Whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone and anvil is rightwise king born of all England.
What, nephew, said the king, is the wind in that door?
The month of May was come, when every lusty heart beginneth to blossom, and to bring forth fruit.
Through this same man and me hath all this war been wrought, and the death of the most noblest knights of the world; for through our love that we have loved together is my most noble lord slain.
For as well as I have loved thee heretofore, mine heart will not serve now to see thee; for through thee and me is the flower of kings and knights destroyed.
And much more am I sorrier for my good knights' loss than for the loss of my fair queen; for queens I might have enough, but such a fellowship of good knights shall never be together in no company.
