¶ 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
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
knyght Ayenst the frensshe shall take the fyght That castell shall haue a sory nom It shall hyght the mate gryffon Maryners arme your shyppes And do vp your manshyppes By the water halfe ye them assayle And we wyll by londe saunce fayle For come ye neuer to me Tyll I of them a wreked be Therto men myght here crye Helpe god and saynt Mary The maryners gan to hye Bothe with shyppe and with galye Syth ore spredde and sayle also Towarde them they gan go The knyghtes framed the tre castyll Before the cyte vpon an hyll All this sawe the kynge fraunce And sayd haue ye no doutaunce Of all these englysshe cowardes For they ne be but losardes But reyse vp your mangenell And caste to theyr tre castell And shote to them with arblast The tayled dogges for to agast Now harken of Rycharde our kynge How he let bere in the dawnynge Terges and hardes his folke all Ryght before the cyte wall His hoost he let at ones crye Men myght it here in the skye Now let come the frensshe losardes And gyue batayll to the taylardes ye frensshe men them armed all And ranne on fast vpon the wall And began the englysshe for to assayle There began a stronge batayle The englysshe shotte with arblast bowe Frensshe and gryffons felde and slowe The galeys came vnto the cyte And had nygh wonne entre And harde myned vnder the wall That many gryffons gan downe fall With hoked arowes and eke quarelles Helde them out of the tourelles And brake bothe legges and armes And eke theyr neckes it was none harmes The frensshe men came to the stoure And caste wylde fyre out of the toure Wherwith I wote forsothe Iwys They brente and slewe many englysshe And the englysshe men defended them welee With good swerdes of browne stele And slewe of them so grete chepes That there laye moche folke on hepes And at the londe gate kynge Rycharde Helde his assawte lyke harde And so manly he toke one He lefte of his men neuer one He loked besyde and sawe houe A knyght that tolde hym with a gloue Kynge Rycharde and he hym tolde Tales in Englysshe stoute and bolde A lorde he sayd I aspye now ryght A thynge that maketh myn herte lyght Here he sayd is a gate one That hath warde ryght none The folke is gone to the water toure For to do them theyr socoure And there we may without dente Entre in now verament Blyche therof was kynge Rycharde Stoutly he wente thederwarde Many a knyght doughty of dede After prycked vpon theyr stede Kynge Rycharde entred without drede Hym folowed full grete ferhede His baner vpon the wall he pulte Many a gryffon it byhulte As greyhoundes stryken out of lese Kynge Ryeharde threste amonge the prese Seuen chaynes with his good swerde Our kynge for carfe a mydwarde That were drawen for grete doute Within the gates and without Porcules and gates vp he wan And lette come in euery man Men myght se by strete and lane Frensshe and gryffons gaue bane And some to horse ran in haste Dores and wyndowes barred faste And euer men bare them vp with leuours And slewe them with grete vygours All that they founde ayenst them stonde Passed thorugh dethes honde They brake cofers and toke tresours Golde and syluer and countours Iewelles stones and spycery All that they founde in tresoury There was none of englylshe blode That he ne had as moche gode As they wolde drawe or bere To shyppe or to pauylyons I swere And euer cryed kynge Rycharde Slee downe euery frensshe cowarde And ken them in bataylles That ye haue no tayles The kynge of fraunce came pryckynge Ayenst Rycharde our kynge And fell on knees downe of his hors And bad mercy for goddes corps For the crowne and for the loue Of Ihesu cryste kynge aboue And for the vyage and for the crose He sholde be in gree and take lose And he wolde haue honde take They sholde amende all the wrake They that had hym or his Ony thynge done amys Kynge Rycharde had grete pyte Of the kynge of fraunce that sat on kene And lyght downe so sayth the boke And in his armes vp hym toke And sayd it sholde be peas styll And yelde the twone all to his wyll And bad hym nought greue hym tho Though he venged hym of his fo That had his good knyghtes quelde And eke on hym despyte I telde The kynge of fraunce gan to preche And bad Rycharde be his soules leche And the tresoure yelde agayne than That he had take of euery man And elles he ne myght in goddes paye To Iherusalem take the waye Kynge Rycharde sayd with theyr tresoure They myght nought amende the dyshonoure And that they haue done me or this And syr also thou dyde amys Whan thou sentest to Tanker the kynge To appayre me with thy lesynge We haue to Iherusalem the waye sworne Who breketh our pylgrymage he is forlorne Or he that maketh ony medlaye Bytwene vs two in this waye Whan abbated was that dystaunce There came two Iustyces of fraunce Vpon two stedes ryde And kynge Rycharde they ganchyde That one was hyght Margaryte That other syr Hewe Impetyte Swythe sore they hym trayde Cleped taylarde and myssayde Kynge Rycharde helde a tronchon tewe And to them two he hym drewe Margaryte he gaue a dente than Aboue the eye vpon the pan The skull brake with that dente The ryght eye flewe out quytemente And he fell downe deed in haste Hewe of Impetyte was a gaste And prycked awaye without fayle And Rycharde was soone at his tayle And gaue hym a stroke on the molde That deed he thought be he sholde Ternes and quernes he gaue hym there And sayd syr thus thou shalte lere To myssaye thy ouerhedlynge Go playne now to your frensshe kynge An archebysshop came full soone He fell on knees and badde a bone Of kynge Rycharde he had his grace That he wolde leue his stryfe in that place And there no more harme do For goddes loue the people to Kynge Rycharde graunted then And drewe to pauylyon all his men To this daye men may here speke How the englysshe were there awreke All the whyle that they were there They myght well bye theyr chafere There was none so hardy a man That one euyll worde spake gan ¶ How thre of kynge Rychardes shyppes were perysshed in the see / and how the emperour put his men in pryson KYnge Rycharde in peas and reste Fro crystmasse the hygh feste Dwelled there tyll after the lente And than on his waye he wente In marche moneth the kynge of fraunce Wente to shyppe without dystaunce Whan he was gone soone afterwarde Came the doughty kynge Rycharde Forth towarde Acrys wende he wolde With moche store of syluer and golde Foure shyppes were charged I fande Towarde Cyprys all saylande Charged with tresour euery dell And soone a sorowfull caas there fell A grete tempest arose sondaynly That lasted fyue
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
henge full of belles And his peytrell and his arsowne Thre myle men myght here the sowne His mare nyghed his belles dyde rynge For grete pryde without lesynge Afaucon brode in honde he bare For he thought he wolde thare Haue slayne Rycharde with treasowne Whan his colte sholde knele downe As a colte sholde souke his dame And he was ware of that shame His ere 's with wexe were stopped faste Therfore Rycharde was not agaste He stroke the fende that vnder hym wente And gaue the sowdan his deth with a dente In his shelde verament Was paynted a serpent With the spere that Rycharde helde He bare hym thorugh vnder his shelde None of his armure myght hym laste Brydell and peytrell all to braste His gyrthes and his steropes also His mare to grounde wente tho Maugre her heed he made her seche The grounde without more speche His fete towarde the fyrmament Behynde hym the spere out went There he fell deed on the grene Rycharde smote the fende with spores kene And in the name of the holy goost He dryueth in to the hethen hoost And as soone as he was come Asonder he brake the sheltrone And all that euer afore hym stode Hors and man to the grounde yode Twenty fote on eyther syde All that he ouertoke that tyde On lyue was there lefte none Thorugh out he made his hors gone As bees swarme out of hyues The crysten men hym after dryues And cryed than slee downe ryght Bothe sowdans kynges and knyght Whan the kynge of fraunce wyste his men That the maystry had the crysten They wexed bolde and good herte toke Stedes bestrode and shaftes shoke The kynge of fraunce with a spere An hethen kynge gan downe bere And other erles and barownes Noble men of grete renownes Slewe the sarasynes downe ryght Of englonde many a noble knyght Wrought full well that daye Of salysbury the longe spaye To grounde he felde with his bronde And tho that he before fonde Nexte kynge Rycharde euer he was And of multon syr Thomas Fouke doly Roberte of leycester In the worlde was not theyr better Where that ony of them come They spared nother swayne ne grome That they ne felde all a downe The sarasynes sledde in to the towne For grete sorowe that they seen The teres ranne out of theyr eyen And swythe mercy they cryde And soone they opened the gates wyde And let them in at theyr wyll come The crysten than the cyte nome Anone hastely therwithall They set baners on the wall The kynges armes of englonde Whan Salandyn gan to vnderstonde That the cyte yelded was He gan to crye and sayd alas The pryse of hethenes is I done And tho began to flee full soone With hym many a baron and knyght But kynge Rycharde that was wyght Whan he sawe the sowdan flye Abyde cowarde he sayd on hye And I shall the preue false And thy cursed goddes alse Kynge Rycharde dryued after hym faste The sowdan was sore agaste A grete wood before hym he sawe Theder in a grete haste he flawe Rycharde wente the wood nere He douted of encombrere He myght not in for his tre Sone he tourned his horse eye With that he mette a hethen kynge His axe he drewe out of his rynge And he hytte hym on the creste That his lyfe no lenger laste Another he raught vpon the shelde The heed flewe in to the felde Syxe he slewe of bethen kynges To tell the sothe in all thynges In his geste as I fynde More than twenty thousynde Of emty stedes aboute yode Vp to the fote lakes in blode All a straye aboute they yede What man wolde myght ryde That batayll lasted tyll it was nyght But whan they had slayne downe ryght The sarasynes that they myght take Grete Ioye the crysten dyde make They kneled and thanked god in heuen And worshypped his names seuen On bothe sydes were folkes Islawe But the nombre of the hethen lawe That laye deed vpon the felde To god they gan theyr soules yelde There were slayne hondredes thre And of the sarasynes more plente An hondred thousande and yet mo Lo suche grace god sente tho The crysten in to the cyte gone Of golde syluer precyous stone They founde Inowe without fayle Mete and drynke and other vytayle On the morowe whan the kynge arose His dedes were ryche and his lose The sarasynes before hym come And asked hym crystendome There were crysted as I fynde More than twenty thousynde Chyrches he let make of crystes lawe And theyr maumettes all to drawe And tho that wolde not crysten become They were slayne all and some And departed that tresour Amonge crysten with honour Erle baron knyght and knaue Had as moche as they wolde haue Whan this was done I you saye He let his colte vanysshee awaye ¶ How kynge Rycharde and the kynge of fraunce were wrothe togyder / and how the kynge of frauÌ„ wente home to his londe THere they dwelled fourtenyght And afterwarde they them nyght Towarde Iherusalem they gan ryde Kynge Phelyp spake a worde of pryâ—e Iherusalem that fayre cyte That is so fayre and so fre Though thou it wynne it shall be myn By god sayd Rycharde by saynt martyn And as god do my soâ—ue bore Of my wynnynge not halfe a fote I ne shall gyue the no londe I do the well to vnderstonde If thou wylte it haue he sayd then Go now forth wynne it with thy men Myn offrynge quod Rycharde lo it heâ—â— I wyll come Iherusalem no nere And in an arblaste of vyse he benâ—â— A floryn towarde the cyte he sense And that was sygnyfyaunce Ihesu cryste to honouraunce For wrathe became seke the kynge of fraunce His leches he sente after without dystaunce And they sayd neuer he sholde hole ben But he in to fraunce retourned ayen Than his counseyll vnderstode And sayd it was trewe and good Theyr shyppes they dyght more lasâ—â— And wente home at alhalowmasse Kynge Rycharde gan to hym crye And sayd he dyde grete vylanye To wende home for maladly Out of the londe of Surry Tyll done was goddes seruyse For lyfe or deth in ony wyse The kynge of fraunce none other wolde do But in that maner departed so And after that departynge forsoth Euer after they were wrothe ¶ How kynge Rycharde and his men made the walles of a cyte whiche hyght chalens / and how the duke of astryche departed frome hym / bycause of the rebuke he gaue hym bycause he wolde not doo as he dyde / and how kynge Rycharde wan the castell of daron NOw herken of Rycharde the kynge How he wrought with his gynge Kynge Rycharde wente his hoost To Iaffe without ony boost The kynges pauylyon good and fyne They gan dyght with a gryffyne Other lordes gan aboute sprede Theyr pauylyons in fayre mede Kynge Rycharde with his men all Of the cyte let make the wall That neuer was no sarasynes So stronge wrought with byches That castell was stronge
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
wolde not with me stryue I shall me so of hym awreke That all the worlde therof shall speke If Iohn̄ hym crowne that ester tyde Where wyll he me than abyde There is no kynge in crystente Certes that shall his waraunt be I ne may byleue for no nede That my brother wyll do this dede Yes certes sayd the messengere He wyll so do by saynt rychere Kynge Rycharde all this tydynge Helde in herte but lesynge Fro gebolyne forth he wente To betanye a castell gente And slewe theyr many an hethen man And that noble cyte he wan There come other messengers That tolde Rycharde stoute and fyers That Iohn̄ his brother wolde bere Crowne at ester he gan to swere The kynge was lothe to withdrawe his honde Tyll he had I wonne the holy londe And slewe the sowdan with dente of sworde And auenged Ihesu our lorde And he bethought hym after then He wolde leue there his men And with a preuy meyne In to englonde wolde he And apease that warre anone Bytwene hym and his brother Iohn̄ And came agayne in hyenge For to fulfyll his begynnynge And also he thought in his herte A stoute sarasyne gan in sterte That ought kynge Rycharde raunson For the wynnynge of daron He spake to Rycharde apartylyche Amonge his people that were ryche Syr kynge thou shalte me quyte skere And all thyn other hostagere Thorugh thy queyntyse and thy gyn I shall the do grete tresour wyn More than an hondred thousande pounde Florence of golde hole and sounde Of the sarasynes tresore And moche more other store Therto I laye to hostage my lyfe And my chyldren and my wyfe But I do the wynne that praye On an euyll dethe must I daye Kynge Rycharde sayd thou mystruaunt So as thou byleuest on termagaunt Tell me now what folke there is I byleue it is full fayntyse Iwys That ledeth so tresour without iayles Syr there ben fyue hondred camayles And fyue thousande there ben mo Asses and grete mules also That ledeth golde to Salandyn Of grete tresour and of fyne Of whete and of spycerye Of sylke and sendell grete plentye Rycharde sayd so god me deme Is there moche folke that to yeme Ye syr he sayd there ben before Knyghtes rydynge syxty score And after cometh suche ten Of doughty hethen men I herde them speke in theyr rounynge They were aferde of the englysshe kynge Kynge Rycharde sayd that they sholde fynde Though there were twenty thousynde I wolde them mete euerychone Though I were my selfe alone Without helpe of ony man I wolde them flee or quycke tan Do saye me anone ryght Where shall I fynde them to nyght Here besyde myles ten Thou myght fynde the hethen men There they wyll reste and abyde Tyll more folke comeryde Hors and harneys he cryed anone Cure delyon now is tyme to gone Before wente his templers His gascoyens and his hospytalers Hors and men were cryed in hyenge And wente forth with Rycharde our kynge Than sayd the longe spaye vnto the kynge Syr make here thy dwellynge They ben lodged in the towne I wyll go and aspye theyr rowne And brewe them a drynke with wo Now I wyll to them go And tell them that kynge Rycharde Is faste in to englondewarde They wyll me leue with the best And they wyll than go to theyr rest And than syr may ye wende And take them all slepende Fye a deuyll sayd the kynge God gyue the euyll endynge I am no traytour take good kepe To sle men whan they slepe By clere daye vpon the feldes Thou shalte se speres and sheldes Be it erles barons or kynges All they shall haue theyr endynges The sarasyne our kynge Rycharde answereth There is no man in the myddell erth Duke baron ne knyght Is none so hardy ne so wyght Ne none so moche of renowne Well mayst thou be hyght Rycharde cure delyon Therfore I wyll not it forhele There ben of sarasynes twyes so fele As thou hast folke in this countre Sertaynly I warne the Rycharde sayd god gyue me shame Therfore and my herte be lame For one of my crysten men Is worth of sarasynes nyne or ten The more there ben the more shall we slo And awreke Ihesu cryste of his fo Forth wente there a spye after then And aspyed the hethen men He aspyed theyr compassynge And tolde it Rycharde our kynge He cryed hors and harneys thare And dyght them and made them yare Anone lepte the kynge Rycharde On his stede that hyght lyarde His englysshe and his templers They lepte anone on theyr destrers And wente in to the hethen hoost In the name of the holy goost All the sarasynes with one noblaye To the sowdan wolde theyr waye Kynge Rycharde smote them amonge There began a blysfull songe But to term agaunt and to mahowne They cryed helpe to syr plutowne Kynge Rycharde gan downe bere Them thorugh the herte with a spere And so he serued an admyrayle And fyue dukes without fayle Afterwarde his axe he drewe Many an hethen man he slewe Some he cloue vnto the sadell ryght And slewe bothe swayne and knyght A kynge he cloue vnto the arsowne There halpe hym nought mahowne An erle he smote on the yren hode That at the breste the axe withstode There was full many a sarasyne That he sente to hell pyne They destroyed many a stede So swyftely they gan spede His templers and his hospytalers Came there on fayre destrers So longe they fought sayth the storye That they had the vyctorye Thorugh helpe of his crysten knyghtes Styffe in armes stronge in fyghtes And as many he slewe alone As they dyde euerychone And many escaped with dethes wounde That lyued after but a stounde They wolde hym no more mete Rycharde by the waye ne by strete Now may ye here of the wynnynge That wanne Rycharde our kynge Hors of pryce and many a camayle Fyue thousande fyue hondred saunce fayle Syxe hondred hors of grete coursers All charged with ryche tresers That were in cofers faste I bounde With fyne syluer and golde full rounde Mules he had thre thousande and mo That pannes and spyces bare tho And fyue hondred of asse Bare wyne and oyle more lasse And also many of whete rede There Rycharde dyde a noble dede Whan he all that tresour wan He wente home to his man In to betanye that cyte noble With that treasour and with that moble He gaue to hygh and to lowe Of his purches good ynowe He gaue them stedes and coursers So Rycharde parted his purches in fyers Hym betydde a well fayre case Of all crystendome lorde he was Soone after in a lytell stounde There came two messengers of mounde The bysshop of chester was that one That other the abbot of saynt albone And brought letters specyell I sealed with the barons seell They hym tolde that kynge Iohn̄ Wolde do hym the crowne vpon At eester by the comyn dome But ye the rather come home For the kynge of fraunce
herte full of care Well sore than wepte kynge Rycharde Wronge his hondes and tare his barde A Ihesu now thy socour To longe I haue made soiour Now slayne is Roberte mortemere That was erle of leycestere Euery here of hym was worth a knyght And Roberte turnam that was so wyght And syr Brandys and syr Pyttarde That in batayll was wyse and harde And all my good barons The best of all my regyons They ben slayne and all to tore How myght I lenger lyue therfore I myght haue saued all myne If I had comen betyme Certes I shall neuer be blythe man Tyll I be awreked on the sowdan Thus syghed kynge Rycharde aye Tyll it came ayenst the daye A wayte there stode at a cornell And pyped a note with a flagell He ne pyped but one sythe Many an herte he made blythe He loked downe and sawe galyes Kynge Rycharde and his nauyes Shyppe and sayle well he knewe A mery note than he blewe And cryed seygnyours or sus sus Kynge Rycharde is come amonge vs Whan the crysten herde this Theyr hertes became lyght I wys Erles barons squyers and knyght To the walles ranne ryght And sawe kynge Rycharde theyr lorde And welcomed hym with blythe worde And sayd lorde welcome in goddes name All our sorowe is tourned to game Rycharde had neuer in herte Iwys Halfe dele so moche blys Hors and harneys he cryed thare Ayenst the sarasynes for to fare We ne haue lyfe but one Sell we it dere bothe flesshe bonē For to chalenge our herytage Slee we the sarasynes on euyll rage Who so hym douteth for menace Ne se he neuer in goddes face Take me myn axe in myn honde It was made in englonde No more theyr armure I ne doute Than it were a pylche cloute The sothe to saye men shall se Thorugh goddes helpe in trynyte He was the fyrst that on londe dyde lepe Of a dosyn he made an hepe He gan to crye with voyce clere Where ben these hethen pantenere That haue the cyte of Iaffe I nome With my pollaxe I am come For to waraunt that I haue do Wassayll he sayd I drynke you to He layde on I saye you a plyght And slewe the sarasynes downe ryght The sarasynes fledde and wente mate Full faste out at the castell gate In herte they were full of sorowe That them thought the gate to narowe And ranne to the walles of the towne By euery syde they lepte downe And eueryche cryed in this manere Herken now and ye shall here Malkan sterran nayre arbru Loyre fermoyre touz memoru That is for to saye in englysshe The englysshe deuyll I come is And but we flee out of his waye An euyll deth shall we dye to daye They fledde out of the towne anone Therin abode not so moche as one But foure hondred or fyue They were soone brought out of lyue They lepte on theyr destreres And at the gate set porters Kynge Rycharde lepte on fauell Well armed in yren and in stele And rode hym out at the gate The kynge of egypte he mette therate With syxty thousande of sarasynes fers With armes bryght and brode baners Rycharde a duke on the helme hytte Downe to the grounde he hym slytte Another he smote on the yren hode That at his breste his swerde stode His templers and his barons Fared ryght lyke wood lyons And slewe the sarasynes swythe As grasse falleth before the sythe The sarasynes sawe no better wone But fledde awaye euerychone To Salandynes grete hoost That fyftene myle laye in coost Syxty thousande as I you saye The sowdan loste that same daye For theyr armure fared as waxe Ayenst kynge Rychardes axe Many a sarasyne hygh lordynge Yelded them to Rycharde our kynge Rycharde put them in hostage tho There were a thousande prysoners mo The chase lasted swythe longe Tyll the tyme of euensonge Rycharde rode after tyll it was nyght So many of them to deth he dyght That no nombre it may accounte How many of them it wolde amounte Rycharde lefte without the towne And pyght there his pauylyowne And that nyght with mylde herte He comforted his barons smarte And ye shall here on the morowe How there was a daye of sorowe For the gretest batayll I vnderstonde That neuer was in ony londe And ye that this batayll wyll lere Herken now and ye shall here As kynge Rycharde sate at his soupere And gladded his barons with mylde chere And comforted them with ale and wyne Two messengers came frome Salandyn And stode kynge Rycharde before With longe berdes and with hore Of two mules they were a lyght In golde and sylke they were I dyght Eyther helde other by the honde And sayd kynge Rycharde now vnderstonde Our lorde Salandyn the hygh kynge Hath the sente this askynge If that thou were so hardy a knyght That thou durste hym abyde in fyght Tyll to morowe that it daye ware Of blysse thou sholde ben all bare For thy lyfe and for thy barons He wyll not gyue two skalons He wyll the take with strength of hondes For he hath folke of many londes Egyens and of turkye Of moryens and of arabye Basyles and embosyens Well eger knyghtes of defens Egypcyens and of surrye Of ynde moror and of capadocye Of medes and of asclamoyne Of samarye and of babyloyne Two hondred knyghtes without fayle Fyue hondred of amarayle The grounde ne may them vnneth bere The folke that cometh the to dere By our rede do ryght well And tourne agayne to Iaffe castell In safe warde thou myght there be Tyll thou haue sente after thy meyne And yf thou se thou may not stonde Tourne agayne to thyn owne londe In anger Rycharde toke vp a lofe And in his hondes it all to rofe And sayd to that sarasyne God gyue the well euyll pyne And Salandyn your lorde The deuyll hym hange with a corde For your counseyll and your tydynge God gyue you well euyll endynge Now go and saye to Salandyn In despyte of his god appolyn I wyll abyde hym betyme Though he come to morowe or pryme And though I were but my selfe alone I wolde abyde them euerychone And yf the dogge wyll come to me My bollaxe shall his bane be And saye that I hym desyre And all his cursed company in fere Go now and saye to hym thus The curse haue he of swete Ihesus The menssengers wente to Salandyn And all the begynnynge tolde hym Salandyn meruayled than And sayd it was none erthly man He is a deuyll or a saynt His myght founde I neuer faynt Anone he made his ordeynynge For to take Rycharde the kynge Therof Rycharde toke no kepe But all nyght laye and slepe Tyll ayenst the dawnynge Than herde he a shyll cryenge Thorugh goddes grace an aungell of heuen Tho sayd to hym with mylde steuen Aryse and lepe on thy good stede fauell And tourne agayne to Iaffe castell Thou haste slepte longe I nough Thou shalte fynde harde and