ted Phaeton, was not half so glorious.

The Norman seeing this young gentleman fettered in the looks of the
ladies drave him out of his _memento_[1] with a shake by the shoulder.
Rosader looking back with an angry frown, as if he had been wakened
from some pleasant dream, discovered to all by the fury of his
countenance that he was a man of some high thoughts: but when they all
noted his youth and the sweetness of his visage, with a general
applause of favors, they grieved that so goodly a young man should
venture in so base an action; but seeing it were to his dishonor to
hinder him from his enterprise, they wished him to be graced with the
palm of victory. After Rosader was thus called out of his _memento_ by
the Norman, he roughly clapped to him with so fierce an encounter,
that they both fell to the ground, and with the violence of the fall
were forced to breathe; in which space the Norman called to mind by
all tokens, that this was he whom Saladyne had appointed him to kill;
which conjecture made him stretch every limb, and try every sinew,
that working his death he might recover the gold which so bountifully
was promised him. On the contrary part, Rosader while he breathed was
not idle, but still cast his eye upon Rosalynde, who to encourage him
with a favor, lent him such an amorous look, as might have made the
most coward desperate: which glance of Rosalynde so fired the
passionate desires of Rosader, that turning to the Norman he ran upon
him and braved him with a strong encounter. The Norman received him as
valiantly, that there was a sore combat, hard to judge on whose side
fortune would be prodigal. At last Rosader, calling to mind the beauty
of his new mistress, the fame of his father's honors, and the disgrace
that should fall to his house by his misfortune, roused himself and
threw the Norman against the ground, falling upon his chest with so
willing a weight, that the Norman yielded nature her due, and Rosader
the victory.

[Footnote 1: musing.]

The death of this champion, as it highly contented the franklin, as a
man satisfied with revenge, so it drew the king and all the peers into
a great admiration,[1] that so young years and so beautiful a
personage should contain such martial excellence; but when they knew
him to be the youngest son of Sir John of Bordeaux, the king rose from
his seat and embraced him, and the peers entreated him with all
favorable courtesy, commending both his valor and his vi