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 Kâ—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
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 cōmaundement 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 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
¶ Kynge Rycharde cuer du lyon ¶ The prologue LOrde kynge of glorye Suche grace and suche vyctorye Thou sendest to kynge Rychard That neuer was founde coward It is good to here Iestes Of his prowesse and his conquestes Many romayns men make newe Of good knyghtes and of trewe Of theyr dedes men rede romauns Bothe in Englonde and in Fraunce Of Rowlande and of Olyuere And of euery defepere Of Alysaunder and of Charlemayne Of kynge Arthur and of Gawayne How they were knyghtes good and curtoys Of Turpyn and of Oger the danoys Of troye men rede in ryme What was by olde tyme Of Hector and of Achylles What folke they slewe in prees In fraunce these rymes were wrought Euery englysshe ne knewe it nought Lewde man can frensshe none Of an hondred vnneth one Neuertheles with gladde chere Yf that ye wyll now here Newe Iestes I vnderstonde Of doughty knyghtes of Englonde Therfore now I wyll you rede Of a kynge doughty of dede Kynge Rycharde was the beste That is founde in ony Ieste Now all that here this talkynge God gyue them good endynge ¶ 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
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 cōmaunded 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
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 cōmaundement 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 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 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 cōmaundemente 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
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 Iohn̄ 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 of prynge 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
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 sowd an sente the colte to kyÌ„ge Rycharde 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 Theâ—e ne had scaped no man Heâ—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
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 Ihon̄ 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 desende 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