jured her knee that she became a cripple. When they who had so anxiously inquired after her health during her illness, and had proffered so much formerly, heard this, they slackened their attentions, by degrees became cold and negligent, and when she appeared abroad again, were reserved and polite; full of pity, but out of love. Though the misfortune gave a melancholy turn to her mind, yet she felt not the coldness of any of these people (whom she never could have loved), and passed them over in silence, glad to be released from their besieging importunities. Knowing that heaven doeth as it will, she made herself easy in mind; more especially as she found the affections of those friends who really loved her, grew more delicate and tender; and that she had only lost some of the empty vanity of the world.
Soon after this, the Danes returned to their country, carrying with them some of the English nobility, to whose honour all Denmark assembled. The king ordered them to be entertained with banquets, tournaments, and revels, according to the custom of that time. And now it was that this fair lady felt the sadness of her affliction.
A noble youth, called Claudius, cousin to the prince of Denmark, returned at the same time
