Elizabeth was at this moment addressing a few gracious words to a white-haired courtier, who kneeled among those gathered on the right of her line of progress. Startled by the loud cry of the falling knight, she turned swiftly and saw at her feet a man of monstrous girth struggling in vain to raise his unwieldy form. His plumed hat had rolled to some distance, exposing a bald head with two gray tufts over the ears. His sword stood on its hilt, with point in air, and his short, fat legs made quick alternate efforts to bend beneath him—efforts which the fleshy knees successfully resisted.
The helpless, jerking limbs, the broad, rolling body, and the mixture of expletives and frantic apologies poured forth by the prostrate knight turned the Queen's first ready alarm to irrepressible laughter, in which the bystanders joined to their great relief. Droop alone was grave, for he could only see in this accident the ruin of his plans.
"Now, by the rood!" cried the Queen, as soon as she could speak distinctly, "fain would we see your face, good gentleman. Of all our subjects, not one doth us such low obeisance!" Then, beckoning to those of her gentleman pensioners who stood nearest:
"Raise us yon mighty subject of ours, whose greatness we might in our majesty brook but ill did not his humble bearing proclaim a loyal submission."
Four gentlemen, dropping their gilt axes, hastened to Sir Percevall's aid, raising him by the arms and shoulders.
"Enough—enough, lads!" cried the knight, when they had got him to his knees. "Let it not be said that Sir Percevall Hart dared to tempt erect the dreadful glance of majesty. Here let him lowly bend beneath the eyes that erstwhile laid him low."
Still holding him, the four gentlemen turned their eyes to the Queen for orders, and Sir Percevall, clasping his mud-stained hands, addressed himself directly to Elizabeth, in whose still laughing face he foresaw success.
"O Majesty of England!" he cried. "Marvel not at this my sudden fall—for when, with more than royal glory is linked the potency of virgin loveliness, who can withstand!"
"Why, how now, Sir Knight!" said Elizabeth, banteringly. "Are we less lovely or less awful now than a moment since? You seem at least one half restored."
"Nay, your Majesty," was the reply. "'Tis his sovereign's will and high command that stiffens poor Percy's limbs, and in obedience only that he finds strength to present his suit."