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
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 cōmaundement 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
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 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
Huberte and Roberte of turnam Ganter offorte and Iohn̄ the saynt Iohn̄ 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 cōmaunded 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 ¶ Thus endeth the story of the noble kynge Rycharde euer de lyon Enprynted at London in the Fletestrete at the sygne of the sonne by Wynkyn de worde / prynter vnto the moost excellent pryncesse my lady the kynges moder In the yere of our lorde god M. CCCCC.ix W C Wynkyn de Worde
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 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 cōmaunded 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
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