his galyes We wyll not gyue two flyes The trenchemere began to rowe harde Tyll he came to kynge Rycharde And swore to hym by saynt Ihone It were sarasynes euerychone That sayd our kynge of grete reuowne That hyght Rycharde cure de lyowne Of your sawes I am blythe Let eche man arme them swythe Stere thou thy galey trenchemere I wyll assayle that pantenere With myn axe I wyll them assayle Of sarasynes I wyll not fayle Anone his axe was to hym brought His other armes forgate he nought To hym came maryners I nowe Kynge Rycharde bad them fast rowe Now rowe on fast and who is faynte In euyll water mote he be draynte They rowed faste and layde to And songe heuenhowe rombylo The galey yede as fast As quarelles out of arblast And as the dromonde with the wynde A galey came saylynge behynde And smote hym swythe fast That the sterne all to brast The sarasynes were armed wele Bothe in Iren and in stele And stode aborde and fought harde Ayenst the doughty kynge Rycharde Kynge Rycharde and his knyghtes Slewe the sarasynes downe ryghtes And they began to wroke them wo Alwaye there stode vp mo and mo And rapped on them for the nones Stronge strokes for with harde stones Out of the toppe castell on hye That neuer was Rycharde his deth so nye Than came seuen galeys behynde To that dormonde faste saylynde Tho stode aborde baron and knyght To helpe kynge Rycharde for to fyght A stronge batayll there began then Bytwene them and the hethen men With swerdes speres and dartes kene Flones quarelles flewe bytwene As thycke without ony stynte As hayle after thunder dynte And in the bekerynge that was so harde In to the dromonde came kynge Rycharde Whan he was therin with grete haste He dressed his backe to the maste With his axe all that he raught Hastely the deth they caught Some he hytte on the bassyn That they all claue to the chyn And some to the gyrdell stede And some the to shyppes brede Some on the necke so hytte he That they flewe in ro these For none armure withstode his axe No more than a knyfe doth the waxe The sarasynes as I you tell Sayd he was the deuyll of hell And ouer borde than lepte they And drowned them selfe I you sey Syxtene hondred there were quelde But thyrty sarasynes he at helde That they sholde bere wytnes Of that batayll at Acrys Kynge Rycharde founde therin faunce fayle Moche store and grete vytayle Many bartelles of fyre gregeys And many a thousande of bowes turkeys Hoked arowes and quarelles He founde there full many barelles And of whete grete plente Golde and syluer and eche deynte Of the tresour had he nought the mounde That in the dormonde was founde For it was drowned in the flode Or halfe vncharged was the gode Auaunced had ben all crystente Had the dormonde passed the see And came to Acrys from kynge Rycharde An hondred wynter there afterwarde For all the crysten men vnder the sonne Ne had not Acrys ben I wonne And thus kynge Rycharde wan the dormonde Thorugh goddes helpe and saynt Edmonde

¶ How kynge Rycharde cutte a two a grete chayne / & how an archebysshop tolde hym the sorowe that they had suffre afore .

woodcut of several people outside city walls

KYnge Rycharde after anone ryght Towarde Acrys gan hym dyght And as he sayled towarde surrye He was warned of a spye How the folke of the hethen lawe A grete chayne they had I drawe Ouer the hauen of Acrys fers Was fastened to two pyllers That no shyppe sholde in wynne Ne tho out that were there in Therfore seuen yere and more All crysten kynges laye thore And with hongre suffre payne For lettynge of that same chayne Whan kynge Rycharde herde that tydynge For Ioye his herte beg●n to sprynge And swore and sayd in his thought All that ne sholde them kepe nought Aswyfte stronge galey he toke Trenchemere so sayth the boke And stered the galey ryght euen All mydwarde the hauen Were the maryners neuer so wrothe He made them rowe and sayle bothe The galey yede as swyfte As ony foule by the lyfte And kynge Rycharde that was so good With his axe afore the shyppe stode And whan he came to the chayne With his axe he smote it atwayne That all the barons verament Sayd it was a noble dente And for Ioye of that dede The cuppes faste aboute yede With good wyne pyment and clare And sayled towarde Acrys cyre Kynge Rycharde out of his galye Let cast wylde fyre in to the skye And the fyrst grekes in to the se All on a fyre were the His trumppettes yede in his galye Men myght it here in to the skye Trompettes hornes and shalmyse The see brente all of fyre grekes Gynnes he had of wonder wyse Mangenelles of grete quyentyse Arblast bowe made with gynne The holy londe therwith to wynne Ouer all other vtterly He had a myle of grete maystry In the myddes of a shyppe to stonde Suche ne sawe they neuer in no londe Foure sayles were therto all newe Yelowe and grene rede and blewe With canuas I layde all aboute Full costly within and without And all within full of fyre Of torches made of wexe clere Ouerthwarte and endlonge With spryngelles of fyre they dyde honde Grounde they neyther corne ne good But robbed as they were wood Out of theyr eyen came rede blode Before the trough one there stode That all in blode was begone Suche another was neuer none And hornes he had vpon his hede The sarasynes of hym had grete drede For the robbynge of the stones They wende it had ben mennes bones For it was within the nyght They were agrysed of that syght And sayd he was the deuyll of hell That was come them to quell A lytell before the lyght of the daye Clenly they were done awaye Kynge Rycharde after the meruayle Wente quyckly to londe faunce fayle The kynge of fraunce ayenst hym came And in his harneys he hym name Rycharde kyssed hym with grete honour So dyde euery kynge and emperour All the kynges of crystente That had there longe be And longe had layne in dolour Vnderfonde Rycharde with honour An archebysshop of grete pryse Dyde kynge Rycharde his seruyce And syth ledde hym as ye may se In to a pauylyon of preuyte And tolde hym there a dolefull tale Of a shrewde many and fale Now he sayd kynge Rycharde I here This syege hath lasted seuen yere It may not be let for thy Moche sorowe haue we suffred sykerly For he had no castell That vs of ony warde fell But a wyde dyche and a depe We made vs within to kepe With barbycanes for the nones Hye I wrought with harde stones Whan the dyche was I made Salandyn the sowdan was glade And came on vs with grete route And beset vs all aboute And with hym markys feraunt That lyueth on mahowne and termagaunt He was a crysten kynge some whyle He hath done vs more shame & gyle Than the sowdan and his hoost The fader and sone and holy goost Graunte hym grace of worldes shame Markys feraunt by his name Our fyrst batayll sekerly That was stronge and deedly Well fought our crysten knyghtes And slewe the sarasynes downe ryghtes Our crysten had the maystry The sarasynes fledde with sory crye We slewe many of them tho And they of vs many also I shall tell you of what case To many a man it fell alas As we dyde sarasynes to dede It befell a noble stede Out raged fro a paynym The crysten fast folowed hym The sarasynes sawe where we came And fledde asyde all than And came ayenst vs with stronge fyght And slewe many a crysten knyght And there we lost or we wyste The best bodyes vnder cryste The erle feres of Englonde There was neuer doughtyer of honde And the emperour of almayne And Ianyn the erle of spayne Twelue thousande of our meyne There was slayne with grete pyte Therof was the sowdan glade On the morowe a newe sawte he made And he let take all the cors Bothe of deed men and of hors And cast them in to our well Vs to poyson and to quell Dyde he neuer a worse dede To crysten men for no nede For that poyson and that brethe Fourty thousande toke theyr dethe Soone after it was not to hyde The thyrde case vs gan betyde A shyppe came saylynge on the see Charged with whete grete plente And wylde fyre and armure bryght To helpe the sarasynes to fyght Our crysten toke the rede saunce fayle That they wolde the shyppe assayle And so we dyde to our domage The wynde blewe fast with grete rage The sarasynes drewe vp theyr sayle And ouersayled vs without fayle There we lost fourty score That hath vs greued swythe sore On saynt Iames euyn verament The sarasynes out of Acrys went And pyght pauylyons grete and wynde For to haue begyled vs that tyde Our crysten men were wyght Erle baron squyer and knyght Sawe the sarasynes had ryches And we of all good desires We thought to wyn to our pay Of that tresour yf that we may Fyfty thousande them armed wele Bothe in Iron and in stele And wente forth to batayllynge The sarasynes sawe theyr comynge And fledde asyde swythe faste And our meyne came after in haste And gan ryde with grete randon Tyll they came to theyr pauylyon They founde there felowe rede Tho we wende they fledde for drede We founde therin brede and wyne Golde and syluer and bawdekyne Vessell of syluer ouppes of golde More than we take wolde Some stode some sate downe And ete and dranke grete foysowne After mete pauylyons newe Were with swerdes all to hewe And charged horses with vytayle As nyse men sholde without fayle Golde and syluer they put in males And bounde them faste with gyrdelles Whan eche man had his charge Home ehey wente with spere and targe The sarasynes sawe theyr wendynge And came after faste slyngynge At shorte wordes a grete route Had beset vs all aboute Soone the male were downe caste Ayenst the sarasynes they fought faste There we loste thousandes fyftene Noble men hardy and kene This greued vs ryght sore For we wende all to be lore But god almyghty heuen kynge He sente vs soone socourynge The doughty erle of champayne And good knyghtes of brytayne And randulfe the gamyles Iohan neuell and his brother myles And Bawdewyne a clerke full mery The archebysshop of Caunterbury And with them came his neuewe A noble baron of grete vertewe Roberte gaunter of englonde Ayenst the sarasynes for to stonde And many knyghtes of hongery And other noble cheuallery Than helde we a grete batayle But a harde case befell vs without fayle At myghelmasse it must be tolde The weder began to wexe colde Tho fell bothe rayne and hayle And snowe fyue fote witdout fayle Thonder lyghtnynge & weder toughe For honger therwith our men it sloughe For honger we lost and colde wyndes Of our solke thre score thousandes Than we our good hors slowe Soden and eten the guttes towe The flesshe was deled for grete deynte Therof had no man plente But we ete it without brede To peces we carued the hede In water we boyled the blode That vs thought mete full gode A quarter of whete men vs solde For thre pounde of floraunce tolde For fourty pounde men solde an axe Though it were but lytell I waxe A swyne for an hondred floryne A gose for halfe a marke of golde fyne And for an henne to syke thynges Men gaue fyue shelynges And for an egge pens alleuen And for a pere syxe or seuen For an appell men gaue pens syxe And thus our folke vnblythe wyxe And dyed for honger and for wo The ryche men toke to rede tho Aryche dole for to dyght To barons and to many a poore knyght Twelue pens men eueryche And syxe to poore that were not ryche And foure to euery small wyght Thus the ryche the poore dyght Therwith the more and the lasse Bought them flesshe of horse and asse They myght none other thynge gete They thought it full good mete I haue the tolde kynge Rycharde here Of our folke theyr lere And the domage of Acrys hoost But blessyd be the holy goost And Mary that bare Ihesus That thou arte amonge vs Thorugh thy helpe I hope well The sarasynes downe to fell

¶ How kynge Rycharde wan the cyte of Acrys .

woodcut of knights attacking a city

KYnge Rycharde wepte with his eyen bothe And syth sayd he thus forsothe Syr bysshop I beseche you praye for vs That vs myght sende swete Ihesus His fone all for to dystroye That they no more vs anoye Thus Rycharde toke loue & keped his stede And prycked out that felowrede He rode aboute the close dyche Towarde Acrys sykerlyche Tyll he came co the hospytale Of saynt Iohan as I tell by tale There he let pytche his pauylyon And let arere vp his matgryffon That was a tree castell fyne To gyue assawte to many a sarasyne That he myght in to Acrys sene He had .xiii. shyppes full of bene Whan the castell was framed well He lette therin a mangenell He commaunded his men blyue To fetche vp been hyue And byd taberrars & trompettes blowe To sawte the cyte on a throwe Kynge Rycharde in Acyrs cyte Let cast the hyues grete plente The wheder was hote in somer tyde The beest brake out on euery syde They were agreued full of grame And dyde the sarasynes moche shame For they stynged them in the vysage That they began for to rage And hydde them in a depe sellere For they durste not come them nere They sawe kynge Rycharde was full fell Whan his flyen bytte so well Another vp Rycharde gan set That was cleped Robynet A stronge gynne for the nones That cast in to Acrys grete stones The kynge Rycharde the conquerour Cleped to hym anone his mynour And them mynde in to the toure That is cleped mawndytcoloure He sware his othe by his crowne But it were brought downe By none the vttermest wall He sholde be hewen in peces small The mynours myned faste And gonners bente and stones caste The syrasynes began to arme them all And ranne in haast vnto the wall In whyte shetes they gan them wrythen For bytynge of kynge Rychardes flyen They sayd this man doth vs grete payne For he doth bothe throwe and mayne We sawe neuer kynge thus begynne It is grete doute leste he vs wynne Kynge Rycharde stode in his matgryffowne And sawe there dedes in the towne Whederwarde the sarasynes drewe And arowes englysshe to them slewe Out of arblastes arowes smerte Thorugh lunge leuer arme & herte The frensshe men with grete noblay Helped to myne full well that daye The vttermost wall that daye was downe cast And many sarasynes slayue at last That daye Rycharde so well spedde thore That he was holden for a conquerore For better he spedde that daye or none Than all the other in seuen yere had done The sarasynes myght not endoure They fledde in to that hye toure They lyght torches aboute the wall Men myght se it ouer all The torches caste grete lyght That betokened a newe fyght That was come fro Englonde There thorugh they myght not stonde But yf Salandyn the sowdan Came to them with men anone Salandyn was ten myle then And sawe the torches lyght bren He let gader his folke togyder As thycke as snowe falleth in wynter They assembled vpon a playne Besyde Acrys vpon a mountayne Syxty thousande men I fynde Cockes of heye he made them bynde To go before hastelyche To fyll the crysten dyche To rescowe Acrys they haue rede And to do the crysten men to dede After came barons and knyghtes Stronge in armes stoute in fyghtes By order they came in theyr manere Of rede sendell was theyr banere With thre gryffons depaynted well And of asure a fayre bendell Soone after there came as many mo Barons rydynge and knyghtes also Theyr gomfanon and theyr pensell Was wrought of good sendell As he faught with a lyon And in surrey with a dragon The fyrst were rede and grene Than came the thyrde by dene With syxty thousande knyghtes In ynde I armed to all ryghtes After came whyte as ony snowe Fyfty thousande on a rowe There amonge was Salandyn And his neuewe myrry molendyn Theyr baners whyte without fable With thre sarasynes hedes of sable That were shapen noble and large Of balyn bothe shelde and targe No man coude tell the route They beset the crysten aboute The fore men cast theyr cothes of heye To make the hors men redy weye And fylled the dyche full vpryght That all the hoost well entred myght The sarasynes had entred nye But god almyghty therto sye The crye arose thorugh the crysten hoost Soyes seygnyours for the holy goost But we haue the better socoure We be forlorne by saynt sauyoure There ye myght se many a wyght man That quyckly to his armure ran And wente anone in to the dyche And defended it hastelyche There was many a gentyll hewed Quykly from the body take the hewed Sheldes fell clouen a two And many a stede stycked also Many a knyght lost his harnes And many a stede drewe theyr tharnes And many a doughty man saunce fayle Was slayne in that batayle But Rycharde our kynge was seke tho All crystendome to moche wo He myght not his body stere Though his pauylyon had ben in fyre Therfore the kynge of fraunce made a crye Amonge the crysten company That they ne sholde for dethes doute Not passe theyr close dyche aboute But holde them all within That the sarasynes sholde them not wyn And tho that were in I come Of sarasynes they were I nome And hastely done to dede For them yede no raunson to mede Whyle kynge Rycharde so syke lay The reason I you tell may For the trauayll of these And stronge ayre of that countre And for vnkynde stynke and hete And mete and drynke was not swete To his body that he there fonde As it was in englonde Kynge Rycharde his men bad seche For some wyse clerke and certayne leche Crysten or elles sarasyne For to loke his bryne And eueryche sayd his aduyse But there was none of them wyse That myght his sorowe sese Or of his payne hym relese Sory was the folke englysshe For theyr lorde laye in grete anguysshe For kynge Rycharde laye so sore syke All aboute they gan seke On knees prayed the crysten hoost To the fader and sone and holy goost Nyght and daye with good entent That Rycharde myght haue amendement Thorugh the byddynge of our lady dere Her blessyd sone herde her prayere Thorugh his grace and vertue He tourned out of his ague To mete had he no sauour To wyne ne water ne to no lycour But after porke he was a longed Though all his men sholde be honged They ne myght in that countree Neyther for golde nor for fee No porke fynde take ne gete That kynge Rycharde myght ete A noble knyght was with our kynge Whan he wyst of that tydynge That Rychardes maners were syche To the stewarde he sayd pryuelyche Our lorde lyeth sore seke I I wys After porke he alonged is And ye ne may none fynde to sell No man be so hardy to tell And yf he do he may dye Ye must as I you saye That he knowe not of that Take a sarasyne yonge and fat And in haste that deed be slawe And his heed of hym be fawe And soben full hastely With good pouder and spycery And with good saffron of good colour Whan kynge Rycharde feleth the sauour Out of the ague yf he be wente He shall haue therto good talente Whan he hath therof a taste And eten a good repaste And supped of the brothe a sope And slepe therafter and swete a drope Thorugh goddes helpe and my counsayle Soone he shall be hole without fayle The sothe to saye at wordes fewe Slayne and soden was that shrewe Before Rycharde it was brought Quod his folke we haue porke sought Aryse and suppe of the brothe sote Thorugh goddes myght it shall be bote Before the kynge kerued a knyght He ete faster than he kerue myght Kynge Rycharde knewe the fiesshe fro the bones And dranke ryght well after for the nones And whan he had eten I nowe He laye styll and drewe in his arme His chamberlayne couered hym warme He laye and slepte and swette a stounde Soone he became hole and sounde Whan he awoke he arose And romed aboute in the close And all the folke hym shewed Glad was bothe lerned and lewed And thanked Ihesu and Mary That he was out of his malady The sarasynes spedde with all theyr myght The dyche to wynne with all theyr myght The barbycanes they felde downe And had nygh entred and in I come Whan kynge Rycharde that tydynges herde As a wdde man tho he sterre ferde And he armed hym in his armour For loue of cryst our sauyour To fyght I haue grete delyte With houndes that wylleth vs despyte Now I me fele hole and lyght This daye shall I preue my myght Yf I am stronge as I was before And yf I can dele strokes grete store All that I mete I shall fele Suche a dose I shall them dele That for the loue of theyr mahon They shall haue theyr waryson He was armed to all ryghtes With hym his fote men squyers & knyghtes And the crysten all by dene Wonder it was that hoost to sene The sothe to saye and not to lye Of sarasynes were twyes so manye Before wente his templers His gascoynes and his ospytalers Our kynge amonge the sarasynes rode To some he gaue full grete lode A kynge he hyt aboue the shelde That helme & heed flowe in the felde Another he hath a stroke I raught All his harneys halpe hym naught To the sadyll he clefte the ferth All that he smote it wente to erth Blythe was the crysten fela wrede Of kynge Rycharde and of his dede For none armure withstode his axe No more than a knyfe doth the waxe Whan the sowdan sawe them so stronge He sayd the deuyll was them amonge For downe ryght there he slewe With all his hoost he hym withdrewe And fledde with all his baronage In to towne men call it cage And certes all the rerewarde Were slayne by kynge Rycharde The sarasynes that in Acrys ware Were anoyed and full of care Whan they sawe the sowdan flee And kynge Rycharde downe ryght slee Thus all daye tyll it was nyght They and the crysten kepte fyght At euen whan the sonne was set Euery man drewe to his reset The crysten bothe poore and ryche Wente within theyr close dyche To reste them for they were wery And kynge Rycharde let make a crye Trusty folke that myght the pales kepe Whyle that other lye and slepe The sarasynes that were withoute Of kynge Rycharde they had grete doute For he had the pryse I wonne Awaye they rode and swythe ronne That myght flee and them hyde There they durste not abyde Of the space of ten englysshe myle Whan Rycharde had rested a whyle A knyght his harneys gan vnlace Hym to comforte and to solace Hym was brought a soppe in wyne The heed of the wylde swyne He sayd fayne I wolde I had For I am feble feynt and mad Of myn euyll I am fere Therwith serue me at my soupere Quod the coke the heed I ne haue Than sayd Rycharde so god me saue But I se the heed of the swyne Forsoth thou shalte soone lese thyne The coke sawe none other myght be He fet the heed and let hym se He fell on knees and made a crye Lo the heed here Rycharde mercy The blacke vysage whan Rycharde sawe His blacke berde his tethe whyte as snawe He began to laugh as he were wood What is sarasynes flesshe so good And neuer before I it wyste By goddes deth and his vpryste Shall we neuer dye for defaute Whyle we may in assawte Slee sarasynes and the flesshe take Wesshe sethe them and bake Gnawe the flesshe fro the bones Now I haue assayed them ones For honger or we be to woo I and my folke shall ete moo On the morowe without fayle The cyte he began to assayle The sarasynes myght not endoure They fledde in to the hye toure And cryed trews and plement To kynge Rycharde that was so gent And also to the kynge of fraunce And bad mercy without dystaunce Anone stode vp syr latemere And cryed lowde with voyce clere He sayd here good lordynges For I you brynge good tydynges That syr Salandyn sente by me He wolde that Acrys yelded be And Iherusalem in to your honde And surrey all the londe To flomiordan the water clere For two thousande besauntes by yere And yf ye wyll not so nore Ye shall haue peas for euermore So that ye make the kynge of surrye Markys feraunt of grete maystrye For he is the strongest man Iwys Of crystendome or of hethenys Than answered kynge Rycharde Thou lyeth he sayd false cowarde In euery gaderynge a prese Markys is a false traytour and a lese He hath whyted Salandynes honde To be kynge of surrey londe And by the kynge in trynyte That traytour shall it neuer be He was crysten by my faders dayes And syth he hath renyed his layes And is become a sarasyne God gyue hym well euyll pyne He is worse than an hounde He robbed syxty thousande pounde Out of the holy hospytallers honde That my fader sente in to this londe That men cleped kynge Harry Crysten men to gouerne by I byd hym hye out of this hoost For I swere by the holy goost And by Mary that bare Ihesus Fynd : I that traytour amonge vs Other by nyght or by daye With horse he shall be drawe I saye Than answered the kynge of fraunce To kynge Rycharde without dystaunce O suffre syr beus amys Thou doost wronge by saynt denys That thou thretenest that markys That neuer dyde the amys Yf he haue done ony thynge yll He shall amende it at thy wyll I am his borowe so here my gloue Receyue it for my loue Nay quod Rycharde by god my lorde I shall neuer with hym accorde Had neuer ben lost Acrys towne Ne had ben thorugh his tresowne He yelde agayne my faders tresone And Iherusalem with grete honour And than my wrathe I hym forgyue And neuer elles whyle I lyue The kynge of fraunce was wo therfore And he ne durst speke no more For euer he douted dentes harde To vnderfonge of kynge Rycharde Whan the latemere herde this That kynge myght not be syr markys He sayd here good lordynges For I haue brought you other tydynges That moche more is to your wyll Yf ye wyll let our people passe styll With lyfe and lymbe honde and arme Without dente and without harme We shall yelde you the towne And the holy crosse with grete renowne And syxty thousande prysoners therto And an hondred thousande besauntes & mo And haue ye shall also therin Ryche tresour and moche wyne Helmes hawberkes syxty thousande & mo And other ryches ye may fynde also Where I nowe and other tresore For your hoost seuen yere and more And yf that ye wyll not th●s fonge We may holde you out longe And euer to fynde one of our For to slee ten of your For we haue without fable Syxty thousande men defensable And we beseche you for the loue of god That ye wyll take your bode That ye the tresour more and lasse And let vs quykly awaye passe Than answered kynge Rycharde In my halfe I graunte that forwarde With that ye wyll vs quykly in late It shall be done they sayd by yate They let hym in soone anone And kynge Rycharde toke them euerychone And to pryson put them thore yonge and olde lesse and more There myght none out of Acrys towne Tyll payed was that raunsowne And the holy crosse therwith Or they must haue peas and gryth There was founde many hordes That was departed amonge lordes Stryfe there was at theyr comynge But the best tresour had our kynge The crysten prysoners of Acrys towne Kynge Rycharde gaue clothe grete foysowne Mete and drynke and armes bryght And made them full fresshe in fyght And toke them to his partyse To auenge god of his enemyse Kynge Rycharde in Acrys had nome Of sarasynes that theder were come That were goddes enemyse Hardy knyghtes of grete pryse Of hethenes of grete lordynges Dukes prynces sones of kynges And admyralles and many a noble man Theyr names I ne tell can In pryson they lay bounde faste To the sowdan they sente in haste And sayd we bere so many chaynes And these men done vs so many paynes We may neyther syt nor lye But ye vs out of pryson bye And with raunsom helpe and borowe We shall dye or the thyrde morowe The ryche sowdan was wo therfor Knyghtes prynces well two score Many an admyrall and many a lorde Sayd we rede that ye make accorde With kynge Rycharde that is stronge To delyuer our chyldren out of wronge That they ne be hanged ne drawe Of tresour Rycharde wyll be full fawe That our chyldren may come home all Charge mewles horses by your counsall Of bryght golde and of bawdkyne For our eyres to make fyne Men saye englysshe men loue gyftes Of golde well thyrty mennes lyftes Were layde on mewles and on rabyte Thyrty erles clothed in samyte That were well auysed of tonge To kynge Rycharde that tresour bronge All to Acrys they it brought On knees of grace they besought Our sowdan sendeth the this tresore And wyll be thy frende euer more For the prysoners that thou hast nyme And let them go with lyfe and lyme Out of thy pryson thou them lete That no man slee them ne bete For all they ben doughty vassalles Kynges sones and admyralles The best doynge at this tyme That now ben in all sarasyne And our hoost moost strusteth to And Salandyn loueth them also Not for a thousande pounde of golde None of them he lese wolde Kynge Rycharde spake wordes mylde That golde to take cryste me shylde Amonge you parte euery dele I charge For I brought in shyppes and in barge More golde and syluer with me Than your lorde and suche thre Of his trelour I haue no nede But for my loue I you bede To mete with me that ye dwell And afterwarde I shall you tell Thorugh counseyll I shall gyue answere What worde ye shall to your lorde bere They graunted hym with good wyll Kynge Rycharde cleped his marysshall styll And toke hym to counseyll alone I shall the tell what thou shalte done Pryuely go vnto the prysowne Take the sarasynes of grete renowne And tho that ben of rychest kyn Pryuely slee them therin And or the hedes be of smyten Loke euery name be wryten Vpon a score of parchemyn Than bere the hedes to the kechyn In to a caudron let them be caste And byd the coke sethe them faste And loke that he the here of stryppe Of heed and berde and of lyppe Whan we be set and sholde ete Loke that ye not forgete Serue them in this maner To lye euery heed in a platter And brynge them forth in your honde The vysage vpwarde the tethe greuonde And loke they be no thynge rawe His name fastened aboute the brawe What he hyght and of what kyn I bore And an hote heed brynge me before As I were well apayed withall Faste therof ete I shall As it were of tender chyke For to se how the sarasynes it lyke The marysshall so sayth our geste Anone dyde kynge Rychardes heste Anone the waytes to mete blewe The messengers no thynge knewe Of Rychardes lawe ne of his custome Quod he frendes ye be welcome To them he was well compenable They were set at hye table Salte was set but no brede Neyther wyne whyte nor rede The sarasynes gan faste stare And thought how shall we fare Kynge Rycharde was set on the dese With dukes erles proude in prese Fro kechyn came the fyrste course With trumppettes pypes and tabours The stewarde to well good yeme To serue kynge Rycharde well to queme Leste after mete tyde ony harme A sarasynes heed anone all warme He brought to kynge Rycharde not cleuede The name I wryten on the forhede Alwaye an heed bytwene two The messengers were serued tho In the foreheed wryten the name Therof they had all grame But whan the names they seen The teres ran out of theyr eyen Whan they the letters radde For to be slayne they were adradde Kynge Rycharde his eyen to them drewe And sawe how they chaunged hewe For theyr frendes they syghed sore That they had lost for euermore Of theyr kynne and blode they were Tho that myght euyll forbere Made well sory chere And rewed the tyme that they came there Kynge Rycharde behelde them well How that they ete no morcell The knyght that sholde Rycharde serue With a knyfe he gan the heed carue Kynge Rycharde ete with herte good The sarasynes wende that he were wood Eucryche sate styll and plucked other And sayd this is the deuylles brother That sleeth our men and thus eteth But kynge Rycharde not forgeteth Aboute hym he loked yerne With wrothe semblaunt and with sterne The messengers tho he badde For my loue be you gladde And loke ye be well at ease set Why kerue ye not of your mete And ete faste as I do Tell me why ye loure so The messengers sore quoke They ne durst speke ne loke In to the erthe they wolde haue cropen For to haue ben slayne they hopen They answered hym neuer a worde Quod Rycharde bere fro the borde The mete that ye before them set And other mete ye them fet Men brought brede without boost Venyson cranes and roost Pyment clare and drynke of the best Kynge Rycharde bad be mery his gest There was none of them that ete lyste Kynge Rycharde theyr thought well wyste And sayd frendes be not squemous This is the maner of my hous To be serued fyrst god it wote With a sarasynes heed all hote But your maner not I knewe As I am a kynge crysten and trewe But ye shall be in certayne All safe to wende home agayne For I ne wolde for no thynge That worde of me sholde sprynge That I were so vylayne of maners For to mysdo messengers Tho they had eten and cloth folde Kynge Rycharde gan them to beholde On knees they asked leue to gone That on message theder come I dare well saye by saynt Iohn They had leuer haue ben at home With wyfe chylde and theyr kynde Than all the good that was in ynde Kynge Rycharde spake to an olde man Wende home and tell thy sowdan His malyncoly that he abbate And also saye ye come to late To slowly was the message gessed Or that ye came the flesshe was dressed That men sholde therwith serue me Thus at none and all my meyne And saye hym it shall not auayle Ayenst vs to gyue batayle Brede wyne flesshe fysshe and kunger We wyll neuer dye for hunger Whyle that we may wende to fyght And slee the sarasynes downe ryght Wasshe the flesshe sethe and brethyn With one sarasyne I may well fedyn Well an nyne or an ten Of my good englysshe men Kynge Rycharde sayd I you wraunt There is no flesshe so nouryssaunt To none englysshe crysten man Partryche heron fesaunt neswan Cowe ne oxe shepe ne swyne Than is the slesshe of a sarasyne For they ben bothe fat and tender And my men lene and sclender But whyle that ony sarasynes be Alyue in this countree For mete wyll we not care Aboute shall we faste fare And euery daye we wyll ete As many as we may gete In to Englonde wyll we not gone Tyll they be eten euerychone The messengers home dyde tourne Before the sowdan they dyde mourne The elder knyght tolde the sowdan That kynge Rycharde was a noble man And sayd lorde I the warne In the worlde is none so sterne On knees we tolde hym our tale But it vs ne auayled no gale Of our golde wolde he none He sware he had better wone Of ryche tresour than hast thou To vs sayd I gyue it you Tresour golde cloth of pall Parte it amonge you all To mete badde vs abyde We were set at a borde hym besyde That stode Rychardes table nygh But none of vs before hym sygh No brede whyte ne soure But salte and none other lycoure What mese fyrst before hym came Well I behelde the seruyse than A knyght brought fro the kechyn An heed soden of a sarasyn Without here in a platter brode His name before his heed stode Was wryten aboute his eyen Me nedeth not for to lyen What heed it was my felawe dyde aske It was the sowdan sone of damaske And lorde as we sete in fere We were I serued in manere Euer an heed bytwene twaye Forsothe than wende we to dye There came bytwene my felowe & me The kynges sone of rube His of peres that sate me by The thyrde was of samary The fourth was of aufryke For sorowe tho gan we syke Our hertes tho brake nye asonder Lorde yet mayst thou here mo wonder Before kynge Rycharde a knyght in haste Carued hym of the heed and he ete faste With his tethe he grynded flesshe harde And as a wood man tho he farde With his eyen stepe and grym He spake and we behelde hym He sayd we sholde go safe and quyte For no man shall do you dyspyte He the sendeth redy answere Or that we myght come there Men of our kynde were I slawe And gyneth not though thou ware drawe And hyde thy store frome his hoost For he sayth his men make theyr boost That he ne shall let one a lyue In all his londe chylde ne wyue But slee all that he may fynde Sethe the flesshe & with tethe grynde Hunger shall them none ayle In to englonde wyll they not sayle Tyll they haue made playne warke His clothes of golde and his sarke Salandyn rent tho with Ire Kynges prynces and many a syre Sayd alas that they were borne For now we be all forlorne For they were wyght men and stronge Well alwaye we lyue to longe Alas that we thus be begone Now that Rycharde hath Acrys wonne He hath ment yf he go forth To wynne eest west south and north And ete our chyldren and vs Lorde Salandyn what redest thou vs Sende to hym and beseche them efte For them that ben on lyue lefte To let them go yf that he wolde Gyue hym suche for he wyll no golde Ryche medes for the nones Of good perles and precyous stones Charged full many a cofer Yf that he wyll than hym profer For to forsake Ihesu and Mary Thou whyte hym gyue londe a grete party To be in peas and let be warre Syth he is come so farre Thou wylte not that he his trauayll lese Graunte hym selfe to come and chese Tho londes that hym lyketh beste And make hym sowdan after heste After thy selfe and rycheste kynge Conferme it hym and his ofsprynge And yf it be that he wyll so Swythe in peas he come the to And thou shalte forgyue hym thy malatent Though he haue thy folke shent And as thy broder thou loue and kyse In warre to be bolde and wyse Of all the worlde to wynne the pryse And so shall ye leue and be frendes With Ioye to your lyues endes Salandyn by his sergeauntes Sente kynge Rycharde his presauntes And be sought hym for shame That he hath to estage tame And yf he wolde his god forsake And mahowne to his lorde take Of surrey he wyll make the kynge And of egypte that ryche thynge Of darres and of babyloyne Of arres and of susoyne Of aufryke and of vogye Of all the londes of alyxsaundrye Of grece and eke of tyre And of many an other empyre And make he wyll the sowdan anone Of all ynde to prester Iohan Kynge Rycharde answered the messengers Fye on you foule losengers You and Salandyn your lorde The deuyll you hange with a corde Go swythe and saye Salandyne That he make to morowe a fyne For all his dogges in hostage Or they shall dye on euyll rage And yf I may haue a fewe yere Of all the londes that ye reken here I shall not leue halfe a fote So god do my foule bote I wyll not leue my lordes lawe Of all the londes vnder heuen ahawe And but I haue the rode to morowe His men shall dye with sorowe They answered at the forme They wyste not where it was become Quod kynge Rycharde syth it is so I wote well what I haue to do Your sowdan is not so slye So queyntly to blere myn eye He cleped his knyghtes anone And bad them to Acrys gone And take of sarasynes syxty thousandes And knytte behynde them theyr hondes And lede them out of the cyte And smyte of theyr hedes without pyte And saye I shall teche Salandyn To praye me to lyue on oppolyn They were brought out of the towne Saue twenty he helde at raunsowne They were brought in to a place euen Than harde Rycharde an aungell of heuen That sayd seygnyours tues tues Spare them nought behede all these Kynge Rycharde herde the aungelles voys● He thanked god and the holy croyse They were beheded hastelyche And I caste in to a dyche Thus kynge Rycharde wan Acrys God graunte vs all his swete blys His doughty dedes who wyll here Lysten now to me with good chere

¶ Yet of an other batayll / and how kynge Rycharde wan it / & also wan the cyte of arsour . IT was before saynt Iames tyde Whan the foules began to chyde Kynge Rycharde wente forth a pace Towarde the cyte of cayface Euer forth by the maryne By the ryuer of chaylyne Salandyn that herde tell And came pryckynge after snell

woodcut of a battle With syxty thousande sarasynes stronge And thought to do the crysten wronge He ouertoke the rerewarde And there began a batayll harde Hastely swerdes they drewe And many a crysten they slewe Vnarmed was the rerewarde And fledde in haast to kynge Rycharde Whan kynge Rycharde herde this That the sarasynes slewe men of his On fauell of sypres he sate falowe That was swyfte as ony swalowe The kynges baner was on felde The sarasynes theron behelde Whan they the baner myght see All they began for to flee Kynge Rycharde after gan ryde And they tourned at that tyde And smote togyder with grete randowne As the worlde sholde fall downe Kynge Rycharde before smote With his axe that bytter bote He them to hewed and to carfe Many a sarasyn vnder his honde starfe And many one I tell you syker Hente theyr dethe in that beker Thorugh a carte of Hoberte ganter That was set in the myre The carter lost his honde ryght There was slayne many a knyght For that harneys kepte men fourty And therof was slayne thyrty For Salandynes sones theder came And the harneys them bename Kynge Rycharde hyed hym thederwarde To rescowe his rerewarde Yet almoost he came to late And that was sene therate In honde he helde his axe good Many a sarasyn he let blode There was none armure verament That mygh withstonde his dente And the longe spaye that tyde Faught ryght well on euery syde That downe it wente all that he smot● With his swerde that bytter bote And the batayll was doutous And to our men full peryllous For the hete was so stronge And the dust rose them amonge And haue set the crysten honde That they fell deed on the sonde Mo dyed for here at shorte wordes Than for dente of spere and swerdes Kynge Rycharde was almoost arteynt And in the pouder well nygh adreynt Vpon his knees he gan downe fall Helpe of Ihesu he gan for to call For loue of his moder marye And as I fynde in his storye He sawe come saynt George the knyght Vpon a stede was good and lyght In armes that were whyte as floure With a crosse of reed coloure All that he mette in that stounde Hors and man he felde to grounde Anone the wynde gan wexe lyght And sterne strokes he gan dyght Whan kynge Rycharde sawe that syght In his herte he wexed good and lyght And egerly as a lyon without fayle The sarasynes he began to assayle And than braundys the lumbarde Roberte turnam and kynge Rycharde All tho that ayenst them gan dryue Soone they berefte them theyr lyue The sarasynes fledde to reseth To the mount of Nazareth They were so hyed at the spore That moche of theyr folke they lore And kynge Rycharde wente a pace Vnto the cyte of cayface And thanked the kynge of glorye Of that grace and of that vyctorye And all they made grete solace For the wynnynge of cayface Now as this was a gracyous dede Lysten now how I shall you rede Soone on the morowe he let crye That all his hoost sholde hye Towarde the cyte of palestyne Euer forth by the maryne Theyr pauylyons gan they tell And to longe there dyde they dwell For to abyde theyr vytayle That came by water saunce fayle Certes that was the worste dwellynge That euer dwelled Rycharde our kynge Therwhyles the sowdan Salandyne Sente after many a sarasyne To bete downe the castell That was cleped meruell And the castell calafyn That was made of good engyn Of sezary they felde the wall And toure of arsoure all Iaffe castell they bette a downe And the good castell torowne Castell pylgrym they felde there And the good castell laffere The castell of saynt George derayne They bette downe and made all playne The walles they felde of Iherusalem And eke the walles of Bedlem Maydens castell they let stonde And the castell of aukes londe By tho costes no more they let For Rycharde sholde haue no reset And whan they had thus I do Kynge Rycharde they sente vnto And sayd they wolde the nexte morowe Mete hym in the felde with sorowe The sowdan sayd he wolde to hym redy Yf he durste hym abyde Vnder the forest of arsoure He wolde assayle his valoure Kynge Rycharde made it not tough Of that tydynges full loude he lough Kynge Rycharde let crye in his hoost In the name of the holy goost That they sholde with vygoure Reste that nyght in arsoure And dyght them all redy than On the morowe to fyght with the sowdan On saynt Maryes euen the natyuyte Thus same batayll sholde be There was many an hethen man That with the Salandyn came than Ofynde of perse of babyloyne Of araby and of susoyne Of aufryke and of voyge Of all the londe of alysaundre Of grete grece and of tyre Of many an other ryche empyre Of mo londes than ony man can tell Saue he that made bothe heuen and hell That nyght was Rycharde before arsoure Vnder the forest of lysoure With hym there were of Englonde Wyght knyghtes doughty of honde Moche frensshe folke and templers Gascoynes and eke hospytalers Of pronaunce a fayre company Of poyle and of lumbardy Of gene of sysyle and of costan There was many a doughty man Of estryche and of almayne That well coude fyght in a playne Of crysten knyghtes that were hende The fayres hoost to the worldes ende And ye shall here as it is wryten How that the batayll was I smyten Salandyn came by a mountayne And ouerspradde hyll and playne Syxty thousande sayd the spye Came in the fyrste company With longe speres and hye stedes Of golde and syluer was theyr wedes Fyfty thousande came afterwarde Of sarasynes stoute and harde With many a pensell and sylklatowne And of sendell bryght and browne After came fyue and fyfty thousonde With Salandyn on stedes rounde They came armed from fote to hede In full good harnes as I rede Thre thousande turkoys came at the last With bowe turkeys and arblast A thousande tabourers and mo All at ones they smote tho That all the erth quaked vnder There men myght se grete wonder Now speke we of Recharde our kynge How he came with his gynnes to batayllynge He was armed in spentes of stele And sate vpon his good stede fauele Well hym loued baron and knyght For he coude well ordayne a fyght The fyrst batayle to the templers He gaue oute the hospytalers And he bad them go out in goddes name The deuyll to shenshyp and to shame Iakes denys and Iohn denes Before wente in that pres In the worlde there ne were Better knyghtes than they were Forth they prycked full hardyly With knyghtes thousandes twenty And they sarasynes soone they mette With grymly launces they them grette Many a sarasyne had theyr fyn That wente to theyr god appolyn And tho that were slayne of our Wente to Ihesu cryst our sauyour Iakes denys was a good knyght To slee the sarasynes he dyde his myght He prycked before his folke to rathe With his two sones that was skathe Thre thousande turkes come with boost Bytwene Iakes and his hoost There myght no knyght come hym to For no thynge that they myght do Neyther he myght not withdrawe For the people of the hethen lawe It was scathe by Ihesu cryste That kynge Rycharde therof not wyste For he was yet all behynde For to ordeyne twenty thousande Tho sholde the duke of burgoyne Lede and the erle of coloyne Thus they came and dyde theyr deuere Ayenst the hethen pantenere And Iakes and his sones two Almoost were slayne tho They layde on euery syde ryght And slewe the sarasynes with myght Twenty Iakes slewe & eyther of his sones ten Of the crewell hethen men Ten syth his hors was felde And euer he couered hym with his shelde He had no helpe of his templers Nor of none of his hospytalers Neuertheles doughtely he faught The sarasynes yet felde hym naught Well he layde on with sworde And euer he cryed Ihesu lorde I shall dye for thy loue Receyue my soule to heuen aboue The sarasyne layde on with theyr mase And all to frusshed hym in the face Hym and his two sones bothe Kynge Rycharde therfore was wrothe But whan kynge Rycharde herde this That deed was Iakes denys Alas he sayd this is wronge That I haue byd behynde so longe He smote fauell with spores of golde Come after hym who so wolde A launce in his honde he helde Therwith he smote an admyrall in the shelde The dente smote thorugh the hethen harte I vnderstande he gan to smarte Kynge Rycharde his honde withdrewe And with his launce a kynge he slewe And so he dyde an admyrayle And fyue dukes without fayle All that he raught with his launce selue Kynge Rycharde therwith slewe kynges twelue The .xiii. knyght vnto the chynne he kerfe The launce brake the sarasyne sterfe His axe frome the arson he drewe And many a sarasyne therwith he slewe He smote some on the shulder bone And carued them to the sadell anone And some he pared the crowne That they ne helped mahowne There was no armure made with honde That myght Rychardes axe withstonde Of my tale be not awondred The frensshe sayd he slewe an hondred Wherof is made this englysshe sawe Or he rested hym ony thrawe Hym folowed many an englysshe knyght That egerly helped hym to fyght And layde on as they were wode Tyll valeys ranne all on blode The sarasynes sayd in theyr pauylyons That the crysten fared as lyons And that Rycharde with theyr folke fares As hende grehoundes do with hares Vpon theyr stedes tho they lepte Swardes and speres to them they grepte Many a man there slee other And many a sarasyne his brother And many of the hethen houndes With theyr tethe gnewe the groundes And by the blode vpon the gras Men myght se where Rycharde was Brayne and blode he shedde I nowe Many an hors his guttes drowe There was many an emty sadell It bewepte the chylde in the cradell He thought to rescowe Iakes denayne But or he came he was slayne For he and his sones anone Were all to frusshe flesshe and bone Yet had he them to his pauylyowne In despyte of theyr god mahowne Tho fought Rycharde on euery syde The sarasynes durst hym not abyde Syxty thousande and seuen score At ones Rycharde droue hym before Vp ayenst an hye clyue They fledde as dere were dryue And for the drede of kynge Rycharde Of the clefe they fell downe warde And all to brake hors and man That neuer came to lyue ayan That sawe the sowdan Salandyne He was syker his lyfe to tyne He lefte his pauylyon and his tent And fledde awaye verament Than kynge Rycharde sawe hym fleande He sewed after ●aste slyngande To slee the sowdan he had thought And for he myght ouertake hym nought And of a foteman a bowe he toke And drewe it vp to the hoke And shotte it to the sowdan anone And smote hym thorugh the shulder bone Thus the sowdan with doloure Fledde frome the batayll of arsure Syxty thousande there were slawe Sarasynes of the hethen lawe And of crysten but ten score Blessyd be Ihesu cryste therfore Kynge Rycharde toke his pauylyons Of sendell and of sylke latons They were shapen with caruelles Of golde and syluer were theyr penselle● Many was the noble Ieste Was theron paynted of wylde beste Tygres dragons lyons and lybarde And this wonne good kynge Rycharde Bounde in cofers and grete males He gate therwith out tales Florynes besauntes and whyte torneys Sylke samyte and eke sarsyneys Of tresour they had so moche wonne That they ne wyste where it to done Kynge Rycharde with grete honour Wente to the cyte of arsoure And rested hym there all nyght And thanke Ihesu crystes myght On the morowe kynge Rycharde arose His dedes were ryche and his lose Of naples he cleped syr ganter That was his mayster hospytaler And bad hym take with hym knyghtes Stoute in armes stronge in fyghtes And go ye the flede to There the batayll had ben do And lede Iakes the barowne In to Iherusalem towne And bury hym in the erth rychely For he was a man full worthy Anone it was done without cheste Hastely kynge Rychardes heste And thus kynge Rycharde wan arsour God gyue his soule grete honour Fro thens he wente ryght sone Towarde the cyte of babylone

¶ How kynge Rycharde asseyged the cyte of babyloyne and how he wan it / & of two deuylles / that one in lykenes of mare / & that other in lykenes of a colte / wherof the sowdan sente the colte to kynge Rycharde .

woodcut of a knight dying in battle

THe chefe sowdan of hethenys To babyloyne he was flowen Iwys After his counseyll he sente that tyme That theder came many a paynym An hondred thousande that day was telde Of spores of golde in the felde Without all that other putayle That theder came without fayle For so he sayd that was the spye That tolde folke on bothe partye Foure hondred thousande of hethen men To batayll had the sowden Now herken and it be your wyll The wordes that I shall saye you tyll There men loueth trouth and ryght Euer god sendeth strength and myght That was there full well sene Of our crysten men I wene There was no mo in boke I founde In all but foure score thousande Kynge Rycharde .xxx. thousande ladde For Phelyp of fraunce & his men were badd Fyfty thousande ledde he By the one syde of that cyte To kepe with the sarasynes stoute Was none so bolde that durst come out For Rycharde on that other syde laye On batayll redy euery daye With spryngelles and with mangenelles With many arowes and quarelles Faste they slange harde stones Bekerynge with them for the nones There was no sarasyne so stoute That ones the wall durst loke out The cyte was so stronge within That no man myght to them wyn The stronge gynnes for the nones To breke the walles with the stones Theyr gates and theyr barbycan And be ye sure many a hethen man Made them counter harde and stronge And many a man was slayne amonge Of the crysten was many slayne But on the frensshe fell the moost payne For had kynge Phylyp trewe be All the syege of that cyte The●e ne had scaped no man He●hen kynge ne sowdan That ne had be slayne downe ryght For Rycharde euer vpon the nyght Whan they were gone to theyr reste With his men he was full preste And gaue them batayll full smarte That no man myght haue starte And slewe them downe grete plente And wylde fyre they caste in to the cyte The sarasynes defended them faste With bowe turkeys and with arblaste Full harde fyght was them bytwene So they sayd that dyde it sene Quarelles and arowes so thycke dyde flye As doth the rayne that falleth fro the skye And the wylde fyre the folke gan bren A counseyll toke the hethen men To fyght with them vpon the felde They wolde not the cyte yelde Vp stode theyr latemere on the wall And cryed vnto the folke all And asked trues of Rycharde there But he wolde not graunt in no manere And with hym myght he not spede To take trues for no nede Naye certes sayd Rycharde than Tyll I haue slayne the sowdan And all that ben in that cyte The latemere tho tourned his eye To that other syde of the towne And cryed trues with grete sowne To the ryche kynge of fraunce And he graunted with myschaunce For a porcyon of golde And elles had the cyte be yolde And the sarasynes all I slayne But the sowdan was full fayne And all his folke on Rycharde fyll For that other syde was all styll Rycharde wende Phylyp had fought And he and his men dyde nought But made mery all that nyght And were traytours in that fyght For he loued no crownes to crake But to do treason and tresour take The kynge of fraunce to Rycharde sende That they myght them no lenger defende For hunger of hym and his men also He must breke syege and awaye go Full wrothe was kynge Rycharde than And sayd to that cursed false man For couetyse and for tresoure He doth hym selfe dyshonoure That he shall sarasynes respyte gyue It is harme that suche men lyue He brake syege and dyde withdrawe Of tresour and ryches he was fawe Grete Ioye the sarasynes made amonge With claryons trumpettes & mery songe The nexte daye after than Messengers came fro the sowdan And grette kynge Rycharde in this manere And sayd yf thy wyll it were My lorde the sowdan to the sente Yf thou wylte graunte in presente Thou arte stronge of flesshe and bones And he is doughty for the nones Thou dost hym grete harme he sayes And dystroyest all his countrayes And sleest his men and etest amonge All that thou doost is wronge And thou crauest herytage in this londe But he doth the to vnderstonde That thou therto haste no ryght Thou fayest thy god is full of myght Wylte thou graunte with spere and shelde To detreyue the ryght in the felde With helme hauberke and brondes bryght On stronge stedes good and lyght Whether ben of more power Thy god almyghty or Iupyter And he me sente to saye this Yf thou wylte haue an hors of his In all the londes that thou hast gone Suche ne sawest thou neuer none Fauell of sypres ne lyarde of prys Ben not at nede as he is And yf thou wylet this same daye He shall be brought the to assaye Rycharde answered thou sayest well Suche an hors by saynt Myghell I wolde haue to ryde vpon For myn ben wery and forgon And I shall for my lordes loue That sytteth on hye in heuen aboue And his owne hors be good With a spere to shede his blood Yf that he wyll I graunte and holde In that maner that thou hast tolde As I must to god my soule yelde I shall mete hym in the felde Bydde hym sende that hors to me And I shall assaye what he be Yf he be trusty without fayle I kepe none other to me in batayle The messengers tho home wente And tolde the sowdan in presente That Rycharde in the felde wolde come hym to The ryche sowdan badde to come hym vnto A noble clerke that coude well conioure That was a mayster nygromansoure He commaunded as I you tell Thorugh the fendes myght of hell Two stronge fendes of the ayre In lykenes of two stedes fayre Bothe lyke of hewe and here As men sayd that there were No man sawe neuer none syche That one was a mare I lyche That other a colte a noble stede Where that he were in ony mede Were the knyght neuer so bolde Whan the mare nye wolde That sholde hym holde ayenst his wyll But soone he wolde go her tyll And knele downe and souke his dame Therwhyle the sowdan with shame Sholde kynge Rycharde quell All this an aungell gan hym tell That to hym came aboute mydnyght Awake he sayd goddes knyghtes My lorde doth the to vnderstonde That the shall come on hors to londe Fayre it is of body I pyght To betraye the yf the sowdan myght On hym to ryde haue thou no drede For he the helpe shall at nede Purney the a tree grete and stronge Though it be fourty fote longe And trusse it ouerthwarte his mane All that he meteth shall haue theyr bane With that tree he shall downe fell It is a fende as I the tell Ryde on hym in goddes name For he may do the no shame Take a brydell sayd the aungell And make it fast on his mussell And be the brydell in his mouth Ryde eest weste north and south He shall the serue at thy wyll Whan the sowdan shall ryde the tyll Take here a spere heed of stele He hath none armure wrought so wele But it be perysshed be thou bolde Whan the aungell had thus I tolde In to heuen agayne he wente On the morowe the hors was to hym sente Kynge Rycharde of that hors was blythe He let hym dyght a sadell swythe Bothe his arsones were of Iren Bycause they sholde well duren With a chayne togyder faste The brydell vpon the heed he caste As the aungell had hym taught Two good hokes forgate he naught In his arson he set before With waxe he stopped his eres thore And sayd by the apostelles twelue Though thou be the deuyll hym selue Thou shalte me helpe at this nede Now he that on the rode gan blede And suffred grymly woundes fyue And syth he rose from deth to lyue And after wente to hell And the fendes myght gan fell And afterwarde styed in to heuen God for his names seuen One god in persones thre In his name I coniure the That thou me serue at my wyll He shoke his heed and stode styll Kynge Rycharde made hym redy that nyght On the morowe whan it was lyght Seuen sowdans with grete route Of that cyte were sente oute And bataylled them in theyr araye Of grete meruayll I wyll you saye That daye was tolde without lesynge Of sowdans and of hygh kynges There were fourty and mo The leest brought with hym tho Twenty thousande and ten Ayenst our good crysten men And euer was twelue of them Ayenst one of our crysten men Well twelue myle a coost Laye the sarasynes hoost The grounde myght vnneth be sene For bryght armure and speres kene They made sheltron & batayll abyde Messengers bytwene dyde ryde To kynge Phelyp & kynge Rycharde Yf they wolde holde forwarde That they made the daye before The sarasynes ben redy lesse & more Foure hondred thousande there bene Kynge Rycharde gan loke and sene Lyke as snowe lyeth on the mountaynes So were full fylled hylles and playnes With hawberkes bryght & harneys clere Of trumpettes and of tabourere To here the noyse it was grete wonder As the worlde aboue and vnder Sholde haue fallen so fared the sowne Our crysten hoost made them bowne Kynge Rycharde nothynge them a dradde To his folke hors and harnes he gradde He sayd felawes for the rood Loke ye be of comforte good For we gete the pryce this daye Of hethenes all the noblaye For euermore we haue wonne But he that made mone and sonne Bu r helpe and gyue vs myght Beholde how that I shall fyght With swerde spere and axe of stele But I this daye mete hym wele Euer more fro hens forwarde Holde me for a feynt cowarde But euery crysten man and page Haue to nyght to his wage An heed of a blacke sarasyne Thorugh goddes helpe and myne Suche worke I wyll amonge them make Of tho that I may ouertake That fro this tyme to domes daye They shall speke of my paye Euery crysten man was armed wele Bothe in Iren and eke in stele The kynge of fraunce with his batayll Was redy the sarasynes to assayll And aboue the sarasynes they rode Sheltrons pyght and batayll abode And for stopped the londe weyes That they myght not flee the countreyes Neyther no socoure to them come But they were slayne or nome The frensshe men dyde boost make To slee sarasynes and crownes crake But in Iestes as it is tolde There was none of them so bolde To nygh the sarasynes sheltrone Tyll kynge Rycharde was I come Now cometh Rycharde with his hoost And c●●●ed them by an other coost Bytwene them and the cyte That none of them myght flee But they wolde to the ryuer gone Or elles the crysten sholde them slone Than had Rycharde hoostes thre That one gaue assaute to the cyte The seconde with hym he ladde To brynge his hors he badde That the sowdan had hym sente He sayd with his owne presente I shall hym mete longe or nyght He lepte on hors whan it was lyght Or he in his sadell dyde lepe Of many thynges he toke kepe He lacked nought that he ne had His men brought hym that he bad A square tree of fourty fete Before his sadell anone he it sete Faste that they sholde it brase That it fayled for no case And so they dyde with hokes of Iren And good rynges that wolde duren Other fastenynge none there was But Iren chaynes for all that cas And they were wrought full well Bothe his gyrthes and his ptytrell And a queyntyse of the kynges owne Vpon his hors was throwne Before his arson an axe of stele And on that other syde a maswele Hymselfe was rychely begone Frome the creste ryght to the tone He was couered wondersly wele All with splentes of good stele And there aboue an hauberke A shafte he had of trusty werke Vpon his shulder a shelde of stele With thre lyardes depaynted wele And helme he had of ryche entayle Trusty and trewe was his ventayle Vpon his creste a doue whyte Sygnyfyaunce of the holy spyryte Vpon a crosse the doue stode Of golde I wrought ryche and good God hym selfe Mary and Iohn As he was done the rode vpon In sygnyfyaunce for whome he faught The spere heed forgate he naught Vpon his shafte he wolde it haue Goddes name theron was graue Now herken what othe he sware Or they to the batayll wente thare Yf it were so that Rycharde myght Slee the sowdan in felde with fyght At our wyll euerychone He and his sholde gone In to the cyte of babyloyne And the kynge of masydoyne He sholde haue vnder his honde And yf the sowdan of that londe Myght slee Rycharde in the felde With swerde or spere vnder shelde That crysten men sholde go Out of that londe for euer mo And the sarasynes theyr wyll in wolde Quod kynge Rycharde therto I holde Therto my gloue as I am knyght They be armed and redy dyght Kynge Rycharde to his sadell dyde lepe Certes who that wolde take kepe To se that syght it were fayre Theyr stedes ranne with grete ayre Also harde as they myght dyre After theyr fete sprange out fyre Tabours and trumpettes gan blowe There men myght se in a throwe How kynge Rycharde that noble man Encountred with the sowdan The chefe was tolde of damas His truste vpon his mare was And therfore as the boke vs telles His crouper henge full of belles And his peytrell and his arsowne Thre myle men myght here the sowne His mare nyghed his belles dyde rynge For grete pryde without lesynge Afaucon brode in honde he bare For he thought he wolde thare Haue slayne Rycharde with treasowne Whan his colte sholde knele downe As a colte sholde souke his dame And he was ware of that shame His eres with wexe were stopped faste Therfore Rycharde was not agaste He stroke the fende that vnder hym wente And gaue the sowdan his deth with a dente In his shelde verament Was paynted a serpent With the spere that Rycharde helde He bare hym thorugh vnder his shelde None of his armure myght hym laste Brydell and peytrell all to braste His gyrthes and his steropes also His mare to grounde wente tho Maugre her heed he made her seche The grounde without more speche His fete towarde the fyrmament Behynde hym the spere out went There he fell deed on the grene Rycharde smote the fende with spores kene And in the name of the holy goost He dryueth in to the hethen hoost And as soone as he was come Asonder he brake the sheltrone And all that euer afore hym stode Hors and man to the grounde yode Twenty fote on eyther syde All that he ouertoke that tyde On lyue was there lefte none Thorugh out he made his hors gone As bees swarme out of hyues The crysten men hym after dryues And cryed than slee downe ryght Bothe sowdans kynges and knyght Whan the kynge of fraunce wyste & his men That the maystry had the crysten They wexed bolde and good herte toke Stedes bestrode and shaftes shoke The kynge of fraunce with a spere An hethen kynge gan downe bere And other erles and barownes Noble men of grete renownes Slewe the sarasynes downe ryght Of englonde many a noble knyght Wrought full well that daye Of salysbury the longe spaye To grounde he felde with his bronde And tho that he before fonde Nexte kynge Rycharde euer he was And of multon syr Thomas Fouke doly Roberte of leycester In the worlde was not theyr better Where that ony of them come They spared nother swayne ne grome That they ne felde all a downe The sarasynes sledde in to the towne For grete sorowe that they seen The teres ranne out of theyr eyen And swythe mercy they cryde And soone they opened the gates wyde And let them in at theyr wyll come The crysten than the cyte nome Anone hastely therwithall They set baners on the wall The kynges armes of englonde Whan Salandyn gan to vnderstonde That the cyte yelded was He gan to crye and sayd alas The pryse of hethenes is I done And tho began to flee full soone With hym many a baron and knyght But kynge Rycharde that was wyght Whan he sawe the sowdan flye Abyde cowarde he sayd on hye And I shall the preue false And thy cursed goddes alse Kynge Rycharde dryued after hym faste The sowdan was sore agaste A grete wood before hym he sawe Theder in a grete haste he flawe Rycharde wente the wood nere He douted of encombrere He myght not in for his tre Sone he tourned his horse eye With that he mette a hethen kynge His axe he drewe out of his rynge And he hytte hym on the creste That his lyfe no lenger laste Another he raught vpon the shelde The heed flewe in to the felde Syxe he slewe of bethen kynges To tell the sothe in all thynges In his geste as I fynde More than twenty thousynde Of emty stedes aboute yode Vp to the fote lakes in blode All a straye aboute they yede What man wolde myght ryde That batayll lasted tyll it was nyght But whan they had slayne downe ryght The sarasynes that they myght take Grete Ioye the crysten dyde make They kneled and thanked god in heuen And worshypped his names seuen On bothe sydes were folkes Islawe But the nombre of the hethen lawe That laye deed vpon the felde To god they gan theyr soules yelde There were slayne hondredes thre And of the sarasynes more plente An hondred thousande and yet mo Lo suche grace god sente tho The crysten in to the cyte gone Of golde & syluer & precyous stone They founde Inowe without fayle Mete and drynke and other vytayle On the morowe whan the kynge arose His dedes were ryche and his lose The sarasynes before hym come And asked hym crystendome There were crysted as I fynde More than twenty thousynde Chyrches he let make of crystes lawe And theyr maumettes all to drawe And tho that wolde not crysten become They were slayne all and some And departed that tresour Amonge crysten with honour Erle baron knyght and knaue Had as moche as they wolde haue Whan this was done I you saye He let his colte vanysshee awaye

¶ How kynge Rycharde and the kynge of fraunce were wrothe togyder / and how the kynge of fraun wente home to his londe . THere they dwelled fourtenyght And afterwarde they them nyght Towarde Iherusalem they gan ryde Kynge Phelyp spake a worde of pry●e Iherusalem that fayre cyte That is so fayre and so fre Though thou it wynne it shall be myn By god sayd Rycharde & by saynt martyn And as god do my so●ue bore Of my wynnynge not halfe a fote I ne shall gyue the no londe I do the well to vnderstonde If thou wylte it haue he sayd then Go now forth & wynne it with thy men Myn offrynge quod Rycharde lo it he●● I wyll come Iherusalem no nere And in an arblaste of vyse he ben●● A floryn towarde the cyte he sense And that was sygnyfyaunce Ihesu cryste to honouraunce For wrathe became seke the kynge of fraunce His leches he sente after without dystaunce And they sayd neuer he sholde hole ben But he in to fraunce retourned ayen Than his counseyll vnderstode And sayd it was trewe and good Theyr shyppes they dyght more & las●● And wente home at alhalowmasse Kynge Rycharde gan to hym crye And sayd he dyde grete vylanye To wende home for maladly Out of the londe of Surry Tyll done was goddes seruyse For lyfe or deth in ony wyse The kynge of fraunce none other wolde do But in that maner departed so And after that departynge forsoth Euer after they were wrothe

¶ How kynge Rycharde and his men made the walles of a cyte whiche hyght chalens / and how the duke of astryche departed frome hym / bycause of the rebuke he gaue hym bycause he wolde not doo as he dyde / and how kynge Rycharde wan the castell of daron . NOw herken of Rycharde the kynge How he wrought with his gynge Kynge Rycharde wente his hoost To Iaffe without ony boost The kynges pauylyon good and fyne They gan dyght with a gryffyne Other lordes gan aboute sprede Theyr pauylyons in fayre mede Kynge Rycharde with his men all Of the cyte let make the wall That neuer was no sarasynes So stronge wrought with byches That castell was stronge and ryche In the worlde was none hym lyche Theder myght come by the see Of all maner goodes grete plente He set euery warde with good knyghtes Stoute in armes stronge in fyghtes Men myght wende the cyte aboute Many myle without doute Kynge Rycharde dewelled with honour Tyll Iaffe were made and the toure Frome thens to chalens he wente And founde the walles all to rente Grete and fayre was the cyte Kynge Ryeharde therof had pyte Kynge Rycharde besought the lordes all Of that cyte to helpe to make the wall And all the lordes euerychone Graunted hym his askynge anone Saue the duke of esteryche Kynge Rycharde thought to be quycke Kynge Rycharde began to trauayle Aboute the walles without fayle So there dyde many an other Fader and sone eme and brother Made moter and layde stone With theyr myght euerychone Euery kynge and euery emperour Stones bare and mortour Saue the duke that was full of pryde He ne wolde them helpe at no tyde Vpon a daye kynge Rytharde hym mette And hendly kynge Rycharde hym grette He badde the duke of his courtesye To make of the wall his partye And he answered in his maner My fader was nother mason nor carpenter And though your wall all to shake I shall them neuer helpe to make Kynge Rycharde was in grete erroure Wrathe made hym to chaunge coloure The duke with his fote he smote Ayenst the breste god it wote That on a stone he ouerthrewe It was mysdome by saynt Mathewe Fye on the deuylles thou foule cowarde In hell be thou hanged harde Go quyckely out of this hoost The curse haue thou of the holy goost By the sydes of cryste Ihesus Fynde I the traytour amonge vs Ouer this same dayes thre My selfe shall thy bane be Traytour we trauayle daye & nyght In ware and wrake and in fyght And thou lyest as foule gloton And slepest in thy pauylyon Thou drynkest wyne good & stronge And slepest all the daye longe I shall take frome the thy baner And caste it in to the ryuer Home wente the duke full wrothe His owne stryfe was hym lothe Of that despyte he was vnblythe He trussed his harneys as swythe And sware by Ihesu in trynyte Yf he myght euer his tymese He sholde of Rycharde hym so awreke That all the worlde therof shall speke He helde hym all to well forwarde In hell be he hanged harde Thorugh his treason and his trechery And thorugh the waytynge of a spye He dyde kynge Rycharde grete shame That tourned all englonde to grame A lytell lenger and he moost And had his lyfe by the holy goost Of euery duke kynge and emperous He had ben lorde and conquerour All crysten and eke panym Solde all holde of hym The duke of estryche hyed faste Awaye with his meyne in haste And with hym the duke of burgoyne The folke of fraunce & the erle of coloyne Kynge Rycharde let breke his baner And caste it in to the ryuer And cryed on hym with voyce stepe Home shrewed cowarde and go slepe Come no more in no wyse Neuer efte in goddes seruyse The duke of estryche prycked then For wrathe his herte gan bren Kynge Rycharde lefte with his englysshe Tuscanes gascoynes lumbardes Iwas Skottes Irysshe and folke of brytayne Geneuoys baskes and men of spayne And made the walles daye and nyght Tyll they were stronge pyght Than kynge Rycharde with grete pyne Had made the walles of chalyne All his hoost with hym he taas And wente forth a grete paas The fyrst nyght in the name of Marye He laye at a towne that hyght famelye On the morowe he let hym arme wele Bothe in Iren and eke in stele By the maryne forth he wente To abbare a cyte full gente That was a castell of sarasynes Full of stones and of ryches Bothe of fatte flesshe and of lene Whete otes pesyn and bene Kynge Rycharde it wan & soiourned there Nyne dayes all planere And sente spyes by eche wayes For to aspye the countrayes Of castell daron kynge Rycharde herde All togyder how it ferde For it was full of sarasynes That were goddes enemyes Kynge Rycharde wente theder in haste The sarasynes for to agaste So he wente on his Iournaye He came theder by saynt Iames daye They besyeged the daron To wynne the castell and the towne The castell was made of suche stone That it dredde assaute ryght none Aboute the walles was I dyght They ne had neuer sene no syght The sarasynes cryed in theyr langage Crysten houndes of euyll rage Here ye haue fet your dome But ye the sooner tourne home Whan kynge Rycharde herde that crye He sware his othe by saynt Marye The sarasynes sholde be hanged all Or suche a case sholde befall The crysten assayled & they defended And many a quarell they sended All that daye and all that nyght They and the crysten kepte fyght Kynge Rycharde sawe he myght not spede Than he bethought hym of an other rede Kynge Rycharde toke all his englysshe And dyde repe russhes in a marysshe To fyll withall the dyche of darowne To wynne the castell and the towne Twenty grete gynnes for the nones Kynge Rycharde sente after to cast stones By water they were brought anone The matgryffon was that one That was set vpon an hyll To breke the walles of the castyll That other gynne hyght robynet That on an other syde was set Rycharde fet an other mangenell That caste towarde an other tourell Kynge Rycharde dyde bynde the russhes faste And in to the dyche dyde them caste And all playne the dyche made The sarasynes no warde they hade Wylde fyre theron they caste The russhes were on fyre in haste And brenned ryght to the grounde Soone within a lytell stounde Of the crysten many an hondred Therof gretely were awondred The mangenelles threwe alwayes And brake the walles nyght and daye The robynet and the matgryffowne And that they hytte they caste downe So within a lytell stounde The nexte wall was caste to grounde And fylled full the grete dyche Efte with russhes hastelyche Tho myght our knyghtes well Entre in to daron castell The erle of leycester syr Roberth The trustyest body of myddell erth He was the fyrst without fayle The castell daron to assayle Vp he lefte his banere And smote on the destrere The sarasynes with mysauentoure Fledde in to the hygh toure That was bothe stronge and starke All of the sarasynes warke And many stode withoute And fought faste without doute Ayenst the erle syr Robarde They gaue many a dente harde Many a helme there was weued And many a bassenet all to cleued Sheldes clouen fyll a two And many a stede stycked also Roberte turnam with his faucowne Gan there to cracke many a crowne The longe spaye the erle of rychemonde Slewe many an hethen hounde All that theyr swerdes araught It fell at the fyrst draught There dyed many crysten men But of hethen suche ten Amonge them came kynge Rycharde To fyght well he nothynge sparde Many one in a lytell stounde With his axe he layde to grounde All on fote he gan to fyght The sarasynes of hym had a syght How plenteuous was his payment None ne myght withstonde his dent They wente quykly without fable And slewe theyr stedes in the stable The fayrest hors and stede That euer bare knyght at nede Flesshe whete floure and larder All togyder they set on fyer They had leuer to do so Than with theyr vytayll to helpe theyr fo By the brethe kynge Rycharde aspyde He slewe downe ryght on euery syde All that he myght ouertake None amendes must they make He began to assayle the hye toure With wyght men of grete valoure The sarasynes in the toure on hye Saynge theyr endynge daye was nye Wylde fyre soone in haste Amonge the crysten it was caste The wylde fyre flowe aboute so smarte That many a crysten man it harte They myght no lenger suffre that thrawe Anone they began them to withdrawe A myle frome daron castell They caste abrode many a fyre barell And soone after in a lytell space Thorugh the helpe of goddes grace The castell fell on fyre all Fro the toure to the vttermost wall The houses brente and the burdys Gr●te smoke there arose Iwys The sarasynes were almoost attaynt And in the smoke well nygh adraynt Ten hondred there cryed at one worde Mercy kynge Rycharde good lorde Let vs go out of this toure And thou shalte haue a grete tresoure With lyfe and lymbe let vs go A thousande we gyue the to Nay quod Rycharde by Ihesu cryste By his dethe and by his vpryste Ye shall neuer downe come Tyll payed be that raunsome And yet therafter be at my wyll Whether I wyll you saue or spyll Or ye shall ryght there sterue Alorde they sayd we shall the serue At thy wyll we wyll vs do With that we must come the to To honge or drawe brenne or sle Our fredome lorde is in the Kynge Rycharde graunted them than And commaunded the crysten man That the sarasynes be kepte with sorowe For to the sonne aryse on the morowe It was done as I in boke fynde Kynge Rycharde let them faste bynde Vpon a playne before the wall Kynge Rycharde let them lede all And he that payed a thousande pounde For his heed he myght passe sounde He that wolde so moche gyue To a certayne daye he let hym lyue And he that payed no raunsowne As quycke his heed was smyten downe Thus kynge Rycharde wan daron God gyue vs all his benyson And his soule reste and ro And ours whan it cometh therto

¶ How kynge Rycharde smote downe an ymage of marble / and how he slewe fyue sarasynes that were within the sayd ymage and of many other maters . AFter the wynnynge of darowne The kynge wente to an other towne To gatrys with a fayre meyne For to besyege that cyte Now herken how he it wan And ye shall here of a doughty man A stoute warryour and a queynte That neuer was founde in herte feynte He that was lorde of Catrys Had ben a man of prys And fell to fyght ayenst his fo That same tyme it was not so For he was so fallen in elde That he myght none armes welde Bus as he dyde after queyntyse Herken nowe in whiche wyse Amyddes the towne vpon a stage He let make a marble ymage I crowned stoutly as a kynge And badde his folke olde and yinge That they sholde neuer ben a knowe To crysten men hygh ne lowe That they had no lordynge of dygnyte But that ymage in that cyte Kynge Rycharde the warryour kene There assaute he began by dene Spryngelles and mangenelles he bente And stones to the cyte sente The sarasynes mercy cryde They wolde caste pv the gates wyde If it were kynge Rychardes wyll That he wolde not the people spyll And he graunted without les They had entre all in peas Kynge Rycharde asked at the fyrst worde Of the cyte where was the lorde They answered Rycharde the kynge That they ne had no lordynge But the ymage of marble fyne And mahowne and theyr god appolyne Kynge Rycharde stode so sayth the boke And on the ymage he gan for to loke How hewge he was wrought and sterne And sayd to them all yerne O sarasynes without fayle Of your lorde I haue meruayle Yf I may thorugh helpe of my lorde god That bought vs all with his blode With a shafte smyte his necke asonder And ye shall se that wonder Wyll ye byleue all vpon my lorde Ye than they sayd all at one worde Than kynge Rycharde let hym dyght a shafte Of a trusty tree and of kynde crafte And for it sholde ben stronge and laste He let bynde therto well faste Endlonge foure yerdes of yre And syth Rycharde the grete syre Let set theron a crownall kene Whan it was redy on to sene Fauell of Cypres was forth fet And in the sadell he hym set And rode his course to the stage And in the face smote the ymage The heed tho flowe the body asonder And slewe fyue sarasynes there vnder The sarasynes sayd than He was a deuyll and no man And all became crysten thore yonge and olde lesse and more And hastely without lesynge Theyr olde lorde they gan forth brynge And tolde all his compasement Kynge Rycharde lough with good entent And gaue hym the cyte to welde Though he leued adamas helde To chalyns he wente agayne Forth by the maryne soth to sayne There he soiourned seuen nyght With many a doughty knyght They pyght pauylyons fayre and well For to besyege a stronge castell That was a myle besyde lyem Thre myle frome castell pylgrem With thycke walles & tourelles of pryde The castell was cleped lefryde The sarasynes sawe the kynge was come For drede they wende to ben I nome Theyr hertes were full of wo All by nyght awaye they flo The gate they vnshette full yerne And flowe awaye by a posterne For all this myddell erth They ne durst abyde kynge Rycharde This noble castell verament Kynge Rycharde wan without dent Fro thens he wente to gebolyn That hospytalers had dwelled therin And templers bothe in fere And kepte the cyte many a yere Whan Bawdewyn was slayne with bronde Salandyn toke the towne in honde In that cyte was saynt Anne I bore That our lady was of I bore They pyght the kynges pauylyownes With force within the townes And slewe the sarasynes all and same That wolde not leue on crystes name There came the fyrst wycked tydynge To cure delyon Rycharde our kynge Of englonde his brother Iohn That was the fendes flesshe and bone Thorugh helpe of the barones sone The chaunceler had I nome And wolde be with maystry of honde Crowned kynge of englonde At estertyde there afterwarde Than answered kynge Rycharde What deuyll he sayd how is this Telleth Iohn no more prys He weneth that I lyue to longe Therfore he wyll do me wronge And yf he knewe I were on lyue He wolde not with me stryue I shall me so of hym awreke That all the worlde therof shall speke If Iohn hym crowne that ester tyde Where wyll he me than abyde There is no kynge in crystente Certes that shall his waraunt be I ne may byleue for no nede That my brother wyll do this dede Yes certes sayd the messengere He wyll so do by saynt rychere Kynge Rycharde all this tydynge Helde in herte but lesynge Fro gebolyne forth he wente To betanye a castell gente And slewe theyr many an hethen man And that noble cyte he wan There come other messengers That tolde Rycharde stoute and fyers That Iohn his brother wolde bere Crowne at ester he gan to swere The kynge was lothe to withdrawe his honde Tyll he had I wonne the holy londe And slewe the sowdan with dente of sworde And auenged Ihesu our lorde And he bethought hym after then He wolde leue there his men And with a preuy meyne In to englonde wolde he And apease that warre anone Bytwene hym and his brother Iohn And came agayne in hyenge For to fulfyll his begynnynge And also he thought in his herte A stoute sarasyne gan in sterte That ought kynge Rycharde raunson For the wynnynge of daron He spake to Rycharde apartylyche Amonge his people that were ryche Syr kynge thou shalte me quyte skere And all thyn other hostagere Thorugh thy queyntyse and thy gyn I shall the do grete tresour wyn More than an hondred thousande pounde Florence of golde hole and sounde Of the sarasynes tresore And moche more other store Therto I laye to hostage my lyfe And my chyldren and my wyfe But I do the wynne that praye On an euyll dethe must I daye Kynge Rycharde sayd thou mystruaunt So as thou byleuest on termagaunt Tell me now what folke there is I byleue it is full fayntyse Iwys That ledeth so tresour without iayles Syr there ben fyue hondred camayles And fyue thousande there ben & mo Asses and grete mules also That ledeth golde to Salandyn Of grete tresour and of fyne Of whete and of spycerye Of sylke and sendell grete plentye Rycharde sayd so god me deme Is there moche folke that to yeme Ye syr he sayd there ben before Knyghtes rydynge syxty score And after cometh suche ten Of doughty hethen men I herde them speke in theyr rounynge They were aferde of the englysshe kynge Kynge Rycharde sayd that they sholde fynde Though there were twenty thousynde I wolde them mete euerychone Though I were my selfe alone Without helpe of ony man I wolde them flee or quycke tan Do saye me anone ryght Where shall I fynde them to nyght Here besyde myles ten Thou myght fynde the hethen men There they wyll reste and abyde Tyll more folke comeryde Hors and harneys he cryed anone Cure delyon now is tyme to gone Before wente his templers His gascoyens and his hospytalers Hors and men were cryed in hyenge And wente forth with Rycharde our kynge Than sayd the longe spaye vnto the kynge Syr make here thy dwellynge They ben lodged in the towne I wyll go and aspye theyr rowne And brewe them a drynke with wo Now I wyll to them go And tell them that kynge Rycharde Is faste in to englondewarde They wyll me leue with the best And they wyll than go to theyr rest And than syr may ye wende And take them all slepende Fye a deuyll sayd the kynge God gyue the euyll endynge I am no traytour take good kepe To sle men whan they slepe By clere daye vpon the feldes Thou shalte se speres and sheldes Be it erles barons or kynges All they shall haue theyr endynges The sarasyne our kynge Rycharde answereth There is no man in the myddell erth Duke baron ne knyght Is none so hardy ne so wyght Ne none so moche of renowne Well mayst thou be hyght Rycharde cure delyon Therfore I wyll not it forhele There ben of sarasynes twyes so fele As thou hast folke in this countre Sertaynly I warne the Rycharde sayd god gyue me shame Therfore and my herte be lame For one of my crysten men Is worth of sarasynes nyne or ten The more there ben the more shall we slo And awreke Ihesu cryste of his fo Forth wente there a spye after then And aspyed the hethen men He aspyed theyr compassynge And tolde it Rycharde our kynge He cryed hors and harneys thare And dyght them and made them yare Anone lepte the kynge Rycharde On his stede that hyght lyarde His englysshe and his templers They lepte anone on theyr destrers And wente in to the hethen hoost In the name of the holy goost All the sarasynes with one noblaye To the sowdan wolde theyr waye Kynge Rycharde smote them amonge There began a blysfull songe But to term agaunt and to mahowne They cryed helpe to syr plutowne Kynge Rycharde gan downe bere Them thorugh the herte with a spere And so he serued an admyrayle And fyue dukes without fayle Afterwarde his axe he drewe Many an hethen man he slewe Some he cloue vnto the sadell ryght And slewe bothe swayne and knyght A kynge he cloue vnto the arsowne There halpe hym nought mahowne An erle he smote on the yren hode That at the breste the axe withstode There was full many a sarasyne That he sente to hell pyne They destroyed many a stede So swyftely they gan spede His templers and his hospytalers Came there on fayre destrers So longe they fought sayth the storye That they had the vyctorye Thorugh helpe of his crysten knyghtes Styffe in armes stronge in fyghtes And as many he slewe alone As they dyde euerychone And many escaped with dethes wounde That lyued after but a stounde They wolde hym no more mete Rycharde by the waye ne by strete Now may ye here of the wynnynge That wanne Rycharde our kynge Hors of pryce and many a camayle Fyue thousande & fyue hondred saunce fayle Syxe hondred hors of grete coursers All charged with ryche tresers That were in cofers faste I bounde With fyne syluer and golde full rounde Mules he had thre thousande and mo That pannes and spyces bare tho And fyue hondred of asse Bare wyne and oyle more & lasse And also many of whete rede There Rycharde dyde a noble dede Whan he all that tresour wan He wente home to his man In to betanye that cyte noble With that treasour and with that moble He gaue to hygh and to lowe Of his purches good ynowe He gaue them stedes and coursers So Rycharde parted his purches in fyers Hym betydde a well fayre case Of all crystendome lorde he was Soone after in a lytell stounde There came two messengers of mounde The bysshop of chester was that one That other the abbot of saynt albone And brought letters specyell I sealed with the barons seell They hym tolde that kynge Iohn Wolde do hym the crowne vpon At eester by the comyn dome But ye the rather come home For the kynge of fraunce with enuye Was rysen in normandye Than sayd Rycharde by goddes payne The deuyll hath now to moche mayne For all theyr boost and theyr deraye Yet they shall bowe some daye There they dwelled tyll halowmasse And than he gan to Iaffe passe For seuen yere and for more He gan the castell to astore Fyue thousande I fynde in boke He let there that castell loke For to kepe well that londe Out of Salandynes honde Tyll that come agayne he myght Frome englonde god it dyght And than he thought to Acrys warde That doughty body kynge Rycharde Of Salandyn now begyn I geste That maketh noyse and grete heste Wrothe he was and full sore amoued For his tresour was thus robbed And for his men were thus I slayne Therfore was hym nothynge fayne And sayd he wolde awreked be Whan he myght his tyme se So that tyme came a spye in And tolde thus to Salandyn A lorde be now blythe of mode I the brynge tydynges gode To thy herte a blythe presente Kynge Rycharde is to Acrys wente For ouer he wyll to englonde Hym is I come suche a sonde That Ihon his brother I the swere Wyll his crowne bere Iaffe he hath stored a ryght With many a baron & hardy knyght Fyftene thousande I wote well That shall kepe the towne & the castell If he may so well spede Tyll he come frome his stede Salandyn was ofre in wele and wo But neuer so mery as he was tho The spye he gaue an hondred besauntes That the tydynges brought to presauntes And a ryght fayre destrere And robe furred with blaundemere Than wolde he no lenger abyde He sente aboute on euery syde Vpon lymbe and vpon lyfe Vpon chyldren and vpon wyfe That they come to hym belyue To helpe hym out of londe dryue Kynge Rycharde and his tayle To hym came an admyrayle Many a duke and many a kynge And many an other grete lordynge Of egypte and of arabye Of capadose and of barbarye Of cyre and of asclomoyne Of ynde and of babyloyne Of grete grece and tyre also Of many empyres & kyngdomes to Of all the hethen kynges that I fynde Frome the grekes see vnto ynde Charles the kynge ne Alysaunder Of whome was made moche sclaunder Ne had neuer halfe the hoost As in the countre laye in coost Fyue myle it laye in brede And more I wene so god me rede And twenty it was of length This was an hoost of grete strength There men myght se grete wonder Of people that were without nombre Iaffe they haue aboute I set Many a crysten man to let There were in a lytell thrawe On bothe partyes moche folke I slawe So stoute and harde was the batayle That it fared without fayle As it had ben frome heuen lyght So clere it was of swerdes bryght The crysten men well fought To slee the sarasynes they had in thought They fared as of the erth they spronge So many there were of olde and yonge That no slaughter of swerdes kene In that batayll myght ben sene Tho the crysten fledde in to the castell And kepte the gates swythe well The sarasynes the cyte nome To theyr well and to theyr dome Than began many a sarasyne The castell wall to vndermyne And the crysten for the nones To frusshe them bothe body and bones The sarasynes yode aboute the wall And shotte in ouer all And our men to them as swythe Many of them they made vnblythe They sought where they myght best Greue the crysten men mest At the laste a gate they fonde Not faste shotte in they sonde There they founde a stronge metynge Of launces and swerdes caruynge To grounde they layde a thousande men Of ours there were slayne but ten Thoughe they were neuer so stoute At the gate they put them oute That daye myght they not spede The sarasynes for no nede A knyght by the mone clere The crysten sente a messengere To kynge Rycharde to Acrys cyte And badde hym for goddes pyte That he sholde to helpe come And elles they were all I nome They tolde hym all the harde cas Of the sowdan how it was And but ye come to them anone They ben but deed euerychone Rycharde answered tho a plyght Full well knowe I the sowdans fyght He wyll make but a deraye At the walles and go his waye I wyll not for hym to them wende But soone I wyll them socour sende He cleped to hym his neuewe A baron of grete vertewe That hyght Harry of champayne And bad hym wende to Iaffe playne And sayd take with the this hoost And abbate the sowdans boost Hors and harneys he gan crye Amonge the hoost they sholde hye And with syr Harry for to wende And Iaffe helpe to defende Ayenst the cursed Salandyne And awreke you of the sarasyne On the morowe wente syr Harry And many a good knyght hardy Gascoynes spanyardes and lumbarde For the byddynge of kynge Rycharde They wente forth by the maryne Tyll they came to palastryne The sarasynes hoost there they sene All the countre full I wene Of theyr comynge the sawdan herde Swythe towarde them he ferde Whan duke Harry this wyste He fledde agayne by Ihesu cryste And he made no tarynge Tyll he came to Rycharde our kynge And sayd he neuer sawe ne herde In all this wyde myddell erde Not halfe dele the people of men That Salandyn hath by downe & den No tonge he sayd may them tell I wene they come out of hell Than answered kynge Rycharde Fye a deuylles thou foule cowarde He shall I neuer by god aboue Truste to frensshe mannes loue The crysten men that in Iaffe beth They may wyte the of theyr deth Thorugh thy defaude I am a dradde My good barons ben bestadde Now for the loue of saynt Marye Swythe shewe me my galye All tho that euer loue me To shyppe nowe for charyte All that euer wepen bere myght To shyppe the wente anone ryght And hyed them to Iaffe warde With the doughty kynge Rycharde Herken now how my tale goth Though I swere to you none othe I wyll you rede romayns none Of pertenope ne of yponydone Ne of Alysaunder ne of Charlemayne Ne of Arthur ne of Gawayne Ne of Launcelot de lake Ne of Beuys ne Guy of Sydrake Ne of Vry ne of Octauyan Ne of Hector the stronge man Ne of Iason neyther of Hercules Ne of Eneas neyther of Achylles They ne wanne neuer parmafaye In theyr tyme by theyr daye And anone of them so doughty dede Ne so stronge batayll ne of felowrede As dyde kynge Rycharde without fayle At Iaffe at that stronge batayle With his axe and his swerde Assoyle his soule Ihesu lorde It was before mydnyght Mone and sterre shone well bryght Rycharde was to Iaffe come With his galayes all and some And herkened towarde the castell If he myght here taboure or flagell And he nought coude aspye By voyce ne by mynstrelsye What quycke man in the castell ware Tho became his herte full of care Well sore than wepte kynge Rycharde Wronge his hondes and tare his barde A Ihesu now thy socour To longe I haue made soiour Now slayne is Roberte mortemere That was erle of leycestere Euery here of hym was worth a knyght And Roberte turnam that was so wyght And syr Brandys and syr Pyttarde That in batayll was wyse and harde And all my good barons The best of all my regyons They ben slayne and all to tore How myght I lenger lyue therfore I myght haue saued all myne If I had comen betyme Certes I shall neuer be blythe man Tyll I be awreked on the sowdan Thus syghed kynge Rycharde aye Tyll it came ayenst the daye A wayte there stode at a cornell And pyped a note with a flagell He ne pyped but one sythe Many an herte he made blythe He loked downe and sawe galyes Kynge Rycharde and his nauyes Shyppe and sayle well he knewe A mery note than he blewe And cryed seygnyours or sus sus Kynge Rycharde is come amonge vs Whan the crysten herde this Theyr hertes became lyght I I wys Erles barons squyers and knyght To the walles ranne ryght And sawe kynge Rycharde theyr lorde And welcomed hym with blythe worde And sayd lorde welcome in goddes name All our sorowe is tourned to game Rycharde had neuer in herte Iwys Halfe dele so moche blys Hors and harneys he cryed thare Ayenst the sarasynes for to fare We ne haue lyfe but one Sell we it dere bothe flesshe & bonē For to chalenge our herytage Slee we the sarasynes on euyll rage Who so hym douteth for menace Ne se he neuer in goddes face Take me myn axe in myn honde It was made in englonde No more theyr armure I ne doute Than it were a pylche cloute The sothe to saye men shall se Thorugh goddes helpe in trynyte He was the fyrst that on londe dyde lepe Of a dosyn he made an hepe He gan to crye with voyce clere Where ben these hethen pantenere That haue the cyte of Iaffe I nome With my pollaxe I am come For to waraunt that I haue do Wassayll he sayd I drynke you to He layde on I saye you a plyght And slewe the sarasynes downe ryght The sarasynes fledde and wente mate Full faste out at the castell gate In herte they were full of sorowe That them thought the gate to narowe And ranne to the walles of the towne By euery syde they lepte downe And eueryche cryed in this manere Herken now and ye shall here Malkan sterran nayre arbru Loyre fermoyre touz memoru That is for to saye in englysshe The englysshe deuyll I come is And but we flee out of his waye An euyll deth shall we dye to daye They fledde out of the towne anone Therin abode not so moche as one But foure hondred or fyue They were soone brought out of lyue They lepte on theyr destreres And at the gate set porters Kynge Rycharde lepte on fauell Well armed in yren and in stele And rode hym out at the gate The kynge of egypte he mette therate With syxty thousande of sarasynes fers With armes bryght and brode baners Rycharde a duke on the helme hytte Downe to the grounde he hym slytte Another he smote on the yren hode That at his breste his swerde stode His templers and his barons Fared ryght lyke wood lyons And slewe the sarasynes swythe As grasse falleth before the sythe The sarasynes sawe no better wone But fledde awaye euerychone To Salandynes grete hoost That fyftene myle laye in coost Syxty thousande as I you saye The sowdan loste that same daye For theyr armure fared as waxe Ayenst kynge Rychardes axe Many a sarasyne & hygh lordynge Yelded them to Rycharde our kynge Rycharde put them in hostage tho There were a thousande prysoners & mo The chase lasted swythe longe Tyll the tyme of euensonge Rycharde rode after tyll it was nyght So many of them to deth he dyght That no nombre it may accounte How many of them it wolde amounte Rycharde lefte without the towne And pyght there his pauylyowne And that nyght with mylde herte He comforted his barons smarte And ye shall here on the morowe How there was a daye of sorowe For the gretest batayll I vnderstonde That neuer was in ony londe And ye that this batayll wyll lere Herken now and ye shall here As kynge Rycharde sate at his soupere And gladded his barons with mylde chere And comforted them with ale and wyne Two messengers came frome Salandyn And stode kynge Rycharde before With longe berdes and with hore Of two mules they were a lyght In golde and sylke they were I dyght Eyther helde other by the honde And sayd kynge Rycharde now vnderstonde Our lorde Salandyn the hygh kynge Hath the sente this askynge If that thou were so hardy a knyght That thou durste hym abyde in fyght Tyll to morowe that it daye ware Of blysse thou sholde ben all bare For thy lyfe and for thy barons He wyll not gyue two skalons He wyll the take with strength of hondes For he hath folke of many londes Egyens and of turkye Of moryens and of arabye Basyles and embosyens Well eger knyghtes of defens Egypcyens and of surrye Of ynde moror and of capadocye Of medes and of asclamoyne Of samarye and of babyloyne Two hondred knyghtes without fayle Fyue hondred of amarayle The grounde ne may them vnneth bere The folke that cometh the to dere By our rede do ryght well And tourne agayne to Iaffe castell In safe warde thou myght there be Tyll thou haue sente after thy meyne And yf thou se thou may not stonde Tourne agayne to thyn owne londe In anger Rycharde toke vp a lofe And in his hondes it all to rofe And sayd to that sarasyne God gyue the well euyll pyne And Salandyn your lorde The deuyll hym hange with a corde For your counseyll and your tydynge God gyue you well euyll endynge Now go and saye to Salandyn In despyte of his god appolyn I wyll abyde hym betyme Though he come to morowe or pryme And though I were but my selfe alone I wolde abyde them euerychone And yf the dogge wyll come to me My bollaxe shall his bane be And saye that I hym desyre And all his cursed company in fere Go now and saye to hym thus The curse haue he of swete Ihesus The menssengers wente to Salandyn And all the begynnynge tolde hym Salandyn meruayled than And sayd it was none erthly man He is a deuyll or a saynt His myght founde I neuer faynt Anone he made his ordeynynge For to take Rycharde the kynge Therof Rycharde toke no kepe But all nyght laye and slepe Tyll ayenst the dawnynge Than herde he a shyll cryenge Thorugh goddes grace an aungell of heuen Tho sayd to hym with mylde steuen Aryse and lepe on thy good stede fauell And tourne agayne to Iaffe castell Thou haste slepte longe I nough Thou shalte fynde harde and tough Or thou come to that cyte Thou shalte be wrapped & thy meyne After the batayll without leas With the sowdan thou make thy peas Take trues and let thy baronage Vnto the flome do theyr vyage To Nazareth and to Bedlem To Caluarye and to Iherusalem And let them wende after then And come thou after with thy shypmen For enemyes thou haste I vnderstonde There in thyne owne londe Vp sayd the aungell & well the spede Thou ne haddest neuer more nede Rycharde arose as he wolde wede And lepte on fauell his good stede And sayd lordynges or sus or sus Thus hath vs warned swete Ihesus On armes he let crye thare Ayenst the sarasynes for to fare But Salandyn and his tem Was bytwene Iaffe and them That was to Rycharde moche payne That he ne myght his hoost ordayne Before he prycked on fauell His spere dyde byte full well Therwith he slewe without doute Thre kynges of the sowdans route His hors was styffe hymselfe was good Hors ne man hym nought withstood For to hewe many an hethen cors He dyde his myght and his hors He that had seen his countenaunce Wolde hym haue had in remembraunce They gan on hym as faste dryue As bees done from the hony hyue Whome that he hytte with his sworde Neuer after ne spake he worde The englysshe and frensshe gan after ryde To fyght they were fresshe that tyde Vpon the sarasynes faste they donge With swerdes and with launces stronge And smote harde with theyr myght And slewe the sarasynes downe ryght And there was full lytell kepe So many of them were layde on slepe That no slaughter without fayle Ne myght ben seen in that batayle A myre there was without Iaffe A myle longe without lasse Maugre them kynge Rycharde that syre Thre thousande droue in to the myre The foule cursed hethen men Lye and bathe them in the fen And tho that wolde come vp Dranke of Rychardes owne cup What adreynt and what I slawe The sowdan lost of the hethen lawe Syxty thousande in a lytell stounde In the frensshe it is I founde Tho kynge Rycharde wente ayen To recomforte hym with his men Now he was here now he was there To helpe them with his powere Ne sawe men neuer as I you tell One man so many to grounde fell And in the moost peryll of the batayle Kynge Rycharde sawe without fayle His eem syr Harry of champayne Felde downe of his hors in the playne The sarasynes had hym vnder honde To slee hym faste they gan fonde It had ben his daye laste Had not Rycharde comen in haste Rycharde cryed with an hye voyse A helpe god and the holy croyse Myn eem to daye fro shame thou shylde Frome deth of these dogges wylde Lordynges he sayd laye on Ne let these dogges escape non I my selfe shall proue to smyte If my pollaxe wyll ought byte Tho men myght se with mayne How he shedde blode and brayne Vpon the place that grene was Many a soule wente to sathanas The templers came to socoure There began an harde shoure They layde on as they were wode The valeys ranne all on blode The longe spaye was a doughty knyght As he were wode he gan to fyght The kynge of martok he mette in the felde With a spere he smote hym in the shelde That he tombled without fayle Toppe sayle ouer his hors tayle That on his heed he lyght And brake his necke I you plyght The erle of leycester syr Robarde The erle of rychemonde & kynge Rycharde There as these thre knyghtes rode That daye was the waye all brode That foure carters myght mete So many of them there lost the swete On bothe partyes was many a body Slayne that was full hardy At the laste with grete payne They wanne the erle of champayne And brought hym vpon his stede That swythe good was at nede And bad he sholde by hym ryde Ryght by his owne syde With that came a messenger reke With kynge Rycharde for to speke And sayd syr for charyte Tourne agayne to Iaffe cyte Couered is bothe mount and playne Kynge Alysaunder ne Charlemayne Ne had neuer halfe the route As is the cyte now aboute Ye may in to the cyte ryde In felde what happe so euer betyde And I you warne without fayle That moche is payred of your batayle The patryarke I taken is And Iohn neuell I slayne Iwys Wyllyam of Arasyn and Gerarde And bartram the braundys the good lumbarde All these ben slayne and many mo Kynge Rycharde bethought hym tho And began to crye tourne arere Euery man with his banere And of sarasynes thousandes many one To hym gadered euerychone And slewe fauell vnder hym Tho was Rycharde wroth & grym His axe from the arson he drewe The sarasynes therwith he slewe That had stycked vnder hym his stede Therfore they lost theyr hedes to mede On fote he was and on fote he layed Many an hondred vnder hym dayed All that his axe take myght Downe he slewe anone ryght What before and what behynde A thousande sarasynes in boke I fynde He slewe whan he was on fote That came there neuer none to bote Salandynes two sones came ryde And ten thousande sarasynes by theyr syde And began to crye to kynge Rycharde Yelde the traytour thou foule cowarde Or we shall the slee in this place Thou lyest quod Rycharde by goddes grace And with his axe he smote hym so That his myddell he carued in two There halfe the body fell downe And that other halfe abode in the arsowne Of the sayd Rycharde I am syker His broder came to that byker Vpon a stede with grete raundowne As though the worlde sholde fall downe And gaue Rycharde a wounde thorugh the arme That dyde Rycharde moche harme For on the spere heed was venym And Rycharde stoutely smote to hym That hors and man he felde to grounde Lye there quod Rycharde hethen hounde Ne shalte thou neuer tell Salandyne That thou dydest me my lyfe to tyne Than fyue dukes of hethenesse Came with theyr hoost more and lesse And beset aboute Rycharde our kynge And thought all to deth hym brynge But Rycharde within a lytell thrawe The fyue dukes he hath I slawe And many an hondred after then All swythe doughty hethen men At the last though it were late Rycharde wanne to Iaffe gate Tho were our crysten well syker That they sholde wynne that byker The erle of leycester syr Robarde Brought hym his stede lyarde Kynge Rycharde in the sadell dyde lepe Tho fledde the sarasynes ryght as shepe Rycharde rode after tyll it was nyght And slewe all that he take myght There was slayne in playne and den Ten hondred thousande hethen men Tho myght Rycharde without leas Wende to the cyte of Iaffe in peas Tho he thanked the kynge of glorye And Marye of that vyctorye For syth the worlde was begonne A fayrer batayle was neuer wonne On the morowe he sente syr Sabeuyle And syr Roberte of waturuyle Huberte and Roberte of turnam Ganter offorte and Iohn the saynt Iohn That hymselfe and fyue of his men Wolde fyght ayenst fyue hondred & ten In wylde felde they wolde fyght And gouerne theyr goodes ryght And yf they wynne thus that londe Euer in to crysten mennes honde If the sarasynes myght them sle The londe sholde euer theyr owne be And yf they wyll not theyr owne sayes Saye that thre yere and thre dayes I aske termes of the sowden To wende to my londe and come ayen The messengers forth gan wende And tolde the tale worde and ende And the sowdan wolde graunte the batayle Fyue hondred ayenst Rycharde saunce fayle On the morowe yf he wolde come The trues sholde ben I nome And thus tolde the messengers To kynge Rycharde that was so fers The nexte daye the sowdan made forwarde Trues to take with kynge Rycharde Thorugh all the londe to the flome To Acrys that wolde come All the same thre yere Crysten men ferre ne nere Myght go to Iherusalem To the sepulture and to bedlem To olyuete and to nazarell To Iaffe and to mayden castell And to all other pylgrymages Without harme or domages

¶ How kynge Rycharde was slayne before the castell gaylarde / and how the castell was wonne / and all were slayne that were therin . THus kynge Rycharde the doughty man Peas made with the sowdan And syth he came I vnderstonde The waye towarde englonde And thorugh treason was shotte alas At castell gaylarde there he was The duke of estryche in the castell With his hoost was dyght full well Rycharde thought there to abyde The weder was hote in somer tyde At gaylarde vnder the castell He wende he myght haue keled hym well His helme he abbated thare And made his vysage all bare A spye there was in the castell That espyed Rycharde ryght well And toke an arblaste swythe stronge And a quarell that was well longe And smote kynge Rycharde in tene In the heed without wene Rycharde let his helme downe fall And badde his men dyght them all And swore by the see and the sonne Tyll the castell were I wonne Ne sholde neyther mete ne drynke Neuer in to his body synke He set vp robynet that tyde Vpon the castelles syde And on that other halfe the one He set vp the matgryffone To the castell he threwe stones And brake the walles for the nones And so within a lytell tyde In to the castell they gan ryde And slewe before and behynde All tho that they myght ayenst them fynde And euer was the quarell by the lede Stycked styll in Rychardes hede And whan it was drawen out He dyed soone without doute And he commaunded in all thynge To his fader men sholde hym brynge That they ne let for nesshe ne harde Tyll he were at the font euerarde At font euerarde wytterly His bones lye his fader by Kynge Harry forsothe he hyght All englonde he helde to ryght Kynge Rycharde was a conquerour God gyue his soule moche honour No more of hym in englysshe is wrought But Ihesu that vs dere bought Graunte his soule rest and ro And ours whan it cometh therto And that it may so be Saye all amen for charyte