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“1.14 Sir Gawain and the Green Knight” in “Part 1 - The Middle Ages” on OpenALG\nPart 1 - The Middle Ages: 1.14 Sir Gawain and the Green Knight\nPart 1 - The Middle Ages\n1.14 Sir Gawain and the Green Knight\nLate fourteenth century\n1.14.1 Suggested Reading\n1.14.2 Sir Gawain and the Green Knight\nFYTTE THE FOURTH.\n1.14.3 Reading and Review Questions\nLike Beowulf, Judith, and others, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight survives in only one manuscript, which contains three additional poems: Pearl, Patience, and Purity. We know almost nothing about the anonymous author. The remarkably detailed account of the hunt found in Gawain has led some scholars to believe that the author might have been attached in some way to a nobleman’s household. The poet’s fascination with courtly behavior in Gawain goes hand-in-hand with the religious imagery, such as the portrait of the Virgin Mary painted on the inside of Gawain’s shield. It is possible that he was some kind of secular cleric, perhaps in some kind of secretarial or administrative job.1 One of the few details that we know with certainty about the author is that his dialect comes from the Midlands of England, right along the northern border with Wales. Since Gawain finds both Sir Bertilak’s castle and the nearby Green Chapel in that exact area, it is reasonable to think that the author was from there.\nThe poem is organized into four parts, or fitts, which explore the tensions among the three main duties of Sir Gawain as a knight: loyalty to his lord (in this case, also his kin), proper courtly behavior (especially to women), and devotion to God. As with many medieval stories, anachronisms abound; Gawain wears the best Norman armor to be had in the fourteenth century, although the story is set much earlier, and the castle furnishings are up-to-date, complete with tapestries from Turkistan (line 858). The Gawain poem contains remarkable imagery (the change of seasons at the beginning of Part Two, or Fitt Two, is a good example) and a parallel plot in Part Three that is constructed perfectly (with a literal hunt outside and a figurative hunt inside).\nThe poem begins and ends with a reference to the fall of Troy; the first stanza follows the westward journey of certain Trojans, first to Rome and finally to Britain, with a reference to King Arthur’s court. Considering the amount of parallelism in the rest of the poem, it sets up a pattern: Troy falls because of corruption from within (the poem mentions the “traitor” in line 3); Rome falls because of corruption from within; and as the original audience already knew, Arthur’s court falls because of corruption from within. Considering that the story takes place when Arthur is still young, the emphasis on its future fall is surprising, and it reminds the reader to look for the cracks in the foundation that already exist. As described in the story, Arthur’s court bears more than a passing resemblance to the Norman royal court; considering that Richard II was deposed not long after this poem was written, the poem could be both a warning and somewhat prophetic.\nImage 1.12 | Sir Gawain and the Green Knight\nArtist | Unknown\nLicense | Public Domain\nThe style and themes of the poem do nothing to contradict this hypothesis. The author uses unrhymed alliteration in the style of earlier Anglo-Saxon literature (which was considered old-fashioned by this point, and certainly was not in style in the Norman court), along with a five-line rhymed “bob and wheel” section at the end of each stanza. The description of the Green Knight is reminiscent of the Celtic Green Man stories; the holly branch is Christmas-related, but also another Celtic reference (holly was sacred to the Druids); the ax he carries at the feast is reminiscent of a Saxon battle ax (the battle of Hastings came down to Saxons with battle axes versus Norman cavalry). Near the end of the poem, there is an extended reference to Morgan le Fay, Arthur’s half-sister, whom the Green Knight calls “Morgan the Goddess” (line 2454), linking her to the Celtic goddess Morrigan.\nThe pro-Saxon/Celtic angle (which certainly fits the author’s location) becomes even more likely when examining Arthur’s court. Richard II was criticized for a variety of issues, including financial excesses and giving titles to flatterers and sycophants. When Gawain has left to search out the Green Knight, the court says that if he had not foolishly stepped forward, he would in time have been dubbed a duke, rather than beheaded because he was arrogant (lines 674-683). In other words, they belittle his “arrogance” at stepping forward to save the king, which they certainly would not have done, since inaction and cowardice evidently lead to promotion. Gawain’s bravery and nobility appear to be lost on the court. Their reactions at the end of the story are questionable as well, since they turn a reminder of Gawain’s one small flaw (which must be annoying to people who have many) into a meaningless fashion statement.\nThe fact that it is Gawain, and not Lancelot, who is the greatest knight of Arthur’s court is also a throwback to earlier Welsh traditions. Lancelot is mentioned only once, in the middle of a list of knights, but he is there—a reminder to the original audience that Lancelot and Guinevere are the reason that Arthur’s court will fall. (The fact that Morgan was exiled from the court by Guinevere for adultery makes Morgan’s message to the queen potentially a threat, since Gawain tells a story of how he resists adultery, while Guinevere does not.) Historically, Gawain was one of Arthur’s best warriors going back to the earliest stories. Chrétien de Troyes added Lancelot as the queen’s lover (and the greatest knight) in the eleventh century, and as Lancelot’s fame grew, Gawain’s star (and reputation) had declined. By making Gawain once again the center of the court, the author is reasserting a Celtic/British tradition over the recent French alterations.\nArmitage, Simon, translator. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Norton, 2007.\nBorroff, Marie, translator. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Edited by Marie Borroff and Laura L.\nHowes. Norton Critical Edition. Norton, 2010.\nPutter, Ad. An Introduction to the Gawain-Poet. Longman, 1996.\nTolkien, J.R.R., and E.V. Gordon, editors. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. 2nd edition edited by Norman Davis. Middle English version. Oxford UP, 1967.\nSiþen þe sege & þe assaut watz sesed at Troye,\nÞe bor3 brittened & brent to bronde3 & askez,\nHit watz Ennias þe athel, & his highe kynde,\n& neuenes hit his aune nome, as hit now hat;\nTicius to Tuskan [turnes,] & teldes bigynnes;\nLangaberde in Lumbardie lyftes vp homes;\n& fer ouer þe French flod Felix Brutus\nOn mony bonkkes ful brode Bretayn he settez,\nWhere werre, & wrake, & wonder,\nBi syþez hatz wont þer-inne,\n& oft boþe blysse & blunder\nFul skete hatz skyfted synne.\nAnde quen þis Bretayn watz bigged bi þis burn rych,\nBolde bredden þerinne, baret þat lofden,\nIn mony turned tyme tene þat wro3ten;\nMo ferlyes on þis folde han fallen here oft\nÞen in any oþer þat I wot, syn þat ilk tyme.\nOf all Britain’s kings Arthur was the noblest.\nBot of alle þat here bult of Bretaygne kynges\nAy watz Arthur þe hendest; as I haf herde telle;\nForþi an aunter in erde I attle to schawe,\nÞat a selly in si3t summe men hit holden,\n& an outtrage awenture of Arthurez wonderez;\nIf 3e wyl lysten þis laye bot on littel quile,\nI schal telle hit, as-tit, as I in toun herde,\nAs hit is stad & stoken,\nIn stori stif & stronge,\nWith lel letteres loken,\nIn londe so hatz ben longe.\nÞis kyng lay at Camylot vpon kryst-masse,\nwith all the knights of the Round Table,\nWith rych reuel ory3t, & rechles merþes;\nÞer tournayed tulkes bitymez ful mony,\nIusted ful Iolilé þise gentyle kni3tes,\nSyþen kayred to þe court, caroles to make.\nWith alle þe mete & þe mirþe þat men couþe a-vyse;\nSuch glaumande gle glorious to here,\nDere dyn vp-on day, daunsyng on ny3tes,\nAl watz hap vpon he3e in hallez & chambrez,\nWith lordez & ladies, as leuest him þo3t;\nÞe most kyd kny3tez vnder kryste seluen,\n& þe louelokkest ladies þat euer lif haden,\n& he þe comlokest kyng þat þe court haldes;\nKyng hy3est mon of wylle,\nSo hardy a here on hille.\nWyle nw 3er watz so 3ep þat hit watz nwe cummen,\nÞat day doubble on þe dece watz þe douth serued,\nFro þe kyng watz cummen with kny3tes in to þe halle,\nÞe chauntre of þe chapel cheued to an ende;\nLoude crye watz þer kest of clerkez & oþer,\nNowel nayted o-newe, neuened ful ofte;\n& syþen riche forth runnen to reche honde-selle,\n3e3ed 3eres 3iftes on hi3, 3elde hem bi hond,\nDebated busyly aboute þo giftes;\nLadies la3ed ful loude, þo3 þay lost haden,\n& he þat wan watz not wrothe, þat may 3e wel trawe.\nAlle þis mirþe þay maden to þe mete tyme;\nWhen þay had waschen, worþyly þay wenten to sete,\nÞe best burne ay abof, as hit best semed;\nWhene Guenore ful gay, grayþed in þe myddes.\nDressed on þe dere des, dubbed al aboute,\nOf tryed Tolouse, of Tars tapites in-noghe,\nÞat were enbrawded & beten wyth þe best gemmes,\nÞat my3t be preued of prys wyth penyes to bye,\nÞe comlokest to discrye,\nÞer glent with y3en gray,\nA semloker þat euer he sy3e,\nSoth mo3t no mon say.\nBot Arthure wolde not ete til al were serued,\nHe watz so Ioly of his Ioyfnes, & sum-quat child gered,\nHis lif liked hym ly3t, he louied þe lasse\nAuþer to lenge lye, or to longe sitte,\nSo bi-sied him his 3onge blod & his brayn wylde;\n& also anoþer maner meued him eke,\nÞat he þur3 nobelay had nomen, ho wolde neuer ete\nVpon such a dere day, er hym deuised were\nOf sum auenturus þyng an vncouþe tale,\nOf sum mayn meruayle, þat he my3t trawe,\nOf alderes, of armes, of oþer auenturus,\nOþer sum segg hym bi-so3t of sum siker kny3t,\nTo Ioyne wyth hym in iustyng in Iopardé to lay,\nLede lif for lyf, leue vchon oþer,\nAs fortune wolde fulsun hom þe fayrer to haue.\nÞis watz [þe] kynges countenaunce where he in court were,\nAt vch farand fest among his fre meny,\nÞerfore of face so fere.\nHe sti3tlez stif in stalle,\nFul 3ep in þat nw 3ere,\nMuch mirthe he mas with alle.\nThus þer stondes in stale þe stif kyng his-seluen,\nTalkkande bifore þe hy3e table of trifles ful hende\nThere gode Gawan watz grayþed, Gwenore bisyde\n& Agrauayn a la dure mayn on þat oþer syde sittes\nBoþe þe kynges sister sunes, & ful siker kni3tes;\nBischop Bawdewyn abof biginez þe table,\n& Ywan, Vryn son, ette wit hym-seluen;\nÞise were di3t on þe des, & derworþly serued,\n& siþen mony siker segge at þe sidbordez.\nÞen þe first cors come with crakkyng of trumpes,\nWyth mony baner ful bry3t, þat þer-bi henged,\nNwe nakryn noyse with þe noble pipes,\nWylde werbles & wy3t wakned lote,\nÞat mony hert ful hi3e hef at her towches;\nDayntes dryuen þer-wyth of ful dere metes,\nFoysoun of þe fresche, & on so fele disches,\nÞat pine to fynde þe place þe peple bi-forne\nFor to sette þe syluener, þat sere sewes halden,\nIche lede as he loued hym-selue\nÞer laght with-outen loþe,\nAy two had disches twelue,\nGood ber, & bry3t wyn boþe.\nNow wyl I of hor seruise say yow no more,\nFor veh wy3e may wel wit no wont þat þer were;\nAn oþer noyse ful newe ne3ed biliue,\nÞat þe lude my3t haf leue lif-lode to cach.\nFor vneþe watz þe noyce not a whyle sesed,\n& þe fyrst cource in þe court kyndely serued,\nÞer hales in at þe halle dor an aghlich mayster,\nOn þe most on þe molde on mesure hyghe;\nFro þe swyre to þe swange so sware & so þik,\n& his lyndes & his lymes so longe & so grete,\nHalf etayn in erde I hope þat he were.\nBot mon most I algate mynn hym to bene,\n& þat þe myriest in his muckel þat my3t ride;\nFor of bak & of brest al were his bodi sturne,\nBot his wombe & his wast were worthily smale,\n& alle his fetures fol3ande, in forme þat he hade,\n& oueral enker grene.\nAnde al grayþed in grene þis gome & his wedes,\nA strayt cote ful stre3t, þat stek on his sides,\nA mere mantile abof, mensked with-inne,\nWith pelure pured apert þe pane ful clene,\nWith blyþe blaunner ful bry3t, & his hod boþe,\nÞat watz la3t fro his lokke3, & layde on his schulderes\nHeme wel haled, hose of þat same grene,\nÞat spenet on his sparlyr, & clene spures vnder,\nOf bry3t golde, vpon silk bordes, barred ful ryche\n& scholes vnder schankes, þere þe schalk rides;\n& alle his vesture uerayly watz clene verdure,\nBoþe þe barres of his belt & oþer blyþe stones,\nÞat were richely rayled in his aray clene,\nAboutte hymself & his sadel, vpon silk werkez,\nÞat were to tor for to telle of tryfles þe halue,\nÞat were enbrauded abof, wyth bryddes & fly3es,\nWith gay gaudi of grene, þe golde ay in myddes;\nÞe pendauntes of his payttrure, þe proude cropure\nHis molaynes, & alle þe metail anamayld was þenne\nÞe steropes þat he stod on, stayned of þe same,\n& his arsounz al after, & his aþel sturtes,\nÞat euer glemered1 & glent al of grene stones.\nÞe fole þat he ferkkes on, fyn of þat ilke, sertayn;\nA grene hors gret & þikke,\nA stede ful stif to strayne,\nIn brawden brydel quik,\nTo þe gome he watz ful gayn.\nWel gay watz þis gome gered in grene,\n& þe here of his hed of his hors swete;\nFayre fannand fax vmbe-foldes his schulderes;\nHis great beard, like a bush, hung on his breast.\nA much berd as a busk ouer his brest henges,\nÞat wyth his hi3lich here, þat of his hed reches,\nWatz euesed al vmbetorne, abof his elbowes,\nÞat half his armes þer vnder were halched in þe wyse\nOf a kyngez capados, þat closes his swyre.\nThe horse’s mane was decked with golden threads.\nÞe mane of þat mayn hors much to hit lyke\nWel cresped & cemmed wyth knottes ful mony,\nFolden in wyth fildore aboute þe fayre grene,\nAy a herle of þe here, an oþer of golde;\nIts tail was bound with a green band.\nÞe tayl & his toppyng twynnen of a sute,\n& bounden boþe wyth a bande of a bry3t grene,\nDubbed wyth ful dere stonez, as þe dok lasted,\nSyþen þrawen wyth a þwong a þwarle knot alofte,\nÞer mony bellez ful bry3t of brende golde rungen.\nSuch a fole vpon folde, ne freke þat hym rydes,\nWatz neuer sene in þat sale wyth sy3t er þat tyme,\nHe loked as layt so ly3t,\nSo sayd al þat hym sy3e,\nIt seemed that no man might endure his dints.\nHit semed as no mon my3t,\nVnder his dynttez dry3e.\nWheþer hade he no helme ne hawb[e]rgh nauþer,\nNe no pysan, ne no plate þat pented to armes,\nNe no schafte, ne no schelde, to schwne ne to smyte,\nBot in his on honde he hade a holyn bobbe,\nÞat is grattest in grene, when greuez ar bare,\n& an ax in his oþer, a hoge & vn-mete,\nA spetos sparþe to expoun in spelle quo-so my3t;\nÞe hede of an eln3erde þe large lenkþe hade,\nÞe grayn al of grene stele & of golde hewen,\nÞe bit burnyst bry3t, with a brod egge,\nAs wel schapen to schere as scharp rasores;\nÞe stele of a stif staf þe sturne hit bi-grypte,\nÞat watz wounden wyth yrn to þe wandez ende,\n& al bigrauen with grene, in gracios werkes;\nA lace lapped aboute, þat louked at þe hede,\n& so after þe halme halched ful ofte,\nWyth tryed tasselez þerto tacched in-noghe,\nOn botounz of þe bry3t grene brayden ful ryche.\nÞis haþel heldez hym in, & þe halle entres,\nDriuande to þe he3e dece, dut he no woþe,\nHaylsed he neuer one, bot he3e he ouer loked.\nÞe fyrst word þat he warp, “wher is,” he sayd,\n“Þe gouernour of þis gyng? gladly I wolde\nSe þat segg in sy3t, & with hym self speke raysoun.”\nTo kny3tez he kest his y3e,\n& reled hym vp & doun,\nHe stemmed & con studie,\nQuo walt þer most renoun.\nTher watz lokyng on lenþe, þe lude to be-holde,\nFor vch mon had meruayle quat hit mene my3t,\nÞat a haþel & a horse my3t such a hwe lach,\nAs growe grene as þe gres & grener hit semed,\nÞen grene aumayl on golde lowande bry3ter;\nAl studied þat þer stod, & stalked hym nerre,\nWyth al þe wonder of þe worlde, what he worch schulde.\nFor fele sellyez had þay sen, bot such neuer are,\nFor-þi for fantoum & fayry3e þe folk þere hit demed;\nÞerfore to answare watz ar3e mony aþel freke,\n& al stouned at his steuen, & stonstil seten,\nIn a swoghe sylence þur3 þe sale riche\nAs al were slypped vpon slepe so slaked hor lotez\nI deme hit not al for doute,\nBot sum for cortaysye,\nBot let hym þat al schulde loute,\nCast vnto þat wy3e.\nÞenn Arþour bifore þe hi3 dece þat auenture byholdez,\n& rekenly hym reuerenced, for rad was he neuer,\n& sayde, “wy3e, welcum iwys to þis place,\nÞe hede of þis ostel Arthour I hat,\nLi3t luflych adoun, & lenge, I þe praye,\n& quat so þy wylle is, we schal wyt after.”\n“Nay, as help me,” quod þe haþel, “he þat on hy3e syttes,\nTo wone any quyle in þis won, hit watz not myn ernde;\nBot for þe los of þe lede is lyft vp so hy3e,\n& þy bur3 & þy burnes best ar holden,\nStifest vnder stel-gere on stedes to ryde,\nÞe wy3test & þe worþyest of þe worldes kynde,\nPreue for to play wyth in oþer pure laykez;\n& here is kydde cortaysye, as I haf herd carp,\n& þat hatz wayned me hider, Iwyis, at þis tyme.\n3e may be seker bi þis braunch þat I bere here,\nÞat I passe as in pes, & no ply3t seche;\nFor had I founded in fere, in fe3tyng wyse,\nI haue a hauberghe at home & a helme boþe,\nA schelde, & a scharp spere, schinande bry3t,\nAnde oþer weppenes to welde, I wene wel als,\nBot for I wolde no were, my wedez ar softer.\nBot if þou be so bold as alle burnez tellen,\nÞou wyl grant me godly þe gomen þat I ask,\nArthour con onsware,\n& sayd, “sir cortays kny3t,\nIf þou craue batayl bare,\nHere faylez þou not to fy3t.”\n“Nay, frayst I no fy3t, in fayth I þe telle,\nHit arn aboute on þis bench bot berdlez chylder;\nIf I were hasped in armes on a he3e stede,\nHere is no mon me to mach, for my3tez so wayke.\nFor-þy I craue in þis court a crystmas gomen,\nFor hit is 3ol & nwe 3er, & here ar 3ep mony;\nIf any so hardy in þis hous holdez hymseluen,\nBe so bolde in his blod, brayn in hys hede,\nÞat dar stifly strike a strok for an oþer,\nI schal gif hym of my gyft þys giserne ryche,\nÞis ax, þat is heué in-nogh, to hondele as hym lykes,\n& I schal bide þe fyrst bur, as bare as I sitte.\nIf any freke be so felle to fonde þat I telle,\nLepe ly3tly me to, & lach þis weppen,\nI quit clayme hit for euer, kepe hit as his auen,\n& I schal stonde hym a strok, stif on þis flet,\nEllez þou wyl di3t me þe dom to dele hym an oþer,\n& 3et gif hym respite,\nA twelmonyth & a day;—\nNow hy3e, & let se tite\nDar any her-inne o3t say.”\nIf he hem stowned vpon fyrst, stiller were þanne\nAlle þe hered-men in halle, þe hy3 & þe lo3e;\nÞe renk on his rounce hym ruched in his sadel,\n& runisch-ly his rede y3en he reled aboute,\nBende his bresed bro3ez, blycande grene,\nWayued his berde for to wayte quo-so wolde ryse.\nWhen non wolde kepe hym with carp he co3ed ful hy3e,\nAnde rimed hym ful richley, & ry3t hym to speke: “\nWhat, is þis Arþures hous,” quod þe haþel þenne,\n“Þat al þe rous rennes of, þur3 ryalmes so mony?\nWhere is now your sourquydrye & your conquestes,\nYour gry[n]del-layk, & your greme, & your grete wordes?\nNow is þe reuel & þe renoun of þe rounde table\nOuer-walt wyth a worde of on wy3es speche;\nFor al dares for drede, with-oute dynt schewed!”\nWyth þis he la3es so loude, þat þe lorde greued;\nÞe blod schot for scham in-to his schyre face & lere;\nHe wex as wroth as wynde,\nSo did alle þat þer were\nÞe kyng as kene bi kynde,\nÞen stod þat stif mon nere.\nAnde sayde, “haþel, by heuen þyn askyng is nys,\n& as þou foly hatz frayst, fynde þe be-houes;\nI know no gome þat is gast of þy grete wordes.\nGif me now þy geserne, vpon godez halue,\n& I schal bayþen þy bone, þat þou boden habbes.”\nLy3tly lepez he hym to, & la3t at his honde;\nÞen feersly þat oþer freke vpon fote ly3tis.\nNow hatz Arthure his axe, & þe halme grypez,\n& sturnely sturez hit aboute, þat stryke wyth hit þo3t.\nÞe stif mon hym bifore stod vpon hy3t,\nHerre þen ani in þe hous by þe hede & more;\nWyth sturne schere þer he stod, he stroked his berde,\n& wyth a countenaunce dry3e he dro3 doun his cote,\nNo more mate ne dismayd for hys mayn dintez,\nÞen any burne vpon bench hade bro3t hym to drynk of wyne,\nGawan, þat sate bi þe quene,\nTo þe kyng he can enclyne,\n“I be-seche now with sa3ez sene,\nÞis melly mot be myne.”\n“Wolde 3e, worþilych lorde,” quod Gawan to þe kyng,\n“Bid me bo3e fro þis benche, & stonde by yow þere,\nÞat I wyth-oute vylanye my3t voyde þis table,\n& þat my legge lady lyked not ille,\nI wolde com to your counseyl, bifore your cort ryche.\nFor me þink hit not semly, as hit is soþ knawen,\nÞer such an askyng is heuened so hy3e in your sale,\nÞa33e 3our-self be talenttyf to take hit to your-seluen,\nWhil mony so bolde yow aboute vpon bench sytten,\nÞat vnder heuen, I hope, non ha3er er of wylle,\nNe better bodyes on bent, þer baret is rered;\nI am þe wakkest, I wot, and of wyt feblest,\n& lest lur of my lyf, quo laytes þe soþe,\nBot for as much as 3e ar myn em, I am only to prayse,\nNo bounté bot your blod I in my bodé knowe;\n& syþen þis note is so nys, þat no3t hit yow falles,\n& I haue frayned hit at yow fyrst, foldez hit to me,\n& if I carp not comlyly, let alle þis cort rych, bout blame.”\nRyche to-geder con roun,\n& syþen þay redden alle same,\nTo ryd þe kyng wyth croun,\n& gif Gawan þe game.\nÞen comaunded þe kyng þe kny3t for to ryse;\n& he ful radly vp ros, & ruchched hym fayre,\nKneled doun bifore þe kyng, & cachez þat weppen;\n& he luflyly hit hym laft, & lyfte vp his honde,\n& gef hym goddez blessyng, & gladly hym biddes\nÞat his hert & his honde schulde hardi be boþe.\n“Kepe þe cosyn,” quod þe kyng, “þat þou on kyrf sette,\n& if þou redez hym ry3t, redly I trowe,\nÞat þou schal byden þe bur þat he schal bede after.\nGawan gotz to þe gome, with giserne in honde,\n& he baldly hym bydez, he bayst neuer þe helder\nÞen carppez to sir Gawan þe kny3t in þe grene,\n“Refourme we oure for-wardes, er we fyrre passe.\nFyrst I eþe þe, haþel, how þat þou hattes,\nÞat þou me telle truly, as I tryst may?”\n“In god fayth,” quod þe goode kny3t, “Gawan I hatte,\nÞat bede þe þis buffet, quatso bi-fallez after,\n& at þis tyme twelmonyth take at þe anoþer,\nWyth what weppen so1 þou wylt, & wyth no wy3 elle3, on lyue.”\nÞat oþer on-swarez agayn,\n“Sir Gawan, so mot I þryue,\nAs I am ferly fayn.\nÞis dint þat þou schal dryue.”\n“Bigog,” quod þe grene kny3t, “sir Gawan, melykes,\nÞat I schal fange at þy fust þat I haf frayst here;\n& þou hatz redily rehersed, bi resoun ful trwe,\nClanly al þe couenaunt þat I þe kynge asked,\nSaf þat þou schal siker me, segge, bi þi trawþe,\nÞat þou schal seche me þi-self, whereso þou hopes\nI may be funde vpon folde, & foch þe such wages\nAs þou deles me to day, bifore þis douþe ryche.”\n“Where schulde I wale þe,” quod Gauan, “where is þy place?\nI wot neuer where þou wonyes, bi hym þat me wro3t,\nNe I know not þe, kny3t, þy cort, ne þi name.\nBot teche me truly þer-to, & telle me howe þou hattes,\n& I schal ware alle my wyt to wynne me þeder,\n& þat I swere þe for soþe, & by my seker traweþ.”\n“Þat is in-nogh in nwe 3er, hit nedes no more,”\nQuod þe gome in þe grene to Gawan þe hende,\n“3if I þe telle trwly, quen I þe tape haue,\n& þou me smoþely hatz smyten, smartly I þe teche\nOf my hous, & my home, & myn owen nome,\nÞen may þou frayst my fare, & forwardez holde,\n& if I spende no speche, þenne spedez þou þe better,\nFor þou may leng in þy londe, & layt no fyrre, bot slokes;\nTa now þy grymme tole to þe,\n& let se how þou cnokez.”\n“Gladly sir, for soþe,”\nQuod Gawan; his ax he strokes.\nThe grene kny3t vpon grounde grayþely hym dresses,\nA littel lut with þe hede, þe lere he discouerez,\nHis longe louelych lokkez he layd ouer his croun.\nLet þe naked nec to þe note schewe.\nGauan gripped to his ax, & gederes hit on hy3t,\nÞe kay fot on þe folde he be-fore sette,\nLet hit doun ly3tly ly3t on þe naked,\nÞat þe scharp of þe schalk schyndered þe bones,\n& schrank þur3 þe schyire grece, & scade hit in twynne,\nÞat þe bit of þe broun stel bot on þe grounde.\nÞe fayre hede fro þe halce hit [felle] to þe erþe,\nÞat fele hit foyned wyth her fete, þere hit forth roled;\nÞe blod brayd fro þe body, þat blykked on þe grene;\n& nawþer faltered ne fel þe freke neuer þe helder,\nBot styþly he start forth vpon styf schonkes,\n& ru[n]yschly he ra3t out, þere as renkkez stoden,\nLa3t to his lufly hed, & lyft hit vp sone;\n& syþen bo3ez to his blonk, þe brydel he cachchez,\nSteppez in to stel bawe & strydez alofte,\n& his hede by þe here in his honde haldez;\n& as sadly þe segge hym in his sadel sette,\nAs non vnhap had hym ayled, þa3 hedlez he we[re], in stedde;\nHe brayde his bluk aboute,\nÞat vgly bodi þat bledde,\nMoni on of hym had doute,\nBi þat his resounz were redde.\nFor þe hede in his honde he haldez vp euen,\nTo-ward þe derrest on þe dece he dressez þe face,\n& hit lyfte vp þe y3e-lyddez, & loked ful brode,\n& meled þus much with his muthe, as 3e may now here.\n“Loke, Gawan, þou be grayþe to go as þou hettez,\n& layte as lelly til þou me, lude, fynde,\nAs þou hatz hette in þis halle, herande þise kny3tes;\nTo þe grene chapel þou chose, I charge þe to fotte,\nSuch a dunt as þou hat3z dalt disserued þou habbez,\nTo be 3ederly 3olden on nw 3eres morn;\nÞe kny3t of þe grene chapel men knowen me mony;\nForþi me forto fynde if þou fraystez, faylez þou neuer,\ncome, or recreant be called.”\nÞer-fore com, oþer recreaunt be calde þe be-houeus.”\nWith a runisch rout þe raynez he tornez,\nHalled out at þe hal-dor, his hed in his hande,\nÞat þe fyr of þe flynt fla3e fro fole houes.\nTo quat kyth he be-com, knwe non þere,\nNeuermore þen þay wyste fram queþen he watz wonnen; what þenne?\nÞe kyng & Gawen þare,\nAt þat grene þay la3e & grenne,\n3et breued watz hit ful bare,\nA meruayl among þo menne.\nÞa3 Arþer þe hende kyng at hert hade wonder,\nHe let no semblaunt be sene, bot sayde ful hy3e\nTo þe comlych quene, wyth cortays speche,\n“Dere dame, to day demay yow neuer;\nWel by-commes such craft vpon cristmasse,\nLaykyng of enterludez, to la3e & to syng.\nAmong þise, kynde caroles of kny3tez & ladyez;\nNeuer þe lece to my mete I may me wel dres,\nFor I haf sen a selly, I may not for-sake.”\nHe glent vpon sir Gawen, & gaynly he sayde,\n“Now sir, heng vp þyn ax, þat hatz innogh hewen.”\n& hit watz don abof þe dece, on doser to henge,\nÞer alle men for meruayl my3t on hit loke,\n& bi trwe tytel þerof to telle þe wonder.\nÞenne þay bo3ed to a borde þise burnes to-geder,\nÞe kyng & þe gode kny3t, & kene men hem serued\nOf alle dayntyez double, as derrest my3t falle,\nWyth alle maner of mete & mynstralcie boþe;\nWyth wele walt þay þat day, til worþed an ende, in londe.\nNow þenk wel, sir Gawan,\nFor woþe þat þou ne wonde,\nÞis auenture forto frayn,\nÞat þou hatz tan on honde.\nThis hanselle hatz Arthur of auenturus on fyrst,\nIn 3onge 3er, for he 3erned 3elpyng to here,\nTha3 hym wordez were wane, when þay to sete wenten;\nNow ar þay stoken of sturne werk staf-ful her hond.\nGawan watz glad to begynne þose gomnez in halle,\nBot þa3 þe ende be heuy, haf 3e no wonder;\nFor þa3 men ben mery in mynde, quen þay han mayn drynk,\nA 3ere 3ernes ful 3erne, & 3eldez neuer lyke,\nÞe forme to þe fynisment foldez ful selden.\nForþi þis 3ol ouer-3ede, & þe 3ere after,\n& vche sesoun serlepes sued after oþer;\nAfter crystenmasse com þe crabbed lentoun,\nÞat fraystez flesch wyth þe fysche & fode more symple\nBot þenne þe weder of þe worlde wyth wynter hit þrepez,\nColde clengez adoun, cloudez vplyften,\nSchyre schedez þe rayn in schowrez ful warme,\nFallez vpon fayre flat, flowrez þere schewen,\nBoþe groundez & þe greuez grene ar her wedez,\nBryddez busken to bylde, & bremlych syngen,\nFor solace of þe softe somer þat sues þer after, bi bonk;\n& blossumez bolne to blowe,\nBi rawez rych & ronk,\nÞen notez noble inno3e,\nAr herde in wod so wlonk.\nAfter þe sesoun of somer wyth þe soft wyndez,\nQuen Zeferus syflez hym-self on sedez & erbez,\nWela wynne is þe wort þat woxes þer-oute.\nTo bide a blysful blusch of þe bry3t sunne.\nBot þen hy3es heruest, & hardenes hym sone.\nHe dryues wyth dro3t þe dust for to ryse.\nFro þe face of þe folde to fly3e ful hy3e;\nÞe leuez lancen fro þe lynde, & ly3ten on þe grounde,\n& al grayes þe gres, þat grene watz ere;\nÞenne al rypez & rotez þat ros vpon fyrst,\n& þus 3irnez þe 3ere in 3isterdayez mony,\n& wynter wynde3 a3ayn, as þe worlde askez no sage.\nTil me3el-mas mone,\nWatz cumen wyth wynter wage;\nÞen þenkkez Gawan ful sone,\nOf his anious uyage.\n3et quyl al-hal-day with Arþer he lenges,\n& he made a fare on þat fest, for þe frekez sake,\nWith much reuel & ryche of þe rounde table;\nKny3tez ful cortays & comlych ladies,\nAl for luf of þat lede in longynge þay were,\nBot neuer-þe-lece ne þe later þay neuened bot merþe,\nMony ioylez for þat ientyle iapez þer maden.\nFor aftter mete, with mournyng he melez to his eme,\n& speke3 of his passage, & pertly he sayde,\n“Now, lege lorde of my lyf, leue I yow ask;\n3e knowe þe cost of þis cace, kepe I no more\nTo telle yow tenez þerof neuer bot trifel;\nBot I am boun to þe bur barely to morne,\nTo sech þe gome of þe grene, as god wyl me wysse.”\nÞenne þe best of þe bur3 bo3ed to-geder,\nAywan, & Errik, & oþer ful mony,\nSir Doddinaual de Sauage, þe duk of Clarence,\nLauncelot, & Lyonel, & Lucan þe gode,\nSir Boos, & sir Byduer, big men boþe,\n& mony oþer menskful, with Mador de la Port.\nAlle þis compayny of court com þe kyng nerre,\nFor to counseyl þe kny3t, with care at her hert;\nÞere watz much derue doel driuen in þe sale,\nÞat so worthe as Wawan schulde wende on þat ernde,\nTo dry3e a delful dynt, & dele no more wyth bronde.\nÞe kny3t mad ay god chere,\n& sayde, “quat schuld I wonde,\nOf destines derf & dere,\nWhat may mon do bot fonde?”\nHe dowellez þer al þat day, and dressez on þe morn,\nAskez erly hys armez, & alle were þay bro3t\nFyrst a tule tapit, ty3t ouer þe flet,\n& miche watz þe gyld gere þat glent þer alofte;\nÞe stif mon steppez þeron, & þe stel hondolez,\nDubbed in a dublet of a dere tars,\n& syþen a crafty capados, closed aloft,\nÞat wyth a bry3t blaunner was bounden withinne;\nÞenne set þay þe sabatounz vpon þe segge fotez,\nHis legez lapped in stel with luflych greuez,\nWith polaynez piched þerto, policed ful clene,\nAboute his knez knaged wyth knotez of golde;\nQueme quyssewes þen, þat coyntlych closed\nHis thik þrawen þy3ez with þwonges to tachched;\n& syþen þe brawden bryne of bry3t stel rynge3,\nVmbe-weued þat wy3, vpon wlonk stuffe;\n& wel bornyst brace vpon his boþe armes,\nWith gode cowters & gay, & glouez of plate,\n& alle þe godlych gere þat hym gayn schulde\nWyth ryche cote armure,\nHis gold sporez spend with pryde,\nGurde wyth a bront ful sure,\nWith silk sayn vmbe his syde.\nWhen he watz hasped in armes, his harnays watz ryche;\nÞe lest lachet ou[þ]er loupe lemed of golde;\nSo harnayst as he watZ he herkneZ his masse,\nOffred & honoured at þe he3e auter;\nSyþen he comeZ to þe kyng & to his cort-ferez,\nLachez lufly his leue at lordez & ladyez;\n& þay hym kyst & conueyed, bikende hym to kryst.\nBi þat watz Gryngolet grayth, & gurde with a sadel,\nÞat glemed ful gayly with mony golde frenges,\nAy quere naylet ful nwe for þat note ryched;\nÞe brydel barred aboute, with bry3t golde bounden;\nÞe apparayl of þe payttrure, & of þe proude skyrtez,\nÞe cropore, & þe couertor, acorded wyth þe arsounez;\n& al watz rayled on red ryche golde naylez,\nÞat al glytered & glent as glem of þe sunne.\nÞenne hentes he þe holme, & hastily hit kysses,\nÞat watz stapled stifly, & stoffed wyth-inne:\nHit watz hy3e on his hede, hasped bihynde,\nWyth a ly3tli vrysoun ouer þe auentayle,\nEnbrawden & bounden wyth þe best gemmez,\nOn brode sylkyn borde, & brydde3 on semez,\nAs papiayez paynted pernyng bitwene,\nTortors & trulofez entayled so þyk,\nAs mony burde þer aboute had ben seuen wynter\nÞe cercle watz more o prys,\nÞat vmbe-clypped hys croun,\nOf diamauntez a deuys,\nÞat boþe were bry3t & broun.\nThen þay schewed hym þe schelde, þat was of schyr goulez,\nWyth þe pentangel de-paynt of pure golde hwez;\nHe braydez hit by þe baude-ryk, aboute þe hals kestes,\nÞat bisemed þe segge semlyly fayre.\n& quy þe pentangel apendez to þat prynce noble,\nI am in tent yow to telle, þof tary hyt me schulde;\nHit is a syngne þat Salamon set sum-quyle,\nIn bytoknyng of trawþe, bi tytle þat hit habbez,\nFor hit is a figure þat haldez fyue poyntez,\n& vche lyne vmbe-lappe3 & loukez in oþer,\n& ayquere hit is endelez, & Englych hit callen\nOueral, as I here, þe endeles knot.\nForþy hit acordez to þis kny3t, & to his cler armez,\nFor ay faythful in fyue & sere fyue syþez,\nGawan watz for gode knawen, & as golde pured,\nVoyded of vche vylany, wyth vertuez ennourned in mote;\nForþy þe pentangel nwe\nHe ber in schelde & cote,\nAs tulk of tale most trwe,\n& gentylest kny3t of lote.\nFyrst he watz funden fautlez in his fyue wyttez,\n& efte fayled neuer þe freke in his fyue fyngres,\n& alle his afyaunce vpon folde watz in þe fyue woundez\nÞat Cryst ka3t on þe croys, as þe crede tellez;\n& quere-so-euer þys mon in melly watz stad,\nHis þro þo3t wat3 in þat, þur3 alle oþer þyngez,\nÞat alle his forsnes he fong at þe fyue ioyez,\nÞat þe hende heuen quene had of hir chylde;\nAt þis cause þe kny3t comlyche hade\nIn þe more half of his schelde hir ymage depaynted,\nÞat quen he blusched þerto, his belde neuer payred.\nÞe fyrst fyue þat I finde þat þe frek vsed,\nWat3 fraunchyse, & fela3schyp for-be2 al þyng;\nHis clannes & his cortaysye croked were neuer,\n& pite, þat passez alle poyntez, þyse pure fyue\nWere harder happed on þat haþel þen on any oþer.\nNow alle þese fyue syþez, forsoþe, were fetled on þis kny3t,\n& vchone halched in oþer, þat non ende hade,\n& fyched vpon fyue poyntez, þat fayld neuer,\nNe samned neuer in no syde, ne sundred nouþ[er],\nWithouten ende at any noke [a]i quere fynde,\nWhereeuer þe gomen bygan, or glod to an ende.\nÞerfore on his schene schelde schapen watz þe knot,\nÞus alle wyth red golde vpon rede gowlez,\nÞat is þe pure pentaungel wyth þe peple called, with lore.\nNow grayþed is Gawan gay,\n& la3t his launce ry3t þore,\n& gef hem alle goud day,\nHe wende for euer more.\nHe sperred þe sted with þe spurez, & sprong on his way,\nSo stif þat þe ston fyr stroke out þer-after;\nAl þat se3 þat semly syked in hert,\n& sayde soþly al same segges til oþer,\nCarande for þat comly, “bi Kryst, hit is scaþe,\nÞat þou, leude, schal be lost, þat art of lyf noble!\nTo fynde hys fere vpon folde, in fayth is not eþe;\nWarloker to haf wro3t had more wyt bene,\n& haf dy3t 3onder dere a duk to haue worþed;\nA lowande leder of ledez in londe hym wel semez,\n& so had better haf ben þen britned to no3t,\nHadet wyth an aluisch mon, for angardez pryde.\nWho knew euer any kyng such counsel to take,\nAs kny3tez in cauelounz on crystmasse gomnez!”\nWel much watz þe warme water þat waltered of y3en,\nWhen þat semly syre so3t fro þo wonez þat daye;\nHe made non abode,\nBot wy3tly went hys way,\nMony wylsum way he rode,\nÞe bok as I herde say.\nNow ridez þis renk þur3 þe ryalme of Logres,\nSir Gauan on Godez halue, þa3 hym no gomen þo3t;\nOft, leudlez alone, he lengez on ny3tez,\nÞer he fonde no3t hym byfore þe fare þat he lyked;\nHade he no fere bot his fole, bi frythez & dounez,\nNe no gome bot God, bi gate wyth to karp,\nTil þat he ne3ed ful noghe1 in to þe Norþe Walez;\nAlle þe iles of Anglesay on lyft half he haldez,\n& fare3 ouer þe fordez by þe forlondez,\nOuer at þe Holy-Hede, til he hade eft bonk\nIn þe wyldrenesse of Wyrale; wonde þer bot lyte\nÞat auþer God oþer gome wyth goud hert louied.\n& ay he frayned, as he ferde, at frekez þat he met,\nHe enquires after the Green Knight of the Green Chapel,704\nIf þay hade herde any karp of a kny3t grene,\nIn any grounde þer-aboute, of þe grene chapel;2\n& al nykked hym wyth nay, þat neuer in her lyue\nÞay se3e neuer no segge þat watz of suche hwez\nÞe kny3t tok gates straunge,\nIn mony a bonk vnbene,\nHis cher ful oft con chaunge,\nÞat chapel er he my3t sene.\nMony klyf he ouerclambe in contrayez straunge,\nFer floten fro his frendez fremedly he rydez;\nAt vche warþe oþer water þer þe wy3e passed,\n& þat so foule & so felle, þat fe3t hym by-hode;\nSo mony meruayl hi mount þer þe mon fyndez,\nHit were to tore for to telle of þe tenþe dole.\nSumwhyle wyth wormez he werrez, & with wolues als,\nSumwhyle wyth wodwos, þat woned in þe knarrez,\nBoþe wyth bullez & berez, & borez oþerquyle,\n& etaynez, þat hym anelede, of þe he3e felle;\nNade he ben du3ty & dry3e, & dry3tyn had serued,\nDouteles he hade ben ded, & dreped ful ofte.\nFor werre wrathed hym not so much, þat wynter was wors,\nWhen þe colde cler water fro þe cloudez schadden,\n& fres er hit falle my3t to þe fale erþe;\nNer slayn wyth þe slete he sleped in his yrnes,\n& henged he3e ouer his hede in hard ÿsse-ikkles.\nÞus in peryl, & payne, & plytes ful harde,\nBi contray caryez þis kny3t, tyl kryst-masse euen, al one;\nÞe kny3t wel þat tyde,\nTo Mary made his mone.\nÞat ho hym red to ryde,\n& wysse hym to sum wone.\nBi a mounte on þe morne meryly he rydes,\nInto a forest ful dep, þat ferly watz wylde,\nHi3e hillez on vche a halue, & holtwodez vnder,\nOf hore okez fill hoge a hundreth togeder;\nÞe hasel & þe ha3þorne were harled al samen,\nWith ro3e raged mosse rayled aywhere,\nWith mony bryddez vnblyþe vpon bare twyges,\nÞat pitosly þer piped for pyne of þe colde.\nÞe gome vpon Gryngolet glydez hem vnder,\nÞur3 mony misy & myre, mon al hym one,\nCarande for his costes, lest he ne keuer schulde,\nTo se þe seruy of þat syre, þat on þat self ny3t\nOf a burde watz borne, oure baret to quelle;\n& þerfore sykyng he sayde, “I be-seche þe, lorde,\n& Mary, þat is myldest moder so dere.\nOf sum herber, þer he3ly I my3t here masse.\nAnde þy matynez to-morne, mekely I ask,\n& þer-to prestly I pray my pater & aue,\nHe rode in his prayere,\n& cryed for his mysdede,\nHe sayned hym in syþes sere,\n& sayde “cros Kryst me spede!”\nNade he sayned hym-self, segge, bot þrye,\nEr he watz war in þe wod of a won in a mote.\nAbof a launde, on a lawe, loken vnder bo3ez,\nOf mony borelych bole, aboute bi þe diches;\nA castel þe comlokest þat euer kny3t a3te,\nPyched on a prayere, a park al aboute,\nWith a pyked palays, pyned ful þik,\nÞat vmbe-te3e mony tre mo þen two myle.\nÞat holde on þat on syde þe haþel auysed,\nAs hit schemered & schon þur3 þe schyre okez;\nÞenne hatz he hendly of his helme, & he3ly he þonkez\nIesus & say[nt] Gilyan, þat gentyle ar boþe,\nÞat cortaysly hade hym kydde, & his cry herkened.\n“Now bone hostel,” coþe þe burne, “I beseche yow 3ette!”\nÞenne gerdez he to Gryngolet with þe gilt helez,\n& he ful chauncely hatz chosen to þe chef gate,\nÞat bro3t bremly þe burne to þe bryge ende,\nÞe bryge watz breme vp-brayde,\nÞe 3atez wer stoken faste,\nÞe wallez were wel arayed,\nHit dut no wyndez blaste.\nÞe burne bode on bonk, þat on blonk houed,\nOf þe depe double dich þat drof to þe place,\nÞe walle wod in þe water wonderly depe,\nAnde eft a ful huge he3t hit haled vpon lofte,\nOf harde hewen ston vp to þe tablez,\nEnbaned vnder þe abataylment, in þe best lawe;\n& syþen garytez ful gaye gered bitwene,\nWyth mony luflych loupe, þat louked ful clene;\nA better barbican þat burne blusched vpon neuer;\n& innermore he be-helde þat halle ful hy3e,\nTowre telded bytwene trochet ful þik,\nFayre fylyolez þat fy3ed, & ferlyly long,\nWith coruon coprounes, craftyly sle3e;\nChalk whyt chymnees þer ches he in-no3e,\nVpon bastel rouez, þat blenked ful quyte;\nSo mony pynakle payntet watz poudred ay quere,\nÞat pared out of papure purely hit semed.\nÞe fre freke on þe fole hit fayr inn[o]ghe þo3t,\nIf he my3t keuer to com þe cloyster wythinne,\nTo herber in þat hostel, whyl halyday lested\nHe calde, & sone þer com\nA porter pure plesaunt,\nOn þe wal his ernd he nome,\n& haylsed þe kny3t erraunt.\n“Gode sir,” quod Gawan, “woldez þou go myn ernde,\nTo þe he3 lorde of þis hous, herber to craue?”\n“3e, Peter,” quod þe porter, “& purely I trowe,\n“You are welcome to dwell here as long as you like,” replied the porter.\nÞat 3e be, wy3e, welcum to won quyle yow lykez.”\nÞen 3ede þat wy3e a3ayn awyþe,\n& folke frely hym wyth, to fonge þe kny3t;\nÞay let doun þe grete dra3t, & derely out 3eden,\n& kneled doun on her knes vpon þe colde erþe,\nTo welcum þis ilk wy3, as worþy hom þo3t;\nand the gate is opened wide to receive him.820\nÞay 3olden hym þe brode 3ate, 3arked vp wyde,\n& he hem raysed rekenly, & rod ouer þe brygge;\nSere seggez hym sesed by sadel, quel2 he ly3t,\n& syþen stabeled his stede stif men in-no3e.\nKny3tez & swyerez comen doun þenne,\nFor to bryng þis burne wyth blys into halle;\nQuen he hef vp his helme, þer hi3ed innoghe\nFor to hent hit at his honde, þe hende to seruen,\nHis bronde & his blasoun boþe þay token.\nÞen haylsed he ful hendly þo haþelez vch one,\n& mony proud mon þer presed, þat prynce to honour;\nAlle hasped in his he3 wede to halle þay hym wonnen,\nÞer fayre fyre vpon flet fersly brenned.\nÞenne þe lorde of þe lede loutez fro his chambre,\nFor to mete wyth menske þe mon on þe flor;\nHe sayde, “3e ar welcum to welde as yow lykez,\nÞat here is, al is yowre awen, to haue at yowre wylle\n“Graunt mercy,” quod Gawayn,\n“Þer Kryst hit yow for-3elde,”\nAs frekez þat semed fayn,\nAyþer oþer in armez con felde.\nGawayn gly3t on þe gome þat godly hym gret,\n& þu3t hit a bolde burne þat þe bur3 a3te,\nA hoge haþel for þe nonez, & of hyghe elde;\nBrode bry3t watz his berde, & al beuer hwed,\nSturne stif on þe stryþþe on stalworth schonkez,\nFelle face as þe fyre, & fre of hys speche;\n& wel hym semed for soþe, as þe segge þu3t,\nTo lede a lortschyp in lee of leudez ful gode.\nÞe lorde hym charred to a chambre, & chefly cumaundez\nTo delyuer hym a leude, hym lo3ly to serue;\n& þere were boun at his bode burnez inno3e,\nÞat bro3t hym to a bry3t boure, þer beddyng wat3 noble,\nOf cortynes of clene sylk, wyth cler golde hemmez,\n& couertorez ful curious, with comlych panez,\nOf bry3t blaunnier a-boue enbrawded bisydez,\nRudelez rennande on ropez, red golde ryngez,\nTapytez ty3t to þe wo3e, of tuly & tars,\n& vnder fete, on þe flet, of fol3ande sute.\nÞer he watz dispoyled, wyth spechez of myerþe,\nÞe burn of his bruny, & of his bry3t wedez;\nRyche robes ful rad renkkez hem bro3ten,\nFor to charge, & to chaunge, & chose of þe best.\nSone as he on hent, & happed þerinne,\nÞat sete on hym semly, wyth saylande skyrtez,\nÞe ver by his uisage verayly hit semed\nWel ne3 to vche haþel alle on hwes,\nLowande & lufly, alle his lymmez vnder,\nÞat a comloker kny3t neuer Kryst made,\nWheþen in worlde he were,\nHit semed as he my3t\nBe prynce with-outen pere,\nIn felde þer felle men fy3t.\nA cheyer by-fore þe chemné, þer charcole brenned,\nWatz grayþed for sir Gawan, grayþely with cloþez,\nWhyssynes vpon queldepoyntes, þa[t] koynt wer boþe;\n& þenne a mere mantyle watz on þat mon cast,\nOf a broun bleeaunt, enbrauded ful ryche,\n& fayre furred wythinne with fellez of þe best,\nAlle of ermyn in erde, his hode of þe same;\n& he sete in þat settel semlych ryche,\n& achaufed hym chefly, & þenne his cher mended.\nSone watz telded vp a tapit, on trestez ful fayre,\nClad wyth a clene cloþe, þat cler quyt schewed,\nSanap, & salure, & syluer-in sponez;\nÞe wy3e wesche at his wylle, & went to his mete\nSeggez hym serued semly in-no3e,\nWyth sere sewes & sete,2 sesounde of þe best,\nDouble felde, as hit fallez, & fele kyn fischez;\nSumme baken in bred, summe brad on þe gledez,\nSumme soþen, summe in sewe, sauered with spyces,\n& ay sawes so sle3e3, þat þe segge lyked.\nÞe freke calde hit a fest ful frely & ofte,\nFul hendely, quen alle þe haþeles re-hayted hym at onez as hende;\n“Þis penaunce now 3e take,\n& eft hit schal amende;”\nÞat mon much merþe con make.\nFor wyn in his hed þat wende.\nÞenne watz spyed & spured vpon spare wyse.\nBi preue poyntez of þat prynce, put to hymseluen,\nÞat he be-knew cortaysly of þe court þat he were,\nÞat aþel Arthure þe hende haldez hym one,\nÞat is þe ryche ryal kyng of þe rounde table;\n& hit watz Wawen hymself þat in þat won syttez,\nComen to þat krystmasse, as case hym þen lymped.\nWhen þe lorde hade lerned þat he þe leude hade,\nLoude la3ed he þerat, so lef hit hym þo3t,\n& alle þe men in þat mote maden much joye,\nTo apere in his presense prestly þat tyme,\nÞat alle prys, & prowes, & pured þewes\nApendes to hys persoun, & praysed is euer,\nBy-fore alle men vpon molde, his mensk is þe most.\nVch segge ful softly sayde to his fere,\n“Now schal we semlych se sle3tez of þewez, &\nþe teccheles termes of talkyng noble,\nWich spede is in speche, vnspurd may we lerne,\nSyn we haf fonged þat fyne fader of nurture;\nGod hatz geuen vus his grace godly for soþe,\nÞat such a gest as Gawan grauntez vus to haue,\nWhen burnez blyþe of his burþe schal sitte & synge.\nIn menyng of manerez mere,\nÞis burne now schal vus bryng,\nI hope þat may hym here,\nSchal lerne of luf-talkyng.”\nBi þat þe diner watz done, & þe dere vp,\nHit watz ne3 at þe niy3t ne3ed þe tyme;\nChaplaynez to þe chapeles chosen þe gate,\nRungen ful rychely, ry3t as þay schulden,\nTo þe hersum euensong of þe hy3e tyde.\nÞe lorde loutes þerto, & þe lady als,\nInto a comly closet coyntly ho entrez;\nGawan glydez ful gay, & gos þeder sone;\nÞe lorde laches hym by þe lappe, & ledez hym to sytte,\n& couþly hym knowez, & callez hym his nome,\n& sayde he watz þe welcomest wy3e of þe worlde;\n& he hym þonkked þroly, & ayþer halched oþer.\n& seten soberly samen þe seruise quyle;\nÞenne lyst þe lady to loke on þe kny3t.\nÞenne com ho of hir closet, with mony cler burdez,\nHo watz þe fayrest in felle, of flesche & of lyre,\n& of compas, & colour, & costes of alle oþer,\n& wener þen Wenore, as þe wy3e þo3t.\nHe ches þur3 þe chaunsel, to cheryche þat hende;\nAn oþer lady hir lad bi þe lyft honde,\nÞat watz alder þen ho, an auncian hit semed,\n& he3ly honowred with haþelez aboute.\nBot yn-lyke on to loke þo ladyes were,\nFor if þe 3onge watz 3ep, 3ol3e watz þat oþer;\nRiche red on þat on rayled ay quere,\nRugh ronkled chekez þat oþer on rolled;\nKerchofes of þat on wyth mony cler perlez\nHir brest & hir bry3t þrote bare displayed,\nSchon schyrer þen snawe, þat schedez on hillez;\nÞat oþer wyth a gorger watz gered ouer þe swyre,\nChymbled ouer hir blake chyn with mylkquyte vayles,\nHir frount folden in sylk, enfoubled ay quere,\nToret & treieted with tryflez aboute,\nÞat no3t watz bare of þat burde bot þe blake bro3es.\nÞe tweyne y3en, & þe nase, þe naked lyppez,\n& þose were soure to se, & sellyly blered;\nA mensk lady on molde mon may hir calle, for gode;\nHir body watz schort & þik.\nHir buttokez bay & brode,\nMore lykker-wys on to lyk,\nWatz þat scho hade on lode.\nWhen Gawayn gly3t on þat gay, þat graciously loked,\nWyth leue la3t of þe lorde he went hem a3aynes;\nÞe alder he haylses, heldande ful lowe,\nÞe loueloker he lappez a lyttel in armez,\nHe kysses hir comlyly, & kny3tly he melez;\nÞay kallen hym of a quoyntaunce, & he hit quyk askez\nTo be her seruaunt sothly, if hem-self lyked.\nÞay tan hym bytwene hem, wyth talkyng hym leden\nTo chambre, to chemné, & chefly þay asken\nSpycez, þat vnsparely men speded hom to bryng,\n& þe wynnelych wyne þerwith vche tyme.\nÞe lorde luflych aloft lepez ful ofte,\nMynned merthe to be made vpon mony syþez.\nHent he3ly of his hode, & on a spere henged,\n& wayned hom to wynne þe worchip þerof,\nÞat most myrþe my3t mene þat crystenmas whyle;\n“& i schal fonde, bi my fayth, to fylter wyth þe best,\nEr me wont þe wede3, with help of my frendez.”\nÞus wyth la3ande lotez þe lorde hit tayt makez,\nFor to glade sir Gawayn with gomnez in halle þat ny3t;\nTil þat hit watz tyme,\nÞe kyng comaundet ly3t,\nSir Gawen his leue con nyme,\n& to his bed hym di3t.\nOn þe morne, as vch mon mynez þat tyme,\n[Þ]at dry3tyn for oure destyné to de3e watz borne,\nWele waxez in vche a won in worlde, for his sake;\nSo did hit þere on þat day, þur3 dayntes mony;\nBoþe at mes & at mele, messes ful quaynt\nDerf men vpon dece drest of þe best.\nÞe olde auncian wyf he3est ho syttez;\nÞe lorde lufly her by lent, as I trowe;\nGawan & þe gay burde to-geder þay seten,\nEuen inmyddez, as þe messe metely come;\n& syþen þur3 al þe sale, as hem best semed,\nBi vche grome at his degre grayþely wat3z serued.\nÞer watz mete, þer watz myrþe, þer watz much ioye,\nÞat for to telle þerof hit me tene were,\n& to poynte hit 3et I pyned me parauenture;\nBot 3et I wot þat Wawen & þe wale burde\nSuch comfort of her compaynye ca3ten togeder,\nÞur3 her dere dalyaunce of her derne wordez,\nWyth clene cortays carp, closed fro fylþe;\n& hor play watz passande vche prynce gomen,\nTrumpez & nakerys,\nMuch pypyng þer repayres,\nVche mon tented hys,\n& þay two tented þayres.\nMuch dut watz þer dryuen þat day & þat oþer,\n& þe þryd as þro þronge in þerafter;\nÞe ioye of sayn Ionez day watz gentyle to here,\n& watz þe last of þe layk, leudez þer þo3ten.\nÞer wer gestes to go vpon þe gray morne,\nForþy wonderly þay woke, & þe wyn dronken,\nDaunsed ful dre3ly wyth dere carolez;\nAt þe last, when hit wat3 late, þay lachen her leue,\nVchon to wende on his way, þat watz wy3e stronge.\nGawan gef hym god day, þe godmon hym lachchez,\nLedes hym to his awen chambre, þ[e] chymné bysyde,\n& þere he dra3ez hym on dry3e, & derely hym þonkkez,\nOf þe wynne worschip & he hym wayned hade,\nAs to honour his hous on þat hy3e tyde,\n& enbelyse his bur3 with his bele chere.\n“Iwysse sir, quyl I leue, me worþez þe better,\nÞat Gawayn hatz ben my gest, at Goddez awen fest.”\n“Grant merci sir,” quod Gawayn, “in god fayth hit is yowrez,\nAl þe honour is your awen, þe he3e kyng yow 3elde;\n& I am wy3e at your wylle, to worch youre hest,\nAs I am halden þerto, in hy3e & in lo3e, bi ri3t.”\nÞe lorde fast can hym payne,\nTo holde lenger þe kny3t,\nTo hym answrez Gawayn,\nBi non way þat he my3t.\nThen frayned þe freke ful fayre at him-seluen,\nQuat derne dede had hym dryuen, at þat dere tyme,\nSo kenly fro þe kyngez kourt to kayre al his one,\nEr þe halidayez holly were halet out of toun?\n“For soþe sir,” quod þe segge, “3e sayn bot þe trawþe\nA he3e ernde & a hasty me hade fro þo wonez,\nFor I am sumned my selfe to sech to a place,\nI wot in worlde wheder warde to wende, hit to fynde;\nI nolde, bot if I hit negh my3t on nw3eres morne,\nFor alle þe londe in-wyth Logres, so me oure lorde help!\nForþy, sir, þis enquest I require yow here,\nÞat 3e me telle with trawþe, if euer 3e tale herde\n& of þe kny3t þat hit kepes, of colour of grene?\nÞer watz stabled bi statut a steuen vus by-twene,\nTo mete þat mon at þat mere, 3if I my3t last;\n& of þat ilk nw3ere hot neked now wontez,\n& I wolde loke on þat lede, if God me let wolde,\nGladloker, bi Goddez sun, þen any god welde!\nForþi, Iwysse, bi 3owre wylle, wende me bihoues,\nNaf I now to busy bot bare þre dayez,\n& me als fayn to falle feye as fayly of myyn ernde.”\nÞenne la3ande quod þe lorde, “now leng þe by-houes,\nFor I schal teche yow to þa[t] terme bi þe tymez ende,\nÞe grene chapayle vpon grounde, greue yow no more;\nBot 3e schal be in yowre bed, burne, at þyn ese,\nQuyle forth dayej, & ferk on pe fyrst of pe 3ere,\n& cum to þat merk at mydmorn, to make quat yow likez in spenne;\nDowellez whyle new 3eres daye,\n& rys, & raykez þenne,\nMon schal yow sette in waye,\nHit is not two myle henne.”\nÞenne watz Gawan ful glad, & gomenly he la3ed,—\n“Now I þonk yow þryuandely þur3 alle oþer þynge,\nNow acheued is my chaunce, I schal at your wylle\nDowelle, & ellez do quat 3e demen.”\nÞenne sesed hym þe syre, & set hym bysyde,\nLet þe ladiez be fette, to lyke hem þe better;\nÞer watz seme solace by hemself stille;\nÞe lorde let for luf lotez so myry,\nAs wy3 þat wolde of his wyte, ne wyst quat he my3t.\nÞenne he carped to þe kny3t, criande loude,\n“3e han demed to do þe dede þat I bidde;\nWyl 3e halde þis hes here at þys onez?”\n“3e sir, forsoþe,” sayd þe segge trwe,\n“Whyl I byde in yowre bor3e, be bayn to 3ow[r]e hest.”\n“For 3e haf trauayled,” quod þe tulk, “towen fro ferre,\n& syþen waked me wyth, 3e arn not wel waryst,\nNauþer of sostnaunce ne of slepe, soþly I knowe;\n3e schal lenge in your lofte, & ly3e in your ese,\nTo-morn quyle þe messequyle, & to mete wende,\nWhen 3e wyl, wyth my wyf, þat wyth yow schal sitte,\n& comfort yow with compayny, til I to cort torne,\n& I schal erly ryse,\nOn huntyng wyl I wende.”\nGauayn grantez alle þyse,\nHym heldande, as þe hende.\n“3et firre,” quod þe freke, “a forwarde we make;\nQuat-so-euer I wynne in þe wod, hit worþez to yourez,\n& quat chek so 3e acheue, chaunge me þerforne;\nSwete, swap we so, sware with trawþe,\nQueþer, leude, so lymp lere oþer better.”\n“Bi God,” quod Gawayn þe gode, “I grant þertylle,\n& þat yow lyst forto layke, lef hit me þynkes.\n“Who bringez vus þis beuerage, þis bargayn is maked:”\nSo sayde þe lorde of þat lede; þay la3ed vchone,\nÞay dronken, & daylyeden, & dalten vnty3tel,\nÞise lordez & ladyez, quyle þat hem lyked;\n& syþen with frenkysch fare & fele fayre lotez\nÞay stoden, & stemed, & stylly speken,\nKysten ful comlyly, & ka3ten her leue.\nWith mony leude ful ly3t, & lemande torches,\nVche burne to his bed watz bro3t at þe laste,\nTo bed 3et er þay 3ede,\nRecorded couenauntez ofte;\nÞe olde lorde of þat leude,\nCowþe wel halde layk a-lofte.\nFul erly bifore þe day þe folk vp-rysen,\nGestes þat go wolde, hor gromez þay calden,\n& þay busken vp bilyue, blonkkez to sadel,\nTyffen he[r] takles, trussen her males,\nRichen hem þe rychest, to ryde alle arayde,\nLepen vp ly3tly, lachen her brydeles,\nVche wy3e on his way, þer hym wel lyked.\nÞe leue lorde of þe londe watz not þe last,\nArayed for þe rydyng, with renkkez ful mony;\nEte a sop hastyly, when he hade herde masse,\nWith bugle to bent felde he buskez bylyue;\nBy þat þat any dayly3t lemed vpon erþe,\nHe with his haþeles on hy3e horsses weren.\nÞenne þise cacheres þat couþe, cowpled hor houndez,\nVnclosed þe kenel dore, & calde hem þeroute,\nBlwe bygly in bugle þre bare mote;\nBraches bayed þerfore, & breme noyse maked,\n& þay chastysed, & charred, on chasyng þat went;\nA hundreth of hunteres, as I haf herde telle, of þe best;\nTo trystors vewters 3od,\nCouples huntes of kest,\nÞer ros for blastez gode,\nGret rurd in þat forest.\nAt þe fyrst quethe of þe quest quaked þe wylde;\nDer drof in þe dale, doted for drede,\nHi3ed to þe hy3e, bot heterly þay were\nRestayed with þe stablye, þat stoutly ascryed;\nÞay let þe herttez haf þe gate, with þe hy3e hedes,\nÞe breme bukkez also, with hor brode paumez;\nFor þe fre lorde hade defende in fermysoun tyme,\nÞat þer schulde no mon mene to þe male dere.\nÞe hindez were halden in, with hay & war,\nÞe does dryuen with gret dyn to þe depe sladez;\nÞer my3t mon se, as þay slypte, slentyng of arwes,\nAt vche [þat] wende vnder wande wapped a flone,\nÞat bigly bote on þe broun, with ful brode hedez,\nWhat! þay brayen, & bleden, bi bonkkez þay de3en.\n& ay rachches in a res radly hem fol3es,\nHunterez wyth hy3e horne hasted hem after,\nWyth such a crakkande kry, as klyffes haden brusten;\nWhat wylde so at-waped wy3es þat schotten,\nWatz al to-raced & rent, at þe resayt.\nBi þay were tened at þe hy3e, & taysed to þe wattrez,\nÞe ledez were so lerned at þe lo3e trysteres,\n& þe grehoundez so grete, þat geten hem bylyue,\n& hem to fylched, as fast as frekez my3t loke, þer-ry3t.\nÞe lorde for blys abloy\nFul oft con launce & ly3t,\n& drof þat day wyth Ioy\nThus to þe derk ny3t.\nÞus laykez þis lorde by lynde wodez euez,\n& Gawayn þe god mon, in gay bed lygez,\nLurkkez quyl þe dayly3t lemed on þe wowes,\nVnder couertour ful clere, cortyned aboute;\n& as in slomeryng he slode, sle3ly he herde\nA littel dyn at his dor, & derfly vpon;\n& he heuez vp his hed out of þe cloþes,\nA corner of þe cortyn he ca3t vp a lyttel,\n& waytez warly þiderwarde, quat hit be my3t.\nHit watz þe ladi, loflyest to beholde,\nÞat dro3 þe dor after hir ful dernly & stylle,\n& bo3ed towarde þe bed; & þe burne schamed.\n& layde hym doun lystyly, & let as he slepte.\n& ho stepped stilly & stel to his bedde,\nKest vp þe cortyn, & creped withinne,\n& set hir ful softly on þe bed-syde,\n& lenged þere selly longe, to loke quen he wakened.\nÞe lede lay lurked a ful longe quyle,\nCompast in his concience to quat þat cace my3t\nMene oþer amount--to meruayle hym þo3t;\nBot 3et he sayde in hymself, “more semly hit were\nTo aspye wyth my spelle [in] space quat ho wolde.”\nþen he wakenede, & wroth, & to hir warde torned,\n& vnlouked his y3e-lyddez, & let as hym wondered,\n& sayned hym, as bi his sa3e þe sauer to worthe, with hande.\nWyth chynne & cheke ful swete,\nBoþe quit & red in-blande,\nFul lufly con ho lete,\nWyth lyppez smal la3ande.\n“God moroun, sir Gawayn,” sayde þat fayr lady,\n“3e ar a sleper vnsly3e, þat mon may slyde hider;\nNow ar 3e tan astyt, bot true vus may schape,\nI schal bynde yow in your bedde, þat be 3e trayst:”\nAl la3ande þe lady lanced þo bourdez.\n“Goud moroun g[aye],”1 quod Gawayn þe blyþe,\n“Me schal worþe at your wille, & þat me wel lykez,\nFor I 3elde me 3ederly, & 3e3e after grace,\n& þat is þe best, be my dome, for me byhouez nede;”\n& þus he bourded a3ayn with mony a blyþe la3ter.\n“Bot wolde 3e, lady louely, þen leue me grante,\n& deprece your prysoun, & pray hym to ryse,\nI wolde bo3e of þis bed, & busk me better,\nI schulde keuer þe more comfort to karp yow wyth.”\n“Nay, for soþe, beau sir,” sayd þat swete,\n“3e schal not rise of your bedde, I rych yow better,\nI schal happe yow here þat oþer half als,\n& syþen karp wyth my kny3t þat I ka3t haue;\nFor I wene wel, Iwysse, sir Wawen 3e are,\nÞat alle þe worlde worchipez, quere-so 3e ride;\nYour honour, your hendelayk is hendely praysed\nWith lordez, wyth ladyes, with alle þat lyf bere.\n& now 3e ar here, iwysse, & we bot oure one;\n“My lorde & his ledez ar on lenþe faren,\nOþer burnez in her bedde, & my burdez als,\nÞe dor drawen, & dit with a derf haspe;\n& syþen I haue in þis hous hym þat al lykez,\nI schal ware my whyle wel, quyl hit lastez, with tale;\n3e ar welcum to my cors,\nYowre awen won to wale,\nMe behouez of fyne force,\nYour seruaunt be & schale.”\n“In god fayth,” quod Gawayn, “gayn hit me þynkkez,\nÞa3 I be not now he þat 3e of speken;\nTo reche to such reuerence as 3e reherce here\nI am wy3e vn-worþy, I wot wel my-seluen;\nBi God, I were glad, & yow god þo3t,\nAt sa3e oþer at seruyce þat I sette my3t\nTo þe plesaunce of your prys--hit were a pure ioye.”\n“In god fayth, sir Gawayn,” quod þe gay lady,\n“Þe prys & þe prowes þat plesez al oþer,\nIf I hit lakked, oþer set at ly3t, hit were littel daynté;\nBot hit ar ladyes inno3e, þat leuer wer nowþe\nHaf þe hende in hor holde, as I þe habbe here,\nTo daly witt derely your daynté wordez,\nKeuer hem comfort, & colen her carez,\nÞen much of þe garysourn oþer golde þat þay hauen;\nBot I louue þat ilk lorde þat þe lyfte haldez,\nI haf hit holly in my honde þat al desyres, þur3e grace.”\nScho made hym so gret chere,\nÞat watz so fayr of face,\nÞe kny3t with speches skere,\nA[n]swared to vche a cace.\n“Madame,” quod þe myry mon, “Mary yow 3elde,\n& oþer ful much of oþer folk fongen hor dedez;\nBot þe daynté þat þay delen for my disert nysen,\nHit is þe worchyp of yourzself, þat no3t hot wel connez.”\n“Bi Mary,” quod þe menskful, “me þynk hit anoþer;\nFor were I worth al þe wone of wymmen alyue,\n& al þe wele of þe worlde were in my honde,\n& I schulde chepen & chose, to cheue me a lorde,\nFor þe costes þat I haf knowen vpun þe kny3t here,\nOf bewté, & debonerté, & blyþe semblaunt,\n& þat I haf er herkkened, & halde hit here trwee,\nÞer schulde no freke vpon folde bifore yow be chosen.”\n“Iwysse, worþy,” quod þe wy3e, “3e haf waled wel better,\nBot I am proude of þe prys þat 3e put on me,\n& soberly your seruaunt my souerayn I holde yow,\n& yowre kny3t I becom, & Kryst yow for3elde.”\nÞus þay meled of muchquat, til mydmorn paste,\n& ay þe lady let lyk, a hym loued mych;\nÞe freke ferde with defence, & feted ful fayre.\nÞa3 I were burde bry3test, þe burde in mynde hade,\nÞe lasse luf in his lode, for lur þat he so3t, boute hone;\nÞe dunte þat schulde hym deue,\n& nedez hit most be done;\nÞe lady þenn spek of leue.\nHe granted hir ful sone.\nÞenne ho gef hym god day, & wyth a glent la3ed.\n& as ho stod, ho stonyed hym wyth ful stor wordez:\n“Now he þat spedez vche spech, þis disport 3elde yow!\nBot þat 3e be Gawan, hit gotz in mynde.”\n“Querfore?” quod þe freke, & freschly he askez,\nFerde lest he hade fayled in fourme of his castes;\nBot þe burde hym blessed, & bi þis skyl sayde,\n“So god as Gawayn gaynly is halden,\n& cortaysye is closed so clene in hym-seluen,\nCouth not ly3tly haf lenged so long wyth a lady,\nBot he had craued a cosse, bi his courtaysye,\nBi sum towch of summe tryfle, at sum talez ende.”\nÞen quod Wowen, “I-wysse, worþe as yow lykez,\nI schal kysse at your comaundement, as a kny3t fallez,\n& fire lest he displese yow, so plede hit no more.”\nHo comes nerre with þat, & cachez hym in armez,\nLoutez luflych adoun, & þe leude kyssez;\nÞay comly bykennen to Kryst ayþer oþer;\nHo dos hir forth at þe dore, withouten dyn more.\n& he ryches hym to ryse, & rapes hym sone,\nClepes to his chamberlayn, choses his wede,\nBo3ez forth, quen he watz boun, blyþely to masse,\n& þenne he meued to his mete þat menskly hym keped,\n& made myry al day til þe mone rysed,\nWatz neuer freke fayrer fonge,\nBitwene two so dyngne dame,\nÞe alder & þe 3onge,\nMuch solace set þay same.\nAnd ay þe lorde of þe londe is lent on his gamnez,\nTo hunt in holtez & heþe, at hyndez barayne,\nSuch a sowme he þer slowe bi þat þe sunne heldet,\nOf dos & of oþer dere, to deme were wonder.\nÞenne fersly þay flokked in folk at þe laste,\n& quykly of þe quelled dere a querré þay maked;\nÞe best bo3ed þerto, with burnez innoghe,\nGedered þe grattest of gres þat þer were,\n& didden hem derely vndo, as þe dede askez;\nSerched hem at þe asay, summe þat þer were,\nTwo fyngeres þay fonde of þe fowlest of alle;\nSyþen þay slyt þe slot, sesed þe erber,\nSchaued wyth a scharp knyf, & þe schyre knitten;\nSyþen rytte þay þe foure lymmes, & rent of þe hyde,\nÞen brek þay þe bale, þe bowelez out token,\nLystily forlancyng, & bere of þe knot;\nÞay gryped to þe gargulun, & grayþely departed\nÞe wesaunt fro þe wynt-hole, & walt out þe guttez;\nÞen scher þay out þe schulderez with her scharp knyuez,\nHaled hem by a lyttel hole, to haue hole sydes;\nSiþen britned þay þe brest, & brayden hit in twynne,\n& eft at þe gargulun bigynez on þenne,\nRyuez hit vp radly, ry3t to þe by3t,\nVoydez out þe avanters, & verayly þerafter\nAlle þe rymez by þe rybbez radly þay lance;\nSo ryde þay of by resoun bi þe rygge bonez,\nEuenden to þe haunche, þat henged alle samen,\n& heuen hit vp al hole, & hwen hit of þere,\n& þat þayneme for þe noumbles, bi nome as I trowe,\nBi þe by3t al of þe þy3es,\nÞe lappez þay lance bihynde,\nTo hewe hit in two þay hy3es,\nBi þe bakbon to vnbynde.\nBoþe þe hede & þe hals þay hwen of þenne,\n& syþen sunder þay þe sydez swyft fro þe chyne,\n& þe corbeles fee þay kest in a greue;\nÞenn þurled þay ayþer þik side þur3, bi þe rybbe,\n& henged þenne a[y]þer bi ho3ez of þe fourchez,\nVche freke for his fee, as fallez forto haue.\nVpon a felle of þe fayre best, fede þay þayr houndes,\nWyth þe lyuer & þe ly3tez, þe leþer of þe paunchez,\n& bred baþed in blod, blende þeramongez;\nBaldely þay blw prys, bayed þayr rachchez,\nSyþen fonge þay her flesche folden to home,\nStrakande ful stoutly mony stif motez.\nBi þat þe dayly3t wat3 done, þe douthe watz al wonen\nInto þe comly castel, þer þe kny3t bidez\nWyth blys & bry3t fyr bette,\nÞe lord is comen þer-tylle,\nWhen Gawayn wyth hym mette,\nÞer watz bot wele at wylle.\nThenne comaunded þe lorde in þat sale to samen alle þe meny,\nBoþe þe ladyes on loghe to ly3t with her burdes,\nBifore alle þe folk on þe flette, frekez he beddez\nVerayly his venysoun to fech hym byforne;\n& al godly in gomen Gaway[n] he called,\nTechez hym to þe tayles of ful tayt bestes,\nSchewez hym þe schyree grece schorne vpon rybbes.\n“How payez yow þis play? haf I prys wonnen?\nHaue I þryuandely þonk þur3 my craft serued?”\n“3e Iwysse,” quod þat oþer wy3e, “here is wayth fayrest\nÞat I se3 þis seuen 3ere in sesoun of wynter.”\n“& al I gif yow, Gawayn,” quod þe gome þenne,\n“For by acorde of couenaunt 3e craue hit as your awen.”\n“Þis is soth,” quod þe segge, “I say yow þatilke,\n& I haf worthyly þis wonez wyth-inne,\nIwysse with as god wylle hit worþez to 3ourez.”\nHe hasppez his fayre hals his armez wythinne,\n& kysses hym as comlyly as he couþe awyse:\n“Tas yow þere my cheuicaunce, I cheued no more,\nI wowche hit saf fynly, þa3 feler hit were.”\n“Hit is god,” quod þe god mon, “grant mercy þerfore,\nHit may be such, hit is þe better, & 3e me breue wolde\nWhere 3e wan þis ilk wele, bi wytte of yorseluen.”\n“Þat watz not forward,” quod he, “frayst me no more,\nFor 3e haftan þat yow tydez, trawe non oþer\nÞay la3ed, & made hem blyþe,\nWyth lotez þat were to lowe,\nTo soper þay 3ede as-swyþe,\nWyth dayntes nwe innowe.\nAnd syþen by þe chymné in chamber þay seten.\nWy3ez þe walle wyn we3ed to hem oft,\n& efte in her bourdyng þay bayþen in þe morn,\nTo fylle þe same forwardez þat þay byfore maden,\nÞat chaunce so bytydez hor cheuysaunce to chaunge,\nWhat nwez so þay nome, at na3t quen þay metten\nÞay acorded of þe couenauntez byfore þe court alle;\nÞe beuerage watz bro3t forth in bourde at þat tyme;\nÞenne þay louelych le3ten leue at þe last,\nVche burne to his bedde busked bylyue.\nScarce had the cock cackled thrice when the lord was up.\nBi þat þe coke hade crowe3 & cakled bot þryse,\nÞe lorde watz lopen of his bedde, þe leudez vchone,\nSo þat þe mete & þe masse watz metely delyuered;\nÞe douthe dressed to þe wod, er any day sprenged,\nHe3 with hunte & hornez,\nÞur3 playnez þay passe in space,\nVncoupled among þo þornez,\nRachez þat ran on race.\nSone þay calle of a quest in aker syde,\nÞe hunt rehayted þe houndez, þat hit fyrst mynged,\nWylde wordez hym warp wyth a wrast noyce;\nÞe howndez þat hit herde, hastid þider swyþe,\n& fellen as fast to þe fuyt, fourty at ones;\nÞenne such a glauerande glam of gedered rachchez\nRos, þat þe rocherez rungen aboute;\nHunterez hem hardened with horne & wyth muthe.\nÞen al in a semblé sweyed togeder,\nBitwene a flosche in þat fryth, & a foo cragge;\nIn a knot, bi a clyffe, at þe kerre syde,\nÞer as þe rogh rocher vnrydely watz fallen,\nÞay ferden to þe fyndyng, & frekez hem after;\nÞay vmbekesten þe knarre & þe knot boþe.\nWy3ez, whyl þay wysten wel wyt inne hem hit were,\nÞe best þat þer breued watz wyth þe blod houndez.\nÞenne þay beten on þe buskez, & bede hym vp ryse,\n& he vnsoundyly out so3t seggez ouerþwert,\nOn þe sellokest swyn swenged out þere,\nLong sythen for þe sounder þat wi3t for-olde,\nFor he watz b[este &] bor alþer-grattest,\n[And eue]re quen he gronyed, þenne greued mony,\nFor [þre a]t þe fyrst þrast he þry3t to þe erþe,\n& [sped hym] forth good sped, boute spyt more,\n[Ande þay] halowed hyghe ful hy3e & hay! hay! cryed\nHaden hornez to mouþe heterly rechated;\nFull quickly the hunters pursue him.\nMony watz þe myry mouthe of men & of houndez,\nÞat buskkez after þis bor, with bost & wyth noyse,\nFul oft he bydez þe baye,\n& maymez þe mute Inn melle,\nHe hurtzez of þe houndez, & þay\nFul 3omerly 3aule & 3elle.\nBot þe poyntez payred at þe pyth þat py3t in his scheldez,\n& þe barbez of his browe bite non wolde--\nÞa3 þe schauen schaft schyndered in pecez,\nÞe hede hypped a3ayn, were-so-euer hit hitte;\nBot quon þe dyntez hym dered of her dry3e strokez,\nÞen, brayn-wod for bate, on burnez he rasez,\nHurtez hem ful heterly þer he forth hy3ez,\n& mony ar3ed þerat, & onlyte dro3en.\nBot þe lorde on a ly3t horce launces hym after,\nHe rechated, & r[ode] þur3 ronez ful þyk,\nSuande þis wy[ld]e swyn til þe sunne schafted.\nÞis day wyth þis ilk dede þay dryuen on þis wyse,\nÞe lady no3t for3ate,\nCom to hym to salue,\nFul erly ho watz hym ate,\nHis mode forto remwe.\nHo commes to þe cortyn, & at þe kny3t totes,\nSir Wawen her welcumed worþy on fyrst,\n& ho hym 3eldez a3ayn, ful 3erne of hir wordez,\nSettez hir sof[t]ly by his syde, & swyþely ho la3ez,\n& wyth a luflych loke ho layde1 hym þyse wordez:\n“Sir, 3if 3e be Wawen, wonder me þynkkez,\nWy3e þat is so wel wrast alway to god,\n& connez not of compaynye þe costez vndertake,\n& if mon kennes yow hom to knowe, 3e kest hom of your mynde;\nÞou hatz for3eten 3ederly þat 3isterday I ta3tte\nBi alder-truest token of talk þat I cowþe.”\n“What is þat?” quod þe wyghe, “Iwysse I wot neuer,\nIf hit be sothe þat 3e breue, þe blame is myn awen.”\n“3et I kende yow of kyssyng,” quod þe clere þenne,\n“Quereso countenaunce is couþe, quikly to clayme,\nÞat bicumes vche a kny3t, þat cortaysy vses.”\n“Do way,” quod þat derf mon, “my dere, þat speche,\nFor þat durst I not do, lest I denayed were,\nIf I were werned, I were wrang Iwysse, 3if I profered.”\n“Ma fay,” quod þe mere wyf, “3e may not be werned,\n3e ar stif innoghe to constrayne wyth strenkþe,\n3if yow lykez, 3if any were so vilanous þat yow denaye wolde.”\n“3e, be God,” quod Gawayn, “good is your speche,\nBot þrete is vnþryuande in þede þer I lende,\n& vche gift þat is geuen not with goud wylle;\nI am at your comaundement, to kysse quen yow lykez,\n3e may lach quen yow lyst, & leue quen yow þynkkez,\nÞe lady loutez adoun,\n& comlyly kysses his face,\nMuch speche þay þer expoun,\nOf druryes greme & grace.\n“I woled wyt at yow, wy3e,” þat worþy þer sayde,\n“& yow wrathed not þerwyth, what were þe skylle,\nÞat so 3ong & so 3epe, as 3e [ar] at þis tyme,\nSo cortayse, so kny3tyly, as 3e ar knowen oute,\n& of alle cheualry to chose, þe chef þyng alosed,\nIs þe lel layk of luf, þe lettrure of armes;\nF[or] to telle of þis tenelyng of þis trwe kny3tez,\nHit is þe tytelet, token, & tyxt of her werkkez,\nHow le[des] for her lele luf hor lyuez han auntered,\nEndured for her drury dulful stoundez,\n& after wenged with her walour & voyded her care,\nand so renowned a knight,\n& bro3t blysse into boure, with bountees hor awen.\n& 3e ar kny3t comlokest kyd of your elde,\nYour worde & your worchip walkez ayquere,\n& I haf seten by yourself here sere twyes,\n3et herde I neuer of your hed helde no wordez\nÞat euer longed to luf, lasse ne more;\n& 3e, þat ar so cortays & coynt of your hetes,\nOghe to a 3onke þynk 3ern to schewe,\n& teche sum tokenez of trweluf craftes.\nWhy ar 3e lewed, þat alle þe los weldez,\nOþer elles 3e demen me to dille, your dalyaunce to herken?\nI com hider sengel, & sitte,\nTo lerne at yow sum game,\nDos, techez me of your wytte,\nWhil my lorde is fro hame.”\n“In goud fayþe,” quod Gawayn, “God yow for3elde,\nGret is þe gode gle, & gomen to me huge,\nÞat so worþy as 3e wolde wynne hidere,\n& pyne yow with so pouer a mon, as play wyth your kny3t,\nWith anyskynnez countenaunce, hit keuerez me ese;\nBot to take þe toruayle to my-self, to trwluf expoun,\n& towche þe temez of tyxt, & talez of armez,\nTo yow þat, I wot wel, weldez more sly3t\nOf þat art, bi þe half, or a hundreth of seche\nAs I am, oþer euer schal, in erde þer I leue,\nHit were a fole fele-folde, my fre, by my trawþe.\nI wolde yowre wylnyng worche at my my3t,\nAs I am hy3ly bihalden, & euermore wylle\nBe seruaunt to yourseluen, so saue me dry3tyn!”\nÞus hym frayned þat fre, & fondet hym ofte,\nFor to haf wonnen hym to wo3e, what-so scho þo3t ellez,\nBot he de fended hym so fayr, þat no faut semed,\nNe non euel on nawþer halue, nawþer þay wysten,\nÞay la3ed & layked longe,\n& went hir waye Iwysse.\nThen ruþes hym þe renk, & ryses to þe masse,\n& siþen hor diner watz dy3t & derely serued.\nÞe lede with þe ladyez layked alle day,\nBot þe lorde ouer þe londez launced ful ofte,\nSwez his vncely swyn, þat swyngez bi þe bonkkez,\n& bote þe best of his brachez þe bakkez in sunder;\nÞer he bode in his bay, tel bawemen hit breken,\n& made hym, mawgref his bed, forto mwe vtter;\nSo felle flonez per flete, when þe folk gedered;\nBot 3et þe styffest to start bi stoundez he made,\nTil at þe last he watz so mat, he my3t no more renne,\nBot in þe hast þat he my3t, he to a hole wynnez,\nOf a rasse, bi a rokk, þer rennez þe boerne.\nHe gete þe bonk at his bak, bigynez to scrape,\nÞe froþe femed at his mouth vnfayre bi þe wykez,\nWhettez his whyte tuschez; with hym þen irked\nAlle þe burnez so bolde, þat hym by stoden,\nTo nye hym on-ferum, bot ne3e hym non durst\nHe hade hurt so mony byforne,\nÞat al þu3t þenne ful loþe,\nBe more wyth his tusche3 torne,\nÞat breme watz [&] braynwod bothe.\nTil þe kny3t com hymself, kachande his blonk,\nSy3 hym byde at þe bay, his burnez bysyde,\nHe ly3tes luflych adoun, leuez his corsour,\nBraydez out a bry3t bront, & bigly forth strydez,\nFoundez fast þur3 þe forth, þer þe felle bydez,\nÞe wylde watz war of þe wy3e with weppen in honde,\nHef hy3ly þe here, so hetterly he fnast,\nÞat fele ferde for þe freke3, lest felle hym þe worre;\nÞat þe burne & þe bor were boþe vpon hepez,\nIn þe wy3test of þe water, þe worre hade þat oþer;\n& he 3arrande hym 3elde, & 3edoun þe water,\nA hundreth houndez hym hent,\nÞat bremely con hym bite,\nBurnez him bro3t to bent,\n& doggez to dethe endite.\nThere watz blawyng of prys in mony breme home,\nHe3e halowing on hi3e, with haþelez þat my3t;\nBrachetes bayed þat best, as bidden þe maysterez,\nOf þat chargeaunt chace þat were chef huntes.\nÞenne a wy3e þat watz wys vpon wodcraftez,\nTo vnlace þis bor lufly bigynnez.\nFyrst he hewes of his hed, & on hi3e settez,\n& syþen rendez him al roghe bi þe rygge after,\nBraydez out þe boweles, brennez hom on glede,\nWith bred blent þerwith his braches rewardez;\nSyþen he britnez out þe brawen in bry3t brode [s]cheldez,\n& hatz out þe hastlettez, as hi3tly bisemez;\n& 3et hem halchez al hole þe haluez togeder,\n& syþen on a stif stange stoutly hem henges.\nNow with þis ilk swyn þay swengen to home;\nÞe bores hed watz borne bifore þe burnes seluen,\nÞat him forferde in þe forþe, þur3 forse of his honde,\nTil he se3 sir Gawayne,\nIn halle hym þo3t ful longe,\nHe calde, & he com gayn,\nHis feez þer for to fonge.\nÞe lorde ful lowde with lote, & la3ed myry,\nWhen he se3e sir G: with solace he spekez;\nÞe goude ladyez were geten, & gedered þe meyny,\nHe schewez hem þe scheldez, & schapes hem þe tale,\nOf þe largesse, & þe lenþe, þe liþernez alse,\nOf þe were of þe wylde swyn, in wod þer he fled.\nÞat oþer kny3t ful comly comended his dedez,\n& praysed hit as gret prys, þat he proued hade;\nFor suche a brawne of a best, þe bolde burne sayde,\nNe such sydes of a swyn, segh he neuer are.\nÞenne hondeled þay þe hoge hed, þe hende mon hit praysed,\n& let lodly þerat þe lorde forte here:\n“Now Gawayn,” quod þe god mon, “þis gomen is your awen,\nBi fyn forwarde & faste, faythely 3e knowe.”\n“Hit is sothe,” quod þe segge, “& as siker trwe;\nAlle my get I schal yow gif agayn, bi my trawþe.”\nHe [hent] þe haþel aboute þe halse, & hendely hym kysses,\n& eftersones of þe same he serued hym þere.\n“Now ar we euen,” quod þe haþel, “in þis euentide,\nOf alle þe couenauntes þat we knyt, syþen I com hider,\nÞe lorde sayde, “bi saynt Gile,\n3e ar þe best þat I knowe,\n3e ben ryche in a whyle,\nSuch chaffer & 3e drowe.”\nÞenne þay teldet tablez [on] trestes alofte,\nKesten cloþe3 vpon, clere ly3t þenne\nWakned bi wo3ez, waxen torches\nSeggez sette, & serued in sale al aboute;\nMuch glam & gle glent vp þer-inne,\nAboute þe fyre vpon flet, & on fele wyse,\nAt þe soper & after, mony aþel songez,\nAs coundutes of krystmasse, & carolez newe,\nWith alle þe manerly merþe þat mon may of telle.\n& euer oure luflych kny3t þe lady bi-syde;\nSuch semblaunt to þat segge semly ho made,\nWyth stille stollen countenaunce, þat stalworth to plese,\nÞat al forwondered watz þe wy3e, & wroth with hymseluen,\nBot he nolde not for his nurture nurne hir a3aynez,\nBot dalt with hir al in daynte, how-se-euer þe dede turned\nQuen þay hade played in halle,\nAs longe as hor wylle hom last,\nTo chambre he con hym calle,\n& to þe chemne þay past.\nAnde þer þay dronken, & dalten, & demed eft nwe,\nTo norne on þe same note, on nwe3erez euen;\nBot þe kny3t craued leue, to kayre on þe morn,\nFor hit watz ne3 at þe terme, þat he to schulde.\nÞe lorde hym letted of þat, to lenge hym resteyed,\n& sayde, “as I am trwe segge, I siker my trawþe,\nÞou schal cheue to þe grene chapel, þy charres to make,\nLeude, on nw 3erez ly3t, longe bifore pryme:\nForþy þow lye in þy loft, & lach þyn ese,\n& I schal hunt in þis holt, & halde þe towchez,\nChaunge wyth þe cheuisaunce, bi þat I charre hider;\nFor I haf fraysted þe twys, & faythful I fynde þe,\nNow þrid tyme þrowe best þenk on þe morne,\nMake we mery quyl we may, & mynne vpon Ioye,\nFor þe lur may mon lach, when-so mon lykez.”\nÞis watz grayþely graunted, & Gawayn is lenged,\nBliþe bro3t watz hym drynk, & þay to bedde 3eden,\nSir Gawayn lis & slepes,\nFul stille & softe al ni3t;\nÞe lorde þat his crafte3 kepes,\nFul erly he watz di3t.\nAfter messe a morsel he & his men token,\nMiry watz þe mornyng, his mounture he askes;\nAlle þe haþeles þat on horse schulde helden hym after,\nWere boun busked on hor blonkke3, bifore þe halle 3atez;\nFerly fayre watz þe folde, for þe forst clenged,\nIn rede rudede vpon rak rises þe sunne,\n& ful clere costez þe clowdes of þe welkyn.\nHunteres vnhardeled bi a holt syde,\nRocheres roungen bi rys, for rurde of her hornes;\nSumme fel in þe fute, þer þe fox bade,\nTraylez ofte a trayteres, bi traunt of her wyles;\nA kenet kryes þerof, þe hunt on hym calles,\nHis fela3es fallen hym to, þat fnasted ful þike,\nRunnen forth in a rabel, in his ry3t fare;\n& he fyskez hem byfore; þay founden hym sone,\n& quen þay seghe hym with sy3t, þay sued hym fast,\nWre3ande h[ym] ful [w]eterly with a wroth noyse;\n& he trantes & tornayeez þur3 mony tene greue;\nHamlounez, & herkenez, bi heggez ful ofte;\nAt þe last bi a littel dich he lepez ouer a spenné,\nStelez out ful stilly bi a strothe rande,\nand by a rugged path seeks to get clear from the hounds.\nWent haf wylt of þe wode, with wylez fro þe houndes,\nÞenne watz he went, er he wyst, to5 a wale tryster,\nÞer þre þro at a þrich þrat hym at ones, al graye;\nHe blenched a3ayn bilyue,\n& stifly start onstray,\nWith alle þe wo on lyue,\nTo þe wod he went away.\nThenne watz hit lif vpon list to lyþen þe houndez,\nWhen alle þe mute hade hym met, menged togeder,\nSuche a sor3e at þat sy3t þay sette on his hede,\nAs alle þe clamberande clyffes hade clatered on hepes;\nHere he watz halawed, when haþelez hym metten,\nLoude he watz 3ayned, with 3arande speche;\nÞer he watz þreted, & ofte þef called,\n& ay þe titleres at his tayl, þat tary he ne my3t;\nOfte he watz runnen at, when he out rayked,\n& ofte reled in a3ayn, so reniarde watz wylé.\n& 3e he lad hem bi lag, mon, þe lorde & his meyny;\nOn þis maner bi þe mountes, quyle myd-ouer-vnder,\nWhyle þe hende kny3t at home holsumly slepes,\nWithinne þe comly cortynes, on þe colde morne.\nBot þe lady for luf let not to slepe,\nNe þe purpose to payre, þat py3t in hir hert,\nBot ros hir vp radly, rayked hir þeder,\nIn a mery mantyle, mete to þe erþe,\nÞat watz furred ful fyne with fellez, wel pured,\nNo hwe3 goud on hir hede, bot þe ha3er stones\nTrased aboute hir tressour, be twenty in clusteres;\nHir þryuen face & hir þrote þrowen al naked,\nHir brest bare bifore, & bihinde eke.\nHo comez withinne þe chambre dore, & closes hit hir after,\nWaynez vp a wyndow, & on þe wy3e callez,\n& radly þus rehayted hym, with hir riche worde3,\n“A! mon, how may þou slepe,\nÞis morning is so clere?”\nHe watz in drowping depe,\nBot þenne he con hir here.\nIn dre3 droupyng of dreme draueled þat noble,\nAs mon þat watz in mornyng of mony þro þo3tes,\nHow þat destiné schulde þat day [dy3t] his wyrde,\nAt þe grene chapel, when he þe gome metes,\n& bihoues his buffet abide, withoute debate more;\nBot quen þat comly he keuered his wyttes,\nSwenges out of þe sweuenes, & swarez with hast.\nÞe lady luflych com la3ande swete,\nFelle ouer his fayre face, & fetly him kyssed;\nHe welcumez hir worþily, with a wale chere;\nHe se3 hir so glorious, & gayly atyred,\nSo fautles of hir fetures, & of so fyne hewes,\nWi3t wallande Ioye warmed his hert;\nWith smoþe smylyng & smolt þay smeten into merþe,\nÞat al watz blis & bonchef, þat breke hem bitwene,\nÞay lanced wordes gode,\nMuch wele þen watz þerinne,\nGret perile bitwene hem stod,\nNif mare of hir kny3t mynne.\nFor þat prynce of pris depresed hym so þikke.\nNurned hym so ne3e þe þred, þat nede hym bihoued,\nOþer lach þer hir luf, oþer lodly refuse;\nHe cared for his cortaysye, lest craþayn he were,\n& more for his meschef, 3if he schulde make synne,\n& be traytor to þat tolke, þat þat telde a3t.\n“God schylde,” quod þe schalk, “þat schal not befalle!”\nWith luf-la3yng a lyt, he layd hym bysyde\nAlle þe spechez of specialté þat sprange of her mouthe.\nQuod þat burde to þe burne, “blame 3e disserue,\n3if 3e luf not þat lyf þat 3e lye nexte,\nBifore alle þe wy3ez in þe worlde, wounded in hert,\nBot if 3e haf a lemman, a leuer, þat yow lykez better,\n& folden fayth to þat fre, festned so harde,\nÞat yow lausen ne lyst--& þat I leue nouþe;\nAnd þat 3e telle me þat, now trwly I pray yow,\nFor alle þe lufez vpon lyue, layne not þe soþe,\nÞe kny3t sayde, “be sayn Ion,”\n& smeþely con he smyle,\n“In fayth I welde ri3t non,\nNe non wil welde þe quile.”\n“Þat is a worde,” quod þat wy3t, “þat worst is of alle,\nBot I am swared for soþe, þat sore me þinkkez;\nKysse me now coraly, & I schal cach heþen,\nI may bot mourne vpon molde, as may þat much louyes.”\nSykande ho swe3e doun, & semly hym kyssed,\n& siþen ho seueres hym fro, & says as ho stondes,\n“Now, dere, at þis departyng, do me þis ese,\nGif me sumquat of þy gifte, þi gloue if hit were,\nÞat I may mynne on þe mon, my mournyng to lassen.”\n“Now Iwysse,” quod þat wy3e, “I wolde I hade here\nÞe leuest þing for þy luf, þat I in londe welde,\nFor 3e haf deserued, forsoþe, sellyly ofte\nMore rewarde bi resoun, þen I reche my3t,\nBot to dele yow for drurye, þat dawed bot neked;\nHit is not your honour to haf at þis tyme\nA gloue for a garysoun, of Gawaynez giftez,\n& I am here [on] an erande in erdez vncouþe,\n& haue no men wyth no malez, with menskful þingez;\nÞat mislykez me, ladé, for luf at þis tyme,\nIche tolke mon do as he is tan, tas to non ille,\n“Nay, hende of hy3e honours,”\nQuod þat lufsum vnder lyne,\n“Þa3 I hade o3t of yourez,\n3et schulde 3e haue of myne.”\nHo ra3t hym a riche rynk of red golde werkez,\nWyth a starande ston, stondande alofte,\nÞat bere blusschande bemez as þe bry3t sunne;\nWyt 3e wel, hit watz worth wele ful hoge.\nBot þe renk hit renayed, & redyly he sayde,\n“I wil no giftez for gode, my gay, at þis tyme;\nI haf none yow to norne, ne no3t wyl I take.”\nHo bede hit hym ful bysily, & he hir bode wernes,\n& swere swyftel[y] his sothe, þat he hit sese nolde;\n& ho sore þat he forsoke, & sayde þerafter,\n“If 3e renay my rynk, to ryche for hit semez,\n3e wolde not so hy3ly halden be to me,\nI schal gif yow my girdel, þat gaynes yow lasse.”\nHo la3t a lace ly3tly, þat leke vmbe hir sydez,\nKnit vpon hir kyrtel, vnder þe clere mantyle,\nGered hit watz with grene sylke, & with golde schaped,\nNo3t bot arounde brayden, beten with fyngrez;\n& þat ho bede to þe burne, & blyþely biso3t\nÞa3 hit vn-worþi were, þat he hit take wolde.\n& he nay þat he nolde neghe in no wyse,\nNauþer golde ne garysoun, er God hym grace sende,\nTo acheue to þe chaunce þat he hade chosen þere.\n“& þerfore, I pray yow, displese yow no3t,\n& lettez be your bisinesse, for I bayþe hit yow neuer\nI am derely to yow biholde,\nBicause of your sembelaunt,\n& euer in hot & colde\nTo be your trwe seruaunt.\n“Now forsake 3e þis silke.” sayde þe burde þenne,\n“For hit is symple in hit-self. & so hit wel semez?\nLo! so hit is littel, & lasse hit is worþy;\nBot whoso knew þe costes þat knit ar þerinne,\nHe wolde hit prayse at more prys, parauenture;\nFor quat gome so is gorde with þis grene lace,\nWhile he hit hade hemely halched aboute,\nÞer is no haþel vnder heuen to-hewe hym þat my3t;\nFor he my3t not he slayn, for sly3t vpon erþe.”\nÞen kest þe kny3t, & hit come to his hert,\nHit were a Iuel for þe Iopardé, þat hym iugged were,\nWhen he acheued to þe chapel, his chek forto fech;\nMy3t he haf slypped to þe vnslayn, þe sle3t were noble.\nÞenne ho þulged with hir þrepe, & þoled hir to speke,\n& ho bere on hym þe belt, & bede hit hym swyþe,\n& he granted, & [ho] hym gafe with a goud wylle,\n& biso3t hym, for hir sake, disceuer hit neuer,\nBot to lelly layne for hir lorde; þe leude hym acordez.\nÞat neuer wy3e schulde hit wyt, Iwysse, bot þay twayne,\nHe þonkked hir oft ful swyþe,\nFul þro with hert & þo3t.\nBi þat on þrynne syþe,\nHo hatz kyst þe kny3t so to3t.\nThenne lachchez ho hir leue, & leuez hym þere,\nFor more myrþe of þat mon mo3t ho not gete;\nWhen ho watz gon, sir Gawayn gerez hym sone,\nRises, & riches hym in araye noble,\nLays vp þe luf-lace, þe lady hym ra3t,\nHid hit ful holdely, þer he hit eft fonde;\nSyþen cheuely to þe chapel choses he þe waye,\nPreuely aproched to a prest, & prayed hym þere\nÞat he wolde lyfte his lyf, & lern hym better,\nHow his sawle schulde be saued, when he schuld seye heþen.\nÞere he schrof hym schyrly, & schewed his mysdedez,\nOf þe more & þe mynne, & merci besechez,\n& of absolucioun he on þe segge calles;\n& he asoyled hym surely, & sette hym so clene,\nAs domezday schulde haf ben di3t on þe morn.\n& syþen he mace hym as mery among þe fre ladyes,\nWith comlych caroles, & alle kynnes ioye,\nAs neuer he did bot þat daye, to þe derk ny3t,\nVche mon hade daynte þare,\nOf hym, & sayde Iwysse,\nÞus myry he watz neuer are,\nSyn he com hider, er þis.\nNow hym lenge in þat lee, þer luf hym bityde;\n3et is þe lorde on þe launde, ledande his gomnes,\nHe hatz forfaren þis fox, þat he fol3ed longe;\nAs he sprent ouer a spenné, to spye þe schrewe,\nÞer as he herd þe howndes, þat hasted hym swyþe,\nRenaud com richchande þur3 a ro3e greue,\n& alle þe rabel in a res, ry3t at his helez.\nÞe wy3e watz war of þe wylde, & warly abides,\n& brayde3 out þe bry3t bronde, & at þe best castez;\n& he schunt for þe scharp, & schulde haf arered,\nA rach rapes hym to, ry3t er he my3t,\n& ry3t bifore þe hors fete þay fel on hym alle,\n& woried me þis wyly wyth a wroth noyse.\nÞe lorde ly3tez bilyue, & cachez by sone,\nRased hym ful radly out of þe rach mouþes,\nHaldez he3e ouer his hede, halowez faste,\n& þer bayen hym mony bray houndez;\nHuntes hy3ed hem þeder, with hornez ful mony,\nAy rechatande ary3t til þay þe renk se3en;\nBi þat watz comen his compeyny noble,\nAlle þat euer ber bugle blowed at ones,\n& alle þise oþer halowed, þat hade no hornes,\nHit watz þe myriest mute þat euer men herde,\nÞe rich rurd þat þer watz raysed for renaude saule,\nHor houndez þay þer rewarde,\nHer hedez þay fawne & frote,\n& syþen þay tan reynarde,\n& tyrnen of his cote.\n& þenne þay helden to home, for hit watz nie3 ny3t,\nStrakande ful stoutly in hor store hornez;\nÞe lorde is ly3t at þe laste at hys lef home,\nFyndez fire vpon flet, þe freke þer by-side,\nSir Gawayn þe gode, þat glad watz with alle,\nAmong þe ladies for luf he ladde much ioye,\nHe were a bleaunt of blwe, þat bradde to þe erþe,\nHis surkot semed hym wel, þat softe watz forred,\n& his hode of þat ilke henged on his schulder,\nBlande al of blaunner were boþe al aboute.\nHe metez me þis god mon inmyddez þe flore,\n& al with gomen he hym gret, & goudly he sayde,\n“I schal fylle vpon fyrst oure forwardez nouþe,\nÞat we spedly han spoken, þer spared watz no drynk;”\nÞen acoles he [þe] kny3t, & kysses hym þryes,\nAs sauerly & sadly as he hem sette couþe.\n“Bi Kryst,” quod þat oþer kny3t, “3e cach much sele,\nIn cheuisaunce of þis chaffer, 3if 3e hade goud chepez.”\n“3e of þe chepe no charg,” quod chefly þat oþer,\n“As is pertly payed þe chepez þat I a3te.”\n“Mary,” quod þat oþer mon, “myn is bihynde,\nFor I haf hunted al þis day, & no3t haf I geten,\nBot þis foule fox felle, þe fende haf þe godez,\n& þat is ful pore, for to pay for suche prys þinges,\nAs 3e haf þry3t me here, þro suche þre cosses,\n“Ino3,” quod sir Gawayn,\n“I þonk yow, bi þe rode;”\n& how þe fox watz slayn,\nHe tolde hym, as þay stode.\nWith merþe & mynstralsye, wyth metez at hor wylle,\nÞay maden as mery as any men mo3ten,\nWith la3yng of ladies, with lotez of bordes;\nGawayn & þe gode mon so glad were þay boþe,\nBot if þe douthe had doted, oþer dronken ben oþer,\nBoþe þe mon & þe meyny maden mony iapez,\nTil þe sesoun watz se3en, þat þay seuer moste;\nBurnez to hor bedde behoued at þe laste.\nÞenne lo3ly his leue at þe lorde fyrst\nFochchez þis fre mon, & fayre he hym þonkkez;\n“Of such a sellyly soiorne, as I haf hade here,\nYour honour, at þis hy3e fest, þe hy3e kyng yow 3elde!\nI 3ef yow me for on of yourez, if yowreself lykez,\nFor I mot nedes, as 3e wot, meue to morne;\n& 3e me take sum tolke, to teche, as 3e hy3t,\nÞe gate to þe grene chapel, as god wyl me suffer\nTo dele, on nw 3erez day, þe dome of my wyrdes.”\n“In god fayþe,” quod þe god mon, “wyth a goud wylle;\nAl þat euer I yow hy3t, halde schal I rede.”\nÞer asyngnes he a seruaunt, to sett hym in þe waye,\n& coundue hym by þe downez, þat he no drechch had,\nFor to f[e]rk þur3 þe fryth, & fare at þe gaynest,\nÞe lorde Gawayn con þonk,\nSuch worchip he wolde hym weue;\nÞen at þo ladyez wlonk.\nÞe kny3t hatz tan his leue.\nWith care & wyth kyssyng he carppez hem tille,\n& fele þryuande þonkkez he þrat hom to haue,\n& þay 3elden hym a3ay[n] 3eply þat ilk;\nÞay bikende hym to Kryst, with ful colde sykyngez.\nSyþen fro þe meyny he menskly departes;\nVche mon þat he mette, he made hem a þonke,\nFor his seruyse, & his solace, & his sere pyne,\nÞat þay wyth busynes had ben, aboute hym to serue;\n& vche segge as sore, to seuer with hym þere,\nAs þay hade wonde worþyly with þat wlonk euer.\nÞen with ledes & ly3t he watz ladde to his chambre,\n& blybely bro3t to his bedde, to be at his rest;\n3if he ne slepe soundyly, say ne dar I,\nFor he hade muche on þe morn to mynne, 3if he wolde, in þo3t;\nLet hym ly3e þere stille,\nHe hatz nere þat he so3t,\n& 3e wyl a whyle be stylle,\nI schal telle yow how þay wro3t.\nNow ne3ez þe nw 3ere, & þe ny3t passez,\nÞe day dryuez to þe derk, as dry3tyn biddez;\nBot wylde wederez of þe worlde wakned þeroute,\nClowdes kesten kenly þe colde to þe erþe,\nWyth ny3e innoghe of þe norþe, þe naked to tene;\nÞe snawe snitered ful snart, þat snayped þe wylde;\nÞe werbelande wynde wapped fro þe hy3e,\n& drof vche dale ful of dryftes ful grete.\nÞe leude lystened ful wel, þat le3 in his bedde,\nÞa3 he lowkez his liddez, ful lyttel he slepes;\nBi vch kok þat crue, he knwe wel þe steuen.\nDeliuerly he dressed vp, er þe day sprenged,\nFor þere watz ly3t of a lau[m]pe, þat lemed in his chambre;\nHe called to his chamberlayn, þat cofly hym swared,\n& bede hym bryng hym his bruny, & his blonk sadel;\nÞat oþer ferkez hym vp, & fechez hym his wedez,\n& grayþez me sir Gawayn vpon a grett wyse.\nFyrst he clad hym in his cloþez, þe colde for to were;\n& syþen his oþer harnays, þat holdely watz keped,\nBoþe his paunce, & his platez, piked ful clene,\nÞe ryngez rokked of þe roust, of his riche bruny;\n& al watz fresch as vpon fyrst, & he watz fayn þenne\nHe hade vpon vche pece,\nWypped ful wel & wlonk;\nÞe gayest in to Grece,\nÞe burne bede bryng his blonk.\nWhyle þe wlonkest wedes he warp on hym-seluen;\nHis cote, wyth be conysaunce of þe clere werkez,\nEnnurned vpon veluet vertuuus stonez,\nAboute beten, & bounden, enbrauded semez,\n& fayre furred with-inne wyth fayre pelures.\n3et laft he not þe lace, þe ladiez gifte,\nÞat for-gat not Gawayn, for gode of hymseluen;\nBi he hade belted þe bronde vpon his bal3e haunchez,\nÞenn dressed he his drurye double hym aboute;\nSwyþe sweþled vmbe his swange swetely, þat kny3t,\nÞe gordel of þe grene silke, þat gay wel bisemed,\nVpon þat ryol red cloþe, þat ryche watz to schewe.\nBot wered not þis ilk wy3e for wele þis gordel,\nFor pryde of þe pendauntez, þa3 polyst þay were,\n& þa3 þe glyterande golde glent vpon endez,\nBot forto sauen hymself, when suffer hym byhoued,\nTo byde bale with-oute dabate, of bronde hym to were,\nBi þat þe bolde mon boun,\nWynnez þeroute bilyue,\nAlle þe meyny of renoun,\nHe þonkkez ofte ful ryue.\nThenne watz Gryngolet grayþe, þat gret watz & huge,\n& hade ben soiourned sauerly, & in a siker wyse,\nHym lyst prik for poynt, þat proude hors þenne;\nÞe wy3e wynnez hym to, & wytez on his lyre,\n& sayde soberly hymself, & by his soth swerez,\n“Here is a meyny in þis mote, þat on menske þenkkez,\nÞe mon hem maynteines, ioy mot þay haue;\nÞe leue lady, on lyue luf hir bityde;\n3if þay for charyté cherysen a gest,\n& halden honour in her honde, þe haþel hem 3elde,\nÞat haldez þe heuen vpon hy3e, & also yow alle!\n& 3if I my3t lyf vpon londe lede any quyle,\nI schuld rech yow sum rewarde redyly, if I my3t.”\nÞenn steppez he into stirop, & strydez alofte;\nHis schalk schewed hym his schelde, on schulder he hit la3t,\nGordez to Gryngolet, with his gilt helez,\n& he startez on þe ston, stod he no lenger,\nHis haþel on hors watz þenne,\nÞat bere his spere & launce.\n“Þis kastel to Kryst I kenne,\nHe gef hit ay god chaunce!”\nThe brygge watz brayde doun, & þe brode 3atez\nVnbarred, & born open, vpon boþe halue;\nÞe burne blessed hym bilyue, & þe bredez passed;\nPrayses þe porter, bifore þe prynce kneled,\nGef hym God & goud day, þat Gawayn he saue;\n& went on his way, with his wy3e one,\nÞat schulde teche hym to tourne to þat tene place,\nÞer þe ruful race he schulde re-sayue.\nÞay bo3en bi bonkkez, þer bo3e3 ar bare,\nThey climb by cliffs,\nÞay clomben bi clyffez, þer clengez þe colde;\nÞe heuen watz vphalt, bot vgly þer-vnder,\nMist muged on þe mor, malt on þe mountez,\nVch hille hade a hatte, a myst-hakel huge;\nBrokez byled, & breke, bi bonkkez aboute,\nSchyre schaterande on schorez, þer þay doun schowued.\nWelawylle watz þe way, þer þay bi wod schulden,\nTil hit watz sone sesoun, þat þe sunne ryses,\nÞay were on a hille ful hy3e,\nÞe quyte snaw lay bisyde;\nÞe burne þat rod hym by\nBede his mayster abide.\n“For I haf wonnen yow hider, wy3e, at þis tyme,\n& now nar 3e not fer fro þat note place,\nÞat 3e han spied & spuryed so specially after;\nBot I schal say yow for soþe, syþen I yow knowe,\n& 3e ar a lede vpon lyue, þat I wel louy,\nWolde 3e worch bi my wytte, 3e worþed þe better.\nÞe place þat 3e prece to, ful perelous is halden;\nÞer wonez a wy3e in þat waste, þe worst vpon erþe;\nFor he is stiffe, & sturne, & to strike louies,\n& more he is þen any mon vpon myddelerde,\n& his body bigger þen þe best fowre.\nÞat ar in Arþurez hous, Hestor oþer oþer.\nHe cheuez þat chaunce at þe chapel grene;\nÞer passes non bi þat place, so proude in his armes,\nÞat he ne dyngez hym to deþe, with dynt of his honde;\nFor he is a mon methles, & mercy non vses,\nFor be hit chorle, oþer chaplayn, þat bi þe chapel rydes,\nMonk, oþer masseprest, oþer any mon elles,\nHym þynk as queme hym to quelle, as quyk go hym seluen.\nForþy I say þe as soþe as 3e in sadel sitte,\nCom 3e þere, 3e be kylled, [I] may þe kny3t rede,\nTrawe 3e me þat trwely, þa3 3e had twenty lyues\nHe hatz wonyd here ful 3ore,\nOn bent much baret bende,\nA3ayn his dyntez sore,\n3e may not yow defende.”\n“Forþy, goude sir Gawayn, let þe gome one,\n& gotz away sum oþer gate; vpon Goddez halue;\nCayrez bi sum oþer kyth, þer Kryst mot yow spede;\n& I schal hy3 me hom a3ayn, & hete yow fyrre,\nÞat I schal swere bi God, & alle his gode hal3ez,\nAs help me God & þe halydam, & oþez innoghe,\nÞat I schal lelly yow layne, & lance neuer tale,\nÞat euer 3e fondet to fle, for freke þat I wyst.”\n“Grant merci;” quod Gawayn, & gruchyng he sayde,\n“Wel worth þe wy3e, þat woldez my gode,\n& þat lelly me layne, I leue wel þou woldez!\nBot helde þou hit neuer so holde, & I here passed,\nFounded for ferde for to fle, in fourme þat þou tellez,\nI were a kny3t kowarde, I my3t not be excused.\nBot I wy1 to þe chape1, for chaunce þat may falle,\n& talk wyth þat ilk tulk þe tale þat me lyste,\nWorþe hit wele, oþer wo, as þe wyrde lykez hit hafe;\nÞa3e he be a sturn knape,\nTo sti3tel, & stad with staue,\n“Full well can God devise his servants for to save.”\nFul wel con dry3tyn schape,\nHis seruauntez forto saue.”\n“Mary!” quod þat oþer mon, “now þou so much spellez,\nÞat þou wylt þyn awen nye nyme to þyseluen,\n& þe lyst lese þy lyf, þe lette I ne kepe;\nHaf here þi helme on þy hede, þi spere in þi honde,\n& ryde me doun þis ilk rake, bi 3on rokke syde,\ntill thou come to the bottom of the valley;\nTil þou be bro3t to þe boþem of þe brem valay;\nÞenne loke a littel on þe launde, on þi lyfte honde,\n& þou schal se in þat slade þe self chapel,\n& þe borelych burne on bent, þat hit kepez.\nNow farez wel on Godez half, Gawayn þe noble,\nFor alle þe golde vpon grounde I nolde go with þe,\nNe bere þe fela3schip þur3 þis fryth on fote fyrre.”\nBi þat þe wy3e in þe wod wendez his brydel,\nHit þe hors with þe helez, as harde as he my3t,\nLepez hym ouer þe launde, & leuez þe kny3t þere, al one.\n“Bi Goddez self,” quod Gawayn,\n“I wyl nauþer grete ne grone,\nTo Goddez wylle I am ful bayn,\n& to hym I haf me tone.”\nThenne gyrdez he to Gryngolet, & gederez þe rake,\nSchowuez in bi a schore, at a scha3e syde,\nRidez þur3 þe ro3e bonk, ry3t to þe dale;\n& þenne he wayted hym aboute, & wylde hit hym þo3t,\n& se3e no syngne of resette, bisydez nowhere,\nBot hy3e bonkkez & brent, vpon boþe halue,\n& ru3e knokled knarrez, with knorned stonez;\nÞe skwez of þe scowtes skayued hym þo3t.\nÞenne he houed, & wythhylde his hors at þat tyde,\n& ofte chaunged his cher, þe chapel to seche;\nHe se3 non suche in no syde, & selly hym þo3t,\nSone a lyttel on a launde, a lawe as hit we[re];\nA bal3 ber3, bi a bonke, þe brymme by-syde,\nBi a for3 of a flode, þat ferked þare;\nÞe borne blubred þer-inne, as hit boyled hade.\nÞe kny3t kachez his caple, & com to þe lawe,\nLi3tez doun luflyly, & at a lynde tachez\nÞe rayne, & his riche, with a ro3e braunche;\nÞen[n]e he bo3ez to þe ber3e, aboute hit he walkez,\nD[e]batande with hymself, quat hit be my3t.\nHit hade a hole on þe ende, & on ayþer syde,\n& ouergrowen with gresse in glodes ay where,\n& al watz hol3 in-with, nobot an olde caue,\nOr a creuisse of an olde cragge, he couþe hit no3t deme with spelle,\n“We, lorde,” quod þe gentyle kny3t,\n“Wheþer þis be þe grene chapelle;\nHe my3t aboute myd-ny3t,\n[Þ]e dele his matynnes telle!”\n“Now iwysse,” quod Wowayn, “wysty is here;\nÞis oritore is vgly, wi