N the blessed time when Athelstan wore the crown of the English nation, Sir Guy, Warwick's mirror, and the wonder of all the world, was the chief hero of the age, who in prowess surpassed all his predecessors, and the trump of whose fame so loudly sounded, that Jews, Turks, and Infidels became acquainted with his name.

But as Mars, the God of Battle, was inspired with the beauty of Venus, so our Guy, by no arms conquered, was conquered by love for Felice the Fair; whose beauty and virtue were so inestimable, and shone with such heavenly lustre, that Helen, the pride of all Greece, might seem as a Black-a-moor compared to her.

Guy resolving not to stand doting at a distance, went to Warwick Castle where Felice dwelt, she being daughter and heiress to Roband Earl of Warwick. The Earl, her father, hearing of Guy's coming, bade him heartily welcome, and prepared to entertain him with a match of hunting, but he to that lent an unwilling ear, and to prevent it feigned himself sick. The Earl, troubled for his friend, sent his own physician to him. The doctor told Guy his disease was dangerous, and without letting blood there was no remedy. Guy replied, "I know my body is distempered; but you want skill to cure the inward inflammation of my heart: Galen's Herbal cannot quote the flower I like for my remedy. There is a flower which if I might but touch would heal me. It is called by a pretty pleasing name, and I think PhÆlix soundeth something like it." "I know it not," replied the doctor, "nor is there in the Herbal any flower that beareth such a name, as I remember."

So saying he departed, and left Guy to cast his eyes on the heavenly face of his Felice, as she was walking in a garden full of roses and other flowers.