At last Sir Tristram said, “In all my life I never met a knight so strong and well-breathed as ye be. It were a pity we should further hurt each other. Hold thy hand, fair knight, and tell me thy name.”
“That will I,” answered he, “if thou wilt tell me thine.”
“My name,” said he, “is Sir Tristram of Lyonesse.”
“And mine, Sir Lamoracke of Gaul.”
Then both cried out together, “Well met;” and Sir Lamoracke said, “Sir, for your great renown, I will that ye have all the worship of this battle, and therefore will I yield me unto you.” And therewith he took his sword by the point to yield him.
“Nay,” said Sir Tristram, “ye shall not do so, for well I know ye do it of courtesy, and not of dread.” And therewith he offered his sword to Sir Lamoracke, saying, “Sir, as an overcome knight, I yield me unto you as unto the man of noblest powers I have ever met with.”
“Hold,” said Sir Lamoracke, “let us now swear together nevermore to fight against each other.”
Then did they swear as he said.
Then Sir Tristram returned to Sir Kay Hedius, and when he was whole of his wounds, they departed together in a ship, and landed on the coast of Cornwall. And when they came ashore, Sir Tristram eagerly sought news of La Belle Isault. And one told him in mistake that she was dead. Whereat, for sore and grievous sorrow, he fell down in a swoon, and so lay for three days and nights.