That night Kyng Arthure's table round with mighty care ben spread, Ye oder knyghts sate all about, and Arthure at ye heade: Oh, 't was a goodly spectacle to ken that noblesse liege Dispensing hospitality from his commanding siege! Ye pheasant and ye meate of boare, ye haunch of velvet doe, Ye canvass hamme he them did serve, and many good things moe. Until at last Kyng Arthure cried: "Let bring my wassail cup, And let ye sound of joy go round,--I'm going to set 'em up! I've pipes of Malmsey, May-wine, sack, metheglon, mead, and sherry, Canary, Malvoisie, and Port, swete Muscadelle and perry; Rochelle, Osey, and Romenay, Tyre, Rhenish, posset too, With kags and pails of foaming ales of brown October brew. To wine and beer and other cheere I pray you now despatch ye, And for ensample, wit ye well, sweet sirs, I'm looking at ye!" Unto which toast of their liege lord ye oders in ye party Did lout them low in humble wise and bid ye same drink hearty. So then ben merrisome discourse and passing plaisaunt cheere, And Arthure's tales of hippogriffs ben mervaillous to heare; But stranger far than any tale told of those knyghts of old Ben those facetious narratives ye Western straunger told. He told them of a country many leagues beyond ye sea Where evereche forraine nuisance but ye Chinese man ben free, And whiles he span his monstrous yarns, ye ladies of ye court Did deem ye listening thereunto to be right plaisaunt sport; And whiles they listened, often he did squeeze a lily hande, Ye which proceeding ne'er before ben done in Arthure's lande; And often wank a sidelong wink with either roving eye, Whereat ye ladies laughen so that they had like to die. But of ye damosels that sat around Kyng Arthure's table He liked not her that sometime ben ron over by ye cable, Ye which full evil hap had harmed and marked her person so That in a passing wittie jest he dubbeth her ye crow. But all ye oders of ye girls did please him passing well And they did own him for to be a proper seeming swell; And in especial Guinevere esteemed him wondrous faire, Which had made Arthure and his friend, Sir Launcelot, to sware But that they both ben so far gone with posset, wine, and beer, They colde not see ye carrying-on, nor neither colde not heare; For of eche liquor Arthure quafft, and so did all ye rest, Save only and excepting that smooth straunger from the West. When as these oders drank a toast, he let them have their fun With divers godless mixings, but _he_ stock to willow run, Ye which (and all that reade these words sholde profit by ye warning) Doth never make ye head to feel like it ben swelled next morning. Now, wit ye well, it so befell that when the night grew dim, Ye Kyng was carried from ye hall with a howling jag on him, Whiles Launcelot and all ye rest that to his highness toadied Withdrew them from ye banquet-hall and sought their couches loaded.