Who, coming in about two hours after, was no less marked than all the rest before, because he had nothing worth the marking. For he had neither picture nor device, his armour of as old a fashion, besides the rusty poorness, that it might better seem a monument of his grandfather’s courage: about his middle he had, instead of bases, a long cloak of silk, which as unhandsomely, as it needs must, became the wearer, so that all that looked on, measured his length on the earth already, since he had to meet one who had been victorious of so many gallants. But he went on towards the shield, and with a sober grace struck it, but as he let his sword fall upon it, another knight, all in black, came rustling in, who struck the shield almost as soon as he, and so strongly that he broke the shield in two: the ill-apparelled knight, for so the beholders called him, angry with that, as he accounted, insolent injury to himself, hit him such a sound blow that they that looked on said it well became a rude arm. The other answered him again in the same case, so that lances were put to silence, the swords were so busy. {85} But Phalantus, angry of this defacing shield, came upon the black knight, and with the pommel of his sword set fire to his eyes, which presently was revenged, not only by the black, but the ill-apparelled knight, who disdained another should enter into his quarrel, so as, who ever saw a matachin dance to imitate fighting, this was a fight that did imitate the matachin: for they being but three that fought, everyone had two adversaries, striking him, who struck the third, and revenging perhaps that of him which he had received of the other. But Basilius rising himself came to part them, the stickler’s authority scarcely able to persuade choleric hearers; and part them he did.