Messire, I
fear me ye are sore hurt. Now tell me, I beseech you, how is it with
you?"

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot declareth his wound._]

Then Sir Launcelot groaned again and he said: "Woe is me! I suffer much
pain." And therewith he made to dismount from his horse and would have
fallen had not Sir Lavaine catched him and upheld him. After that Sir
Lavaine aided Sir Launcelot down from his horse, and Sir Launcelot
leaned against a tree of the forest, groaning as from the bottom of his
soul, and Sir Lavaine wist not what to do to help him. Then Sir
Launcelot turned his eyes, all faint and dim, upon Sir Lavaine, and he
said: "Oh, gentle knight, Sir Lavaine, for the mercy of God I beseech
you to pluck forth the blade of a spear that has pierced into my side,
for I suffer a great pang of torment."

Then Sir Lavaine was aware of what sort was that wound and he made haste
to strip off the body armor from Sir Launcelot. So, when that body armor
was thus removed, Sir Lavaine beheld a grievous wound where the blade of
the spear had pierced deep into the side of Sir Launcelot a little above
the midriff. And Sir Lavaine perceived that the blade of the spear was
yet in the wound and that the hurt was very deep. So beholding that
wound Sir Lavaine wept, and cried out: "Dear my Lord! Woe is me! I dare
not pull out that blade; for an I do so, I dread me sore that you will
die here in the forest ere aid can be brought to you and so it shall be
I who killed you."

"No matter," said Sir Launcelot, speaking very faint and with failing
breath. "Do as I bid you, for the point of that blade lieth near to my
heart and I suffer a great deal of pain from it."

[Sidenote: _Sir Lavaine draweth for the steel._]

Then Sir Lavaine laid hold of the shaft of the spear, and he strove to
draw forth the blade from out Sir Launcelot's side, yet he could not do
so. And thereupon Sir Launcelot cried aloud in a very piercing voice,
"Spare not! Spare not! but pull forth that steel!" So with that Sir
Lavaine plucked again with all his might and he drew the steel forth
from out of the wound. And as the blade came forth from out of the
flesh, Sir Launcelot cried out again in a voice very loud and shrill,
saying, "God! God! that this should be!" And with that a great issue of
blood gushed out of the wound like a crimson fountain and Sir Launcelot
sank down upon the ground in a swoon that was like the swoon of death.

Then Sir Lavaine believed that he had a