"Now see I well," said Sir Launcelot, "that such a man I might be I might have peace, and such a man I might be there should be between us two mortal war; and now, sir knight, at thy request, I will that thou wit and know that I am Sir Launcelot du Lake, King Ban's son of Berwick, and knight of the Round Table. And now I defy thee do thy best."
"Ah!" said Sir Tarquin. "Launcelot, thou art unto me most welcome, as ever was any knight, for we shall never depart till the one of us be dead."
Then hurtled they together as two wild bulls, rashing and lashing with their shields and swords, that
sometime they fell both on their faces. Thus they fought still two hours and more, and never would rest, and Sir Tarquin gave Sir Launcelot many wounds that all the ground there as they fought was all besprinkled with blood.
Then at last Sir Tarquin waxed very faint, and gave somewhat back, and bare his shield full low for weariness.
That soon espied Sir Launcelot, and then leaped upon him fiercely as a lion, and got him by the banner of his helmet, and as he plucked him down on his knees, and anon he raised his helm, and then he smote his neck asunder.
Sir Launcelot freed all the prisoners from that loathsome prison; and despite his grievous wounds on the third day after he rode forth in quest of further adventures.
As he rode over a long bridge, there started upon him suddenly a passing foul churl, and he smote his horse on the nose that he turned about, and asked him why he rode over that bridge without his license.
"Why should I not ride this way?" said Sir Launcelot. "I may not ride beside."
"Thou shalt not choose," said the churl, and lashed at him with a great club shod with iron. Then Sir Launcelot drew a sword, and put the stroke aback, and clave his head unto the breast.