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house and right rich. In the morning, when Messire Gawain had heard mass, the hermit asked him, "Whitherward go you?" and he said, "Toward the land of King Fisherman, and God allow me." "Messire Gawain," saith the hermit, "Now God grant you speed your business better than did the other knight that was there before you, through whom are all the lands fallen into sorrow, and the good King Fisherman languisheth thereof." "Sir," saith Messire Gawain, "God grant me herein to do His pleasure." Thereupon he taketh his leave and goeth his way, and the hermit commendeth him to God. And Messire Gawain rideth on his journeys until he hath left far behind the forest of the hermitage, and findeth the fairest land in the world and the fairest meadowlands that ever had he seen, and it lasted a good couple of great leagues Welsh. And he seeth a high forest before him, and meeteth a squire that came from that quarter, and seeth that he is sore downcast and right simple. "Fair friend," saith Messire Gawain, "Whence come you?" "Sir," saith he, "I come from yonder forest down below." "Whose man are you?" saith Messire Gawain. "I belong to the worshipful man that owneth the forest." "You seem not over joyful," saith Messire Gawain. "Sir, I have right to be otherwise," saith the squire, "For he that loseth his good lord ought not to be joyful." "And who is your lord?" "The best in the world." "Is he dead?" saith Messire Gawain. "Nay, of a truth, for that would be right sore grief to the world, but in joy hath he not been this long time past."