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palmers through Almayne, are discovered by a minstrel, who, informing the king thereof, they are seized by him, and cast into prison. Whilst there, the king's son, Wardrewe by name, having heard of Richard's great strength, begs the porter to shew him his prisoners, and on seeing Richard, asks him,

Dar'st thou stonde a buffet of my honde
And to morrow I gyue the the leue

Suche another me to gyue. Richard consents, and receives a blow that makes the fire spring from his eyes, and nearly overthrows him.

On the morrowe whan it was daye
Rycharde rose as I you saye
Waxe he toke clere and bryght
And sone a fyre he hym dyght
And wexed his hondes by the fyre
Ouerthwarde and endlonge be you sure
A strawes brede thicke and more

For he thought to smyte sore. Thus prepared, he awaits the arrival of the king's son, who came warde as a trewe man," and stood before him, when Richard dealt him such a blow under his cheek, as “to brake his cheeke bone, that he fell downe dead as ony stone.” This being told to the king and queen, they are overwhelmed with sorrow and rage at the death of Wardrewe, and send for the Jayler to learn in what manner this event had occurred; and threaten vengeance against Richard for the loss of their son. In this distress he is com. forted by the love of the king's daughter, Margery, who visits him in prison, and provides him with food and drink. The king then holds a council of his lords and great men, when a certain knight, Sir Eldrede, advises that a lion, kept without food for three days, should be turned loose


Richard in his chamber. The king's daughter, hearing of this, warns him of his danger, and urges him to fly with her from the country. Richard refuses his consent to this as against the law of the land, but requests her to procure for him

kerchers of sylke

Fourty elles as whyte as mylke, and to bring them into the prison. The result of his combat with the lion is then thus graphically described :

The keuerchefes he toke on honde
And aboute his arme he wonde

And thought in that ylke whyle
To slee the lyon with some gyle.
And syngle in a kyrtyll he stode
And abode the lyon fyers and wode,
With that came the Jaylere
And other men that with him were,
And the lyon them amonge
His pawes were styffe and stronge.
The chambre dore they undone
And the lyon to hym is gone.
Rycharde sayd, helpe lorde Jesu!
The Lyon made to him venu,
And wolde hym haue all to rente;
Kynge Rycharde besyde hym glente
The lyon on the breste hym spurned
That aboute he tourned.
The lyon was hongry and megre,
And bette his tayle to be egre,
He loked about as he were madde
Abrode he all bis pawes spradde.
He cried lowde and yaned wyde
Kynge Rycharde bethought hym that tyde
What hym was best and to hym sterte,
In at the throat his honde he grete
And hente out the herte with his honde,
Lounge and all that he there fonde.
The lyon fell deed to the grounde :
Rycharde felt no wem ne wounde.
He fell on his knees in that place
And thanked Jesu of his grace

That him kept from shame and harme. But this was not the whole of the feat, for to the great astonishment of the king and his assembled court, Richard not only tore out the heart of the lion, but dipping it in the salt which stood on the table, he devoured it raw before their wondering eyes, an act which gave him, afterwards, his peculiar designation of Cæur de Lyon.

He toke the herte also warme
And brought it forth in the hall
Before the kynge and his lordes all :
The kynge at mete sate at the dese,
The erles barons proude in prese
The salte on the table stode
Kyng Rycharde thryste out all the blode

And wette the herte in the salt;
The kynge and his men hym behalte,
Without brede he it gan ete,
The kynge wondred and began to speake,
I wys as I understonde can
This is the deuyll and no man,
He hath my stronge lyon slawe
The herte out of the body drawe
And hath it eten with good wyll
He may be called with good skyll
Crysten kynge moost of renowne
Stronge Rycharde cure du lyowne.

It is well known that Shakespeare had a great love for these early tales and romances, the taste for which had very largely increased among all classes during the reign of Elizabeth; and that several of his plots, and many allusions in his plays, were derived from these attractive sources. Among other tales of romantic fiction with which he was familiar, there is little doubt, from the notice he has taken of this exploit of the lion-hearted Richard in his play of King John, that this early metrical romance occupied a place, along with many other similar legends and ballads, in bis well-stored library. But there is another incident related of King Richard in this work, of a still more remarkable character than that we have just given of his combat with the lion. It appears that, during the siege of Acre, Richard fell sick, and while in that condition longed for some pork, which was not to be procured. The substitute which was prepared in its stead we can only relate in the singular and exact words of the poem:

Sory was the folke Englysshe
For theyr lorde laye in grete anguysshe
For kynge Rychardo laye syke
All about they gan seke
On knees prayed the crysten hoost
To the fader and sone and holy goost
Nyght and daye with good entent
That Rychard myght haue amendement
Thorugh the byddynge of our lady dere
Her blessed sone hearde her prayere
Thorugh his grace and vertue
He tourned out of his ague.
To meto had he no fauour
To wyn no water, ne to no lycour,



But after pork he was a longed
Though all his men sholde be honged
They ne might in that countree
Neyther for golde nor for feo
No porke finde, take, ne gete

That kynge Rycharde myght ete. “A noble knyght" hearing of his desire, goes to the steward privily and tells him to say nothing to any one, but to

Take a sarasyne young and fat
And in haste that did he slawe
And his heed of hym be fawe
And soden full hastely
With good pouder and spycery
And with good saffron of good colour :
Whan kynge Rycharde feeleth the sauour
Out of the ague yf he be wente
Ho shall haue therto good talente
Whan he hath thereof a taste
And eaten a good repast,
And supped of the brothe a sope
And slept therafter and swete a drope
Thorugh goddes helpe and my counsayle
Soone he shall be whole without fayle.

Accordingly the Saracen is taken and slain, and his head, dressed with the powder, spicery, and saffron, is served before the king as pork, who, having eaten heartily thereof, faster than the carver could supply him, and drank of the broth, goes to sleep, and awakes the next morning whole and sound, and perfectly cured. Richard then makes another assault on the city, after which the denouement of the story is thus related;

Whan Rycharde had rested a whyle
A knyght his harness gan unlace
Hym to comfort 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 myne cuylle I am fere
Therewyth serue me at my soupere"
Quod the coke, “ the heed I ne haue.
Than sayd Rychardo “So god me saue

But I see 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 teeth whyte as snawo,
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 upryste
Shall we neuer dye for defaute
Whyle we may in assawte
Slee sarasynes and the flesshe take,
Wesshe, sethe them and bake,
Grawe 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. But even this was surpassed by another horrible feat of a similar kind, which took place soon afterwards. For an embassy having been dispatched by the Soldan to Richard after the siege of Acre, in behalf of the noble Saracens who lay in prison there, Richard invited the ambassadors to a banquet with him, which having been accepted, he gave secret orders to his marshall to strike off the heads of a number of the most distinguished prisoners, and having stripped off the hair, and boiled the heads in a cauldron, to serve them on platters to each guest, with a label of parchment fastened to the forehead of each, containing the name and kindred of the victim.

Serue them in this maner
To lye euery heed in a platter
And brynge them forth in your honde
The vysage upwarde the teethe grenounde
And loke they be nothyngo rawe
His name fastened aboute the brawe
What he myght and of what kyn he bore
And an hote heed bringe me before
As I were well apaydo withall
Taste thereof ete I shall
As it were of tender chyke
For to see how the Sarasyncs it lyke.

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