Fitt I

Siþen þe sege & þe assaut watȝ sesed at Troye,
Þe borȝ brittened & brent to brondeȝ & askeȝ,
Þe tulk þat þe trammes of tresoun þer wroȝt,
Watȝ tried for his tricherie, þe trewest on erthe;
Hit watȝ Ennias þe athel, & his highe kynde,
Þat siþen depreced prouinces, & patrounes bicome
Welneȝe of al þe wele in þe west iles,
Fro riche Romulus to Rome ricchis hym swyþe,
With gret bobbaunce þat burȝe he biges vpon fyrst,
& neuenes hit his aune nome, as hit now hat;
Ticius to Tuskan [turnes,] & teldes bigynnes;
Langaberde in Lumbardie lyftes vp homes;
& fer ouer þe French flod Felix Brutus
On mony bonkkes ful brode Bretayn he setteȝ,
wyth wynne;
Where werre, & wrake, & wonder,
Bi syþeȝ hatȝ wont þer-inne,
& oft boþe blysse & blunder
Ful skete hatȝ skyfted synne.

Ande quen þis Bretayn watȝ bigged bi þis burn rych,
Bolde bredden þer-inne, baret þat lofden,
In mony turned tyme tene þat wroȝten;
Mo ferlyes on þis folde han fallen here oft
Þen in any oþer þat I wot, syn þat ilk tyme.
Bot of alle þat here bult of Bretaygne kynges
Ay watȝ Arthur þe hendest; as I haf herde telle;
For-þi an aunter in erde I attle to schawe,
Þat a selly in siȝt summe men hit holden,
& an outtrage awenture of Arthureȝ wondereȝ;
If ȝe wyl lysten þis laye bot on littel quile,
I schal telle hit, as-tit, as I in toun herde,
with tonge;
As hit is stad & stoken,
In stori stif & stronge,
With lel letteres loken,
In londe so hatȝ ben longe.

Þis kyng lay at Camylot vpon kryst-masse,
With mony luflych lorde, ledeȝ of þe best,
Rekenly of þe rounde table alle þo rich breþer,
With rych reuel oryȝt, & rechles merþes;
Þer tournayed tulkes bi-tymeȝ ful mony,
Iusted ful Iolilé þise gentyle kniȝtes,
Syþen kayred to þe court, caroles to make.
For þer þe fest watȝ ilyche ful fiften dayes,
With alle þe mete & þe mirþe þat men couþe a-vyse;
Such glaumande gle glorious to here,
Dere dyn vp-on day, daunsyng on nyȝtes,
Al watȝ hap vpon heȝe in halleȝ & chambreȝ,
With lordeȝ & ladies, as leuest him þoȝt;
With all þe wele of þe worlde þay woned þer samen,
Þe most kyd knyȝteȝ vnder kryste seluen,
& þe louelokkest ladies þat euer lif haden,
& he þe comlokest kyng þat þe court haldes;
For al watȝ þis fayre folk in her first age,
on sille;
Þe hapnest vnder heuen,
Kyng hyȝest mon of wylle,
Hit were now gret nye to neuen
So hardy a here on hille.

Wyle nw ȝer watȝ so ȝep þat hit watȝ nwe cummen,
Þat day doubble on þe dece watȝ þe douth serued,
Fro þe kyng watȝ cummen with knyȝtes in to þe halle,
Þe chauntre of þe chapel cheued to an ende;
Loude crye watȝ þer kest of clerkeȝ & oþer,
Nowel nayted o-newe, neuened ful ofte;
& syþen riche forth runnen to reche honde-selle,
ȝeȝed ȝeres ȝiftes on hiȝ, ȝelde hem bi hond,
Debated busyly aboute þo giftes;
Ladies laȝed ful loude, þoȝ þay lost haden,
& he þat wan watȝ not wrothe, þat may ȝe wel trawe.
Alle þis mirþe þay maden to þe mete tyme;
When þay had waschen, worþyly þay wenten to sete,
Þe best burne ay abof, as hit best semed;
Whene Guenore ful gay, grayþed in þe myddes.
Dressed on þe dere des, dubbed al aboute,
Smal sendal bisides, a selure hir ouer
Of tryed Tolouse, of Tars tapites in-noghe,
Þat were enbrawded & beten wyth þe best gemmes,
Þat myȝt be preued of prys wyth penyes to bye,
in daye;
Þe comlokest to discrye,
Þer glent with yȝen gray,
A semloker þat euer he syȝe,
Soth moȝt no mon say.

Bot Arthure wolde not ete til al were serued,
He watȝ so Ioly of his Ioyfnes, & sum-quat child gered,
His lif liked hym lyȝt, he louied þe lasse
Auþer to lenge lye, or to longe sitte,
So bi-sied him his ȝonge blod & his brayn wylde;
& also anoþer maner meued him eke,
Þat he þurȝ nobelay had nomen, ho wolde neuer ete
Vpon such a dere day, er hym deuised were
Of sum auenturus þyng an vncouþe tale,
Of sum mayn meruayle, þat he myȝt trawe,
Of alderes, of armes, of oþer auenturus,
Oþer sum segg hym bi-soȝt of sum siker knyȝt,
To Ioyne wyth hym in iustyng in Iopardé to lay,
Lede lif for lyf, leue vchon oþer,
As fortune wolde fulsun hom þe fayrer to haue.
Þis watȝ [þe] kynges countenaunce where he in court were,
At vch farand fest among his fre meny,
in halle;
Þer-fore of face so fere.
He stiȝtleȝ stif in stalle,
Ful ȝep in þat nw ȝere,
Much mirthe he mas with alle.

Thus þer stondes in stale þe stif kyng his-seluen,
Talkkande bifore þe hyȝe table of trifles ful hende
There gode Gawan watȝ grayþed, Gwenore bisyde
& Agrauayn a la dure mayn on þat oþer syde sittes
Boþe þe kynges sister sunes, & ful siker kniȝtes;
Bischop Bawdewyn abof bi-gineȝ þe table,
& Ywan, Vryn son, ette wit hym-seluen;
Þise were diȝt on þe des, & derworþly serued,
& siþen mony siker segge at þe sidbordeȝ.
Þen þe first cors come with crakkyng of trumpes,
Wyth mony baner ful bryȝt, þat þer-bi henged,
Nwe nakryn noyse with þe noble pipes,
Wylde werbles & wyȝt wakned lote,
Þat mony hert ful hiȝe hef at her towches;
Dayntes dryuen þer-wyth of ful dere metes,
Foysoun of þe fresche, & on so fele disches,
Þat pine to fynde þe place þe peple bi-forne
For to sette þe syluener, þat sere sewes halden,
on clothe;
Iche lede as he loued hym-selue
Þer laght with-outen loþe,
Ay two had disches twelue,
Good ber, & bryȝt wyn boþe.

Now wyl I of hor seruise say yow no more,
For vch wyȝe may wel wit no wont þat þer were;
An oþer noyse ful newe neȝed biliue,
Þat þe lude myȝt haf leue lif-lode to cach.
For vneþe watȝ þe noyce not a whyle sesed,
& þe fyrst cource in þe court kyndely serued,
Þer hales in at þe halle dor an aghlich mayster,
On þe most on þe molde on mesure hyghe;
Fro þe swyre to þe swange so sware & so þik,
& his lyndes & his lymes so longe & so grete,
Half etayn in erde I hope þat he were.
Bot mon most I algate mynn hym to bene,
& þat þe myriest in his muckel þat myȝt ride;
For of bak & of brest al were his bodi sturne,
Bot his wombe & his wast were worthily smale,
& alle his fetures folȝande, in forme þat he hade,
ful clene;
For wonder of his hwe men hade,
Set in his semblaunt sene;
He ferde as freke were fade,
& ouer-al enker grene.

Ande al grayþed in grene þis gome & his wedes,
A strayt cote ful streȝt, þat stek on his sides,
A mere mantile abof, mensked with-inne,
With pelure pured apert þe pane ful clene,
With blyþe blaunner ful bryȝt, & his hod boþe,
Þat watȝ laȝt fro his lokkeȝ, & layde on his schulderes
Heme wel haled, hose of þat same grene,
Þat spenet on his sparlyr, & clene spures vnder,
Of bryȝt golde, vpon silk bordes, barred ful ryche
& scholes vnder schankes, þere þe schalk rides;
& alle his vesture uerayly watȝ clene verdure,
Boþe þe barres of his belt & oþer blyþe stones,
Þat were richely rayled in his aray clene,
Aboutte hym-self & his sadel, vpon silk werkeȝ,
Þat were to tor for to telle of tryfles þe halue,
Þat were enbrauded abof, wyth bryddes & flyȝes,
With gay gaudi of grene, þe golde ay in myddes;
Þe pendauntes of his payttrure, þe proude cropure
His molaynes, & alle þe metail anamayld was þenne
Þe steropes þat he stod on, stayned of þe same,
& his arsounȝ al after, & his aþel sturtes,
Þat euer glemered & glent al of grene stones.
Þe fole þat he ferkkes on, fyn of þat ilke,
sertayn;
A grene hors gret & þikke,
A stede ful stif to strayne,
In brawden brydel quik,
To þe gome he watȝ ful gayn.

Wel gay watȝ þis gome gered in grene,
& þe here of his hed of his hors swete;
Fayre fannand fax vmbe-foldes his schulderes;
A much berd as a busk ouer his brest henges,
Þat wyth his hiȝlich here, þat of his hed reches,
Watȝ euesed al vmbe-torne, a-bof his elbowes,
Þat half his armes þer vnder were halched in þe wyse
Of a kyngeȝ capados, þat closes his swyre.
Þe mane of þat mayn hors much to hit lyke,
Wel cresped & cemmed wyth knottes ful mony,
Folden in wyth fildore aboute þe fayre grene,
Ay a herle of þe here, an oþer of golde;
Þe tayl & his toppyng twynnen of a sute,
& bounden boþe wyth a bande of a bryȝt grene,
Dubbed wyth ful dere stoneȝ, as þe dok lasted,
Syþen þrawen wyth a þwong a þwarle knot alofte,
Þer mony belleȝ ful bryȝt of brende golde rungen.
Such a fole vpon folde, ne freke þat hym rydes,
Watȝ neuer sene in þat sale wyth syȝt er þat tyme,
with yȝe;
He loked as layt so lyȝt,
So sayd al þat hym syȝe,
Hit semed as no mon myȝt,
Vnder his dyntteȝ dryȝe.

Wheþer hade he no helme ne hawb[e]rgh nauþer,
Ne no pysan, ne no plate þat pented to armes,
Ne no schafte, ne no schelde, to schwne ne to smyte,
Bot in his on honde he hade a holyn bobbe,
Þat is grattest in grene, when greueȝ ar bare,
& an ax in his oþer, a hoge & vn-mete,
A spetos sparþe to expoun in spelle quo-so myȝt;
Þe hede of an elnȝerde þe large lenkþe hade,
Þe grayn al of grene stele & of golde hewen,
Þe bit burnyst bryȝt, with a brod egge,
As wel schapen to schere as scharp rasores;
Þe stele of a stif staf þe sturne hit bi-grypte,
Þat watȝ wounden wyth yrn to þe wandeȝ ende,
& al bigrauen with grene, in gracios werkes;
A lace lapped aboute, þat louked at þe hede,
& so after þe halme halched ful ofte,
Wyth tryed tasseleȝ þerto tacched in-noghe,
On botounȝ of þe bryȝt grene brayden ful ryche.
Þis haþel heldeȝ hym in, & þe halle entres,
Driuande to þe heȝe dece, dut he no woþe,
Haylsed he neuer one, bot heȝe he ouer loked.
Þe fyrst word þat he warp, "wher is," he sayd,
"Þe gouernour of þis gyng? gladly I wolde
Se þat segg in syȝt, & with hym self speke
raysoun."
To knyȝteȝ he kest his yȝe,
& reled hym vp & doun,
He stemmed & con studie,
Quo walt þer most renoun.

Ther watȝ lokyng on lenþe, þe lude to be-holde,
For vch mon had meruayle quat hit mene myȝt,
Þat a haþel & a horse myȝt such a hwe lach,
As growe grene as þe gres & grener hit semed,
Þen grene aumayl on golde lowande bryȝter;
Al studied þat þer stod, & stalked hym nerre,
Wyth al þe wonder of þe worlde, what he worch schulde.
For fele sellyeȝ had þay sen, bot such neuer are,
For-þi for fantoum & fayryȝe þe folk þere hit demed;
Þer-fore to answare watȝ arȝe mony aþel freke,
& al stouned at his steuen, & stonstil seten,
In a swoghe sylence þurȝ þe sale riche
As al were slypped vpon slepe so slaked hor loteȝ
in hyȝe;
I deme hit not al for doute,
Bot sum for cortaysye,
Bot let hym þat al schulde loute,
Cast vnto þat wyȝe.

Þenn Arþour bifore þe hiȝ dece þat auenture byholdeȝ,
& rekenly hym reuerenced, for rad was he neuer,
& sayde, "wyȝe, welcum iwys to þis place,
Þe hede of þis ostel Arthour I hat,
Liȝt luflych adoun, & lenge, I þe praye,
& quat so þy wylle is, we schal wyt after."
"Nay, as help me," quod þe haþel, "he þat on hyȝe syttes,
To wone any quyle in þis won, hit watȝ not myn ernde;
Bot for þe los of þe lede is lyft vp so hyȝe,
& þy burȝ & þy burnes best ar holden,
Stifest vnder stel-gere on stedes to ryde,
Þe wyȝtest & þe worþyest of þe worldes kynde,
Preue for to play wyth in oþer pure laykeȝ;
& here is kydde cortaysye, as I haf herd carp,
& þat hatȝ wayned me hider, I-wyis, at þis tyme.
ȝe may be seker bi þis braunch þat I bere here,
Þat I passe as in pes, & no plyȝt seche;
For had I founded in fere, in feȝtyng wyse,
I haue a hauberghe at home & a helme boþe,
A schelde, & a scharp spere, schinande bryȝt,
Ande oþer weppenes to welde, I wene wel als,
Bot for I wolde no were, my wedeȝ ar softer.
Bot if þou be so bold as alle burneȝ tellen,
Þou wyl grant me godly þe gomen þat I ask,
bi ryȝt."
Arthour con onsware,
& sayd, "sir cortays knyȝt,
If þou craue batayl bare,
Here fayleȝ þou not to fyȝt."

"Nay, frayst I no fyȝt, in fayth I þe telle,
Hit arn aboute on þis bench bot berdleȝ chylder;
If I were hasped in armes on a heȝe stede,
Here is no mon me to mach, for myȝteȝ so wayke.
For-þy I craue in þis court a crystmas gomen,
For hit is ȝol & nwe ȝer, & here ar ȝep mony;
If any so hardy in þis hous holdeȝ hym-seluen,
Be so bolde in his blod, brayn in hys hede,
Þat dar stifly strike a strok for an oþer,
I schal gif hym of my gyft þys giserne ryche,
Þis ax, þat is heué in-nogh, to hondele as hym lykes,
& I schal bide þe fyrst bur, as bare as I sitte.
If any freke be so felle to fonde þat I telle,
Lepe lyȝtly me to, & lach þis weppen,
I quit clayme hit for euer, kepe hit as his auen,
& I schal stonde hym a strok, stif on þis flet,
Elleȝ þou wyl diȝt me þe dom to dele hym an oþer,
barlay;
& ȝet gif hym respite,
A twelmonyth & a day;--
Now hyȝe, & let se tite
Dar any her-inne oȝt say."

If he hem stowned vpon fyrst, stiller were þanne
Alle þe hered-men in halle, þe hyȝ & þe loȝe;
Þe renk on his rounce hym ruched in his sadel,
& runisch-ly his rede yȝen he reled aboute,
Bende his bresed broȝeȝ, bly-cande grene,
Wayued his berde for to wayte quo-so wolde ryse.
When non wolde kepe hym with carp he coȝed ful hyȝe,
Ande rimed hym ful richley, & ryȝt hym to speke:
"What, is þis Arþures hous," quod þe haþel þenne,
"Þat al þe rous rennes of, þurȝ ryalmes so mony?
Where is now your sourquydrye & your conquestes,
Your gry[n]del-layk, & your greme, & your grete wordes?
Now is þe reuel & þe renoun of þe rounde table
Ouer-walt wyth a worde of on wyȝes speche;
For al dares for drede, with-oute dynt schewed!"
Wyth þis he laȝes so loude, þat þe lorde greued;
Þe blod schot for scham in-to his schyre face
& lere;
He wex as wroth as wynde,
So did alle þat þer were
Þe kyng as kene bi kynde,
Þen stod þat stif mon nere.

Ande sayde, "haþel, by heuen þyn askyng is nys,
& as þou foly hatȝ frayst, fynde þe be-houes;
I know no gome þat is gast of þy grete wordes.
Gif me now þy geserne, vpon godeȝ halue,
& I schal bayþen þy bone, þat þou boden habbes."
Lyȝtly lepeȝ he hym to, & laȝt at his honde;
Þen feersly þat oþer freke vpon fote lyȝtis.
Now hatȝ Arthure his axe, & þe halme grypeȝ,
& sturnely stureȝ hit aboute, þat stryke wyth hit þoȝt.
Þe stif mon hym bifore stod vpon hyȝt,
Herre þen ani in þe hous by þe hede & more;
Wyth sturne schere þer he stod, he stroked his berde,
& wyth a countenaunce dryȝe he droȝ doun his cote,
No more mate ne dismayd for hys mayn dinteȝ,
Þen any burne vpon bench hade broȝt hym to drynk
of wyne,
Gawan, þat sate bi þe quene,
To þe kyng he can enclyne,
"I be-seche now with saȝeȝ sene,
Þis melly mot be myne."

"Wolde ȝe, worþilych lorde," quod Gawan to þe kyng,
"Bid me boȝe fro þis benche, & stonde by yow þere,
Þat I wyth-oute vylanye myȝt voyde þis table,
& þat my legge lady lyked not ille,
I wolde com to your counseyl, bifore your cort ryche.
For me þink hit not semly, as hit is soþ knawen,
Þer such an askyng is heuened so hyȝe in your sale,
Þaȝȝe ȝour-self be talenttyf to take hit to your-seluen,
Whil mony so bolde yow aboute vpon bench sytten,
Þat vnder heuen, I hope, non haȝer er of wylle,
Ne better bodyes on bent, þer baret is rered;
I am þe wakkest, I wot, and of wyt feblest,
& lest lur of my lyf, quo laytes þe soþe,
Bot for as much as ȝe ar myn em, I am only to prayse,
No bounté bot your blod I in my bodé knowe;
& syþen þis note is so nys, þat noȝt hit yow falles,
& I haue frayned hit at yow fyrst, foldeȝ hit to me,
& if I carp not comlyly, let alle þis cort rych,
bout blame."
Ryche to-geder con roun,
& syþen þay redden alle same,
To ryd þe kyng wyth croun,
& gif Gawan þe game.

Þen comaunded þe kyng þe knyȝt for to ryse;
& he ful radly vp ros, & ruchched hym fayre,
Kneled doun bifore þe kyng, & cacheȝ þat weppen;
& he luflyly hit hym laft, & lyfte vp his honde,
& gef hym goddeȝ blessyng, & gladly hym biddes
Þat his hert & his honde schulde hardi be boþe.
"Kepe þe cosyn," quod þe kyng, "þat þou on kyrf sette,
& if þou redeȝ hym ryȝt, redly I trowe,
Þat þou schal byden þe bur þat he schal bede after.
Gawan gotȝ to þe gome, with giserne in honde,
& he baldly hym bydeȝ, he bayst neuer þe helder
Þen carppeȝ to sir Gawan þe knyȝt in þe grene,
"Refourme we oure for-wardes, er we fyrre passe.
Fyrst I eþe þe, haþel, how þat þou hattes,
Þat þou me telle truly, as I tryst may?"
"In god fayth," quod þe goode knyȝt, "Gawan I hatte,
Þat bede þe þis buffet, quat-so bi-falleȝ after,
& at þis tyme twelmonyth take at þe anoþer,
Wyth what weppen so þou wylt, & wyth no wyȝ elleȝ,
on lyue."
Þat oþer on-swareȝ agayn,
"Sir Gawan, so mot I þryue,
As I am ferly fayn.
Þis dint þat þou schal dryue."

"Bigog," quod þe grene knyȝt, "sir Gawan, melykes,
Þat I schal fange at þy fust þat I haf frayst here;
& þou hatȝ redily rehersed, bi resoun ful trwe,
Clanly al þe couenaunt þat I þe kynge asked,
Saf þat þou schal siker me, segge, bi þi trawþe,
Þat þou schal seche me þi-self, where-so þou hopes
I may be funde vpon folde, & foch þe such wages
As þou deles me to day, bifore þis douþe ryche."
"Where schulde I wale þe," quod Gauan, "where is þy place?
I wot neuer where þou wonyes, bi hym þat me wroȝt,
Ne I know not þe, knyȝt, þy cort, ne þi name.
Bot teche me truly þer-to, & telle me howe þou hattes,
& I schal ware alle my wyt to wynne me þeder,
& þat I swere þe for soþe, & by my seker traweþ."
"Þat is in-nogh in nwe ȝer, hit nedes no more,"
Quod þe gome in þe grene to Gawan þe hende,
"ȝif I þe telle trwly, quen I þe tape haue,
& þou me smoþely hatȝ smyten, smartly I þe teche
Of my hous, & my home, & myn owen nome,
Þen may þou frayst my fare, & forwardeȝ holde,
& if I spende no speche, þenne spedeȝ þou þe better,
For þou may leng in þy londe, & layt no fyrre,
bot slokes;
Ta now þy grymme tole to þe,
& let se how þou cnokeȝ."
"Gladly sir, for soþe,"
Quod Gawan; his ax he strokes.

The grene knyȝt vpon grounde grayþely hym dresses,
A littel lut with þe hede, þe lere he discouereȝ,
His longe louelych lokkeȝ he layd ouer his croun.
Let þe naked nec to þe note schewe.
Gauan gripped to his ax, & gederes hit on hyȝt,
Þe kay fot on þe folde he be-fore sette,
Let hit doun lyȝtly lyȝt on þe naked,
Þat þe scharp of þe schalk schyndered þe bones,
& schrank þurȝ þe schyire grece, & scade hit in twynne,
Þat þe bit of þe broun stel bot on þe grounde.
Þe fayre hede fro þe halce hit [felle] to þe erþe,
Þat fele hit foyned wyth her fete, þere hit forth roled;
Þe blod brayd fro þe body, þat blykked on þe grene;
& nawþer faltered ne fel þe freke neuer þe helder,
Bot styþly he start forth vpon styf schonkes,
& ru[n]yschly he raȝt out, þere as renkkeȝ stoden,
Laȝt to his lufly hed, & lyft hit vp sone;
& syþen boȝeȝ to his blonk, þe brydel he cachcheȝ,
Steppeȝ in to stel bawe & strydeȝ alofte,
& his hede by þe here in his honde haldeȝ;
& as sadly þe segge hym in his sadel sette,
As non vnhap had hym ayled, þaȝ hedleȝ he we[re],
in stedde;
He brayde his bluk aboute,
Þat vgly bodi þat bledde,
Moni on of hym had doute,
Bi þat his resounȝ were redde.

For þe hede in his honde he haldeȝ vp euen,
To-ward þe derrest on þe dece he dresseȝ þe face,
& hit lyfte vp þe yȝe-lyddeȝ, & loked ful brode,
& meled þus much with his muthe, as ȝe may now here.
"Loke, Gawan, þou be grayþe to go as þou hetteȝ,
& layte as lelly til þou me, lude, fynde,
As þou hatȝ hette in þis halle, herande þise knyȝtes;
To þe grene chapel þou chose, I charge þe to fotte,
Such a dunt as þou hatȝ dalt disserued þou habbeȝ,
To be ȝederly ȝolden on nw ȝeres morn;
Þe knyȝt of þe grene chapel men knowen me mony;
For-þi me forto fynde if þou fraysteȝ, fayleȝ þou neuer,
Þer-fore com, oþer recreaunt be calde þe be-houeus."
With a runisch rout þe rayneȝ he torneȝ,
Halled out at þe hal-dor, his hed in his hande,
Þat þe fyr of þe flynt flaȝe fro fole houes.
To quat kyth he be-com, knwe non þere,
Neuermore þen þay wyste fram queþen. he watȝ wonnen;
what þenne?
Þe kyng & Gawen þare,
At þat grene þay laȝe & grenne,
ȝet breued watȝ hit ful bare,
A meruayl among þo menne.

Þaȝ Arþer þe hende kyng at hert hade wonder,
He let no semblaunt be sene, bot sayde ful hyȝe
To þe comlych quene, wyth cortays speche,
"Dere dame, to day demay yow neuer;
Wel by-commes such craft vpon cristmasse,
Laykyng of enterludeȝ, to laȝe & to syng.
Among þise, kynde caroles of knyȝteȝ & ladyeȝ;
Neuer-þe-lece to my mete I may me wel dres,
For I haf sen a selly, I may not for-sake."
He glent vpon sir Gawen, & gaynly he sayde,
"Now sir, heng vp þyn ax, þat hatȝ in-nogh hewen."
& hit watȝ don abof þe dece, on doser to henge,
Þer alle men for meruayl myȝt on hit loke,
& bi trwe tytel þer-of to telle þe wonder.
Þenne þay boȝed to a borde þise burnes to-geder,
Þe kyng & þe gode knyȝt, & kene men hem serued
Of alle dayntyeȝ double, as derrest myȝt falle,
Wyth alle maner of mete & mynstralcie boþe;
Wyth wele walt þay þat day, til worþed an ende,
in londe.
Now þenk wel, sir Gawan,
For woþe þat þou ne wonde,
Þis auenture forto frayn,
Þat þou hatȝ tan on honde.