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Book I, 19-20 (Vinaver):
Than the kynge dremed a mervaylous dreme whereof he was sore adrad. (But all thys tyme kynge Arthure knew nat kynge Lottis wyff was his sister.) But thus was the dreme of Arthure: hym thought there was com into hys londe gryffens and serpentes, and hym thought they brent and slowghe all the people in the londe; and than he thought he fought with them and they dud hym grete harme and wounded hym full sore, but at the laste he slew hem. Whan the kynge waked, he was passynge hevy of hys dreme; and so to putte hit oute of thought he made hym redy with many knyghtes to ryde on huntynge. And as sone as he was in the foreste, the kynge say a grete harte before hym. "Thys harte woll I chace," seyde kynge Arthure. And so he spurred hys horse and rode aftir longe, and so be fyne force oftyn he was lyke to have smytten the herte. Wherefore as the kynge had chased the herte so longe that hys horse lost his brethe and felle downe dede, than a yoman fette the kynge another horse. So the kynge was the herte unboced and hys horse dede, he sette hym downe by a fowntayne, and there he felle downe in grete thought. And as he sate so hym thought he herde a noyse of howundis to the som of thirty, and with that the kynge saw com towarde hym the strongeste beste that ever he saw or herde of. So thys beste wente to the welle and dranke, and the noyse was in the bestes bealy lyke unto the questyng of thirty coupyl houndres, but alle the whyle the beest dranke there was no noise in the bestes bealy. And therewith the beeste departed with a grete noyse, whereof the kynge had grete mervayle. And so he was in a grete thought, and therewith he felle on slepe.
At this point Arthur meets Kynge Pellynor who has been hunting "the Questing Beast" for a full twelve months. When Arthur's new horse arrives, Pellynore first requests that Arthur give him the animal so he may continue the chase, and when Arthur refuses, takes the animal by force and "passed on his weye."
Thenne the kynge sat in a study and bade hys men fecche another horse as fast as they myght. Ryght so com by hym Merlyon lyke a chylde of fourtene yere of ayge and salewed the kynge and asked hym shye he was so pensyff. "I may well be pensiff," seyde the kynge, "for I have sene the mervaylist syght that ever I saw." "That know I well," seyde Merlyon, "as welle as thyselff, and of all thy thoughtes. But thou arte a foole to take thought for hit that woll nat amende the. Also I know what thou arte, and who was thy fadir, and of whom thou were begotyn: for kynge Uther was thy fadir and begate the on Igrayne." "That ys false!" seyde kynge Arthure. "How sholdist thou know hit, for thou arte nat so olde of yerys to know my fadir?" "Yes," seyde Merlyon, "I know hit bettir than ye or ony man lyvynge." "I woll nat beleve the," seyde Arthure, and was wrothe with the chylde. So departed Merlyon, and com ayen in the lyknesse of an olde man of four score yere of ayge, whereof the kynge was passynge glad, for he semed to be ryght wyse. Than seyde the olde man, "Why ar ye so sad?" "I may well be sad," seyde Arthure, "for many thynhes. For ryght now there was a chylde here, and tolde me many tynges that mesemyth he sholde nat knowe, for he was nat of ayge to know my fadir." "Yes," seyde the olde man, "the chylde tolde you trouthe, and more he wolde a tolde you and ye wolde a suffirde hym. But ye have done a thynge late that God ys displesed with you, for ye have lyene by youre syster and on hir ye have gotyn a childe that shall destroy you and all the knyghtes of youre realme." "What are ye," seyde Arthure, "that telle me thys tydyngis?" "Sir, I am Merlion, and I was he in the chyldis lycknes." "A," seyde the kynge, "ye are a mervaylous man! But I mervayle muche of thy wordis that I mou dye in batayle." "Mervayle nat," seyde Merlion, "for hit ys Goddis wylle that youre body shoulde be punyssed for your fowle dedis. But I ought ever to be hevy," seyde Merlion, "for i shall dye a shamefull dethe, to be putte in the erthe quycke; and ye shall dey a worshipfull dethe." And as they talked thus, com one with the kyngis horse, and so the kynge mownted on hys horse, and Merlion on anothir, and so rode unto Carlyon.
-- Malory, Sir Thomas. Works. Eugene Vinaver, ed. (London : Oxford U Press, 1966). pp32-35.