And whanne La Beale Alys sawe hym juste soo wel, she thought hym a
passynge goodly knyght on horsbak. And thenne she lepte out of her
pauelione, and toke Syr Alisandre by the brydel, and thus she sayd;
Fayre knyght, I require the of thy knyghthode, shewe me thy vysage.
I dar wel, sayd Sir Alysander shewe my vysage. And then he put of
his helme, and she sawe his vysage, she said; O swete Jhesu! the I
must loue and neuer other. Thenne shewe me your vysage, said he.
Thenne she unwympeled her vysage. And whanne he saw her, he sayde,
here haue I fond my loue and my lady. Truly fayre lady, said he, I
promise yow to be your knyghte, and none other that bereth the lyf.
Now, gentil knyghte, said she, telle me your name. My name is, said
he, Alysander le Orphelyn. Now damoysel, telle me your name, said
he. My name is, said she, Alys la Beale Pilggrym. And whan we be
more at oure hertes ease both ye and I shalle telle other of what
blood we be come. Soo there was grete loue betwyxe them. And as
they thus talked, ther came a knyghte that hyght Harsouse le
Berbuse, and axed parte of sir Alysanders speres. Thenne Sir
Alysander encountred with hym, and at the fyrst Sir Alysander smote
hym ouer his hors croupe.
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